Skygods (Hydraulic #2) (45 page)

“Congratulations,” I said acidly.

Brunette actually winked at me. “Kaye and I go way back. I knew her husband seven years ago.”

Mr. Avant Garde froze, hand raised mid hair-slick. “Husband!”

Yeah, probably should have left an hour ago, before Fate had a chance to kick me in the teeth. “
Ex
-husband, thanks in part to your frisky friend here,” I muttered.

The brunette pointed to Samuel. “That guy over there.”

Avant Garde followed her finger, and his eyes bulged like a bullfrog’s. “Samuel Caulfield
Cabral?
Oh shit, you’re
that
Kaye?”

To my horror, Samuel swung around at the sound of his name. His eyes caught mine, silently questioning the panic in my face. He was at my side in a moment.

“Kaye, are you ready to…” And then he saw her. “You.”

She flashed neat Chiclet teeth. “Hey, Samuel.”

His arm crept around my waist, as if he would throw me behind him like a caveman if the woman so much as puckered her lips.

Mr. Avant Garde sputtered something terrible. His hands seemed to have unfrozen and dug paths through his gel-encrusted locks. “You’re her husband! Oh crap, I slept with Samuel Cabral’s wife. Please tell me you don’t have kids.”

I felt Samuel’s shock before I even dared to look at his face. He released me as if I’d burned him. We downright should have left an hour ago.

“For the love of all that’s holy,” I hissed desperately, “lower your voice! You’re not a home wrecker.”

“You fucked him?” Samuel’s voice was low and treacherous.

“Samuel,” I begged.

His face grew wild. He growled. Then, it was as if all the energy quit the vicinity and concentrated in his clenched fist. It surged forward and before I knew what happened, Samuel threw himself into Mr. Avant Garde, pummeling him into the ground.

“You fucking stay away from her,” he bellowed. “Don’t you ever touch her with your filthy fucking hands again, or I’ll hunt you down and break every bone in your body!”

Blood splattered across the black tiles and Samuel’s shirt as he landed a second blow to the writhing man’s face. People screamed, and I think one of them was me. I was vaguely aware of Justin and Patrick leaping forward and grasping Samuel’s biceps, pulling him away from his victim. Then Mr. Avant Garde, blood smeared over his nose and cheek, grasped the opportunity to attack and dived, shoulder-first into Samuel’s gut. He was a lot feistier than his Toulouse-Lautrec shirt implied. The sheer force sent all four men skidding across the polished black tiles and, as fate would have it, into that bubbly, ill-placed hot tub.

Cameras flashed. Party-goers gasped and chattered excitedly as bouncers shoved them to the side, yanking the sopping wet men from the tub. Somewhere behind me, above the roaring crowd, Jerome demanded to know what had happened.

“Get him out of here!” Patrick shouted at me. The minute Samuel crawled out of the water, I latched onto his hand.

“Good night Brunette, Avant Garde—sorry about the nose,” I called, scurrying past the hot tub mess.

“You can forget about coffee, Kaye!” he howled after me as I dragged Samuel through the crowds before Jerome could find us.

The moment we stepped into the elevator, I pounced. “What the—? You can’t just go around punching people out, Samuel! What if he wants to press charges?”

He gripped my arms like a vice. “You slept with that man!”

“Yes, a long time ago.” Never mind his brunette also put in an appearance. His eyes, inches from mine, burned with hurt and rage as water streamed around them. “He was Number One—friend of a friend. I told you about him in the cave, remember?”

“You were going to meet him for coffee,” he accused.

“No, I wasn’t. He helped me get a copy of
BrownStoners
. I was being polite, and I am so sorry you found out about it this way. Samuel, listen to me,” I said calmly, “you need to get a hold of your temper. Look at you, you’re dripping a lake in the elevator.” For someone who hated to be the center of attention, he certainly was, tonight.

His grip on my arms slackened, and the blood rushed back to my fingers. I clenched and unclenched them as they tingled.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “You could have told me.”

“I’m truly sorry for lying to you about contacting that guy. You have a tremendous jealous streak, Cabral. I didn’t want to risk it.”

“So who were you having coffee with Sunday morning?”

“Caroline. I wanted her advice on how to convince you to see a doctor.” I grabbed his shirttails and began to wring water from them.

“Don’t hide things from me, Kaye,” he snarled.

“Don’t be hypocritical, Samuel. Do you truly remember last night?”

He froze. “No. I don’t remember.”

“There was coke at the party. Have you been using again?”

“No! Quit with the fucking interrogation!”

The elevator doors opened and an older couple was poised to walk in. But one glimpse of Samuel, drenched and bloody, a towering psychopath in the corner, and they decided to catch the next one. When the doors slid shut, I watched with horror as his face crumpled. His hand shot up to shield his eyes from me.

I brushed sodden brown strands from his forehead. “Hey. Talk to me.”

“I’m…not in control. I terrified those people.”

“Well, babe, you’re soaking wet.” And a tad gory, but I somehow thought that wouldn’t help. “I’ll call your doctor right away and we’ll sort this out.”

I let Samuel into the hotel room where we’d stashed our things. Digging out his dry clothes, I placed them on the bed. He looked utterly lost as he wandered through the room.

“Goodness knows what was in that hot tub; I’d venture a mixture of piss and booze. You might want to take a shower. Just leave your wet things in there and I’ll have someone launder them.” I gestured to the spacious bathroom and he padded in, shoes squeaking, and shut the door.

I crashed onto the sofa. Kicking off my heels, I rubbed life into my sore feet. Not the worst night of my life, but close. With a sigh, I grabbed my phone and punched in the number for Samuel’s New York psychiatrist.

“Dr. Vanderbilt speaking. Ms. Trilby?” said a sleepy voice. Yes, a Vanderbilt. There was a reason he got the big bucks.

“I’ll pay you a small fortune to make a house call tonight.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

I gave him the address of the Standard Hotel, along with the room number. Then I sat. And waited. And freaked out.

Stupid pride. Stupid, stupid need to prove myself. We should have left the party earlier. I should have told Jerome no to begin with. Heck, I should have called Dr. Vanderbilt the minute I arrived in New York. But I didn’t. So tomorrow morning, Samuel’s angry fists would be splashed across Internet sites, magazines, and TV stations worldwide. Togsy would get a boon for his book. Ace would warn about potential lawsuits and assault charges. Alonso would be on the first flight to New York. Any moment, the calls would start.

I heard the shower turn on.
Samuel.
That’s what hurt the most…The negative media blitz would utterly whip him.

My phone buzzed in my hand.
So it begins
. I answered, ready to woman up and do my job.

“Kaye Trilby speaking.”

“Flower?”

“Dad?” My voice cracked.

“Hi, baby girl!”

“Whose number is this?”

“Audrey’s brother’s. I was worried I wouldn’t get to wish you a happy birthday before midnight.”

“Actually, it’s two minutes after midnight here.”

“Man, that’s right. Audrey’s entire family is visiting from Montreal and it’s just crazy here. Why are you still up?” Somewhere in the background, Audrey tittered that “the Cabral boy” was giving me a nice birthday present. My father groaned.

“Oh, Dad, it’s a long story.”

“You can tell me.”

“No…I really can’t. It’s business-related. But you know, I don’t want to think about it right now. Care to distract me?”

“Gladly.” For the next half hour, I listened, arm flung over my eyes and wretchedly homesick, as my father and Audrey soothed me with stories of his organic nuts on display at the Garden Market (I had to laugh), her pink highlights, and Lyons High’s seven homeruns at the Friday night football game (touchdowns, Audrey, touchdowns).

I didn’t notice when Samuel turned off the shower. At some point I was aware it wasn’t running. I said good night to my mother and peered into the bedroom. The bathroom door was open, remnant steam billowing from the shower and fogging the mirror. Samuel’s wet clothes lay in a heap on the dressing bench, water trickling from the cuffs.

But the bathroom was empty.

So was the bedroom.

The entire suite was empty, save for a small white box tied with a red ribbon. An envelope with my name rested under the bow. It was creased, as if he’d carried it for a while. I slid a fingernail under the flap and ripped it open.

Happy Birthday, Firecracker.

This isn’t a conventional gift, I suppose. But then, you’ve never been one for gifts unless there’s meaning attached. Kaye, you are more precious to me than my own life. I’ve known as much since I was a scraggly, six-year-old boy. It’s always been you. It always will be. You are so strong. I trust you. I love you, Samuel.

I untied the ribbon with trembling fingers. It looked like a jewelry box. More specifically, a ring box. A thought rose, unbidden.
Please don’t let it be an engagement ring. I’m too overwhelmed, I’m not ready, he promised me a trial period then he’d move to Boulder…

And then,
Oh my, I want this. I’ve waited so long for him…

No jewelry. My heart sank a bit. I frowned at the tightly folded piece of paper wedged in the box.

It was a legal document.

Medical Power of Attorney

Effective Upon Execution

I, SAMUEL CAULFIELD CABRAL, a resident of 16 Margaret Corbin Drive, New York County, NY; designate ASPEN KAYE TRILBY, presently residing at 902 Fifth Street, Boulder, CO, as my agent to make any and all health care decisions for me, except to the extent I state otherwise in this document. For the purposes of this document, “health care decision” means consent, refusal of consent, or withdrawal of consent to any care, treatment, service, or procedure to maintain, diagnose, or treat an individual’s physical or mental condition. This medical power of attorney takes effect if I become unable to make my own health care decisions and this fact is certified in writing by my physician…

I scanned the document…the additional powers, the indefinite duration unless Samuel chose to revoke said power of attorney. His signature was at the bottom, followed by two witnesses: Justin and his business manager. The document had been notarized by Ace the very day we arrived in New York City. A sticky note from him explained the original was already on file.

My eyes burned. Like so much about Samuel, I didn’t know whether this was sweet or morbid. He was giving me the power to make the calls for him, should he ever become incapacitated again. He didn’t want me steamrolled like seven years ago. He thought I was strong enough: not Caroline, Alonso, Neelie, or Aspen. Me.

He trusted me with his life.

And then I turned around and lied to him about Mr. Avant Garde. It wasn’t a stretch to figure out why he hadn’t given this to me in person.

The late hour and the remnants of alcohol made my temples throb. I squeezed them, praying that when I opened my eyes, the pain would be gone. But the light only made them ache again. I called his cell phone. A ringing sounded in the other room, coming from the depths of his overnight bag. I tried not to panic. Well, that meant he
had
to be coming back, if he’d left his phone behind.

But my gut…or symbiosis, or love, or simply understanding of Samuel Cabral…told me otherwise. Truth hit me like a loaded-down semi.

He was running again.

Chapter 14

Cut Away

In the event of a parachute malfunction,
a skydiver must make a quick, life-saving
decision to jettison the main canopy
to allow the reserve canopy to deploy.

Hydraulic Level Five [working title]
Draft 3.35
© Samuel Caulfield Cabral & Aspen Kaye Trilby
35. Hiding Easter Eggs

“I’
M
T
HINKING
A
FTER
G
RADUATION
, I’m going to travel the world. Australia, China, Thailand—as far away as I can get,” Lacy says as she nestles an Easter egg beneath a hedge.

Aspen hands her another from the basket. “You know, you can still travel when you work.”