When Angels Cry (18 page)

Bastian laughed. 
“Should I say
‘
congratulations
’
or
‘
my condolences?
’
”

Kaylee sni
gger
ed.  “Probably the latter.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe if the opportunity comes up.   She’d be easier to talk to if she’d just keep her mouth shut once in a while.  Yeah, like that’ll happen.” 
Ka
ylee shrugged and shifted her legs.  Her toes were tangled in the sheet, but a swift kick freed them.  Kaylee closed her eyes and saw her mother’s displeased face, the very same the woman had been wearing when Kaylee had asked her to leave.

“Do you want me to come with you or stay here?” he asked quietly.

“Probably stay.  After all, you wouldn’t want her to get out her Taser again.”

“Hell, no.  That woman is dangerous.  It’s hard to believe you’re even remotely related to her, let alone her daughter.”
  He felt his body tense in memory of his last encounter with Denna Renard.

“Besides,” Kaylee began, “
s
he’ll want to discuss why I have a man here, and I don’t think your virgin ears are up for the choice words I’d have to say to her.”

Bastian kissed her arm.  “It’s nice to know you
’re
only thinking of protecting my innocence.  After all, I certainly wouldn’t want it compromised by your use of dirty language.”

“I’ve been meaning to change my evil ways.”
  Kaylee laughed.

“Don’t bother.  I like your ways,
w
oman.”  Bastian nuzzled Kaylee’s face, pushing her head to the side, finding her earlobe and tri
lling
his tongue across, forcing a muted gasp from Kaylee’s lips.  “Now why don’t you be an evil little girl and corrupt me.”

Kayl
ee kissed his neck.
  “Gladly.”

Chapter Twelve

Kaylee sat in her car just outside of Martin’s Café
,
where she
’d
pulled down the visor mirror.  She frowned at the pallor of
her
reflection.  Still, she looked healthy enough, considering.  A half-hearted grin played upon her lips
.  S
he both lamented and rejoiced in the illusory appearance.  Since she looked well, her mother would never know she was sick.  Then again, it seemed wrong
somehow
to be dying and look normal.

Kaylee brushed one last stray lock into place.  Kaylee started to open her door, but a van whizzed past, and she yanked the door shut, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.  Looking over her shoulder, she saw that the road had cleared
,
and
she tentatively
stepped out, smoothing her skirt as she stood.  Striding
into the
I
, she slid her keys into her purse.

“Will there be anyone joining you?” a tall maitre’d asked, tapping a menu against one of his palms.

“No.”  Kaylee shook her head and pointed at her mother’s table.  “My party is already here.”  Without waiting for a response, she brushed past and sat across from Denna.

“I’m waiting for an explanation about yesterday.  This isn’t like you,” Denna snapped as she unfurled a cloth napkin from around her silverware.  Waiters constantly bustled past, forcing Denna to keep her voice to a seething whisper.

“What? 
‘
No good morning
’
?  No ‘I’ve missed you
’
?” 
Kaylee, too, unwrapped her utensils and placed the napkin in her lap.  The aroma of fresh
ly baked
bread filled Kaylee’s senses.  She picked up the menu and hid behind it, avoiding her mother’s glare.  Despite the skillful dodge, Kaylee felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Good morning
,
” Denna snapped.  “And you know I’ve missed you.  That goes without saying.”

“Lots of good choices.”  Kaylee scanned the sandwiches.  “And what exactly am I supposed to be
explaining
, Mother?”

“What was that man doing at your house yesterday?”

“What hasn’t he been doing at my house?  Let’s see.”  Kaylee set the menu on the table and stared vacantly ahead as though trying to think.  “Eating?  Done that.  Sleeping?  Nope, done that.  Having sex with me?”  Kaylee touched her cheek in artificial shock.  “Good gracious, he’s done that, too.”  She watched her mother’s jaw drop, laughed,  and held up her hands in surrender.  “You know, I guess he’s been living there.  With me.”

“Stop that this instant
.
” Denna snarled, glancing to see if anyone else had heard.  No one looked at them.  “You’re making a scene.”

Kaylee flushed, and her fingers curled to fists. 
“Then stop treating me like I’m five and don’t have a clue.” 
 

“You’re acting like you’re five.  How else am I supposed to treat you?” 
Denna grabbed her purse and pulled out a compact to check her hair. 

             
Shaking her head, Kaylee threw the
napkin on the table and stood. 
She pushed the chair in and grabbed her purse. 
“I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

             
S
itting at the dining room table, Bastian toyed with the newspaper, only half-reading the headlines and barely glancing at the sports section.  Instead, he paid more attention to his watch and the passing of time in Kaylee’s absence.  He slouched and propped his feet on the chair across from him, trying to get comfortable
,
when he heard the front door open and slam shut.  A few minutes later, Kaylee stalked past him, so quickly her skirt billowed in he
r
wake.  He smelled the expensive floral perfume,
but
it seemed a forced pleasure, meant to express her financial status.  The perfume seemed so out of place on Kaylee that Bastian knew she had chosen it as a concession to her mother.

Instead of stopping to talk, Kaylee continued to the fridge, yanked the door open, and pulled out a can of soda. 
Fingers trembling, s
he smacked a glass with ice on the counter, opened the can, and began to pour.

“Hi to you, too,” he said slowly, willing her to look at him.
  He dropped his feet to the floor and sat up.

“Yeah,” Kaylee muttered, taking a gulp from the glass.

“How was lunch?” 
Bastian neatly folded the paper.

“I didn’t eat,” she managed through clenched teeth.
Kaylee tapped the glass on the counter and looked out the window. 

I take it your mom didn’t exactly approve of me.” 
Bastian frowned, folding his arms across his chest. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 
Sighing exasperatedly, Kaylee shook her head.  She touched her neck, trying to massage away the tension.

“That’s bullshit.  Your whole body is shaking, and you’re so mad you could
spit
fire.” 
Bastian crossed to her, and his hand joined hers.  He pressed against her back, trying to support her, but she was rigid, unyielding. 

“I said it doesn’t matter.” 
Kaylee’s hand dropped.  She stepped away and glared at him.  She filled the rest of the glass and downed
i
t
in one long draught.

“You’re going to have to repeat that a thousand times to believe it.  Want to talk about it?”
  Bastian leaned on the counter next to her.

“No.  I said it doesn’t matter, and I meant it.  Now lay off.” 
Kaylee slammed the glass on the counter
and
savagely jerked a stray strand of hair from her eyes and brushed it behind her ear.

“I can do that, Kaylee.  But I don’t think that’s going to help.”  
Bastian straightened and nodded.  He walked out, and, as he passed through the living room, he grabbed the painting he’d completed of Kaylee.  He then headed out the front door, yanked the keys out of his pockets
,
and got into his truck.   What were the odds that the engine would turn
over
and get him the hell out of Dodge?

The odds were in his favor
.  T
he truck revved to life.  He peered through the windshield at a sky swollen with clouds freighted with new snow.  As he backed out of the driveway, he half
-
expected Kaylee to appear in the doorway and try to stop him from driving away.  But the heavy wooden door remained as closed as Kaylee’s heart, at least for the present.  He was surprised she hadn’t told him to go jump in the lake, but then again
,
that
had
, on some small level,
been
what had gotten him into this mess.

Bastian
muttered and drove toward the art studio in a silence that the thunder of a rock beat couldn’t have filled, had he felt like turning on the radio.  Instead, he sporadically tapped the steering wheel and tried not to think.

At the studio, he grabbed the painting and entered
through
the front door.  To Bastian’s relief, the desk where Rosie normally sat was unmanned, but the chair pushed away from the desk and the papers scattered across her Dayplanner suggested she’d return.  Still, he took advantage of the opportunity and slipped past the desk, down the hallway, and into the main area of the studio, where he quickly hung
a
painting.

“Wow
.
  That’s incredible,” a voice said from behind him.  “Kaylee said you were talented.”

Bastian turned to find Rosie standing in the doorway.  She wore a pink dress and a black blazer.  Her long hair had extensions woven throughout, and the room suddenly became thick with the scent of her perfume.

“Kaylee said I made her look sad.” 
Bastian scrutinized the portrait.

“No, it’s not sadness.”  Rosie stood beside him.  “Actually, you just painted all the things she keeps locked away.  Has she...never mind.
  It’s not my place.
”  Rosie shook her head and started to walk away. 

Bastian caught her arm. 
“Has she told me she’s sick?  Yeah.  That’s more than she’s done for A
t
tila--I mean her mother.”
  Bastian caught her arm.

“I guess you’ve met her
,
then.
  She’s rather intrigued with you.
”  She pushed her black blazer sleeves higher up on her arm.

“Like hell she is.  The woman is ready to spit nails.  She’s all but come at me with a crucifix and holy water
, and t
hat’s after she realized the Taser was only temporary.” 
Bastian
perched atop
a stool and felt the cushion give in to his weight.

“She used her
Taser
on you?” 
Rosie’s eyes widened.  The beads in her weave clicked together as she shook her head.

Bastian half-laughed.  “Yeah.  I’ve been staying at Kaylee’s, and she thought I had broken in.  Unfortunately, she didn’t feel like having a Q & A session before she used the damned thing.”  Bastian touched
the
side where the Taser had struck.

“She never does.”  Rosie stared at the portrait.  “She’s like a bull in a china shop-–break things first and sweep up later.  Don’t take it
too
personally.”

“Come again?
 
There aren’t too many ways you can take ‘Don’t mess with my daughter’ impersonally.”

“It’s really not about you.”  She noticed that Bastian had opened his mouth to argue, but she raised her hand, effectively silencing him.  “It wouldn’t matter who Kaylee was dating.  She’d be running background checks, DMV reports, and credit ratings on them, too.”

“Credit ratings?” 
Bastian rested his hands on his hips and glared at her.

“Gotcha.” 
Rosie’s lips turned upward, forming a wicked grin. 

“So you’re telling me that if Bill Gates were to ask Kaylee out on a date, she’d have a problem with him, too?”

“Yup.
  Since he’s married, I don’t think adultery is too high on Mrs. Renard’s positive list. 
But e
ven if he wasn’t
, she’d find something deplorable
about
him.
” 
Rosie curled her fingers inward and examined her nails.  Considering the length, she must
had
one hell of a manicure.  Bastian laughed, a hollow chortle that matched the mirthless expression on his face.

“Okay, what about Richard Gere?”

Rosie arched an eyebrow.
  “The man is too pretty.”
 

“Ewan McGregor?” 
Bastian paced around the room. 

“God save us.”  Lifting her nose in the air, Rosie gave her best impression of Denna before she slipped her hand into her blazer pocket, pulled out an
Emory
board, and filed her long, painted nails.

“The woman is too damned picky,” he growled. 
Bastian stopped in front of one of the windows.  As he stared at the traffic below, a few tentative snowflakes fell here and there.

“My point.”  Rosie leveled her
Emory
board at him.  “Saint Francis of Assisi could come back from the dead with a herald of angels
,
and Kaylee wouldn’t be going anywhere with him.  After all, who can trust dead men?”

“Who in the hell made her God?” 
Bastian leaned against the windowsill, half sitting on it. 

“Bastian, people aren’t like art.  In art, there are certain truths that even colors can’t deny--unless you’re lookin’ at an Andy Warhol painting, and then you’d better get some
aspirin
and blink awhile until things look right.  But that’s art.  It relies on light and shadow, and the rules are set.  People don’t work that way.  I’ve known Mrs. Renard since before Kaylee twinkled into her tummy.  The thing is, Kaylee comes by keepin’ secrets honestly.  Her mother has her share, and they color the way she treats Kaylee.  The sad thing is, keeping quiet isn’t doing a damned bit of good for either of them.”

“That woman has a reason for being as cold as ice to her own daughter?” 
Bastian hefted himself from the sill and strode around the room. 

“She’s not cold.” 
Rosie stopped filing again and stared ahead vacantly, as though composing her thoughts. 

“You’re gonna tell me she has a good reason for living so far away from Kaylee?”