Blindsided (11 page)

No, she refused to feel guilty. He would just have to take responsibility for his own pain. She would not take on the hurt for both of them over what she had always wanted to remain a casual fling. Not that she’d ever see him again to tell him that, but at least it made her feel slightly better. Still, this probably wasn’t exactly the sabbatical the doctors in Sedona had been envisioning.

She was lucky she had a two hour drive, or she’d show up at Tony’s looking like she’d been through the wringer. That was the last thing she needed. Then she’d have to share her misery, rather than just curling up and wallowing in it.

###

“Tony,” Chelsea whispered savagely after yanking him through the first convenient door, which had turned out to be the linen closet. “What the hell? Why didn’t you warn me Mom was here? I could kill you.”

“I tried, Chelsea. You didn’t answer your phone, so don’t blame me.”

“My damn phone didn’t work. Why didn’t you leave a message? I would have liked to know this.” Chelsea forced herself to take a breath.

This was not exactly the relaxation she had been hoping for. She had managed to drive the two hours back to Seattle by imagining sinking into her bed in the guest room and not thinking about Nate or any other stressful topic. But when she had opened the door, she had been greeted by a cloud of flowery, overpowering perfume. Just that scent was enough to make her heart race and her breath stop. Her mother. In Seattle. Heaven help her.

The question was, why? Tony had negotiated that Chelsea would stay with him while recuperating. And how sad was it that Chelsea needed her big brother to negotiate with her mother for her? She was a twenty seven year old woman who turned into a small child when her mother was involved. Tony was her backbone when it came to Annabelle Spencer. The first time Chelsea had heard the term ‘force of nature’ used to describe someone, she had related. Her mother had many things in common with tornados and hurricanes. Devastation for one thing. Quite often a lack of sense for another.

“I stopped at someone’s house. He fixed it for me. But we couldn’t get the part until this morning,” she said reluctantly. Tony would get it out of her eventually.

Tony didn’t speak for a moment. All Chelsea could hear was their breathing inside the tight space.

“You spent the night at some stranger’s house?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Geezus, Chelsea! What the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed!” Tony’s voice rose to an alarming volume and Chelsea shushed him frantically. The last thing either of them needed was Annabelle to hear them.

“Look,” Tony whispered, “I have to go back out there, or Mom will get suspicious and come looking. I’d prefer if she didn’t find us huddled in here with the frigging sheets, okay? So do what you need to do to collect yourself, then get your ass back out there. She’ll be hell to deal with if you disappear for too long. You know that.”

“Fine,” Chelsea whispered. Feeling vindictive, she couldn’t help adding, “Does Jen mind the cologne you wear?”

“Jen doesn’t know what kind of cologne I wear,” Tony said, a touch defensively, “What’s wrong with it?”

“You smell like a gigolo,” Chelsea said. She made a face that Tony probably couldn’t see in the low light, but she couldn’t resist.

“A gigolo?” Tony said as he sniffed his shirt, “I thought I smelled…” he trailed off.

“What?” Chelsea asked, nearly unable to restrain her laughter.

“Manly,” Tony said with the sigh he always gave when he’d resigned himself to her teasing.

“Oh, manly,” she said with a knowing nod, “Okay, off you go. Back to mom. I hope she enjoys your manly scent as much as I do.”

Tony punched her on the arm and slipped out, leaving Chelsea alone to bang her head against a stack of sheets. She would get through this somehow. But it meant she couldn’t stay here, at Tony’s. She didn’t have to look in the guest room to know that her own things would be stashed in a corner to make room for Annabelle’s belongings. Besides the lack of a bed, just the thought of living in the same house with her mother was enough to drive her out of her mind. Tony would play intermediary the way he had always done, but she didn’t want him to have to do that any more. It had gotten more ridiculous every year since she turned 21 and maybe now was the time for it to end. But Chelsea was pretty sure she lacked the strength for that sort of undertaking.

###

“Why don’t you do it like this, dear?” Annabelle asked as she rearranged the contents of Chelsea’s rucksack.

“Because I don’t like to do it like that, Mom,” Chelsea said through clenched teeth.

She had been under attack for the past hour and was about ready to go back into the linen closet. Currently under inspection was Chelsea’s packing method, which consisted of putting pants and shirts into the bag and tossing her toiletries on top. Chelsea had turned away from her mother to pack up her cosmetics and had found Annabelle unpacking her backpack. That would teach her to turn her back on her mother. Not that it mattered. She did what she wanted, whether you were looking at her or not.

“This would be easier if you had a real suitcase, you know. This rucksack is just ridiculous. You’re not sixteen anymore,” Annabelle intoned as she removed the last piece of clothing. The small pile got a derisive look before Annabelle started rearranging it into categories that made sense only to her. She seemed to be trying to make whole outfits out of Chelsea’s jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and solitary, obligatory skirt.

Chelsea bit her tongue and tried to remember to breathe, hoping she was going to be able to get out of here without her mother starting on her. She seemed to be sticking with the bag for now…

“And speaking of your age,” her mother said as she looked up and fixed Chelsea in her crystal green eyes. Here it was. Damn it.

“You really should use a better wrinkle cream, dear. All that traveling is bad for your skin. Airplane air is so dry, and the sun. Do you even wear sunscreen?” Chelsea knew better than to attempt an answer. “I’ll bet you don’t. Why don’t you run down to Neiman Marcus. There is one in this town, isn’t there?”

Chelsea rolled her eyes. Had she made the exact same comment, she would have been in for an afternoon of passive aggressive consequences.

“We could go together,” Annabelle said, once again turning her attention to Chelsea. Her eyes were alight with the thought of shopping. “Maybe we could go now. It would be a nice mother daughter outing. Let me get my coat.”

Annabelle started towards the coat closet. Chelsea made a panicked noise and gestured futilely to Tony. He shrugged helplessly. Throwing a nasty face at him as she followed her mother, Chelsea did what she did best around her mother. She lied her head off.

“Actually mom, I can’t. I have to leave. I’m having some, um, spa treatments done. To relieve stress. In fact, I’m staying there for the next few days. So I’ll be out of your way and you and Tony can have some nice mother son time. Won’t that be nice?” Nice, nice, nice, yes indeedy. Nothing could be nicer, Chelsea thought frantically.

Chelsea realized she had sounded just like her mother. She could turn into Annabelle. There was a horrifying thought. Chelsea went back to the bedroom, tossed all her things into her rucksack and did up all its latches and zippers in record time.

“So, I’ll just be on my way,” she said as she gave her mother the air kiss she knew the older woman preferred.

“What did you say you were having done, dear?” Annabelle asked. Her little fingers dug into the tops of Chelsea’s arms. The woman had an iron grip when she wanted one.

“It’s, uh,” Chelsea stammered.

She had received many strange and interesting spa treatments in her life, not one of which would come to her right now. She looked at Tony over her mother’s shoulder, and once again, he shrugged, unwilling or unable to help. Chelsea plastered a big smile on her face and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Cranial reflexology. It’s the newest thing.” And if her mother had learned to Google things, she would learn that it was so new, it didn’t actually exist.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally taking the effects of the Australian Incident seriously, Chelsea Anne,” Annabelle said, finally releasing Chelsea’s arms. It was a good thing she was leaving. Once her mother started calling her Chelsea Anne, the woman became self doubt dispensing tornado. With that she turned away, saying “Tony, what is Jen doing these days?”

And just like that, Chelsea’s shortcomings took a back seat for the moment. Now it was Tony who was in for the onslaught. Chelsea gave her brother a finger wave and all but bolted for the door.

Stepping out the door of the condo, Chelsea took a minute to take a deep breath of fresh, non-flowery air. Feeling much less claustrophobic after even that simple step, she started down the block towards Bunny.

Seeing her mother always made her feel inadequate, and not just because of her mother’s constant attacks on her. She knew Annabelle meant well, most of the time. What she really hated was her own inability to stand up to her. Mother and daughter had always had a contentious relationship, and then after Brandon… well, after Brandon it was awhile before she could even stand to be around Annabelle.

Chelsea’s knees felt weak and she put her backpack down, reminding herself to breath slowly. Looking around the deserted street, she tried to find something to redirect her train of thought. Her eyes fell on something that certainly took her mind off Brandon and her mother. A black Mustang that looked vaguely like the one in Nate’s garage sat across the street. Great. Now she could think about Nate instead. What a lovely improvement.

Desire flooded through her when a mental image sprang to mind. Oh, he was so marvelously big, hard in all the right spots. Suddenly, she was assailed by doubt. After dealing with her mother, Nate’s bad boy image seemed to be less relevant. She had blown it, and she wouldn’t get another chance with him. Better to focus on just getting to some hotel so she could regroup.

Maybe she’d end her sabbatical early and she could hit the road again. That idea held more appeal than it ever had, and that was saying something. She tossed her backpack into Bunny’s backseat and climbed in to think.

###

Nate’s heart kicked wildly against his chest when he saw Chelsea leave the condo and walk down the block towards him. He couldn’t believe he had been reduced to a stalker. Given his fame, it was pretty ironic. She looked flustered and he wondered if it was still because of him. She had left his house hours ago, but the color in her cheeks was still high, her hands still fluttery. From his limited experience, he assumed that this would be when she would straighten herself up, but she didn’t. What was bothering her that pulling herself up wouldn’t help her? It seemed to fix everything else for her. Too bad that didn’t work for him. He’d love it if he could straighten his shoulders and she’d come running back to him.

He had followed her from his house, cursing himself and smoking like a madman the whole way. He told himself he was just making sure she made it back to Seattle in her crappy car, and that when she got there safe and sound, he’d let her go and forget her. Except he’d sat outside for over an hour, trying to figure out how to see her again without looking like the pathetic freak he felt like.

Now here she was, heading for Bunny and looking like she was about to take off again. She stopped mid-stride, her face showing sudden, but unmistakable fear. He moved to get out of the car, to comfort her, but he stopped himself. She had not been happy with him when she left and nothing indicated that he could comfort her now. He hesitated a moment longer, and she seemed to calm down. She got into the old VW, but didn’t start the engine. Instead, she sat there, staring off into space. Did she have somewhere to go? Maybe it was time to find out.

Nate stubbed out his latest cigarette and got out. Now or never. God only knew where she’d be headed after this. Dubai? The South Pole? Hard to say. At the very least, he owed her an apology for reacting the way he did to her decision. She had been right; he’d made his bed when he made her the offer. Now he had to lie in it. Not a good cliché. Now he was thinking beds and Chelsea, a combination guaranteed to make him say something stupid due to lack of blood near his brain.

When she turned and looked at him through the window of the VW, she didn’t look all that surprised to see him. In fact, he saw the glimmer of a smile on her lips before she turned her head and stared out the windshield. Apparently, she had remembered she was mad at him. But not mad enough to keep her from rolling down the window when he got closer.

“Hi,” he said.