"Your ass is mine, Michelle. Why don't you just admit that to me and yourself and end this ridiculous charade?" His words float through the air, pounding inside my head with all the gentleness of a sledgehammer. Never having been one to accept defeat easily, I dig in my heels and prepare to deflect his next blow. But no more words escape from behind the wall of that sinister grin plastered to his face. My pride gone and my resolve wearing thin, I stomp away in frustration, ceding reluctantly to his victory. Watching him saunter towards me, I wait for the inevitable gloating to begin.
Offering me an outstretched hand, he regards me warily, asking, "Truce?" When I fail to reply, he juts out his lower lip and begs, "Please, Michelle?" I can feel myself caving when he insists in his best little-girl voice, "I'll be your best friend."
Unable to maintain my stoicism any longer, I reach around his shoulders and hug him to me, whispering in his ear, "You are my best friend, Bill. But..." I insist, forcing myself to push him away while feigning indignation, "I'm still mad. It's not nice, you know?... Beating me every time. It wouldn't have killed you to have let me win a couple of matches, would it?"
"Killed me? No. Bruised my over-inflated male ego? Definitely. How would it have looked if I, Bill Lewis, tennis ace extraordinaire, lost to a... to a girl?"
Batting my eyes, I respond, my chin held high, "Like you are a true gentleman who knows how to treat a lady. But it is obvious that you, sir, are no gentleman."
"Lady?" I hear him mumble under his breath with a snort. "Well, let me be the first to apologize for not taking your delicate sensibilities into consideration." Grasping my hand in his, he bows in front of me, mocking me as I continue to pout. "I do see your point, though," he begins, lifting his head to stare at me with a pair of devious hazel eyes. "I suppose that after I won the first game fair and square, I could have chivalrously forfeited any one of the twelve rematch games that you insisted upon. Please accept my most heartfelt apology for being so brutish."
Seeing the small smile begin to curl the corners of his lips, I know that if given the opportunity, he can keep this up all day and probably most of the night. When he opens his mouth to speak again, I put a finger to his rosy lips and shake my head from side to side, asking, "Enjoy having fun at my expense, do you?"
I watch as he throws his head back, laughing, and I can't help but join in. "You make it so damn easy, Michelle," he gasps, attempting to catch his breath. Placing the back of his hand against my forehead, he asks teasingly, "What is with you? Who are you, and what have you done with Michelle Bauer?" Answering his own question, he says, "I think that in the six days that you've been here, you've grown soft. Since when do you expect me to take it easy on you, anyway... on or off the court?"
Contemplating his question, I ask, "What do you mean?"
"Oh come on. We've been competitive since we were walking. Grades, cars, jobs... you name it." When I nod in agreement, he looks at me and with his hands on his hips asks, "So why am I suddenly expected to handle you with kid-gloves, huh? It doesn't have anything to do with a certain Mr. Santos, does it? Let me guess... He coddles you and pampers you, and makes you feel like the most important person in the world when you're around him. And now I'm what... chopped liver?"
Chastising myself for even entertaining the thought that Danny Santos could ever feel anything for me, I force my lips to say, "Don't be absurd, Bill," even as my heart screams something else entirely. Giving in to the thoughts running rampant in my mind, I admit to myself that for those brief moments that Danny and I spent in the hallway on Thursday, I did feel like one of the two most important people in his life... second only to abuela.
I haven't seen Danny since that afternoon, but he is constantly on my mind, even occupying the spaces that I thought were permanently reserved for Jesse. Funny, I think. I can't even remember the exact color of Jesse's eyes anymore. I guess this is what Rick meant when he told me that I would eventually move on. In the six short days that I've been here, I have done more emotional healing than I have in the past three months combined. Jesse has been reduced to a distant, albeit fond memory. Six days. The same amount of time it took The Lord to create the world. Will miracles never cease.
And now my best friend stands before me, teasing me as mercilessly as always with a wicked grin upon his face. Having not seen one another since just before Jesse left, I have missed this comfortable banter that we seem to fall into so effortlessly.
Snapping his fingers in front of my face, he says, "Earth to Michelle. Where'd you go?"
"No where. I was just thinking," I begin before being cut off.
"About how I am the greatest tennis player in the world?" I cock my head to the side and stare at him through squinted eyes. "Say it, Michelle. I want to hear you say it out loud."
A hefty price to pay for losing thirteen games, I think. But I consent, mocking him as he did me earlier, "You're the man, Bill. I am forever in awe of your skills on the tennis court. I am not worthy to breathe the same air that you do. You are the all-time champion and I bow in your presence." With that, I tug on the legs of my shorts, executing a half-assed curtsey.
Grabbing me by my upper arms, he pulls me up to face him as we both explode into a fit of laughter. "Does this mean that all is forgiven?" he finally manages to ask.
Nodding, I pull him into a warm hug and whisper how much I've missed this... him.
Releasing me to look into my eyes, he replies, "I've missed you too, Michelle. I have." Encircling my waist in the safety and comfort of his arms once again, he bends slightly to place a light kiss upon my left cheek.
My pulse quickens and my eyes flutter open as I hear the familiar sound of size twelve shoes approaching on my right. Danny Santos in stone-washed jeans and an untucked pullover shirt stops four feet away, regarding us cautiously before speaking. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. I just finished running some errands and was heading back to the house when I spotted you two over here. I thought I'd come over and say 'hello'." I open my mouth to introduce them, but Danny ignores my attempt, keeping his eyes on Bill as he extends his right hand. "Danny Santos," he begins, sizing Bill up with one quick sweep of his eyes... from his wavy blond hair, down his muscular Ralph Lauren clad body, to the soles of his brand new Nike's. "And you are?"
"Bill Lewis. Pleased to meet you. I'm a friend of Michelle's" Bill says, grabbing Danny's hand in a firm shake.
"Obviously," Danny replies with a hint of what I think sounds an awful lot like jealousy. A smile creeps over my lips, but I extinguish it when Danny turns his eyes on me briefly. Realization setting in, he fixes them back on Bill, asking, "Did you say Lewis? As in Lewis Oil?"
"That's us," Bill begins, and Danny yanks his hand away, letting Bill's drop limply at his thigh.
Shocked, I ask stupidly, "You're familiar with the company?"
Danny's eyes remain locked in place, and when Bill realizes that I'll get no response from him, he offers, "Sancorp controls some local construction operations and they are one of our biggest competitors."
"The biggest," Danny corrects. Turning to me, Danny explains, "Sancorp is a conglomerate. We have varied interests, but we have recently been expanding that portion of our business and hope to have no competitors within the next ten to twelve years."
An uncomfortable tension has settled between them, and I find myself nervously banging my tennis racquet against my kneecap. I watch as they face each other like two roosters in a cockfight. A fight to the death, I think. Biting my bottom lip, I try desperately to fight the laughter building in my throat and to keep my composure.
After a long pause, Bill says, "Well, good luck man. That is one lofty goal you have set for yourself. It's important to never lose sight of your dreams."
A smirk spreads over Danny's mouth, lighting a spark behind his black eyes. "I won't have to dream much longer... the reality is within my reach." Pausing for effect, he adds, "Maybe I'll hire you to come work for me... if you're any good."
Knowing Bill like I do, I can tell that his blood is boiling underneath the cool facade he is showing to Danny Santos. Rocking back and forth between the balls and heels of his feet, he addresses Danny with a penetrating stare, saying, "I don't think my family would appreciate that."
"Forgive me," Danny begins with a smirk as if he has just won a huge victory. "I didn't realize that your family still had controlling interests in Lewis Oil. I just assumed that, like me, you were the CEO."
Letting out a deep sigh, Bill responds, "I'm afraid not, Mr. Santos. The company is headed by my father and uncle. I simply work for them."
Feeling the need to defend Bill from the onslaught of questions and underhanded insults being hurled at him, I wrap my arm around his waist and pull him against my hip, saying, "Not for long, right?" Turning my eyes on Danny, I notice that his are transfixed on the spot where my hand rests on Bill's body, and the twitching little muscle in his jaw begins it's familiar angry dance as I explain, "Bill's in the computer engineering graduate program at SU. That is where his heart is. He has no real interest in Lewis Oil in the long run... it's just something that's paying the bills in the meantime."
Both men shoot daggers in my direction. Danny's reaction, I get... Bill's has me flabbergasted. I want to just rewind this day about four and a half hours and start over. I had been so excited about Bill's visit this weekend that I literally sprung from bed at nine o'clock, reveling in the chance to wake to the sun on my face rather than to a beeping in my ear. Swinging the door open when the bell rang at precisely ten o'clock, I was met with a sight for sore eyes... my best friend's smiling face, a leather duffle bag slung over one shoulder, two tennis racquets in the opposite hand. I wish I had never agreed to come out here and play. Fate... is a bitch. Fate brought Danny Santos home at 1:30 this afternoon, thrusting him into Bill's orbit. And now, here they both stand, boring holes into my skin with their eyes. Neither knows what to say to the other, so they both wait for me to break the silence.
Laughing nervously as I unwind my arm from Bill's waist, I ask, "Why are we even standing here talking shop on such a beautiful Saturday?"
"You know what, Michelle?" Danny begins, "You are absolutely right. As a matter of fact, I was on my way inside to have a late lunch. You two care to join me?" Looking from me to Bill, one of the phoniest smiles I've ever seen in my life extends from one corner of his mouth to the other. I stare at him attentively, repulsed and turned on all at once as I imagine those luscious lips blazing a trail of kisses over my entire body.
The nerve of this man. I have never seen someone run so hot one minute and so cold the next without even breaking into a sweat. Would we care to join him? When pigs fly, I think. Just as I open my mouth to sweetly reply 'no thank you', Bill surprises me, answering for the both of us. "We'd love to."
Danny looks stunned to say the least, but masks it well as he says, "Wonderful. Why don't you join me in the courtyard in five minutes."
"We'll be there," Bill says to Danny's retreating figure.
"We'll be there?" I ask incredulously once Danny is out of earshot. "Are you out of your mind?"
Turning his eyes from the direction of Danny's back, Bill closes the gap between us, his face mere inches from mine. "Am I out of my mind? What about you?" Confusion spreading over my face, I start to ask him what he's talking about when he cuts me off, saying, "I don't need or appreciate you speaking for me, Michelle. I am more than capable of defending myself... especially with a prick like that."
My mouth agape, I feel tears sting the backs of my eyes as I offer, "Of course you are, Bill. I was just trying to help you out. I didn't enjoy the pissing contest going on between the two of you and I wanted to end it. It's as simple as that... no ulterior motives."
His stance softens considerably and when he notices that I am visibly shaking, he rubs my arms and says teasingly, "I see. So the fact that he was so jealous that he couldn't see straight was just an added bonus?"
Punching him in the chest, I lead him towards the house, saying, "Let's get this over with."
Walking through the French doors, I spot Danny already seated at one of the patio tables awaiting, somewhat anxiously it seems, our arrival. I watch as Olga works quickly, setting down plates of finger sandwiches, raw baby vegetables with curry dip, a pitcher of tea, and some type of homemade confection. When she turns to quietly leave, I notice dark circles underneath her weary eyes. Poor thing, she works so diligently, shouldering all of the responsibilities of running this house on her own.
As I approach the table Danny stands and moves toward the seat in front of me, but Bill beats him to the punch, pulling the chair out for me. "Now who says that chivalry is dead?" I ask, looking at Bill in the seat to my right and then at Danny in the seat facing me.
Grabbing a carrot from the vegetable tray, I crunch loudly, stabbing at the deafening silence. The wheels spin in my head as I desperately search for something appropriate to say to alleviate the uncomfortable tension between us. When no words come to mind, I sigh loudly and slump my shoulders, defeated.
Danny senses my futile attempts and comes to the rescue, saying, "I know that we agreed to not talk shop, but I'd really like to know how yesterday's therapy session went."
Even though there is nothing new to report, I am grateful to finally be having a conversation that won't stir up any controversy, and I offer him a small smile before answering. "Well, yesterday's session was about like Thursday's. Abuela's still taking a few small steps with the walker." Seeing his face cloud with disappointment, I add, "Danny... she's progressing about like I would expect at this point. At least she didn't have another setback. You know... there can't be a tremendous breakthrough every day. Thursday was just an exceptional day."
Looking at me with passion-filled eyes, he says in a slow, hypnotic, sensual voice, "It sure was. I don't think I'll ever forget it." I blink my suddenly heavy eyelids and wet my lips, watching him watch the work of my tongue as it darts over the sensitive, feverish skin. For a brief moment, I forget that Bill is even in the room and guilt washes over me.
The room is once again plunged into silence and I nervously push the food from one corner of my plate to the other, averting Danny's eyes. Eyes which both frighten and seduce me all at once are now caressing my body from across the table. Trying feebly to ignore the silky moisture beginning to build at the opening to my core, I dab at the sweat on my forehead with my napkin and turn to my right, focusing all my attention on Bill.
I lean into him and in a barely audible whisper, ask, "Have you had enough?" Shoving the last sandwich into his mouth, he nods. "Good. I'd like to rest for a while, if you don't mind."
Turning to bid our farewell to Danny, I am met with eyes flaming with anger and something else unreadable. Fear glues me to my seat and I find myself unable to turn away as he says sarcastically, "What's the matter, Michelle? Not sleeping well at night?"
My blood begins to boil and I wonder if they can see the steam pouring from my ears as I spit, "As a matter of fact, I've slept better these past couple of nights than I have in months."
"Well, that's good to hear," he says before turning to stare into Bill's questioning eyes. "You see... a few nights ago I found Michelle in the kitchen at four o'clock in the morning, suffering with a terrible case of insomnia."
Gripping my knees underneath the table, I watch as the knuckles of both my hands turn white and I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. I shift in my seat and address Bill, saying, "Yeah... you know, Bill... it's the damnedest thing, really. It seems that I had fallen into some sort of a pattern. Every night something would invariably rip me from my peaceful slumber at about two o'clock and I would have one hell of a time getting back to sleep after that. Luckily, that stopped a couple of nights ago and I've gotten a full night's sleep ever since."
I snap my head forward, facing Danny, and it is he who turns away first, avoiding the intensity of my stare. I haven't said anything untrue. Either he has become more discrete with his late night rendezvous or he hasn't had an overnight guest since that night in the kitchen. Whether they stopped because he has been unable to find a willing participant or out of respect for me, I don't know. I like to think it's the latter, even if I may be deluding myself.
"Well, if you'll excuse us," Bill interjects, clearing his throat as he stands and escorts me from the room. Not another word passes between Danny and myself and I fight the urge to glance back for one last look at that maddening man. I'd probably turn into a pillar of salt, I think, biting my lip to suppress a giggle.
Safely within the confines of my room, Bill plops down on my bed as I rub my suddenly throbbing temples. "So that was the infamous Danny Santos? Not exactly what I was expecting."
Curious, I sit down next to him and ask, "Infamous? And what exactly is he famous for?"
"You're joking right?" When I shake my head from side to side, he swings his legs over the bed, sitting up beside me. "Jesus, Michelle. I can't believe that you are living here with a man you know nothing about."
Panic causes my stomach to turn flip-flops but I force the voice from my throat, correcting, "Work for."
Frustrated, he drops his head into his hands and rubs his face, insisting, "Whatever. You do live here, though... am I wrong?"
Shaking my head 'no', I implore, "Bill... what? You're really scaring me."
Rubbing my back in slow, reassuring circles, he asks, "How much do you know about the car accident?"
"Well, I know that Danny was driving. His sister was killed and his grandmother was seriously injured and in a coma for a while, but he walked away with nothing more than a gash to the head," I offer, wondering if there is some missing piece to the puzzle that he can fill in.
Seeing that I have nothing more to say, he asks impatiently, "And what about all the controversy in the news?"
"News? What controversy?" I beg stupidly, feeling a lump rise in my throat. I have always prided myself on keeping up with current events, but I hadn't even known there had been an accident until I called Ray, responding to his ad in the paper.
"God, Michelle. You really did shut down when Jesse left, didn't you?" Sensing my growing uneasiness, he relaxes, and I watch his lips moving as he begins to weave a story about that night. "Danny and his family were returning home from Easter dinner at the country club when he lost control of the car and slid into an embankment. The cops that responded to the accident asked him to consent to a breathalyzer test, but he refused. When an officer got confirmation from several of the wait staff at the country club that he had had several glasses of scotch, they obtained a court order to conduct a blood alcohol level test. The results showed that he was not legally drunk, but rumor has it that he had the test results doctored."
Turning away from him, I push the tips of my index fingers into the corners of my eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. "That's ludicrous," I manage to whisper. "I don't believe a word of it. Danny's family is the most important thing to him. He'd never be so careless as to put them in danger like that."
I feel the mattress sag and then bounce back up, accommodating the change in weight as Bill moves to stand in front of me. "Hey... I'm only the messenger. I just thought you should know. It's not as implausible as you might think, you know? He's a very powerful man with very many connections in this town."
Grasping his hands in mine, I insist, "Well, I refuse to believe what is nothing more than some unsubstantiated rumor." Forcing the thought from my mind, I stifle a yawn, saying, "Come on... let's get you settled. I really would like to rest for a bit."
Letting him help me to my feet as he slings his bag over one shoulder, I follow him out of the room, pausing briefly outside of abuela's door when I hear Danny's voice inside. I feel compelled to listen, but Bill turns from the opposite end of the hallway to see what is taking me so long, and I take huge strides to catch up with him. I lead him outside to the empty guest house directly behind Olga's, showing him where the fresh towels and extra pillows are before I leave.
Extinguishing the tiny bit of guilt that flames within me, I tiptoe back into the house and down the long corridor, stopping in front of abuela's door. Pressing my ear against it, I draw in a deep breath and hold it while I listen. Danny's voice is muffled, but my ears perk when I hear the name 'Bill'.
I hear abuela's voice loud and clear then as she gushes, "Oh Daniel... isn't he a wonderful young man? So sweet and charming. Look what he brought me this morning." There is a brief pause and I know that she is showing Danny the bouquet of flowers that Bill brought for her. Cupping my hand over my mouth, I hold back the laughter that threatens to slip between my fingers when I hear him grunt primitively. "I think he is perfect for our Michelle, don't you Daniel?"
Hearing Danny's footsteps approaching the door, I run into my own room as quickly as my legs will carry me, quietly easing the door shut behind me. Flinging my body onto the bed, I bury my face in the pillow, whispering to myself, "The flowers were a perfect touch, Bill. Thank you for being such a fine southern gentleman." I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. One day, I promise myself, I will tell Bill that he was a pawn in my game. But for now, what he doesn't know... won't hurt him.
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