Magdalena's Shadow, page 24
Paolo looked with surprise at the gifts he had given her. “Those were for you, Coco.”
“If I’m with you, it’s because I want to be, not because you paid me.” Coco tore the check in two, pressing the halves along with the diamonds into his hands.
Paolo looked struck, his expression soft and sad. “Keep the diamonds, Coco. Please, for me?”
Coco watched him for a moment, and then nodded slowly before allowing him to slip the jewels around her neck.
“Always, these were for you, my love, just for you.” He kissed her throat, letting the necklace fall against her skin.
Paolo waited in the living room while Coco dressed for dinner. Tia slammed pots in the kitchen, peering into the living room occasionally to glare at Paolo.
“I’m going out.” Coco entered the living room, catching Tia mid glare. “Have a good night.” Tia gave her a withering look before turning back to the kitchen. “I won’t be late,” Coco added, but Tia didn’t respond.
“You will like this room.” The motion of their entrance into Paolo’s hotel room triggered every light in the suite. The room was massive. Large art nouveau wall sconces lit up early twentieth century furniture. The sofa, chairs, and pillows were all upholstered in soft pink and pale green silk. Coco walked slowly across the creamy marble floor, her heels clicking musically as she slid her silver fur from her shoulders, allowing it to fall slowly to the floor. The peach colored gown she wore revealed her bare back, small waist, and slender hips. Her body pulsed with anticipation. Slowly she looked around the room for the perfect place to enact her fantasy. The sofa with its lush cushions and broad seat reminded her of the couch in Paolo’s sunroom, sheltered beneath orange blossoms.
Gracefully she sat down, feeling the silk pillows beneath her. Perfect, she thought, and stretched out on her side to turn an invitingly sweet smile on Paolo.
“Come here, Paolo.” Her eyes fastened to his. She rolled slowly to her stomach, her peach gown clinging to every curve of her body; her glorious bottom, like two round cantaloupes, rose deliciously below the sweep of her back. Paolo stared, her beauty seeming to have overpowered him. Coco laughed, pushing herself up on her elbows, her head tilting slightly to the right. Carefully she pulled a pin from her hair, allowing the dark mass to fall down around her. Paolo stepped slowly to the edge of the sofa, coming to his knees beside her, his hand grazing her shoulder blades, running down her spine to rest on the curve of her bottom.
“You paralyze me. You are more beautiful than any woman alive.” He kissed her cheek, nuzzling her dark hair while his other hand slid down her bare arm to where her fingertips rested on the silk carpet. “Come to my bed, darling,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. At the same time, he lifted the hem of her gown, sliding his free hand up her long thigh to rest once again on her bottom.
“Yes. Later… I want you here first.”
Paolo needed no more instruction. Sliding her gown off her shoulders he kissed her throat, freeing her inch by inch from the peach dress. Coco turned her face to his, kissing his lips, her hands roaming over his body as she undid his buttons, biting and kissing the exposed skin. Moments later her dress lay at her feet, her panties pulled slowly past her hips as Paolo’s weight came down on her back, his breath hot in her ear as he bit her neck and pulled her hips up to his. This was what she wanted, what she had fantasized about for two months, sex like they’d had that first morning in the sunroom, hard wild sex with no smiling or sweet conversations. In that moment, Coco knew she didn’t want to see him; she just wanted to feel him as he pushed into her, his right hand under her pelvis, his fingers moving in time with his hips. Coco closed her eyes, no longer afraid of what she would see. She gave into the intoxication of sex, setting her body free to react as it would. Her mind took her far into the past, to the only man she had ever loved.
Coco felt her climax like a welcomed summer rain. She greeted it mouth open, eyes shut, her body melting into the delicious warmth of the moment. All the hot need that had built up over the last two months faded from her. Yet Paolo was far from finished. Pulling from her he rolled her onto her back, sliding her down the sofa into his lap. He pressed back into her, holding her hips firmly against his. Again she felt the familiar tightening as her body shuddered with pleasure, her limbs shaking as she cried out. But when she closed her eyes, again it was Rob she thought of. Instinctively Coco grabbed onto Paolo, thrusting her hips against his, intensifying the motion until she felt him bloom inside her in the last moments before he came. But it was Rob’s name on her lips, lips that she bit into silence.
With her eyes open, she held fast to the reality that Rob had left her and Paolo was with her now.
The reflection that greeted Coco in the bathroom mirror several hours later was that of a skinny, vulnerable harlot: poor and naked under smeared makeup and costly diamonds. Her features, though still beautiful, were cast with the shadow of weary regret. Already Coco could see the woman Tia feared, the woman who sold herself for a smile, a kind remark, or the pleasantness of feeling loved, even for only a moment. Paolo lay quietly in bed, happily satisfied with life while his lover hid behind the closed door, safe to face herself and this ugly reality. No matter what he says or promises, I’m still unprotected and alone. She stared steadily at her reflection, feeling the old panic twist through her body.
She didn’t cry. Instead her face became peacefully void of emotion, masked with a calm she couldn’t feel. I’m a liar and a user and I hate who I have become. She mouthed the words silently at herself feeling every part of this revelation wash coldly through her. She had never meant to hurt Rob yet her lie had killed everything they were. Now she was lying to Paolo, pretending to love him when she was incapable of doing so. Innately she knew Paolo’s love for her was far different than Rob’s had ever been. If she told him she thought of her ex-boyfriend when they made love, he would probably shrug and smile because he used her for sex and friendship in the same way she was so blatantly using him. In her heart, Coco knew she wasn’t the type who could survive on flagrant sex and secondhand pleasures. She needed… what? Whatever it was, was a thing she had yet to discover – an empty slice of herself, torn from her in the days before she had words to name it.
Coco walked back into the bedroom. “Paolo.”
He turned his head slowly to her, smiling as he watched her nestle down beside him. “Yes?” He reached for her hand, pulling her close, nuzzling her breasts as she curled into him.
“Do you think about your wife when we are together?”
Paolo laid his head back on the pillow thoughtfully. “I think of her in the morning. We’d drink espresso together before the family woke. Sometimes we’d make love but most of the time we just talked. I miss our mornings.”
“What happened?” Coco slid her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“I cheated on her with a girl who worked for me. Cristina found out, and she has shut me out of her life ever since. She lives in her family’s house in Rome, and I live everywhere else. We share the children and the business. She’s my partner but no longer my wife or even my friend.” Coco listened, quietly running her fingers over his chest. “It was the stupidest thing I have ever done – to lose my beautiful wife over an insincere little girl. My wife knew how to love a man; that girl was empty.” He shook his head, still visibly angry with himself.
“Have you tried to win her back?” Coco closed her eyes, trying to imagine what Cristina would look like. “If you regret your actions and you still love her. Do you think you’d cheat on her a second time?”
“No, but I know her; she’s as hard as ice when she’s angry. I don’t think she can forgive me.”
“You have a smile that melts ice. I think you should go and see her, at least ask her to forgive you if nothing else.”
They fell into a long silence.
“Are you breaking up with me, Coco?” Paolo stared silently at the ceiling, his features strained.
“I don’t know.” Coco looked away from him, her eyes stinging with tears she wouldn’t shed.
The clock on the wall read one-thirty a.m. when Coco returned home. She headed for the fridge, finding a package of cold spiced chicken. She wrapped the meat in a lettuce leaf and sat at the table to eat. Wrapped only in her fur, she felt the cool weight of the diamonds from where they hung heavily at her throat and ears. When she knotted her tangled hair into a ponytail, her earrings caught the light, refracting prisms across the immaculate kitchen cabinets.
After their talk, Paolo had remained kind. He had walked her to his chauffeured car and kissed her goodnight. She had watched him disappear from view, his face lit with a steady smile. There was patience in that smile: patience, perseverance, and a seemingly endless amount of open kindness.
She had told him that she loved him, and she had meant it. There were many kinds of love, and the love she felt for him was one of friendship. Worse than the lack of deep love, were the dozen if only’s that lived in the empty places in her heart. If only he were young and free, if only she had never known Rob, if only life had been different. None of that mattered now. Coco could feel her life organizing around her while she waited, like a wayward traveler, to see where it would lead.
From his crib in her darkened room, James began crying. His small voice rose to where she sat in a plaintive whimper. Coco knew the cry. Setting down her lettuce wrap, she walked to her son, who sat in the middle of his crib, his silver flecked eyes peering through the darkness in search of her.
“You’re okay.” Coco lifted him into her arms and kissed him. She heard a noise behind her, the shuffle of stiff feet as Tia opened the door.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Tia said. The two women stared at each other for a moment: one at the beginning of her life, already burdened by her mistakes, the other at the end, filled with knowledge and advice that fell on deaf ears.
“Good night.” Coco turned away, her attention focused on her son.
“No, it isn’t.” Tia’s voice rose in grief. “You smell like sex, like that man. How can you let him use you like this?”
“Paolo’s not using me, Tia.” Coco gently put James down before switching on his mobile. It lit up softly in the dim light and began to play a lullaby. “He’s kind to me and loving and I like him. He makes me happy.”
“Of course he makes you happy.”
The old woman spoke with bitter sadness, gone was the usually acidic condemnation. Tears glimmered in the corners of Tia’s eyes yet her voice was firm. “He makes you feel loved and special, showers you with gifts while he gains your trust. Then he’ll slowly lure you away from the people who love you until it’s just you and him.”
“Paolo’s not trying to lure me, Tia.”
“No? He’s already talking trash about me; next it’ll be your friends and then your kids. He doesn’t want a girl with two babies, Coco. He wants a supermodel lover with no strings attached. He’ll plant dissatisfaction in your heart while he offers you the moon. He doesn’t consider the consequences, because it’ll be you who pays the heaviest price.”
“Stop it, Tia. What makes you so twisted? For God’s sake, he’s just a nice guy who likes me.”
“If I’m twisted it’s because of men like him. I know him, Coco. I know his type.”
“No, you don’t.” Coco shook her head wearily, wanting peace, a shower, and some rest. Besides, James was still awake cooing and rustling in his blankets and he didn’t need to hear them fight. Coco walked past Tia into the hall, but the old woman followed her.
“Paolo’s charming, anyone can see that, but he’s a manipulative businessman first and foremost. He sees a good investment and a lot of pleasure when he looks at you.”
“Well that figures. You already think I’m a whore, why not believe Paolo’s a pimp if that’s what makes you happy?”
“I’m not happy, Coco. Not about any of this. He is what I believe him to be, and he’s using you and degrading you slowly. He’ll break you down bit by bit because he wants to own you. Please believe me.”
“Why should I? Oh, because you know the type? A good little Christian in your prim little nightdress knows the type?”
“I wasn’t born a Christian, Coco. God saved me when I needed him most – when I needed freedom and hope and a future free of men like your Paolo. You look at me and you judge me, but you have no idea what my life has been.”
“No, I don’t, because you never tell me anything. You keep your little secrets, dropping cryptic hints here and there. When I ask you any questions, you say, Oh, maybe I’ll tell you some time. I’m sick of it, Tia. You don’t own me, and you don’t know what it’s like to be me. You think I’m a whore but I’m not. I’m just a girl trying to raise her family and find a little love.”
“What do you think a whore is, Coco?” Tia stared at her while the question rang in the room. “Do you think a whore never comes home tired and hungry and smelling of sex, just to kiss her baby and try to scrape together some food for the night? Do you think a whore never wants to be loved, to be cared for, to be safe? You look at me and you see a sweet little old Christian lady, but I was a whore, Coco. For thirty years I lived on a pleasure yacht, coasting up and down the Gulf of Mexico and through the Caribbean Sea. I was eight years old when I was sold and thirty-eight when they threw me overboard because I was too old and used up to be profitable. Thank God I could swim. Some of the girls couldn’t. You should’ve heard their screams.” Tia turned to leave, but Coco stopped her.
“You’re lying. You have to be.”
“What does it matter now?”
“It matters because you’re using this story to control me.”
Tia met Coco’s accusation without anger. When she spoke her voice was strong.
“Remember I told you I used to hide in a house my mother worked in so I could spy on the rich family who lived there? I was so poor and they were so rich. Everything they had, everything they were was so beautiful. One day the father found me. He kissed me and fed me sweets and then he fed me laudanum. It was just enough to keep me quiet. I was completely conscious when he raped me. I could hear his children playing in the garden. I was eight years old, and I never saw my mother after that day. Some of the men on the pleasure yacht gave me sweets and toys just like he did. Some said they were my daddy. They made me trust them and love them. They promised all sorts of things before they did what they did. Trust is the tool those types of men use most. It’s the first step to seduction. Few men want to feel like rapists so they give gifts, offer safety, and promise love. A girl goes willingly when she trusts no matter how young or how innocent she is. I have known a thousand Paolos, Coco, a thousand beautiful wealthy men who have promised me the moon.” Tia stood like stone, but Coco had to lean against the wall behind her, her mind filling with visions she didn’t want to believe.
“Where did you swim to when they threw you over?”
“To Haiti. I had seen so many girls go over. I made one of the sailors teach me to swim in exchange for sex. We weren’t supposed to sleep with the crew. I swam to Haiti, and I worked the streets until Reverend Brown found me. I worked in his ministry for twenty years and then here in Chicago at one of his halfway houses. I’ve been helping girls get off the streets for so long now I can’t even remember all their names. I call them my daughters, and they call me their Tia. Coco, there are millions of whores in the world; there are millions of good and loving women who have been used and broken, drugged or degraded, and I’ve had to watch you slide slowly among their numbers.”
Tears slid down Coco’s face. She couldn’t look away from Tia’s soft sad eyes. A heavy silence hung in the still darkened hall.
“That girl who lived with you was one of the girls you helped? You never had children of your own?”
“I had two babies on that yacht, Coco, but the sea held them before I did.”
Coco took Tia’s hand as a slow sob overtook her. She saw Tia’s babies thrown into the Gulf, their little faces appearing for a moment above the water, struggling before they sank from view.
“How do you bear it?” Coco could hardly speak through her stifling tears. “How do you get from one day to the next? How could anyone survive that?”
“By believing in a loving God and by helping others so they never have to suffer the way I have. But I can only do so much, Coco. Please believe me when I tell you that Paolo isn’t your friend and never will be.”
“He would never hurt me the way those men hurt you. You have to believe me, Tia. I trust him.”
Tia let go of Coco’s hand and turned without another word toward her room.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Coco wore black to the reading of Magdalena’s will. She sat alone with her lawyer while Magdalena’s attorney read the document in a loud monotone voice. Everything happened as her lawyer had said it would. The will wasn’t complicated. It directed all of Magdalena’s estate to be put in trust for her daughter, Nicole Valentina, until her eighteenth birthday. Being already of age, Coco was able to take immediate possession of her mother’s bank accounts, her perfume line, #2, the beach house in Miramar, Argentina, and the label, La Sangre, a small fashion house with no real base.
“How much money is in the bank account?” Coco asked Magdalena’s lawyer after the will had been read.
The man riffled through his papers, pulling up the assets sheet. “Five hundred thousand.”
“That’s all?” Coco asked in surprise.
“Miss Rodriguez spent as much as she made.” Her lawyer spoke candidly. “I encouraged her to save, but she had no interest in investing.”
“Did you know her well?” Coco sized up the fat middle-aged man.
“I was her lawyer.” The statement meant that either he knew everything or nothing.
