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Victor released me. I sat back against the tub. He sloshed over to collect a bottle of shampoo out of the collection on the ledge. I admired how the wet white shirt clung to his lean, strong muscles and the way his jaw set firm, now fixed on a task. It reminded me of how he looked when he was at the computer. He came back, twisting his fingers in the air. “Turn around.”
I let him guide me. He sat up in the tub, putting his knees up. He guided me back until my back was against his legs. He touched the side of my jaw to show me I could tilt my head until it rested against his pushed together knees. It made me wonder how long he’d been thinking about this. He knew exactly where he wanted me.
His hands threaded through my wet hair. He cupped the water from the bath, drawing it over my scalp, letting the warmth flow over my hair. After the water was gone, he combed his fingers through my hair again. Unlike Gabriel, whose fingers massaged deeply, Victor kept his fingers gentle. “There’s so much I want to show you. There’s so much to do. If you don’t ever like something, tell me. We don’t have to do it. But if you like it, we’ll do it again. All you have to do is tell me.”
“I’m happy hearing you play the piano. Will you play for me again?”
His hands stopped midway through combing. He gathered my hair into a strong grasp. My head tilted where he wanted me. He bent forward, until his lips met my forehead. He kissed me there and drew back only a fraction of an inch. “Yes. For you.”
“I’m excited about the concert you said you wanted to take me to.”
He stiffened behind me. His lips traced my forehead as he spoke. “You want to go? I mean, it’s usually kind of boring and stiff. And the people there are real jerks sometimes.”
“I thought if I go, at least someone would be listening, then maybe you wouldn’t hate them so much.”
His fingers moved against my scalp, in slow deep massaging motions. “Sang-whatever-your-middle-name-is-Sorenson. Are you trying to fix me?”
I had to chuckle at his admission of not knowing my whole name. I guess I didn’t know his, either. “I don’t want you to hate playing the piano. You’re amazing. Maybe they aren’t always listening, but they hear you. Maybe your playing does them some good, even if they don’t know it.”
His breath fell heavy against my forehead. His fingers found the base of my head and neck. He lifted me, guiding me until I was sitting up again, looking into those smoldering fire eyes. His lips parted, his mouth moved, but whatever he was trying to say, I couldn’t catch it. He was speaking too softly.
Victor licked his lips and he swallowed. He tried again. “Sang ... love ...”
The door to the bathroom crashed against the wall. A male voice bellowed at us from across the bathroom. “What the hell is going on in here?”
I whirled around, but Victor was faster. He leapt up and out of the tub. He placed himself in front of me, becoming the wall to protect me. He blocked my view.
“What are you doing in here?” Victor called to the intruder.
“Someone told me my son had a little girl in here. I didn’t want to believe it.” There was a sound like someone breathing in deeply through a congested nose. “But god damn, here she is. I thought for sure it would be that gay kid. Or maybe even that Kota that’s always hanging around.”
Someone told him? Was it Mrs. Morgan? Or the maid? Maybe a guard? Did Silas mention it to him as he was leaving? Was I not supposed to be up here? I knew most parents would probably not think a girl sleeping over was appropriate. This was probably highly inappropriate. He just didn’t understand.
“Get out,” Victor said, his voice dropping an octave, his chest heaving. Pools of water formed around his feet as his clothes dripped.
I peeked around his arm. Aside from the deep tan, the heavy creases around the eyes and at his mouth, and the obvious age difference, he was a dead match for Victor. The only thing missing were the fire eyes—his mother’s eyes.
Victor’s father sneered, tilting his head at my direction. “And who exactly is this little darling? Why haven’t we been introduced?”
Victor lunged to the side, preventing me from looking around him anymore. “Since when did you care who I have here?”
“Since I learned my son might not be a faggot after all.” There were footsteps coming closer. “I told you those concerts would bring in the girls. Now look at you. bout to become a man. She’s real pretty, too.”
“Get out,” Victor said, his voice deepening, threatening.
“I think you’re forgetting whose house you’re in, son. Now be a gentleman and introduce your girlfriend to me. I want to see her for myself.”
“This isn’t appropriate.”
“She’s not a prostitute, is she? Not that I care, but you don’t have to be embarrassed if she is. Lots of guys get their first time done by a whore. It’s just practice.”
“Get out!” Victor lunged forward, stabbing a fist into the air. When he stepped away from the tub, I could glance around him.
Mr. Morgan took a step back out of Victor’s range. His leer broadened, amused. “Don’t be such a little shit. I’m not going to ask to fuck her, too.” His eyes turned to me. “Not unless that’s on the menu. I could show you how it’s done.”
Victor grunted. He lunged for the cordless phone still sitting by the shampoo bottles. He hovered his fingers over the numbers. “Give me a reason.”
Mr. Morgan frowned, and held up his hands. “I’m just teasing you. No need to call in the bodyguards. I just wanted to come see her for myself is all.” He waved his hand in the air dismissively and turned around. “See you later. I’m suddenly in the mood for cherry pie.”
When Mr. Morgan left, Victor reeled back his arm and hurled the phone at the mirror. The phone crunched against the glass, cracking the mirror.
I cringed back into the tub, suddenly afraid of Victor.
Victor inhaled deeply, letting his breath out slowly. His shoulders shifted as he breathed.
“Victor,” I called to him in a tiny voice.
He blinked, his eyes slid around. The blaze receded back into a gentle smolder. “I’m sorry, Sang.” He turned away from me, heading for the door. “Finish up. I’ll find you some clothes. I’m sorry. I really can’t be here anymore. Let’s go.”
SPA DATE
Inside the BMW, Victor slowly returned to normal. It seemed the further we got from his parents’ house, the better he felt. He avoided talking about his father. Instead, he talked about the spa we were going to, as if trying to convince me it really was a good place.
I listened to him quietly. I wanted to talk, but I didn’t have an opinion about where we were going since I’d never been. I wanted to hear his voice, too. It was soothing after meeting his father. I wanted to ask questions, but didn’t know what to ask.
I ended up wearing the clothes I’d worn the night before, except the button-up collared shirt, which I think belonged to Luke.
Victor passed a bridge across the West Ashley River. Soon he was pulling into the parking lot of a boutique shopping center, where the shops looked like they had once been quaint little cottages which had been repurposed. One building in the center stood out with its large fountain and pond full of koi fish. A stone sign read, “Marée”.
“What does the name mean?”
“It’s French, I think,” Victor said. “I think it means tide, or like tide waters or something like that.”
“Do you know French?”
“Not really. Gabriel does a bit. I know Japanese better.”
Victor parked and nearly jumped out of the car, racing around to open my door. He held out his hand, the smile having finally returned to his face. “Time for a little fun, Princess.”
Now that we were here, I did feel a little guilty. I had no idea where the other guys were, but I had no doubt they were probably already working. I wondered where Silas had disappeared to and where North had to go in such a hurry the night before. I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind. Victor wanted me to have fun and do this with him. I didn’t want to fake a smile. I really did love being with him.
He held my hand as we walked through the front door of the spa. The name matched the interior decor, with aqua walls and a swirl design on the carpet. The front desk resembled an island tiki-style shop, with an overhang made of faux banana tree leaves.
An older woman was stationed at the desk. She had sharp features and impeccable blond hair smoothed back on her head. When we entered, she stepped around the front desk. Her arms went wide as she hurried toward us. “Victor Morgan. We were waiting for you.”
“Nice to see you, too, Janet,” Victor said. His smile brightened and he clutched her hands.
Janet stepped in, and air-kissed his cheek twice, once on each side. She released him and turned to me. “And who is this delightful creature?”
“Janet, this is Sang Sorenson.”
“Sang,” Janet’s smile warmed. She reached for my hand the same way as she’d grasped for Victor’s. She leaned in, air kissing each cheek. “Thanks for coming,” she said, in a tone that suggested she had been waiting for me to walk in since forever.
It was startling. I didn’t mean to stiffen up, but I suddenly found myself shy. I tried to smile, but I ended up glancing at Victor, nearly pleading for help.
“Sang and I are in desperate need for something deep tissue.” He took my hand, guiding me until I was beside him. “And whatever she wants. It’s her first time.”
