Tremors
By Kristine Zensky
February 1973
Cinnamon looked at the clock as she listened to the phone ring and ring. For the third day running, nothing was going according to plan. Finally, she heard her own voice answer as the message machine kicked into gear. She wondered where Maria could be. For once she was glad Barney and Paula had given her the automated tape recorder for Christmas.
“Hi Maria, it’s Cinnamon. I apologize because I completely forgot to mention I’ll be out tonight. I’ve got Michael’s fashion show, then a business dinner. Please tell Jennifer I’m sorry. I’ll call again after the show, but she’ll probably be asleep. In an emergency I’m at the Santa Monica airport in one of the hangars. Sorry, but I don’t have a number. I’ll call –.“ She was cut off. It was her least favorite thing about Barney’s newfangled contraption.
She heard Alice call from the outer office. “It’s after four, Miss Carter. And I’ve got your messages.”
She glanced at the clock again. With traffic, she was going to be pushed to arrive on time, much less early as she intended. Not only would Michael be frantic, so would three first-time runway girls she had promised to coach. She grabbed her bag and raced past Alice who no doubt had a list of things they needed to discuss. “Sorry, Alice. I’ve got to run. Please can you try to reach Maria in a little while and give her the number just in case she needs me?”
Alice nodded, “Just-“
“Tomorrow – I promise.” Cinnamon hurried through the door and into her car. Another promise she would likely break. When would things settle down? She tried to focus on the traffic but her mind kept wandering. What else had she forgotten to do? She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling.
Business was booming. Why wasn’t it more fulfilling? Michael’s show was bound to get significant coverage – he was widely tapped for designer of the year, his last collection had sold astoundingly well. His loyalty to Cinnamon and her agency was unswerving – a thank you for her early investment in his atelier which had funded his first solo show as “Michelangelo.”
Tonight Michael was using lots of the girls on her books. While she had delegated project management to one of her show directors, she had kept a hand in. Actually, her whole body would be in since she had agreed to walk an elegant long cape Michael had designed expressly for her, as well as two other outfits. She had been reluctant. It had been almost four years since she last appeared in a runway show, since she became pregnant with Jennifer.
This used to be so exciting. When had it gone flat? She certainly hadn’t missed the runway those four years. She had done a number of high profile magazine shoots once Jennifer was born and she got back to what she thought of as her fighting weight. The money was good and it kept her hand in, but she hadn’t really missed much of anything about modeling. Not like she missed the IMF.
Rollin seemed to be completely opposite. He vowed that the only thing he missed about the IMF was working with her and since that couldn’t happen anyway, he was happy to focus on what he teasingly called legitimate theater. He was able to immerse himself not just in acting, but in the actor’s life, happily living out of his suitcase and peripatetic-ly moving from set to set.
For a brief period after he resigned, when she was expecting the baby, she imagined them leading the white picket fence life - mommy and daddy and baby makes three. She knew he loved them both, passionately and devotedly. But the white pickets fenced him in and there was no fence high enough or wide enough to hold a spirit as wild as Rollin.
It was the reason she wouldn’t marry him. At first it seemed to upset him, then when Jen was born it didn’t seem to matter to either one of them. How could they be closer than making a baby together? They were teammates and they became a family. Cinnamon couldn’t imagine being happier.
Soon stage roles in New York and London and film sets in Canada and Europe beckoned. She wouldn’t hold him back. But she missed him. And much as she loved Jennifer, mother and sometime model were not nearly as interesting roles as spy and lover.
He’d been in town briefly for Jennifer’s third birthday last month. A few nights every few weeks with a man who could give her pleasures she had only imagined was never enough. It also wasn’t enough time for him to be a father to a precocious toddler. She begrudged his absence from Jennifer even more than his absence from her.
She saw her exit, signaled and checked her watch – not too late. Michael had also promised to introduce her to Fabrizio Ambrosini. The leading financier was busily building an impressive international portfolio of fashion brands and luxury businesses, including a stake in Michael’s emerging house. Michael thought Ambrosini might be interested in investing in or buying an agency and had suggested dinner following the show.
That was it! Cinnamon remembered she had forgotten to call her business manager. She knew how to play the meeting – it would be little more than a getting to know you session. Touting the attributes of the agency was second nature to her by now, but she wanted some advice from Bennett on the kind of questions she should be asking Ambrosini.
She pulled up to the gate and was directed to a reserved parking spot. She sighed as she hurried into the hangar. Everything that would be asked of her tonight was well within her powers. She could click on to auto-pilot. It would be frantic, hectic, chaotic, but ultimately easy, low risk and essentially unfulfilling.
She briefed the girls. None of their excitement rubbed off on her and she found herself going through the motions. Everything was well organized; her comments were superfluous to the expert direction the girls had received in rehearsal from Tomasz, the show director. While in make-up, she mused about the future. She knew her agency was a well-oiled machine and knew her high standards were reflected in everyone she retained. She recognized, not for the first time, that the smooth running of day to day business had less and less to do with her.
As she changed into her first outfit she realized she was making a decision, one that had been brewing in her subconscious for some time. She would court Ambrosini. If he wanted a modeling agency, she would make sure he wanted Allure Agency and that he paid top dollar. She would get out on top.
She quickly reviewed everything she knew about Ambrosini and began to form her mission plan. Most critical was that everything go well tonight. Cinnamon knew the value of a positive first impression. Michael had no doubt talked her up – she had to make sure everything that happened tonight exceeded all his expectations. Now she had a challenge.
She moved swiftly to the control suite and caught Michael’s eye. He inhaled deeply as he moved toward her. “I can’t wait!”
“The collection looks great.”
“So do the girls. Did you see the journo from Women’s Wear Daily? She’s a big fan of yours.”
Cinnamon smiled, “Michael she wouldn’t have come out from New York if she weren’t a fan of your designs.”
Michael acknowledged her compliment with a blush. “Fingers crossed!”
“Is Ambrosini here?”
“Yes – he came in his private plane. He says he’s looking forward to our dinner.”
“Me too, Michael. I think it will be very interesting to find out what he’s thinking. I just wanted to say thanks.”
“Hush – just get ready – you are going to make my cape a star. I told the Bergdorf buyer to be sure to look out for you.” Michael was called away for a last minute re-fit. The mood music started in the auditorium and the models let up a cheer backstage.
Cinnamon moved closer to Tomasz and told him there would be a very special guest in the audience tonight which made it essential that everything come off without a hitch.
“So I’ve heard.” Tomasz raised his eyebrows knowingly. He held his finger up as he listened on his headsets. Then he relayed the information to Cinnamon. “Apparently he didn’t come alone.”
“A date?”
“You could say so. It seems he goes for much younger women. He’s asking if they can see you before the show?”
Cinnamon looked around. Backstage at a runway show meant quick changes in cramped quarters. Some of the girls were still dressing. “Tell him I’ll meet him at the side door.”
Tomasz relayed Cinnamon’s instructions as she started toward the door. He stopped her, “The girl is already on her way back.”
Cinnamon nodded and turned for the door. A group of models blocked her way. All of the six footers were leaning over and all Cinnamon could see or hear was a chorus of “Aren’t you sweet?”
“I’m looking for my mommy.” The voice stopped Cinnamon cold.
“Jennifer?” Cinnamon moved through the crowd.
Jennifer was all dressed up in a pretty blue velvet dress, white tights, and shiny black patent leather shoes. Blue barrettes held back her blonde hair. “My daddy can’t come back here because there are naked ladies,” she told the models.
Cinnamon smiled at his fatherly decorum. Naked ladies backstage hadn’t always stopped Rollin Hand.
Rail thin Mathilde, who had been on her books for years, reached for the little girl’s hand. “You must be Jennifer!”
“This is a surprise for my mommy. My daddy likes to make surprises.”
Mathilde laughed, “Do you like fashion shows?”
“I don’t know yet.” Jennifer answered honestly.
Cinnamon reached down to pick up her daughter and kissed her cheek. “Hi Sweetheart.” Cinnamon made introductions.
Cocoa-skinned Grace tugged on her arm; “Does this mean he’s here?”
Cinnamon nodded as she lowered Jennifer back to the ground. Jen asked, “Do you know my dad?”
“Only from pictures,” Grace answered with a nod and a wink to the other girls.
“We can’t wait to meet him!” Mathilde added.
“I’m wearing my Mary Janes because these are my dress up shoes.” Jennifer told Grace earnestly.
The girls laughed in delight.
“How come that man can be back here?” Jennifer indicated Michael. He stopped fussing with the gazelle like twins who would open the show in identical rubber raincoats and sashayed over.
“You’ve got your Mother’s gorgeous cheekbones!”
Jen turned to look up at her mother, “No I don’t. Mommy, you have your cheeks.”
“Sweetie, Michael means you look like me. Michael, this is my daughter Jennifer. Jennifer, this is Mr. Mitchell.”
“Oh, call me Michelangelo – we all do now!” The girls shared his joke. “Just how did you get here my little cherub?”
“In my daddy’s car.”
Michael turned to Cinnamon, his eyes bulging, “The mysterious Mr. Hand! Share, share!”
Cinnamon laughed nervously as her professional and personal lives collided. “I haven’t seen him myself. I didn’t know he was in town.”
“He got here this morning ‘cause he did the red eyes.”
“The red eye, Sweetie.” Cinnamon pulled Jen back against her legs.
“Does your daddy have red eyes?” Michael knelt lower to ask.
“No, blue! The bluest of all.”
Michael laughed, “Well I can’t wait to meet him. I need to tell Patrick! Have a great show, Cinnamon.” Michael went off in search of his partner and to handle all the last minute details.
Tomasz called places and Cinnamon realized she wouldn’t have time to clarify that Ambrosini was the key audience member. She chastised herself for not having the foresight to arrange to meet him and welcome him personally. Well, maybe it would add to her allure if his first impression came from her catwalk appearance.
What was she going to do with her three year-old when she was back on the runway for the first time in nearly four years AND trying to impress a potential investor? Normally, knowing Rollin was in town, only a couple of feet away from her on the other side of the scrim would make her body warm with anticipation – her breath would quicken. Today, it made her want to wring his neck.
Cinnamon was ready to go in her first outfit and had already quickly double-checked her rack. Cinnamon knew a surprise like this would normally remind her of the excitement Rollin brought into her life. She knew she was angry today because she was in a different mindset. She resented being suddenly thrust into mommy role at time when she had a lot riding on her professionalism.
“Mommy, you look different.”
Cinnamon smiled. Jennifer was excited. “I have to wear special make-up for the show.”
“Daddy says I have to sit still for a long time and be patient. I can sit on his lap if I can’t see.”
Cinnamon knew Jen would love the theatricality of the event as much as seeing mom at work in a bizarre frock that - truth be told - she would probably never purchase. The music cues began. Cinnamon felt harried – she should work the entry to the runway and ensure all the girls were ready. She lifted Jennifer and carried her to the side door in search of Rollin. She peeked out, wondering if she would recognize Ambrosini from his press photos.
Rollin was energetically pacing near the door in gorgeous new suit. Her pulse did quicken and she forgot about Ambrosini instantly. Rollin sensed she was watching him and turned toward her with a broad grin. He immediately moved toward them.
“Isn’t Mommy beautiful, Jen?” His warm hand moved down Cinnamon’s side and his fingers set her on fire. He kissed her ear – a trick he learned long ago for not mussing her make-up. “Hi Beautiful.”
“Hi Rollin.”
His hand caressed her bottom as he pressed her back into the doorway to gain them some privacy. “Will you be my belated valentine?” He kissed her neck, lowering her collar.
She passed the baby to him, both to stop his roaming hands and to straighten her dress. “Rollin, it’s crazy here – it’s not just the show. I have – “ The music built dramatically and the first pair of girls broke boldly through the curtain. The applause was thunderous. ”I’ll explain…” Cinnamon pushed them toward the seats and ducked back through the side door.
The show went well. Cinnamon found Patrick’s music selection strange, but it garnered a good reaction from the audience. The girls did well, including Cinnamon’s first-timers. Her twirl in the cape drew enthusiastic applause from the crowd, but her own feeling was that the thrill was gone. Even knowing that Rollin and Jennifer were part of the audience did not help to lift her spirits. Still she was very happy for Michael and acquiesced when he asked her to wear the cape to the champagne reception and on to dinner. She was glad he hadn’t suggested she should wear the dress as well and she changed back to her own suit.
When she entered the reception she could see Rollin holding Jennifer in his arms and holding court with a bevy of beauties, some even taller than him. A handsome man holding a cute baby would always be a magnet. He seemed to enjoy having a gazelle twin on each elbow fawning over Jennifer. Jen seemed content so Cinnamon moved instead toward Michael and Fabrizio Ambrosini. A gaggle of reporters was hanging on the financier’s every word. Cinnamon hung back, congratulating her models, until the publicist dismissed the reporters.
Michael made the introductions. Ambrosini’s eyes sparkled as he kissed Cinnamon’s hand. Cinnamon spoke Italian to congratulate Dottore Ambrosini on his most recent acquisition. Charmed, Ambrosini was full of compliments not only about the collection, the models, and Cinnamon’s beauty, but her Italian as well.
The exchange of compliments shifted to English to include Michael and Patrick. Cinnamon was grateful because Italian was the only European language she wasn’t truly fluent in and she did not want to be caught out on this night of good impressions. Michael promised that with a brand name like Michelangelo he was beginning Italian lessons. Ambrosini promised to find him a good tutor and the conversation shifted to Milan and its exciting design scene.
Cinnamon listened attentively, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jennifer trying to take a glass of champagne off a tray a waiter had temporarily placed on a low table. She shifted her head slightly and could see Rollin closely examining the necklace one of the new girls had worn in the show and was still sporting. Engrossed in what could barely pass as conversation – Cinnamon knew the girl to be all beauty, no brains – Rollin was oblivious to his adventurous daughter’s exploits.
Just as Cinnamon started to excuse herself a waiter swooped in to save the tray. “Hey where’s your mommy?”
“Right there!” Jennifer announced joyfully and ran through the crowd toward Cinnamon, wrapping herself around her knees. At least it got Rollin’s attention and he followed Jennifer over.
The toddler held the attention of the entire group and Cinnamon made introductions. “Dottore Ambrosini, may I present my daughter Jennifer.”
“Fabrizio, please. It is a pleasure to meet you, Signorina Jennifer.” He extended his hand, which Jennifer shook before shyly turning to find Rollin.
“And this is her father, Rollin Hand. Rollin, Fabrizio Ambrosini.”
Ambrosini shook his hand, subtly sizing Rollin up. “You have a very beautiful daughter, Mr. Hand.”
“Thank you. Her beautiful mother had a lot to do with that. Please call me Rollin.”
“Fabrizio. I hope you will be able to join us for dinner.”
“Thanks – that’s very kind, but we’ve got a belated Valentine’s Day dinner tonight.”
Jennifer piped in “We’re going to La Scala. Just Daddy’s best girls.”
Cinnamon blinked as she tried to find a diplomatic out. All she could come up with was an over rule. She avoided Rollin’s eyes and hoped Jennifer wouldn’t understand. “I’m sorry, Fabrizio, I haven’t had a chance to update Rollin, but Michael, Patrick and I were planning to join you for dinner to discuss some of your interesting ideas further.
Ambrosini smiled, “I’d be delighted – perhaps Mr. Hand will join us as well.”
“Yes, perhaps.” Cinnamon turned to Patrick who smoothly invited Ambrosini to review the collection more closely. Michael joined them for the walk backstage.
Rollin hadn’t said anything. Cinnamon took a glass of water off a passing tray and handed it to Jennifer. She met his eyes and said, “I’m sorry about that but you didn’t give me many options.”
Rollin moved closer to her and whispered, “Are you on an assignment?”
“No – I’m not – how could – I haven’t worked in…” She was shocked. Did he really think she would return to active duty without telling him?
“All right – I just wasn’t sure.”
“How could…No, I’m not on an assignment. There’s just this thing called this business that I run. And when you just turn up out of the blue and expect…” She sighed, catching herself. “I’m sorry.”
“I should have called.” He reached for her cheek and rubbed it softly. “Please – this is our Valentine’s Day dinner. Can’t you –“
“Rollin, I made a commitment.”
He pressed against her, his hand moving under her hair, grazing her neck. “Change it.”
“I can’t – it’s important. Ambrosini is interested in investing in the Michelangelo label and possibly in the agency. Why don’t you come with me – though it might be boring.”
Rollin smiled, still determined to get her to change her mind. “Jen wouldn’t like it.”
“Well no, she shouldn’t be there – it’s a business meeting. We can drop her with Maria.”
Rollin sighed sheepishly. “Maria’s not home – I gave her a Valentine’s Day present – I sent her to Rancho La Puerta with her sister – she gets back in 3 days.”
“Maria’s gone for 3 days? Rollin I have a financier here for 2 days of meetings. Maria knew –“
“I was pretty insistent – it’s my fault, don’t blame Maria. I wanted you guys all to myself. I didn’t - ” Rollin stopped as Tomasz approached.
Tomasz could tell he was interrupting something. “I’m really sorry, but Fabrizio’s asking for you, Cinnamon.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
“Okay. And Patrick says should he change the dinner reservation?” Tomasz asked.
“No – it will still be the four of us. Tell him I’ll meet them by the cars.” Tomasz nodded and headed off. “Rollin, I’m sorry – I need to do this. Listen, will you stay with Jen?”
“Of course I will.”
She leaned closer to her daughter. “Jennifer, you are so beautiful tonight.”
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“Still thirsty?”
Jennifer nodded No and Cinnamon passed her glass back to Rollin.
“I’m not able to go to dinner with you tonight, so I need to ask you for a rain check. Can you help me and be a big girl and take dad to dinner tonight?”
Jennifer frowned, “Just us.”
Cinnamon nodded. Rollin scooped Jennifer into his arms, “Just us, kiddo. Hopefully we can have dinner with Mommy tomorrow night.”
“Can we dress up tomorrow night?”
“Sure.” Cinnamon laughed and kissed her daughter. She did not kiss Rollin and moved beyond his reach as she told him, “I’ll be late tonight.”
He nodded and kissed Jennifer’s blonde head as he carried her toward the exit.
Dinner was convivial but inconclusive. Fabrizio expressed interest in seeing the books, Cinnamon wanted to be sure he was a serious buyer first. She proposed postponing that discussion until the meeting they had scheduled with her business manager for the next afternoon.
With work off the agenda, Cinnamon felt that Fabrizio was developing an interest in her. He was divorced, seemed to be on good terms with his ex-wife, and was devoted to his four college age children. At 51, he was already one of the most influential financiers in Europe and based his life and business from a villa outside Rome. He was handsome and worldly and emitted a sense of inner calm that Cinnamon found intriguing. Fashion was a personal business – if Fabrizio liked her, he’d have a good impression of her agency. Old training and years of experience helped her gauge her response – she flirted playfully, walking the line, careful never to cross it.
She thought of Rollin. She was sad to have disappointed him and even more sad to disappoint Jen. Mostly though she was mad at Rollin for disappointing Jennifer – and especially for making her the villain of the piece. How could a three year-old understand why her mother chose not to join her and her dad for a special dinner?
She was angry with him for expecting her to once again drop everything for him. No, not angry – furious. How could he ship Maria off this week? She knew she was partly to blame – things had been so hectic she had never fully explained her week to Maria, and Rollin had probably reassured her loyal housekeeper that he would take care of everything. Even Maria could not resist his charm.
After coffee, the group moved to a club nearby and met up with some of the models from the show. The night went on and Cinnamon was conscious that she was a host along with Michael and Patrick and needed to outlast their guest. It wasn’t until Fabrizio asked for his limo at 1:15 am that Cinnamon felt she too could call it a night.
She said her good-byes to Fabrizio, agreeing to meet at his bungalow at the Bel Air the next afternoon. While she waited for the valet to bring her car, Michael and Patrick and the girls headed off to another club. Cinnamon begged off, reminding them she was a working mother.
On the drive home she considered she was also a single mother. She pondered her options with Fabrizio – sell or take a partner, either was a route to financial security for Jennifer as well as herself.
The house was dark, except the entry light, the hallway and the living room. All the bedrooms were dark. Rollin was on East Coast time and had probably followed Jennifer to sleep. She realized she was happy she’d have until morning to see him – maybe she’d be in a better mood by then. She parked next to his convertible and wearily climbed out of her car and into the house. As she shut the door behind her she set the alarm and switched the driveway light to motion sensitive.
The round table in the entry held a glass vase bursting with fragrant pink roses. She stopped – when she left in the morning it had held red roses which had seen better days. Rollin had sent the red roses to her for Valentine’s Day nearly a week earlier. Curious, she leaned into the living room as she passed. Rollin was stretched across the sofa with a script open on his lap. He was still in his handsome new suit, jacket tossed over a nearby chair, sleeves of his blue shirt rolled up on his forearms, collar open, tie askew. He rose as she moved to the doorway.
“Hi.” He smiled.
“Hi. I thought you’d be asleep.” She laid the cape over the chair back.
“I dozed a little. I wanted to see you.” He moved toward her and surrounded her with his embrace. Angry as she was, she didn’t resist him. How could she? His warmth and his scent were so familiar and for weeks she had been imagining both; yearning for a moment like this at the end of a long hard day. He kissed her hair softly as he held her near. “How’d it go?”
“I’m not sure yet.” She didn’t want to get into it – or any discussion really. She was just too tired. “Did you bring those roses?”
“Yep – I brought them for Jen. She loved them.” His hands were caressing her hips and bottom and it was clear that he had been waiting up with purpose. She felt his cheek against hers. Yes, he had shaved.
He realized Cinnamon wasn’t responding to his touch. “Yours are upstairs.” He kissed her neck. “They’re red.”
“You sent me beautiful roses last week.” She turned in his embrace, not pursuing things further.
“Cin, I would have been here if I could. I came as soon as I was finished on the picture.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry I screwed up tonight. I just wanted to have a belated Valentine’s Day with you and Jen.”
“It’s—“ But she stopped herself because she didn’t want to hear herself say it was okay. She had said it too many times. “It’s late. Let’s get some rest. You must be exhausted. I know I am.”
She started for the steps without looking back at him. She knew he would be disappointed. She didn’t want to punish him, but she didn’t want to deal with him either. At the top of the steps she turned to Jennifer’s room and gently opened the door. Her baby was sleeping soundly, clean and pajama’d. That was a relief.
She felt Rollin behind her and his hand slipped through her arm and around her waist pulling her back against him. “You would have been so proud of her - she was the prettiest woman at La Scala. If you had been there, it would have been a tie.” He bit her neck playfully.
Cinnamon backed out of the room, closing the door softly. “What did she have to eat?” As soon as she asked the question she realized she knew the answer and responded with him, “Caesar salad and fettucine Alfredo.” Jennifer would have insisted on eating the same thing her father ordered.
“We missed you,” Rollin continued, pressing her gently against the closed door.
Cinnamon exaggerated a yawn and disengaged to cross the hall. As she entered her bedroom, she saw the extravagant bouquet of red roses – at least three dozen long stems dominated the table near the door to the balcony. “Rollin…”
He wasn’t sure how to respond. She seemed to be unhappy with him about more than one thing. She wasn’t just pre-occupied – she was disappointed, maybe even mad. “Cinnamon, I wanted to show you how sorry I was for being away on Valentine’s Day. And now I’m sorry about tonight and about Maria. And I’m not sure what else I need to apologize for.”
Cinnamon hung her head. She so did not want to go down this path. She glanced at the clock on her dresser. It was after two am. “Rollin, they’re beautiful. It’s so late. Let’s talk tomorrow.” She heard his frustrated sigh as she moved to the bathroom without meeting his eye, shutting the door behind her.
She decided to take a shower, partly hoping it would encourage him to fall asleep. She stood under the stream of hot water realizing how tense her shoulders felt. She took a deep breath, rotated her shoulders, and noted she needed to release her clenched jaw too. She was so angry at Rollin. Somehow it didn’t push aside her desire to feel his warm, comforting arms around her. She suddenly felt conflicted. She was pushing him away because she was mad at him for not being close to her more often. Who said there needed to be logic? She felt what she felt.
She brushed her wet hair back and pulled a beige negligee over her head. She quickly brushed her teeth and applied some moisturizer and hand cream before turning out the light.
Rollin was in bed, his light off, the light on her side turned low. She could see he was shirtless and wondered if he was wearing anything at all. She climbed onto her side of the bed and slid under the covers, turning away from him.
He spoke before she turned off her light. “Am I really just Jennifer’s father?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could be anywhere but there. Then she turned toward him, “What do you mean?”
“That’s what you told Ambrosini, when you introduced me.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
Rollin exhaled sharply. “I don’t know.”
“Well I haven’t figured it out either.” The irritation she heard in her own voice surprised her. But then Cinnamon felt exacerbated. She rolled away from him. “You didn’t exactly give me time to prepare my lines.”
“I’ve already apologized for that.” His voice was low and cold. She was much more used to Rollin’s hot temper than frosty ire. So he was angry – so was she. She didn’t turn around.
She tried to keep her voice calm. “Can we talk about this tomorrow – after I’ve figured out what I can do with my toddler during the most important business negotiation of my career.” She regretted it the moment she heard herself say it. Her instinct not to engage tonight had been right and she had blown it.
He flew out of bed, coming round to her side, standing in front of her in the light. She could see the flames shooting from his eyes and his hands as he punched the air around him. “I’m sorry I gave your beloved housekeeper a break from looking after you and your daughter. I’m sorry the father of your toddler is just an irresponsible actor. I’m especially sorry I interrupted your evening with the dashing Fabrizio ‘let me kiss your hand, you are a beautiful and gracious woman.’” He had Ambrosini’s voice down pat.
Cinnamon took a deep breath. “It’s late-“
“I’m late, I’m not here, I don’t call, I don’t check first, I’m not a multi-millionaire financier.”
“This is not about Fabrizio.”
“Isn’t it? You wouldn’t even kiss me goodbye in front of him. You won’t let me touch you now.”
“Rollin, you set me up as the bad guy with Jen.”
“Jen’s fine. This isn’t about Jennifer.”
“Isn’t it? She nearly picks up a glass of champagne because she is thirsty, but you’d never notice because your eyes are glued to the cleavage of a nineteen year-old model!”
Rollin knew better than to respond directly. Besides he had one he had been saving. “I called your office at two and at three. Before Maria left. Alice said you were behind closed doors, but she’d give you the message.”
Cinnamon felt her eyes water. She lowered them. “I didn’t give her a chance to.” She sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Rollin.” Despite her best efforts she began to cry. She turned away from Rollin and curled her hands up by her face, not wanting him to see her tears.
He was upset by her reaction and disappointed in himself. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered softly. She so rarely cried, and to know he had caused it made him feel hollow.
“I’m not so sure.”
“Trust me. We both know most of the time I wouldn’t have called.” He sighed, not sure what to say or do. “I’m sorry too.” He sat tentatively on her edge of the bed and reached for her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Don’t cry, Sweetheart.”
She sighed, still curled on her side facing away from him. “I’m so tired…” He knew she meant emotionally as well as physically.
Rollin was still tentative. “I know we‘re not going to figure this out tonight, but can I just hold you. For a month it’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
Cinnamon felt her heart skip. She rubbed her eyes and turned toward him, nodding yes, trying not to cry. He twisted his legs under the covers. She slid over to him and curled against his chest. He pulled her gently into his arms and she felt her bare legs entwine with his, warm through his silky pajama bottoms. He kissed her temple softly. “I love you.” He was so tentative about her reaction that it was almost a question.
“I love you.” She leaned forward to softly touch her lips to his and she could sense his relief. She lay her head against his shoulder and inhaled slowly, waiting for the warm comforting scent she associated only with him. His hand trailed down her back and held her close to his chest.
“Can I have a gimme? A do-over for tonight?” He whispered softly in her ear, a low throaty whisper that always made her quiver. His lips brushed against her ear lobe.
Cinnamon smiled and opened her eyes to meet his. His thumb massaged her tears away, but they kept coming. He held her face gently still and softly kissed her tears, tasting the salty moisture on his lips. She pulled herself closer, pulling herself deeper into his embrace, pressing against him to feel his warmth. She rubbed his chest soothingly.
They were both aware that her actions were arousing him. His husky whisper continued in her ear. “I don’t want to ever hurt you. I want to love you, always, forever.” She raised her lips to meet his in response. He cupped her breast in his hand as he rolled her onto her back, continuing the kiss. It made the nerve endings between her legs tingle.
Her nipple stiffened under his fingers through the lace panel of her gown, but he wasn’t sure if she would encourage him or not. “Let me make love to you.” In response, she reached for the string to his pajama bottoms and pulled it out of the bow. That left little doubt. His pants easily opened at the waist and she lowered the loose smooth silk to just below his balls. He was already partially hard and rose like a helium balloon when she exposed his length. She held him firmly in her hand.
“Oummm,” he moaned as he lowered the shoulder strap of her gown so his lips could tease her breast. “Careful, that’s a loaded gun.”
She laughed; her tears now abating, and relaxed her grip. She raised her knees, spreading them so he could lie between her legs. His mouth softly suckled her breast as his fingers trailed down her torso, lifted her gown, and crept toward her moist opening. She was surprised that she was so quickly aroused, given her feelings just moments ago. But her analytical interest faded as he stroked her, parting her outer lips and entering her.
His finger made a slow orbit around the circumference of her passage. He circled again and again, slowly, pressing outwards. Her moan was hearty and she was happy anticipating the release she knew would come. She moved her lips across his neck so her tongue could meet his and replicate the delicate dance of joy his finger was performing inside her.
A second finger joined his first to orbit her internally. When he reversed his direction, her hips bucked against him and she exhaled throatily. She felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and reached for his face. She pressed her forehead to his. “Only you – you are the only one for me - always.” Her eyes watered again and the astonishing thing was she realized his had too. “No one else, Rollin.”
He buried his head against her neck. His fingers stopped moving inside her, but he held her there softly, cradling her with his hand. She caressed his neck. “You must know that.” She lifted his face and could see from his expression that he hadn’t, and that he was awfully glad to hear her say it. “Sweetheart.” She kissed him sensually; nibbling his lip as he moved his body across her, his hands propped on either side of her waist so he could rise over her.
She tilted her pelvis up to meet his and he entered her smoothly. Every time she was reminded of the first time – when they finally gave into the magnetic attraction, when the perfect interweaving of their bodies had convinced her agency rules be damned. The incredible sensation had given her complete certainty that he was the man she was meant to love and be loved by. His narrow hips and tight ass between her legs and his powerful thighs surging against her were a perfect fit and together they created an awesome heat. The feelings it had given her of vitality, of power, of security and of love were all new to her.
Their eyes met and they stayed focused completely on one another as he moved along her passage. His balls pressed against her when he bored into her and the tip of his shaft tickled her lips as he glided away from her, only to return insistently. He shuddered. She knew he would come quickly and wrapped her legs around his hips to let him know it was okay.
Rollin was panting. “Cin … I’ve wanted you so badly today.”
Her arms snaked under his and she grasped his shoulders to pull her body even closer to his. It shortened the length of his strokes but not the intensity. “Love me,” she murmured.
“I will. I will.” He committed as he shifted his hips from side to side not changing the rhythm of his motion. She pulsed her internal muscles against him. “Oh, Cinnamon.”
She felt him pull back slightly hoping to prolong her enjoyment. “No, don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.” She dug her heels into his butt cheeks, urging him to continue his pace. He needed little encouraging and lifted her hips to allow him to penetrate her even more deeply. It flipped a switch for her and she knew she too was now on the edge.
“Oooaah,” she exclaimed huskily and he recognized her sound. Knowing she was near was an incentive for him to hold out that little bit longer. When he could no longer resist, he exploded within her, driving her against the mattress with the force of his energy. She gasped, riding the wave he created within her, matching his climax with her own.
He looked down into her eyes, kissing the beads of sweat off her forehead, and moving a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you so much.” He said between deep breaths.
She smiled sweetly. “I know. Me too.” He started to withdraw from her. “Stay. Stay in me as long as you can.”
Rollin smiled back. “Yes, my queen,” he teased. He shifted his weight onto his elbows, leaning forward to circle her nipples with his tongue and nibble playfully along her neck. “Happier?” he asked looking into her soft green eyes.
She nodded. “Ecstatically happy. Which I hadn’t thought was within my range of emotions earlier today.”
Rollin grinned, “Don’t forget - I get a do-over for the whole day. That includes this last part.”
“There’s a lot I need to do-over too.” Cinnamon stifled a yawn.
“I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep inside you.” Rollin whispered.
“It is a strange day indeed,” she teased and rolled with him onto their sides. Their lips met softly. They fell asleep quickly.
Rumbling.
Glass creaking.
Shaking.
The roses fall over.
The shrill alarm goes and rings incessantly.
Their eyes meet in the pale moonlight.
“Get Jen” she says as he is already leaping off of bed and out the door.
She heard him slam into the frame of Jennifer’s door and heard his curse. She followed him as quickly as she could.
He grabbed Jen off the bed and moved to the door jam, meeting Cinnamon there and pulling her under one arm so he was enfolding both of them. As the house swayed and they could hear glass breaking he tucked Cinnamon’s head against Jen’s, covering both with his own.
Slowly the rumbling stopped and the swaying slowed. It was very dark. The alarm was beeping incessantly. The clock was stopped at 6:45 am.
Jennifer asked calmly, “Mommy is the alarm broken?”
Cinnamon was astonished by her daughter’s composure, “Yes, Sweetie. That’s it.” She took Jennifer from Rollin and held her close.
“The power’s out – how can the alarm keep going?” Rollin asked.
“Barney installed that back-up generator.”
“I’m gonna go look at the alarm and try to shut it off. I’ll check the gas. You okay here?”
“Yeah. Rollin, get shoes, before you go. There’s a flashlight in my bedside table drawer.”
Rollin nodded and went first to Jennifer’s closet. She noticed he was favoring his right leg. He had to climb over books, toys and framed pictures that fell off the wall in the quake. He pulled out Jen’s red Keds. While Cinnamon cradled Jennifer, Rollin put her sneakers on her feet, over her footie pajamas.
“Daddy these aren’t socks.”
“Kiddo, we all need to wear shoes because some things fell over and broke.”
“Even Mommy?”
“Yes, even Mommy.” Cinnamon answered, laying her cheek against her daughter’s head.
“Daddy, why are you naked?”
“’Cause I forgot my pajamas.”
“Are you cold?”
“No, but I might get cold. Let’s go get my pajamas.” There was enough illumination from the moon and stars to see his way across the hall. Pictures had fallen off the wall, but no glass had broken in the carpeted hallway. Rollin shepherded both of them back to the master bedroom.
He found his pajama pants in the bed and quickly pulled them on. Next, he went to the closet and pulled out tennis shoes for himself and flats for Cinnamon. Cinnamon held Jen tightly against her in the doorway, still unnerved by the significant quake and anticipating aftershocks. She slipped her feet into the shoes Rollin placed before her and smiled thankfully as he straightened the straps of her nightgown.
Rollin quickly laced his shoes and took a minute to raise his pajama leg over his knee. It was already badly bruised. Cinnamon winced on seeing it. “There’s ice in the freezer.”
“Yeah, okay. Lemme get rid of that racket.” He rose and held her elbow softly. “You okay here?”
She smiled, grateful he was with them. “We’ll be fine.”
He squeezed her arm and caressed Jennifer’s head then hurried downstairs with the flashlight. Five minutes later the alarm finally stopped. The new silence was eerie, especially in the dark.
Suddenly, the rumbling started and the house shuddered again. Cinnamon pressed against the door jam. Rollin bellowed from downstairs, “Cin?”
“We’re okay – wait there ‘til it stops!” It seemed like minutes, but she knew it was only seconds. As it petered out, she heard Rollin running up the steps. “Rollin?”
Jennifer turned in her arms. “What’s the matter Mommy?” She sensed her mother’s fear and as a result some of her own composure was shattering.
Rollin arrived, breathing heavily and pulled them both into his arms. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart,” he told Jennifer as he kissed her head, then turned to meet Cinnamon’s lips with his own. “I turned the gas off, but it smelled okay – I don’t think there were any leaks. The phone’s down.”
“That was a big one, wasn’t it?”
Rollin nodded. “The house seems okay, though, just some broken glass. Have you got a radio? A battery one?”
“In the study, in the bookshelves.”
“What else can I get?”
Cinnamon turned to her daughter, her head resting on Rollin’s shoulder. “Jen, would you like some juice?”
The three year-old nodded. The house shook again – this time not as long or as violently. Rollin smiled at his daughter. “That wasn’t so bad. Will you keep an eye on Mommy while I go get everyone some juice?” Jen nodded again and he passed her back to Cinnamon.
He brought up a tray with the radio, juice, cookies, water, some favorite storybooks, and a few candles. The trio sat together on the edge of the king-size bed. The sun was slowly coming up on the dark February morning.
Reports indicated a moderate size quake on a fault near Point Mugu. Some areas of the city sustained significant damage while others were unscathed. There were reports of ongoing aftershocks. Details were sketchy. Rollin opted to save the battery and tune in again later when more information might be available.
Cinnamon moved for her robe and tossed Rollin a sweatshirt. She righted the vase of roses that had fallen unscathed onto the deep pile carpet. She placed a towel over the spilled water and replaced the water in the vase. He lit two candles for her bedside table. They scooted back against the headboard with Jennifer safely between them. “Mom, I have my sneakers on, on the bed.”
“I know Sweetie, but it’s okay. We’re all going to keep our shoes on. The earthquake made some glass break.” Cinnamon passed her a cup of apple juice.
“It was bumpy.” Jennifer declared solemnly.
Rollin smiled at her calm, matter of fact reporting. “Sure was. Noisy too,” he said as he lay a blanket across the three of them. He turned onto his side toward his daughter, taking her plastic cup when she finished her drink.
“The alarm was broken.” Jen told him earnestly. Then she sighed and lay back calmly against the pillows. There wasn’t much better than wearing shoes on the bed, drinking juice, and eating cookies with Mommy AND Daddy. Rollin looked past her and beamed at Cinnamon. “Daddy, let’s read,” the three year-old commanded.
“Okay, Pumpkin. Choose a story.” He passed her the three books he had brought up and took a candle from Cinnamon for his side of the bed. Jennifer selected Green Eggs and Ham. She was a big fan of Dr. Seuss and Cinnamon suspected Rollin was too. He seemed to particularly relish the absurd humor and clever rhymes. She watched them curl up together and he read softly, allowing Jennifer to finish off the lines she had already memorized.
Cinnamon felt her heart rate calm as she lay on the bed listening to the soothing voices of her lover and child. She was so glad he was here with them. She accepted earthquakes were part of southern California living, but her previous life as a busy model and active agent had kept her out of town for all the major ones. She realized this was the biggest quake she had experienced. Or did it just seem that way because her feelings for Jennifer and the need to keep her safe intensified everything she felt?
She thought about Rollin’s knee smashing against the woodwork as he ran to get to Jennifer. He hadn’t brought any ice upstairs. She should go get it. Jennifer was fine here with him and she should get a look at the damage the quake had wrought. And next time, what were the odds he would be here? She would need to be brave then for Jennifer. Going down there now could help build her confidence.
What had the odds been that he would arrive yesterday? She felt like she was always wondering where he would be. Why? Why couldn’t they figure out a conventional arrangement that meant he would always be here, to take care of them, to let her be scared sometimes too, not to have to always be Jennifer’s brave mother? And she wanted him there to love her, every night, the way he had tonight.
Her daughter had decided to read the story a second time – part of the ritual. Jennifer “read” more of the lines and Cinnamon decided to wait for the grand finale before going for the ice. She had been so mad at him last night. She knew she had been so cold, still he got her to melt. That was only hours ago.
The story ended for a second time. Cinnamon rose for the window, pulling the drapes closed against the rising sun. The candlelight gave her bedroom a romantic glow she had come to associate with Rollin. He seemed to be thinking along similar lines and gave her a warm smile as Jennifer snuggled against him.
“Sweetheart, stay with Daddy and see if you want to sleep more. It’s very early. I’ll be right back.” Jen seemed content and closed her eyes. Cinnamon mouthed “Ice” to Rollin and he nodded his thanks. He was softly rubbing Jennifer’s back and she knew there was a good chance he’d coax her back to sleep.
The entry was a disaster zone. The rose vase had broken on the marble floor. Pink roses were floundering in the puddle of water. Many stems had broken. She rescued as many buds as she could before picking out the glass and roughly mopping up the floor. She knew she’d need to do a more thorough job later. She wanted to save the flowers Rollin had brought for Jennifer and put them into a plastic pitcher with water.
The kitchen was another disaster zone. For the first time Cinnamon was glad Rollin had sent Maria away. Maria hated earthquakes and would be in tears at the sight of her kitchen. She hoped Rancho La Puerta was out of the range of this morning’s quake.
She gathered ice in a plastic bag and wrapped it in a tea towel. She didn’t want to deal with any of this right now. She went back upstairs.
Jennifer was asleep. Cinnamon started to sit next to her and Rollin reached for her hand, encouraging her to walk around the bed and join him on his side. She didn’t resist and set the ice on his bedside table as she moved into his arms. He held her closely and she felt her whole body exhale as she accepted the warmth and safety he was offering. He kissed her hair and her ear and her cheek, then her lips.
“Rollin, I’m so glad you are here.”
He smiled. “Well that makes a nice change.” But there was no malice in his voice. He kissed her again, holding her against him, shifting to lay side by side with Jennifer behind him.
“I am sorry, it’s just –“
He kissed her again to stop her. “Hey – I think we already made up. I’m sorry too. And I’m glad I’m here. I would have been out of my mind with worry.”
She stroked his cheek, knowing it was true. “I wish –“
Suddenly the phone rang, surprising both of them. Jen didn’t stir as Cinnamon reached for it. “Hello?” A smile came to her face. “We’re fine – what about you?” She mouthed ‘Barney’ to Rollin. “No you don’t need to come. Rollin’s here – he got it turned off … Not much, glass mostly. How about you? …Are Paula and the kids okay? …Good… She’s fallen back to sleep – not upset at all…Okay, will do.”
She replaced the phone and handed Rollin the ice, watching him place it gingerly against his knee. “Barney’s fine. Superficial damage as he reports it and Grant wanting him to make it do it again.”
Rollin smiled. “Well if the phone’s back up, that’s a good sign.” He looked over his shoulder at Jennifer, still fast asleep. “Now, where were we?”
THE END