The Story of Lansing Lotte (7 page)

When his bright blue eyes met mine, I blinked. I felt tasered and my stunned emotion showed when I failed to respond to him. I had to blink again and I looked to Herman, as if unclear that Lansing Lotte had just addressed me. When I still didn’t reply, Lansing said something to Herman in Spanish that I did not comprehend. Both men laughed and Herman winked at me as reassurance. Their laughter slapped me out of my stupor; it was then that my mouth decided to work.

“Maybe one day I’ll take you up on that dance, instead,” I said, without even thinking. It was how I had gotten into trouble all those years ago. Flirting.

His face showed his surprise, which made me laugh.

“I’m sure you know how to tango,” I said, leaning forward and winking at him.

It was his turn to blink. He looked at Herman, an expression on his face that showed he wondered if I was for real. When Herman shook his head in warning, Lansing burst into laughter.

“I don’t know about tangos, but I know how to wiggle.” He broke into a crazy twist in front of Fleur, who turned toward him. He continued his gyration, for a moment or two, before Fleur started following his lead. She shyly swayed her hips, as he continued his silly moves, and then he broke into song.

It wasn’t one of The Nights tunes I recognized. I knew their hits, even though I wasn’t a fan. I couldn’t be around the music industry and not know songs by The Nights, but his voice was deep and playful, as if he wasn’t used to being the center of attention. I’m sure he wasn’t, with the gorgeous, dangerous looks of Arturo King front and center on the stage and a voice that could melt panties. The band also had the model good looks of the dark blond Tristan Lyons, who had a reputation all his own. They all had a reputation, even the allusive Perkins Vale, but the Lady Killer had to be a hard reputation to keep up or shut down.  Either way, I knew Lansing had just shot an arrow of admiration into my Fleur. She broke from my legs and moved into the space between us to continue her dance to the subtle voice of Lansing Lotte.

The next day would have been perfect to meet Layne, except I got a call from Tristan an hour before our date.

“Did you know that Guinevere was pregnant?”

I nearly dropped the phone, but caught it with my opposite hand as it slid out of my grasp.

“What?” I choked. For a brief moment, I had a fear that Tristan of knew my indiscretion - that I had kissed Guinevere when I rescued her from Mel Agent. Idiot that I was, I immediately reminded myself there was no way she could be pregnant from that kiss, which meant one thing and one thing only. Arturo King was going to be a father. Again.

“Dude, I think you need to meet me at the hospital. I’m a bit out of my element.”

“What?” I growled. “Why is Guinie in the hospital?”

“Can you just get here and I can explain? I think this is bad, man. Really bad.”

I was already out the door and in the elevator when the line went dead. No service in the caged trap. Along with the ancient history of the building, it included the traditional caged box of a lift. It moved slowly as if I was descending into another level of hell. First had been the descent into Arturo’s accident and missing body. Then was the step further into Guinevere’s pregnancy with another man’s baby. Not just any man, my best friend.

I cursed myself as I raced through the streets in my white Dodge Charger with a bright red strip down the center. I was no white knight, but I pushed my powerful beast to new speeds and maneuvers within the busy streets of Manhattan.

When I arrived at the emergency room entrance, I was immediately met by Tristan, just inside the hallway that I paced after Guinevere’s kidnapping. Tristan leaned against the wall, making eyes at a nurse seated at the station. He had that look on his face that I’d seen many nights. He was going home with someone, most likely the blonde behind the desk.

“Dude,” I snapped at him, forcing him out of his flirtation.

“Lans, man.” Tristan reached for me and slapped me on the shoulder. 

“What happened?”

“Arturo got her pregnant.”

“Obviously.”

“I came to see her this afternoon. Talia said she was resting and I said I would wait. As long as I was there, Talia wanted to go to the market. She said Guinie wasn’t feeling well, so I said I would stay. I heard Guinie crying, moaning actually, and when I entered the bedroom she was in the bathroom. Man, the blood.”  Tristan stopped and shuddered.

“I rushed her here when she told me she was pregnant. I don’t think that much blood was normal, but I’m no expert.”

My hands were locked in my hair, holding my heavy bangs back as I took in deep breaths of air. It wasn’t what she needed. It was the last thing she needed.

A female doctor came out of the room. The same doctor as the night of Guinie’s kidnapping.

“Gentlemen.”

She began to walk away, almost as if she knew neither one of us was the father.

“What happened?” I asked, cutting off her retreat.

“She’s had a miscarriage.”

I choked and it was Tristan’s turn to run his hands through his dirty blond hair.

“How…how far along was she?” I questioned with concern. She didn’t seem like she was comfortable answering, and she eyed me for a moment before she looked at Tristan. I watched him step into her space and smile a crooked smile at her. That was all it took. 

“Eight weeks. It’s not uncommon for this to happen, due to the amount of stress she’s under.”

“What happened?” I asked again.

“Her body simply rejected the fetus.”

“The baby,” I corrected without a thought.

She narrowed her eyes at me. I remembered that glare from the last time I stood before her.

“She needs rest. Her body will need time to heal…and so will her heart,” she added softly, before she broke her stare with me, nodded at Tristan, and stepped around him to continue down the hall.

I watched as she signed some papers. Then the blonde nurse approached Tristan to say Guinevere could be released, and she got off in half an hour. I left Tristan in the hall to finish working out his plans and entered Guinie’s room. For the first time in weeks she looked at me, tears slipped down her face as she shook her head at my approach. I swallowed hard before I spoke.

“I’m taking you home. The nurse said you can go. Do you need my help?”

“No,” she sobbed.  “No, thank you. Just give me a minute to dress.”

I nodded and exited the room to wait for her. When she opened the door after a few moments, I noticed again how thin she was. She looked sunken in; her added sadness at the sudden loss only magnified the pain she wore within her face. She moved slowly, reaching for the wall to balance as she walked down the hall. 

“Guinie,” I pleaded gently, as she walked ahead of me.

“I got it,” she grumbled, as she gripped the safety rail on the wall.

“Stop it,” I snapped as I reached for her. Slipping an arm around her back, I bent at the knees and picked her up, carrying her out of the hospital like Arturo had only months ago.

I had completely forgotten about Layne Ascolat, again, for Guinevere DeGrance.

When I drove to Arturo’s place, I texted Layne at stoplights to apologize.

Me:
I’m so sorry.  Something came up.  Explain later.

Layne:
Sure

Me:
I promise. 
Later.
 
Tomorrow?

Layne:
Tomorrow would be perfect.

There were those words again. A promise of tomorrow with Layne, but I needed to take care of Guinie that night.

Arriving in the private garage, I guided Guinie out of my car. She didn’t speak and I didn’t encourage conversation. There wasn’t much to say at that point.
What could I say?
I didn’t know how Guinie felt, but sadness was written all over her.

I helped her into the apartment where Talia immediately began fussing over Guinie as I waited in the living room. I stood at those same windows, staring out into the city lights, cursing Arturo King. I’d never been angry at him. I never questioned him, but if he was alive, and he had let her suffer to the point of losing a baby, I was definitely damning him. God forgive me, I hated him at that moment. For a split second, I swore he better be dead.
How could Arturo desert her?

Talia suggested I go home after a while, but I refused. I said I’d make myself at home in one of the guest rooms. It seemed that we had made Arturo’s home a revolving door of support, whether we needed to be here for Guinevere or for ourselves was undecided. The room was always ready for whoever stayed the night. Often times it was Kaye Sirs, as I wasn’t exactly comfortable spending the night without another person in the place. Deep down inside, I knew I didn’t trust myself to be alone with Guinie. I wouldn’t hurt her, but I wanted answers to her cold war against me. The unknown pregnancy could certainly have added to the guilt she harbored.

Around midnight, I heard a soft cry as I stared blindly at the late night television program. I don’t even know what I was watching. I was deep in thought instead, thinking about missed opportunities, when I heard the sound a second time. I wandered down the hall and stood outside Guinie’s door, listening. A whimper stole the silence.

“Guinie,” I said softly, leaning my head against the solid wood.

The air was heavy with breaths held and after several minutes, I heard the strangled sound again. Pushing open the door, I found Guinie curled into herself, hugging a pillow between her arms and chest. She didn’t turn in my direction as I spoke her name again. When she didn’t respond, I simply crawled onto the bed saying her name one more time. I slipped in behind her, my arms slowly encircling her, smoothing my fingers down her bare skin then clasping my hands over hers. I expected her to flinch. I anticipated it, but she didn’t move other than to slowly relax into me. Her back nestled into my chest, and I felt her shoulders slowly release tension. It was almost as if it was falling off of her, and I was more than willing to take the weight from her.

Eventually, I heard the even breathing of her and I could feel her racing heart of sadness slow into a steady pattern.  I laid there for a long time in Arturo King’s bed, holding onto his girl, and cursing him further for making her suffer.

I was having the most glorious dream. A dream I’d often conjured after I kissed Guinevere DeGrance, all those years ago. I dreamt that I took her on that date I planned, and she kissed me again. Only that time, the innocent kiss led to more. Much more. I could feel her hand skim up my chest and slide around my neck to hold me tight against her breasts, as she whispered across my lips that she had wanted me as much as I wanted her. I imagined those lips gracing mine sweetly before turning into something deeper. A passion that simmered until a boil of kisses everywhere: my lips, my jaw, my neck. I could almost feel her breath mixed with mine, breathing me into her.

“Arturo?” she whispered, and I woke with a jolt.

“Where have you been?” she continued into the crease of my neck, skimming her nose along the juncture between my neck and shoulder. She kissed the muscle at the top of my arm and paused. I held perfectly still as she pressed a hand onto my chest and pushed herself upward.

“Lansing?”

Dazed blue eyes looked at me in utter confusion. She scanned between our bodies to find herself wrapped within my arms, her own chest hovering over mine, and her leg between my legs as her hips rested on mine.

“What are you doing here?” she said softly.

I blinked at her, afraid to answer other than the truth.

“I heard you crying.”

“Why are we like this?” She narrowed her eyes at me, as if I had done something.

“I feel asleep after you did.”

She rolled off of me and I felt empty, as empty as the look in her eyes. She lay on her back next to me, staring up at the ceiling.

“I think you should go,” she said softly.

“Guinie,” I pleaded.  “Don’t do this. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help. You need to stop trying to rescue me. Everyone needs to stop hovering.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Well, you need to stop getting into trouble,” I retorted. I sucked in a breath as I recalled the severity of what happened to Guinie. She hadn’t done that to herself. She had lost a baby.

“What happened?” I asked after a moment.

“I was pregnant.”

I waited knowing there was more.

“Arturo didn’t know. I was told that the tests the night of the kidnapping showed a positive, but it would have been so early…like literally, only two or three weeks. I wanted to wait until I knew something more definite.”

She paused and I gazed sideways at her. She sighed deeply before she continued.

“I found out for certain a few days before the fundraising concert. I wanted to tell Arturo before he left on tour. I wanted to tell him that night,” her voice began to shake. She didn’t need to say more. Arturo King had obviously not known he was to be a father, again.