Explore Her, More of Her (14 page)

The night is warm and spicy. Creatures whistle, squawk, and hiss. Anton leads us up the driveway, and I’m slightly confused because I hadn’t seen another chateau in walking distance. I’ll get around to asking where Mer Rouge is after I finish marveling at how the sprinkles of multi-colored light coat the tall poplar trees. The tiny dots start thick at the bases and thin out the higher they go. I’ve never seen that effect before, which is rivaled by the pink-lighted water pouring out of the three-tiered stone fountain. All the effects could easily cross the line into tacky-Christmas-decorations-ville, but it’s all tastefully done.
 

Braden shuffles up and stops at Anton’s side to inquire about the sort of girls who live in these parts. Anton goes into a rant about how some girls are fat and some are skinny, some are tall and some are short. I chuckle when he goes into a silly story about a short man who has a tall wife with large breasts. Braden looks utterly confused. He has no idea that Anton is screwing with him.
 

Behind me, Melissa chirps in Dexter’s ear about how Scott Whistler left in a huff. She lingers on the part where Whistler exploded when he learned he was being let go.

“‘Your time is short-lived,’” Melissa says, mimicking Whistler. “‘You’re all going to be replaced. Every single
fucking
last one of you.’” She laughs.
 

“What a tool,” Kristen says, going on about how she should’ve never hired him. Apparently she knew he could be difficult to direct.
 

Damien steps up beside me. “How’s it going, Daisy?”

“Good, and you?” I reply.

“It’s been…” He shrugs.
 

I read his gesture as him saying it hasn’t been that good. “Sorry I didn’t make it to Provence. Family issues.”

He looks down and snorts. “I heard.”

“Oh yeah, what did you hear?”

Damien checks over his shoulder to see who’s listening. “Some crazy shit.”

“Like what?”

He comes in closer. “Were you kidnapped?”

I toss my head back and belt out a good laugh. “Gosh, the juicy stuff always travels fast.”

“You weren’t?” he asks.

I think about it. “I guess I was kidnapped. That’s what happens when you have a crazy family, I guess.”

“But you’re free now.”

“Thanks to my husband.”

“He’s the one who kidnapped you?”

“No, my sister and my husband’s brother and cousin did. They’re very peculiar people.”

“So are you coming back or what?” he asks, getting to the point.
 

I shake my head. “That would be a no.”

“Why not? It’s your shit they’re fucking up.”

“Are they really fucking it up?”

“Big time.”

“I can hear you, Damien,” Kristin says.

He gives me a look as if to say Kristin is the culprit.
 

I pat Damien’s shoulder. “Well, the articles and the book are the only two forms of my work that matter to
me
. However, I think Dexter is ready to get you guys back on track. I also think you should speak up more. Hell, it’s your career on the line too.”

“Yeah,” he says as if that’s easier said than done.
 

“Fear is the root of all stagnancy,” I say. “Believe me, I know.”

Damien looks at me as if something just clicked inside him as we reach the dirt road. A cattle truck with white lights strung along the rails awaits us.

“Is that our ride?” I ask Anton.

“It is not your ride.” Anton thumbs over his shoulder. “This is for them. You and I, we go to the lake.”

“What’s at the lake?”

“We will take the canoe.”

Dexter throws up his arms. “What about us? We can’t take canoes?”

“I only have one, and it is only for two.”

Dexter takes my arm. “Don’t forget,” he whispers.

“I won’t,” I say.

Kristin widens her eyes at me. Dexter must’ve filled her in on what we talked about. She could be a little more gracious about it. A kernel of defiance inside me wants to say to hell with convincing Belmont to undo whatever deal he made with Gil Abbot, but I’m not trying to set things right for Kristin’s sake. This is about settling up with Dexter.
 

Anton rows me across the opaque lake in a red canoe. He says that arriving this way to the Mer Rouge Wine Festival is customary.

“So this isn’t a party thrown together at the last minute?”

“Why do you think that is true?” Anton asks.

“I thought it was one of my husband’s elaborate schemes to impress me.”

“You do not care for his elaborate schemes?”

I feel myself beaming. “Yeah, I care for them. I just wonder sometimes. When is he going to stop cold turkey, ignore me, and find a mistress to wine and dine?”

Anton narrows an eye. “What is cold turkey?”

I chuckle. “It’s just an expression. It means he stops cold, like I bore him. It’s over. He moves on to the next Daisy.”

“There is no other Daisy. If there were more Daisies, then more men would be happy.”

I snort. “Ah, now you’re a marvelous bullshitter.”

Anton winks. “But do you think your husband wants a mistress?”

“Don’t they all?”

“No, they do not.”

Of course I’m being overly cynical. The bright moon beaming down upon us has put me in some sort of mood. I’m not sullen or tranquil—I just feel like being candid. Anton paddles, and we glide across the water.
 

“What about you, Anton? What are you going to do about Anna and Nina?”

“What do you mean?”

I watch how smoothly he rows. “Hey, can I do that?”

“Do what?”

“Row the boat.”

Anton shrugs. “Okay, but we will be careful when we make the exchange.”

Anton and I keep the boat steady and balanced as we slowly change positions. I sit at the helm and clutch the oars.
 

“Ready?” I ask him.

“Are
you
ready?”

“Why all the questions to my questions?”

He chuckles. “It is my way.”

“Well, answer my questions, damn it.” I pull the oars, and we’re off.

“Okay, I will answer your questions directly.” He’s silent for a moment. “I have not made love to a woman in a long time. I would like to have the body but not the mind. Actually, it would be nice to have Angelina’s body. Is she really in love?”

I nod. “Um-hum. Very much so.”
 

“All right, well… I don’t want the headache of Anna and Nina.”

“Do you think they come as a package deal?” I ask.

“A package deal?”

“Think about it.”

Anton smirks. “Yes, I do.”

“And if they weren’t?”

“Then I would want Anna’s body.”

“But not her mind?”

“Yes, that too. But first, her body.”

I laugh and shake my head. My arms are getting sore. I glance behind me to see how far we are from our destination. The chateau is close. It sits high on a hill.
 

“What a sight,” I say.
 

Two canoes pass, one on each side of us. We say bonjour.
 

“Daisy, I wanted to say this to you,” Anton says.

“What is it?”

“Don’t wait for the cold turkey. Live.” He shakes his hands at the sky. “
Live
!”

His enthusiasm is infectious and I toss my head back. “I’m ready to
live
!” I shout.

Anton and I beam at each other.

“Good,” he says. “I am ready to see you live.”

“And you—are you ready to live?”

“Very much so.”

I reach the edge of the lake. As if he’s done this a million times, Anton hops out and pulls the canoe onto the muddy shore. He takes my hand and helps me off. “Fame” by David Bowie plays in the distance. Anton and I trot up the scarcely lit stairway.
 

“Do you like this song?” he asks when we reach the grass.
 

“I do!”

“Then let’s dance!”

Anton lifts my arm, and the natural thing to do is spin. He breaks away and shakes his shoulders and moves his legs. He’s a pretty good dancer.

“Dance, Daisy!” he says.

I realize that I’m just walking and watching him, so I move my hips, legs, and shoulders in response. I’m an okay dancer. I get by.
 

Anton curls an arm around my waist as we continue to bop up the grass. The lawn is large. Red, yellow, and blue disco lights light up the front of the chateau, which is set on a hill above. The closer we get, the more people we run into. This party is well attended. I’m having a good time dancing up the quad with Anton, but I wonder,
where is Belmont?

***

Belmont Lord

Daisy hadn’t arrived yet, as far as Belmont knew. He watched his guests file out of trucks or walk up from the lake. He’d had a long phone call with Meg earlier, who updated him on how she and Audrey had made the event look and feel as if it had been planned months in advance, which wasn’t a simple task to perform outside of the U.S. They’d booked popular groups like Simple Road, Hang-a-ran and Dirty Green, pop-rock artist Orange Tank, and pop-soul artist Michael Preston. A few more special guests were also booked just to appease him.
 

The hefty set-list and the promise of the steady flow of Mer Rouge and Mes Fleurs wines affected turnout more than his name, and oh, what a turnout! Meg and Audrey had put their heads together and issued seven hundred fifty invitations. They’d received three hundred eight yes replies, one hundred forty-six nos, and one hundred twenty maybes. There were already enough guests present as far as Belmont was concerned, but more just kept coming. Only one person mattered, and she hadn’t shown up yet.
 

Belmont sneered when he saw Dexter hop out of the back of one of the trucks. Belmont didn’t like to get into physical altercations, but Dexter had earned a good punch in the throat for all he’d done to get between Daisy and Belmont. As if showing up at Chateau Mes Fleurs would work. Dexter’s love for Daisy was unrequited.
 

Belmont smirked. Daisy wanted
him,
and he sure as hell wanted her. Twice that day he’d had to force himself not to grab her by her wet pussy and overdose on just flat out fucking her. He wanted her hard knot against his tongue. He wanted to drink her nectar. Just thinking about kissing her and running his hands up and down her body made his pants tight. Then he saw her dancing across the grass with Anton. His heartbeat sped up as he studied Daisy’s thighs, hips, waist, and breasts. Hell, he could tell she wasn’t wearing panties or a bra.
 

“Fuck,” Belmont muttered. He took a deep breath. He had to get a fucking grip.
 

Daisy and Anton were laughing, seemingly in high spirits. Belmont smiled. Daisy was radiant. He wanted to snatch her away from Anton, carry her to his suite, and rip that dress off her.
Not yet
.
 

Daisy said something to Anton, and he tossed his head back to laugh. Belmont wondered what she had said. Now Anton said something, and Daisy laughed. She glowed in a way he had never seen before. What was it about her? Anton spun Daisy around at the exact moment the answer came to him—Daisy was his Earth.
 

Karl Livre and his date, who looked like the kind of girl Belmont used to pick up in Divin, sauntered up to Belmont to shake hands. Belmont kept his eyes on Daisy as Karl said it was good to see him in France and asked if he planned on visiting Paris.
 

“What do you have in mind?” Belmont asked. It was always business between him and Karl.

“We want to refurbish some power plants in West Africa. The business is good. And you have the means to make it happen fast.”
 

Daisy was engaged in conversation with Anton, but her eyes flitted toward the stage, to the tables and chairs along the dance floor, and to the bar.
 

“I’ll have Meg call Rita. They can set something up for us. Next week?” Belmont said in a rush.
 

“Yes, that is perfect,” Karl said with a deep French accent that was sprinkled with German.
 

“Excuse me, please.” Belmont dipped behind a wall just as Daisy glanced in his direction. Watching Daisy from afar was becoming his favorite habit.

A knot formed in his throat when Dexter walked up to her. Anton dismissed himself, and Dexter put a hand on Daisy’s back as if he owned her. She shook her head. Belmont could read her lips. She was saying, “I will, I will, I will.” She nudged his shoulder and said something else. Dexter reluctantly turned away and rejoined his group at a table.
 

Belmont watched Daisy walk into a tent where the caterers, who were also shipped in from America, were preparing the food. The next time Belmont caught sight of Daisy, she was picking a cheese hors d’oeuvre off a platter. She winked at the server when he caught her. The guy said something, and she blew him a kiss. Humph. He would’ve never guessed that his wife was a flirt, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Whenever Daisy chose to seduce him, she could bring him to his knees and leave him begging for more. Like when she’d grabbed his cock earlier. Belmont had thought he would burst. When he made it out of the cottage, he’d had to stop and collect himself. He had no idea how he would make it through the night without pinning her up against a wall or spreading her across a table and fucking her brains out, but he would give it the old college try.
 

Belmont watched Daisy walk out the back of the tent and sashay along the flower garden. She stopped to incline her face toward the white gardenias. She took a deep sniff, held it, and let it go. He smiled when she smiled up at the moon. Daisy skipped up the steps of a stone pavilion. When she reached the marble floor, she noticed the darkness lingering between the ancient walls. He knew Daisy well enough to know that she was paying homage to the life and times of the structure. Daisy often revered sunsets, moon risings, architecture, and landscapes. He had never asked her to tell him what she was thinking when she looked at the world that way. All he wanted to do was make love to her. But from now on, he was going to start asking.