CHAPTER 89

Kevin had long ago resigned himself to the fact that a relationship with Connie – the kind of relationship he wanted and needed – would have its difficult moments. Now, standing in the cold, one more layer of understanding settled upon him. Almost unconsciously, he reached for her hand, found it and the two of them began walking back towards the club where it would be easier to hail a cab. Neither spoke but the silence was not uncomfortable. As Connie breathed an internal sigh of relief that one more small hurdle had been cleared, Kevin let his thoughts drift backwards in time. He didn’t drift very far and his mind didn’t focus on any one singular event, but rather a slide show of sorts that replayed common, day-to-day events of the life they lived together in Orlando. Many would have been bored had they been forced to view Kevin’s visual but he had found the peace and easy contentment he craved in the routine rituals that he and Connie had come to share. She would get the mail, he would take out the trash. She scraped plates and he filled the dishwasher. They washed each other’s backs and hair in the shower. He’d sit in the lanai, barefoot and shirtless, scribbling lyrics on a pad, while she puttered about the yard, planting Shasta daisies and complaining about palmetto bugs, lizards and heat.

Kevin loved touring and performing. He loved the crowds and the adulation. He even loved the business, corrupt as it often was, but these banal interludes at home were what gave his life depth and a sense of reality-based contentment. His real life with Connie was the perfect counterpoint to the unreality of the spotlight. They often disagreed and often argued as a result, but differences of opinion were generally handled with a mutual respect. Kevin had come to enjoy their head bumping and, if truth be told, had deliberately instigated a fair share of their squabbles. He enjoyed the verbal challenges that Connie threw at him. She kept him sharp, not placated, yet instinctively knew when he needed reassurance and when he needed some shit thrown back at him. To Kevin, the wondrous aspect of their jousting was that he never felt threatened by it.

But that was in Orlando. Their separation had created an unfamiliar anxiety in him – a fear of alienation that had been underscored by their lack of communication and the realization that Connie had a mind, a life and history of her own that did not include him. His own life and history had been plastered in magazines and all over the internet. Complete strangers knew the names of his pets, what high school he attended, what his family members did for a living and what kind of car he drove. The world, including the women in his life, had essentially orbited around him. It was a little disconcerting to face the fact that Connie was her own ‘planet’.

He glanced down at her as they approached the club and its well-lit entrance. Connie’s cheeks were pink with cold and he could see her breath forming smoky streams in front of her face. The temperature had dropped considerably. He squeezed her hand gently, a gesture which had come to signal his desire to speak to her.

“It’s late and it’s been a long day. Guess we’d better be getting back to the hotel. You dropped off your bags, right?”

“No. I’m not going back to the hotel…”

They had been walking rather briskly when Kevin froze and Connie felt herself being jerked backwards by her hand, her forward momentum broken by Kevin’s sudden stop. The look on his face was priceless – beyond incredulity.

“What? What do you mean you’re not going with me?”

“ I didn’t say ‘I wasn’t going with you’, Kevin. I said that I’m not going back to the hotel…”

Kevin’s face grew hard and he bent down close enough to her that she could feel his breath in her face. He wasn’t happy.

“Well, I’m going to the hotel, so if you’re going with me, you’ll be going to the hotel, too!”

“Let me rephrase,” Connie began. She was trying to tease a little and help Kevin to relax. It didn’t seem to be working. “I’m not going with you…”

She could see his jawline instantly harden and his nostrils flare with an angry snort. “What the fuck is this shit Connie? Hasn’t today been crappy enough for you?” He had thrown her hand out of his and folded his knuckles into his hips with one sharp movement. Not a good sign. Connie glanced down at the pavement. The toe of Kevin’s boot was tapping on the concrete. When she looked up, she caught a quick glimpse of Carlos. He was shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Kevin wasn’t finished. “Obviously, we have different needs here! All I want…” Suddenly her hand was in his face, effectively stopping his words. “What the fuck….”

“Kevin. Do you know why I was so late to meet you tonight?”

“I’m assuming that you had meetings and shit and your work took precedence over the show….and me!” He was pouting and indignant.

Connie shook her head. “Wrong, dear. You took precedence over the show. Now hail us a cab…”

“What the hell are you talking about Connie? Where are we going?”

Connie placed her hands on her own hips, mimicking his self-righteous posing which caused him to drop his hands to his sides.

“Kevin darling, I don’t want to go to a hotel tonight. Have you forgotten that I lived in New York City? I have an apartment that I still pay rent on every month. I spent a bit of time this evening getting it ready for us. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there, so I had to clean and get some groceries. I also did some shopping for you so you’d have what you needed to survive - like sweats, Tom’s toothpaste, silk boxers and Captain Crunch. That’s why I was late to the show….”

“Oh…”

“I also got several composition books, a box of pencils, a case of beer, a toothbrush – medium bristles, not firm, not soft - two down pillows and two boxes of malted milk balls…”

“Oh…”

“Now, you gonna get us a cab and send your chaperone home, or are we gonna stand out here and get frostbite?”

*****

Carlos opted to return to the club and Kevin stuck one hand up in the air and whistled. In a matter of seconds, they were on their way to the outskirts of the East Village. He could tell that Connie was excited. He wasn’t sure how he felt. He liked seeing her happy and he had to admit that he was curious but it was hard to ignore the tension that knotted his neck. Why did he feel uneasy about this? Was the fact that she had her own place make him a little anxious? Did seeing her with her own friends and realizing that she had kept her apartment make her too independent? He didn’t like where his thoughts were leading him. Their path was childish, chauvinistic and irrational but he couldn’t deny his gut. Somehow, somewhere, Kevin had come to equate trust with openness and commitment with dependence. He knew that there were still doors to Connie’s soul that he had yet to open and it was becoming clear that she wasn’t as dependent on him as he would have liked. He remembered the time in Clearwater when she had been so frightened by the storm and he had found her under the stairs in a state of shock. She had needed him frantically then. No one else. Just him. Kevin stared into his lap, ashamed when he found himself wishing for an unexpected blackout.

“We’re here!”

Kevin raised his eyes and looked out of the window. The cab had stopped in front of a six-story brick building that looked almost industrial in nature. Small, trendy shops lined the streets on either side, as did bare branched maples. The neighborhood was upscale and artsy and there were still people on the streets, even at this late hour. Kevin dutifully handed the cabbie a twenty dollar bill and the couple climbed out of the taxi.

The lobby was simply furnished with a doorman’s desk and sofa. Brass mailboxes were embedded into one wall. The floor was tiled with large marble squares. This bottom floor also contained two offices, both housing attorneys, and two caged elevators that were doorless and fitted with metal gates.

“This used to be a warehouse,” Connie explained. “There are ten apartments here – five on each side of the building. We have to use this elevator on the right. I’m on the top…”

Kevin nodded and followed Connie into the empty cage. She gave him a smile as she hit the button that would set the elevator into motion. Kevin smiled back. Connie was a little charged, as if she was about to present him with some sort of gift. Maybe she was. He was about to get a glimpse of Connie’s ‘other’ life.

As the elevator rose, Kevin rolled his head from side to side, wondering what to expect.

Chapter 90

Kevin hadn’t noticed the small keypad near the elevator buttons until the elevator stopped at the sixth floor and Connie began to punch in a series of numbers. A buzz sounded as a green light flashed behind them.

“Security…” she explained before turning to face the rear of the compartment. “If you don’t put in the right number, no green light, no open door.”

As if on cue, the back elevator wall split and slid apart, opening directly into Connie’s apartment.

“Look, Ma – no keys!” she laughed before stepping inside and flipping the light switch.

Kevin panned the large open loft. It was nothing like he would have expected. The apartment was huge and virtually without walls – more like a studio than a compartmentalized living space. The side that faced the street was all windows – the kind he remembered from his high school, made up of stacked rectangular panes that could be opened individually. They started about four feet from the floor, over a stretch of cast iron radiators, and continued up to the ceiling, which had to be at least sixteen feet high. Micro-mini blinds were embedded in the lower panes in order to afford privacy but the upper panes were open and clear.

Various living functions were spatially designated by furniture placement and scattered carpets only. At the far left end of the space was an open kitchen, glowing with stainless steel and polished granite. The dining area was close by, its parameters fixed by a small stand of plants, including orchids and miniature trees.

“Fred, the doorman, waters them for me,” Connie clarified, as she watched Kevin’s eyes roam.

Kevin nodded distractedly and continued his examination, not moving – just taking it all in. The living area lay directly in front of him and was the most colorful part of the room. It also took up the most space. One overstuffed yellow sofa held court to four similarly stiff armchairs covered in a deep red. An Oriental carpet with a geometric design connected the pieces. The furnishings were elegant and comfortable. Table lamps in a modern design were strategically placed on rosewood tables that held books on their lower shelves. In fact, books were everywhere. They seemed to line every available wall and shelf except for one section of exposed brick which held a flat-screened television above a gas log fireplace. Connie’s workspace took up a small niche to his right and slightly behind him. Here, she housed her computer, desk and….more books.

At the far right of the apartment was the sleeping area, defined by a simple iron bed and complimented with two Stickley night tables, a chest of drawers and a mirrored dresser. This area also contained the only doors visible. One opened into the bathroom and the other two were large closets – one for clothes and one for storage. Another carpet defined this area but it was sisal. The neutral color of the fiber matched the equally neutral bed coverings which had been turned down, revealing pristine white cotton sheets.

Kevin was amazed. This huge amount of open space, completely floored with shiny hardwood, was cozy and inviting despite its lack of walls and industrial overtones. In the cab, he had tried to imagine what Connie’s apartment would be like but had come up with a completely different picture. There was no lace here. No ruffles. No ‘girly-girl’ affectations. Books and plants united the living spaces. The most feminine object that caught his eye upon his quick perusal, was an African violet, full of pink blooms, sitting in a silver-plated cache-pot on the long sill which had been built over the radiators. He was surprised he had even seen it since was dwarfed by other, more impressive plants and – yes…more books.

“Well, what do you think of my inner sanctum?” Connie asked a little awkwardly, searching his face for approval.

Inner sanctum… Kevin wasn’t thrilled with her choice of words. What did that make the house in Orlando? What did that make him? I want to be that sanctuary for you…

“It’s great Connie. Really beautiful…” He smiled when he spoke the words but his eyes seemed guarded. Walking deeper into the apartment Kevin stopped and took in the room from a different angle. “I can’t believe it. It’s as if you never left here…” Once again, he paused to roll his head from side to side.

“Does your neck hurt?”

“No. I’m okay. Just a little tired.”

“Let’s go to bed then…”

*****

Connie stood at the sink and splashed her face with cool water. Something was ‘off’ but she wasn’t sure what. There was an unmistakable tension in the air. Maybe it’s hard to really relax when you’re touring. Maybe it’s just been a really bad day for him and he’s exhausted. Maybe it’s being here, in my apartment. Nothing here is familiar to him… She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had done something wrong. Thinking back on other times that tension had filled the spaces between them, she began to realize a faint pattern. Kevin could get very edgy when people and events in his life became unpredictable. He required a certain amount of foresight. It made him feel secure. He liked to know what was going on in his world at all times – everything neat and in its place. Any deviation from his norm required discussion and his input. Perhaps this was because his professional life, by its nature, was so full of the unexpected and often out of his control that he felt compelled to hold fast to the reins of his personal life. Today had not been a good day for him and judging from what had been said, the days preceding her arrival had not been great, either.

Connie judged that her apartment had given him a small shock. Knowing Kevin, she guessed that this was some sort of male territorial thing. The house in Florida was ‘his’. The hotel rooms were essentially ‘his’. Both gave him a subconscious upper hand. But this place was ‘hers’ and in order for him to feel truly comfortable here, he would have to make it ‘his’, too. On a primal level, Kevin would have to mark and claim his territory and Connie guessed that she would also be marked and claimed in the process….again. This situation was different though. She had the control in this place by default and knew that Kevin would not make the demands here that he might make anyplace else. She would have to relinquish herself voluntarily. That would be her test.

When Connie came out of the bathroom, the lights had been dimmed. She stood still, watching as Kevin lifted objects from her dresser, examined them and then set them back in place. She could see his reflection in the mirror that was fastened to the wall behind the waist-high chest and was slightly amused at his exploration. He didn’t seem to notice her as he ran his fingers over the cut glass of a small perfume bottle and then pushed his thumb down the teeth of a tortoise-shell comb. Connie tried to imagine the sound that the hard plastic teeth would make as they sprang back into place as his thumb passed – a tinkling sound, like the high notes on a piano. It saddened her a little that she had to think so hard to remember such a common and negligible tone.

His eyes wandered to a small lamp that rested at the edge of the chest. A silk scarf lay across the top of the parchment shade, its swirled blues and greens now dulled by the lack of light. Kevin’s fingers began to play on the long scarf, running up and down the folds as if measuring the quality and strength of the translucent length of silk. Something about his intensity caused Connie’s breath to catch in her throat. His expression was not curious, but deadly serious – almost grim. As she continued to stare, he gently pulled the scarf from the shade and held it in both of his hands, grasping each end and stretching the fabric taut, studying it as if he was trying to make some sense of its abstract pattern. Then, without warning, Kevin quickly and forcefully twisted the ends of the scarf around his fists and snapped the silk into a tight band, instantly turning the innocuous rectangle into a sinister and potentially lethal instrument. As Connie watched, Kevin’s eyes slowly rose and met hers in the mirror. He had known she was there, watching him the entire time…

*

What is she thinking? She looks at the scarf and then back at me. I can see the questions in her eyes. Will she speak? Is she afraid that I want to hurt her? Will she always be afraid of that? I told her. I told her that I didn’t get off on that. Does she know the difference between humiliation and submission? Between surrendering out of trust instead of fear? Yes, she knows…. She has to know.

*

What is he doing? What does he want? He’s studying me – evaluating. Another test… He needs reassurance. He’s torn – I can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t want to demand or demean but he needs…what? Control? Yes. But his reassurance won’t come from him taking control this time. It will come from my giving him control.

*

She surrendered on our last night together in Orlando. The night we… The night I…

Sodomy. Such an ugly word for an act that can be so beautiful. A new connection where pleasure is almost an afterthought. God, Connie. Please don’t judge me. Don’t compare me to him. I don’t want to hurt you. We’ve been apart and I’m empty. The quickie at the venue was a release but I need intimacy. I need to fill myself up with you, not just pour myself into you. You can feel what I want, can’t you? Goddamn, I’m so hungry… I feel lost…

*

He’s pleading. Jesus, it’s like some sort of mind meld. This is the hidden Kevin I see now. No crowds, no business. No acting like he’s expected to act. He’s giving me a huge gift – his secret self – the Kevin I’ve only caught glimpses of. How can a man be so strong and so vulnerable at the same time? He could take what he wants from me. He could demand it and I would give it to him willingly.

He’s offering me something that Trevor would have never considered – something that I doubt he has offered before. Power. The power to give or deny. The choice to control what will happen or to return the control to him.

*

Their eyes were locked, reading each other’s needs and trepidations. No words were spoken. No words were necessary. Words would have been a distraction.

Connie broke his gaze and looked away for a moment as if she were making a decision. Then she turned her back to him and began to slowly remove her clothes. Kevin watched as Connie uncovered her body in the faded light. He movements were deliberate, yet languid. Before too long, she had stripped down to the green panties. Kevin felt like a voyeur as her thumbs disappeared under the elastic and began to push the green silk down her long legs, revealing the curves of her buttocks which were deepened by lamp-lit shadows.

Connie turned to face him, now completely nude and vulnerable. Kevin was still fully clothed. He hadn’t even removed his leather coat. The rectangle of silk tightened in his hands and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then Connie started to walk toward him. Her nipples had hardened into tempting treats. What will she do? Will she kiss me? Touch me?…

Connie did neither of those things. She stood if front of Kevin and glanced quickly at the scarf, still stretched between his hands. Then she raised her arms and pressed the insides of her wrists together.

Her eyes never left his face as he began to bind her hands together.