Adonis
“Are you going to answer my question?”
His mind skittered through images from the last hour. None of that added up to a question he could remember.
“What do you want to know?” Suddenly he dreaded his own question, because with the most mental clarity he’d had in weeks, he was ninety-nine percent sure he knew what it was going to be. He’d brought it on himself last week, though. Back when he’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to sleep with her. When he wasn’t going to insert himself into her history as her first-time guy.
“Why aren’t you a good bet?”
He threw his forearm over his eyes. The halogen lights strung across fine wire against her ceiling winked out. He could see no more than blackness. It’s what he imagined Emily saw in her last seconds. Before she experienced the nothingness of life ending. He wasn’t a believer, but for her sake, he hoped there was an afterlife.
“I have to take care of…” He left the rest unsaid as he got off the bed and went through the pocket door on the opposite side of the room. Slipping the door closed, he disposed of the condom then stood paralyzed. He’d violated his number one and number two rules, by sleeping with a client and by even hinting at his past.
Bracing his hands on the cold marble counter, he stared at his reflection. His life was firmly divided into two equal portions: before and after. Except for his family, there was no bridge between the two worlds. He’d never wanted there to be.
Maybe Claude was right. Maybe his dad was right. It was time to put all of it together. Forgiveness from his sister was one thing. Acceptance from Gemma was another.
Suddenly, for some reason, both seemed equally important.
Unnecessary flushing of the toilet and turning on then off one of the chrome faucets bought him time. Not enough time. If he spent one minute longer, he’d leave Gemma Hart with more of a complex than she already had. And if there was one thing he didn’t want on his conscience, it was hurting another woman.
Gemma was covered up in an extra-large t-shirt. She was flicking through a glossy magazine, but he could see that she was anything but casual. Snagging his boxer briefs from the bed, he made himself decent, before getting back on the bed.
Her eyes flicked toward him, expectation apparent.
“I’m nothing more than something bad that happened to a woman people loved.”
It was not enough of an explanation, that half-thought-out sentence. But it was the easiest thing he could think of without revealing who he really was and having her asking him to go. Because he wanted to stay.
Her mouth opened. Closed. Then she started to speak.
“What—”
The dog barked. Gemma’s eyes snapped to the closed door. The sound of the dog dropping something then running toward the front door filled the quiet house.
In a flash, Gemma jammed her feet into a short pair of those shearling boots every woman in Los Angeles seemed to own.
“Who is it?” he asked before he realized he didn’t have the right to know the answer to his question.
“I have no idea,” she said, walking over and throwing open the door.
It only took a few seconds for him to realize that no man should leave a woman unprotected, especially someone as vulnerable as Gemma. As quickly as he could, he shoved his legs into his jeans and ran after her.
He was too late. Sylvester Poole caught sight of him. The manager’s eyes pinged between Gemma, then Adonis, then back again. A sense of knowing lifted his chin.
“This is cozy.”
Gemma colored, her pale skin turning a deep, deep red.
“We were just…discussing the remaining work that needs to be done downstairs,” she mumbled.
Sylvester’s eyes scanned the room. There was nothing Adonis could do to hide their half-clothed state. But the lack of plans spread on the table, the lack of planning notebook, and the fact that there wasn’t a single light or lantern made her words a lie. A polite lie that a decent person would leave alone. Sylvester wasn’t striking Adonis as a decent person. If anyone could tell good from bad, it was him.
Sylvester didn’t prove him wrong. He continued, “On a Saturday night. On your birthday. It may be your birthday, hon, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Okay?”
“Did you need something, Sylvester?” Gemma asked, recovering her composure in a seriously quick amount of time. Had to be her acting training. It took him days to recover from the smallest slight.
“You didn’t answer your phone this morning. You know I can’t let that go unchecked.”
Gemma nodded thoughtfully. He decided to let the two talk about whatever business they needed to discuss and maybe retrieve his shirt from the bedroom.
In that instant, Granger dropped his bone with a thud and came to Adonis, sitting and leaning hard against his leg. He tried to shift his foot and the dog leaned harder, thwarting his escape plan.
“Maybe we’ll have to establish a new protocol.”
“Anyway, here’s your gift from your agent.” He thrust a slim envelope into her ready hands. “When I told him I was coming, he asked me to drop it off. Oh, and I have something from Elton Lamb.”
Her sigh was world weary. Adonis was starting to think that for all she had, she wasn’t getting much of what she needed.
“What did he send? Did you tell him that I’m not doing another movie with him?”
“Did you read the script he sent? It’s really good. Golden Globe, if not Oscar worthy.”
“Are you dangling awards in front of me, Sylvester? Do I need to remind you, I have a box full of them?”
“From when you were a kid, Gemma. You need to prove yourself as an adult actress. Jodie Foster did it and look at her now. No one’s talking about Taxi Driver anymore.”
“No offense, but I’m done with being the victim. I can’t do something like The Accused.”
Adonis patted the dog. Granger stood in anticipation. “Excuse me,” he said. He quickly strode toward the stairs, taking this opportunity to spare Gemma further embarrassment.
When he was dressed and as put together as a man could be after mind-blowing sex, he followed the voices to the driveway.
He stepped out to find Sylvester and Gemma standing in front of a car whose doors opened like wings.
“What is that?” Adonis asked.
“Elton’s gift. Some kind of plug-in car. Somehow, I can save the world from global warming in this. No mention of the huge amount of raw materials and resources necessary to produce said car.”
“He really wanted you to have this,” Sylvester said.
“How’d you get it here?”
“I drove it.”
“Take it back.”
“He’ll be pissed.”
“What is he going to do, blacklist me? It’s not the McCarthy era. You keep it. Where’s the log book?”
“What is that?”
“The papers that show who’s the owner of the car.”
Sylvester messed around in the glove box. “Can’t find it right now. I had it this morning…”
“When you find it, messenger it to me. I’ll sign it over to you or whomever you need to impress.”
“Ah, Gemma, you’re putting me in an awkward position.”
“Fine, Sylvester. Fine. Thanks for the birthday wishes, because somewhere in all this I’m sure you wished me a happy birthday. Now I’m going to call Elton at home on a Saturday night. You have a good night.” Turning on her heel, Gemma walked into her house. After she swept the dog’s tail from harm, she slammed the door.
“Feisty like a redhead, huh?” Sylvester looked at him under hooded lids.
Adonis employed all the skills he’d learned in recovery and didn’t take the bait.
“Good seeing you. I’ll…uh…send you a progress report this weekend. Think we’re ahead of schedule. Definitely will get this all done by Thanksgiving like I promised.”
Sylvester clicked a button. The rear doors closed with a slow, graceful arc.
“Gonna take this home and put it in the drive. Never know if she’ll change her mind.”
“Looked like she made a decision to me,” Adonis said. He’d been on the receiving end of a final decision. He didn’t think Gemma was one to change her mind often.
“Yeah, well. I’ve known her for going on fifteen years.”
“Gotta get going myself,” he said. As much as Sylvester made his skin crawl, he was glad for the interruption. For a moment back there, he’d let his guard down. He’d been about to lay all his crap out there for Gemma to see. Sex and intimacy weren’t the same thing. He was glad he’d realized that.
He jingled his keys meaningfully. “You’re blocking the exit.”
“Oh, right. No problem, bro, I’ll get out of your way. Gotta get going, huh? I know how awful those morning-afters can be. Gotta get out before you’re driving down to Carbon Beach for breakfast.”
As they stood outside in the now-crowded driveway, Sylvester looked left and right as if the live oak and magnolia trees flanking the property had ears. “Was she anything like her sex tape?”
Adonis kept his fisted hand at his side. If he’d learned a single lesson in his life, it was that impulsive actions rarely, if ever, had good results.
Instead he said again, “Good seeing you,” nodded, got in his van, and wondered all the way home what in the hell her manager had been talking about.
Sex tape?
How could someone who’d never had sex have a tape?