“Ems, come on,” Damion tried to comfort her. “You don’t even have to talk to him. There’s loads of people here; just ignore him.”
“But he’s all I see!” Emma blurted.
Damion flinched slightly at the comment but remained beside her, stroking her back.
“He shouldn’t be here,” she muttered to herself.
“Forget about Daniel. Come back and enjoy the party,” Damion urged.
“He sickens me!” Emma declared contritely; then she leaned forward and threw up onto the grass.
Damion winced and rubbed her back a little harder. “That feel better?” he asked gently.
Emma couldn’t respond; she was too busy throwing up a second time.
Damion turned away and let her finish being sick. “We’d best get you home,” he suggested when she finally straightened and looked shamefully at him.
“I’m a mess,” Emma stated sadly.
“You’re fine.” Damion smiled.
“He can’t see me like this!” She suddenly became panicked.
“Ems, you look fine!”
“No, I’ll sleep out here!” Emma tried to lie down on the stone bench.
“Ems! Don’t be stupid. Come on!” Damion pulled her to her feet and looped an arm around her so that she could lean against him for support. Slowly he began to guide her back to the house.
It took almost an hour to coax Emma into a cab, take her back home, and place her in her own bed. All the while, she kept lamenting about not wanting Daniel to see her in such a state. As Damion scanned the emptying party, he realized that she didn’t need to worry. Daniel had already left without as much as a goodbye.
“Come on.” Damion dropped Emma into her bed and pulled the blanket up over her as she squirmed drunkenly beneath the sheets.
“Did he see me?” Emma murmured sleepily. “Did he see me be such a mess?”
“No.” Damion sighed, positioning himself in a nearby chair to try to get some sleep. “He didn’t see you when you were a mess. Goodnight, Emma.”
But there was no response. She’d already dropped into a dead sleep.
“SO HOW LONG WILL YOU be back for?” Damion asked over coffee the following morning.
Daniel shrugged as he sipped his espresso.
“I was glad you made the party.” Damion smiled.
“At least someone was,” Daniel noted sourly. “Emma couldn’t get away from me quick enough.”
“She was just a little drunk,” Damion explained. “And overwhelmed. I mean, it was her family home, after all.”
“Yeah, before that Cardelinni joker butchered it!”
“I think it looks impressive,” Damion defended his new friend.
Daniel rolled his eyes in a bored gesture. “He actually left with twin girls,” he declared angrily. “I mean, who does he think he is, Hugh Hefner?”
Damion resisted pointing out that Daniel would normally be impressed by such behavior rather than chastising it. Instead he remained quiet and sipped his coffee, which he’d ordered black and without sugar. He needed the bitterness.
“Is he really the sort of person you want associated with Delacourt Designs?” Daniel continued heatedly.
“He does a good job.”
“But he’s such a joker! And don’t forget what his family does! I think he’s trouble and should be cut loose!”
Damion finished his coffee and savored the acrid taste as it slid down his throat, and the caffeine ignited his senses. He was growing weary of Daniel’s constant vitriol against Nick. Nick had been there for Damion and Emma when Daniel had so easily turned his back on them both. Nick deserved their loyalty and respect, but he got neither from Daniel.
“You just hate Nick because Emma considered marrying him!” Damion blurted, unable to conceal his feelings.
“What?” Daniel’s eyes widened in shock, and he blushed. After several seconds, he gathered himself and recovered from the comment.
“That’s not it at all,” he replied coolly, his unshakeable demeanor reinstated.
“Yes, it is,” Damion challenged. “You’ve no other reason not to like him.”
“How about he’s a douche?”
“But he’s not. He’s a decent guy, and you know that. It actually makes you mad, as it makes it harder for you to hate him as much as you do.”
Daniel scowled but didn’t respond.
“You need to just get over your history with him,” Damion advised.
“And you”—Daniel pointed dramatically at his friend—“just need to get laid.”
“What?” It was Damion’s turn to be shocked.
“Come on! How long has it been?” Daniel demanded. “All this energy you’re putting into me and my problem with Nick isn’t healthy. You’ve got too much free time. We need to get you laid!”
“I don’t need to get laid.” Damion shook his head and looked down nervously at the table.
“Seriously, how long has it been?” Daniel pressed.
Damion sighed; he knew that when his friend got something in to his head, it was difficult to move him onto another topic. “Can we just drop it?” he pleaded, keeping his voice low. The last thing he wanted was for nearby tables to hear what they were discussing.
“No, we can’t,” Daniel said simply. “As your friend, I owe it to you to help you go out and get laid. Tonight we’re going out drinking. That’s an order.”
Damion opened his mouth to object but somehow couldn’t deliver the words. He always enjoyed going out with Daniel and had missed his friend’s company.
“No more wallowing, no more creepy interest in my affairs. Tonight, my friend, we are finding you a woman!” Daniel grinned as he slapped a ten-dollar bill on the table to pay for their coffees.
THE CLUB WAS PACKED as Daniel and Damion navigated their way to a table towards the back of the venue where they could sit, drink and people watch. Daniel was always a predator on nights out, opting to remain on the periphery and admire the view until he found a suitable target, and then he would swoop in for the kill, and he rarely ever missed.
Both men were wearing dark denim jeans and designer suits and watches. They attracted many admiring glances as they sat down at their table and ordered drinks.
“I like this place,” Daniel commented, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the boom of the music.
“Me too!” Damion agreed.
Once their drinks arrived, they knocked their glasses of scotch on the rocks together and toasted to a good night.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER they remained at their table, though Daniel now felt as though his world were on a skewed axis. The copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed had blurred his vision and made him feel as though he were at the fair on a Tilt-A-Whirl even though he sat in the same booth he’d been in the whole time.
The revelers on the dance floor seemed strange and ethereal beneath the neon lights as they moved in time with the music. With a pounding sense of regret, Daniel realized that he was far too drunk to fulfill his original objective of scoring Damion a woman for the evening.
“Sorry, man.” He reached out and nudged Damion’s shoulder. “I said that tonight would be about getting you laid, and I’m just... I’m wasted.”
“Yeah,” Damion hiccupped. “Me too.”
“But we need to get you a woman!” Daniel attempted to stand up but floundered and dropped back down onto the padded leather bench of the booth.
“I’ve found a woman,” Damion said morosely. “She just doesn’t want me.”
“Ems?” Daniel cried. “Are you talking about Ems?”
“Of course I am!” Damion remarked, becoming slightly hostile. In his drunken state, he didn’t care that he was sharing his innermost feelings. It was as if the alcohol had stripped away his skin so that his heart was exposed and everyone could see who it belonged to.
“Dude.” Daniel laughed slightly and managed to raise a wavering arm to order more drinks. “That is a wasted venture.”
“No, it’s not,” Damion objected. “Emma is everything I want in a woman. She’s smart, beautiful, funny, caring—”
“Not interested,” Daniel interrupted cruelly.
“Okay, fine, she doesn’t feel the same way I do, but that doesn’t mean I can just stop thinking about her like that.”
“You just need someone new to fixate on,” Daniel declared knowingly, stretching out his legs.
“Is that what you do?” Damion challenged. “Each time you’re done with Emma you find someone new to fixate on?”
Daniel sighed and straightened, grateful that a new round of drinks had just arrived. He knew that it was dangerous for the conversation to venture into Emma-related territory, as the topic was a little too close to both of their hearts.
“She loves you! How can you not see that?” Damion continued. “I’d give anything for her to look at me the way she looks at you!”
“Let’s just drop it!” Daniel cried angrily.
“Why? Am I hitting a nerve?” Damion taunted.
“Look, I know you have feelings for her, but don’t let them blind you. What’s going on with me and Emma, its none of your business. As my friend, you should respect that.”
“I’m her friend too!”
“Are you?” Daniel scowled. “You want to fuck her; that doesn’t seem that friendly to me.”
“Don’t be so crude!” Damion cried, but he was blushing. “You slept with her!”
“She’s not my friend anymore,” Daniel said wryly, raising his glass to his lips.
“How can you just switch off your feelings like that?” Damion demanded. “When did she stop being your friend and become just some girl you fuck?”
Daniel shook his head angrily. He wasn’t willing to get into it, not now, and not with Damion.
“You keep playing these games with her,” Damion continued. “You blow hot and cold, and she allows you to, but soon someone is going to come along and treat her how she deserves to be treated. She’ll find someone worthy of her, and you’ll be left with only regret.”
“I doubt that,” Daniel retorted coldly.
“You care about her. That’s why you’re here; that’s why you came to the party,” Damion insisted. “But if you keep denying it to both yourself and her, you’re going to lose her.”
“Isn’t that what you want? Me out of the picture?”
“No,” Damion said, his voice small. “What I want is for Emma to be happy. I love her enough to want her to be with whoever she cares about, even if that isn’t me.”
“How noble of you,” Daniel spat bitterly.
“I’m just warning you,” Damion said simply, “that if you keep treating Emma the way you do, she’s going to slip right through your fingers and into someone else’s hands.”
“Whose? Yours?” Daniel laughed.
“No.” Damion blushed again. “But someone’s. One day she’s going to wake up and realize she’s worth more than you.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and tried to appear bored, but inside he felt tense and almost sick. He tried to rationalize that it was just the alcohol.
“How about we stop talking about girlfriends past and try to enjoy the night?” Daniel suggested, trying to make peace.
“Is Emma really in your past?” Damion countered.
“Yes.” Daniel sighed. “Now let’s go grind on some hot women on the dance floor before I’m too drunk to even stand!”
Daniel pushed himself up and stood uneasily, watching the world around him tip on its axis. “Okay.” He sat back down. “We might already be at that point.”
“Are you really prepared to lose her for good?” Damion asked sincerely.
“Good God, can we drop it?” Daniel cried. “I hate seeing you like this.” He gestured to his friend. “You’re so caught up on a girl who isn’t into you, it’s pathetic.”
Damion flinched at the abruptness of the comment.
“You deserve to be happy,” Daniel tried to backtrack and take the sting out of what he had said. “You’re my friend. I want you to be happy.”
“I want to be happy,” Damion admitted forlornly, looking down at his half-drunk glass of scotch.
“This is the real relationship I’ve been neglecting!” Daniel drunkenly gestured at the space between them. “Our friendship!” he clarified. “We’ve barely hung out lately, and look what’s happened to you; you’ve fallen into some weird depression.”
“I’m not depressed—” Damion tried to point out that he was lovesick, not depressed. There was a difference.
“Look at you! Moping around about Emma! I’m going to make things right for you!” Daniel promised. “I’m going to find you an amazing girl and help you get out of this funk!”
When Daniel spoke, it reminded Damion of old times when they’d go out together and have drunken adventures. They had once been as close as brothers.
“We are finding you a woman!” Daniel pounded the table. “Too long have you been alone, unhappy. I shall make this right!”
“And what about Emma?” Damion wondered. “Will you make things right with her?”
“First rule of our mission, no more talk of Emma!” Daniel insisted. “You love her, I fucked her, let’s move on. She’s in our past. We need to focus on our future!”
“But you love her,” Damion stated quietly. “I know you do.”
Daniel either didn’t hear or chose to pretend he hadn’t caught the comment.
“This is our mission, to find Damion Flores’ true love!” He raised his glass so that they could have a toast. As Daniel leaned forward, his stomach began to shift awkwardly. That’s when he remembered that the worst part of the Tilt-A-Whirl was when you got off and the world ceased spinning, and you usually ended up throwing up your lunch.
“Owww.” Daniel held his stomach and leaned forward uneasily. “I feel sick.”
“Let’s get home.” Damion stumbled to his feet and awkwardly helped his friend up. “But I’m holding you to your promise.”
“What promise?” Daniel asked absently.
“That we’re doing this again,” Damion reminded him. “I’ve missed you, man. We need to do this more.”
Daniel would have agreed with the sentiment, but instead he leaned forward and promptly threw up all over Damion’s designer loafers.
“SO, HOW ARE YOU FEELING?” Nick asked as he sat in Emma’s apartment, nursing a fresh cup of coffee.
“I’m fine,” Emma told him flatly.
It was a bright Saturday afternoon, and Nick had come round to help Emma decorate her apartment. Most of the furniture was covered in dustsheets apart from the sofa on which they were both sitting.
“I hear you made quite the display of yourself at the party.” Nick raised an eyebrow at her.
“I hear you made quite the exit!” Emma quipped. This made Nick release a massive grin at her.
“Now that”—he pointed playfully at her—“is true.”
“I just got a little drunk, that’s all.” Emma sighed and looked down at her own coffee.
“Because Richmond was there?” Nick asked gently, his tone becoming serious.
“Yeah.” Emma shrugged. “Because he was there.”
“So the whole decorating the apartment?” Nick glanced around the space, which seemed even larger now that everything was under cover and hidden from view. “Is that about a fresh start?”
“Yes.” Emma gave him a determined nod.
“Okay.” Nick smiled approvingly. “Fresh starts are good. So what are you thinking?” He stood up and admired the vast, blank walls.
Nick Cardelinni had always enjoyed interior decorating. Growing up surrounded by wealth, he had learned to enjoy the finer things in life. He liked to dress in designer clothes, drive imported sports cars, and decorate his home in the most luxurious furnishings. Emma was hoping to get Nick’s help when decorating her own place.
“I’m thinking”—Emma stood up and joined him—“classy shabby chic. I want everywhere to loo
k expensive but rustic. I was thinking about maybe some stenciled art on that wall.” She gestured with her hands to the relevant wall as she spoke. “And maybe fairy lights cascading down there?”
“Love it, love it.” Nick nodded excitedly. Then he glanced down at the furniture beneath the dustsheets. “Does the furniture also get a revamp?”
“I don’t know.” Emma placed her hands on her hips and squinted.
“Because everything you’re doing sounds great,” Nick enthused. “But right now you’re rocking Ikea furniture. It will look too bland against the stencils and décor, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” Emma nodded in agreement. “You’re right.”
Nick circled the room for a moment, deep in thought.
“What are you thinking?” Emma asked, but Nick promptly raised a hand to silence her, he was still deep in contemplation.
Finally, he stopped and looked at her, an excited gleam in his eye.
“Hear me out,” he began.
“What?” Emma asked dubiously.
“Okay, so what you need is luxury shabby, right?”
“Right.”
“But nowhere really does that,” Nick continued. “What you’re describing sounds like Marie Antoinette meets farmyard rural, which I love the sound of, but where do we find it?”
“Flea markets?” Emma suggested lamely.
“Maybe.” Nick tilted his head. “If you want some backwater knockoff. What we need is the real deal. Sumptuous furniture in your desired theme.”
“So where do we get that?”
Nick straightened and looked proudly at her. “You design it.”
“Sorry, what?” Emma blurted. “I’m not an interior designer!”
“I know.” Nick rushed over to her and lowered her back onto the sofa to hear him out. “But think about it. Most design houses today have an interior range. Why doesn’t Delacourt Designs branch out in to home furnishings too? We could start small with curtains and cushions, but ultimately you could design entire ranges of furniture.”
“I’m not sure,” Emma said hesitantly. She was used to designing clothes, not sofas and chairs.
Designing Emma (Volume 5) Page 3
