The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (64 page)

Eric cleared his throat. "I hope you're not planning to share them."

"No."

"Thank you."

"I soon realized I was acting again. Always on the go. Not staying still so I could think. Then I met you and for once I felt whole. Not because I'm with you but
because
I'm myself. You accept all of me. No one except Cassie has ever done that." She kissed his shoulder. "I'm not afraid of falling and I don't expect you to come with me."

"You shouldn't settle for less."

"Who says I'm settling?"

She touched his face with such tenderness he briefly considered the benefits of falling. Her soft hand grazed the stubble on his face. He felt as if he were a beast she was trying to tame, but he was a man who didn't need her affections. Didn't want them. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He couldn't understand how she could know nothing about him, yet would risk loving him.

Her hand fell to his chest. "I can feel your heart beating."

"Surprised I have one?"

She rested her head against him. "No."

He remained still, not daring to move. He was too close to the precipice; he could feel the earth trembling beneath him, but perhaps if he was careful he wouldn't fall. He had to stop talking, trying to put into words his apprehension. It made the danger of their relationship too real.

He said her name and she looked up at him. He kissed her, pulling her close. He held her as if she were a butterfly that had landed in his palm, careful to give her the choice to stay or fly away. Afraid that if he held too tightly he would crush her wings and hurt her.

He entered her with reverence as though he had been allowed through the doors of a sacred cathedral, its glorious, sanctified walls welcoming him. It washed away the filth of his past and the man he used to be, forgiving him his desire and making him worthy of this gift, this comfort.

His hands learned every part of her, her skin becoming a new and fascinating entity. Everything about her fascinated him. He kissed and held her as if he'd never been with a woman before.

Adriana closed her eyes, feeling the gathering of tears. Tears sweet with joy, ecstasy. She was floating on a cloud of pleasure, reveling in his masculine exploration of her, succumbing to the bliss of being one with him.

"You're crying." He brushed a tear away with his thumb.

"I know."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." She held his face in her hands, determined to find a way to melt the ice in his eyes. "You healed me."

* * *

The sound of the doorbell crashed through Eric's peaceful slumber early the next morning. He grabbed his robe and answered the door.

"Do you know what time it is?" he demanded. Keith took a step back. He glanced at the door number to make sure he was at the right address. He seemed to have awakened a hibernating bear. "Sorry, I must have the wrong—"

"Hi, Keith," a sleepy, feminine voice interrupted. The sound of his name seemed to increase the man's scowl. He saw Adriana peeking behind the bear, who stood as a barrier. Either to block his entrance or her exit. "Come in," she said.

He stared at the man, unsure. "Uh."

She patted the man on the back. "Eric, go back to bed. I can handle this."

He folded his arms. "You haven't answered my question," he said in a low growl.

Keith cleared his throat. "Uh, yes. I know it's early, but Adriana is used to me."

Sharp brown eyes cut through him. "Uh-huh."

Adriana tugged on his arm. "Eric, go to bed. You're just tired."

"I'll make coffee."

"No. I'll not have you sending Keith into a diabetic coma. Go to bed."

He rested a hand on the door frame and sent him a cool, appraising look. "You do realize she has a little girl she has to get ready for school?"

Keith nodded. "Yes."

"Plus a full day of work?"

"Yes."

"So this won't happen again."

"Yes, I mean no. Uh..."

"Right."

Keith glanced down and saw Elissa. "Hey, kitty." He bent to pet her. She hissed at him.

"Take her with you," Adriana told Eric.

He scooped the cat up, mouthed, "Don't give him money," and turned.

Keith breathed with relief when Eric disappeared down the hall. "Who the hell was that?"

She ushered him inside and closed the door. "Don't worry about him, it is early. What do you want?"

"No need to be like that. I've come here early before."

"I know." But she had changed. She turned and headed for the kitchen, hiding a yawn.

He patted his portfolio. "I wanted to show you my new paintings."

She gestured to the table as she poured water into the coffeepot. Once finished she stood over his paintings. "Excellent."

"Thanks to your generous contribution, I've got an appointment with Lorna."

"What about Sartan?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "Didn't work out. We didn't have the same vision. However, I think Lorna is my big chance. Unfortunately, the landlady is scratching up my back and I can't work with her screeching at me." He paused. "If I could just get a loan."

Adriana sat, resting her chin in her hand. "I'm really tight this month. If you can't afford the rent, you may have to move."

"I can't move, it's the perfect location, the windows and the space allow my creativity to thrive."

She drummed her fingers. "I can't keep bailing you out."

"Just this last time."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes."

"I believe in your work," she said, hedging. "But I'm not rich enough to be a patron."

"I know, you've been great. Last time. Promise."

"Okay, let me get my handbag." She suddenly groaned. "Which I left in the bedroom."

"Don't worry about it," he said, sensing her apprehension and having some of his own.

She stood. She would not be intimidated by Eric. He might be her boyfriend now, but her money was still her own. "Just stay here."

She peeked into the room and then quickly headed to her bag on the dresser.

A deep voice penetrated the darkness. "I told you not to give him money."

She turned on a lamp. "Yes, you've told me a lot of things I've chosen to ignore."

"Adriana—"

"This is none of your business."

"It is my business when I see you giving your income away to a lazy Samfi man."

"He is not a con."

"You should be spending it on yourself. What kind of friend is so selfish to have a hobby he expects others to pay for?"

"First of all, Keith has talent, and second, art is not his hobby, it's his career. Many artists struggle in the beginning."

Eric came over to her as she searched through her handbag. "How long has he been at this?"

"That doesn't matter."

"Does he know about your career, your sketches?"

"It's not the same."

"I guess you just enjoy throwing away your money on other people's dreams."

"You don't understand."

He turned her to face him. "I do understand. This gives you the perfect excuse not to reach your goal. Not to focus on yourself so you won't fail."

She yanked out of his grip and turned to her bag. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture."

"How about a lesson then? See what kind of friend he is. Tell him no."

She grabbed her checkbook. "Go back to sleep."

He seized her arm. "Adriana—"

She looked up at him, defiant. "Yes?"

He released her arm and watched her go.

* * *

"So you came back alive," Keith said, resting back in his chair with his coffee.

"Yes." She lifted her pen, then stopped. "I have one question."

"What?"

"Are these paintings yours?"

He looked unsure. "Yes, of course."

"Then who's KSY?"

"What?"

"One of your paintings had KSY as a signature."

"That's sort of a stage name."

"I didn't realize artists used them."

"I'm sort of in between a divorce. I don't want her to get any of the earnings."

"I see." Adriana quickly wrote out the check and handed it to him. "This isn't just about talent. It's about friendship, trust."

He took the check and stood. "This is the last time, I promise. Thanks."

She chewed her lower lip. "You know, I'm having a fashion show in February the weekend of Valentine's Day."

"That sounds great." He opened the door. "I hope it goes well."

"You're welcome to come. I'll be—"

"February's going to be busy," Keith cut in. "You know Black History Month and all. Besides, I'm not really into fashion, but thanks for asking."

She managed an understanding smile. "Right," she said and gently closed the door.

"He's lying," Eric said behind her.

She spun around. "You weren't supposed to be listening in."

"He can't make your fashion show because he's a selfish donkey who doesn't want to appear anywhere where he won't be the focus."

"I think I can figure out my own friends."

"Every word that comes out of his mouth needs washing. It's covered in—"

"Eric!"

"I don't trust him."

Sya had said the same thing, but she'd had many friends others didn't understand. Besides, she liked being needed. She liked to know she was helping him. "That's your business. I know what I'm doing."

"We all make mistakes."

She walked past him.

"How much did you give him?"

"It was a loan."

"Has he ever paid you back?"

"He will—"

"Once he makes it," Eric finished in disgust. He swore.

"You have a filthy mouth."

"And a filthy mind. Do you want me to tell you what I really think of him?"

She dropped her robe and got in bed. "I don't care."

"Fine." He kissed her on the cheek.

"What was that for?"

"It was either that or slapping you on the rear for your stubbornness."

She kissed him on the mouth. "It was either that or strangling you." She switched off the lights.

* * *

Adriana woke with an odd sense of panic. It increased when she noticed Eric was gone. She found him in the living room tying his shoes.

"You're leaving?" It was a silly question. His bag sat next to him, his jacket hung over the couch.

Eric grabbed his bag and stood. "You didn't expect me to stay forever, did you?"

"No," she said quickly. "No, of course not. I'm glad you're better." She didn't know why the words sounded false.

He put his bag down and sighed. "You have that worried look on your face."

"Are you leaving because of this morning? Because of Keith?"

"No, I'm leaving because it's time."

Adriana tightened the belt on her robe. "Right."

Eric watched her. "Moving in is a big step."

She jerked her head back. "I don't want you to move in."

He grabbed his bag. "Then that's that." He opened the door.

"Don't be angry."

"I'm not angry."

She leaned against the wall. "I enjoyed having you here. I'm just not ready—"

"I know. Don't worry." He turned.

She didn't want to see him go. She searched her mind for something to say. "Could you take Nina to work one day?"

"Why?"

"She's supposed to do a paper on a career."

Eric looked at her. "Why don't you take her to work?"

"I'd rather not."

He shook his head. "It's not like you run a bordello."

"Your job will be easier to explain."

"But—"

Adriana held her hands together. "Please."

"Does she know what you do?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll pick her up one day."

"Thanks."

They stared at each other, leaving certain thoughts and feelings unsaid so that they hung in the air between them, waiting to be revealed. He finally turned to go.

* * *

She missed him. Adriana buried her face in his pillow and shook her head. It was ridiculous to miss someone like this. He had his place; she had hers. They were temporary lovers, nothing more. No, that was wrong. They were boyfriend, girlfriend now, but she still didn't know for how long.

She showered and changed and went into her office and switched on the radio. Soothing jazz floated from the speakers. He had changed the station. Instead of being annoyed she laughed and switched it back to a rock station. She turned to her desk and stopped. "Oh no."

All her pencils had been sharpened, any eraser remnants swept away, scattered papers placed in the wastebasket. Her sketches were stacked. On top of them was a bad drawing of a bluebird. Underneath in Eric's barely legible handwriting he had written:

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches on your soul and sings the tune without words and never stops at all

—Emily Dickinson

"Damn you," she whispered without malice, brushing her tears away. She pushed the picture aside and began to draw.

***

She knew it wasn't in her budget, but she couldn't resist. It was a child's leather jacket that was the spitting image of hers. It had Nina's name on it. She could just imagine them walking down Sixteenth Street in their matching jackets, jeans, and black boots. It would be a wonderful gift for Nina since she'd been such a good help with Eric. Plus their relationship had improved immensely.

Adriana examined the jacket, then looked at the price. She cringed, but her desire dampened any reservations. Nina deserved the best. She was used to it and Adriana wanted her to know her mother could get pretty things like her father could.

* * *

"It's really nice," Nina said, running her hand over the soft leather.

"I have a jacket just like it," Adriana said proudly. "We'll be matching, coordinated. Won't that be nice?"

"Yes." She hugged her. "Thanks, Mom."

"Try it on."

She did. She looked awkward, but Adriana was sure Nina would get used to it soon enough. She imagined getting her earrings and more fashionable jeans and tops. Nina needed something better than the old granny sweaters she wore when not in school. Perhaps she could even get her interested in fashion. She could buy her a teen magazine. Then they would have something more in common.