Aleatha Romig - Behind His Eyes

A single moment of misunderstanding can be so poisonous that it can make us forget the many loveable moments spent together.

—Melchor Lim

“I won that one,” Tony said, as he handed Tim the pool cue. “You’d better keep the winning streak going against Tom in this next game, or I may have to look for a new vice president.”

Tom heard Tony’s jovial tone and joined the fun. “It’s all right, Tim: Tony’ll give you a good reference,” he laughed, “as long as the company isn’t looking for a pool shark.”

Tim smiled. “Oh, I’m not worried. You haven’t seen my mad skills. I’m pretty sure I’ll be gainfully employed come tomorrow.”

Brent nudged Tony and whispered, “I like his confidence.”

“Yeah, the kid’s got something. I’m glad Courtney let you invite him.”

Brent shrugged.

Eli called from the poker table on the other side of the room. “Hey, who’s ready to lose some money? Chance and I have the chips ready.”

Brent cocked his eyebrow toward Tony. “I think it’s time to show them who’s the real master of the cards.”

“Maybe we should go easy on them?” Tony suggested.

“Nah,” they both said in unison.

When they neared the poker table, Tony hesitated. “Deal a few hands without me. I’m gonna go upstairs for a minute.”

“There’s more beer behind the bar,” Brent offered.

Tony looked down at his nearly full bottle. “I’m good. It’s your wife’s great cooking—I’m gonna go grab some of that cheese dip.”

Brent eyed him suspiciously. “Sure, you know the way, but hurry back after you check on your gal. We’ll be waiting.”

Tony stared at his friend for a moment. His gal? Not even close. “Companion.” That was the description he’d decided upon. “Whatever.” He shrugged. “I like cheese dip.”

With that, he set his beer on the nearest table and walked up the stairs. As he rounded the hallway toward the kitchen, the sound of voices stilled his progress. From his vantage, he could only hear the women. All at once, MaryAnn’s voice prevailed as she went on at some length about one of Eli’s clients—some movie star who apparently had a body to die for. Tony waited and listened as other voices added their opinions. With each passing comment that wasn’t Claire’s, Tony thought more and more about her restraint. He wasn’t sure that the woman he acquired in Atlanta would have remained quiet for so long. The longer her voice remained absent, the more his newfound pride gave way to a growing wave of panic. What if she wasn’t speaking because she wasn’t there? What if she’d found a way to leave—a way of escape? Would she do that?

Determinedly, he turned the corner, hoping for visual confirmation of her presence. Though she was sitting facing out to the backyard, he immediately saw her profile. Nestled in the corner of the wicker loveseat, she was tracing the rim of her wine glass with her finger and listening as everyone discussed the sexy movie star. As he watched, she kept her eyes focused on the women and attentively followed the conversation. For a split second he thought of the woman he met at the Red Wing. The two Claires seemed worlds apart. It wasn’t just appearance, although this Claire was toner, tanner, and blonder—all qualities he appreciated. The streaks of yellow that highlighted her hair were probably his favorite change; that’s why he’d offered to take her to Chicago. The sun would soon lose its intensity, and that blonde would need help. This Claire was also more refined and genteel: she didn’t burst into conversations or talk excessively. Well, she did talk more when they were alone, but the woman on the sunporch knew her role. Just as he was about to step further into the kitchen, he heard her name.

“So, Claire, what’s your opinion? He’s pretty hot, isn’t he?” There was something about Bonnie’s voice that grated on Tony’s nerves. He wished that Eli and MaryAnn could have made the trip without these tagalongs.

Tony saw Claire’s smile; it wasn’t as genuine as the one she flashed him earlier in the car, but that didn’t detract from its beauty. She had no idea he was watching or listening as she answered, “Oh, yes, he’s hot! But I haven’t seen the movie.” Looking toward MaryAnn, she apologized: “I’m sorry. I’m just not much of a moviegoer.”

Tony knew that was true now, but when he’d watched her in Atlanta, she used to go to the movies frequently with her friends. He remembered taking her to a movie—their private viewing—about a month ago. He quickly pushed the memory away. It wasn’t as pleasant as it had once been.

“Is Tony?” Bonnie pried. “Is he a moviegoer? What do you two like to do?”

Before Claire could answer, Sue chimed in. “Well, let me tell you—I saw the movie last week. It isn’t Tim’s kind of movie, so I went with a friend …”

Tony quit listening as an arm brushed his waist. Turning, he saw Courtney as she leaned toward him and whispered, “So, where did you find her?”

“What?”

Courtney stood back and looked him straight in the eye. “She’s not your type,” her serious expression turned joyous, “and that’s a good thing. I like her a lot.”

“You do? And what do you mean—my type? I didn’t know I had a type.”

“Well, you do, and most of them wouldn’t be caught dead sitting on my sunporch chatting. Claire’s sweet. I’ll admit, when Brent told me that you took her to New York for business, I was skeptical.” She put her hand on his. “I mean, you know we care about you. It’s just that, well, some of the women you’ve dated—”

Tony interrupted, “So, you’re now telling me that you don’t approve of my choices?” Though his words could be considered accusatory, his tone was soft and playful.

“Well, it probably isn’t my place, but someone has to keep you in line.” Her smile twinkled in her blue eyes. “Claire’s young, but I think she might be a keeper. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Look at you. You’re up here checking on her. What’s the matter, are you afraid she’s gonna learn some of your dark secrets and bolt?” Courtney leaned closer. “Don’t worry, she’s safe with us.”

“I wasn’t checking on her. I-I was getting something to eat.” As soon as the words rolled off his tongue, he realized the food had all been put away.

“Oh, my mistake.” Her grin clearly displayed her disbelief of his cover story. “I guess it was your swooning and eavesdropping that had me confused.”

Courtney didn’t know how wrong she was, or perhaps why she was wrong. Tony was checking on her—her presence and her behavior. After all, it was the first time he’d allowed her this much freedom with anyone other than his house staff, and it was more than a bit disconcerting. Even when they were out at fundraisers, or she was shopping, she was never with anyone long enough to discuss her situation. He sure as hell didn’t want her discussing it now. He shifted his glance back to Courtney who’d quickly moved to the refrigerator. As she opened the large door, she asked, “Now, what was it that you wanted to eat?”

He knew he’d been caught; there was no reason to go on with the charade. Laughingly, he replied, “Don’t go to any bother. I think I’m fine.”

Claire must have heard the sound of their voices; when he turned back toward the porch she was looking right at him. Her lips smiled; however, her eyes questioned—seeking his approval. Without thinking, he smiled. Claire’s shoulders relaxed as she placed her glass on the table, still looking in his direction, and started to stand. Shaking his head, he waved her off. Obediently, she picked up her glass and sat back against the cushion. He’d heard enough of the conversation to know she was performing well, and he didn’t want to interrupt the ladies’ discussion.

When he looked back at Courtney, she was staring at him.

Before she could speak, he said, “Um, I’m going back downstairs.”

“Yes, you do that. I hope you liked your snack.”

If it were almost anyone else, Tony would have been upset—but not with Courtney. He truly did value her and Brent’s friendship. When he told Claire they were some of his closest friends, he’d been sincere. There was something about Courtney that lit up a room. While others seemed nervous or apprehensive in Tony’s presence, she never did. He admired her for that.

Walking toward the lower level, he thought about Courtney’s assessment of Claire. It both puzzled and pleased him. He’d been apprehensive about bringing Claire to this barbeque—not that he doubted her ability to perform; over the past almost six months she’d improved exponentially. It was more a concern that Courtney would see through the facade. The fact that she didn’t and she approved of Claire was food for thought.

He entered the lower level just in time to watch Tim lift his pool cue and point. “Eight ball, corner pocket.”

Seconds later, the black ball bounced from one bumper to the next, successfully avoiding the scattered striped balls, and fell effortlessly into the corner hole. Shaking his head, Tom said, “I believe I’ve just been schooled by the schoolboy.”

Feeling easier about Claire’s behavior, Tony slapped Tim on the back. “Good job, I believe you can be assured your position is safe. Just don’t start thinking you can challenge me to a game of eight ball to move higher in Rawlings. I’m not planning on handing over the reins any day soon.”

The evening sky began to darken as everyone sat around Brent’s fire pit. As much as Tony enjoyed the camaraderie of the day, he couldn’t stop thinking about getting Claire home and telling her what an amazing job she’d done. Yes, telling wasn’t the only thing on his mind. He fully intended on showing her. It wasn’t a plan of appreciation. She’d done what she needed to do. It was a plan of positive reinforcement. In a few short hours, she’d seemed to charm not only Courtney, but all of his friends.