Without limits ssion and.., p.64
Without Limits: A BWWM Collection of Passion and Desire, page 64
I wouldn’t be back home in California for long. I decided as long as I was here, I might as well drop in on my mother. She’s not a person who likes surprises, so I called to make sure it was a good time.
The house I grew up in seemed like a foreign place to me. More specifically, it was like a familiar lady dressed in different clothes and with a new hair color each time I see her. My mother is a realtor, and she toys with the idea of going into interior design. Why she hasn’t ever really done it, I’ll never know. Maybe it was because our house was always ground zero for her experiments. Unlike working with clients, there was never a deadline when it came to completion of her masterpiece, and as soon as she was fully through with one renovation she was ready for another. Any trappings from my childhood had long ago been stripped away and replaced several times over.
I smiled as I walked up the front steps. Lately, my mother was experiencing a phase where she loved anything from or inspired by the Far East. On either side of the door was an assortment of small Buddha figures, including one that overlooked a miniature fountain. I heard the gentle tinkle of chimes from one of the eaves of the house.
I rang the doorbell and my mother appeared.
She wore a pair of dark slacks and a flowing caftan—her idea of casual wear for around the house. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, swept up into curls in the front and a ponytail in the back.
“Come here you,” she pulled me into her arms. “I was so surprised to hear you were in town. How long will you be here, baby?”
I stumbled across the threshold, enveloped in her perfume. I smiled. “Seven days at the most, maybe a couple less than that depending on how things go. I’m on assignment.”
“Well, come in the kitchen, that’s where I am,” she said.
I didn’t even comment on the changes she made once we got there. It was French countryside, decorated in white and lemon yellow. Though I wanted to compliment her for it, I knew that compliments could be taken as jabs once she decided on a new design. I took a seat at the island and watched as she chopped vegetables.
“Smells delicious. What are you making?”
“Soup,” she said. “Do you believe your Aunt Maggie has gotten herself sick again? I swear she get the cold every other month lately. Not everyone has the strong constitution we do, but I keep telling the woman she needs to take better care of herself.”
I nodded. I didn’t necessarily agree. Shit, people got sick some time. It wasn’t always a matter of not taking care of yourself. My aunt was an elementary school teacher, so it was no wonder she caught at several colds a year.
Maggie is my mother’s favorite of her four sisters, most likely because she was the kind of person who was quiet and didn’t say anything against my mother’s sometimes grandiose pronouncements. She had a more off again/on again relationship with her other siblings, who as she liked to say, couldn’t deal with her strong personality.
Soup was a good sign though. It meant she and Maggie were getting along. Cooking for people was also my mom’s way of showing love. It says a lot about her that she doesn’t cook often and then doles it out to very few people.
“Exactly what kind of assignment are you on?” she asked while she chopped.
“Interviewing a musician.”
She paused to reach across the counter for a bell pepper. “You know, I had such hopes that you would get a more, stable job...”
“Mom, I have a stable job, I’m paid well.”
She went on, not paying attention to me, but chopping with frightening speed.
“Your father and I, paid and sacrificed a lot for your education. I would think you could at least get a job working at a reputable newspaper instead of a magazine. The Times or The Post, something of that caliber.”
“Mom…”
“Who is it you’re interviewing anyway?”
This was a question I had intended to avoid. With my mother’s general dislike of my profession, it wasn’t something she would usually ask. For a moment, I considered lying to her. In less than five minutes, this whole visit had gone wrong. There was no use in trying to appease her.
“Lucas Pierce.”
“Lucas?” she made a face, as if the name brought a bitter taste to her mouth.
“Yes. He’s left his band and is starting out as a solo artist.”
Mom waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, I heard that whole spiel from him. I sold him that house he just moved into, got him an excellent deal. Apparently he’s built up some investments because he couldn’t have that kind of portfolio from being a singer. I see he still tries though.”
“Everyone can’t be like you,” I told her. I doubt she heard my sarcasm.
“They most certainly can’t,” she replied.
“How did you end up selling a house to him?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like that tone, little girl. Maybe I’m the only real estate agent he knows in the area. Some people can be very funny about working with someone they don’t know, and I could see why he might be. They get nervous about too many people knowing what kind of funds they’ve got available or how many properties they own. Or it could be it was just a way to look you up.”
“That was a long time ago, Mom,” I said.
“And so? You think I forgot how crazy that boy was for you? I remember. I told him how you work for a bigtime magazine,” she replied.
“A magazine you just finished dumping on.”
“Whatever,” she said. “He probably hasn’t read anything since high school, he wouldn’t know your magazine doesn’t have a following. These musicians, oh excuse me, artist types don’t bother with news. Unless they’re on the cover that month.”
“That’s a stereotype, and it’s not true in his case.”
“Well, if you have any ideas about him, I wouldn’t bother,” she took a handful of vegetables and dumped them in a boiling pot. “You know, he was bad for you back then, and probably would be worse for you now. I heard about what happened to his last girlfriend. You don’t want to associate with those kinds of people.”
“Mom, really? You can’t stand him but you thought it was appropriate to take his money, you found that perfectly alright?”
“Of course, because that’s business! You think he’s the first asshole to come asking for my help? I assure you he’s not. If I refused to take a sale based on whether or not my clients were decent people, I’d go bankrupt. He’s a pseudo-celebrity and that’s the best he’ll ever be. You are too easily impressed.”
“Mom. I didn’t come here to talk about work, I just thought it would be nice to see you since I’m in town. Can we please talk about something else?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting so hyper about, girl. All I did was ask you a simple question. If we’re talking about men from your past, what about Derrick? Whatever happened to him? Now that was a young man who showed real promise. He probably has his own law firm going by now.”
It was a good thing her back was to me when she mentioned him, so she didn’t see me recoil in disgust. Derrick was my college boyfriend. He was a nice guy but he wasn’t at all what I wanted. He was in law school when we met. Smart, studious, and charming, he could talk the ear off of anyone. He was a good looking man too. Thing was, we didn’t really have a spark; I didn’t have one for him. I was never able to really figure out why the physical attraction just didn’t seem to be there. Of all my lovers, he was the one who moved me the least.
It might have had something to do with the fact that Derrick was the cookie cutter image of what my parents wanted for me. Maybe I hadn’t given him a chance but there was nothing to be done about it.
‘That man had substance, a real future,” mom continued. “I can’t figure why you got rid of him. How’s he these days? Maybe you could look him up. If he’s single he might still like to see you.”
“You know what? Mom, I just remembered, I have someplace I’m supposed to be. I’ll catch up with you later.” I said. I turned and headed back towards the living room, picking up my purse on the way. Just before I made it out the door, I heard my mother’s steps. She followed me as far as the hallway.
“Well make sure you see me again before you go back to New York,” she yelled. “You better call me later. I wasn’t finished.”
“I will, Mom. Sorry.” I closed the door behind me and made my way to my car.
I couldn’t tell her that I was through with the discussion, and I knew I was going to hear about how rude I was later on. I just didn’t have the patience, and if I stayed I was certain I would end up saying something we’d both regret. There are some days when I could handle her but that day wasn’t meant to be one of them.
I sat in my car for a minute, going reviewing messages. There was one from Helene that I would return later. She wanted me to check in with her.
I wasn’t sure what to think about Luc looking my mother up. Those two had never gotten along. Luc was polite to her because he felt that he had to be; my mother was openly dismissive. There was no way that he went looking to use her as an agent just to be nice.
Choosing my magazine to give an exclusive to was one thing. Maybe Helene did happen to mention me and that could have been a coincidence. Luc reaching out to my mother wasn’t. For whatever reason, he wanted to reach out to me but not through obvious channels.
I did have other business to handle, so I got back to it. No one could say I completely lied to my mother.
Since I had reserved a few minutes to talk to Luc’s manager, I met with him at the rehearsal.
Kevin Olsen had been Luc’s manager for most of his career. He was a short man with curly brown hair and glasses. He looked more like an accountant than someone who soothed egos and organized tours and public appearances for musicians. I’d told him that I wanted him to discuss the new tour that would kick off two months after Luc’s performance at Alterna Rock.
“Luc is still getting used to playing without his groupmates from Hierarchy behind him, but we plan to make this performance something really big for him. He’s changing genres a bit so we’re excited to see just how his old fans---and new ones—will take this new direction,” Kevin said. It sounded like a pre-planned speech, put together for any press that might approach him.
We were in an empty dressing room, but the noise from sound check cut through the walls. While asking him all the technical questions about audience size, how many players there were in the backup band and what the new music was going to be like. Kevin was happy to answer those questions, and he knew the answers without having to refer to his phone or a laptop. It was the personal questions about his client that I couldn’t wait to ask him and those were the ones he didn’t seem keen on replying to.
“You want to know if he’s dating. He didn’t answer that himself?” Kevin asked. He scratched his chin.
“I can quote you as an anonymous source,” I replied coolly. “I mean, sure, I wouldn’t necessarily expect that he would be serious about anyone, after what happened with Skye. It would be good for me to at least say there were rumors of a new woman in his life. If it were true.”
Kevin grinned. “Yeah, good publicity, right? Honestly, between us, he’s so private that if there is anyone who he is seriously dating right now I wouldn’t know. When he was in the band, there was Skye, and after they broke up, there were flings… but you know, I never saw the same girl around more than once or twice. It’s the lifestyle.”
“Luc and Skye broke up? When was that? I thought they were still seeing each other when she died.”
Kevin sighed. “Off the record? I have probably already said too much and he’d be pissed if he knew but,” he leaned forward in his seat, lowering his voice. “He and Skye had been over for a while before she died. I’m sure they were on and off. Working together all the time, still being around each other, things were messy. Everyone falls back into bed with the ex. They had that kind of shit going. The rumors about her abusing drugs were true. He didn’t like it at all. Luc’s never been a choir boy but he realized it was getting to be a problem with her. It was the issue that tore them apart. Now if you’d excuse me?” he said, offering his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Sasha.”
After Kevin and I were done, I decided to go watch Luc. It had been years since I saw him perform, and never in a venue as large as this one. I picked a spot in the back, and slouched in the chair. There were a few others scattered around, most likely crew members on break or other reporters who had been invited to listen. I hoped that he didn’t see me. I enjoyed watching him get into the zone, so absorbed by the music that he didn’t appear to be aware of anything else.
He did four songs in a set before calling for a break. The musicians left, and he stood alone on stage. He took a sip from his bottle of water. Then he picked up his microphone and looked straight at me.
“Hey, Sasha. Want to see the stage?”
A few moments later, I was standing beside him, looking out at the empty seats. The open air amphitheater was empty except for a few crew members milling about. With the bird’s eye view from the stage, no wonder he had spotted me.
“How did it sound to you?” he asked.
“I liked all of them. The third song needs work. Something is off with the melody or the key it’s in. The last one you sang was the best of the four.”
He smiled. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Your opinion, without bullshit.”
“You get that a lot?”
He nodded. “Yes. Sure, I want people to like my music but I also want to catch mistakes before I just make an ass out of myself,” his eyes sparkled. For once, he sounded like the down to earth, silly guy I used to know.
“Anyway. How about lunch? I’m finished for the day, and it will give you time to pick my brain about… whatever you like.”
I offered to follow Luc to the restaurant, but he wouldn’t have it. I ended up riding in his car. Before we left, he donned a hat and sunglasses that he’d hidden in his glove compartment.
“Can’t leave home without a disguise,” he said lightly.
“Do you get tired of the notoriety?” I asked. “I don’t know how I would handle it. I like being able to blend into the background, you know? I get up at two in the morning to buy cereal sometimes, and come back to my apartment without anyone caring. I would miss that.”
“I do miss it,” he replied, keeping his eyes trained on traffic. “It’s part of the price you pay to live this life, with money, and people at your disposal to get what you want. There are ways you can get around the paparazzi but what’s difficult is that there are normal people who will call them on you to get a few hundred bucks. I can’t say I blame them. If I was broke maybe I’d do it to. That doesn’t make things any smoother for me though,” he paused a moment. “Have you completely become a New Yorker?” he asked, glancing at me. “Leaving the house in the wee hours of the morning for cereal?”
We both laughed.
“No,” I finally said. “There are days when I love it and others when I want to hop a plane to come home. I’ve never fully acclimated to the cold either but I keep telling myself that I will one day. I mean, I still love things about it. Like the fact that you literally can get up in the middle of the night and do anything. But yeah, sometimes I miss the slower pace.”
Luc smiled at that but didn’t say anything.
We went to Lowell’s—it was a five star hotel, known for its restaurant. It was much fancier spot than what I had in mind, but I was determined to let him take the lead on this. The more comfortable he was, the more likely I was to get information out of him. We might as well be in his favorite spot.
More than that, he seemed relaxed for the first time since I had arrived.
We were seated out on the patio, where there was a view of the ocean and Santa Monica Pier. After we ordered, I decided to ask him a question.
“What was up with you seeking out my mom?”
Luc put his napkin across his lap. “Oh, so you heard about that. I figured it wouldn’t take you very long,” he said. “What did she say about me? I’m used to it not being good.”
I shook my head. “Mom is so predictable. I didn’t really engage with her but she wanted to know if you’re the person I’m here to interview. Is there some reason you got in touch with her, instead of contacting me?”
He paused. “Sasha, you don’t make it easy to find you. I knew you had left California but I didn’t know where you moved to. It was either speak to your mom,” he shrugged. “Or hire a detective to find you. I would have done that too, but just asking her where you were and how you were doing seemed more normal.”
“You mean, less like a stalker?”
He shrugged. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time but I didn’t want to be invasive about it. You’ve got a right to your privacy.”
“So let me ask you then. You sought out my magazine because you hoped they would send me to interview you?”
“I figured the story would automatically go to the one staff writer who knows me,” he said. “When your boss showed up instead, I told her that I didn’t want to speak with anyone but you.”
“Why?”
He frowned. “Look. It’s not easy for me to admit how wrong I was, or that I wanted to see you again. I didn’t know how you would react. Maybe you wouldn’t want to see me. And in that case, then I had wasted my time and yours.”
“I wish you’d told me this before.”
“I do too,” he replied. “I wish that I’d had the confidence to tell you before that I regretted the way things ended between us.”
“What good does it do now?” I asked. I thought about the night we split, all the pain that I endured for weeks, months after. I promised I would never let anyone do that to me again. I never wanted to be foolish enough to fall for his kind words and sensuous touch.
