“Wait, wait, wait,” Lola said, holding her palms out in front of her. “What’s the part about you leading a life of crime? I did a standard background check on you before I rented your space in my salon. I didn’t see no fucking felony on your record.”
Blaire drained her wine and then reached out to refill her and Lola’s glasses. She cringed at the obvious anger in Lola’s voice.
“I was an accessory,” she said. “Karlos headed a cartel. He lives an extravagant life in Caracas while people around him are dying of poverty, malnutrition, and being shot to death for trying to feed their families. Everyone is forced to live a life of crime there. It’s either steal food or die of starvation.”
Her stomach hardened into a knot.
“I’m not sure if I want to know what you did,” Lola said, before sipping her wine. “Did you kill anyone?”
“Me? No.” Blaire shook her head.
I only witnessed it.
“Extort anyone? Harm anyone in any way?”
Those pesky tears pricked at Blaire’s eyes.
“I personally did not harm anyone, no,” she said, sidestepping the “did you extort anyone” question.
But I was a party to violence too many times. And I feared I would be their next victim.
“Okay.” Lola rolled her lips between her teeth. She tapped her long, brown-painted nails on the metal table. “So, you didn’t commit acts of violence, you didn’t harm anyone directly…don’t say any more while I process this.”
Blaire stayed silent, swallowing back any admission of guilt.
The upstairs room still retained its quiet, while downstairs, the noise level increased.
After a few minutes, Lola said, “And everything happened in Venezuela, you weren’t charged with anything? You weren’t involved in any legal proceedings, right?”
Blaire sighed. “Right.”
But my soul is tainted by my actions. And my fear of what Karlos might do to me is off the charts now that I know he’s in Seattle.
Lola grinned and threw out her hands. “Problem solved. You got caught up in something unsavory in Venezuela. You got out. I’m pretty sure what happens in Venezuela stays in Venezuela, don’t you think? There’s nothing to confess to Jackson.”
Blaire winced. “That’s what I hoped until I glanced at your newspaper in the break room.”
“Oh, dear. What did you see?” Lola grabbed her wine glass and chugged a couple of swallows.
“Karlos. Didn’t you read the headline?” Blaire swiped her hand through the air.
“Oh, no,” Lola said, eyes widening. “You got caught up with that playboy?”
“As opposed to the next playboy?” Blaire’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Lola’s dreadlocks bobbed as she shook her head. “No, I only meant…I took a look at that picture and thought, ‘that guy looks dangerous.’”
“He not only looks dangerous, but he is dangerous. While I may not have murdered anyone, I know for a fact that he has personally shot and killed dozens of individuals.” Blaire felt the color leak from her face. She placed her palms on the table to steady herself.
Lola grimaced. “No wonder you don’t want to tell Jackson. I wouldn’t either.” She flicked her painted nails with her thumb as if trying to rid herself of something extremely unpleasant. “So, you and your superhero have a good relationship overall, right?”
“Well, there’s his brother,” Blaire said, cautiously.
She glanced to the left as Ryder came into view from the staircase, and clamped her mouth shut.
He beelined toward their table.
“Can I get you anything?” He smiled between them. “Another bottle of vino? Would you like to see our small bites menu?”
Blaire’s stomach growled, reminding her she forgot to eat lunch today. “I’d like something to eat. What about you, Lola?”
“Oh, it’s a ‘more wine for me’ kind of conversation.” Lola glanced up at Ryder. “Bring us another bottle of Pinot. And a menu for her. I don’t want anything to sop up the alcohol in my system.” Her face looked pinched.
Ryder nodded and spun on his heel.
After he left, Lola said, “So tell me about the brother. Is he on drugs?”
Blaire choked out a sound. “Why would you say that?”
“My brother is.” Lola huffed out a sigh. “He’s a piece of work, that boy.”
Blaire’s shoulders drooped. “Yes. Jake is a user. He takes advantage of Jackson’s good heart to fund his cause.”
“Oh, been there. Done that. It’s a matter of boundaries, that course of action.” Lola pursed her lips. “Now my bro is on to other family members since I cut him off. It can’t be helped—he is who he is—but he doesn’t get to be who he is on my dime.”
“That’s what I keep telling Jackson. But his brother is it for Jackson. Jackson’s mumbled something about ‘no other family I care to discuss,’ but that’s it. He and Jake grew up in Port Coyote.”
“So, you know nothing about his past either?” Lola shook her head. “Girl, you and the J-boy aren’t setting a good foundation for a healthy relationship, I can tell you that. Sounds like you both carry a shitload of secrets.”
Ryder tromped toward them, bearing a menu and another bottle of Pinot Noir. When he stopped next to the table, Blaire took the menu from him, and he got busy uncorking the wine.
“Crab cakes,” she said, tapping the plastic-coated menu.
“Excellent choice,” he said, placing the opened bottle on the table. He whirled away and retreated.
Blaire took another sip of wine. The wine had done a great job of blurring her edges. “So, I gave Jackson this, ‘you’d better get your bro under control or else’ chat last night. But I don’t want to lose him.”
“It’s so obvious you are both crazy for each other, I can’t see that happening. Whenever I see the two of you, I swear unicorns are going to take me to their happy place through fields of glitter. But I understand.” Lola drummed her long nails on the metal tabletop while contemplating the ceiling. “Didn’t you tell me the sex between the two of you is off the charts?”
“Oh, my God, yes,” Blaire said, her core lighting up with affirmation. “We can’t get enough of one another.”
She took another sip of her wine.
“Well, fun fact, here. My mother is a sex therapist.” Lola’s cheeks flushed.
Blaire nearly spat out her wine. “And you didn’t tell me this, why?”
“People guard their secrets.” Lola flashed her a sheepish smile. “And it’s nothing I was eager to share. Growing up with a parade of dysfunctional sexual head-cases coming in and out of my home is nothing to brag about, I assure you. I was embarrassed, and I mean embarrassed to bring anyone home. My own sexuality was confusing enough. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be attracted to. I didn’t want to end up on my mother’s couch being analyzed.” She took a gulp of wine. “Anyway, one of the things dear old Mom drilled into me was this: ‘Don’t let the sex mask the issues.’”
“What does that mean?” Blaire asked, furrowing up her face. Catching movement in their direction, she glanced over to see Ryder, plate in hand and striding in their direction. She mimicked zipping her lips.
Lola nodded.
Setting down the plate with a dramatic flourish, Ryder looked her right in the eyes and said, “I asked the chef to sneak you an extra crab cake. I told him you were Hollerback’s girl and you’re having a really bad day.”
He winked.
A wave of gratitude flooded Blaire’s heart. “And just like that, he did it?”
“I told you…your guy was a favorite around here. Everyone likes Jackson O’Halloran. Tell him that. Tell him to bring you here sometime so we can all say hey.”
“I will,” Blaire said with a lopsided grin. “We’ve been, uh…” Fucking like rabbits whenever we’re home at the same time. “Busy. We’ve been busy. But we’ll get down here again, don’t worry.”
“Good. That’s good.” Ryder drummed his fingers on the table and flashed his megawatt smile. Then, his forehead creased slightly.
“What?” said Blaire.
“It’s nothing,” said Ryder, directing his gaze at the table.
“No, what is it?” she insisted.
He lifted his gaze to hers. He looked at Blaire somberly and said, “I’m especially glad he’s found you and you’re happy together. He never shared much, but it always seemed like secrets lurked just beyond the surface, or some great pain lay hidden underneath, or something, you know?”
Do I know? Blaire frowned. “Sure,” she said. “But as far as I can tell, the only secret he’s keeping from me is whether he likes brownies more than lemon meringue pie. I bake for him a lot.” She winked, trying to keep things light. What secrets could he have that I don’t know about?
“I’d say both—lemon meringue on some days, brownies on the others. I’m sure Hollerback feels that way. Secret solved.” Ryder’s grin reappeared. “Listen to me. What do I know about anyone’s secrets?” He shook his head, knocked his head with his knuckles, and then spun away and tromped out of sight.
Blaire watched him disappear. Have I seen great pain lurking beneath the surface? Jackson seems like a standup, practical kind of guy.
The smell of buttery seafood teased her nostrils. She picked up a fork, sliced a bite of crab cake, and dipped it in the accompanying aioli sauce. An explosion of textures and tastes filled her mouth.
“Oh, wow, these are to die for.” She waved her fork at her plate. “Are you sure you don’t want some?”
“No, none for me, thanks. Anyway, about Jackson.,” Lola said, swishing her hand.
Blaire nodded.
“Right. So, tell me, what does ‘don’t let the sex mask the issues’ mean?” she said through a mouthful of crab.
“Well,” Lola said, “the way Mom explained it…she said you can have great sexual compatibility with someone, but it can cover other issues.”
Blaire’s eyes narrowed. “Go on…”
Lola looked away. “And, you know, once you address the issues you might find you each have no interest in one another.”
Her gaze slid back toward Blaire.
As Lola’s words worked their way through her brain, Blaire’s grip on her fork tightened. She blinked rapidly.
“Are you saying Jackson and I might not be as compatible as we think we are?” Her voice emerged like a shrill stranger.
“What? No…no, no, no. That’s not what I’m saying. I was merely repeating the clinic-speak I heard on the regular from Mom.” Lola leaned backward, a pained stare on her face.
Blaire blinked. Is that what we’re doing? “Did she…Did your mom have any suggestions as to…how to overcome the issues?” she squeaked.
“Oh, sure. Mom has an answer for everything.” Lola rolled her eyes. “She said it takes deep commitment. You have to be willing to sit down face to face with your partner on the regular and cool it on the sex. If it’s used to mask issues, it will only get in the way. And you work through the issues one by one with a brave heart. She also suggested counseling but then why wouldn’t she?” She snickered.
Blaire stared at her, unblinking.
Lola met her gaze, and her expression sobered. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry I said anything. Here you are spilling your guts about something that must have been awful for you, and now I’ve gone and made things worse. You must hate me right now.”
“No,” said Blaire, pushing back thoughts of losing Jackson.
We’ve been so happy—haven’t we? So why did I give him an ultimatum? Is Lola right?
“Honey, honey. Me and my big blabbermouth. I’m sure you and Jackson will be all right. Forget I said anything.” She reached for the wine bottle, refreshing her glass.
“Oh, sure,” Blaire said, in what she hoped was a breezy manner. But the damage had been done. A seed of insecurity had planted itself in her heart and taken root. Now, not only did she have to deal with spilling her guts on a secret that she should have told him months ago, she and Jackson might have bigger issues to deal with, after all.
Her appetite had vanished. She set down her fork and contemplated her next move. The only thing that came to mind was to run.