Page 56 of Loving Smoke

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By the time the limo pulled up to the villa, the sun was rising over the Pacific. When I entered my bedroom I went out on my balcony hoping the peaceful sight and sound of the crashing waves would calm my wired nerves, but no such luck. Shivering I rubbed at my bare arms to ward off the misty breeze from the ocean.

My mind spun with what-ifs and different scenarios. I alternated between blaming myself, blaming my father, then blaming fate allowing me to be born into a family legacy of crime. In the end, I blamed Smoke most of all for being the one man I couldn’t resist, the one man who made me feel way too much. Exhaustion finally overcame me and after a shower I snuck under the covers and prayed for sleep.

What I experienced was fitful, disjointed dreams of Smoke, myself, and Manny. We were all struggling to keep our heads above the turbulent water of the Pacific until one giant wave pummeled us. A hand reached out to me, and as I clawed my way to the surface I stared into my mother’s face. Her lips moved with words drowned out by the crash of the surf. I struggled to hear her, but a second later she vanished.

I jolted awake breathless, drenched in sweat, with my heart beating double-time against my ribs. I forced myself to calm down rationalizing it was only a dream, but my mother’s touch was so eerily real. Like she had a message or warning just out of my reach.

The dream haunted me, but I must’ve drifted off again, because when I woke sharp streams of light filtered through the blinds. I rubbed at my eyes and flipped up my phone. Just a little after noon, yet I felt like I hadn’t slept at all.

The missed messages from Smoke popped up on my phone. In my exhaustion, I’d forgotten to text him, and now I didn’t have the words I’m sure he wanted to hear. I had to sort all this out in my own mind and confront my father even if it meant breaking my promise to Smoke.

I threw on a tank top and boxer shorts, then left my room. The silence of the villa was another reminder of my mother’s absence. When she was alive, vibrant Brazilian music filled the cavernous rooms with joy. She’d explained to me how this music came from a rich history of Portuguese and Indian cultures, and as a little girl it was a part of her everyday life. A heritage she loved sharing with me.

I’d sit and listen to her recount her life in Brazil and how she met my father in a Brazilian nightclub. Her stories always had a touch of mystery as she wove her own excitement around the words. She was very young when she met him and I assumed she fell for his striking good looks and the charismatic side of his personality.

Although she never voiced her disappointment to Manny or I, as I grew older I saw my mother differently. She always put on a good front for us, but the sparkle had left her eyes. Living with the truth of my father’s business couldn’t have been easy and perhaps she felt trapped in the only life she’d ever known.

I wandered outside hoping the warmth of the sun would somehow calm my restlessness and remove the inner chill from my disturbing nightmare. Thinking of my mother left so many questions and doubt. It was much easier when I had the Royal Bastards to blame, but now my turbulent feelings for Smoke left me edgy. I wanted to believe he wasn’t responsible for my mother’s death, but he could easily be playing me just as I played him. An outlaw biker would be a master of deception and far more duplicitous. He could’ve also used my weakness for him, then wielded sex as a weapon against me. The doubt of Smoke’s possible deceit tightened the muscles in my neck to the point of pain.

As I rounded the pool cabana, I spied Manny relaxing in one of the lounge chairs. How I envied his laid-back attitude. He missed and grieved for our mother but he seemed to take it all in stride. Of course, the aid of weed and alcohol helped but still . . . I didn’t think there was enough alcohol in the Baja Coast to relieve my constant anxiety.

“Hey, Sis.” Manny propped his perfectly tanned body up on his elbows. His handsome face breaking into a smile. “Gonna join me?” He motioned to the lounger next to him and I tentatively perched on the edge.

A few months ago, I couldn’t even come out here without a full-blown panic attack. So severe it would leave me gasping like I was sucking air out of a straw. With therapy I’d overcome the overt reaction, but my heart still thumped harder at the sight of the pool area.

Manny offered me a beer from the cooler next to his chaise, but I waved it away. The knot in my stomach tightened and beer would only make it worse.

“I envy you.” I hadn’t planned on saying it, but the words just spilled out.

“Really?” He pushed up higher to a sitting position. “Even though you’re the golden child?”

“Maybe that’s why.”

Manny huffed out a rough laugh, then swigged at his beer. “I still can’t figure out why you ever came back. You were the smart one. You had the chance to escape and leave all this behind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Graduating with honors from Stanford. A fabulous apartment, auditions lined up in Hollywood. You could’ve gone anywhere, been anything, but instead you came back here to do his bidding.”

“And what about you with an accounting degree from the University of Miami? You even passed your CPA and yet you spend your days poolside.” I tempered my words leaving out the part about him drinking at noon most days. “I think we both know why we came home.”

“It’s funny you hate coming out here after . . . what happened, and somehow I feel closer to her here.” Manny laid down his beer. “Fucked up, but true.”

“Just different ways of handling a horrific situation.” I’d begged Manny to seek counseling, but he refused, playing the macho card when in reality I suspected he was afraid of his own pain.

“And I also know you made a huge fuckin’ mistake setting yourself up to be used by the master manipulator.” He waved his beer toward the house. “Do you really think he gives a shit about you, or what you want?”

“I don’t know.” I couldn’t analyze my relationship with my father now with everything else going on. Him and Manny had a strained relationship even when my mother was alive, so of course, it only got worse when she died.

“He’s just using you, but you’re so desperate for his attention you fell for it.”

“You’re wrong. It was my idea to help him take down the Royal Bastards.”

“No, he made you think it was your idea. It’s what he does. He plants a seed, and then watches it grow. It’s the same way he orchestrates and manipulates everyone around him, everyone who works for him.” Manny spread his arms wide. “I mean, how the fuck do you think he got all this, by being a nice guy?” He twisted his lips. “He’s a ruthless, vicious bastard who would kill his own to get what he wants.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say. I have no illusions about our father, or what he’s capable of, but in his own way he loves us and he loved Mom.”

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