Monarch Beach (19 page)

Edward leaned close to my ear and whispered: “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Then he sat back and laughed.

I giggled and took another swig of my drink. One more Bacardi and Coke and I would try to have him against the wall in the phone booth. I don’t know what had come over me. I was like a call girl–pole dancer version of myself. Reluctantly, I remembered Stephanie’s words: “Make him wait.” I pushed my drink away and swallowed a handful of pistachios.

“We’re really busy at the restaurant. My partner put together a new ad campaign: ‘You buy a shrimp cocktail; we’ll buy your entrée. Restrictions will apply.’”

“That’s pretty clever,” I said. I could feel Edward’s eyes on my breasts. I looked down, and noticed my Michael Stars T was almost see-through. Even I could see the curve of my bra and the swell of my breasts beneath it.

“Sam is really bright. The entrée you get is either tuna salad or fish and chips. Both cost less than a shrimp cocktail. You should come down to the restaurant and keep me company.”

“You don’t need me, I’d get in the way.” I shook my head. Andre had never asked me to hang out at the restaurant.

“I’m serious. I have to work almost every night, I’d love to have you near me.” Edward’s hand kneaded the small of my back.

“What would I do?” I asked. In all the years Andre and I were married, I was welcome at La Petite Maison weekend mornings when I brought Max to help Andre bake bread, but it was strictly off-limits during operating hours. Andre said it wouldn’t be professional to have his wife around. I had agreed with him. My place was home with Max. I didn’t know his place was on the desk with Ursula.

“You could be my secret spy, just kind of linger beside each booth and see if the clients are happy. You know, do they like the soup, are they complaining the bread is stale. You could dress in a miniskirt and fishnet stockings like a Bond Girl.”

“I can’t quite see myself as a Bond Girl,” I laughed.

“Have the Bentley drop you off tomorrow night. I can give you a ride home after we close.” He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. I kissed him back, blocking out the other people at the bar.

“Okay,” I agreed. I promised myself I would wear my most conservative outfit. I would make him bring me home, to the St. Regis, without any stops. And I would not drink any alcohol. Somehow I had to quench the raging sex fiend that welled up inside me.

I flipped open my phone and checked the time. “It’s almost twelve, I better go.”

“Are you Cinderella?” Edward asked.

“According to my mother. She doesn’t think it’s ‘appropriate’ to stay out past midnight.”

“Well, leave me your slipper so I can keep it close to my heart.” He kissed me again.

“No way, these are Manolos. I guard them with my life.”

“Let me pay and I’ll walk you to the elevator. I’d escort you to the suite but I have a feeling your mother might be breathing fire.”

“She likes you. She just wants me to take it slow.” I got up from the stool and waited for Edward to pay the check.

“Parents, can’t argue with them when we are them. I’d say the same thing to Jessica.” He left the tip and took my hand.

We walked hand in hand through the lobby. We stopped in front of the clothes boutique and looked through the glass. “You should wear that to the restaurant,” Edward said as he pointed to a slit dress with a plunging neckline.

“I don’t think so,” I laughed.

He put his arm around me and we moved to the jewelry boutique. We admired the Rolex and Cartier and Patek Philippe watches.

“Good evening, Mr. Jonas.” A saleswoman came to greet us.

“Good evening, Louise. This is my friend Amanda Blick,” Edward introduced me. “I come here to get the battery replaced in my Rolex. It was my going-away present from the law firm.”

“Come inside and see our new displays. We have some lovely jewelry commissioned specially for the hotel.” The saleswoman smiled. The hotel never slept. The lounges, the restaurants, and the shops stayed open till the early hours of the morning.

I had been in the boutique with my mother. We had admired the diamond tennis bracelets, the cocktail rings set with semiprecious stones, and the rows of delicate gold chains. I felt a little awkward standing there with Edward, a few minutes before midnight, his hand resting on mine.

“I love those ads for Patek Philippe,” he said. “‘You’re not buying a watch, you’re just keeping it for the next generation.’ If you’re not buying it, why do you have to pay thirty thou?”

“Look at these, Mr. Jonas. They just came in.” The saleswoman put a tray of earrings in front of us. They were tiny gold butterflies, dusted with colored gems.

“Oh, those are pretty.” I picked one up.

“They’re monarch butterflies,” the saleswoman said. “Isn’t that clever. A local jeweler made them. They’re very popular.”

“My daughter is mad about earrings. On her fifteenth birthday she got double piercings. Her mother had to take her to the pediatrician who explained if she put any more holes in her ears they’d start leaking,” Edward chuckled.

“These are sweet.” I put it back on the tray.

“How about you, pierced ears?” Edward pushed back my hair so he could see my ears. His hand felt warm and sexy.

“Of course. My parents gave me pearls when I was sixteen, diamonds when I was twenty-one. My mother is very traditional.” I smoothed my hair.

“You have cute ears.” He leaned close to me; I could smell the rum on his breath.

I looked at a Cartier under the glass. “Oh my gosh, it’s twelve. I have to go. Thank you for inviting us in,” I said to the saleswoman.

“Anytime. Good night, Mr. Jonas.” Louise gave Edward a wide smile. I’m sure she was used to drunken couples pawing each other over her cases late at night. She probably thought we would sweep in and buy a handful of necklaces and bracelets.

“Good night, Amanda,” Edward said when we reached the elevator.

“Good night,” I replied. The elevator opened and I stepped inside, but Edward grabbed my hand and pulled me back. He gently pushed me against the wall and put his arms around me. He lifted my hair with his hands and kissed my ears, then he moved his hands down and held my breasts, stroking them through the thin fabric. He kissed my neck and my throat; he bit my lips and finally kissed my mouth. He tasted delicious, like salty beef coated with rum. I was so turned on I thought I would come through my True Religions.

“That’s a proper good night,” he said, releasing me.

“Very proper,” I said, smoothing my hair and straightening my shirt.

“You better go upstairs, Cinderella. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He kissed me on the nose and I got into the elevator. I opened the door to the suite quietly, praying my mother was asleep. I knew all she had to do was see me and smell the scent of sex on me to know I wasn’t taking it slow.

Chapter Seven

I spent the next morning watching Max surf, lunchtime listening to him talk about surfing, and the afternoon playing Scrabble Jr. and Clue with him at the pool. I wanted to prove to my mother and myself that my first priority was Max, but flashes of Edward pressing me against the wall kept appearing before my eyes.

My mother didn’t ask me any questions about last night’s date, but she looked at me quizzically when I declined a drink at cocktail hour.

“Why am I drinking alone tonight?” she asked when I brought a diet 7UP onto the deck at six p.m. Max was worn out from surfing, and was napping on the sofa in the living room.

“Edward asked me to help at the restaurant tonight,” I explained. I sat on the lounge chair in my St. Regis robe. I had spent the last hour showering and lathering myself with creams and lotion. I felt decadently relaxed and excited about the evening.

“Help out at the restaurant?” My mother eyed me suspiciously. “We know how Andre handled his female employees.”

“Edward is not remotely like Andre. He thought it would be fun for me to come and be sort of a hostess. He has to work every night and we wouldn’t see each other if I didn’t.”

“Is he paying you?” My mother refilled her martini glass.

“Of course not! I’m doing it for fun. I think it’s sweet that he asked me. Andre never wanted me near the restaurant.”

“What are you going to tell Max?” She smeared pâté on a piece of pumpernickel bread.

“That Edward needs an extra hand at the restaurant. I can even ask him to come with me if you want,” I said defiantly. But I didn’t want Max to come with me. I wanted Edward to have the chance to hold me and kiss me like he had last night.

“Max and I will watch television together, don’t worry about us. How are you getting there?”

“I’m going to have the Bentley drop me off and Edward said he’d bring me home,” I mumbled. I knew this would get a reaction.

“I guess you can’t get into too much trouble in a Mini.” She finished her pâté and swept the crumbs from her skirt.

“Ha, ha,” I answered. It was a switch to see my mother eat, while I was too nervous to swallow anything.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself and getting your mind off Andre. You can just be impulsive, Amanda. Remember how quickly you fell for Andre.”

“You fell for him, too!” I replied. “Remember the chocolates and gifts he brought you. You thought he was a cross between Clark Gable and Cary Grant. You were thrilled when he asked me to marry him.”

“That’s my point, we were both wrong.” She gave me that quiet, stern look she used to give me when I was a teenager and she wanted me to think about what I was doing.

“Point taken. Again,” I said grudgingly. “I’ll take it slow.”

*   *   *

I promised Edward I’d be there by eight p.m., which gave me an hour to throw half my closet onto the bed and put together an outfit that was conservative and comfortable, but could become sexy. I finally picked a simple Kate Spade dress, white and green stripes, with its own short green jacket. I paired it with a pair of Gucci pumps and tied my hair in a high ponytail with a green ribbon. My reflection in the mirror was professional and sophisticated. I imagined Edward taking off the jacket on the way home, unbuttoning the tiny green buttons of the dress’s bodice, and slipping his hand over my breast. I sprayed myself with Obsession, added extra mascara to my lashes, and grabbed my purse.

“I’ll be back later.” I kissed Max good-bye. “Go to bed when Grandma tells you.”

“She says I get to stay up and watch
Amazing Race
and
American Idol
with her,” Max said happily.

“What’s next, Mom?” I kissed her cheek. “
Dancing with the Stars
?”

“I’m on vacation,” my mother replied, “and I’m doing it for Max. If it was just me I’d be watching
Sixty Minutes
.”

“Sure, Mom. Have fun, you two.”

I sat in the Bentley, feeling like I was on an adventure. How did I, a Ross mom who was usually trying to get grass stains out of Max’s shirts at this time of night, end up sailing down PCH in a grand car, on my way to meet my almost-lover? The driver let me off at the corner; I didn’t think it would be a good idea to emerge from a Bentley in front of Laguna Beach Tackle. I opened the door to the restaurant as a crowd was moving inside. The front of the house was chaotic. People were squashed against one another waiting for a table.

Edward saw me and grabbed my hand. “You’re here in the nick of time. Sam’s promotion is working better than we expected. We’ve just sold our sixty-fifth shrimp cocktail and we’re out of tables. Maybe you can entertain these folks while they wait.”

“Entertain them how?” I looked around. The hostess from the other night gave me a cheery wave, and moved through the restaurant with a stack of menus and a party of large tourists.

“Striptease?” Edward winked at me. “Kidding. You could hand them menus while they wait. Would that be okay?”

“I’d love to.” I put my purse behind the counter and grabbed a pile of menus. I passed them out and stopped to answer questions. Gradually the hostess, who introduced herself as Gemma, led the diners back to tables and the crowd dispersed.

After half an hour, we finally found ourselves alone at the podium.

“Thank you so much for helping. They would have eaten me alive if you weren’t here.” Gemma smiled. Her hair was peroxide blond, the kind you only see in hair color commercials, and her eyes were blue with long lashes. She looked like a sexy version of Marcia from
The Brady Bunch
.

“It was fun. My almost-ex-husband owns a restaurant, so I’m pretty familiar. Have you worked here long?”

“Just for the summer. I go to USC, and my boyfriend is a summer lifeguard at Main Beach.” Gemma folded napkins as we talked.

“I see you two met.” Edward came up behind me and put his hand on my back. “Aren’t I lucky to have this beautiful woman helping us?” He smiled at me.

“It’s fun. I haven’t been doing anything but yoga for three weeks,” I said, and blushed.

“Gemma, maybe you could tell Amanda the specials so she has more ammo for the next rush of diners. I have to go shell some shrimp.” He rubbed my back and headed to the kitchen.

For the next hour I worked beside Gemma, keeping the flow moving. I liked the low buzz of excitement in the air, the clatter of forks and knives, the sound of corks popping, and the thud of plates heaped with seafood landing on tables. Every now and then Edward would catch my eye and wink, or give me one of his broad, crinkly smiles. When Gemma flipped the closed sign on the front door at ten p.m., my feet hurt but I felt pleasantly energized.

“I’m going to grab some fish and chips and go home.” Gemma neatly stacked the menus behind the counter. “Edward is really nice and lets me take leftovers for my boyfriend. He’s always starving.”

“That’s because he’s a linebacker at SMU,” Edward said as he came up next to me and draped his arm over my shoulder.

“He is, during the school year,” Gemma blushed, “but he’s hungry
all
the time.”

“My son is eight and he just took up surfing. He eats for an hour straight at night: grilled cheese sandwiches, burgers, pasta. Last night he ordered three entrées from the kids’ menu and ate them all,” I said, laughter in my voice.