Fortress of Solitude

Chapter 1

Devon felt the nudge at his elbow and turned to face the woman on his right. She was beautiful, stunning, even in the harsh, throbbing strobe light that flashed across the club. Wavy honey-coloured hair to her shoulders, lustrous lips in a heart-shaped face and a voluptuous body, breasts that bloomed above the bodice of her red dress. She was the sex goddess of every male fantasy. Devon couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She leaned towards him. Sorry. Did I bump you? I always sit here, but usually on your stool. It’s my lucky spot. The first time I came here I’d just closed a big real estate deal so that became my lucky spot. She peered at him and smiled. She took in his slim build, black hair curling over his ears and dark blue eyes, the kind of eyes that people remember. She liked what she saw. Maybe it’ll be yours too. He sucked back his breath and gazed at her beauty, struggling to smile back. He found it hard to speak. He had to say something, anything so she would continue to sit beside him.

You’re welcome, to sit here. I mean, I can move. I mean, we could trade seats. He was trying for cool but shot wide of the mark.

Oh, no. I’m not really superstitious. She waved her hand. Actually I’m kind of glad you’re there.

Why? sounding puzzled.

It gives me an excuse to talk to you. She smiled again, gleaming teeth, bright eyes. She moved closer. But, I can hardly hear you.

Her heady scent seemed to swirl around his head. Devon finally smiled.

I know. The music. Kind of deafening. Skrillz pulsed from the speakers−a low throbbing drone that couples jumped and gyrated to on the dance floor. The drum of the music was a rhythmic thump, thump, thump as red and blue strobe lights streaked across the room.

I don’t think you’re meant to talk in a place like this, he said.

Would you rather dance than talk? she asked.

We could do both, he said.

They made their way to the crowded floor where dancers moved in sync with the throb of the music. Devon and the woman found the beat, Devon tentative, the woman dancing with abandon, hands clapping over her head, a sensuous red swirl. Devon felt rooted to the spot until people bumped him into moving. He quickly picked up the rhythm’s primal beat. The music accelerated and the couple responded in a heaving display of heat. The floor erupted in a wild whoop as the music ground to a stop.

The DJ changed beats and the woman grabbed Devon’s hand and led him back to their drinks. Their stools at the bar were now occupied, their drinks long gone. Still holding his hand she headed for a small bar table along the back wall.

We’ll get new drinks, she said, still breathing heavily at the exertion. She waved at the waiter. Guinness for him, vodka/tonic for her. They watched the dancers with a studied intensity until they were served.

You’re a good dancer, she said. Do you come here often?

No. This is special. I just finished exams today and it’s my birthday, he said, thinking it sounded childish.

So, happy birthday. She saluted him with her new drink. Where do you go to school?

UBC.

Yeah? What do you study?

Business and Commerce.

Oh, a baby-Trump. She grinned and saluted him again.

Devon flushed, gulped his drink. The dancers drew their attention and they were silent for a minute.

This place is heating up, Devon said. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his black shirt. And the music’s deafening.

Just this one drink and then maybe we could leave. Find some place quieter. She tilted her head and reached to touch his hand, scraping along his wrist with a scarlet fingernail. Devon caught his breath and shivered in response. Are you here with anyone? she asked.

He pointed. Over there. That’s my friend, Nick, with the girl in the sparkly tank. We came together. He’s celebrating end of school too.

Have you celebrated enough? Do you have to leave together? The question held all the promise of the night.

Devon swallowed and shifted his feet, regarded his friend across the room, thinking about the possibilities. An amazing fox stood next to him, eager and willing. Nick was leaning in to kiss the sequined girl. No contest. I don’t think he’ll miss me, he said. They peered at each other across the table. Her gaze was intense, boring into his. They each took a swallow of their drinks.

Let’s go, she said.

Where?

I have a room, she said. Her eyes widened and gleamed with invitation.

They exited the club and walked along Granville Street, glued shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. The night people lurked in the shadows and a neon glow set off her red dress with a vibrancy unknown in daylight. Devon’s heart pounded as they covered the distance. His nineteen-year-old body tightened with excitement.

They walked across the lobby of the hotel. Devon felt the glare of lights as if a spot light illuminated their passage. He knew the night clerk was following their progress and no doubt snickering. He didn’t care. This was much too good to care. Minutes later they entered the darkness of her hotel room.

The door was barely closed when she clutched at his shirt, ripping it open. She slammed him against the wall clawing at his clothes. Her mouth was voracious. She twisted him backwards onto the bed, cursing the slowness as they struggled out of clothes. They thrashed through a tangle of arms and legs until their passion peaked, then ebbed.

All too soon it was over. Her feral attack left him shocked and exhausted. The scent of alcohol and sex hung between them. Lying on their backs slick with sweat, their chests heaved as breathing slowed to normal. Devon’s body goose-bumped in the cool night air.

What’s your name? he asked.

Vanessa, she said. She didn’t ask his.

Chapter 2

This couldn’t be better. Laura James found she was talking to herself out loud as a happy sound erupted from her throat. There was a lot to be happy about – a brand new house built to her needs and a spring day that knocked your socks off. Sunny, twenty degrees and no wind. Perfect for planting that rose bush her office assistant had given for a house-warming gift. She picked up the trowel and shook a small rose bush loose from its plastic pot. She’d plant it in a large ceramic pot and leave it on the front deck. That way she could enjoy it every day for months to come. In fact, she planned to enjoy lots of them before the summer was out.

She put the small pot on her jeans-covered lap and activated the electric wheelchair. Lacey, a golden retriever and service dog lifted her head in anticipation of work. Seeing none she relaxed again. Laura’s chair rolled smoothly across the deck and stopped at a collection of planting material. Putting the rose bush on the deck, Laura picked up a bag of potting soil, cut the top and poured it into the large blue pot. She followed with the rose bush and tamped it into place with soil around the base. Rolling again to the outdoor tap, she filled a watering can and returned to the rose bush and gave it a generous soaking. She sat back and admired her work. Buds had formed and she could see that there would be red blooms soon. She smiled.

She looked up at the sound of an approaching engine. At the curve of Heron Bay Road, a chromed-out Harley appeared, moving slowly as if to stop. Laura didn’t recognize the rider, a big man in jeans, plaid shirt and a fringed leather vest. He came to a stop in front of Laura’s deck.

Hi, he said. He tucked his helmet under his arm. I’m your nearest neighbor. Cole Rossi. I live in the trailer that’s parked down the road.

Hi. Laura James.

Hello, Laura James. I watched your house being built. Actually I watched the old one torn down too. Don’t blame you for doing that. It was an eyesore. I know. I used to live in it.

Really? You lived on this property?

Yeah, for six years. I was renting, of course. Then the owner decided to sell so I moved into the trailer. He waved in the direction of the trailer. He was straddling the motorcycle and Laura could see he was long-legged and muscular. Tattoos peeked out from shirtsleeves.

So you’re my closest neighbour?

Does that bother you?

No. Should it?

No, not at all. But, I can see that you … well, you might need some help now and then. He indicated her wheelchair.

I’m pretty self-sufficient or I wouldn’t have moved here. The new house suits me. And I’ve got Lacey to help. She waved a hand at the dog.

Glad to hear it, Cole said. He looked at the van parked in the driveway and the low-incline ramp leading from the deck to the van.

Glad to hear it, he repeated. But, you can call on me if you want to. I’m pretty handy with a hammer and know my way around electrics.

I hope all that is taken care of with this new-build. But, thanks. And hey, if you ever need the help of a lawyer, give me a call. Laura loved the astonished look on his face when she said this.

Wow. Sure. I guess you can take care of yourself. He was impressed.

Most times. Thanks for stopping by, Cole Rossi.

My pleasure. He revved the bike and, in a roar of power, was gone.

Laura watched his departing silhouette with a certain longing. She managed well in her chair and van, but, there were other life experiences out there that she would never have, like riding a motorcycle. But, life never gives you everything. Being born with spina bifida was luck of the draw. Best to be philosophical and get on with it.

She pushed back her dark hair and swept potting soil off her lap. Her cell phone chirped in her pocket.

Hello. Her friend Mel’s number was on the call display. Born Amelia, she became Mel to everyone very early in her life.

Hi, Laura.

Mel. Are you coming over? I can’t wait to show you me, all moved in and loving it.

I was hoping you’d be home. I’m on my way to town for groceries and I can pick up for you too if there’s anything you need.

Just come and have coffee.

Okay. I won’t be long. I have to phone Devon and give him a message from his father. Joe’s due in today. Joe’s been on the Chicago run this week. Anyway Devon’s coming home too. Joe wants Devon to meet him at the airport in the crew’s lounge. Devon had his nineteenth birthday yesterday and celebrated in Vancouver. But we need cake and champagne for dinner.

That sounds like a winner. I’ll put on the coffee. See you soon.

* * *

Devon felt the bed move, then, heard Vanessa walking across the room. The light went on in the bathroom and the shower started, lots of force behind the stream. His eyes popped open and he sat up. He was still naked and pulled the covers tightly across his lap. It had been quite a birthday celebration. Just enough booze to float into this … whatever it was. There sure hadn’t been much talking and he still knew next to nothing–make that nothing−about Vanessa. She was older, he could tell that, and experienced, which he wasn’t. Not that that seemed to make any difference to her. A hair dryer whirred for a few minutes, then stopped.

How you doin’ baby-Trump? Vanessa stood in the bathroom doorway, a large towel wrapped around her torso.

He looked at her in the morning light. Natural beauty shone from her well-scrubbed face. He wondered why she had worn so much makeup last night. I’m good. No problem. I really didn’t have too much to drink.

Just enough I’d say. A chuckle rumbled in her throat. She discarded the towel and began dressing out of a suitcase, thin, lacy underclothes then a white shirt and black pants.

You need to be somewhere? Devon asked. His body responded to the sight of her half-dressed.

Yeah. Home. The business trip is over and I’m headed back.

I thought maybe we could spend some time together today. Disappointment etched his voice.

Sorry. Fun time’s over. But you stay here as long as you like. I’ll pay the bill on the way out. She shouldered into a blazer, zipped the suitcase and picked up her purse. Opening the door, she turned to look at him. It was fun, baby-Trump. Happy birthday. And she was gone.

Gone. Someone that vibrant would never be gone. Her charismatic presence lingered in the room. He’d remember her forever. Devon leaned back against the pillows, his mind a jumble of memories and sensations from the previous night. She was different than the girls he knew, girls who were young and still finding themselves. Vanessa knew what she wanted and went after it with both hands, grabbing and clawing her way to the goal. Last night that goal had been him. Not a bad way to burst into adult life.

His phone chirped interrupting his reflections. He groped for his pants and the phone lying on the floor.

Mel, hi. What’s up?

First of all, happy birthday. Hope you had a fun night.

No complaints here. I’m not up yet, though.

Well, I’m calling ‘cause your dad is coming in at noon and says to meet him in the crew’s lounge in domestic. That way you don’t have to get the bus to Chilliwack and put up with the milk-run stops. Can you do it?

Yeah, no problem. I’ve got the code to get in. I’ll text him to let him know I’ll be there. Thanks, Mel. See you later today.

Can’t wait to hear about your evening.

Well it has to be memorable for your nineteenth, right?

We’ll add to that with champagne at dinner. See you soon.

Devon closed his phone. He was spending the summer with his dad and Mel at their house on Little Bear Lake. Devon had coined the name lazy water for the lake so tranquil and warm all summer that relaxing water fun happened without trying. Five years ago his father had bought the house after a summer of looking after him and Joe’s own mother at Joe’s childhood home in Chilliwack. Devon’s grandmother had died that summer but a new life had developed at the lake house. Now Mel and Joe made it their home which they shared with Mel’s twelve-year-old son, Tyler and Mel’s mother, Edie. Devon loved them all and especially loved the lake. The summer stretched ahead and he grinned with smug happiness. Last night was just the beginning.

* * *

Cole Rossi’s muscles told him it had been a long, hard day. The spring sunshine had lasted far into the evening and Cole’s boss insisted on taking advantage of the fine weather and good light. Couldn’t fault him on that. Bad weather curtailed so much of construction activity that ten and twelve hour days were not unusual for the summer. But, no matter how many hours he worked, construction didn’t pay enough to suit him. He had big plans that didn’t involve working every day, plans that grew more real every day.

He roared along Heron Bay Road, slowing as he approached Laura James’s house. There was light coming from the inside and the van was in the driveway, so she was home. The property sale and building activity there had given