Читать книгу Whiskey Sharp: Torn - Lauren Dane - Страница 12

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CHAPTER THREE

In a flurry of wind a red leaf skitters

Dances on the air

As summer dies

And autumn puts on her fiery crown.

“WHY AM I not surprised?” Cora asked.

Rachel and Maybe stood on her porch with a pink-and-white box holding her favorite doughnuts and bearing big grins as well as coffee.

She opened up. “Get in here before you let out all the warm air.”

“You’re not surprised because we’re predictable and nosy. And because we come bearing coffee and doughnuts.” Rachel kissed Cora’s cheek before she put her things down and hung her coat in the front closet.

“We were sort of bummed to find out you’re alone this morning,” Maybe told her as she popped the lid off the doughnut box and carried it, along with her coffee, to the living room.

Cora snorted. “Don’t you two have to be at work or something?”

“My first appointment isn’t until one,” Rachel said as she chose a chocolate-glazed.

“I’m sleeping with my boss,” Maybe told her. “Makes it easier to take time off when I want to. So what’s the deal with you and sexy chef guy? I know I wasn’t imagining it. Especially when he just about shoved Wren out of the way when he got the chance to walk you to your car.”

“He’s making me dinner tonight.” Cora sipped her coffee.

Rachel grabbed one of the throw blankets Cora kept everywhere and tucked it around herself before saying, “I Googled him this morning after Vic left for work. He pretended like he didn’t know I was going to. We like to pretend I’m nicer than I really am. It’s why we’ve stayed together for two years.” Rachel continued after another bite of her doughnut, “But you know Beau’s had quite the colorful life. I mean. Wow. Also the modeling shots alone might have made me pregnant.”

Cora nearly choked on her coffee as she laughed. “Now imagine seeing that in person when you were sixteen.”

“Dude, I’m absolutely convinced I’d have had no idea what to do with a guy like him when I was sixteen. All the tattoos and the piercings. Super hot.”

“We saw the tasteful nudes. He’s quite gifted. And a natural redhead.” Maybe toasted Cora by holding her doughnut aloft a moment.

“You’re going to have to Heimlich me if you make me laugh like this while I’m eating,” Cora said between fits of giggles. “I missed you both. A lot.”

“We missed you too. When you’re done telling us about Beau, let’s talk about you not leaving for so long again.” Maybe reached out to squeeze Cora’s leg a moment.

“He’s got a complicated backstory, to say the least. It’s not every day you meet someone who was raised in and later escaped from a cult. Still, there’s something, I don’t know, genuine about him. He’s...” Cora raised her hands, not finding the right words for how she felt. “Aside from being gorgeous, he’s interesting. It was easy being with him last night at Gregori and Wren’s. And then after. He kissed me. Just a fast thing. Not a peck. No tongue, but he gave me some teeth when he broke the kiss. And he used the sex voice on me. It worked. I mean. Every part of me heard it, like a tuning fork.”

“Zing.” Rachel nodded her head and Maybe echoed the action. “You have zing. I have zing with Vic. Maybe’s got it with Alexsei. Zing is good if it doesn’t, you know, cloud your head because your other parts are too dazed. If you know what I mean.”

Cora batted her lashes and leaned toward her friend. “No. What do you mean?”

Rachel started to reply before narrowing her gaze and flipping Cora off.

Laughing, Cora said, “It’s been a while since I’ve been dazed with zing. It’s not underrated.” She hadn’t had that sort of delicious sexual chemistry with someone in years and she hadn’t realized until then how much she’d missed it.

“Seems to me your priorities are in the right order,” Maybe told her. “Get some.”

Rachel rolled her eyes before adding, “He could get it, no lie. I mean, if I wasn’t head over heels in love with Vic. Literally over the weekend. I need to start stretching before sex.”

Cora and Maybe both burst into giggles. This too, sisterhood, was a sensation she’d missed. The ability to be totally who she was—bumps and scars and flaws aplenty—with these two women in her living room filled her with happiness. Made her more confident.

“Now I’m going to have that in my brain every time I see him. Which is often, in case you haven’t noticed,” Maybe managed to say.

Rachel just shrugged. “So you’re going to let Beau get all up in your space. I also found out some details about his personal life. He’s got a reputation. Or maybe had? Anyway, he likes the ladies. And a few gentlemen too. But not for very long. He used to be a favorite on all the gossip sites. Partied. A lot. But you know, some of those pictures from back in the day were with Gregori and we know he’s changed. He’s had the same core group of friends for years. Gregori and Ian Brewster, the restaurateur friend he mentioned, both live here in Seattle. Another lives somewhere in Europe. That shows something good about him, I think. He’s loyal once he, uh, commits.”

Cora clapped her hands over her ears for a moment, blushing hard. She shouldn’t be gossiping about him! “Oh my god. I should have stopped you sooner but let’s be honest, I wanted to hear it.” She waved a hand, took a bite of her doughnut and thought awhile before she spoke again. “I knew about most of it. I’ve followed his career here and there over the years. I’m going to let him make me dinner. We’ll catch up and have—hopefully—great conversation, and then if there’s anything else—smooching, groping, what have you—that’s all good. At some point he’ll take his new recipes and that chiseled jaw away from Seattle. So why not enjoy what I can now? It’s not like I want him to move in or be my boyfriend or whatever. I just want some fun and to hang out with an old friend. Hopefully have excellent sex. Also I’d like a dog, which isn’t really about sexing up Beau, but more of a life goal thing. Not a big one because my little yard isn’t really good for a big dog. Small and smart and not yappy. I don’t like yappy dogs and the neighbors would complain.”

“This conversation is moving at the speed of light. I’m here for it. And another doughnut. We need to start our walks again so I can have more than one doughnut without guilt,” Maybe said, and then started to snicker. “Just kidding. I love having more than one doughnut and feel zero guilt about that. But I do love our walks too.”

Rachel said, “Okay, now that you’ve told us about your romantic life, why don’t you tell us the rest. Seeing you so happy about this Beau thing has underlined for me I’ve seen that Cora less and less over the last eighteen months or so. You’ve sounded less and less happy, more and more tired. Don’t you think it’s time to seriously rethink your job situation?”

They knew her so well. She hadn’t even really had to say anything.

“I love to travel. A few weeks away is one thing, but three months and more? Too much. And, to be totally honest? It’s a lot harder on my mother than it used to be. But she won’t admit it and she doesn’t have an off switch. So things go left and I have to clean up the mess. Then she gets mad at me because she’s not forty anymore. More often than not what I do is make excuses for some terrible thing she’s done to make someone cry and keeping her out of jail or worse. It makes me tired.” And it wasn’t what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Being her mother’s cleanup person wasn’t a career she was interested in.

“Fair enough. She’s a big personality. But you’re not her keeper.” Maybe used what was left of her doughnut to stab Cora’s way and underline the point.

“Ha! I totally am her keeper. It’s turned into a family joke. I’m the Walda whisperer, the keeper of the creative. It’s fucking exhausting and I don’t think it serves her. Not who she is now. Her career is different. The world is different. I’m different.” Cora shrugged. “Anyway, I used to be content wandering the globe whenever and wherever she needed me. It was wonderful while it was wonderful. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve had a relationship with my mom that is totally unique and good. But it’s also... I’m the mom most of the time.”

“I think it’s absolutely fair that you want to reevaluate the situation now. Yes, she’s getting older, more frail. Especially in the last two or three years.” Rachel paused, looked Cora square on. “Even if none of those things were true it’s still okay. You’re an adult. You get to make choices based on what you want. You get that, right? You want to build a life that’ll take you into your future. You want to shift gears, sink roots and make a life that entails a different sort of work,” Rachel said. “Do it.”

“It should be all right for a while. She’s done, except for promotion, which won’t start for three or four months. And even then it shouldn’t take her too far from home. I should encourage that.” Cora grabbed her notebook and jotted a note down to do more radio and podcast interviews and to have them done in a local recording studio instead of traveling.

Rachel looked pointedly at the notebook before focusing on Cora again. “You’re still taking a few weeks off though, right?”

“Well. I won’t be traveling anywhere nonrecreational. In fact, I was thinking of leaf peeping and could probably include some birding. Perhaps cap it off with a stop at Samish Cheese? Something for everyone.” Cora grinned at them.

“I’m in,” Maybe said.

“Me too,” Rachel said. “Now, getting back to the question, which was about you taking a few weeks off.”

“Yes I am. From my mother. But I’ll be at the gallery. There’s a new installation coming up so I want to be there or who knows what they’ll do?”

“So now you can finally quit being the Walda-keeper and shift to the gallery full-time. But you can still take a week or so. I mean, what did they do for the last three months without you there?” Maybe asked.

The gallery was her baby. Sort of. Cora had spent a lot of time and effort in creating a space that had a voice. A unique voice in a very rich local art scene. “Call me fourteen times a day?” She’d pretty much done the job over the phone and online anyway. But that? That’d felt like it should have. She’d wanted to be involved. It fed her creative hunger in a way few things did.

“Okay then,” Rachel said. “Over the last several years you’ve mentioned here and there that you want to run the gallery full-time. Why not finally make that shift? Then someone else can handle your mom.” Rachel’s severe look had Cora’s denials dying in her chest. “It’s unfair that they’d expect you to keep on like this indefinitely. Oh sure, they all thank you for doing it—and they should—but none of them has stepped up to help you out. Not on this. Plenty of people can be your mom’s personal assistant/manager/keeper. For the right kind of money,” Rachel added at Cora’s expression. “You’re irreplaceable because no one will be as perfect as you. That’s a given. But Walda’s not the only diva in the world. We can help you find the right solution.”

Maybe leaned over to squeeze Cora quickly. “You want to defend your family. But I promise you we aren’t attacking them. We’re your best friends and it is our god-given right to take your side. And to tell you the truth.”

“So let’s skip the part where you tell yourself you’re selfish for wanting something for yourself. Who but you knows Walda works better when lightbulbs are this or that wattage? Or that she likes nutmeg in her coffee? And so what if you do? She’s a grown woman, not a toddler. She can express her wishes to someone else. It’s not like she’s shy,” Rachel said, deadpan.

No, Walda wasn’t shy. But beneath all the feathers and bright colors and whatever else she did, her mother wanted to be loved.

Of course Cora felt selfish. And guilty.

“It’s on the list of things I’m thinking about,” Cora told them both. “Thank you for caring about me enough to make me face this stuff. But I’m done with facing it for now. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me what’s been happening. How was your show last weekend?” she asked Maybe, who played drums in a punk rock band.

As Maybe excitedly filled her in, Cora leaned back, tucked herself under a blanket of her own and let being with her friends wash over her.

Whiskey Sharp: Torn

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