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I did not regret my decision to stay. After the revue ended, the musicians played lively dance songs. The stiff and snooty Paxtons cleared the chairs to make way for the dances. Heels were flung off, neckties untied, blazers thrown on chairs, and wine glasses and champagne glasses swapped for entire bottles. My persistent killjoy Kyle refused my offer to dance and stood in one corner of the room talking with his older siblings and Min-Jun, who seemed to orbit around him. The rest of us danced our hearts out. I danced with Clive and Tyler and everyone else who asked me.
Tyler danced with me three times and made me laugh with his easy wit. He was really a brainiac as Kyle had described, and talked lucidly about politics and current affairs, though he was drunk and yelled every sentence. He was not the only one—around us the Paxton clan was getting more and more plastered. During my third dance with him, Tyler twirled me around in an energetic waltz.
“Hey, after this, Willow, Clive, my homies and I take the party poolside. Join us.”
His unguarded smile disarmed me for he looked a lot like Kyle when he smiled.
“Thanks but not today,” I said, looking at the marble floor that was whizzing in circles as we danced.
“Hey, it’ll be fun. We’ll get a little drunk. A little baked. We have the best joints and I get my best ideas when I’m high. We’ll talk about Foucault and Locke and Che Guevara and foreign policy. Join us.”
I shook my head and smiled. “That is very tempting. But we can’t.”
“Oh well. My loss. ‘You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.’”
“Nietzsche?”
He smiled flirtatiously and twirled me in an elegant loop. “I told you. You and I are well-matched.”
I laughed. “You are a shameless flirt.”
“Are there any ashamed flirts? Flirt fail. You refused my invite, gorgeous.” He thrust out his lips in a childish pout.
“You do realize I’m dating your brother?” I asked in mock outrage.
“So you and my lame brother, huh. I’ll bet he’s boring you to homicide.”
“I think Kyle’s the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.”
“Then you haven’t met enough people,” he deadpanned. “Funny thing. He said that about you this morning though he used less superlatives.”
Kyle had talked about me to Tyler? Hmm.
“Your brother may be the only adult here. He doesn’t dance. He doesn’t drink. Doesn’t get high. I admire his maturity, the thing that separates men from boys.”
“Ouch. The gentle dagger. Are you implying I am a boy?”
“Oh no.” I missed a step and looked at Tyler in surprise. “I’m talking about Kyle. I’ve only dated boys and Kyle is different...from all of them. He’s one special guy.”
“If I agreed with you, we’d both be wrong.”
Enjoying his subtle humor, I laughed. Tyler was charming, suave and smooth—the opposite of Kyle.
Looping his arms around my waist, Tyler pulled me closer. “A long time ago, we used to have so much fun. Kyle used to party, animal style. But then he lost Chloe, founded his snoozefest company, and became an officer and a pretend gentleman. He really changed after Chloe’s death. Cut us off. I guess...I miss him sometimes.”
“I see.” I mused on his words. Chloe was his family’s only frame of reference for Kyle’s love life.
“He’s glaring at me,” Tyler said.
I inclined my neck slightly. Kyle was leaning against a pillar, legs crossed and stony eyes fixed on us. My gaze met his and I could not gauge what he was thinking. My pulse quickened. “Not glaring. Staring.”
“No, he’s jealous and possessive. That’s freaky. For him. I remember he was different with Chloe. Even her Burning Man and Coachella weekends with her feral male friends didn’t freak him out. But you are special to him. I can see why. He’s a lucky guy.”
Chloe again.
“I think I’m the lucky one.”
“Now you’re just making me puke.”
After the dance, I walked to Kyle. Each step I took made me more conscious of his unflinching eyes on me. When I reached him, I pressed both my palms to his and lifted our hands in the air. “I’m ready for our pajama party now.”
A devilish grin spread across his lips. “Let’s go.”
“What about Marissa? Shouldn’t I say good night?”
“Nope.” He snatched my wrist and walked out of the room, exhaling at the welcome silence. “Finally. I thought you’d use all your energy dancing.”
“Oh, I have a separate tank of energy for you, Mr. Paxton.”
“You’d better, after dancing all night long with my dirtbag brother.”
“Tyler is sweet.”
“If a dirtbag had sugar in it,” he scoffed.
I told Kyle about Tyler’s invite to the after party and he grimaced. “Goddamn Tyler. Such a stoner. I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t so damned persuasive. He even got our resident vegan Willow hooked on drugs.”
“Really?”
Kyle took off his glasses, folded them and rolled them over and under his hands in a perpetual motion. “Willow and Tyler party too hard. In one of their crazy parties, someone reported them. They got fined and ended up in rehab. After that, she stuck to weed to avoid felonies. Tyler went back to harder drugs. He now spends fifty grand a month on coke for his entourage. My father wants me to cut him off.”
I whistled. “Holy cannoli! Fifty thousand.”
“Yup. And Willow? Five on weed. More if she buys Oracle.”
“Oracle?”
Twirling his glasses in the air and catching them with an extended hand, Kyle said, “A high strain cannabis with a whopping fifty percent THC.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying.”
Beaming, Kyle slipped the glasses in his blazer pocket and threaded my fingers in his. “Glad you don’t. I’m curious. Didn’t you do weed in college?”
“No. It was a luxury I couldn’t afford. What about you?”
“Chloe was a pothead too and I had an occasional joint with her. After she died, I drank—a lot. It took me a year to clean up my act. I like control and only being alert works for me. Willow and Tyler push hard limits. I know they’ll end up in jail and rehab again.”
“But why? Isn’t weed legal in California?”
“It’s not the weed I’m worried about. It’s the days lost in a cannabis haze. Sometimes weeks. Willow’s show lost two producers after she missed a filming trip.”
“Can you talk to her?”
“Nah. I’ve tried for years. I’m done, June-Bug.” He sounded weary.
I knew how he felt. “Mom used to drink her problems away. I was her bartender as a kid. When I was fourteen, she asked me to make her a Fuzzy Navel. Peach schnapps and a little orange juice. Peach schnapps sounded delicious, so I snuck one for myself. Threw up on the dinner table. She grounded me so bad. The next day, the liquor cabinet was empty. She quit cold turkey.”
“She’s a good parent.”
“That’s debatable.” We paused at the base of the sweeping staircase and I turned to him. “But I get why people get addicted. Washes the pain away. Helps fill the void.”
He shrugged. “It’s the Paxton way. It’s in our DNA. Booze, drugs, shiny new toys, and fucking others into another dimension to fill the void. Doesn’t work, though. The void just gets bigger.”
I grew still. Despite the festive mood, I felt the void in the air. It mingled uneasily with the luxury, the money, power and privilege of the Paxtons. The hostile looks, the insane quantity of alcohol they consumed, the drug-induced euphoria, and the dull pain in their eyes had forced me to face this void.
Was Kyle different?
Then again, maybe he wasn’t. He didn’t need to drink to fill the void. Instead, he played games with people’s lives. Fucking others into another dimension...is that what his system is about?
No. Stop. It. Kyle is a good person.
I had promised myself I was going to be positive about Kyle and I focused on the manifest parts of the beautiful man by my side. Linking my arms in his, I asked, “Kyle Paxton, did you know, you are a strong contender for the good brother? Did I get a Boy Scout? Who knew?”
“Who you can’t imagine being with, even if he was the last man on earth?”
“Opinions change. People change.”
I blew him an air kiss and he called me lame. To prove his point he pressed me—right then, right there—against the bannister and kissed me until I stopped breathing. When he let me go, we made our way up in a frisky mood. On the landing, Kyle swooped me up in his arms and walked down the hall. I was buzzed and even the slightest touch—the brush of his hand against my skin, our legs grazing as we walked—reduced me to pudding. Caged in his rock-hard arms, I trembled. It was sensory overload.
“You really like carrying me over the threshold, don’t you? Put me down.”
“Why?”
I flushed. “Someone will see.”
“That’s a terrible reason to put you down. I like this.”
“Why?”
“It defuses you.”
I giggled. “That makes you full-on Kim Jong il.”
“I thought I was a Boy Scout.”
He pushed open a door and entered a vast room, still carrying me. The room was decorated with more restraint than the rest of the house. A big bed was centered on a gray wall hand painted with silver quatrefoils. The wall of windows had silver drapes parted to the snowy garden below. There was even a sitting area with black leather chairs on a plush white rug.
“Is this your childhood room?”
“God no. It’s a guest room. Let’s not talk about my childhood.”
As soon as Kyle kicked the door shut, he pressed me against a wall. Wrapping my arms around his midriff, I yielded to him. His lips caught mine in a cruel hold and I was kissed senseless. His hands, his lips were all over the place, the raging force of his kiss evident in the savagery of his eyes. I loved it. It was like being caught in a lovely but mighty summer rain. At some point, I tore my lips away to breathe. My eyes communicated my need: I wanted to be on the bed with Kyle, effective immediately.
In a second, Kyle twisted me around and walked to the bed. He unzipped my dress and tore it off. I yanked his blazer off and reached for his shirt. Kyle shook his head and pushed me flat on the bed. He stood up. Puzzled, I watched as he unbuttoned every button on his shirt and cocked his head to study my underwear clad body.
“Damn, I forget every time how perfect you are.”
I squirmed, my lips dry from longing. “Then come back, shredded abs.”
“No.”
Every cell in my body was now aching for his touch. I put my arms up. “Kyle, come on. Stop playing games.”
With a sinful smile he walked away and my ardor cooled in frustrated defeat. Legs swinging, I flipped over in bed and watched him go to a closet and emerge with a package.
Sprawling in bed so hard he jostled me, Kyle handed me a small black box. “Open this. Your Christmas present.”
Worried it might be extravagant diamonds, I said, “You didn’t have to.”
I was shushed by a finger on my lips. “Open it.”
I tried to sit up, but Kyle rolled me to him like a rug and intertwined our legs. Grinning, I propped up on my elbows, tore off the silver ribbon and opened the box. I gasped. Inside the black velvet lay a heavy bracelet in the style of a Celtic torc. Pure twenty-four karat gold twisted into a knotted design. I recognized it was an exact copy of a Bronze Age torc at the British Museum. Dazed, I stared at it. I loved it, yet was afraid of it and knew I could not refuse it.
“Kyle...it’s so beautiful.”
“Look inside.”
Holding my breath, I read the tiny neat letters inside the bracelet, just under the rim. I gasped. It was Irish. “Tá tú mo gach rud, Juniper. Oh my God.”
“Translate it. It’s not ancient Celtic but I figured Irish would do.”
“Juniper, you are my everything.”
My everything.
My heart raced and I looked at Kyle teary-eyed.
“Happy tears, I hope?”
“Yes. Thank you. Thank you. It’s perfect. I love it even though you didn’t have to.”
My lips went to his and I began to shower kisses on him. Kyle laughed, and in between my torrent of smooches, he slipped the bracelet on my wrist. He admired my wrist and pressed an open mouthed kiss on it.
With a hiss, I asked, “How did you get this? It’s a replica of a torc at the British Museum. Please tell me your staff didn’t steal this?”
“When you got mad at me for giving you diamonds, I found a jeweler in San Francisco who creates museum replicas super quick.”
“Thank you. It’s too much, really.” I started feeling ill at ease again.
“Why do you hate being spoiled? Get used to it. You are my girlfriend.”
“I don’t hate anything you do. I just hate being obliged to anyone.”
“You take care of the people in your life. Let me spoil you. You freaking deserve it.”
With superhuman effort, I freed myself from the tangle of limbs and sat on top of him. “No one has ever done anything this remotely perfect for me before.”
“Well, how about a little present for me?” Impatient hands spanned my waist and jerked me down to his chest.
My breath caught in my throat and I pulled back a little. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you as well.”
“You do?” He was baffled, for I had arrived that evening with a slim clutch.
“Hang on.” I clambered off him, got up, and came back with my purse. I handed him a photograph. “Here.”
He sat up in bed. “What am I looking at?”
It was the picture of a rusty black box with the lens and a carrying case. “This is a—” I began.
“Graflex Pacemaker Crown Graphic folding camera introduced in 1947?”
“Yes. Wow.”
“A photo of the camera is my present,” he teased with a glint in his eyes.
“No, silly. It’s the camera. I got it online from a guy in California. I had it delivered to your office. I asked Evan to put it in your vintage camera collection.”
“This is awesome. Thank you, babe. You don’t have to get me anything. Ever. You are my present.”
“I know it’s not much.” A wistful smile hovered on my lips.
“Shut up, idiot. It’s perfect.”
“If you were a normal boyfriend, I’d get you a shirt, a watch, maybe lottery tickets. What do you get a man who has everything and beyond?”
Our eyes met and the air crackled. We both tacitly acknowledged it was the first time I had called him my boyfriend.
“This guy only wants one thing. And that’s you. Now give me my real present.” Eyes boring into me, he reached for me.
“Come and get me then.” Chuckling, I scooted away and jumped off the bed.
“Stop running away.” In a flash, Kyle soared off the bed, jerked me to him and pushed me back on the gray coverlet. My laughter died at the intense desire in his eyes. Slowly he scaled me and undid my bra with talented fingers. His arms, hard as iron, slid on mine like silk. Our lips locked and I closed my eyes.
The next morning it was almost noon when I woke up. I was alone in bed—again. Did Kyle leave me? I wondered if he went out for a walk or a swim. Groggy and bemused, I surveyed the room until I heard the shower running. I smiled in relief. Whew. I sank back on the pillows and stared up at the wrought iron chandelier. Memories of last night spun in my head. This marked the end of the third night I had spent in Kyle’s arms. The first time we made love like restless demons and the second time like lazy sloths. My body was worn out and sore but way less than last weekend. I was a decade behind my peers, so I still had my training wheels on.
Get up, Juniper. Time to face the formidable Paxtons.
My eyes fell on the small suitcase Kyle had surprised me with last night. Marlene, his housekeeper, had packed clothes for me since my devious boyfriend had already planned on my staying with him here. I crawled out of bed, unzipped the suitcase and picked out an outfit.
“Hello, June-Bug,” Kyle said.
I turned to see him walking out of the bathroom in his jeans, bare chest glistening with water and his hair dewy wet. I swallowed, walked over to him and kissed his smug smile. My fingers splayed his wide chest, chasing away the droplets.
“Kyle. Such a hot hot chest. Should we skip breakfast?”
“Why?” he teased, his eyes blazing with desire.
“Two of your wishes came true last night. How about I grant you one more?”
With a hiss, he took off the towel from around his neck, looped it around my waist and slammed me against his cold chest. Goosebumps prickled my skin and I shivered.
In between kisses, he said, “Don’t tempt me. This is torture. But I have to go. My father just called another meeting. Royce and I have to hash out the frigging Paxton Foundation terms.”
Reining in my regret, I nodded. “It’s fine. I have to leave anyway. Can you have the driver drop me?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kyle put me at arm’s length, planted his hands on my shoulders and peered in my eyes. “What gave you the idea I want you to leave?”
“It’s not just about what you want.”
“You want to leave?” When I shook my head he asked, “Juniper, what’s wrong? Did someone say something?”
I shook my head again. He caught me in a vise-like grip and our bodies slammed against each other. Palming my neck, he pressed my head on his shoulder. Nuzzling his broad chest, I closed my eyes in contentment. This was the best spot in the universe (and in time and space) the Tardis could take me.
“I know my family is insane,” he whispered. “Like me. I just...wanted you to meet everyone. Not just because I need your company—but because I wanted them to know how special you are to me.”
I am? I beamed. “Thank you.”
Kyle’s index finger traced the lines of my face. “Hmm? You are so lovely. And innocent. I’d rather—never mind. You make me happy, you know that?”
“I’m glad.”
“And now you’re not going anywhere. If you do I will pick up your scent and hunt you. Capisce?”
“Do you ever hear yourself? Is that a threat?”
“You bet.”
To hone his point, he pushed me on the bed and handcuffed my hands to the mattress. A lazy finger traced my mouth and my breath hitched, my entire body on alert and ready to make love. He pressed a hot wet kiss on my mouth.
I chuckled, my fingers playing with his wet hair. “Yummy. I don’t think you know what punishment or threat means.”
“I do, babe. All in good time. You’re still a Jedi Initiate. Much to learn from your Jedi Master.”
“Oh really, Darth Maul?” My eyes flashed in radical outrage and I opened my mouth with a thousand objections but Kyle silenced me with another kiss.
When he lifted his head, he studied me with dilated pupils. “There it is again. That green fire in her eyes. The rage. So much better than the sad, lost girl who came with me yesterday.”
“I was not lost. It’s just a lot to take in. You have such a big family.”
“Damn it.”
“What is it, Kyle?”
His eyelids drooped. With a sigh, he spread-eagled on the bed, taking me with him. I cleaved even closer, my face hovering over his.
“I’m tired, June-Bug. Sick and tired of Paxton teething troubles. I just want to go far far away and take you with me.”
“I don’t blame you. Responsibility sucks. It’s the worst part of having a family,” I said, slowly. My family was my kryptonite. I was bound to them inextricably and both Cypress and Mom were so dependent on me. I would never do anything to hurt them.
“Yesterday, I became the sole trustee of everyone’s purse strings. On top of that, Father made me the head of the Paxton Foundation. Royce is furious. Denise is planning a shitstorm.”
“Why do they care so much?”
“Royce wants the half a billion Paxton Foundation to become an LLC, instead of a nonprofit. He wants to control the funds to tap millions for his Senate campaign. Then millions more to run for president five years from now.”
“What? Of these United States of America? No way.”
“Way. He’s been bitten by the change-the-world bug. Denise has him convinced he’s presidential material. Ha. All she wants is her filthy hands on the money.”
“Oh come on, Kyle. Less cynicism, more trust.”
“It’s true. They have a super PAC. My father and I want the funds for the charities we support. Not blow it up in dirty politics. Elections crap. I don’t have a choice but to fight Royce. Dear daddy wants a front row seat and see us tear each other apart before he dies.”
I felt the weight of his responsibilities and also why he was weary of them. So much for Kyle trying to stay away from his family—he was inextricably stuck in the stinky armpit of their big hairy problems. But I wanted to comfort him. “Your father recognizes your success. He knows you can do the job.”
Kyle propped himself on his elbows and kissed me soundly. “Yes, ma’am. Everything seems possible with you in my life. Now, get ready. I’ll meet you in an hour at brunch downstairs. We will hang out with Colt and then go out for a sushi double date with Willow and Clive.”
“Sounds like a plan, Kyle.” I agreed with a goofy smile.
“Not Kyle. Call me Jedi Overlord.”
“Or not. How about Jar-Jar Binks?”
“Woman, you draw blood.”
