25. Raven

25

RAVEN

"O h my God, Ray, your gorgeous hair!"

I'm shocked by CJ's reaction when she answers the door to the mansion in the Austin suburb.

Until—

She looks me up and down and her jaw drops. "Oh my God… You had sex, didn't you?"

"How am I supposed to give you shit about mentioning my hair when you follow up with that?" I walk in through the door that CJ holds open into a foyer that puts my house to shame.

A gorgeous golden retriever nudges me for pets. I slide my hand over his silky head. "What's your name?"

"That's Francis," CJ says.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?" I look around. "My God… This place is a freaking mansion."

She cocks her head. "You're one to talk. You live in a mansion."

"I live in a sprawling ranch house. It's not the same thing."

CJ closes the door and leans in. "So who is he?"

My chest warms. "Who's who?"

"The guy you had sex with. It's written all over your face."

This is really bizarre. CJ and I haven't seen each other in how many years? And she thinks she knows that I had sex?

The fact that she's right…

I swallow. "I didn't have sex, CJ."

CJ furrows her brow. "I can always tell. It's my superpower."

"Then your superpower is off today."

"Okay… If you say so, Ray." CJ purses her lips. "Maybe your new hairstyle threw me. What moved you to chop it all off?"

I run my hands over my scalp. Guess there's no more avoiding the subject. I forgot how blunt CJ can be.

"Actually, it wasn't my choice," I say. "I'm recovering from cancer."

CJ slaps her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God, Ray, I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

I shake my head. "Please don't make a big deal out of it. I would have told you over the phone, but I…"

She nods slowly. "I told you that my dad had just died from cancer and you didn't want to double bum me out."

"That, and it just seemed like something I should tell you in person. Sorry if I gave you a shock."

She cracks an uneasy smile. "And I'm sorry for being a dumbass. Assuming you shaved your gorgeous head of hair for the aesthetic."

"Are you suggesting I can't pull it off?" I ask. "I could always start a death metal band, purchase an all-leather wardrobe, really embrace the whole thing."

That gets a laugh out of her. "Glad to see the chemo didn't take out your sense of humor." She leans in, her eyes narrowing. "I'm still convinced you had sex."

Damn, she's good.

"Who would want to have sex with me in this condition?"

"Cancer patients can have sex."

I can't help bursting into laughter at that one. She's the same old Ceej. Instead of asking me about my cancer, she's more concerned with my sex life.

And honestly, I'm happy to not dwell on the last few years of misery.

"What's so funny?" she asks.

"Cancer patients are doing what they can to stay alive. They're usually so ill from treatment that sex is the last thing on their mind."

She wiggles her eyebrows. "Well, it's obviously on your mind, because you had sex, Raven. Don't try to tell me you didn't."

I roll my eyes. "This isn't high school anymore, Ceej. That doesn't work."

She purses her lips. "Your cheeks are flushed, you have a permanent smile on your face, and you just look… I don't know… Satisfied."

I force myself to frown. "I am satisfied. I spent the last couple years fighting for my life, and I'm in remission now. My brother's bone marrow worked. I'm going to be okay. I'm going to live a long life. I'm absolutely thrilled about that. I think you might just be mistaking the fact that I'm ecstatic to be alive for something else."

She tilts her head, regards me, studies me.

Silence reigns for a few moments, and just when I'm sure she's not going to say another thing?—

"Maybe…" She crosses her arms and smirks. "I still think you had sex though."

"Do you honestly think a guy would have me without a head of hair?"

"Raven, you've always been gorgeous. Having no hair doesn't change that. So you lost a few pounds too. So what? I don't look like you on my best day."

That's a crock, and CJ knows it. She's a beautiful woman, with reddish-brown hair and amazing hazel eyes. She's not as tall as I am, and slightly curvier, but I have basically no curves right now because of all the weight I've lost. They'll return, but I've never been hugely curvy. I'm long and lean with a flat belly and good-sized breasts. "You're just as gorgeous as I am, we both know it. So show me around this mansion of yours."

"God, I wish it were mine." She looks around the foyer. "It belongs to this richer-than-God family. The dad is some high-powered lawyer, and he's hardly ever home. He travels a lot. The mom doesn't work, but she's always got something going all day. Whether it's a meeting of the Junior League, the school board, some kind of charity event… She's never home. The kids are in private school, and I take them in the morning and pick them up and then make sure they get a snack."

"You mean you don't cook them dinner too?"

She shrugs. "Sometimes I have to. I make a mean box of mac and cheese. But the housekeeper usually does that. Her name is Marian. But I think today's her day off. I haven't seen her around."

"They've got a full-time nanny and a full-time housekeeper?"

"Yeah, and the dad has a full-time driver too."

"Damn."

She strokes her chin. "Not a lot different from how you grew up."

I gaze out a large living-room window. "I suppose not."

She's right in that we never had to worry about money. Our ranch is very successful, but our real money comes from my father's mother, Sandra Cooper Bellamy, the Cooper Steel heiress. She passed away while Falcon was in prison. He was able to come to the funeral on furlough, but then he had to go back.

That was a little over a year ago.

She was never the same once Falcon went away. I just thought it was her age, but now that I know that Falcon went to her for the money Eagle needed, I realize that she must have been utterly brokenhearted. She went to her grave thinking that she was responsible for her grandson's imprisonment. If only there were a way to tell her that Falcon was just trying to do right by his family.

All that money couldn't save her from dying in sorrow. Money can't save you from a lot of things. I still got cancer, still nearly died. Falcon still went to jail. Eagle still got involved in a drug ring.

Hawk and Robin seem to be okay, but who the hell knows anymore?

But now isn't the time to think about this. I'm catching up with an old friend.

"Let's have a look around anyway," I say.

"Not until you tell me about what you've been through," she says. "I'm so sorry, Ray."

I shrug. "Please, don't be. I'm going to be fine, and for that I'm truly grateful. I could tell you all about it, but it will make me sound like a Debbie Downer. I try to dwell on the fact that I got through it and made it to the other side."

"That's amazing," CJ says. "I wish I'd been here to help."

I shake my head. "I had my family. My brothers and sister. And frankly I wasn't big on other visitors. But let's talk about something else. Show me around this fabulous house."

CJ flashes a smile. "Gladly. Follow me."

CJ's employers' mansion is about the same size as my parents', but while the Bellamys built their home with the express purpose of raising a family in mind, these people seem to have designed their home with nothing but pure lavishness as the main objective. CJ takes me to the home theater adorned with rich velvet drapes and outfitted with plush reclining seats, surround sound, and even an old-fashioned popcorn maker. Then she shows me the indoor pool, complete with lounge chairs, a luxurious cedar sauna, and a jetted jacuzzi.

Onward to the library, the billiard room—I feel like I'm playing a game of Clue —and we finish out the tour in the music room, which is bedecked with a nine-foot Steinway grand piano, acoustic and electric guitars, a violin, and a drum set.

"Do your employers play a lot of music?" I ask. "They nearly have an entire orchestra in this room alone."

CJ scoffs. "Not a one. People like this own musical instruments because they're supposed to, not because they actually use them." She giggles and punches me in the arm. "Get with the program, Ray."

I laugh, but seeing this room full of beautiful instruments cursed to a life of complete silence makes me a little sad.

"But I still have to show you the best part," CJ goes on. "Follow me."

She leads me to a closed door on the mansion's third floor.

"This," she says, opening the door, "is my room."

I nearly drop my jaw. It's gorgeous. CJ has a king-sized bed with a tufted headboard upholstered in a cream-colored fabric. The bed itself is covered in what I think are silk sheets in a sweet baby blue. Flanking her bed are matching nightstands made of dark wood, each topped with a sleek, modern lamp. A large mirror hangs above an antique wooden dresser. A comfortable reading nook sits on one side of the room, featuring a plush armchair upholstered in a muted floral fabric beside a small bookshelf filled with an array of romance novels—CJ's favorite. She used to read them all the time back in school. The walls are painted the same color as her bedsheets, enhanced by elegant crown molding, and are adorned with a few serene watercolor landscapes depicting tranquil countryside scenes, as well as a striking abstract piece in shades of blue and gold.

I walk up to the abstract piece and notice the autograph in the bottom right corner. "Is this a genuine Roy Wolfe painting?"

CJ shrugs. "Who knows? I doubt these people would buy prints."

"Did they let you decorate yourself?"

She bursts out laughing. "Oh God no. Are you kidding? This place has all been professionally decorated. And believe it or not, this is the smallest room in the house. But I have my own bathroom, and it's closer to the kids' rooms than the master is, of course, because if the kids get up in the night with a problem, guess who's supposed to come to their aid?"

"Well…you are their nanny."

"I am, and they pay me very well for what I do. I like the kids a lot, and I don't mind. But it's just…" She shakes her head. "These people are the most hands-off parents I've ever seen, and you know how I grew up."

CJ's dad was in the military and was gone a lot, and her mother worked full time, so she barely had one parent for most of her childhood. She spent a lot of time at my house, hanging with Robin and me.

She leads me into her bathroom, which is decadent. It almost looks like a master bathroom, with a jetted tub, separate shower, and a double vanity.

"I guess you're pretty comfortable here," I say.

"Yeah." She sits on the side of the tub. "I was really lucky to land this gig. I get to keep most of my salary because my room and board are paid for. They even gave me use of a car, you know, to drive the kids around."

"Do they let you use it for private purposes?"

She beams. "They sure do. On my day off, I can use it to go wherever I want. That's how I'll get to your place on Sunday."

"Sounds like a dream job," I say.

"It is, except I only get one day off a week. Every other day, I'm on call twenty-four-seven. But it's not that bad, really, because the kids are at school for eight hours. I don't have to clean or cook—the housekeeper does that. My job is just the kids."

"That's awesome, Ceej. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks." She grabs me and hugs me. "It's just so good to see you, Ray. How did we lose touch?"

"I don't know. You were in Germany, for one."

"I know." Her face falls. "My bad."

"It's not all your fault." I lay a hand on her arm. "I could've reached out and I didn't. Although the last couple of years I've been kind of busy."

"I totally understand." She grabs my hands. "So it's for sure that you're cured?"

"Well, nothing's ever a hundred percent sure," I tell her, "but they're very optimistic. My body has reacted really well to Falcon's bone marrow, so well that they let me go home a few days after the transplant. I've been recovering at home. At my parents' home actually. They didn't want me staying alone. But I've got to tell you, I can't wait to get back to my place full-time."

"So you can have sex?" CJ giggles.

I roll my eyes at her. "You have not changed one bit, Ceej. It gives a little sense of constancy in my universe. I might not be able to trust my own blood cells, but I can trust that you'll be the same goblin I grew up with. It's so great to see you."

She gives me a hug. "You too, Ray."

CJ takes me through the rest of the house, and we end up in the large gourmet kitchen. I grew up with a large gourmet kitchen. My mom is a great cook, and oftentimes we had housekeepers to help with the cooking as well. But make no mistake about it. The kitchen was my mother's domain, and she made sure every housekeeper understood that. I bet Mrs. Whatever-Her-Name-Is never set foot in this kitchen.

Plus, our kitchen is nearly a century old. It's been updated, of course, but it has a lot of old country charm. This one? Totally different. It's monochromatic, sterile-looking, with a huge Viking stove and polished stainless-steel appliances. The counters look like marble, and there are not one, not two, but five sinks in this kitchen.

"What on earth do they need five sinks for?"

"Oh, I have this one memorized," CJ says. "One is for food prep, one is for baking prep, to avoid cross contamination, of course." She rolls her eyes. "The one in the butler's pantry is for prepping dishes and glassware for formal dinners." She walks over to the wet bar. "This one of course is for rinsing drinkware for the bar, and that big one in the back"—she points—"is for cleanup. Pots and pans and the like."

"Wow," is all I can say.

"Right?" CJ sighs. "If I enjoyed cooking more, I could have a field day in here."

"You can use the whole house then?"

"Yeah. Except the master bedroom. They keep it locked when they're home."

I shrug a moment. "I guess that makes sense."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I mean, if they have expensive jewelry in there or something."

"Oh, they wouldn't have that. They keep all of that kind of stuff in the safe. It's in the family room, behind the gun cabinet."

I grew up around guns. I learned to shoot when I was a kid. So the fact that CJ mentioned a gun cabinet shouldn't make the back of my neck go cold.

But for some reason, it does.

I shrug it off.

My body doesn't react the same way it used to before I was sick. Things change. So much poison was pumped into me, my nerves don't react the way they normally do.

That's all this is, obviously.

"Why wouldn't they want you going into their room then?"

She shrugs. "Heck if I know. They're probably just private. But who cares? I have no desire to see their room anyway. I mean, like what if they're into bondage or something?" She lets out a shudder.

I laugh. "That could be one reason they don't want you in there."

"Though I doubt it," she says. "Mrs. P is about as uptight as they get. The pearl-clutching kind of uptight, if you know what I mean."

I nod. "Yup. I'm familiar."

CJ crosses the large kitchen to the fridge and opens it, scanning its contents. "I've got all kinds of things we can whip up for lunch. I'm not a huge cook, as I said, but Marian made some awesome chicken salad last night for dinner. There are leftovers, and it will be great on some sourdough bread. I can add some lettuce and tomato. And there's some chips. Plus Diet Coke. Does that sound good?"

I glance inside the refrigerator. "Do you happen to have Orange Crush?"

She clamps her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God, Ray. Are you still drinking that stuff?"

I smile. "Tastes just like sunshine."

She moves some items in the fridge around, frowning. "I wish I had a can for you. I remember you stocked your dorm room minifridge to the brim with it. All I've got is some bottled water and Diet Coke. There might be some apple juice or orange juice. Would OJ be a good substitute?"

I chuckle. "Tastes too real. I need the artificial, neon-dyed goodness that is Orange Crush. But

Diet Coke or water is fine." I smile at her.

"Go ahead and take a seat at the counter there. I'll get our sandwiches made."

I sit at the island, admiring the gorgeous marble countertop streaked in black and gold. "I can't get over how gorgeous this marble is," I say.

"Oh yeah. Apparently they had it imported from Italy. One giant slab that they cut to size. Incredible, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I mean, my mom has gorgeous granite countertops in her kitchen, but this is something else entirely."

"I know." CJ slices off several slices of bread from a golden-brown loaf and heaps chicken salad on top of each one. She adds some crisp lettuce and a few slices of tomato. "You want onion?"

"No, thanks."

"Good enough." She slices a few thin slivers of red onion onto her own sandwich but leaves mine alone.

She sets them on the counter, sliding mine in front of me along with a snack-size bag of chips and a can of Diet Coke. "Bon appétit," she says.

I grab a napkin from the napkin holder on the counter and place it in my lap. Then I take a bite of the sandwich. "Wow, it's delicious. So crunchy."

"Marian put celery and water chestnuts in it. Makes it really crunchy."

"Delicious too. Is that apple?"

"Yep. Just a bit of Granny Smith. I watch her in the kitchen sometimes." She snags a napkin and wipes her chin. "Thinking maybe I'll learn through osmosis."

I swallow and give her a chuckle. "Well, this is amazing chicken salad."

"I'm glad you like it."

I continue eating, but then jerk when the doorbell rings.

CJ swallows her bite of sandwich and rises. "They have that big non-soliciting sign right out front, but it doesn't stop them. I swear I answer this door nine to ten times a day." She whisks away. "Be right back."

I finish my sandwich while she's gone and open my bag of chips.

I eat one, savoring the crunchiness and saltiness. Food tastes so good now. I mean, look at this potato chip. A thinly sliced piece of potato fried in oil and salted. That's all it is. And my God, it's delicious.

I finish the chips and drain my Diet Coke when I realize CJ hasn't come back yet.

I hear her talking at the door with someone, but I can't make out what either of them are saying.

I get up, walk out of the kitchen and toward the doorway, and then I gasp.