The Story of Lansing Lotte (43 page)

I hated to ask him to get it for me, but I couldn’t risk taking Fleur out to find one ourselves. He helped me set it up in the stand he bought. While we struggled, the delivery of lights arrived from the hardware store. Fleur and I slowly unwrapped the strands from the boxes before Lila returned. I felt like a kid again, literally. The holiday spirit was slowly creeping into me, or rather, the spirit of Fleur and Lila was taking me over. Watching Lila interact and care for Fleur melted my heart. She was a good mother. I cursed myself for ever accusing her of being a bad one. She was patient and kind, and for obvious reasons, very giving. She’d given up her life to take on Fleur. It was one of the least selfish acts I’d ever known someone to do. It made Lila almost heroic.

I was torn when she told me about Mure Linn. Two-toned eyes could only be his. We all had suspected he knew something about Arturo’s whereabouts. Second to Mure Linn was Ana LeFaye, Arturo’s stepsister, and when I suddenly saw her on the street outside Bloomingdale’s, I felt the coincidence was too great.
Ana returned to New York?
Something was going on, and we needed to get to the bottom of it.

“Ana?” I called out to her, as she noticed me but decided to avoid me

It was Morte, Arturo’s young son, who looked over his shoulder. His longer black hair falling over his piercing green eyes. His face as pale as the snow that fell lightly. He stopped short, staring at Fleur, and Ana stumbled forward as she tugged his little hand.

By then, I had caught up to them.

“Ana?” I said again.

She slowly turned and her green eyes leveled me like Medusa. She twitched her bright red lips and her tongue dipped out to moisten them before she hissed my name as if surprised.

“Lansing. How wonderful to see you.”

Something made me pull Fleur closer to my legs, and she leaned her face into my thigh.

“Who do we have here?” Ana’s slithering voice filled the noisy air. I looked down at Fleur to see that Morte had reached a thin finger in her direction. His nails were a bit long for a boy, and he was dragging it down Fleur’s face. Fleur was trying to burrow even deeper into my leg before I reached down to pick her up.

“This is my girlfriend, Fleur,” I said trying to make light of the situation.

“Hmmm…,” Ana laughed with a touch of evil, “Does Guinevere know you have a new girlfriend?” Ana’s eyes danced as she knew what she said displayed her intent to stun me. Out of the corner of my eye, Morte’s head whipped in the direction of his mother.

“Guinevere wouldn’t care that he had a girlfriend,” Morte defended. “She loves Arturo.”

Ana pursed her lips and briefly closed her eyes at Morte’s tone.

“I don’t think Guinevere is too worried about Arturo, any longer,” Ana said, speaking to the child but looking at me.

“Why would you say that?” Morte’s shaky voice stole my question. Ana’s shoulders dropped.

“I just think that Guinevere has moved on. She has other things to think about, instead,” Ana said softly, her eyes still holding mine in the way of a Greek goddess of evil seduction.

“Why would you say that?” Morte insisted again. It was clear that Ana wanted to avoid the question and the growing confrontation between her and her son, but I wanted the answer to the same question.

“I have my reasons,” Ana said with a finality that Morte seemed to know meant the discussion was over. I, on the other hand, wanted more of an explanation.

“Why would you say that, actually?” I demanded. “What do you know?”

Ana didn’t reply at first, clearly plotting her answer. When she didn’t respond immediately, I tried to change the subject to ease the tension. I didn’t like Ana LeFaye and I knew she wasn’t going to give me any information I needed.

“How was Paris?” I interjected.

“Paris? We didn’t…” Morte spoke, but a hand with blood-red nails covered his mouth.

“It was beautiful,” Ana said through a clenched jaw. Her smile was in direct contradiction with the tension of her mouth.

“We must be going. Merry Christmas, Lansing.” Ana tugged on Morte, who had reached his hand out again and was holding onto Fleur’s leg. I had noticed her swinging it, but I thought she was just doing it, not that she was actually trying to defend herself against him. He was looking over his shoulder at us and Fleur peeked her head out from the protection of the scarf around my neck to look at him. Within seconds, her head was tucked back into my scarf; as if she was playing hide-and-go seek with him. As Morte stared on at us, though, I realized it was more than a slightly familiar smile crossing his lips; it looked almost as evil as his mother’s. I shivered as I jiggled Fleur to reassure her that I would never let anything happen to her.

My mind still reeled as I returned to Lila’s apartment. I had made myself comfortable there by bringing down some clothes and my guitar. I played it absentmindedly, while I sat on the couch and Fleur colored in a book on the floor. I had part one of Lila’s Christmas present all set with a giant bow on it and I hoped she liked it. My mind drifted again as I waited for her return.

Things weren’t adding up. Arturo had been seen several times in New York City, one of which was down the street from my apartment building. Mure Linn seen on the top floor of a private wing at Kingston Hospital, which Kaye had learned was a special rehabilitation center, but he was still trying to figure out for what. Ana shopping on the streets of uptown. And most of all, Morte’s words. They didn’t go to Paris, he implied.
So, where had they been?

I was still fiddling with my guitar, working on a tune in my head when the door opened with a bang and a laugh.

“Oops,” Lila giggled and just the sound of her comforted me. I’d been living with Lila for three months, and I had grown very comfortable with the little things. The way she laughed. The way she curled up on the couch. The way she smiled at me. I’d also started to recognize her struggles. The way her eyes shut her off when she disagreed or distrusted a situation. The way she bit her lip when she was going to tell you something she knew you didn’t want to hear, but needed to think about. Lila was the voice of reason for me and I needed her strength.

“Don’t look,” she demanded, but it was too late. Her apartment was smaller than mine and didn’t have an entry hall like mine did. She was practically in the living space when she told us  not to look. Her arms were hanging with bags and she appeared like she might topple over.

“What did you do?” I laughed.

“I think I went a little crazy.”

She carried everything into her room and when I followed she rounded on me.

“Out,” she demanded playfully. Moments later she entered the living room with only two bags. I pretended to reach for one and she smacked my hand.

“Tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” I looked at her puzzled.

“Christmas Eve, silly,” Fleur said.

“Silly? Did she just call me silly? Me? Silly?”

Fleur squealed as I reach for her and tickled her tiny ribs. She kicked and laughed, and it was the greatest sound I’d ever heard next to the laughter of Lila.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” Fleur screeched with mirth, as she twisted this way and that. I did stop eventually, when I had her lifted upright. Although, I’d picked Fleur up plenty of times and kissed her sweetly, I wasn’t prepared for the hug that sprang on me. She was holding my neck tightly; as if she was afraid I was going to go away. I looked at Lila over Fleur’s little shoulder, questioning her as the hug lingered. Lila looked just as puzzled and her face softened until it almost looked concerned. Slowly Fleur loosened her hold as I placed my hands on her tiny sides. Whatever the moment was, it passed as Fleur asked if we could order pizza for dinner.

Traditions are hard when you’re filled with grief and new ones need to be made. Not to eradicate the old but just to rebuild anew. The holiday was going to be created from new traditions. I came from a family with customs for when to put up a tree, where to buy one, and how to decorate it. That year it was all gone. Every Christmas decoration I owned was in a storage unit in the basement, and I didn’t have the heart to dig them out. I wanted to start fresh. Even though I didn’t believe Lansing Lotte would be any part of future traditions, I was willing to allow him in the building of this year’s.

First off, after my grand entrance of confusion and then the strange hug from Fleur to Lansing, I was finally able to notice one rather large item to the side of my living space.

“You bought me a table,” I said a bit confused.

“Merry Christmas,” Lansing said sheepishly.

“You bought me a table? For Christmas?” I asked again.

“You don’t like it?” he said, sliding his hands into his jean pockets.

I stared at the table. It was a beautiful cherry wood with six chairs. It seemed a bit grandiose for just Fleur and I, but it was gorgeous and I did appreciate the gesture.

“It’s only part of your present,” he said sheepishly. I sensed I hurt his feelings. I approached him, as Fleur had gone to her room after the tickle-fest turned hug, and I slipped my arms around him. I hadn’t been the one to touch him first, yet. I saw his eyes brighten the moment my hands caressed up his chest and over his shoulders.

“I love it,” I said, breathily. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Mmmmm…so are you,” he said, instantly tugging me by my hips up against him and kissing me breathless.  The way he kissed was tender but demanding. He wanted all of my lips at once and he took, and took, and took, and I gave in. I melted against him. He started to bend me over, so we matched up to one another. I moaned as my center met his hard length and my fingers curled through his belt loop to draw him tighter against me.

“Mr. Lansing, why are you kissing Lila?”

Our kiss broke so quickly we made a popping sound. Lansing looked down at me as if he was Santa caught kissing mommy under the Christmas tree.

“She has new lip gloss, and I wanted to see if it was really peppermint flavor,” he said, his eyes still bright. The evidence of his excitement was still visibly present as he held his back to Fleur.

“Ewww…” she said, and I laughed, resting my head forward onto his chest.

“Busted,” he whispered then added, “I need a minute.” He walked around me and entered my room, closing the door behind him.

I ordered pizza and poured myself a glass of wine with shaky hands. I don’t know why I was so nervous or upset that Fleur had seen us. She was only four, but I didn’t want her getting attached. I didn’t want her misunderstanding what Lansing and I were doing. I didn’t think Fleur knew much about kissing, couples, parents, or any of that. She only had a single mother. I’d like to think Sara didn’t bring men home when she was alive, but I couldn’t be sure. Fleur would have been under two, though, so she wouldn’t have remembered anything, anyway.

Lansing had disappeared for longer than I expected. Eventually. I entered my room to find him on the phone.

“No, I can’t come there.”

Pause.

“Yes, I’m staying here.”

Pause.

“I’m not going there for Christmas.”

Pause.

“I’ll see you at the party.”

I was trying to step back out of the room, when I walked into the door jamb, kicking the trim. Lansing’s head spun in my direction from where he stood looking out my window.

“I gotta go,” he said into the phone, as his bright eyes watched me. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled, then clicked it off.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to make sure you where okay.”

I looked down at the floor like a repentant child. I was about to reattempt my exit when I felt his presence in front of me. His whole hand cupped my cheek and I lifted my head to him.

“I’m more than okay, Lila. More than I deserve to be okay.” He kissed me sweetly, but not lingering like I wanted for reassurance of his words. He slipped a hand down to my lower back and guided me out of the room.

It was hours later; we had turned off the living room lights and lit the tree to find a backdrop of snow falling outside the broad window. I didn’t have window treatments yet, and the landscape outside was a beautiful natural filter. It was all Hallmark with the glistening tree and the reflecting snow. I’d had more than my share of wine and was feeling warm and comfortable on the couch next to Lansing.

He’d told me about seeing Ana and explained that he was on the phone with Kaye earlier. Some people were going to get together at The Round Table for Christmas, but he didn’t want to go. I didn’t press the issue. I figured if he wanted to leave he would tell me. He also explained that there was a party the day after Christmas – Boxing Day. He said it was band tradition, and Perk and Tristan refused to miss. Held at Tristan’s, Lansing promised to be there. He rubbed my leg slowly as he spoke and my thoughts detracted with the sensation. I couldn’t imagine a rock star finding it cozy to cuddle on the couch and talk. My mind worried that he was out of his element.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”