Magdalena's Shadow, page 22
“Well,” Coco sighed with a laugh, “that’s exactly what I need.” She closed her eyes and listened to the winter wind that tore at the other side of the glass. All around her orange blossoms bloomed, filling the air with their sweet perfume.
One didn’t stay at Paolo’s estate and not end up in bed with him. This was a fact Coco learned later that day after a foot rub that ended in Coco’s first ever massage, which all took place in the sunroom. Paolo began massaging her legs, sliding her inch by inch out of the white robe. Slowly he pressed her gently onto her stomach, massaging scented oil into her shoulders and back. The pleasurable feeling removed the last of Coco’s reserves so completely that when he slid her panties off she didn’t complain.
Over the last few days Coco’s idea of what was right and wrong had somehow entered a state of gray confusion – so much so that when she felt Paolo’s weight on her back and his hands between her legs she only enjoyed the feeling, never once thinking to protest. She enjoyed the way he bit her neck and kissed her half-hidden face; she even liked the way he moved into her body, taking her from behind with such expert grace that she felt only pleasure, his hand sliding under her, teasing her to a climax long before he came.
“My darling,” he laughed as he pulled her happily into his arms. “I told you that a morning started with strawberries and chocolate is a wonderful morning. I cannot think of one thing that would make this day any more perfect. Strawberries and Coco: what man on earth is as lucky as I?”
Coco smiled, resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes tracing his body. Some of his chest hairs were silver, and he had a scar on his ribcage more than three inches long. His heart beat against her ear with a beautiful thrumming. Without knowing why, Coco felt a sudden overpowering grief. She felt Paolo’s arms around her, his heart beating with her own, and remembered sitting with Rob, her head resting against his chest hearing the music of his heart. She had memorized his heartbeat, the rumble of his laughter, the tonality and rhythm of his conversation. A cruel loneliness found Coco in that moment; it brought with it the naked realization that she was, in her heart, still afraid of the world and in desperate need of shelter.
Paolo talked on happily, his voice bringing small comfort. She didn’t question why she had chosen to have sex with Paolo. She didn’t recall how it had happened, but she found that what was done once was more easily accomplished the second time. The third time they made love the grief slipped further from her, replaced by the short-lived intoxication of easy pleasure.
Coco watched Paolo sleep, ensconced in his massive medieval bed, its four black pillars the size of tree trunks. She felt rested and content to watch the sun rise over the estate, its gardens blushing with pink light, masking the grey-green winter drabness in gold and rose colored hues. Slipping silently from bed Coco put on the now familiar white robe and unlocked the double door to the balcony, feeling the instant chill of the wet gray morning the moment she stepped out.
I can breathe here, she thought, her hands coming to rest on the old stone railing while the chilly breeze played in her hair removing the intoxication of the last two days. Standing on the balcony she tried to picture Bebe running in the garden, her little pink feet chilled by the winter dew, a mischievous smile on her face. She envisioned James sitting on the rich Turkish carpets, grasping onto the sides of the massive bed as he learned to stand. It felt good to remember them, to draw them near if only in her mind. This would be the most beautiful place to raise them, she thought, knowing that life would be so easy if Paolo would keep them.
Her attention was quickly diverted when the door opened quietly behind her and Paolo walked out wearing his matching white robe. He kissed her throat, his arms coming around her waist, pulling her to him. With eyes closed Coco turned and kissed him good morning, but a moment later they were back in bed, their robes forgotten on the floor, their arms and legs entwined as they began to make love again. Paolo caressed every inch of her with loving care, kissing her and nibbling her until his mouth reached her inner thigh.
“Not that.” Coco sat up to stop him, a sudden sad look crossing her face.
“Whatever you like, Coco.” He rose up to kiss her lips, his hands sliding her body down the bed until her hips rested in his lap.
“Oh God!” Coco’s back arched as they suddenly merged, her body instantly reacting to the intensity of this new position, her arms clasped tightly around Paolo’s neck as he held her hips to his, forcing her to move against him. But no matter how hard she tried, Coco couldn’t push Rob from her mind. He had touched her and tasted her in that same way, his kisses running up her thigh. Tears streamed down Coco’s cheeks. She held Paolo close, returning his kisses again and again, her body pressing ever closer to his. A ragged sob escaped her the moment she felt him finish inside her.
When Coco opened her eyes, Paolo was looking at her, noting the tears that coursed down her face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Coco smiled, “I’m fine.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I’m fine. There is nothing wrong. I promise.”
“I think you must be the first woman I’ve ever met who doesn’t like to be kissed down there,” he laughed, stroking her hair away from her face. “Why don’t you like it?”
“I like it.” Coco turned her face from his as fresh tears filled her eyes. “But I can’t take it.”
“Why?” Paolo persisted. When she looked back at him, Paolo was still watching her, his eyes soft with concern.
“I had a friend… a lover… he did that once and then he left me.”
“What a fool.” Paolo shook his head.
“I loved him,” Coco admitted sadly. “I was a fool too.”
“How did you get the scar?” Paolo’s hand moved to her stomach, his fingers tracing the white line that ran down from her belly button.
“Well,” Coco laughed bitterly, “I had his baby nine months after he left. My life seems to be running a touch on the dramatic side. I try to make good decisions, be a good person, but I make so many mistakes.”
“Was he your first?”
Coco nodded.
“And since then?”
“Just you.” Coco frowned. “I don’t do this often if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s not what I meant. In all honesty, I’ve never met with such a sweet and innocent girl in my life. You are practically a virgin.” His expression faded to a look of dismay. “And your baby?” Paolo asked after a long pause. “Where is it now?”
“Home. He’s at home with a friend.”
Paolo nodded slowly. “You are so young, Coco. Most girls your age care only about clothes and the next party. You are a mother. You talk with me like a woman, and you make love with such fresh innocence that I’m left in awe of you. Most girls I take to bed smile and simper, but they aren’t sincere. They like my money or my cars or my big houses, but not me. You don’t even seem to notice that I’m old and gray.”
“Because you’re not.” Coco pushed him playfully. “Don’t say that. I think you are beautiful.” But his mention of other girls stung her. After a long silence Coco couldn’t help asking, “Do you do this a lot? Bring girls home for sex and strawberries.”
Paolo didn’t answer at first. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “It’s become a game, I guess. Sex is another way to fill up the days. My wife is a good Catholic. She won’t give me a divorce and she won’t be my wife, so I live this sort of half-life, married but alone, lonely but not free to find anything more. It… how do you Americans say?”
“Sucks?”
“Yes. It sucks,” Paolo agreed, his lips twisting in a bitter smile.
“Then why don’t you find a permanent girlfriend?” Coco ran her hand down his chest.
“I’ve tried, but again they aren’t sincere. I’m a vain man; I need to be loved for me and not my possessions.”
“When men look at me they just see this,” Coco looked down at her long, slim, cinnamon colored body. “I don’t get a chance either.”
Paolo laughed. He leaned over and kissed her. “You are the most charming girl I’ve ever met. I see you beyond your debilitating perfection.”
“And I see you beyond your big houses and fancy cars.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I’m leaving for Milan on Monday.” Paolo traced Coco’s collarbone with the tip of his finger as they lay in the sunroom three days later.
“Don’t.” Coco buried her face into his neck and hugged him.
“I must. I have businesses there that I can’t put off.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“A week.”
“I’ll be back in Chicago by the time you return.”
Neither of them spoke for a long time. When Coco rolled onto her back she noticed a butterfly with giant green wings land on an orange blossom near where they lay.
“We don’t have butterflies like that in Illinois.” Coco watched the insect flit from one flower to another.
“Nor in Rome. I bring them in from South America – from Brazil and Argentina.”
Above the glass, storm clouds filled the sky blown by a fierce wind; yet inside, a foreign butterfly, as fragile as ash, as beautiful as a rope of emeralds, floated safely from blossom to blossom.
“You could keep me like that butterfly,” Coco said softly. “I’m South American and beautiful and rare.”
Paolo laughed but when he looked at her she was serious. “Would you want to be kept, Coco?”
“Sometimes it sounds very nice. Sometimes I’m so afraid. The idea of having a safe place to land seems very comforting.” They watched the butterfly in silence for a long time.
“I’ll keep you if you’ll let me, but you may not want me to.”
“Why not?” Coco rose up on her elbow, her long hair falling around her face as she looked into his eyes. He lay on his back looking troubled.
“Because I arranged this week with your agent well over a month ago. I am paying Tom twenty-five thousand euros for your time.”
Coco didn’t know what to say or how to feel. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because this can’t be allowed to happen again; you need protecting. You need a good man, someone who will take care of you. Tom sold you and you need help.”
“Who from? You?” Coco glared down at him in anger.
“Yes… me. Or someone like me. Someone who cares what happens to you.”
“I can’t bear this. I’m not a whore. No one has the right to buy and sell my time.”
“I know that now,” Paolo said quietly. “I thought you were a professional at first, but I quickly realized you were here because you wanted to be. I’m so sorry,” he added, trying to comfort her.
“Tom sold me to you?” she asked looking into his eyes, “and you thought I was a professional?”
“Yes…” Paolo saw the anger in her eyes when she rose to find her robe.
When Coco reached her room, she found her clothes hanging exactly where he had said they would be five days earlier. She pulled them from the hangers and headed to the bathroom for a shower. When she reemerged Paolo was sitting quietly on the bed watching her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I never meant to hurt you.”
The words burned through Coco like a hot iron. “Funny,” she gathered her things in a fury, “that’s exactly what Rob said to me the last time I saw him. That night he broke my heart and left me pregnant.”
A car and driver waited outside the door. Coco slid into the black Rolls without a second look. As the car pulled out of the driveway she felt Paolo’s eyes on her, willing her to look back; she knew then that when she saw him again those eyes would call to her as they did now. He was a rich womanizer, but a sincere one, and she liked him.
An hour and a half later the Rolls slid through Rome, passing men every bit as beautiful as the one she had just left. Rome is a fountain of masculine perfection, she thought, fishing distractedly in her bag for lip gloss and a tissue. The car stopped. The driver opened her door. Taking her hand, he helped her out onto the tricky cobblestones, her heels sliding at odd angles on the uneven ground.
“For you, Signorina.” The man handed her a black package. Coco took it, letting it fall to the bottom of her bag before she walked into the hotel to find Tom.
“You’re back,” Tom beamed, coming to kiss her when she entered his room.
Coco noticed the beautiful boy from Paolo’s party lounging in a chair near the fire. Coco turned to look at the boy who smiled up at her sweetly.
“So, Tom, was he a good fuck? I hope you didn’t pay too much for the pleasure.” She walked over to the boy, surveying him like a purse she was thinking of buying.
“He gave it freely.” Tom grinned cheerfully and poured himself a drink. “And just so you know he doesn’t speak a word of English.”
“You pimped me out! You whored me out and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me!”
“Like you’d have gone if you knew,” he laughed.
“Why did you do it? We were making plenty of money. Why?”
“It wasn’t about the money, Coco. You needed a good lay and you needed it badly. Don’t you remember the way you shied away from that model at the shoot last week? Coco, you needed breaking in and Paolo was the perfect choice. Besides, if you land his label we’ll be set for years.”
“So, I was also sleeping with Paolo for the contracts? That’s an amazing second twist.”
“That’s the way a lot of contracts are made, Coco. What happened is nothing compared to what some girls go through to get signed.” Tom shrugged and drank his whiskey in one gulp. Something in the way he held the empty crystal glass reminded Coco of Blackwell. Blackwell had held his empty glass in that same way the night he had beaten her for not signing.
“Tom…” Coco spoke in a low controlled voice, her mind reaching sudden undeniable conclusions. “You knew Blackwell beat his girls, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Sometimes, but never badly enough to mess them up permanently.”
Coco listened, her eyes caught by the fire in the hearth. “Then why did he leave me in the snow to die?”
Tom didn’t answer. He looked suddenly pale. When she asked him a second time he shook his head and poured himself another drink.
“You were supposed to come and get me, weren’t you? I was too valuable to die. I was supposed to be scared enough to sign, nothing more.”
“You were already gone when I got there!”
“Why did you wait so long?”
“Remember, publicity is part of fame. I would never have let you die. Besides, he had so much dirt on you. If I had brought you in and patched you up the way I did with all the others, he would have just blackmailed you until you signed. He knew about Rob and James so I needed you in a hospital. It’s that simple. With the media and the lawyers, you were instantly cover page material.”
“How did he know about Rob and James?”
“He’s been watching you for years.”
“Why? Why would he do that?”
“Think about it, Coco. He found your mother in an Argentine ghetto, yet when she got pregnant, he didn’t kick her to the curb? He kept all those baby pictures of you, too. Why do you think that was? Don’t tell me you never wondered.”
“Blackwell is nothing to me.”
“Believe it, honey. I heard him say it himself. You are his daughter.”
“I don’t have a father. Now tell me why did you wait so long to come for me, Tom? I nearly died.”
“I just told you. If you got the cops involved and there was a conviction, then Blackwell would go down.”
“But why me?”
“Because I was tired of cleaning up after him, tired of comforting his victims, and tired of him. I loved the fact that you didn’t worship him from day one. You were different because you had balls and commitments, because you’re Magdalena’s daughter, and the world gives a shit whether you live or die.”
“And because you wanted the publicity, the celebrity, and the chance to represent me if I survived. And let’s not forget the fact that you thought you could make millions selling my ass. I can’t believe I ever thought you were my friend.”
Tom stared at her and then laughed, dismissing her accusations with a wave of his hand. “Let’s not forget, it’s my contract you signed, not Blackwell’s. I own that ass, honey, and as sweet as it is, I will sell it when necessary.”
“The contract is finished, Tom. It was void when you let Blackwell beat me.”
“You hadn’t even signed with me then. Besides, only a crazy person would walk away now. I will get you work with all of Paolo’s labels – and I’m talking with Prada, one of Magdalena’s key labels.”
“It’s over, Tom.” Coco picked up her bag and walked out of the room.
Tom reached her in seconds. “It sure would be sad if Rob found out he has a son he doesn’t know about. Imagine how he would feel if he knew what a whore you are.”
Coco turned on him. “And imagine how you would feel if the New York P.D. found out that Blackwell had an accomplice. I don’t think Prada would be as likely to take your calls if they knew you were a murdering pimp.”
Tom stopped where he stood and watched Coco disappear into the gray day.
Coco hailed a taxi, directed it to the airport, and slumped back in her seat feeling empty and exhausted. When, she wondered, would life stop sucking? Somehow, in some way, she had to find a rhythm that made sense, a place of peace where all the crap of living couldn’t touch her.
Closing her eyes, Coco prayed for the first time since she had knelt on the roof in the snow. “God, if you’re listening, I need help. I’ve been tossed around for years now, and I’m so tired. Please give me a safe place to land and the will and ability to make good choices. Please guide me and forgive me.”
