Magdalena's Shadow, page 12
“You didn’t like it.” Rob watched her with concern.
Her eyes moved slowly toward his, blinking back tears. “It was….” but she couldn’t finish. It was beautiful, incredible, and debilitating. A drama too vivid for a girl who had lived her life in the shadow of loss.
“I’ll take you home.” Rob pressed his hand to her back, helping her to rise. “I always forget how delicate you are.” He smiled his half smile but it was sad, without charm or flirtation.
Coco felt herself guided up the stairs through the clapping crowd, into the massive foyer, while the resurrected Tosca bowed and blew kisses to the crowd.
Only when they entered the lobby could Coco speak. “You were right. I can relate to her. I would do anything for the people I love. I would rather die than lose what she lost.”
“Don’t say that.” Rob’s brow creased. “I’ll take you to Falstaff next time, or The Magic Flute. No more tragedies, I promise.”
Coco smiled her first smile since the curtain went up. “I’ve never heard such music,” she said wistfully, tears welling up in her eyes again. “Thank you.”
“No thanks, please. I never meant to make you cry. It’s the last thing in the world I wanted.”
“I know.” Coco blushed sweetly. “I’m sorry I spoiled it.”
“You didn’t spoil it.” Rob kissed the top of her head. “I was going to take you to dinner,” he looked into her eyes, “but I think maybe we should go home.”
“I think you’re right.” Coco steadied herself on his arm, trying to shake off the feeling that had overtaken her. All the restlessness and anxiety she had felt before had drained to nothing in the wake of Tosca’s desolation.
Coco felt utterly quiet, heartbroken, and dependent on Rob’s love. As he led her from the building a new resolution settled in her breast: she wouldn’t tell him her age until after her eighteenth birthday. How could she risk losing him over a simple formality? How could she ever have dreamed of endangering the precious love that existed between them when there were so many other realities to fear? When she had seen Mario die before the firing squad she’d known that it was too soon for the truth. They had this moment, they had each other, and that was enough.
A sharp wind attacked them the moment they left the opera house. It lifted the hem of Coco’s heavy black fur and twisted her hair into savage knots. Rob held her close as they made their way toward his car. Together they crossed the street away from the crowd exiting the opera house.
A voice called loudly from the steps of a nearby club. A man approached them grinning.
“Rob, you bastard,” his voice rose above the wind. The man met them once they had crossed the street. Coco felt Rob stiffen, felt his shoulder slip in front of her in a protective gesture.
“What the fuck are you doing? I thought you were going to party with us.”
“No,” Rob said. “I made other plans.”
“So I see.” The man looked Coco up and down with an appraising leer. “Nice, Rob, but you have always had good taste.”
“This is Bill Foster, my ex-brother-in-law.” Rob bit his lower lip and glared into the wind. “Bill, this is Coco.”
Coco nodded and looked away.
“Beverly is going to be pissed if you skip out on her. The whole firm is here.” Bill never once took his eyes off Coco.
Rob’s arm tightened around her waist. He looked over his shoulder toward the Mercedes that sat a few feet away. “Bill, you know my sister hates me. The last thing she wants for her birthday is my company.”
“Come in for a second. It won’t kill you.”
The in Bill referred to was a loud techno bar called Itzy’s with black lights and blue neon. “We need to get home.” Rob looked down at Coco who remained silent.
“You are in no position to piss anyone off,” Bill argued, taking a step closer. “Bev may be your sister but she’s also your boss. It’s her birthday and we’re celebrating Smith v. Navfourth.”
Rob looked again at Coco, momentarily torn. He reached his decision in seconds. “Like I said, I’ll make it up to Bev. Right now, we’re going home.”
“It’s okay,” Coco said nervously, hating to be the cause of friction. “You should say hi.”
“Listen to the girl!” Bill countered while Rob glared at him. “It’ll only take a minute to show your face, Rob, and that minute might save your job.”
Itzy’s front entrance was guarded by two bouncers. Coco hesitated, frightened that one of them might ask to see her ID. In truth, she had no reason to fear them. Rob was on the guest list and she was with him. No one questioned either of them. Once in, Coco couldn’t hear Rob or any of the other sophisticated white-collar people she was introduced to. As she looked around she saw strange, surreal looking people moving and talking in the constantly flickering light. In a corner a woman laughed, her back pressed up against the wall while a man nibbled at her throat playfully. When the woman laughed again, Coco was startled by the glow of her bleached teeth in the black light: sparkling, sharp, and animal like. It seemed everyone in the club had glowing bleached teeth and hauntingly sharp eyes. They seemed more like a pack than a firm.
A glass of something found its way into Coco’s hand. She sipped the drink nervously, remembering the flavor from years before when she’d sampled Magdalena’s wet bar. Now the taste seemed less bitter, and after several sips she felt the liquor take effect.
Rob showed her to a stool at the bar. “Bev’s party would have to be here,” he grumbled, glaring at the walls. “Give me a second, and I’ll be right back.” Coco watched his broad shoulders disappear into the melee, his white shirt glowing purple under the black light, his black curls standing in dark contrast against the collar. As he disappeared into the crowd, Coco couldn’t help comparing him to Tosca’s Mario with deep satisfaction.
The music drowned everything in pulsing beats while Coco sipped her drink and tried to blend with her surroundings. Slowly the alcohol removed the last of her nervous agitation, leaving her free to watch the well-groomed Caucasian couples who moved around her. The firm had rented the entire club for the night, creating the select segregation this particular set of people desired.
Coco felt relaxed and almost herself when a hand fell onto her shoulder. Certain to find Rob’s steely dark eyes looking down on her, she turned but found hungry green irises framed in a tanning-bed-brown face. The contrast was unsettling.
“So, gorgeous, how many drinks will it take until you think I’m hot enough to go home with?”
Coco didn’t smile. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world.”
Bill leaned in, lowered his eyes to hers, and sat on the stool next to her. “Let’s test that theory. You look like a lightweight to me.” Turning he flagged the bartender for another round.
“I’m not here to drink with you.” She turned her eyes back on the crowd in search of Rob.
“Why not? You are much too fine for a fuck-up like Rob. Where’d he take you anyway?” Bill looked at her gown, her black fur, and the gold cross at her throat.
“Tosca.” Coco gestured in the direction of the opera house.
“Who the fuck goes to the opera?” Bill laughed. “Poor Rob, still playing the dilettante, trying to prove that he has enough class to hang with our crowd. He is so old-school it’s sad. No one else does opera and plays and the symphony, just him.”
“I loved it.” Coco turned even further away, trying to ignore Bill, who never took his eyes off her. After what seemed like the longest minute of Coco’s life she heard him speak.
“I’m bored, chica. How about we have some fun?” In that second Bill slid his hands around her waist, turning her on the stool to face him.
Coco opened her mouth to tell him to back off but no sound escaped her lips as Bill clamped his mouth over hers, his tongue shooting in. Coco fought desperately to get away, her nails biting into his forearm. She pushed him back, nausea turning her stomach. The man’s saliva was stringy and thick; he tasted foul and even his skin emitted an unpleasant greasy smell. He took hold of her arms, forcing her roughly back against the bar. She slammed her right heel down hard into his foot while she fought him off.
“Simmer down,” Bill commanded. He glanced quickly around the bar, but no one was looking. Before Coco could move he pressed her back to the bar with more force, his nose tracing the curve of her ear. “Rob’s always been good at sharing. He won’t mind if I try you out a bit.”
Coco freed her right hand, bringing her fist up hard under Bill’s jaw, causing his perfect bleached teeth to clatter together. But instead of being angry he laughed. “I love you Latinas. You girls never stop fighting.” He bit her neck but was suddenly jerked backwards, his shirtfront and coat coming up under his chin, unbalancing him as he was hauled off.
“You fucking leave her alone,” Coco heard Rob growl. He threw Bill viciously into the room.
The crowd staggered, taking the man’s weight before pushing him back. Coco felt her fur being dropped over her shoulders, felt Rob’s arm around her waist, half lifting her off her feet. Rob slammed the door open and the wind hit her hard in the face.
They drove home in unbearable silence. Rob’s rage was palpable. Coco didn’t dare look at him. When the tower came to view Coco pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, bracing herself for the cold walk to the building.
Only when the elevator doors slid open on the 30th floor did Rob pause to look at her.
Coco had never seen this side of him. His fierce strength awed and repelled her at the same time.
“It was a bad night,” she said gently. “It wasn’t supposed to be, but it was.”
“Bad is an understatement. Bad doesn’t even begin to describe seeing him on you, seeing you manhandled like one of his drunk-ass sorority chicks.” Rob shook his head, his jaw clenched. “I still have to work with Bill. I still have to deal with him, and right now I want to drive down there and kill him.”
“I’m sorry,” Coco shrugged. “Try to forget about it.”
Rob laughed but it was a harsh laugh, not his usual soft chuckle. “You should go in.” He pressed his hand into the small of her back, guiding her toward her door.
Inside #2, Coco turned to see Rob standing at the threshold, a storm in his eyes. She wished again that she could comfort him, that she could make him let go of what happened.
Coco dropped her coat off her shoulders, turning from him to drape it over the sofa. She could feel Rob’s eyes fasten on the curve of her hips, the small of her back, the definition of her shoulder blades as they moved beneath the straps of her black gown.
“Are you coming in?” Coco asked, her eyes fixed on a painting she didn’t see. She sensed Rob stiffen when she kicked off her heels.
Glasses tinkled at the wet bar and a moment later Rob stood beside her with a glass of gin and a damp washcloth.
“Wash him off you, please.” He offered her the cloth.
Coco looked at him, at the cloth, and then at her hand as it rose without protest to his. She felt the soft terry cloth glide over her bruised lips, carrying away all traces of Bill Foster.
“Drink this.” Rob offered her the shot.
“No, I’ve already had enough tonight, and you’re being very controlling.” She turned from him and heard the glass clink on the sideboard followed by silence. “Rob….” Coco turned to the wet bar where he stood watching her, the now empty glass resting between his fingers.
“Come here, Coco.” His voice sounded firm yet gentle. Again, Coco found herself doing as she was told; like a little girl she walked to him, trusting and innocent. Coco leaned her head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat. She felt his hand cup the back of her head, stroking her long hair while he held her close.
“I wish I could make you happy.” Coco looked up into his face, her eyes searching his. “I hate seeing you this upset.”
Rob brushed a curl off her shoulder but didn’t speak. If she could have seen his hands she would have seen the way they shook. “Rob, what’s this all about?” His eyes were like steel, all the warmth she loved gone. “I’m okay.” She pressed her hands to both sides of his jaw, trying to get him to relax. “How can I make you okay, too?” She smiled, blinking up at him.
His expression softened from rage to anguish. “I’m going to go home now.” He quietly kissed her forehead before moving past her to the door. “I’ll check on you in the morning.”
Coco grabbed his hand, holding onto him possessively. “Don’t.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry for what happened. I should’ve left the moment he sat next to me. I fought….”
“What happened isn’t your fault,” Rob interrupted, his voice low with emotion. “My God, Coco. You can’t believe I blame you, you’re….” But he trailed off, his expression pained. He pulled his hand from hers and moved again for the door. “I’m not myself right now. I’ve got to go. You’re not the first girl I’ve seen treated like that. I watched my own mother treated like a whore by Bill’s father, and I wasn’t able to protect her, either. I need time… I’ll see you in the morning, Coco.”
“Don’t go,” Coco half begged. Despite Rob’s assurances that he would be back, she had the distinct feeling that he was leaving her for good. The feeling flooded her with icy terror. Coco could endure anything but being left. On tiptoes, she rose up to place a kiss on his lips, a tear already sliding down her cheek. “Please don’t leave me, not ever, especially not like this. I can’t be left….”
It was the kiss that broke him.
In an instant Rob lifted her up against his body, holding her to his heart as his emotions took over. He set her on the tall wet bar, her knees parting, his lips crushing hers in an almost savage kiss. Coco kissed him back with the same intensity, his face held lovingly between her hands. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him even closer, her tears mingling with his as they devoured one another. The mixed intensity of love and fear overwhelmed Coco; she didn’t notice when the black dress slid off her shoulders, past her hips, falling in a shimmering pile to the floor.
Rob’s hands and lips moved fiercely over her body. He kissed her, descending lower with each passionate caress, his touch erasing every insult Bill Foster had placed there. Rob pressed her into the cold granite. “I should’ve protected you better,” he murmured. His fingers ran down her back, his lips finding her breasts, causing Coco to shudder beneath his touch. In turn her fingers slid over his body, pressing him close as she felt her body shiver at his touch. When he drew back Coco unbuttoned his shirt, pushing the white linen off his shoulders to land on her dress. Her lips tasted his neck only to discover that he was both salty and sweet. She tried to slide off the wet bar to her feet but Rob stopped her, pressing his lips to her throat as his arm came around her waist, his free hand sliding up her inner thigh.
“You did what you could. Don’t blame yourself.” Coco tried to distract him. “Rob, sweetheart, look at me.” His eyes, when he looked up, were luminous and dark, a mixed expression of passion and pain. He pressed her back against the stone, kissing her lips to silence, his fingers moving again up her inner thigh in a way that made Coco dizzy. Smoothly he removed her panties, his teeth nipping at one thigh then the other until his lips replaced his fingers and Coco forgot that she had ever wanted off the granite, that she had ever had any idea other than giving in. His eyes flickered over her face, taking in her pleasure as he guided one leg then the other over his shoulders. With eyes half closed, his mouth returned to her center, pressing further into her with the better angle. Coco shook with pleasure until she shuddered with her first ever orgasm, her fingers tangled in his hair.
Rob’s hands slid up Coco’s body, over her hips, ribs, and breasts then down again until he took hold of her hips, sliding her off the granite. With eyes closed Coco arched her back as he moved slowly into her. The dizzying sweet pressure grew in intensity moment by moment as he moved inside her, withdrawing slightly, then pressing deeper. He teased her with his movement, nuzzling her hair before kissing the place behind her ear.
Rob pressed one last time all the way, but in that second Coco tensed, her eyes flying open as she cried out in pain. Her hands grabbed at Rob’s arms causing him to freeze. Their eyes met, his sharp with worry and concern and then shocked realization. No wonder Coco felt unlike any woman he had ever been with. He shook with the strain. In that moment Rob lost control. It’d been years since he had last made love, not since the many months before Mila’s birth. The shock of his body’s reaction hit him where he stood; but that shock was nothing compared to the reality that Coco had been a virgin.
Time stopped. Neither of them spoke. And then it was over.
Coco felt Rob pull away as he set her on her feet. She watched him put on his clothes and walk from the room while her hushed sobs shattered the heavy silence that followed. All along she had promised herself that she wasn’t lying to him, that they were friends who loved each other and that someday soon she would tell him. But not like this, never like this. After what seemed like an eternity he returned, no more than a dark shadow in the doorway.
“How old are you?” Rob’s voice echoed coldly from where he stood, his hands grasping the door jamb, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to look at the girl he had just deflowered. Coco remained silent. “I’ve asked you this question before, Coco. Please answer me. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.” Coco answered, the word quivered into the darkened room. “I’ll be eighteen in a few months. I’m of the age of consent now, I’m just not your age.”
Rob nodded, still looking at the floor before he sagged into a chair by the wet bar. “When were you planning on telling me, before or after Tia had me hauled into court? You know what we just did is indefensible.” He sat with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “I thought you were my age. I imagined once that you might be younger, maybe twenty-three, but never seventeen. I thought you were a single parent my… own… age.”
