CHAPTER 14
HOWIE
Lacy bolts out of the living room and I’m left standing with the painter. Did he do what I think he just did? Did he make a pass at her?
“I won’t do it again Howie. I’m sorry, it’s just that, she’s so beautiful.”
I scowl at the man. What the hell is going on? There’s some weird vibes in the room, and I need to understand what’s happening. Besides, what right does he have to come in here and talk about Lacy’s beauty? That’s just not right. I understand he’s a painter and all, and he has to be engaged by the subject of his art, but goddamn. Something about Charlie Baker’s comments disturb me to my core.
And what the hell is going on with my girl? She ran out of the room like there was a bee in her bonnet. Lacy’s not like that usually. My female can get hot and bothered, but it’s generally in the bedroom, and not because of some comments from a seedy artist.
So I turn towards Charlie with a suspicious look.
“What the hell is your problem?” I grunt. Memories of when he was just a cadet run through my mind. I remember helping him tie his bootstraps in basic training. I remember him going from a little twerp from New Jersey to a full grown man with ripped muscles and an attitude.
The muscles were still there, but the attitude’s gone.
“You know what happened to me Howie,” he whispers with tears in his eyes. “You know more than anyone else in the world.”
That’s when we say it at the same time.
“Car Bomb. Afghanistan. 2007.”
He lifts up his smock and shows me the deep wound on his right forearm. I lift up my pant leg and show him the place where the metal almost sliced my leg off.
“She’s the only thing I ever cared about Howie,” says Charlie.
I’m dumbstruck. What are we talking about?
“I’m sorry, who?”
Charlie shakes his head.
“She’s the only thing that ever got me through the pain.” He looks like he’s going to cry.
I shoot him a confused look.
“Do you mean Lacy? You’ve only known each other for one day, so you’re over your head man. You didn’t know her back then. Goddamn Charlie, the war really fucked you up, didn’t it?” I pat him on the back. “Look, take a deep breath and calm down. Stay here while I go and get Lacy. We’ll work this out.”
But Lacy’s nowhere to be found. I check the Jungle Room, the rooftop, and even my study. But there’s no trace of the beautiful girl. Where the hell is my princess?
Charlie looks at me from the white leather couch when I re-enter the studio.
“I’m sorry,” I say formally. “I have no idea where she is right now. We’ll have to cancel today’s portrait session and continue some other time.”
Charlie’s silent for a moment before speaking.
“She’s probably at her Aunt Margaret’s,” he says.
I stop cold in my tracks.
“What did you just say?”
“She’s probably at Margaret’s,” he repeats again tiredly. Fuck. How much did Lacy tell Charlie about her life? This doesn’t make any sense.
But suddenly, the clouds part and I have a flash of insight. Holy shit, they know each other from before. Somehow my girl and this loser artist were entangled in some manner. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
“What the hell Charlie?”
“I’m just telling the truth. That’s where she always went when we had fights.”
“What the fuck Charlie. What the FUCK is going on here?”
“Nothing,” he shakes his head sadly. “I’m just a painter now.”
I hurl my fist at a lamp, which falls to the floor and breaks. I’m sorely tempted to punch the wall except that these walls have aluminum plate behind the woodwork.
“Are you two sleeping together? Tell me right now you mother fucker!”
“No.”
“Say it again! Did you put your cock in her mouth? Her pussy? You tell me.”
“No, we were waiting until marriage.”
That makes me even angrier, my temperature shooting through the roof.
“What the fuck Charlie! Don’t fuck with me!”
I’m fuming. I see my old squad mate sitting there in front of me, still as a rock. There’s no light in his eyes whatsoever. Fuck, I can’t think about this right now because all I can see in my mind’s eye is Lacy. Lacy is somewhere far from me. The pain shoots a knife through my heart. My heart is all hers.
Fuck, Charlie’s right anyway. She is probably at Margaret’s. I throw a glass cup on the marble and storm out of the living room. I’m on a mission now. I haven’t felt this much urgency since my days overseas. So without any hesitation, I hop into my Maserati and speed through New York City like the world was about to end. When I see Aunt Margaret’s apartment, I’m amazed. She’s had the whole front of it painted like a rainbow. There are whimsical flowers and animals dancing over the brick in a glorious mural. It should look awful, but it’s actually quite charming.
But I’m not in the mood for charming. I’m in the mood for answers.
I burst through the front doors, and run up the stairs as if my life depended on it. The air in my chest is tight, and I feel like I’m about to lose someone again. I’m transported back to that day when I carried my dead mother to the hospital on quaking knees. Before I enter Margaret’s flat, a prayer escapes my lips.
Please God. Don’t let it be too late this time.
I open the door. There, on the Victorian tapestry couch is Aunt Margaret, and she’s holding my Lacy in her arms. The blonde girl is crying, absolutely sobbing into her aunt’s breast.
“Lacy,” I say, my heart thumping like a drum. I come down next to her and kneel. I look up in Margaret’s eyes. She nods to me.
“Lacy baby. Tell me what’s wrong. Was it Charlie Baker? Did he scare you?”
“Howie darling,” says Margaret gently. “Charlie Baker is the man Lacy has been running from. That’s her ex-boyfriend.”
The words cut me like a thousand tiny knives. Oh my god.
“But- but- Lacy? Oh my god. It all makes sense. Lacy, how did he come into our home?”
Lacy heaves a sob onto her aunt’s velvet coated chest, and it’s Margaret who answers instead.
“Your butler hired him Howie. It’s nobody’s fault. It was an honest mistake. Lacy feels terrible about it.”
Lacy lifts up her eyes and meets mine.
“Baby, I would have never done anything to hurt you,” she mewls. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you before we left for Italy. I just thought we could sweep it under the rug. I never wanted to remember him ever again.”
“Lacy, oh my beautiful girl,” I murmur. I run my hand over her beautiful leg. “You didn’t have to be afraid of telling me the truth.”
But Lacy’s inconsolable.
“I lied to you,” she whispers, unable to meet my eyes. “I should have told you about Charlie when we did that first session, but I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry for not telling you right away.”
I frown for a moment.
“That was wrong,” I say smoothly. “I would have appreciated knowing but it’s no big deal, darling. Even Charlie told me that nothing’s happened between you two.”
“He did?” she raises her head, eyes wide and blinking. “He said that?”
I nod.
“Why, did you expect him to say something different?”
Slowly, Lacey nods.
“Yes. I thought that he’d make something up because back when we dated, Charlie was a different person. He used to make me feel worthless by saying things like “You need to lose weight,” or “You need to sex it up.” It was a bad time.”
My mouth immediately frowns when I hear any other man making comments about my woman’s looks, even if it was years ago. But I take a deep breath and get my bearings.
“It’s fine,” I say in a calm voice. “It was a long time ago, and I know you don’t feel anything for him now.”
“I don’t!” Lacy cries, flying into my arms now and burrowing her head against my chest. “Because I love you, Howard Bates. You’re the only man for me, and I was so afraid of losing you.”
Suddenly, I realize what a tough life Lacy has had. She’s had no real rock to depend on. Although her Aunt Margaret provides emotional support, the woman’s also somewhat ditzy, even in her old age. So Lacy’s never had anyone, and she was afraid that I was going to take off at the first sign of trouble as well.
But I’m not that man. Once you’ve been in a foxhole as a firefight rages up above, it takes more than a slovenly ex to scare me away. So I hold her tight, pressing my lips against that blonde head.
“I love you too Lacy. And I’ll never let you go, I promise.”
With those words, the blonde turns my way and smiles tremulously.
“Do you promise, Mr. Bates? Forever and ever?”
I nod solemnly.
“Absolutely sweetheart, because you’re my one and only.”
Because with that, our vows are said. The most meaningful words that we’ll ever speak take place while we’re crouched on the floor of her aunt’s apartment, and not in some fancy restaurant or ballroom. Instead, I know the value of the girl before me … because Lacy started as my maid, but now she’s the my world, my life, and my heart.