“If things work out with Wende, do yourself a favor and get a prenup. I’ll draw it up for you.”
She would omit the fact that his potential fiancée was a would-be terrorist, not to mention reckless in jumping out of a boat and almost getting Cooked and him drowned.
“Never,” he said.
“Why not? You’ve been married five times before.” She knew because one night in Loren’s office she had googled him and read the gossip columns. Was she stalking him?
“Six times. That would be like starting the game betting you were going to lose.”
“You’ve never had a prenup?”
“It’s glorious supporting a village.”
“We better head back.”
Dex nodded and helped her up. They walked along in silence.
“Richard lied to you. He didn’t mean to, but he did. There is no restaurant. It’s a long story … I took some money. We’re in hiding.”
“Cool, so you guys are outlaws!”
“White-collar, corporate kind of ones.”
“Those are the most deadly kind. My dad was a CEO.”
“So Wende was telling the truth?”
“A hell of a pedigree.”
“Can’t be that bad. What did his company do?”
“They made deals. Sold banned pharmaceuticals to third-world countries for record profits. Backed a supplier of depleted uranium-ammo for the Gulf War, then denied its side-effects. Were involved with financial institutions and hired a PR firm that manufactured public opinion to go to war in the Gulf. Possibly masterminded the story about Saddam’s men pulling babies from incubators in Kuwait. The usual stuff.”
“That couldn’t be your father?”
“It gets better. Not only did he buy his own bullshit, he sent his oldest son to Kuwait to fight. Even after Harry’s death, he never admitted he was wrong … I miss Harry every day of my life … I’ll never forgive him for that.”
They stood watching the waves.
“I like you,” Ann said. “I mean you. Not DEX COOPER. You’re nothing like I thought you were.”
Dex bowed his head, flushed with pleasure.
“I lied, too,” Ann said. “We did meet.”
“I knew it! I never forget a pretty face.”
“At the Troubadour with my best friend, Lorna. You bought us drinks. Whiskey sours? Whenever I order one, I remember that night.”
“What else happened?”
“You had us drive you home. Your license had been revoked … You suggested things.”
“Sure I did.”
“You kissed Lorna, and we went home. Sometimes, over the years, I regretted it wasn’t me.”
Dex shook his head, smiling. “I was bad news back then.”
“You’re right.”
“Man!” he said. “We two are seriously messed up.”
“I don’t feel messed up. Not right now.”
Close up, Ann noticed the details of Dex’s tattoos: a long twisting dragon around his arm, and a bitten apple on his shoulder (Wende’s doing?). She did a double take. “What’s that?” she said, using the tattoo as an excuse to touch his skin with her fingertips. A shiver went through her. The only other man to affect her that way had been Javi.
“That was a joke my first wife, Jamie, played on me,” Dex said, grabbing her hand and clamping it under his armpit so Ann had to walk sideways, like her arm was being swallowed by a cuddly alligator. “Eve and the apple? Temptation. She did it in the mid-’80s when the computer company was about to disappear. How did we know that they would turn things around, that the logo would become the most recognized one in the world?”
“Funny.”
“Kids think I’m pushing Apple products. Like I’d turn my body into a corporate billboard.”
“Get it lasered off.”
“Then I’d be cowing to the pressure of their imaging. Do they own the apple fruit? I think not.”
He had extraordinarily big hands, elegantly shaped, with long tapered fingers. In another life, he could have been a concert pianist; the span of his fingers easily could cover the interval of a thirteenth on a keyboard. What would those hands feel like on her hips?
Silence dropped between them, and again there was that electricity thing from their touching, and she needed to change the mood fast.
“Is Dex short for Dexter?”
“Dex is made up. Dex is nothing. Dex is reinvention. Couldn’t go by Adam Knowlton and be associated with the old guy, right?”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Then he held her arm as he started to trudge into the surf.
“Hey, no, I don’t want to go swimming.”
He had her in knee-high when he let go. Before she could turn away, he splashed a wave of water with his big paddlelike hand.
“No fair.” She splashed back.
“Oh, Ann, don’t you know by now nothing in this world is fair?” He grabbed her from behind around the waist to drag her in deeper. “I’m the big bad shark.”
If he kissed her now, she would let him. If he kissed her, she would kiss him back. She would gloss the past, undo regret, and when she was a grandmother someday, she would not be sorry that she had not kissed DEX COOPER.
She doubled over, laughing, trying and not trying to get out of his grip, when she heard a voice calling.
“Dex, honey, I’m sorry.”
Wende, puffy-eyed and repentant, waded into the water with shuffling, babyish steps, totally unfazed that her boyfriend had his big pianist’s hands all over another woman’s semibared body. Ann was sure that a jealous girlfriend wouldn’t last very long in Dex’s world, what with women flinging themselves at him and making themselves available. Still, it irked her that Wende considered her beneath the possibility of jealousy. Or maybe she considered Ann too much of a friend to have any doubts of her loyalty?
“Oh, lovebug,” Dex said, releasing Ann. The water frothed in his hurry to get to tear-smeared Wende. They hugged. Wende mouthed, “I’ll tell you later,” over his shoulder. Dex picked her up, and she wrapped her golden legs around his waist. They didn’t stop kissing long enough to notice Ann’s hurried departure down the beach.
* * *
The somnolent morning passed. The main resort didn’t have a boat to spare, so they were effectively stranded until one could be procured from Papeete. No supply runs, no snorkeling trips, no sightseeing. Worried about the cost of new repairs necessitated by the storm, Loren insisted the replacement be a used one, so the wait could stretch out even longer.
“What if someone gets sick?” Richard whispered to Ann.
“We’re all healthy. Except for Loren.”
When they showed up a few hours later for lunch, Dex and Wende had big smiles on their faces. Wende yawned and said she was going for a nap.
“You promised we’d talk,” Ann insisted.
“Give me an hour,” Wende begged off.
* * *
Revved after the friction of Wende, still tingling from his two near-deaths in the boat, chastened by the burning of his last song, Dex took a notebook and some pens and went into one of the back, uninhabited bungalows. It was still soggy from the storm and smelled of mildew, but he was glad for that. He deserved hardship. He had promised Wende he was going to rewrite “One-Eyed Lady,” but before he did, there was something else he needed to do, a sort of testimonial. He was deeply committed to the idea of marrying Wende, just as he had been to each of his wives in his last six marriages; he needed to figure out how he could make her the sixth and last Mrs. Dex Cooper. He paused and took a sip from the bottle of rum he’d swiped from the bar.
The 5 Women I Married (Before Wende, Who I Love the Most)