Jezebel Page 12

  “You little shit!” she squealed in good humor.

  “Come here,” he demanded. She watched the muscles in his back as she swam to the edge of the pool before following his lead. He propped his arms up on the pool edge to hold himself in place. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

  “Tell me what you want Celeste.”

  “What do you mean?” she questioned, her brow furrowed.

  “What do you need me to give you to make you look like this forever?”

  This man. She thought about his words, about the weight of them. Rain started to drip from the sky.

  “You,” she answered simply. He grinned and kissed her just as the rain came heavy and fast. They scrambled from the pool and laughed and ran all the way back to their room.

  His biceps stretched the fabric of his shirt, which was wet and sticking to his chest. Wave after wave of appreciation moved through her fluidly as they gazed at the each other. Celeste moved to the window overlooking the sea. Gabriel came up behind her and swept her hair aside with the lightest touch of his finger. She turned, facing him, and jumped up wrapping her legs around his waist. He wasted no time walking her to the bed where they ended up laying tangled together for days, smiling and sighing and wishing they could somehow stop time.

  She awoke to a stream of sunlight shining into the room. Little particles of dust danced in and out, through the rays, and she lay there a moment, thinking about the past few days’ events. She felt like she was soaring and never wanted to come down.

  Chapter 13

  Annabelle

  “Why did you do the things you’ve done? Destroyed my life with so much fun”

  ~ L’âme Immortelle, Betrayal

  “Can you say honeymoon baby?” Madison snorted. Annabelle’s thoughts halted to a stop. “Their honeymoon sounds like my parents.’ My mom gets this crazy look in her eye when she talks about it and she gets all breathy and weird, smiling at my dad like he’s a prime piece of meat.” Madison shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  Annabelle was envious of Madison, of her parents who openly still touched, talked and tried. Madison had no idea how good she had it. “I think that’s nice,” she stated.

  “It’s gross. Trust me. No one wants to imagine their parents doing it.” Cue another shudder.

  “Your parents obviously love each other. You don’t see that? Like that? Jesus, Mad, look at my parents! Would you rather have them?” She raised her voice. Some people just didn’t know how good they had it.

  Madison looked to the floor and slid one shoe back and forth. “No. I mean, it would suck if no one talked or gave a shit. But, no one in my family died either, I have no idea how that would change them.”

  Annabelle was shocked that Madison brought that up. She knew of course, but it was something that they never really discussed as Annabelle’s entire motto for years had been avoidance. “Yeah,” she retorted coldly.

  “Belle, I wasn’t trying to be a jerk,” Madison whined.

  “I know. I just . . . you’re right.”

  “Annabelle,” Jezebel cut in slapping her thigh. “This girl,” she pointed one of those long delicate looking fingers at Madison, “is your best friend and she doesn’t know your deepest, darkest thoughts? She doesn’t know how your home life affects you? She doesn’t know how your brother’s death affects you?”

  Annabelle wished Jezebel would shut her mouth. Some things she just didn’t discuss with anyone—well, anyone before Jezebel. Madison furrowed her brow and watched her friend for confirmation of the woman’s words.

  “Belle doesn’t talk about it. Her brother I mean.” Madison interjected and ran a hand through her long hair. “She complains about her parents and yeah, going over there is about as fun as visiting a mausoleum. But no, we never really talk about it.”

  Annabelle huffed, feeling as if she were now part of some ridiculous intervention. One she did not need. “There’s no point. Why would we talk about him? He died before I even knew you.”

  “Bullcrap!” Jezebel shouted. Madison startled and she jumped a good inch in her seat.

  “Jez. Stop,” Annabelle glared.

  “I will not. Your only alternative is hoofing it to the kitchen or common room to finish out your sentence. I’m quite confident you’ll endure my two cents before volunteering for the kitchen. Hair nets darling. Hair nets.”

  Madison shivered and looked horrified. Annabelle fumed but remained silent. Jezebel had her there; she’d take anything—even Jezebel’s meddling—before hair nets and latex gloves again.

  “Let’s get something out, yes?” Jezebel started. “Your brother died. A horrible event.” Jezebel looked to her and Madison. They both nodded. Jezebel pulled a bobby pin from the back of her head letting her long peppered hair cascade down around her shoulders. “Your parents are a different problem that I’m not going to address. I am going to address your grief Annabelle, for that’s the only one you have any control over.” Starting to feel parched, Annabelle got up and helped herself to a glass of water. She noticed her hands were shaking.

  Her grief. Her grief. Her grief.

  No one had referred to it that way. Ever. It was the family’s grief. It was her parents’ grief—for losing a child. It was never hers—never hers alone. As she sat back down in her chair Jezebel dove in.

  “How did he die?”

  Annabelle closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “It was a hit and run.”

  “Did they catch the person?” Madison asked.

  “No,” she shook her head. “He didn’t come home that night. My parents got worried and called the police but they wouldn’t do anything until he’d been missing for twenty-four hours. My parents rallied some other neighborhood parents and searched for hours.” The words fell from her mouth in a hateful tone. She noticed a calm expression fall over Jezebel’s face and it made her angry.

  “What happened next?” Jezebel asked.

  “I found him. The next morning I was walking to school he was right there, on a dead-end side street near ours. We used to take it as a shortcut to get home. No one had thought to look near the path. Most kids didn’t walk through the woods.” Visions pummeled her, of her brother, bloody and prone on the sidewalk, his gangly twelve year old body set at an awkward angle , of her younger self trying to wake him up, .the way her backpack had spilled its contents on the ground because she was always forgetting to zip it up. Of the walk back to her house. Of her parents’ faces. Of the way from that moment on she became a shadow, simply left in the background as her parents struggled to get through that year—and every year since. She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory. “I was ten. He was twelve.”

  “Oh my God,” Madison breathed. Annabelle watched as Madison hopped up from her chair and rushed at her. Her arms wrapped around her tightly and held on as sobs wracked her friend’s body. The room echoed with her heartache. It could be heard in the sobs, heard in the sniffles, heard in the gasps for air as she struggled to breathe.

  Reluctantly, Madison released her. Annabelle watched as she pulled her chair closer, tucked right in next to hers and reached out for her hand. She took it and wiped her eyes with her opposite sleeve.

  “That my, dear girl, is why you need friends who know your secrets,” Jezebel offered quietly while brushing a clump of hair back over her shoulder. “Comfort. Friends are the family we get to choose. They will lift you up during your lows and cheer you on during your highs. If they don’t, they aren’t truly your friends.”

  ~***~

  The bell rang. It was loud and jarring and irritated Annabelle. She stuffed her notes into her backpack and trudged out the classroom door into the hallway packed with students hurrying to leave the building.

  “Yo,” Madison greeted and bumped her shoulder. She smiled and bumped her back.

  “What’s up?”

  “I have a date tonight.” Madison bit her lip.

  “Do tell.”

  “Andy K
essler, and we’re going to dinner and then paintballing. I have no idea what the hell to wear for that! Could you score your laptop before dinner maybe? We could Skype and I could show you my outfits,” Madison rambled. She was nervous. It was adorable. Madison rarely got nervous. She was full of light and confidence normally. Annabelle smiled at her friend.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll make it happen.”

  “Score!” Madison chirped.

  ~***~

  Annabelle rushed off the bus and down her street. Blowing through the foyer she heard her parents arguing in her dad’s office.

  “Christ, Gavin, can’t you just let it go?” Her mother’s voice was hot and angry.

  “This could be it though, don’t you understand? How can you not support me on this? It’s what we’ve been working on for years.”

  Her mother barked out a laugh. “No, honey, it’s what you’ve been working on for years. I’ve just been along for the ride. You had your chance at greatness and you let it slip through your hands.” Her words were bitter and angry.

  A stinging crack resounded from the other side of the door. Annabelle gasped. The door was yanked viscously open and her mother stormed out red cheeked. Without acknowledging her, her mother stomped passed and up the gleaming mahogany staircase to her room. Her parents’ bedroom door slammed shut with enough force to shake the pictures hanging on the surrounding walls. Surely her father hadn’t actually hit her mom.

  She poked her head into her father’s office slowly. “Dad?”

  “What?” he grumbled without meeting her eyes.

  “Uh, I have a load of homework, could you get me my laptop?”

  “Now’s not a good time. Do it after dinner.” He waved her off without looking up from the papers spread out across his desk. Anger bubbled in her chest.

  “Dad,” she said firmly. He looked up. “It can’t wait.”

  “Fine,” he boomed. Pushing away from his desk he pounded his way to the kitchen to unlock her laptop. Annabelle, curious, made her way into his office to his desk. Sheets of paper littered his desk, notes scribbled in his familiar handwriting all over them. She didn’t know what she was looking at. She couldn’t understand why they were so important to him. Medical jargon and chemistry-like equations were sketched on each one. Formulas, probably, for whatever new drug he was peddling these days to the doctors. But why? He was simply a sales rep. The company he worked for had teams of scientists. She backed away just in time.

  Her father waltzed back into the office, laptop in hand. He thrust it at her. “Here.”

  She took it and scrambled up to her room, confused. She didn’t understand why her father had slapped her mother. It didn’t make sense. Her mother’s days of working were long over. Her mom stayed home, she wouldn’t know anything about her father’s work. She certainly wouldn’t be any part of it, other than in marital support . Her mother kept the home running while her father went to work every day to provide for them. But, she thought, the house was as spotless as ever. Everything in its place as he liked it. How could he be such an asshole? Disgust burrowed a tunnel in her chest. How could her mother let that happen? Why did she not stand up for herself?

  She fired up her laptop and opened Skype. She would never let anyone hit her. Her mother’s soft cries could be heard even from behind the closed door of her room.

  ~***~

  Annabelle’s weekend had sucked. No Internet, crappy TV and being stuck at home had made the time pass uber slowly. Her parents hadn’t helped either. They had avoided each other the entire weekend. Poisonous silence blanketed the Fortin household once again. She had reverted to her head-in-the-sand avoidance tactics. She found that thinking about that slap was more than she could deal with. She had never been so grateful for Monday morning and school. As she pushed through the crowded hallway she spotted Madison.

  “Hey Ho!” she called out snagging Madison’s attention. She watched a brilliant smile light up her friend’s face. She jogged, closing the gap between them. “How was the date?”

  Madison groaned and lifted the hem of her shirt showing a purple bruise atop her hip. “It was awesome, and painful,” she laughed.

  “Who knew paintball could be so dangerous.”

  “He made up for it. He felt so bad. It was adorable. He asked if I wanted him to kiss it better.”

  Annabelle snorted and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “So—did you let him?”

  “No!” Madison laughed and winked. “I’m no hussy. But seriously Belle, it was such a fun night. Like . . . the best.” Madison sighed with a dreamy look in her eye. Happiness bloomed in her heart for her friend. She was genuinely happy to see Madison so happy.

  “Aww, yay. I’m glad for you.”

  “How was your weekend?” Madison asked. “It was torture not having any way to get in touch with you after I got home Friday night.” She pouted at Annabelle.

  Annabelle frowned. “My weekend was long. You know, big house, full of silence.” She shrugged. “I was bored senseless.”

  “Ugh. I’m sorry. I really freakin’ wish there was something I could do.”

  “Yeah, well . . . me too, but I’m the idiot who drank and then drove home.”

  “I meant about your family, but you are an idiot for that stunt,” Madison said and slanted her eyes to Annabelle. “Speaking of idiots—did you hear about Damon?”

  Annabelle turned to face Madison. “No.”

  “He was busted Saturday night. Got pulled over for speeding or something, I guess. Had a big bag of coke on him and an open six-pack. They nailed him. It probably didn’t help he had a car full of people who were so high they didn’t know their asses from their heads,” Madison snickered.

  “Can you please tell me what I saw in him?” she groaned. Madison switched her bag to her other shoulder and shrugged.

  “Escape and a seriously ripped bod.”

  The girls laughed together. Damon was gorgeous and he had offered her an escape of sorts. He wasn’t deep. He didn’t question anything and he had been available.

  “He’s eighteen—how’s this going to play out for him?” Annabelle asked.

  “I dunno. My dad said he’s looking at probation, with lots of counseling and rehab, and maybe even some community service.” Madison’s father was a hot shot attorney who never lost a trial. Annabelle knew—he’d been hers. Thank God for that. If not for him, her sentence would have surely been a lot worse.

  “Is he repping Damon?” she asked.

  “Not a chance. His words—not mine,” Madison answered. “Hey, tomorrow . . . want me to come along again?”

  Annabelle thought about her offer for a second. “Naw. No offense. I just think two visits in a row might be pushing my luck. Don’t want to get caught.”

  “Cool. That lady is freakin’ pushy and weirdly wise. She made my head spin,” Madison admitted.

  Annabelle grinned and nodded. “I think that’s why I like her so much.”

  ~***~

  Annabelle practically skipped to Jezebel’s room. She was excited to see her. The week since her last visit had been long and stressful and today would be a nice reprieve. Today she came armed with something she hoped Jezebel would find fun.

  “Jezzie,” she sang as she pushed into the woman’s room. Instantly she was concerned. Jezebel was lying on her side in bed staring out the window. Annabelle noticed a faint but thick scar that crept out from her tank top near her shoulder blade. Annabelle wondered what could have left such a mark. “Jez? Everything alright?”

  “Hello darling. Fine, fine, just a bit under the weather I’m afraid.”

  “Should I . . . do something else today and let you rest?” Annabelle stuttered out. She didn’t want to do anything else and she hoped Jezebel would still let her sit with her.

  “God no! Please, I’ll die of boredom if you leave. Drag that chair over so you’re closer. It’s just my stomach.” Annabelle scooted her usual chair close to the bed. Jezebel looked flushed and she wondered if s
he was more sick than she let on.

  “Okay. Well.” Annabelle pulled her nail kit from her bag. “I thought maybe we could paint each other’s nails today while we talk?”

  Jezebel’s face lit up with excitement and it made Annabelle happy, a warm heat spreading throughout her chest. “I’d love that! Do you have Harlot Red?” Jezebel asked.

  Annabelle burst out laughing. Only Jezebel would ask something like that. Rummaging through her container of polishes, she pulled out a vibrant red color. “This work?” she asked as she held it up. Jezebel grinned and nodded.

  “Let’s dive in,” Jezebel said as Annabelle pulled out a file and nail scissors. Jezebel gently placed one hand in hers and Annabelle happily started working on the woman’s nails. “Paris, nineteen eighty-six.”

  Chapter 14

  Celeste

  Paris 1986

  Their clothes were spilled across the bedroom carpet, along with the decorative pillows from the bed. Celeste lay beneath the sheet catching her breath. They’d kicked off the covers and the down comforter. She ran her fingers over Gabriel’s chest. He kissed her sweetly and rolled onto his side to get out of the bed, but she reached for his shoulder and pulled him back down. “Tell Monique I’m sorry you were late,” she winked, rolling on top of him and feeling him harden beneath her.

  After their morning quickie, she lay on the bed watching him dress. The scent of his masculine cologne filled the room. Gabriel adjusted his tie and padded over to her. “Good luck today,” he said and bent over placing a gentle kiss to her temple.

  “Thanks love.” She sighed.

  “I’m sure you’ll get the job. The man would have to be an idiot not to see how perfect you are.” He grinned, bearing the dimple she loved so much.

  “Well he’s hiring me for the gardens—not because I’m perfect,” she laughed.

  “Regardless of why—he’s hiring you. Or . . . he’d better.”

  She laughed and shooed him off. “You’re already late. Get going Mr. Fontaine.”

  “True. Monique will have my hide Mrs. Fontaine.” He laughed and headed downstairs.