her with gathering, terrible speed, like a train hurtling towards a gap in the line.
I’m going to see Robbie again.
Except he wasn’t Robbie any more: he was a world-famous billionaire. And he hated her.
She managed a small, ‘Why?’
‘Is something the matter?’ Rita asked. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
Lana squeezed her eyes shut. So she’d be meeting Robbie again–so what? It had to happen sooner or later and she’d just have to deal with it. She didn’t have to talk to him; she didn’t even have to look at him. Except when she thought of the pictures she’d tried to avoid seeing but ultimately couldn’t resist–pictures showing his smile, his chin, his kind eyes, his arms–she didn’t know how she would manage. She wanted him so much it stopped her heart.
Rita interrupted her chain of thought. ‘I’m serious, Lana, what is it? ‘
‘Nothing,’ she told her agent. ‘Shooting’s almost over and it’s been an exhausting few weeks.’
‘OK. You know I don’t believe you.’
Lana ran a hand over her crisp white bed linen–Cole’s staff were perfectionists in every task and never risked a thing. Her fingers were shaking.
‘I used to know the guy behind it,’ she found herself saying. She closed her eyes. ‘A long time ago.’
‘What guy?’
‘Robert St Louis.’ It was good to finally speak his name, though it trembled in her throat. ‘He owns the Orient.’
‘A ha!’ exclaimed Rita, missing her friend’s tone. ‘There’s a history there, I knew it. No wonder you’re acting so shook up. Was he good?’
Yes, he was good. He was so, so good.
Lana harnessed her emotion. ‘It was nothing, really,’ she lied. ‘Just a fling.’ Forget the rest of it. Forget that she had been deeply in love with him. Forget that he had saved her life. He might take the blame for it, but she knew better. The decision she had made that terrible night had been the truly unspeakable one.
‘He’s a little bit to die for,’ said Rita, a smile in her voice. ‘You are one hell of a lucky lady, Ms Falcon.’
Lana stood up and went to the window. She looked out at her world, the perimeter of Cole’s mansion as solid and unyielding as it had ever been. She would not think about Robbie today, she would not let herself. Later, lying in bed, her thoughts would turn to him as they had for the past ten years, only this time with a sense of inevitable collision, like two cars running head-on in the night.
Next summer. Seven months.
After the women hung up, Lana lay down on her bed. She stared up at the blank ceiling for what felt like hours, listening to the quiet.
Belleville, Ohio, 1997
Every day for the next two months, Robbie turned up at the trailer park, wanting to talk to her. The first few times she walked straight past him, but after he followed her one afternoon and discovered exactly where she lived, he became harder to ignore.
It was a Friday and she had finished late at school. She knew Lester would be angry. No matter that it was her fifteenth birthday today, a secret she hadn’t told anyone.
She saw Robbie straight away, leaning against the side of the trailer, his dark hair falling over his eyes. He wore old blue jeans and a grey T-shirt, his strong arms bronzed by the sun.
‘What do you want? ‘
‘Finally she talks to me.’ He grinned. For the fifteen-millionth time she noticed the dimple in his chin.
Laura couldn’t tear her eyes from his. She had become accustomed to his handsomeness but still she couldn’t get used to the way it made her feel, like there were a thousand stars exploding in her blood.
Just then the door to the trailer burst open and Lester loomed into view, a bottle of beer in one hand and a smoke in the other. Her brother hadn’t washed or shaved in days, his skin and hair, now worn in a straggly long ponytail that lapped over his right shoulder, were grey with dirt and there were sunken purple shadows under both his eyes. His chest was bare and alarmingly thin, the ribs jutting out like a prehistoric thing.
‘Get in here, bitch,’ he ordered, ‘there’s things t’do.’ He took a swig from the bottle.
Laura’s eyes switched to Robbie, just in time to see his shocked expression. Lester’s gaze travelled sluggishly to the other man.
‘Who the fuck’s this?’ he snarled.
Robbie took control. ‘Robert Lewis,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘You fucking my baby sister?’
It was an appalling question. Laura pushed past her brother and into the trailer, desperate to get away. How dare Lester say such a thing? She felt horrified when she thought of sweet, handsome Robbie and the dirt and grime of her own life. He would never want to see her again, that much was for sure.
‘How could you?’ she stormed, after Lester had slammed the door shut.
‘Lookin’ out for you, is all,’ he growled, wiping his hand across his mouth and slumping into a chair, its stuffing escaping at the seams. ‘There’s things a boy like that wants t’do, things you gotta look out for.’
He eyed her greedily. She was aware of how her body had changed over the past years–the growing fullness of her breasts and the pinch of her waist. Her chestnut hair had grown longer and thicker, her green eyes wide. Men stared at her when she went into town.
Laura was afraid: her brother liked to see her naked and he liked to hit her. Soon he would want to touch her. She knew what he did with those people he brought back in the middle of the night, severe things, painful things. Soon he would want to do them to her. The thought made bile swim in her throat.
Realising she could not go against him–that she did not want to risk the punishment–she fixed him his dinner and kept quiet. She could not eat a thing herself, could not stop thinking of Robbie Lewis and how whatever friendship they might have had would now be over. Why could nothing good ever last? It was her. She ruined everything.
A little over an hour later, when Lester had escaped to his nearest drinking hole, she stepped outside to clear her head. The trailer park was silent and dark, a warm wind rustling through the trees. She closed her eyes and thought of Arlene.
Happy birthday, Laura, she told herself. This year, you’re going to change your life.
