Drunk Dial

  He bit his lip. “Don’t make that sound again, Saloomi. You’re killing me.”

  Landon continued to watch me intently as I devoured the ice cream. I would lick the spoon slowly just to mess with him and could see my reflection in his hungry eyes, which were glistening.

  I began to feed him some of his delectable creation. We alternated bites until everything was gone. And then he kissed away the remnants on my lips.

  Quietly sharing the banana split was really representative of the kind of simple joy I’d been missing in my life back in Michigan.

  Over the next few days, Landon took me everywhere. We drove through Death Valley, hiked Runyon Canyon, visited Mann’s Chinese Theater and the Hollywood Walk of Fame. He even took me to Disneyland and insisted I try In-N-Out Burger, too, since that was a California staple. I’d probably gained at least three pounds since arriving here between his cooking and the fast food we’d consumed.

  We returned late each evening, and he’d kiss me goodnight then assume his position on the sofa in the living room while I took his bed. He was still doing an amazing job of avoiding any chance of sex happening.

  My flight was booked for Sunday—in two days. So, we were really running low on time.

  On Friday afternoon after a whirlwind day out, we were driving back to his apartment when he turned to me.

  “Mind if we take a little detour?”

  “Not at all.”

  After a twenty-minute ride down the interstate, we pulled into the entrance of a cemetery. Suddenly, it became extremely clear why Landon had brought me here.

  “I want you to meet my mother.”

  Taking his hand, I smiled sympathetically. “Okay.”

  We parked then walked through the rows of various-sized headstones, many of which were surrounded by dead flowers. As we made our way to his mother’s plot, I noticed a black hearse parked in the distance followed by a line of cars.

  Finally, Landon stopped in front of a marble headstone that had the name Beverly Ann Downing carved into it.

  “I’ve never taken anyone here before. You’re the first girl I’m bringing home to Mama.”

  “I’ve actually never been to a graveyard.”

  “You’re lucky, then.”

  “How often did you say you come here?”

  “I used to visit a lot more. The past year, life has gotten busier. I come about every couple of months on average.”

  “I’m sure that wherever she is, Beverly understands that you’re busy. She’s always with you anyway.”

  “You believe she can see everything we’re doing?” he asked.

  I had to really think about that. “I do. Yeah.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about that, then.”

  “I just know she’d be proud of you.”

  Landon seemed to cringe. “Maybe now.” He paused. “This is going to sound strange, but I fluctuate between wanting her approval and just pure anger that she doesn’t deserve the importance I place on her.”

  “Are you still angry at her for giving you up?”

  “There are times when I am. But I’ve made bad decisions in my life, too. We all have. And to a point I get why she made the choice she did. Personally, I just couldn’t imagine giving up my child. It’s really hard to accept how anyone could just hand their own flesh and blood over to strangers. I mean, I know she was really messed up. But I just wish she had tried harder to get clean or to find another way. It’s weird…I always felt this disconnect with my parents in Michigan. I know they love me, but I often wonder what a bond with Beverly would’ve been like if I’d gotten to know her and if she weren’t a junkie. Obviously, I’ll never know.”

  It was killing me to see that he was still so hurt over his mother. To me, it was evident why she felt she had to give him up so that he could have a better life. But clearly, he was still in pain, and that made me really sad.

  “Have you met any other family members out here?” I asked.

  “I’ve met her sister—my aunt, Miranda. Apparently, she and my grandmother, who’s since died, had been trying to convince Beverly not to give me up. But my mother just felt it would be better for me.” He shook his head, deep in thought as he stared at the gravestone. “She wasn’t always an addict. My mother actually grew up in Lancaster, which is about seventy miles north of here. She came to Hollywood to pursue modeling and acting.” He looked at me and smiled. “She was really pretty. I’ll show you a picture sometime. Anyway, she got in with the wrong crowd, people who introduced her to drugs. Many of those people are sober now, living great lives while my mother is six feet under.”

  I hesitated to ask, “What about your birth father?”

  “No one knows who he is. It could’ve been a number of people if she was as messed up as I think she was.” He kicked some of the dirt. “Anyway, I just wanted to show you her final resting place.”

  Needing to hug him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned my cheek against his chest. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  He gently scratched my back. “I’m sorry for troubling you with my sob story when Lord knows your mother wasn’t much better than one who was totally non-existent. You’ve turned out amazing considering all of that.”

  “This has nothing to do with Shayla. Don’t ever apologize for loving the woman who gave you life.”

  “Well, even in death, Beverly’s a big part of who I am and a big part of my journey out here. I feel like you need to know all this in order to understand everything else about me.”

  Landon had made it very clear that there was something major he needed to talk to me about. I never pushed it because I didn’t want the pressure of having to open up to him about myself. But not knowing was wearing on me. I knew he wanted this trip to be about getting to know each other. So, I was pretty sure that in addition to no sex, there wouldn’t be any deep discussion in the small time I had left here, either.

  SIX

  Since I would be leaving the next day, Landon insisted on taking me to one of the nicest restaurants in L.A. on Saturday night.

  Figaro was humming with people, but honestly, we could’ve been anywhere; all I could focus on was Landon.

  He’d definitely been in a strange mood all day. I knew he didn’t want me to leave, but he was giving me the impression that he felt conflicted about something.

  It was an unsettling feeling to know that the man I was falling in love with hadn’t opened up to me fully. At the same time, I knew he realized, even though I hadn’t come out and said it, that I was hiding something from him, too. But I could also understand why he didn’t want to put a damper on this trip. The curiosity was killing me but not enough to push having that heart to heart tonight and possibly ruining the last hours together.

  We were surrounded by several other couples who were out on dates in the packed restaurant. I noticed a few women staring in our direction, checking out Landon. I guess that was something I was going to have to get used to. He looked so amazingly hot in his short-sleeved, black polo that showed off the tats on his arms. The material looked like it could have been spray-painted onto his amazing chest. It was seriously no wonder why they were drooling. I felt like reaching across the table to stake my claim.

  Landon took something out of a small bag he’d brought in from the car. “I have something for you.”

  My heart fluttered. “What is it?”

  He slid it across the table.

  I opened the purple box and smiled. “My Rubik’s Cube. I still can’t believe you kept it all these years.”

  “It was one of only a few non-necessities I brought with me when I moved here. I guess I must have had a sixth sense that it was going to become important again someday, that you might find your way to me so that I could personally return it to you.”

  “I guess I know what I’ll be doing on the plane home.”

  “You’d better not figure it out without me there.” Landon locked my feet in with his under the table. “I still can?
??t believe you have to leave tomorrow. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay?” He looked seriously troubled.

  “We’ll see each other again. I promise.”

  In a last-ditch effort, he once again tried to urge me not to leave. “I wish there was a way you didn’t have to go at all. I could even hire you as an extra hand in the truck so you wouldn’t have to worry about work.”

  “You have no idea how much I would love that…”

  My expression must have reflected the opposite of my words.

  “But it’s not an option…” he said.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, I’ll keep dreaming about that scenario.”

  He pulled my legs into him even more with his own. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay…”

  “I know we joke about Lenny being a psychopath, but I’m starting to really hate the idea of you living with a weirdo.”

  “I’m not sure what to do about that. You know how I feel about kicking him out.”

  “I’ll kick him out.”

  “My father says the same thing.”

  “Then Eddie and I will do it together. It would give me great satisfaction. Rana, I don’t want you living with a fucking nutjob anymore. I feel even more protective of you since we’ve spent this time together. It’s ten times stronger now. And it makes me feel helpless that I’m going to be so far away from you.”

  “I’ll figure something out, okay? Maybe I’ll start looking for another place. I need to do it carefully.”

  “You’re crazy, girl.”

  Reaching across the table for his hand, I winked. “You love my crazy.”

  “I do.” He took my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I really do, Rana.”

  His protective nature was a huge turn-on—among other things. It was hard to believe that I’d likely be going back to Michigan without knowing what it was like to make love to this man. I appreciated how careful he was being, but I was seriously dying for more with him. I was afraid of what his answer would have been if I begged him outright to fuck me tonight. Too terrified of the rejection, and pretty sure he would be vehemently against us taking that step given my leaving tomorrow, I decided to keep my feelings on that to myself.

  We ended up having a really laid-back dinner. We reminisced and also started thinking about where he’d take me during my next trip out west. Insisting I indulge one last time during this vacation, Landon ordered me the chocolate pistachio torte for dessert. The meal was perfect. Everything was perfect. That had to mean something bad was going to happen.

  Sure enough, the mood was about to change dramatically.

  At one point during dinner, we were interrupted when a woman approached our table.

  “Landon. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  The muscles in my body tightened as an uncharacteristic look of fear flashed across his face.

  He looked extremely uncomfortable and simply said, “I know.”

  The blonde woman was tall, about five foot nine and looked to be in her late thirties. With high cheekbones and a symmetrical face, she was attractive enough to make me uneasy—especially with the way she was looking at him, as if he were a piece of meat she wanted to sink her teeth into.

  Catching a whiff of her perfume, I was pretty sure it was Quelques Fleurs, the same brand my mother used to steal from the mall. That made me despise this person even more.

  With an icy stare, she looked at me. “Hello, I’m Carys.”

  Her name sounded like Paris with a C. I didn’t answer her, because it didn’t seem like Landon would’ve wanted me to. I felt like a cat ready to hiss.

  Something was off.

  Turning to him, she grinned. “I’ve tried to get in touch with you over the years, but your number is out of service.”

  His body went rigid. He wasn’t looking at her when he said, “That’s right.” If looks could kill, she would have been dead.

  Carys wasn’t getting the hint. “Are you still around?”

  He raised his voice. “No.”

  “Can I convince you to reconsider? I’ll leave you with my new numb—”

  “Please, leave,” he insisted. “This is disrespectful.”

  I’d never seen Landon looking so angry yet vulnerable.

  What the hell is going on?

  “Oh, well.” Addressing me, she shrugged. “Enjoy him while you can, I guess. Before he changes his number on you.”

  Then, she just walked away, leaving the lingering scent of Quelques Fleurs in her wake. Her small ass wiggled against the fabric of her white capris. Feeling like my insides had been twisted, I kept watching her until she disappeared.

  He placed his fingers on his temples. His shoulders were rising and falling with each breath, and he wouldn’t even look at me. He looked utterly gutted.

  “Landon, please, talk to me. What was that all about? Who is that woman?”

  When he lifted his face to meet mine, the fear was written all over it. “I can’t lie to you.” He shook his head. “I’ll never lie to you.”

  “Please. What’s going on?”

  He threw his cloth napkin down on the table. “Let’s go home, okay?”

  The wait for the server to bring our bill and process his credit card was excruciating. Landon was bouncing his knees up and down while he continued to breathe in and out heavily.

  Finally in the car, I watched him fumble with his keys before starting the engine. Unaware of what was really happening, I sort of froze, at a loss for words. Feeling cold, I rubbed my arms as he sped away.

  Neither of us said a single word during the entire ride back to his place. Night Swimming by R.E.M. was playing low on the radio, and I somehow knew that song would forever have a negative connotation in my mind.

  Landon rolled down the window and reached for his cigarettes in the center compartment. He quickly lit one up, sucking the smoke in deeply and blowing it out. He never smoked in the car; he only ever did it outside and away from me. I didn’t even question why he was smoking in that moment because my instinct told me he needed it more than anything.

  His utter silence left me with a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, because even though he wasn’t saying anything, I could feel that he was gearing up for something big. I could somehow recognize that he was in the middle of an internal conversation. A million thoughts were going through my mind as well.

  When he finally parked in front of his place, he turned the car off and took my hand, caressing it with his thumb before lifting it to his mouth for a kiss. Letting out a deep breath, he finally exited the car.

  My heart was pounding as I followed him into the house.

  He stopped in the middle of his living room with his back facing me. I came up behind him and looped my arms through his, resting my cheek on his back. Placing one of my hands on his heart, I could feel his nerves beating through it.

  We stayed like that for a while until he suddenly turned around and took me by the hand to join him on the couch.

  He just started talking.

  “I was really messed up for the first few years after I moved out here. I managed to rent a bedroom in this place off Sunset and started waiting tables, but I was basically living aimlessly for several months. It took me a while to build up the courage to start really looking for Beverly. And you already know how that story ended.”

  “Yeah…”

  “Anyway, when I finally met her sister—my aunt, Miranda—she gave me a lot of information about my mother. She told me there was this movie director named Bud Holliday. Apparently, before he became successful, he and my mother dated, and he was the one who got her hooked on heroin. He ditched her when she started to really lose her way. He’d been sort of acting like her manager before that. He really did nothing for her, except ruin her life. Anyway, years later, he ended up actually directing some films and became a pretty big deal.”

  “What does this have to do with that woman i
n the restaurant?”

  He closed his eyes momentarily. “I need to tell this story from the beginning, okay? Bear with me.”

  “Alright.”

  “Around the time I turned twenty-two, I had gotten a job working as a waiter for a company that catered to the rich and famous. One of my assignments was to work a private party in Beverly Hills. It was at Bud Holliday’s house.”

  I gasped. “Oh, my God.”

  Landon suddenly got up and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Getting you a drink. You’re gonna need it. Getting myself one, too.”

  He returned with two cold bottles of Miller Lite and handed me one.

  “Thank you.” I chugged some of it down, coughing from the rush of cold liquid barreling down my throat.

  Landon took a long sip and placed the bottle on the coffee table before continuing his story. “So, obviously, as you can imagine, I was kind of freaking out that I was going to be in the house of the man who I basically considered the catalyst for my birth mother’s drug problem. I was filled with anger. I didn’t know whether I wanted to physically harm him, give him food poisoning, or what. I just knew that I couldn’t waste the opportunity to fuck him up in some way. It felt like fate brought me to that house.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Well, the chance to get back at him—so I thought—was sort of placed in my lap...and I didn’t even need to use my fist.”

  “How?”

  Landon took another long swig of his beer. “After the event winded down, I ended up hitting it off with this woman in the kitchen. She was about ten years older than me and made no secret of the fact that she wanted me.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Jamie-Lynne Holliday.”

  “Holliday…his daughter?”

  He shook his head slowly. “His wife.”

  My jaw dropped. “Oh…”

  “I had no clue at first that she was married to Bud. She was a lot younger than him. Of course, once I found out, it was all the more incentive to go along with her advances.”