Chapter Two
Luz had hidden her feelings and her fear since childhood, so continuing to walk down the beach like she hadn’t just been slayed by the best and worst part of her past was natural. She pretended she was back catalog modeling and working the local designer shows, letting her legs move, long and fluid, and her hips sway, but by the time she crossed under the pier to the other side and fished through her Louis Vuitton weekender bag, she was shaking so badly she could barely slip on her favorite black pair of Lululemon yoga pants.
She had to force herself to take deep breaths as she pulled her black tank over her head. With slow, deliberate movements, she wound her grey cashmere scarf loosely around her neck. And slipped her feet into her sparkly silver flip flops.
Lane was here. San Clemente. On the beach. She’d been working up the courage to find her sister, Paz, who still lived in their childhood town, but it hadn’t occurred to her she’d come face to face with Lane within half an hour of hitting town. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been cuffed and stuffed into the back seat of a patrol car. She’d been the one to call the cops.
It was hard to imagine, but he was even more deadly handsome than he’d been as a teen. Then he’d exuded sexuality like oxygen. Now his sex appeal was more like a hydrogen bomb. He’d been hers for two years, and she could still remember how his deep blue eyes would darken almost to black when he’d be looking at her and start thinking about sex, which had been nearly all the time. Even after two years, that look would melt her body into liquid need, and she’d be as desperate as he was to get clothes off.
And she’d experienced the same reaction today. Her legs still felt weak, shaky. Her pulse had kicked up in places she’d forgotten existed, and her body, chilled from her swim had fired up like she’d jumped on a grill.
“Twelve years.” She reminded herself and was amazed that she still felt an electrical current where her blood usually ran sluggish and cold.
He’d made her feel alive and cherished like nothing else had in her entire life, marriage included. Her body still tingled even though she’d felt dead inside for the past three years. Alex had long ago lost interest in her body, and when she’d wanted to try for a baby he had called duty sex “more tedious than watching congressional hearings on C-SPAN.”
Luz crossed her arms tightly around her body as if trying to stuff all her fired up nerve endings back into place, then she finger combed her hair and pressed her palms to her cheeks.
Her first impulse had been to run when she saw him. Too much history. Too much emotion. Too much sorrow. But those feelings were at least feelings. They were real. And she had promised herself she was done with numb. And done with fear.
She’d thought, too, she was done with sexual desire, but apparently not. She could feel moisture pooling low in her core, and she nearly laughed. She was still alive. She was still a woman. She wasn’t too old or too dried up or too infertile to at least have feelings. Even if no man ever wanted her again, she still had feelings.
Not that she could do anything with those feelings. She was here to reunite with her sister. To make a new life for herself. And to wait Alex out because he hadn’t responded to any of her calls or emails or certified letters, and she couldn’t find an attorney in California willing to represent her divorce case since Alex was the state attorney general.
So now what?
Luz glanced up and down the beach. A few children still played near the surf. Couples held hands and walked. She had her sister Paz’s cell phone number, but they hadn’t talked much in years and when they had, Paz had been prickly and short. And she’d let her be. It had been easier since Paz despised Alex and he had called her sister a “hippy whore.”
Luz scanned the beach again and told herself she was looking for her sister, not Lane.
Priorities.
Right. She and her needs would come first now. She didn’t have Alex and his overbearing family to please, although the last time she had pleased herself she’d allowed herself to go out on one date with Lane Duke because he’d been so beautiful and persuasive and sexy. His confidence and adoration had been like a drug. He’d made her feel so fascinating and happy, but she’d fallen so head over heels in love she’d been terrified. Overwhelmed.
So here she was, determined to please herself, home in San Clemente, jobless, husbandless. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Paz she was coming. She’d driven down a day after surgery and even though Dr. Janssen had told her to avoid swimming for several weeks, the ocean had been irresistible. The salt probably killed a lot of stuff, she’d reasoned. It sure stung the twin crescent scars near her nipples.
She had her antibiotics, although those were making her sick. She’d thrown up the pill this morning but promised herself she’d double up tonight. Besides, she had tea tree oil. She’d be fine.
Luz slid the straps of her Hermes Blue Jean Birkin bag over her shoulder, and then leaned down to pick up her weekender Louis Vuitton. Her breasts felt so strange, alien, and she hadn’t forced herself to touch them yet. Plus they hurt more than she’d imagined, but she knew from experience the pain would pass, although this was the first time she was not taking the prescription pain meds. She was going cold turkey on it all. Her marriage. Her life. Her career. Her “medicine.”
Luz looked at the small, carefully folded clothes in her weekender bag. At the time, leaving everything behind except a few essentials that hadn’t been sanctioned by Alex or his mother had seemed like an emancipation declaration, but hardly practical to reboot her life with one little black dress, a pair of jeans, a few soft, off the shoulder t-shirts, a wrap maxi skirt, a couple of cashmere sweaters, and a Chanel jacket she’d bought at a thrift store on Melrose when she’d been in college.
She would definitely need more. She’d need a place to stay. She’d need a job. She’d need…she took a deep breath. One thing at a time. Maybe she’d take a walk along del Mar Avenue, get a feel for the town, grab a chai tea, and truthfully gather up a little courage before calling her sister.
Seeing Lane had shaken her more than she cared to admit. Not because she hadn’t liked seeing him, but because she had. A lot. And she shouldn’t. She was done with Dukes. Definitely. And done with men until she figured out why she’d gone so spectacularly wrong twice when she’d been so sure she’d been right.
She brushed by lots of people out for a predinner stroll. The town had the same vibe. A little more upscale perhaps, but she’d become far too used to that. Many of the shops were different. The rent must be astronomical in the main part of the town with so many tourists visiting. She grabbed a chai from the corner Starbucks and then crossed the street to head down the other side of Del Mar. Small, quaint storefronts, Spanish hacienda themed. She remembered looking in the windows of shops as a child, always wanting to go inside but knowing she couldn’t afford anything there.
Lots of beach clothes and surf shops now. Of course, she smiled. San Clemente might be a bit of a small town still, sixty-five thousand people, but it was an epicenter for surfing and surf culture. Famous board designers called it home, one of the biggest surf magazines had a San C address, two globetrotting surf photographers lived and surfed and shot here when they weren’t covering competitions. Growing up, Luz had never surfed. They hadn’t had the money for leisure activities, and she hadn’t had any leisure time between watching her sisters and a neighbor girl, Mia Santos, studying, and working weekends at a local fro-yo shop.
When she’d gone to college on scholarship, her work ethic was too ingrained for her to enjoy any of the So Cal lifestyle because she was too terrified to lose her grants or get passed up for an internship by someone more connected, smarter, or more focused, but Lane had entered her life like a comet and swept her up in his golden trail, introducing her to fun—fine dining, bonfires on the beach, combing art galleries, hiking Malibu canyons, and surfing.
Lane had been such a good teacher. His hands so strong and steady, never sliding too high towards her breasts or too low on her hips while he helped her on the board, holding it steady, his voice warm and low in her ear while he coached her, his blue eyes intense and warm with approval as he watched her, his lips so close that all she would have had to do would have been to lean in so she could taste him, but she’d wanted him to make the first move as much as she hadn’t wanted him to. He’d been three years younger than she had been. And that had embarrassed her. He’d still been in high school when he’d first started his pursuit. And the pursuit had been…she found herself smiling at the memory…epic.
He’d been so gorgeous. HOT. Confident, but not cocky. And he’d been sweet. Funny. Smart. Polite. Attentive. Creative. He’d been so comfortable in his skin. So knowledgeable about food and places and books and ideas. He’d taken her to so many restaurants, books stores, concerts, shows. He’d charmed and amused her. And he’d listened. That had been the most devastating breech of her defensives because, when she had finally shared more about her life and her dreams, he had sat across from her, holding her hand, stroking it lightly and that unnervingly beautiful intense gaze of his had been fixed on her face, encouraging her to talk and open up like she’d been a flower.
Funny, thinking of Lane had caused her so much pain for so many years. And then, when she’d married Alex, his older brother, she’d tried not to think about Lane at all. It had seemed wrong. Unfaithful. Because the comparison never favored Alex. But tonight, she didn’t feel the icicle stab of regret and sorrow. It was almost like seeing him had broken the spell of pain and let her remember the good times.
Luz swallowed hard. Okay, so the ghosts of her past weren’t going to be exorcised easily, but she was here to try. And she was giving herself six months. A year tops. Repair her relationship with Paz. Try to find out some information about her youngest sister, Isla, and learn to live with her emotions, manage her fear, and figure out who she was going to be once she was no longer Alexander Payton Duke’s newscaster wife.
She paused in front of a store with brightly patterned, summery dresses and some super sexy bikinis artistically arranged. Alex would have hated this shop. He would have hated these clothes. Too bright. Too many patterns. His face would have pinched like they smelled. He probably would have even whispered “slutty,” and he definitely would have said they were cheap and so not her demographic.
Luz walked inside.
“Hi, welcome. I’ll just be a sec.” Someone called out from the back of the store.
Luz looked around, overwhelmed. It was almost as if her eyes couldn’t sort through the visuals to send the appropriate signals to her brain. She’d only shopped by appointment in exclusive designer stores for years, and often designers would bring samples to the house. She hadn’t seen this many styles together in…she didn’t even know how long.
“Luz? Is that you, for real?”
“Mia.” Luz was pleased to finally recognize someone from childhood.
“Wow! No way. You cut your hair.”
Luz stopped walking forward. She touched the red, razored ends self-consciously.
“No, I so totally love it. It’s sophisticated and punk at the same time.”
Luz pressed her lips together. Had that been what she’d been trying for?
Mia put down the clothes she was putting away and hurried forward and before Luz could react or brace herself, Mia hugged her hard, both arms wrapped around her shoulders.
Luz forced herself not to wince even though her chest felt like she’d been slammed by a board instead of hugged by a slim woman whom she’d often babysat after school so many years ago. She sucked in a breath and hugged Mia back.
“You look so beautiful.” Luz broke the hug. “And happy.”
“I am,” Mia said, and her skin grew even more luminous as her smile widened. “Everything’s good. Really good. You visiting Paz? She never said anything.”
Luz nodded, held on to her smile. That was what she’d be doing. Eventually. Paz just didn’t know it yet.
“That girl.” Mia shook her dark hair. “She’s so secretive. She was in here earlier to grab some bikinis and wraps for her shoot, but she wouldn’t tell me what she was up to. Oh, is that why you are here? To help with her documentary?”
The documentary was news, and Luz supposed that being a TV morning news anchor, or rather a former anchor, might seem to correspond to helping on a documentary. An idea began to form. Maybe she could help. Knowing her sister, who hosted a local cable show “Eyes on San Clemente” or something like that, she’d bitten off way more than she could chew.
“I hope to,” Luz said almost honestly. She would if Paz would let her.
“She needs the help,” Mia said. “She did get a couple of grants, but it’s becoming a pretty big project and kids are enthusiastic but…”
Kids. Luz felt like an icy cape had been thrown over her. Paz couldn’t be working with kids. Kids were un-Paz-like, but Luz didn’t really know her sister anymore. But she did know that she couldn’t help Paz work with kids. Kids would remind her of what she couldn’t have. Of the chance she’d tossed away so many years ago, and now every time she thought about never having a baby, she felt like she slammed into a concrete wall.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” Luz lied.
“Hey, want a glass of wine? It’s so good to see you. Stay for a bit. Look around.”
“What?” Luz tried to drag her memory back from the fertility clinics.
The failure. The tears and wrenching heartache. The disapproval of Alex when she’d failed over and over. After her second failure, he’d wanted to give up. He didn’t have “time for this,” and “crying makes you look repulsive. Do you want to advertise your defects?” He’d dismissed her sorrow and hopes.
And she’d let him.
“Did you say wine?” Luz forced her mouth to move. She’d thought she’d heard wine. Yes, please.
“Red or white?”
“Both.”
Mia laughed. Luz hadn’t been joking. She wasn’t taking the pain pills because she wanted to feel, but she was starting to feel too much, and one glass of wine might take a bit of the edge off. Maybe she should have cut back on the Xanax instead of burying the bottle in the back yard next to a fig tree she had prematurely planted in honor of the baby she thought she and Alex would have.
Again the Garbage song “Stupid Girl”, but Luz forced herself to focus on the moment, easier now that Mia had handed her a glass of red wine.
She’d been served champagne in quite a few designer boutiques, but this was a welcome surprise.
“Your boss doesn’t mind?” she asked, noticing Mia cracking a beer.
“She says definitely yes when friends come into town unexpectedly.”
“Congratulations,” Luz said realizing Mia had her own store.
She looked around. She should buy something. Her very limited wardrobe definitely needed a boost.
“Is…ah…Alex here?” Mia looked toward the large front window of the store, but it was nearly dark outside now so they couldn’t see anything but their reflections.
God, she was practically gulping the wine. Alex would flip. Luz took another big swallow. She didn’t need to consider his feelings ever again.
“No,” she finally said and wondered what Mia would say if Luz told her exactly how she had left things with Alex.
“This is like a celebration.” Mia poured more wine and clinked her bottle against Luz’s wine glass.
“You’ve no idea,” Luz said, realizing she was acting weirdly, but a bit uncertain what she should be doing or feeling. She felt unmoored without Alex holding her elbow and hissing in her ear.
Had it really been that long since she’d been out on her own? Maybe she should have checked herself in somewhere. No. That was Alex talking. She could drink a glass of wine with a friend without worrying how she should or shouldn’t act. Another sip and a smile.
“I think I need some clothes,” she said into the awkward silence.
“Really?” Mia didn’t bother to hide her astonishment.
“Yes, I didn’t bring much with me this trip,” she said casually as if she brought suitcases full of clothing during other trips, but Mia probably knew that Luz hadn’t come home since her marriage. She nodded toward her Louis Vuitton bag that she’d set down by her feet.
“This is it,” she said, ignoring Mia’s round eyes. “And I hope to stay for a while.”
“Okay.” Mia flipped her hair behind her shoulders and looked around her store. “I’ve seen lots of news clips of you. Are those types of clothes your style?”
“Not really,” Luz said. “What do you suggest?” Luz parried suddenly, depressingly aware that she didn’t really know what she liked.
The station had chosen her work clothes. The stylist Alex had hired had chosen her public clothes for charity luncheons, galas, political and society events. She and her mother-in-law had often gone shopping, and Adeline Duke had done most of the talking, all of the advising and choosing there as well. The only clothes where Luz had been on her own had been her workout clothes, but even then, Alex and her trainer had weighed in.
Hence the small bag and even smaller wardrobe.
She turned a circle, pretending to look. “I wear a lot of black,” she said not seeing any black in her range of vision.
“Why would you do that?” Mia said. “Yes, you’re a winter, but with your dramatic coloring, figure and with your rockin’ hairstyle, you should really edge it up with color and style.”
Luz was pretty sure that the word rockin’ and anything related to her had never once been used in the same sentence before. Oh, wait. Lane had told her many times that she had a “rockin’” body, when she’d finally let him see it, and that she “rocked his world,” and why was she remembering this now? She needed to slow down on the wine and not think about Lane.
Except she did. A vision of him, long and lean, abs, chest, arm, and leg muscles hewn out of granite was burned into her brain. And he still had those gorgeous angel curls that she’d loved to bury her face and her fingers in. He was a total package. And that made her think of….
“What?” Luz realized Mia had said something, and was now staring at her a little strangely.
She almost blurted out that she’d seen Lane, but managed to stop herself.
“What do you have to work with?” Mia asked.
Again Lane flamed into her vision.
“Clean slate.” Luz scrunched her eyes closed as if that would help. “Dresses,” she said. “I usually wear dresses, and I’m more a solids girl,” she said apologetically. “So maybe I should try something totally different?” She tried to sound enthusiastic.
Mia looked at her. Really looked at her. Luz forced herself not to fidget. Or suck down the rest of the wine. Her idea of cleansing her system surely should apply to alcohol as well, although she rarely drank.
“I have some styles I just ordered that you will kill,” Mia said slowly. “But not in your wheelhouse, but trust me on this, okay?”
She went behind her counter and pulled out a brown box that was already opened but not unpacked.
“I haven’t even checked most of these items in yet on my inventory program, and some of them are samples from a local designer still in school, but I got a feeling you are looking to make some changes in your life if your hair is anything to go by.”
Luz barely managed to avoid touching her hair again. She’d done a hack job, and then had gone to a random hair salon in Laguna Beach because she was too chicken to go straight to San Clemente. A girl named Chelsea Rae had fixed the cut and added the red color to the tips.
“These clothes will add some spice and kick-start your inner bad ass,” Mia said.
Luz knew she was supposed to laugh. Instead, tears pricked her eyes. She took the clothes without looking and headed to a back dressing room.
She didn’t feel like she had an inner bad ass, but the yellow, stretchy lace dress and red lace, wrap dress were definitely formfitting and subtly sexy and youthful and yes, even a touch elegant. The turquoise flared lace pants and matching crop shirt were a bit too much for her. Gorgeous. The color reminded her of Greece, but no way could she pull this off. She was too…what? She didn’t even know.
She heard the murmur of voices.
“Mia?” She called out wondering where the buttons on the shirt were.
She saw Mia stretching up on tip toes to kiss a man, who looked a bit familiar.
“Hey. See, you look great.” Mia pulled apart from the man, but linked her fingers through his. “Do you remember Con? Heath Connelly.”
“Yes, of course,” Luz clutched her shirt closed.
The man was a war hero and she was practically flashing him in front of his girlfriend. “Don’t act like your slutty mom and sister.” She could practically hear Alex bark sarcastically in her ear.
“Um, buttons?”
“No, it laces.” Mia casually reached inside the jacket-style shirt and looped the leather laces through the inner grommets.
“Gorgeous,” she said. “You are so slim and toned. You totally carry it off. Let me get a pic for my store Facebook and Instagram and for the designer. She’ll adore it.”
Before Luz could even formulate a reply because she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Mia was shooting some pics and even inserting herself in the selfies.
“Luz, haven’t seen you in forever. How’s it going?” Con asked walking up behind Mia and wrapping both arms around her waist.
“Great.”
Not great. Suddenly she wanted to get out of here. Away from all the color and promise and love and sex that was now pervading the air.
“What do I owe you?”
“I don’t know,” Mia said. “You look so fantastic, I feel like I should be paying you. Totally free advertisement.” She snapped her fingers. “This works. You used to model. You’ll be shooting with Paz, probably doing interviews all over town. And I know Paz is planning to cover all the upcoming surf competition. If I give you some info on the designer and the store…” She scrolled through her phone.
“I have to pay you.” Luz was adamant.
Although she wasn’t broke, she had been fired only they’d called it reassigned, and she’d left her entire life back in the Bay Area. She’d hocked her engagement ring, eternity band, tennis bracelet, and matching diamond choker and earrings. She’d charged the surgery before Alex could realize what had happened, and while she’d intended it to be the beginning of her new life, there was poetic justice with him getting stuck with the tab to restore her to her more natural state.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Mia said. “The designers might even comp the clothes is you wear them on air. It will be great advertising.”
“I can’t even guarantee that I’ll appear in anything.” Luz’s heart shriveled at the thought.
She hadn’t even made contact with Paz. She could hardly say she’d wear them on air.
“I’ll pay,” she said.
“Okay,” Mia said after a pause. “But not tonight. I need to contact the designer and get the prices and enter the inventory codes on my computer, since my assistant Mari’s out for a couple of weeks visiting family.”
Luz folded the clothes in her weekend bag and tucked her rinsed out bikini into a mesh bag and slipped it into a side compartment. She still had plenty of room. She kept the turquoise pants and matching top on, even though she felt like a billboard, advertising something she most definitely wasn’t. Still, she wanted to start over. This outfit definitely announced she was her own woman.
“No tengo miedo,” she whispered under her breath wishing it were so. Willing it to be so.
“You’ll need a jacket or something.” Mia commented. “The early mornings are still chilly on the beach. Here…”
Mia dropped a hooded denim jacket with leather sleeves and a leather hoodie into the bag.
“Bit of an edge.”
“So me,” Luz said. But maybe it would be. “I’m paying for that.” Luz said. “And I’ll take that silver leather jacket for Paz as a welcome gift.”
“Cool. Paz will dig that,” Con said. “You can probably still catch her at Fisherman’s. She was jawing with Kadan and his girl.”
“She has a name.” Mia laughed and rang up the sale. “Hollis. Hollis Remington. You remember her? She and Kadan are engaged now.”
Luz’s heart bumped. She couldn’t think of Hollis without remembering her twin, Holland. And a desolated Paz. And then Lane. Everything came back to Lane.
She grabbed a few bandeau-style bras since she didn’t need the support anymore, and they might be easier on her breasts and then, just for kicks, she added some lacy panties and some racer-back lacy tanks.
“I’m going full girl,” she said. “I can pay for these now.” She waved the lacy items. “And the jackets.”
Mia added up the two jackets and the lingerie and when Luz saw the total she was tempted to use her card instead of cash, but she didn’t want Alex to know where she was, not that he probably cared anymore since the last time she’d seen him he’d had his face buried in one of his campaign intern’s…hmmm, what was the best term for that? And because it was Alex, he’d had the intern sprawled wide open on his wife’s writing desk, her blonde hair spilling over one of their wedding pictures.
Stupid Girl.
She’d never suspected him of cheating. He’d always been so fastidious. Busy. She still couldn’t quite reconcile the visual with the man. Or that he would be a cheater, yet something that flagrant was not a one-off.
Luz left the store, holding the silver leather, biker-style jacket in a bag festooned with lots of curly ribbon. She headed back down to the beach. It was never going to be easy to face her sister. Now would be the best time. Luz would have been prouder of her decision if she didn’t suspect her bravado was due to two generous pours of wine.