Tempest Tossed: A Love Unexpected Novel (19 page)

Chapter 4—Dylan

It was nice of Stephen to come to my stateroom but there wasn’t much he could say that would ease the pain. Even the bottle he brought with him did little to numb me. I didn’t feel like talking much and I didn’t even feel like drinking much. He clearly wanted me to tell him the whole convoluted tale that sent Rene packing, but I was in no mood. Telling it once in a day was one time too many.

He finally left me alone with my thoughts. Those thoughts mainly centered on escape. It wasn’t the most productive way to handle my situation, but running away kept cropping up as the most appealing option. After all, I couldn’t untell the story.

She’d given me a clear enough answer. I was too complicated, too messy for her to handle. So be it.

I threw some stuff in a bag and clunked out of my room and off the boat. I nearly fell off the gangplank. A few drinks and a pair of crutches do not make a steady man. The guard in the cockpit moved toward me as if to help me but the look I gave him sent him shrinking back into the shadows.

This time I checked into a swank hotel right off of Hyde Park. I didn’t need to be near El Loco. I worried a little about leaving Lady D. alone again, but Rene and Stephen could take good care of her. Whatever else I might have thought about Rene at that moment, she was a fine monkey-mama. It still surprised me how much Lady Delaney took to her. At first I had taken it as a ‘sign’ that Rene was somehow uniquely right for me. It made me feel stupid to recall the weight I’d attached to a capuchin’s opinion.

The room was pure luxury and the staff got me comfortably settled in despite the late hour and my rather scruffy appearance. I’m sure I wasn’t the first eccentrically underdressed dude who ever crossed their threshold.

Once I got settled in, I spent the next couple of hours surfing fishing forums. I read about angler adventures until my eyes were too tired to go on. I put my tablet beside me on the bed and fell asleep in the wee small hours fully clothed.

When morning came, I realized that I hadn’t packed anything I really needed. The hotel sent up a razor and a toothbrush but without clean dressings for my leg I couldn’t take a proper shower. Board shorts and t-shirts weren’t exactly the right attire for London, either, so I ordered a huge breakfast from room service rather than embarrass myself in the fancy hotel restaurant.

Eating reminded me of Rene. She was a better cook than this fancy hotel had because she cooked for
me
. Maybe it was my imagination but every meal she put in front of me told me she cared. I pushed the thought from my mind.

By mid-morning I gave Stephen a call to let him know where I was and ask him to bring me a few things from the boat. At least with a pair of khaki’s and a regular shirt I could go shopping. The meeting with my father was going to require the right costume.

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

“Boss, where the hell are you?”

“Hyde Park Mandarin. Nice place.”

“We were worried when you weren’t in your room this morning.”

“We?”

“Rene’s frantic. She went in to wake you up with breakfast this morning. Freaked out when you weren’t there.”

“What do you mean—freaked out?”

“She was crying, okay? She apologized to me, to you and your monkey for being, as she put it, a coward and a traitor to just about everything but the Queen of England. She kept begging me to tell her where you went and when I couldn’t she flew out of here. I guess she went looking for you, but I wouldn’t guess she’ll find you. London’s a big place.”

I tried hard not to be happy with the thought that Rene was wandering around London frantically trying to find me. But it did make me happy. At that moment I wanted her to suffer a little. She deserved it for being—her words—a coward.

“I need you to bring me all the medical crap. The bandages, the antibiotics and the stuff I’m supposed to put on the wound when I change the bandages. Also grab me a pair of khakis, a decent shirt and some shoes. I need to go shopping.”

“Aren’t you coming back to the boat?”

“Not for a couple days. I need to see my father and I can use the time to clear my head. Rene can wait. She doesn’t need to know where I am.”

“Can I at least tell her that I know you’re safe?”

“I’ll kill you if you do. Let her worry and wonder.”

“That seems a bit cruel. You didn’t see her reaction when she found you had gone. She’s genuinely sorry.”

“She’ll still be sorry when I get back. Or not. Maybe she has some thinking to do, too.” The wound was fresh and I was in an unforgiving mood.

“Look, I was mad at her for bailing on you too. But she explained to me . . .”

“I don’t care what she explained. I told you: Rene can wait. This meeting with Jackson is too important for me to go into with a clouded head.”

“I’ll bring the stuff.” From his tone, I could tell that Stephen wasn’t happy about my refusal to patch things up. But he hadn’t been there when I laid my naked soul out for her and he didn’t know the full story. Unless she’d told him. “What exactly did Rene explain, Captain?”

“Not enough to suit me, mystery man. Only that your past was too complicated for her to handle all at once. That she got confused and there were ‘words’ between you. She’s almost as good as you in terms of playing it close to the vest.”

Good. I would have found it hard to forgive her if she’d spilled my story to Stephen. It was mine, and only mine, to share.

“Get over here as quickly as you can. Room 342.” I told my friend.

“I’m on it,” he answered.

Once again I had reason to be thankful for my old pal. He didn’t have the whole picture and he didn’t quite agree with me, but he was willing to help me. Sometimes I wondered if I had as much loyalty inside me. If our roles were reversed, could I be as patient?

When Stephen brought the things up, I didn’t express my gratitude very well. In fact, I sort of grabbed the stuff and hustled him out of the room. I was through talking about Rene. She had to go into a box for the time being.

By the time I cleaned myself up, dressed the wound and put my clothes on, I was exhausted again. But I dragged myself out of the hotel and hailed a taxi to take me to Saville Row. I wouldn’t have time to get a tailor made suit, but I was sure I could find something of suitable quality to satisfy my father. I intended to buy the finest suit, shoes and accessories I could find.

There was a good deal of perverse satisfaction in tallying up several thousand pounds on the credit card my father provided for my use in keeping El Loco well appointed. “Let the old man pay for it” had been my bitter mantra for too long. It made me my father’s serf, which is exactly what I figured he wanted me to be.

His office was not located in the flagship hotel. Jackson found it more efficient to operate his empire from the cloisters of one of London’s most prestigious addresses. He once told me that actually being in one of the hotels was a distraction because he would always find some detail that needed to be fixed.

That’s the way he operated as a father, too. When he was around us, we distracted him because we so desperately needed to be fixed. So he stayed away from the asylum that he called ‘home’ for as many days in the year as possible.

The receptionist sat in an almost comical caricature of what a tycoon’s office should look like. Dear old dad went for the dark wood paneled vibe with maroon leather sofas and lots of books. They weren’t fake books, either. There was a vast and respectable library of finely bound volumes meant to convey class and culture. Funny, in all the years I’d been his son, I’d never seen him read anything more involved than a newspaper. He hid very well behind the Wall Street Journal or the Financial Times.

She was expecting me, but I was clearly not what she expected.

“Mr. Cruz?” she asked when I approached her massively ridiculous desk. “You father is expecting you but he asked that you wait a few minutes while he finishes his conference call.”

Predictable. Even though he had ample warning to clear his schedule, my father couldn’t resist making me wait. It was all part of the game.

The secretary was a brittle bottle redhead. I was surprised that my father would hire a woman with such an unnatural shade of burgundy hair. Maybe it was because she matched the upholstery. She looked me over at embarrassing length.

“You do favor your father,” she cooed at me. “I daresay you Cruz men are a handsome bunch.” Her accent was as fake as the hair. Lurking under all the London was the unmistakable twang of England’s lower classes. Her ‘father’ came out ‘fava’.

I was expected to respond to the compliment. “Thanks.” I couldn’t bring myself to lie to her and tell her she was cute.

“What happened to you?” she asked, casting her eyes at my crutches. Way, way too much make-up was all I could think. I was tempted to tell her it was a congenital deformity just to shut her up.

“I had a little accident
.
”
Please don’t grill me on it.

She got up and sashayed over to a panel below one of the bookshelves and pressed a button. A bar slid out. “Something to drink?”
Sumpfin
to drink?

“No thanks. It’s a little early.”

She laughed like I’d made a huge joke. “I meant coffee or tea or something.”
Sumpfin
.

“Thanks, I’m good.” I was trying to avoid the bedroom eyes she was throwing at me.

“Oh, I’ll bet you are that, eh, luv?”

Good god. I willed my father to relieve me of this predatory tart. When I didn’t respond to her remark she took the hint and returned to her desk, all swishy hips and shiny polyester.

“Maybe you’d like to grab a bite after your meeting? Mr. Cruz would let me ‘ave an early lunch.” Brassy
and
bold. I wondered if she put the make on the old man. I had a little inside chuckle thinking of how appalled he would be to have this piece of work come on to him.

“Uh, really, I can’t. Business.”
Let. This. End
.

“You staying in London long?”

“Not long.” I looked around for a magazine to open. Anything to bring this painful flirtation to a close.

“Where ya’ staying?”

“The Mayfair,” I lied. I wouldn’t put it past this girl to come and find me.

“I’ve always wanted to see the inside of one of those fancy rooms,” she sighed dramatically and pointedly. I waited for her to flutter her false eyelashes at me. It would have added just the perfect touch to her performance.

Mercifully, I heard the discreet little buzzer that signaled I was to be let into the inner sanctum.

“Mr. Cruz will see you now Mr. Cruz.” She giggled at herself. I suppose she thought that was clever. As I walked past toward her desk she shot up out of her chair to open the door for me. Predictably, she managed to brush suggestively against me as I passed

I waited for the door to close before I spoke.

Chapter 5—Rene

Dear Hannah,

It’s a little after ten a.m. London time and I know you’d kill me if I woke you up now. So, I’ll have to settle for writing. I have to ‘talk’ somehow to someone. I’m so glad we got a chance to talk for real yesterday.

You really did make me feel better. You’re the perpetual voice of reason and don’t ever forget how much I love and appreciate you! Honestly, I wonder how I would have gotten through the last couple days without you. Captain Stephen says he has forgiven me for my awful behavior toward Dylan, but there’s still a distance. For one thing, I know that he knows something about where Dylan is but he absolutely refuses to tell me anything. He won’t even confirm that Dylan’s okay.

I think I have a right to be told something. If it wasn’t for me nursing that wound on the trip to London, Dylan might not have been able to get up out of that hospital bed. I think I deserve a little credit for sticking by his bedside, don’t you? I’m a little miffed with Stephen.

Lady Delaney is my constant companion. She knows something is wrong, she misses her best friend and she’s clinging to me. I wish she could talk. Maybe she’d be able to talk some sense into Stephen.

The thing that’s weighing on me right now is that even as I write this, Dylan should be meeting with his father. Jackson Cruz’s a mean one, Hannah. I know I described him but until you see the old devil in action you can’t really appreciate what a complete jerk he really is. He played a huge role in the nasty trauma of his children’s childhood just by looking the other way. I don’t care how much our fathers love our mothers, they’d never turn a blind eye to that kind of sick abuse.

I felt a little guilty about telling you the story. It isn’t like Dylan swore me to secrecy or anything, but I guess it was sort of implied. After all, I’m the first person he’s ever opened up to about it. After the therapists, of course. I should have been flattered instead of running away from it. Just like you said—the man has to feel something pretty special for me to tell me that sick mess of a tale.

So, on the off chance I can salvage this relationship and you meet the man, please don’t let on that you know. It would either embarrass him or hurt his feelings or both.

Yesterday was hell. When I called you on SKYPE from the coffee shop (sorry about all the background noise) I had been aimlessly wandering around London for hours. If we hadn’t connected, I might have gone on wandering all day. I guess I needed you to tell me to calm down and point out that I was looking for a man, on foot, in a huge strange city. I apologize for catching you at that ungodly hour, thanks for being late for work on my account.

After our call, I got back to the boat around one in the afternoon. Stephen was gone and so was most of the crew. There’s not much for any of them to do while El Loco is just tied up at the dock and the boss and captain are both gone.

I went into Dylan’s room, kind of just to be closer to him. I put my face into his clothes and tried to smell his scent, but they were all fresh and all they smelled like was detergent. So I lay down on his bed and pulled the pillows out from under the spread and buried my face in them. His smell is like saltwater and spices. I could bury my face in his neck and just breathe him in for hours. Yeah, right. Love sick much?

What am I going to do if he won’t give me a chance to make this right? I know you told me not to panic, but every hour that passes makes me realize how much I want this man in my life. I can’t begin to describe how much. I’ve never felt so alive and so
female
with anyone ever. It’s amazing to me that I could ever have imagined I loved Nathan or Jake.

I still get a sick feeling when I think of how crappy I allowed myself to be treated by Nathan. I wish I had known you then. You’d have slapped me silly for staying with that creep. Even now, I think he’s part of the reason I bailed on Dylan the other night. Nathan used to use his dysfunctional family as an excuse for being a dickhead. I think part of me was afraid that Dylan was going to do the same thing. I even accused him of it. I feel terrible about that argument now.

And Jake? The best I could say about that relationship is that we were friends with benefits. Knowing what I know now about what it really means to have a man do right by your body I have to say that Jake’s benefits weren’t all that. His assets, either. LOL.

Dylan makes me feel worshiped. That whole inner goddess thing I thought was so silly is now very real. When he touches me, it’s almost like a prayer. I’ll shut up about that now.

What I’m really worried about right now is that he’s facing down daddy dearest. That man could make even you cower. Seriously.

I told you that Dylan was going to confront Mr. Cruz about his future. He wants to do more than sail around on a boat the rest of his life. He wants to work for a living and he resents the fact that his father won’t give him a chance.

Trouble is, the father thinks that Dylan is weak. But he’s not! I mean, look at what he endured and survived. It’s a miracle he’s a whole person. And then, I know it sounds like a small thing, but if you could have seen him with that fish. I’ve never seen anyone work like that. I swear to you that it was not physical power that brought that big girl to the boat. It was sheer determination. Will.

He’s got passion for so many things, too. He’s so committed to conservation and saving the oceans. Half of me hopes that his father will turn him down. I’d like to try to see him follow his heart and devote himself to a cause he believes in.

And then there’s Lady D. I have a pretty good idea what kind of father he’d make having seen him with that monkey. Oh god. I did not just say that, did I? No, I am not considering having his babies. It’s just something to think about.

Dylan despises his father but I think there’s still a small boy inside who wishes things could be different. Even if there’ll never be a real father-son lovefest going on, I think Dylan wishes his father would acknowledge him as something other than a weakling and a misfit. If Mr. Cruz could ever look at his son and find him ‘competent enough’ that would satisfy Dylan. IMHO.

Tick-tock. Is he going to come back here? What if Mr. Cruz does give him a position? Will that be the end of El Loco and the crew, including me? I have this scary fantasy of some stranger coming on board with pink slips and severance pay and I never get to see Dylan again. Lady D. will go into quarantine which would probably kill her. El Loco would go into dry dock and never sail again.

Okay, too much drama. No pink slips, just instructions to sail back to Lauderdale and hang around until someone wants to take a little cruise. Maybe they’d add monkey caretaker to my duties.

I’m not sure I’d want to stay on El Loco without Dylan. The job could get to be real dull real fast.

It’s a half hour ‘til your dreaded alarm goes off. I’d call and wake you but for once in your life you actually signed out and shut down before you went to bed. I can’t call your cell because I still don’t know how to use the ship’s phone otherwise I would risk your wrath and wake you up.

When Dylan finally comes back I intend to do exactly what you told me to do. I’m going to apologize and try to make him understand it was just panic talking. I’m going to tell him how much I want us to go on without scaring him with over-the-top emotions. No matter what, I will remain calm and in control.

Easier said than done, my friend. Control is not a word that fits the way I feel when I’m around him. Anything but. He’s the one in control of me. It’s like I depend on him to take a breath. That’s why the whole illness thing was so traumatic. I was holding a thousand breaths, waiting for him to return.

You have also told me, not just about Dylan, but about other things that risk is part of the game of life. In my particular game, I know I’m risking having my heart torn out of my chest and fed to the sharks. Right now, I think he’s a risk worth taking.

I love you, sweetheart. Thanks for being the best friend anyone could ever hope to have. R.