The Underground Part 16

"I'll be right back," he whispered to Gladys who nodded to acknowledge him but kept her eyes on the performers. "Men's room."

There was a bar just outside the exit from his section and he quickly borrowed a pen and napkin on which he scribbled: Joe Merino, Omni Hotel, Room 304, 8 p.m. tomorrow. I'll explain everything. His heart raced as he folded the napkin into a palm-sized nugget. He scurried to the door he knew she should emerge from. There were a few others milling about in the theater hallways, all focused on cell phone calls.

He stared, unfaltering, at the door. He couldn't worry about what Gladys would think if he was gone too long. He would feign illness if need be. He had found Shayla, and hoped it wasn't too late. It was as though he could feel her excusing herself before she daintily walked, ever so slowly, to minimize disturbance as she made her way to the exit. Was he imagining this? He looked at his cell phone and saw he had been outside for five minutes, but it felt like an hour. He would give her another five minutes and then go back inside, knowing she didn't want to see him.

A moment later, the door opened and out she came. As soon as the theater door closed behind her, she stopped. They stood apart, staring at one another. He wasn't sure how to begin. This was certainly not the place to describe the jungle he had been through most of the last year. He cautiously walked toward her. Once he was close enough, he spoke gently.

"I believe this is yours," he said as held out the napkin to her. His hand jittered slightly with a nervousness that he did his best to harness. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to inhale her inviting perfume, but he wasn't sure she would want him anymore. He held his hand out for what seemed too long, waiting for her to take the napkin.

She made sure her hand brushed his. "I guess it is," she said taking the wadded napkin. Touching his fingers rea.s.sured her that this was really him, that those were absolutely the calloused hands of Nathaniel DeLuca, made rough by years at the Cambridge Public Works. They were also the hands that held her so intimately and touched her with such pa.s.sion. She had prayed for his safe return, dreamed about it, but she had stopped believing, and now he was right in front of her.

"You enjoying the performance?" he asked her.

"Very much so, but I should get back to it," she said before reluctantly turning away. The reality of his touch gave her a chill as she turned toward the ladies room, clutching the napkin tightly. Only when she reached the privacy of a bathroom stall did she dare to open her palm and reveal the message he had bestowed.

She wondered why it said Joe Merino. Tomorrow night would provide her with the answer. Room 304 at the Omni Hotel. The thought of being alone with Nathaniel stole her breath, momentarily, as she fought back the tears. She closed her eyes and focused on the evening at hand, as best she could before returning to sit next to the man she had promised eternity to only weeks earlier.

"You okay, my love?" Michael whispered to her when she sat back down.

"Oh yes," she said, trying to stay present. Michael took her hand and she wanted to pull it away and tell him her heart belonged to another man. As he lovingly caressed her fingers, she squeezed his hand for just a moment, knowing that it was necessary. She could only think about Nathaniel. Why was he there? She looked at him for the remainder of the performance, as the swell of beautiful voices carried them across the balcony to each other. She glanced at Michael, from time to time, to see if he noticed her eyes weren't focused on the stage, but he was enraptured with the opera. As Shayla looked at Nathaniel, she remembered his touch and that perfect evening in the hotel as they made love again and again, before he disappeared. She couldn't stop herself from wanting more, and knew she had to pull herself back to reality, and to Michael. The deafening applause at the end of the performance grounded her, and she began to clap, too, returning her eyes to the stage at last.

"That was unbelievable," Michael said. "I've never seen such a perfect operatic performance and I've seen La Traviata many times." His voice slid into a perfect Italian trill when he mentioned the t.i.tle. She knew that Nathaniel wouldn't have said it the same way, and suddenly Michael sounded pretentious.

"I'm so pleased we came," she said. If he only knew how pleased! "Do you mind if we skip the reception?"

"Whatever you'd like, my love. Are you not feeling well?"

"Just tired," she said, as they made their way to the exit. She didn't know if Nathaniel would be at the benefactor reception, but if he were, she didn't think she keep herself away from him. And if paparazzi were in the vicinity, that could spell trouble. After all, he had been missing for so long.

In the limousine back to her apartment, she wished she could drop off Michael at his place and go home alone but that was impossible. She held Michael's hand, but looked out the window, imagining Nathaniel's pleas for forgiveness as he begged her to understand why he left, as he begged her to understand why he needed her back. She saw herself protesting, but only briefly, before she gave herself to Nathaniel, in every way.

"You were the most beautiful woman there," Michael said, reaching to gently move her chin toward his.

He kissed her with a pa.s.sion that felt genuine, and she let herself go and kissed him back, knowing what he wanted. She wanted it too, just not from him.

"I want to make love to you," he said, as they pulled up to her apartment, and she smiled somehow knowing she had to put on a show.

She unlocked her apartment and as soon as they were inside, and kissed her again.

"Take me," she said, pulling him into the bedroom as she quickly slipped her dress over her head, in desperation to feel Nathaniel, not Michael, against her body.

"I love you," he said.

"Don't talk," she whispered. She didn't want to hear his voice. She wanted Nathaniel. She turned off the light and pulled him into her, telling herself that he was Nathaniel, until she believed it and moaned with the success of a deceitful pleasure. Her private reminiscence of Nathaniel was always the true beacon behind her o.r.g.a.s.ms. She pushed the scents and sounds of Michael from her mind and kept her eyes shut. Michael's movements quickened with a pa.s.sionate force that her body enjoyed.

Her mind was focused elsewhere, on someone else. She knew that no matter where Nathaniel had been and why he was gone, it didn't matter. Shayla wanted him back.

Just hours earlier, Nathaniel thought Gladys might be a potential spouse, but as she kissed him goodnight with intent, he felt nothing. He thought she was attractive, but felt no desire of any kind.

"I'd love to come up and see your room," she said quietly after finally pulling away, "but I've got to be up early in the morning. Besides, I don't like to mix business with pleasure, and you've still got three more days on my watch. After that, it's another story."

"I understand," he said, relieved, and zipped out of her car and into his hotel.

He slept fitfully, dreaming of Shayla all night, waking up hard. He wanted her so badly. The next day it took everything he had to stay focused on the job. The women argued more than the previous days as they tried to come up with different strategies to take Archibald to the next level.

"You look tired, Joe," Gladys said during a meeting break, when the two were alone in the conference room.

"I didn't sleep well," he said. "It was such a great performance. My mind wouldn't quiet down, I guess," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said, as though it was her fault.

"No, I had an amazing time," he said quickly. "I'm so grateful you invited me. I just need a little sleep."

"Well, you shall have the evening to yourself. Tonight is girls' night out," she said, Nathaniel's heart sprouted wings. He wouldn't have to make awkward excuses about being unavailable. "Have a wonderful time!" he said. But he was pulsating with thoughts of the evening ahead with Shayla.

Nathaniel left work at 6 p.m. and walked toward his hotel, feeling uneasy. He was on guard for the Tasers, as there always seem to be a rash of them around this time of day. Today there were none. Maybe it was a lucky sign. He pa.s.sed the Blue Cafe, a bar that reminded him of the Black Hole. He ducked inside and felt comforted by the divey interior and decided to grab a bite. It would be better than going straight to his hotel and pacing for two hours.

He sat on a worn, red vinyl stool near the bar and it gave a loud squeak, causing several guys to turn toward him.

"Sorry," he said, as they stared with a hint of disdain. He was dressed for the office, and everyone else wore blue collar garb, some with the Washington Public Works insignia. "I'm one of you!" he wanted to say, as they turned away. He felt so alone as he turned his attention to the Webavision. The Queen's face smiled broadly as she answered an interviewer's questions. She talked about how successful the POAs were and declared that marriage rates were rising. He couldn't stand to watch and turned away. He started to worry about Shayla. What if she didn't show up? He reminded himself that if she hadn't wanted to see him, she never would have walked out of the opera's first act. Curiosity might only keep her there long enough to get an explanation, but at least she would show up.

Nathaniel didn't know what to tell her, but he wouldn't lie, even if he didn't reveal everything. He needed her love, her forgiveness, and the warmth and peace he hoped she would offer. Even if they had to be secretive again, that would be okay. It wasn't ideal, but they had lived through it before.

Chapter 28.

Shayla told Michael that evening that she needed some time alone.

"But we made these plans so long ago," Michael said. "And my Uncle is making us dinner. Can you have your alone time tomorrow?" he said. It was the first hint of impatience he had ever expressed, and she couldn't blame him.

"I'm just not up to it," she said. "A rain check. Dinner at the Palace." This would be a rare opportunity, and Shayla hoped it would make up for the last minute cancellation. Yes, she felt badly, but no, nothing was going to keep her from Nathaniel at the Omni Hotel at 8.

"I'm disappointed," he said, and she could tell he was beyond disappointment as she hung up the phone. But she pushed thoughts of Michael from her mind as she rushed to the Omni hotel. She was early, but knew he would be there. Disguised in a hat and sungla.s.ses, she walked through the lobby with her head down. It was five minutes to 8 p.m. when she knocked on the door.

"Shayla," he said, and she felt a flutter in her stomach at his voice speaking her name. A well of emotion surged in her as she stepped inside, pulled the door closed and fell into his arms. Her fantasy of making him explain or apologize before she took him back wasn't even a whisper in her mind. She needed him.

He hugged her, holding her close so she could feel his heart beating as if it were in her own chest. Her love for him burst into its second bloom as he kissed her and they stumbled toward the bed, quickly removing one another's clothes with a primal pa.s.sion. Desire boiled inside her belly.

"I missed you," she said.

"I'm so sorry," he said, as he wordlessly unb.u.t.toned his shirt. She took him in with her eyes before they kissed again. She felt the roughness of the skin on his hands, like a residue of his years at the Cambridge Public Works, and it made her want him more.

She led his hand to the front of her blue jeans and he began to unb.u.t.ton them.

"Lie down," he said as he helped her remove them, along with her underwear that revealed a triangle of softness that she pulled his hand toward. Shayla groaned with pleasure, as his fingers explored her with the perfect touch.

She reached to touch his hardness with her hand, and gripped it as she moved up and down the shaft with an undeniable urgency. After all the aching nights of dreams and fantasies about reuniting, she couldn't believe they were together.

"I need you now," he said suddenly, pulling her hand away from him. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted any man.

She lay back and opened herself to him. He entered her slowly at first and his love for her made him move with a rhythm that satisfied them both. She bellowed as a ripple of ecstasy tore through her over and over and he shuddered with it too as she felt his hot, wet pulsation flood her body.

They collapsed in a beautiful exhaustion, entwined in one another's arms. They were peaceful. They were complete. They lay silently for a long while, caressing each other. Shayla was afraid to speak. The moment was so perfect and she wanted it to last forever. She was afraid of what he might say. She was afraid that something might keep them apart.

Still, she wanted to know. Why had he disappeared? Why did he give her a note the night before, like she was a stranger? And why did it have another man's name?

"I've missed you so much," she said, finally breaking the silence, meeting his eyes, as she basked in the warmth of his arms. "Why did you leave?"

His forehead reached down to softly meet hers. Their eyes locked together, as though averting this gaze might pull them apart all over again. Shayla finally broke away, carefully and slowly, not wanting to separate herself from the pull of love that was as strong as the moment she first felt it.

"It wasn't my choice," he said solemnly.

"What happened?" she said, her heart beating quickly as she feared it might not be easy to hear.

"You can't tell anyone what I'm going to tell you or that you even saw me. Our lives are at stake."

"I promise," she said quickly.

"Especially not your mother," he added.

"Definitely not my mother," she said, even as she worried about the ramifications of keeping that promise.

"I was kidnapped. I couldn't contact you and didn't even know where I was."

Shayla's eyes filled with tears. She listened as he recounted select pieces of his journey to the Underground, their mission, and how he came to D.C. as Joe Merino. He spoke slowly, stopping at the evening of the opera.

"I couldn't take it when you left," she said. "I had to leave the Public Works. I had to leave Cambridge."

She didn't want to tell him about Michael. Not yet.

"I'm never going to let you go again," Nathaniel declared.

"I love you, Nathaniel," she whispered, surprised at how easily those words came, and how much she meant them. "But I have to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything."

"You were gone for a long time. I thought you might be dead. I was horribly depressed and my mother pushed me. I'm dating someone."

"Is that who you were with at the opera?" Nathaniel said, as his caressing hand moved away.

She nodded, afraid that they wouldn't be able to move past the next thing she had to say, but she knew there was no way around disclosure. "He's my fiancee, actually. His name is Michael. He's a wonderful man. But he's not you."

The idea of Michael sat in the silence between them.

"The moment I saw you at the opera... " Shayla said.

"I'm sorry about all of this. I really am," he said, taking her hand.

"I knew right then, looking out across the opera house beside my fiancee, that I only wanted to be with you. Even before I knew what you had been through," she said.

He smiled and stroked her face.

She continued, "It sounds like it was awful."

He nodded solemnly. "I haven't spoken to Brigg either since the day I left. I think about him all the time," he said looking straight ahead, remembering their carefree days as kids.

"We'll need to think about this," she said.

"We've been silent before, and we'll do it again if we need to," he said, caressing her bare shoulder. "At least now we can make love in a bed," he joked as he drew her near.

She nodded. "But we must be careful. More so now than ever before," she said. And he nodded back.

They held each other closely through the night, until Shayla awoke at 5 so she could get home before work.

"I don't want to leave. I'm afraid you won't be here later," she added.

"I promise I'll be here. At least until tomorrow. Then, I need to go back to Kansas City."

"Unless a certain Steelco executive calls up Kelly Boys and requests your services," she said.

"Really?" he asked. "Unless you need a meeting scribe specifically, I can't see how that would work."

"I'm the CEO, remember? We always use temps, and I will put together a profile of what I need that caters specifically to you," she said.

"That would be incredible," he said.

"I'll see you tonight," she said. "8 p.m. here?"

"Yes, we'll have room service and a full evening together," he added. They kissed once more, and Shayla tore herself away.

"h.e.l.lo, my lovely wife-to-be. How are you today?" he asked with his usual adoration. It was his routine midday call. Shayla wasn't ready to deal with Michael, but avoiding him would make matters worse.

"Hi, darling," she managed, the words sticking in her throat. "Sorry, I was just looking at a finance report and the numbers startled me," she said, as she realized some explanation of her silence was required. Hiding her new reality was more difficult than she had antic.i.p.ated.

"Nothing bad I hope?"