by Shayne Ford
She pauses for a moment, searching my eyes.
I look at her, expressionless.
“I would exercise caution if I were you...” she mutters. “She might be a gold digger for all you know. Someone who opens her legs and forgets to take her pill, hoping to get a lifelong meal ticket.”
Calmly, I rise to my feet, roll my cigarette to the corner of my mouth, grab the hem of the immaculate tablecloth with both hands, and in one swift motion, I yank it off the table.
All the plates, flatware, glasses and floral arrangements crash onto the floor in a deafening sound of broken glass and metallic clinking.
Livid, she pushes back in her chair.
Silent, I motion to a couple of servers who enter the terrace carrying the entrees.
Swiftly, they twirl away.
Shifting my focus back to her, I hover over the table and wrap my finger around her string of pearls. Out of instinct, she pulls back, her necklace straining against her neck.
Tearing the cigarette away from my lips, I blow out the smoke.
“Listen, Elia. It would benefit you to pay attention to what I say to you from time to time. I’m not going to repeat the same shit over and over again. I told you once that Tara Hart was off limits, but for some reason, you can’t get it into your head. You should know better than to insult her in my presence. It’s my damn business what I do and who I do it with, and you should know better than to run your mouth. Stay out of it, woman. It’s for your own good. I’ve kept my end of the deal. I started to work as I promised. All you needed to do was keep your nose out of my business. And apparently, that’s a tall order for you as well. So I’m going to help you...”
Slowly, I unglue my finger from her necklace and straighten my back. Shaken, she runs her hand through her hair, struggling to regain her composure.
“There’s nothing you can do, Shade,” she says with a quivering voice. “If you expect me to just roll with it because you think with your dick, you must be out of your fucking mind,” she says nervously.
Her eyes dart briefly to the house where our staff is waiting for our standoff to come to an end.
“I’m not going to let you bring any kind of woman into this family. Someone you randomly pick with your dick. Tara Hart or anyone like her. This is not only about your ass. It’s a huge estate, and it’s going to be entirely yours. Provided you don’t do something stupid, of course. If you’d use your brain for a moment, you’d realize you could easily double your worth just by marrying the right woman. Someone like Lola Hemingway, for instance, who’s still longing for you, or anyone like her. I don’t care who you choose as long as she’s a proper match for you. So many women have their eyes set on you.”
Tucking a hand in my pocket, I narrow my eyes and bring my cigarette back to my lips. I take a long drag, my eyes sitting on her.
She just doesn’t quit.
“That kind of woman would make way more sense,” she says, perhaps encouraged by my silence. “You could still fuck women like this Tara on the side if that’s what you really like.”
A smirk makes it to my lips.
“Listen... I’m not gonna bother to explain to you why I fuck who I fuck. We both know I’m not the son you wanted me to be. There isn’t only one reason for that, so why don’t you just get it into your head. I will never be who you want me to be. The sooner you understand that, the better both of us will be.”
Stubbing out the cigarette, I send out a stream of smoke and fish my car keys out of my pocket.
I glance at her one last time, and speak.
“And by the way, don’t be so sure that I can’t stop you. There are things that I can do if I need to, so don’t fuck with me. All right?”
Glowering, she peels the napkin from her lap, tosses it on the empty table, pulls out of her chair, and dashes to the house.
The sound of her heels scratching the tiles still echoes in the air as I calmly saunter out of the patio and head to my car.
3
TARA
The silver satin dress falls smoothly on my body. A long metallic zipper runs up my back, closing it snugly against my frame, setting off my silhouette.
Combing my fingers through my hair, I gaze in the mirror.
The dark shade of red lipstick makes my pout stand out, the chocolate-brown eyeliner highlighting my blue eyes.
I hurl a last glance in the mirror, giving myself a swift once over.
I slip into my heels, grab my purse and cell phone, and rush out the door.
The cab waits for me in front of the building.
It’s a thirty minute drive to the Convention Center.
We pull into the parking lot close to seven o’clock. The place is crammed with cars and people. A party follows the award ceremony, and a lot of people are accompanied by plus ones.
The crowd fills the lobby, flowing slowly toward the event room, the guests ready to enter the venue. I run into a couple of co-workers, and we all stop for a few moments outside the main room as we start to discuss business.
My words sound enthusiastic although my passion is no longer there. I’ve worked so hard to win this prize––the Business Woman Excellence Award, yet, ironically, it no longer means much.
Around seven thirty, I get settled at the assigned table where I get acquainted with the people who are also recipients of the award, but work for other companies.
One hour into the event, the presenter calls my name.
I strut to the stage, balancing atop my heels, my knees feeling soft and funny. Nervous as hell, I make it to the podium.
Plastering a smile on my face, I walk on the stage, a spotlight following me all the way to the microphone.
As the clamor dies out, I start reading my acceptance speech. Within minutes I go over the acknowledgements, my gaze absently skimming the crowd.
The men and women seated at the tables have their eyes trained on me. I swing my gaze to the side where a few people stand next to the exit door.
Something catches my eye. I shift my gaze back and zoom in on that group.
The man standing in the corner is tall and blonde, his face partially veiled by darkness. His arms are crossed over his chest, his gaze pinned on me.
He takes a step to the side, nearing the door, and my heart thuds in my chest as I get a glimpse of him.
Panic, and excitement rush through me before he briefly locks my eyes, and makes me turn to stone.
His gaze burns through me like a raging fire. It leaves me breathless as I sense his turmoil.
A wave of adrenaline surges through me as I stumble through the last few words of my speech, completely distracted, my eyes still glued on him.
He lingers by the exit door a moment longer before he turns around and slips outside.
Tension sets in my jaw.
I fumble through the ending, eager to get off the stage. I thank the audience one more time, hurry to my table, collect my purse and sneak outside.
A river of light engulfs me as I step into the large hallway. Blue tiles pave the floor, the white walls reflecting the azure glow.
Swiveling my head, I glance around, looking for him. The place is empty. Everybody seems to be inside the event room.
I edge to the wall of glass and peer outside.
Propped on his red Ferrari, hands tucked in his suit pants, he swings his gaze in my direction.
I push through the doors and walk to him, my eyes rooted to him as I climb the few short stairs.
A black shirt hugs his broad shoulders, the top buttons open at the neckline. Rolled up sleeves reveal his tanned forearms.
His green eyes land on me, heavy and brewing a storm.
The moment I reach the bottom of the stairs, he tears his gaze away from me and pushes off the car.
A few strides put him into the driver seat.
Heart leaping to my throat, I rush the last few steps, careful not to break a heel before I climb into his ride.
The door shuts smoothly behind me.
> “Hey,” I say softly.
Silence comes my way.
A muscle ticks in his jaw, the fury running through his blood darkening his eyes.
He turns on the ignition and revs up the engine, glancing out the side window as he hits the gas hard.
The tires shrill, spinning and burning against the pavement, the immense horsepower beneath the hood hurling the car onto the road.
My back merges with my seat.
I open and close my mouth a few times, no sound or word making it out. I make sure my seat belt is locked, furtively glancing at him.
He takes a less traveled road as the city stays behind, the car eating the distance at no less than one hundred miles an hour.
Slumped in my seat, I don’t dare to let out a sound.
From time to time, I steal a glance at him. He doesn’t look at me.
He finally lights up the cigarette that’s been dangling from the corner of his mouth for the past fifteen minutes or so.
I pray his eyes go back to the road fast enough, so we don’t go airborne.
As the scenery changes, and the road begins to snake between patches of forest, he finally slows down. A long exhale falls from my lips.
Beautiful homes, sprawl on either side of the road.
Soon, we take a turn. A lake stretches on the left where beautiful vacation homes light up the shore.
Colorful lights glow in the backyards, nocturnal voices mixing with laughter, vibrating through the air.
A few bonfires toss restless flames into the night.
Once in a while, I hear the sound of a melodious music coming from a backyard.
We make a left and steer onto a gravel road that cuts through groups of trees. Moments later, the car slows down before we come to a full stop in front of a beautiful lake house.
Soft light illuminates the path to the entrance.
He turns off the ignition.
Without a word, he climbs out, strides across the crescent-shaped driveway, and vanishes inside the house.
I finally jolt out of my paralysis, follow the same trail and enter the house.
As he turns on the lights, I stare at a large open room with a wall made of ceiling-high windows, the glass streaming an amazing view.
Dark water stretches all the way to the strings of lights pulsing in the distance.
The next moment, the lights adjust, spreading a warm glow across the cream walls.
I feel calm and peaceful only for a moment before I hear his steps.
Pissed, he tosses the keys onto a table and walks to the bar.
I freeze in the middle of the room.
“What did she say?” he barks, his voice rippling through the air with like thunder.
The beautiful image in front of my eyes shatters into oblivion.
Quiet, I spin around and stroll to the bar, observing his motions. Impatient, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes filled with anger and frustration.
A frown is etched on his brow.
“What did Elia say to you, Tara?”
“How, um... How do you know?” I ask with a faltering voice.
He turns around, sets a short glass filled with ice cubes on the counter, pours whiskey from a square-shaped bottle, and brings it to his lips.
I vaporize under his glare.
Holding his angry gaze, I remain silent.
He empties half of his drink with one big gulp and pours some more alcohol. I begin to get worried about me getting back home and him driving.
Luckily, he abandons the glass on the counter.
I almost sigh with relief when he walks around and stops in front of me, his eyes spitting fire.
“She told you something, didn’t she?” he asks, grilling me with his eyes. “What the fuck did she say to you?”
Slowly, I set my purse on the counter.
I shift my eyes back to him.
“She told me to back off,” I say calmly.
“When was that?”
“This afternoon.”
“Oh. Okay. Is that why you didn't answer my calls?”
I press my lips together.
Huffing, he rakes a hand through his hair, a knowing smile creasing his lips, the disappointment flashing in his eyes killing me slowly.
He shifts his gaze away.
Shaking his head, he scoops out a cigarette from the pack sitting on the counter while fishing out the lighter from his pocket.
I watch him in silence as he tucks the filtered end between his lips.
Narrowing his eyes, he runs the flame of his lighter over the tip of his cigarette and takes a long drag. Tipping his head back, he lets the smoke out in a thick stream, his eyes staying on me all this time.
He tosses the lighter on the counter.
“What exactly did she say to you?”
“She made it clear that she doesn’t approve of me, but you already knew that,” I say, irritated.
“Why didn’t you want to talk to me?” he asks, his eyes glinting with sadness.
My jaw tenses as I fight my emotions back.
“What else did she tell you?” he asks with a softer voice.
“The obvious. That you are too young, and we are headed for a disaster. That this is not real, and you don’t have enough life experience. That you may get bored and look for something else and when you would, I’d get my heart broken,” I say, perching myself onto a barstool, avoiding his eyes.
He edges closer to me, and grips my chin, slowly tipping it up so he can see my eyes.
For a moment, we stay silent and look into each other eyes, my heart filling with him as I take him in.
“Nothing that I didn’t know,” I say softly, sadness threading through my voice.
“What else?” he says with a mellow voice this time.
His fingers brush my face tenderly while his eyes make love to mine.
A scent of cologne, mint, and smoke rolls over me reviving all the good memories. Of him and me. Of us. I shift my gaze down for a moment, and then I glance back at him, my lashes drenched in tears.
A faint smile twinkles in his eyes.
“She told me about your women... The paid women in particular. She said there were more of them since you moved out.”
He brings his hand to my face, and gently, runs the back of his knuckles on my cheek.
“I don’t see other women, Tara. That’s not why I moved out. I wanted to get away from Elia. Not that it worked, anyway.”
“I know,” I murmur. “But everything else she said rang true to me. We can’t predict the future. It’s possible that you might change your mind, and not feel for me the way you do now. ”
“I can say the same thing about you.”
I look at him, surprised.
He smiles.
“It could happen, but it’s unlikely,” I say.
“What makes you think it’s more likely for me to change my mind and not you?” he asks, the faint light of another smile brushing his eyes.
He puts the cigarette out, briefly evading my eyes.
I shrug.
“I don’t know. I guess I know myself better than I know you. Besides, she had a point.”
“And what exactly was her point?” he says, another grin threading through his voice.
“You might look for something else. A different flavor. It’s not as if you can’t live without me. You don’t exactly need me. You like me now, but that could change in the future.”
His lips curve into a soft smile.
“You don’t know that. You don’t know how much I need you and for how long,” he mutters.
“Do you?”
“Yeah... I do. And you should know it too,” he says. “What are you really afraid of, baby?”
His voice is soft and tender, dissolving the last shred of my resistance.
“That I could lose you.”
“I could lose you too,” he says, grinning, his hands sliding down to my shoulders.
I search his eyes.
“
You could?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Why would I not want you?” I ask.
“I can ask you the exact same thing. What makes you think that I’d want someone else? We can’t predict the future–– that’s true, but aren’t you curious to live this moment first? To find out where it would take us?”
He looks down at me, a mysterious smile touching his eyes.
4
TARA
He ponders for a moment before he flicks his gaze up.
“What about this? You move in with me,” he says.
My lips part slowly, my eyes widening with disbelief.
“Are you serious?”
“Mmm-hmm. We give it a try. See if it works.”
My pulse slams against the delicate skin of my wrists.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes,” he says with conviction.
I smile.
“Okay... I guess we can do it, although I’ve never shared a living space with someone else.”
