by Mia Kayla
“Karen, there’s also this other place down the street I want to try after this.”
“Whatever you want, honey. This is your day.”
Crystal stood at attention as my words sank in. She gave me her winning smile as she sensed her commission slipping through her fingers. “Ms. Casse, we do carry the most designers. Let’s try on some dresses, shall we?”
Mirrors surrounded me as I was elevated on a circular step in the dressing room that was as big as my apartment. The Monique Lhuillier wedding gown clung to my body tightly from my bust to my waist and flared to a Cinderella-style organza skirt accented with pickups. I couldn’t breathe as every time I exhaled my rib cage pushed against the bodice of the dress.
Through the mirror, I noticed Mrs. Plack’s smile, displayed full of awe. It seemed as if she might cry, and I thought I might too, but not for the same reason. I tugged the piece of white paper attached to the dress I was wearing, and my eyes widened at the fifteen-thousand-dollar price tag. I dropped the paper as if I’d been burned, and I couldn’t prevent my jaw from dropping as I thought of what other useful purchases could have been made with that kind of money.
“Honey, don’t look at the price tag. Jack and I have been looking forward to this day. Please don’t be shy. I want everything to be wonderful,” she said, searching my face. “Don’t let the money stop you from getting what you want.”
When she moved closer, I realized that she was holding back tears. Her eyes filled with such strong emotion that the warmth in them moved me.
“You’re going to make a lovely bride, Beth.”
I bit my lip to prevent myself from tearing up as well. She had never referred to herself as mom, and Mr. Plack had never done the same with dad before. But for a small moment, I secretly wished that I were marrying into this loving family to have a mother to do these things with, to have that motherly touch. With Nana gone, I craved and missed that bond so badly.
“What do you think?” My voice was slightly hoarse.
“I love it on you,” Karen said, touching the beading by my waist.
“Me, too,” I lied. Actually, I hated it, but looking at Karen’s face, I just wanted to see her happy.
“Honey, it’s the first dress you’ve tried on. Are you sure you don’t want to try on others?”
I nodded. I didn’t want to try on any more when I knew I’d hate them all. Why prolong the daylong torture of trying on dress after dress when I know my real dress is not here or at any other upscale department store?
“You sure you don’t want to try on any more?” Karen asked again, surveying the dress one last time.
“I’m sure. I love it,” I lied again.
Karen grabbed both of my shoulders to face her. “Beth, you are going to be such a beautiful bride.” She enveloped me in a hug as I saw Crystal Kensingston smile at the buy we were about to make.
As we walked into the Club International restaurant of the Drake Hotel, I took in the private dining room cloaked in oak wood as we faced a large Gothic fireplace.
Karen’s eyes crinkled at me as we were seated. “I’m so excited. We have the dress.”
I returned her smile, pleased at her contentment and delighted that I was in her presence. Her carefree aura was contagious, and just being around her made this experience less painful. I would never cease to wonder where this wonderful woman had come from.
After the waiter took our orders, Karen turned to me. “I can’t wait for the big day. We’re only a couple of weeks away.” She sipped her tea and placed the fine china cup, rimmed with a gold trim, back on top of the saucer .
“I know. It’s all happening so fast,” I said.
“Thanks for being patient with him. Kent is not a very patient man. He takes that after his father, but what Kent lacks in patience, he makes up with his big heart.”
She took another sip of tea as she leaned back against her chair. “Right after we were married, we tried for years and years to conceive. We consulted the best doctors, and they couldn’t find anything wrong. Jack suggested that we adopt. I wasn’t against adoption, but I loved Jack so much that I wanted the flesh of his flesh. I wanted his child.” A melancholy smile passed her face as she recalled the struggles of her past. “Then, I decided to throw in the towel and call the adoption agency. I knew Jack would be the perfect father, just like his father, and I wanted to see that happen…and that’s the week I found out I was pregnant.”
She took a deep breath. “The first time I held our little boy in my arms in the delivery room, I studied every feature from the dark fuzz on the top of his head to his cute nose to his big, round brown eyes, and I knew there was nothing more beautiful,” she said. “That’s the first and only time I’ve ever seen my husband cry.” She shook her head to bring herself into focus.
“And so, as you can tell, he is spoiled. We showered him with love and everything he’s ever wanted. He was our one and only even though we kept trying through my child-bearing years.” She fiddled with the rock on her ring finger. “He is how he is because of his upbringing. I take full responsibility for his spoiled side and his obnoxious side and the side of him that doesn’t like the word no. But I also take responsibility for his softer side, his loyal side, the way he loves, and how when he cares, he cares deeply. He’s always pampered this old woman, and he’s spoiled me rotten, just like his father.” She chuckled. “I can only imagine how he’ll pamper you for the rest of his life.”
I was privileged to know Kent’s softer side, a side only a few people had been allowed to see, a side of him that he’d allowed me to see. If someone had told me that first day when we met that he’d turn out to be one of my best friends in Chicago, I never would have believed it. But I’d grown to care for him and his well-being, and overall, I liked being around him. I enjoyed his company.
“So, are you up for more shopping? We still need to pick out the cake and the flowers. Oh, and also we need to choose your shoes!”
I thought I made a not-so-cute face because Karen laughed.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never had a daughter to do this with. I guess I’m a little excited, if you can’t tell already.”
I made up my mind that every decision I had to make in planning this wedding would be to make her happy. I’d have my time later to choose what I wanted when I planned my own wedding.
Licking my fingers, I pulled out a napkin from my pocket and wiped the remnants of chocolate from my hands. Who knew cupcakes from a truck are more delicious than the ones bought from a cupcake store? Seriously, it was the best thing ever.
I glanced at the clear plastic container in my hand that held a little piece of chocolate heaven, and I had to restrain myself from taking a bite of Kent’s cupcake. Instead, I dipped my finger into his frosting and brought it to my lips. He’ll never know. I closed the container and slipped it into the clear bag.
I waved at the security guard as I entered Trump Tower, swinging the bag with every step. When I keyed into Kent’s place, I was unpleasantly surprised.
“Hey.”
“Hi, Luke.” The smile I had left my face instantly.
“What do you have there?” he asked, nodding toward the clear plastic bag I was holding. “Did you bring me something sweet?”
Sitting on the couch, he had one hand behind his head while the other held the remote control. He flipped through the channels while his eyes followed me through the room.
“It’s for Kent.” I dropped my gaze to the floor and backed up until I felt the door flush against my back.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I like sweet.” His voice was low, hoarse.
The undercurrent in his tone gave me the chills but not the good kind.
My eyes scanned the apartment. “Sorry, is Kent here?”
“No, he’s not. Come and take a seat. He should be back soon,” he said, patting the empty spot next to him.
I shook my head and felt my shoulders tense. “It’s okay. I’ll just come back later.” I shifted my weight
from one foot to the other and averted my eyes from him to the TV.
“Come on, keep me company.”
“Uh…do you know where he went?” I asked, fiddling with the straps of the cupcake bag.
Luke shook his head. “No, but I’m sure he’ll be back.” He patted the seat next to him again. “Promise, I won’t bite.”
I sat at the edge of the recliner next to the couch. An awkward tension occupied the air, and I shifted in my seat, tapping my foot against the floor. I decided I would wait ten minutes tops and then leave.
“I thought I’d pay Kent a visit since I haven’t seen him in weeks.” Luke dropped the remote on the table in front of him and shifted to face me, resting both elbows on his knees. “So, I see you have a key, too?”
“Yeah, he gave it to me. You know, in case he gets locked out and stuff,” I said, glancing at him once before moving my eyes back to the TV.
“You surprise me, Beth.”
When he moved closer to the recliner, I moved my knees in the other direction, feeling my jaw lock and my body stiffen at his closeness.
“When he brought you to the club, I thought you were just another one of his girls, but you’re not his usual type. He likes blondes and the not-so-sweet ones.”
Warily watching him, I shifted in my seat as he moved closer.
“I’m curious about you,” he said, inching forward slowly. “You know the night after we went out clubbing, he called me to tell me you were off-limits. I wasn’t even allowed to breathe in your direction. He wasn’t asking. He was warning me, and I wondered why.” His eyes inspected me from my face to my chest, resting there, before looking back up to my eyes.
“When I would invite him out, he’d say no because he was with you. When I’d invite myself to your dinners, he’d say that you guys were basically done for the evening. I got the hint after a while. After that, I realized one thing…” He inched forward, leaning into me. Our knees were almost touching, and the first instinct I had was to recoil. “He’s protective over you.”
I froze at his closeness, the hairs on my arms standing at full attention.
His eyes narrowed and watched me like a cat. “So, I wondered why. Why would a playboy millionaire give up going out and getting different pussy every single night?”
My eyes widened at his vulgar statement, and I reeled back. When I glared at him, he laughed.
“You wanna know why?” He shifted closer, so he could whisper in my ear. “Because he’s getting some good pussy at home, that’s why.”
He gripped my knee to the point of pain, and I shoved his hand.
“Get your hands off me!”
I jolted up from the couch, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back down.
“I want to try this flavor. I want to try sweet for once. Maybe after, I’ll be a good boy, too.”
“In your dreams, bastard.”
I rammed both hands into his chest, but he gripped my wrists tightly, cutting off the blood circulation. He pushed my shoulders to the seat with such force that my neck whipped against the couch, my head bouncing off the cushions. All at once, he was on top of me and had me trapped between his knees.
“Get off of me! Get off!” I screamed. I thrashed back and forth, but my efforts were useless.
I couldn’t move as he moved my wrists with one hand above my head.
“Stop!”
I tried to buck him off of me, but he was too strong.
“Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The first of the tears started to roll off of my face as I realized where this was heading. When I felt him aroused against my leg, I whipped around more. He tightened his knees, and with his free hand, he caressed my breast.
“I like them nice and full.” He licked my tears off my cheek.
“Help!” I let out the loudest scream until my voice was hoarse. All I could hear was my muffled sobs, and all I could taste were my own tears as fear shook my body.
He covered my mouth with his hand, and I bit down hard enough to taste blood.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he had a small devilish smile on his face. “The difference between Kent and me is that I like it rough.”
With his free hand, he pulled up my skirt.
“No! Please! No!” I begged.
When he tightened his grip with one hand and started to unbuckle his belt with the other, my mind screamed for me to fight. Drawing enough saliva from the back of my throat, I spit in his face. The sound of the slap across my face resonated throughout the whole condo.
“You want it rough, too?” he scowled.
I spit in his face again, and he slapped me harder, my teeth shifting from the impact.
“Get the hell off her!”
Luke and I turned to the door to see Kent.
Before I knew what was happening, Kent exploded from the door, yanked Luke by his collar, and had him suspended against the wall.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kent yelled, shoving Luke against the wall so hard that his head banged against it. “What are you into now? Rape? What are you thinking?”
“Get off me! I-I can’t breathe,” Luke said, clawing at his own throat.
“What? You can only handle fighting with women? Is that it?” Kent had both hands tightened against his windpipe. “I should kill you. I’ll call the cops and tell them it was self-defense.” Kent’s jaw was taut, and there was a tightness around his eyes that I didn’t recognize. “I’m going to kill you for touching her. I told you to stay away.”
Luke’s face blanched as Kent continued to use both hands to hold him up against the wall, his face inches from Luke’s.
“Stop.” I slowly stood from the couch and pulled down my skirt. I was frightened at the intensity of his words, frightened at Kent’s stance, and scared that there was some truth in what he’d just said. “Kent, stop.” I held my cheek that was still pulsing from the earlier impact. “Please,” I begged, edging closer toward him.
At the sound of my voice, Kent turned and loosened his grip, which gave Luke an opportunity. Luke pushed Kent and fell to the ground on all fours, coughing and gasping for air.
“You’re going to pick that whore over me?” Luke said, using the wall to steady himself.
I heard the impact from across the room as Kent’s fist rammed a direct hit into Luke’s face. Dribbles of blood flowed from Luke’s nose.
“Did you fucking hit her?” Kent asked, glancing back at me as I held my cheek.
Luke staggered and got up again, and the second punch was even louder.
Kent pulled back to take a third swing. “I’m going to mess you up for hurting her, you bastard.”
But I grabbed his arm before he could follow through. “Please. Stop. Enough.” I used both hands to pull his arm down. “Please. Stop.” I couldn’t stand any more violence and I didn’t want to see any more blood.
Kent turned to Luke, who had fallen on the ground. “Get out!” he yelled, pointing at the door.
Luke used the wall to assist himself into an almost standing position. Blood was everywhere—on the floor, on his shirt, on his face. “You’re going to let our friendship end because of that girl?”
Kent narrowed his eyes at him. “We’re not friends, Luke. We have never, ever been friends. You think just because we used to get drunk every night and we’d pick up girls to screw that we had a friendship?” he asked. “We’re not friends. We were people who partied together. It’s not the same thing,” he snapped. “Get the hell out of my condo.”
Luke spit blood onto the floor and glared at me. “You think he can settle down with one girl? I’ve known him since we were eighteen, and he’s never settled down. He never will. He will leave you so fast, you’ll be crying from a broken heart.” He glanced back at Kent one last time before he spun around, stormed out, and slammed the door behind him.
All of a sudden, the fight left me. I felt instantly tired and dropped onto Kent’s couch.
Kent was still facing the door as his hands stayed fisted at his sides. “I should go after that guy and beat him senseless.”
“He’s not even worth it,” I said, holding my cheek, feeling a pulsing pain that spread throughout the whole right side of my face.
Kent turned toward me, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry.”
He walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out an ice pack. “I forgot that I’d given him a key.” He sat by me and lightly brushed my hair away from my forehead. “If anything happened to you…” He shook his head, shutting his eyes tightly, as a shudder ran through his body.
He removed my hand from my cheek and placed the ice pack on it. I flinched at the coldness.
“Shh…stay still,” he said softly, running his finger up and down my jaw line.
His face was so desolate, so sad. I felt a sudden need to console him. “I bought you a cupcake,” I said, looking up at him.
He peered down at me, holding my eyes, his chestnut brown to my emerald green. “I’ve never wanted to hurt someone so badly.” He squinted and shook his head to compose himself. “I still want to kill him.”
“But if you kill him, then you’ll go to jail, and you won’t be able to eat your cupcake,” I said.
“Beth, it’s not funny,” he said, gazing down at me.
He was right. I always used humor as a defense mechanism of some sort. I shivered at the thought of what had almost happened.
“I know. I’m just glad you showed up when you did,” I said. “Jesse didn’t care if I was there. He’d still hit my mom.” I cringed at the memory. “You know, she’s feisty and has a mouth on her. Sometimes, I thought he did it to just shut her up.” I glanced up at Kent through my lashes. “But you know what? No one ever deserves this,” I said, placing my hand on top of his that was still on my cheek.
“No. No woman ever deserves to be hit by a man—ever. He’s a coward if he does.” Kent adjusted the ice pack. “My father would never even think of raising a hand to my mother. Even at his angriest moments, he would never do that.” He lifted the ice pack and shook his head. “I think you might have a bruise by the morning.”
