All conversation was cut off as soon as Corsica opened her mouth. Alicia fought to find fault with her, but couldn't form a single word. Phillip watched me, but I ignored him. Corsica was there, breathing life into the song–and into me.
"This calls for another round," Phillip announced when Corsica returned to the table.
"What does?" she asked, her cheeks still bright from her performance.
"The fact that we have a star sitting at our table." Phillip winked, and she laughed at the blatant flattery.
I stood up and caught her elbow before she could sit down. "Actually, we've got to be getting back."
"Where?"
"Why?"
Phillip and Corsica asked at the same time. Alicia sulked at the end of the table, but she smiled when Bill and Tamara pulled Corsica away into a conversation.
"Have to get her home before she turns into a pumpkin?" Alicia snickered in my ear.
I shifted away from the arm she slid through mine. "What are you doing in a karaoke bar? Aren't you afraid this will tarnish your image?"
"You're right. So, why don't you and I move the party back to my place?" Alicia's gaze was too warm.
I patted her arm and tried to overhear the other conversation. Bill was always surprising us all with his vast and varied contacts. Now, he was lining up the right ones for Corsica to meet.
"He's semi-retired and doesn't need the money. They play here in town whenever the moods strikes, and I'm sure your singing would put him in the mood to be on stage again," Bill was saying.
Alicia sighed and rubbed her cheek on my shoulder. "Is he talking about that old trumpet player again?"
"He's a legend," I said.
"I prefer more modern stories," Alicia said. She looked up and noticed my gaze was riveted to Corsica. Her fingers tightened on my arm, but she finally pulled away. "Though it seems like you all can't let go of fairytales."
Bill exchanged contact information with Corsica and promised to put in a good word for her. He was already on the phone as the party broke up. Phillip offered to give her a ride home, but I swept an arm around her waist.
"Course, I forgot. You're staying at Xavier's place," Phillip said with a conspiratorial look at me.
Corsica brushed her hair back and laughed. "Oh, it's all right. I figured out that Penn is his son. You don't have to tiptoe around what I don't know."
Phillip smacked my shoulder. "What a relief."
Corsica was quiet all the way to the car, but as soon as I pointed us up the coast, she turned to me. "Phillip seems to believe the rift with your father will heal."
"Phillip's sentimental like that."
"Your friends take it for granted that you will get your fortune back. It's like they're waiting for everything to go back to normal."
They aren't the only ones, I thought. Then I gripped the steering wheel harder. "I can't go back, and I don't want anything that Xavier has to give me."
My statement was undermined by the fact that my father was at the house when we arrived. He was holding court at the kitchen island while his personal chef and two assistants unpacked crates of fresh groceries.
"Corsica, dear, your sauce was spectacular. We were just talking about it," Xavier said.
"So spectacular that you had to bring in professionals to save you?" she asked.
My father laughed and the sound grated my skin. "I just thought since everything is settling down a bit and we're all busy, it would be nice to have the kitchen fully stocked."
"That's a lot of leafy greens," I muttered.
"Well, your mother has inspired me to take another look at my diet," Xavier said. "And, it looks like Paul is happy for the change."
Paul, my father's personal chef, smiled as he continued to work. "Everything will be ready to go with easy instructions in here." He handed the leather-bound folder to Corsica. "And, I made sure to buy all the ingredients for your sauce. If there's no comfort food, he'll never survive."
Corsica climbed onto the stool next to my father and started flipping through the menu and instructions. "This is fantastic. I'm sure Alice will approve."
"Alice hates that I have a chef. She says you can't get what you need from food unless you prepare it yourself, have a real connection with the ingredients." Xavier grinned.
Corsica laughed. "How on earth did two such polar opposites ever meet in the first place?"
I got in the way of the kitchen staff until Paul handed me a beer. Then all I could do was lean against the counter in the corner and watch Corsica smile at my father. I didn't want to admit I was curious. I had never heard the story of how my parents met.
"The first start-up I ever invested in liked to have company retreats out in the desert down near Joshua Tree. I didn't intend to stay, but then I saw their guide.
“Alice was like a mirage, all flowing clothes the color of water. I told her I was an intern and everyone in the company had to go along with it. I stayed in the desert for three days just to be near her."
"Eating campfire food?" Paul asked, eyes wide with shock.
Xavier laughed. "What can I say? It was love at first sight."
Everyone was smiling at the story, but I couldn't feel it. All I noticed was that my parents' relationship had started with a lie.
Alice would have loved taking the lowest man on the food chain and lifting him up. I knew my father had been that start-up’s angel investor and they would have treated him like royalty or lied right alongside him to trick a compassionate woman.
Paul and his efficient assistants bundled up their crates and said goodbye. Corsica was talking to my father about the trumpet player that Bill knew. I wanted to tear her away from him, tell her again how he was the monster from my memories, but she was happy. So, I slipped away and was more than surprised when her slim hand caught my arm.
"How about we listen to a little music before we go to bed?" she asked.
"There's a stereo in my, our room," I said. It was like a dream to lead her down the hallway and into my suite. Xavier was finishing up work at the kitchen island and waved his goodnight. Corsica had to come with me to keep up our show.
It irked me how my own white lies reminded me of my father's story, but I was too happy to have her to myself to dwell on it.
Corsica quickly searched my music library and found the trumpet player Bill had mentioned. The music was mellow with the rhythm a lightly stirred drum and the trumpet as smooth as honey. It was the perfect excuse to draw her into my arms.
"The door's closed, we don't have to pretend," Corsica said as her arms slipped around my waist.
"What if I don't want to pretend anymore?"
Her lips met mine with a shock that kept my eyes open. Then, the taste of her, the soft contours, and the way her breath slipped in and out of mine had my eyes closing on a sigh of ecstasy.
Corsica gave in, her head leaning back to let me in. Her feet didn't resist as I backed her towards my bed. I laid her down, her lips still sparring with wet desire, and they didn't pull away when I leaned over her. Balanced on one arm, I let my other hand roam and found her arching her back to encourage my touch.