The Legend of Arturo King Read online

  The movement prompted Ana to take in my attire with a sweep of her cold green eyes. She scanned me quickly before looking forward again to watch where we walked.

  “He’s dressed you in his sweatshirt? Always so chivalrous. Always thinking of his lovers first, correct?” Ana sighed.

  Oh God, I thought, I’ve become one of them. One of the many satisfied lovers reported with him. One of the women I heard speak about him. Unfortunately for me, I now knew that satisfaction and I doubted any woman walked away from him fully satisfied that she had not captured his heart. I certainly felt that way suddenly, but maybe that again could be attributed to my inexperience.

  When we approached the house, Kaye opened the door for us. I hadn’t thought to ask where he had been the day before, but I knew he was a vital part of the band from what Arturo had told me today. More secrets, like Ana said. Arturo had talked about the band, how they got started and what happened with Kaye all those years ago. He talked about writing music and how he was stumped lately, and he explained a story about Perkins Vale, finding a girl in the woods, and searching for her ever since. I still felt sick from Ana’s comments and it must have shown on my face because I was the first one Kaye spoke to in the group.

  “What’s wrong?” he blurted as our foursome entered the foyer.

  Arturo and Lans followed Kaye’s gaze and suddenly four more eyes were on me, making me feel like an organism being examined under a microscope.

  Arturo immediately set the picnic basket down and approached me.

  “What’s wrong?” He looked at me and back to Kaye, as if trying to see what Kaye saw.

  “Nothing.” I smiled weakly. I looked slowly from one man to another, letting my gaze drop from Lans, as his face showed concern as well. I didn’t bother to look at Ana, but I could almost feel the sinister smile across my shivering skin.

  “Guinie? You’re shaking,” Arturo said with his hands on my arms.

  “Maybe I had too much sun today. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go take a shower.” I made to move, but Arturo still held my arms.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said softly.

  “You can’t take a shower with me,” I tried to tease, hoping it would break the strange tension between us all.

  Kaye laughed and this helped Arturo smile. He released his hold on me and picked up the basket again, heading in the direction of the kitchen. Ana and Lans followed like sheep after a shepherd, but Kaye stopped at the base of the staircase as I climbed.

  “Guinie? Are you sure you’re okay? Did Arturo do something today to upset you?” he asked gently.

  “No.” I stopped on a stair and looked down at him. His blond hair was askew as he ran a hand through it. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” I turned my back to him so he wouldn’t see the quiver of my lip and I bit down hard to stop ridiculous tears from ruining my beautiful day. I had Ana to thank for that already.

  Showering and laying down for a nap made me have the strangest of dreams. I dreamt that I was at a party and a white deer crashed through the glass panels of floor-length windows. We were in some kind of ballroom. The stag was obviously injured from this stunt and probably very confused as well. Blood dripped slowly from the wounded animal, staining it with streaks of red. The animal leapt in one direction and then another before getting clear of the panicked partygoers and heading through an open doorway opposite the glass.

  A woman came through the broken glass opening, crying. She looked strangely like me and I suddenly had a shifted perspective from observer at the party to the viewpoint of the frantic lady. I was crying that the stag was hurt and someone needed to help it, to find it and save it from further damage. From this new perspective, I looked to the various men within the room. Kaye was present. Tristan. Lans. Perkins was missing, but it was Arturo who was clearly absent, and so was my father.

  Suddenly I transformed back to myself, and I could see the woman who was still an image of me, sobbing. I looked to Kaye. To Tristan. To Lans.

  “Someone help the woman,” I cried, empathizing with the woman’s pain.

  A man that I did not recognize suddenly grabbed the woman and took her back through the broken glass. I was torn. Help the woman? Save the animal?

  I turned to Kaye.

  “Do something,” I begged. Kaye shook his head sympathetically at me and went after the animal.

  I glanced at Tristan.

  “Do something,” I pleaded. Tristan stared at me like he didn’t know me and turned his back to me.

  I looked at Lans, who was the only one watching me.

  “Where is Arturo?” I asked in the dream. Lans didn’t respond.

  “Where is my father?”

  Kaye’s voice answered from the doorway. “He will go with me.”

  My eyes remained focused on Lans.

  “Do something,” I said softly. Lans immediately followed after the kidnapped woman.

  I stood amongst the other partygoers staring at them in turn, searching for Arturo.

  “You said you would always open the door for me. You said you wanted me to go where you go. You said anything. For me.”

  I paused.

  Where are you in my time of need? I thought.

  I woke with a start, my heart racing as if I were the wounded stag leaping and crashing through unknown parties, searching for freedom, and hoping to survive.

  My room was darkened, but a bedside lamp was on, and I felt a hand smooth up my leg and I flinched.

  “Shh. It’s okay,” a soothing voice spoke to me.

  “Arturo?” I said as I looked around the room, trying to collect myself. Butter-cream-colored walls. Large golden-wood armoire. Cello. Soft bed of pillows. I recognized where I was, and Arturo sat on the edge of the bed next to me, stroking my exposed leg. A tingling sensation was threatening as his hand smoothed gently up my thigh.

  “You were having a dream,” he said softly.

  I looked at him for a moment, recollecting the whole dream in a moment of time.

  “It was very strange.” I pinched my eyebrows.

  “Was it frightening? You were making noises like you were being chased or hurt.”

  I rolled onto my back, ignoring the question and placing my hand on my forehead.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost eight. Want something to eat?”

  “Sure,” I said, sitting up awkwardly. My body was twisted in the blankets and I had thrown on Arturo’s sweatshirt after showering. My second embarrassment for the day would be getting caught with it on again. My legs were exposed, the material of the covering riding up to my hips and a strip of red boy shorts peeking out from under the hem.

  Arturo’s eyes traveled down my body, pausing at the red color coming out from under his sweatshirt. He closed his eyes for a moment.

  “What are you wearing under there?” he swallowed.

  “Arturo, I don’t think you should ask.” I looked down at my legs and pulled the edge of the sweatshirt to cover me.

  “Why?”

  I glanced up at him and he must have seen something in my face.

  “You said you had fun today. Did something happen? Did I do something wrong? You seem distant now.”

  I glanced at the door behind him then down at my leg with his hand still caressing my thigh.

  “Tell me,” he said as he used his other hand to pull my face in his direction.

  “It’s nothing. I’m a silly girl. I had a great day with you.”

  “Something happened?”

  “Arturo, please. I’m fine. Let’s go have dinner.”

  He didn’t seem to believe me, but he let it drop. He slid off the edge of the bed and held out a hand for me.

  Arturo

  I didn’t sleep well again, even though I hadn’t drank that night. I was on a high from the day, but something happened when we saw Ana and Lans at the dock. I physically felt the shift in Guinevere as she tensed and tried to move away. I didn’t want to seem like I was using her, but I was
. I needed her as a shield from Ana.

  Despite our relations – step-brother and step-sister – Ana still wanted something from me. First, she was angry and she wanted money. Then, she decided she wanted recognition as the mother of my son. Finally, she wanted me. She tried to not-so-subtly remind me of that evening we spent together. What I did to her, what she taught me to do. She brought this up as a way to tempt me and it only made me sick to think I had done things with her. Of all people, my own step-sister. I tried not to fault myself, reminding myself that I didn’t know at the time that we were related, and in many ways, we were not, especially not blood related. Still, it made my skin crawl to think I was with her and enjoyed her. I even had a famous song about her.

  Ana openly made claims that I belonged with her. She suggested that the room next to mine should be hers, so she could slip into my room undetected. We could relive that night in college again, she promised me. It almost tempted me not to place Guinie in the yellow room. Almost. But I wanted Guinie close to me. I wanted her accessible to me if I needed her. After today, I was realizing just how much I needed her.

  When I couldn’t sleep, I became inspired to record the day and I quickly noted lyrics for a song. Then I broke them into two songs, recognizing that I had two sentiments going on in one. One was need – and being pulled out of darkness. The other was lust – and opening up to it. Guinevere had certainly done that earlier in the day when she surprised me by having an orgasm based on kissing alone. I was proud of myself for bringing her such a beautiful release and I couldn’t get the image of her coming out of my head all day. Head back, lips parted, body arched into me, she was breathtaking. Especially with that red bikini exposing all her skin, she was the most gorgeous creature I had ever seen.

  Secondly, I used Guinevere to drown out my jealousy. I wanted to stake my claim with Lans that Guinevere was mine. I don’t know what immediately made me feel so possessive of her, but I was. I hoped her shift at the dock had nothing to do with Lans, but I couldn’t rule it out. Lans was stealing looks at her as we rode up, and with my concentration on landing the boat, I couldn’t tell if she was returning his hard gaze. I hated that whatever happened to make Guinie distant, it could be pinned to Ana and Lans. They had potentially ruined an otherwise great day. Amazing, to use the word of Guinevere.

  When we had dinner that night, Guinie was quiet again. I noticed that Kaye kept looking at her, though Lans did not. Ana went home, thankfully. I wasn’t even sure I understood why Ana was at my house again. We typically tried to avoid one another after a big fight, and we had a huge one the day before.

  When I arrived at Camlann, and shockingly saw Morte’s presence, my temper flared. I didn’t like to take it out on Morte, but I did not want him around. God forgive me, but I didn’t have much of a relationship with my son, and introducing the idea of Morte to Guinie in such a quick way was not what I intended to happen upon arrival at the lake. As disconnected as I felt from Morte, I tried to be good to him the best I could, but I didn’t always present myself in a positive manner. Yesterday was one of those days. I hoped Morte had not heard me yelling at Ana to leave and take Morte with her. I even shouted at Ingrid for appearing on my first day at the lake. I wanted the whole trip to be special for Guinie. Ana, Morte, and Ingrid were all in the way as far as I was concerned.

  I wanted Guinevere to relax. I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to find a way to help her find herself. I had called my friend who managed 4G, and to my pleasure they would have an opening in the fall. One of the women was expecting a baby and didn’t feel it was appropriate or possible to continue to perform with her large stomach in the way. She also wanted some time with the baby, so this gave Guinie an opportunity to try the group without a firm commitment to them. I thought it would be the perfect chance for her to shine on her own rather than mixed in a large group like an orchestra. Not to mention, it would keep her in New York. All I needed to do was record an audition and send it over to them.

  My study in the old barn would be the perfect place for her, which was where I found myself at four in the morning, hammering out some sound for these new lyrics I was fumbling with in my head. I would have strummed in my room, but I didn’t want to wake Guinie in the next room. She seemed further disoriented and disturbed by whatever nightmare she had during her nap. I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to lie down next to her and let her go back to sleep knowing she was safe, but then I saw the red material sticking out from under my own sweatshirt, which she was wearing again, and all thoughts of sleep escaped me. The combination of the pieces of clothing brought other things to my mind that involved sleep later. Unfortunately, Guinie was closed off to playing along and any hope I had of bringing her to another beautiful release, and possibly my own, seemed to be gone for the moment.

  I played with a few more chords before I saw the door of the barn open and a familiar face enter.

  Mure.

  “What are you doing here so early?” I laughed at my old mentor.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” A gleam in his turquoise eye made me smile, but the other stormed dark with concern.

  “What can I do for you at this time of the morning?” I asked, setting my guitar down.

  “I came to ask the same of you. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m fine.” I shrugged.

  “Are you?”

  I stared at the old man. Mure was fishing for something, or he had something to say. Either way, I would spill the truth and then so would Mure.

  “It’s Ana and Morte. And Guinevere.”

  “I see.” He paused and stroked his white-bearded chin. “Tell me about Ana and Morte first.” So I explained the fight. How Ana wanted to stay in the house, knowing that Guinevere was present. She purposely brought Morte as a shield to get her way. I was upset that Ingrid allowed the whole scene in an attempt to get me to behave better toward Morte.

  Mure simply shook his head. “Morte will be the death of you,” he said sadly. “Most children are,” he added as if that was additional comfort.

  “Guinevere? Well, we had an amazing day yesterday,” I smiled to use her word for the feeling of her orgasm, “but something happened when we returned back to the house, and she shut down. Ana was here. So it might have been her. Lans was here. And it could have been him.”

  Mure eyed me with concern. “Why would you say it could be Lansing?”

  “I don’t know. It was probably something I did,” I snorted quietly and shrugged my shoulders again.

  “You need to be careful with Guinevere.”

  “People keep telling me that, but I think she’s stronger than she lets on. Her shyness protects her, but I don’t believe she’s as shy as she comes across.” I smiled again, thinking of her boldness in a bright-red bikini.

  “Either way, strong or shy, I don’t know if it is a good idea to be involved with her,” Mure warned.

  “Why not?”

  I could tell that Mure wouldn’t elaborate.

  “Let’s just say I have a feeling. It isn’t that she’s not a good person. I just don’t think she will be good for you.”

  “Well, let’s say I have a feeling,” I replied angrily. “It’s a good feeling. And it involves Guinevere.” I hated to discredit Mure, and I felt the sarcasm in my voice despite being serious. I’d never known Mure to be wrong in his hunches, but I was certain my own feelings were right.

  I called the band over to test out my lyrics. My newly inspired motivation brought them all with a mission to make music and Mure helped with the mixing. By the end of the day we had the potential of two new songs, and I was on a music buzz. When Tristan said he heard that Elaine Corbin was at the lake and hosting a party, I was pumped to go. I needed the high a party could bring to keep the euphoric feeling, but I also wanted the high I felt around Guinevere from yesterday to return as well.

  Elaine Corbin was old money. Her physically disabled father had some unknown story of familial wealth, and the family could trace their
blood line back to historic giants. They seemed to have a mystery about them, and I was certain there was some scandalous story that was protected from generation to generation. I had my suspicions it had to do with a girl I saw at their home a few summers in a row as a teenager. Either way, they were one of the original families to bring money into New York City, and one of the original families to settle a summer home in the woods surrounding the lake.

  Their summer home was more like a mansion with its numerous bedrooms rumored to sleep twenty couples if need be. It was enormous and classic looking. The house was not the brown fieldstone of mine, but rather a dull-gray limestone that actually was rather pretty. Various windows were decorated in a stained-glass design rather than clear glass. In the evening, the grounds were lit with fairy lights, accentuating private alcoves in the garden. I loved this home for its old-world look and I enjoyed the spirit of Elaine Corbin, whose feisty strawberry-blonde hair matched her personality.

  Fortunately, Elaine had never been to bed with me. It was not from a lack of trying though on my part. She gently turned me down on the drunk occasions I propositioned her, telling me that while she found me attractive, she was in love with someone else. Her eyes would then wander over to Lansing, and I would sigh dramatically in defeat. Elaine would claim that Lansing Lotte was her destiny, and I didn’t wish to fight with Lans over another woman. The fact her affection for Lansing did not seem to be returned made no difference to me. She belonged to him. When all was said and done, it was a good thing I had never been with Elaine. She was one of the only female friends I had.