Grounded

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Authors: R. K. Lilley
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lunch with Lana, this really nice lady, and a close friend of James’s that I met last week.   You guys have a late night?”   Clearly they had, since Javier was face down on the bed, out cold.  
    Stephan chuckled.   “You could say that.   We went a little nuts with the car and driver.”
    Javier made a very sexual sound from the bed, moving against the covers in a suggestive way.  
    I blushed.
    Stephan laughed.   “He’s dreaming about me.   Have fun, Bee.   Love you.”  
    “Love you, too,” I said, beating a hasty retreat.   The guys obviously needed their privacy.  

    Lana was already waiting inside of the Light Café in the Cavendish hotel when I got there.   She was seated in one of the well-spaced center tables, next to a huge, but strangely quiet, stone fountain.   It was a huge dining room, with the top and three sides lined with windows, letting in an almost blinding amount of light.   I had to put my shades back on as I entered the café .
    The decor was all gray stone and red detailing, as though little pieces of Red, which was next door, had bled into the restaurant.  
    She stood and gave me a warm hug when I approached the table.   She wore an ivory pencil skirt, with a white men’s dress shirt.   It would have been very business-like attire, if not for her swimsuit model figure and her peep-toe crimson stilettos.   Her jewelry was simple and gold, with hoops at her ears, and a plain band at her neck and wrist.   All of the wealthy women I’d been introduced to of late seemed to wear less extravagant jewelry than I did.   It was an alarming thought.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my security positioning themselves around the room.  
    We sat.        
    “James is incorrigible.   I swear he called the paparazzi on me!   They were outside photographing me when I arrived.   I usually don’t get paparazzi, unless of course I’m hanging out with James.   I’m just too boring.   But now they’re going to print a piece about how even the Middleton heiress prefers the Cavendish hotel, damn him.”
    I laughed, because she was damning him with a genuinely fond smile on her face.  
    We both ordered plain tea and water.   Lana smiled at me.   “We really could be sisters.   So tell me, how is it going with James?   You know he’s hopelessly in love with you, right?”
    I blushed and swallowed.   “He’s wonderful, but so overwhelming.   I’m not the type to rush into anything, even if it’s something small, but he just doesn’t get it.   I love being with him, but it’s been a roller-coaster.”  
    “That’s why you needed time apart.   I get it,” she said, her voice rich with understanding and sympathy.   “He was so sad that month, so…bereft.   I’d never seen him like that before.   I’m glad he got you back.   He needs you, Bianca.   Everyone should get to experience a love like that.   That kind of love makes us better people.”  
    Her words made me think of the man she’d referred to briefly the first time we’d met.   I still remembered the name, since it had held such meaning to her just at its utterance.  
    The waitress returned just then to bring our drinks and take our orders.   I got a turkey melt on wheat bread with sweet potato fries.   I thought it was strange fair for such a posh café to have on the menu, but it sounded good to me.  
    “Tell me about Akira Kalua,” I said, because she’d promised me she would.  
    She gave me a mock glare.   “I knew you wouldn’t forget about that.”   She sighed heavily.   “I’ve been in love with him since I was ten.   Unfortunately, he was twenty when I was ten.   That was fine.   I was content to wait.   I bided my time, enjoying his company, taking up as much of his time as I could manage.   He taught me to surf.   His family as good as adopted me when my parents left Maui.   He made me laugh.   God, did he make me laugh.   My happiest memories are of playing

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