by T. L Smith
I thought my life was over.
That my heart would never beat for another man again.
Maybe it was just time I needed. They do say time heals all wounds. Some, though, can’t be healed, they’re cut too deep to be treated.
Chapter 2
Kandi
Waking up in a strange place is something I’m used to, Jarod and I did it often. We were never in one place for too long, always moving and traveling. He would get itchy if we stayed in one place longer than necessary, even if I eventually wanted to stop driving and put down new roots I wouldn’t, not without him. So this is all new to me. For the last six years, five of them with Jarod, I’ve traveled or been with him. And yesterday, to change all that, I bought a house, so my roots are now firmly planted in Candy.
My life’s been up and down since Jarod, but now I’m trying to grip onto something that resembles normalcy and ground myself.
In the end, I didn’t set up the bed that was delivered late last night. The mattress was fine on the floor, and I slept soundly surrounded with pillows and blankets. Next to my mattress, I have my bag open, and all my painting supplies lay scattered on the floor.
I make good money from my painting, and reviving old furniture is something I’ve always loved to do. I didn’t choose a career, I picked love instead. Sometimes I wonder if that was the right thing to do.
To give someone so much of yourself. Do they ever really appreciate it?
A knock comes on my door, and the furniture I bought yesterday is arriving. Letting them in, I see Regina standing not too far behind the delivery guy with her nose all scrunched up.
Maybe it’s not just me she hates, maybe she hates everyone?
“Kandi.” She says my name like one would click their fingers together to gain your attention.
“Regina, such a welcoming surprise.”
She pushes her sunglasses up her nose, and I can almost feel the eye roll she wants to give me. “This isn’t me being welcoming, I’ve only come here because I didn’t want to give out your address. So here...” She pushes a card into my chest then turns to leave. Her heels click on my steps as she walks down the stairs of my porch.
“Thank you, Regina.”
She waves me off, not saying a word as she gets into her BMW and drives off.
On the card is the name of the club I saw Davina go into. It’s the same place where I saw that guy out front, who made me feel things a woman like me shouldn’t feel when her heart isn’t totally healed.
ALL DAY I’VE CONTEMPLATED whether or not I should go to that place, and as I stand outside a hardware store, I notice the girls. All four of them walk through the red door of Candy Village—including Davina—with the flashy neon sign above it.
My old car is full of things I need so I can fix some issues with my small cottage, and I’m not dressed in appropriate attire for what you should wear into a place like that. But somehow my feet cross the road taking me to that red door.
The music’s loud, and it’s even louder when I pull the door open. Inside is a dimly lit room with what appears to be the busiest establishment in this small town.
Is this where everyone goes?
The door closes behind me, shutting me in here. There’s a stage set up in the middle of the open area where fog lingers over the floor, and a stripper pole is situated in the middle of the stage. A girl walks out, the music drops a few beats, the atmosphere changes and everyone seems to go quiet. Or maybe it’s just me that does because when she wraps her leg around that pole I feel like I’m sitting in a trance.
“You sure you’re in the right place, girlie?” I turn to the sound of the voice coming from behind me. It’s an older man, with no hair, but his smile is kind.
“Sorry, I was just...” Turning to face the door to leave, I notice he walks in. The same man who makes me think of another man instead of my dead husband.
Who does that?
That can’t be right.
You’re meant to grieve for the rest of your life, aren’t you?
I’ve known people, met people, who have never moved on from the pain and anguish of losing a partner. It’s so overpowering that they can only think about getting on with their life, but not moving on with another partner. Yet, here I am, my heart still somewhere near my feet all the time, but suddenly it starts beating again when I see him with his slick black hair and his impeccable dress suit. His movements are like watching a movie as he makes his way over. The way his eyes are trained on me, only lifting once to look at the old man beside me, before they come back to me.
“That will be all, Alfred.”
The old man nods his head once, looks to me offering a small smile before he disappears.
He’s incredible, his words make my body ignite in tingles—he shouldn’t be able to do that. His eyes, those eyes, they’re gray, almost the color of a stormy night looking back at me. They say if you can look into someone’s eyes longer than two minutes you’ll gain an attraction to them. I don’t need two minutes to know that an attraction is already evident. I can feel it in every inch of me when I look at him.
“I see Regina informed you of where we are.” His eyes hold mine, and I almost forget to breathe, let alone answer him. “Why don’t you come into my office so we can talk, Kandi.” When he walks past me, his smell hits me, and I almost want to fall into him just to get lost for a bit. Because I’m pretty sure that’s what would happen, I would lose myself in him. My eyes watch as he walks, and in that split second I know I shouldn’t follow him. It feels a bit like Alice going down that rabbit hole. She shouldn’t have, but she went anyway. Well, let’s just say I’ve watched that movie enough to know that right now, I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole at all. I want to run back to where I’m safe, and no one is stealing my thoughts or breath.
Then it hits me, I never gave him my name. “How do you know my name?”
He stops. He’s far enough away that he has to walk back to me. At first, I think he hasn’t heard me, but he looks at me as though he has. “I know a lot of things, Kandi. Now, if you’d be so kind as to follow me.” He waves his hand toward the back past the stage.
People are staring. It could be because of what I’m wearing, but that isn’t the vibe I’m getting. No, it’s like everyone in here knows I shouldn’t be here. Before he can say another word, I spin around, my feet carrying me straight out of the door and back into the sunlight. With quick steps, I walk directly to my car and drive to my small cottage away from everyone.
And most importantly, him.
Whoever he is.
I’VE MANAGED TO AVOID being social all week. I’ve attempted to coop myself up in this cottage trying to make it my own. Which I haven’t done before on my own. With Jarod and our constant moving, I never had a chance to create a home. And before that, I was living with my mother. This is the first large purchase I’ve ever made apart from my car. I hope to stay here. Find work here. And live here for a long time.
“Kandi.” My name is called, and it makes me jolt and drop my paint all over the floor. My front and back doors are open, as well as all the windows. I’ve been painting, so I’ve been trying to air it out. Heels click on my wooden floors, and my name is called again. “Kandi.” Davina comes into view. Her long blonde hair hangs down her sides off her shoulders, and she offers me a warm smile once she sees me. She lets out a small laugh, probably at the paint which covers me everywhere. “I’ve been knocking, but you mustn’t have heard me.”
Bending down to pick up my brushes. “No, sorry, I was busy.” Davina nods her head looking down at my now paint-covered floors, and back to me as I stand, placing the brushes onto the stand. I wipe my hands on my overalls.
Feeling self-conscious isn’t something I usually do. I’m a confident woman, have been because I like myself, I like the person I’ve become. Not many people can say the same. But there are days when I look at myself and don’t see the woman people want to see when they look at me. For example, my hair
would be so much better if it was like Davina’s in a normal blonde color, but I don’t want normal. I’ll take the looks, the feelings that sometimes ride up when someone like Davina looks and judges me with a touch of pity. That’s not something I need.
“You’ve really changed this place,” she says, her eyes leaving mine as they skirt around the room.
I’ve painted the walls, torn down the drapes to let some light in. It’s a slow job, but I’m loving it all so much right now. The cottage is starting to feel like it’s mine. It belongs to me, yes, but it’s taking shape and feels like home.
“It needed some love.”
Davina nods her head as I wipe my hands again and tuck them into my pockets while I watch her. “Can I help you with anything, Davina?”
She looks back to me, her smile softer this time. “You met him, but left?” My nose scrunches up, and my eyebrows draw together in confusion as I try to place what she’s talking about.
“Huxley! That brooding hunk of a man.”
“I did.” I’m not sure what else she wants from me. “He seems great and all, but I had places to be.”
She draws her eyebrows together. “You don’t know much about this town, and that’s okay. But since you look like you’re going to be living here, you should probably know the basics.”
I feel like she’s gearing up to a warning, and those I don’t take very well. My stance becomes taller, my arms cross over my chest as I wait for her to continue.
“Huxley Cross owns just about every business, home, and street in Candy.”
“And?”
Her eyes bulge. “And, no one ever says no to him. It’s just not what we do here.”
“You’re all deluded,” I reply. “He’s no king, so why do you think it necessary to warn me?”
Davina’s hand rubs up and down her arm.
“But that’s the thing, he is one. King of this town, I mean.” Her eyes look down before they come back up. “He isn’t the nicest of men either, Kandi. Please remember that. He won’t brush your hair from your face when you cry. He won’t cuddle you when you feel like breaking. He’s the type of man who twists the knife when it’s already embedded in you.”
Her words make no sense.
Sure, I got a powerful vibe from him, one where he thinks his shit doesn’t stink. But he’s wrong. Everyone’s shit does. Even if no one wants to tell him.
“You love him?” I ask.
Why would she describe him like that if she didn’t?
She laughs. “We all love him in some way, I guess. It’s always the ones you want but can’t have that have that allure about them, isn’t it? But no, I actually prefer the opposite sex.”
Oh crap, I didn’t see that coming.
“You work at a strip club?”
She smirks. “Again, you didn’t stay long enough to see it all. But for all intents and purposes, I guess you could call it that.”
“Why are you really here, Davina?”
Her hand lifts and she strokes her arm. “Huxley asked me to invite you to his house. Every month he has a party. I would love it if you would be my guest?”
“Your guest or his?” I ask.
She looks shyly away from me. “Both, I guess.”
I like her, possibly not in the way she’s hoping for, but I like her all the same. So when the words leave my mouth, she looks surprised.
“Of course, what time?”
Davina’s smile is bright. “It’s at eight. Dress to impress. No casual attire.”
With a nod of my head, I watch her leave the same way she came in, without my help at all.
Chapter 3
Kandi
It’s not like I have a ball gown packed away in my car, so what I have on is the best I can pull together on such short notice. My hands skim down the pink skirt that matches my hair, which brushes over my white shirt that shows off my cleavage. A girl’s best friend is always her assets. I happen to love my breasts.
A black car pulls up out front as I close my front door. My heels are high, and if I’m not careful, I can see myself twisting my ankle. I hardly wear them anymore and prefer flat shoes to heels. The back door opens, and long blonde hair is the first thing I see. It’s down, and Davina waves for me to slide in. I didn’t expect her to drive, I thought for sure I’d have to go into town to find her. So when I see her smiling face, I’m glad I don’t have to. Getting in next to her, she looks me over as I look her over. She’s dressed in a ball gown, one that fits her slim figure tightly. The black silk sits on her like a second skin.
“Is what I have on okay?” I ask, looking from her to me.
Maybe I should have gone with something a bit longer, but that would have involved me going shopping, and I didn’t exactly have much time to do that with such short notice.
“Yes, of course.” She doesn’t sound convincing, but honestly, I don’t care. She hands me a glass of champagne and gives me a smile. “I’m glad to make a new friend. People who come here usually don’t stay for all too long unless they were raised here.”
“You’re from around here?” I ask her.
“No, that’s what makes me different. All the girls are from here, apart from possibly two. But Huxley’s good to me, better than most.”
“And you aren’t sleeping with him?” I ask shocked.
She laughs, covering her mouth. “No. As I mentioned before, you’re more my type than he is.”
Not knowing what to say to that, I simply nod my head. I don’t want to give her the wrong impression, and I don’t know if I should say something. So instead, I stay quiet. Waiting for her to speak first.
“He’s interested in you. Not many women walk the other way when he invites them somewhere.”
I take a sip of my champagne as the car slows down.
“He must be used to getting what he wants.”
Davina nods her head. I turn to look out the car window, as we drive the long cobblestone driveway until we come to a stop in front of what seems to be a small castle.
A fucking castle.
Who the fuck lives in a castle?
That’s right, rich assholes that think everything revolves around them. Ones who are impeccably dressed, and do something to my once-dead heart.
I shake my head at my inner thoughts. Why does he make me so angry and flustered all at the same time? He isn’t even near me, and I have it in my head that tonight I won’t speak to him, that tonight he will simply not exist. Such stupid thoughts, really, when we’re about to walk into his home.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I nod. It’s all I trust myself to do as a guy dressed in a tux opens my door for me offering his hand as we get out. Davina steps out next to me, linking her arm through mine as we make our way to the elaborate staircase. The old stone throughout the building is beautiful. Everything seems so old, yet the most upkept I’ve seen in a long time. If you didn’t know what you were looking for you’d think this castle would be less than a century old, but if you look closely, you can see that it’s older. Much, much older.
“It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before.”
She smiles at me, but it’s true. I’ve seen pictures of castles in magazines or on the internet, but never up close and in person. Everything about this place is immaculate. From the perfectly manicured lawns to the flawless water surrounding the front entrance to the bridge. As we walk across it, fairy lights linger above us, and music can be heard as we walk up the stairs and through the large open doors and are guided down the hall into a large open area.
People are dancing and swaying to the music. Davina lets go of my arm and walks into the arms of someone else, one of the women I saw with her at the real estate agency. They both look to me, but only Davina’s smiling as I turn to look around. The gigantic room is like a nightclub, with a large dance floor in the middle. Roses abound on the back wall sitting in large pots. My feet automatically start moving, I can’t stop them, and before I know it I’m standing in fro
nt of a wall made entirely out of roses. Pink roses to be exact. My hands touch them, linger and I smell them. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve seen. Turning to my left, a couple are holding hands, and that’s when I see the swing. It’s a wooden structure situated in front of the wall of roses. There’s a photographer taking photographs for each person that sits down.
He sees me lingering and offers me a small smile. “Would you like your photo taken, miss?”
I nod and walk over, sitting on the swing chair, and he instructs me with a happy voice to smile or swing. I do both, my legs lifting from the floor, my smile so big I can feel it almost hurting my cheeks.
Swings and roses are two of my favorite things. They remind me of my grandparents when I was little. My grandfather would tend to his roses while I sat on a wooden swing he’d made especially for me, and do nothing but swing and watch him care for his flowers. He’s my fondest memories, and his death hurt more than I could have possibly imagined. I guess I needed it though, to experience that kind of pain, to prepare me for my husband’s death. A tear slips free and bounces over my bottom lid and slides down my cheek. My smile doesn’t leave me though as I stand, my heels hitting the floor and I thank the photographer. He passes me a card and tells me to collect my photo at the end of the night. Turning to my left, I start to move off so others can have their photos taken when I run straight into him.
I know it’s him without even looking up, not because he towers over me, but because the minute my body touches his, a zap pierces through my body, alerting me that he’s now touching me. His hand on my arm. He smells of flowers and the sea, a smell I could get lost in. Stepping back, he removes his hand as I look up to his gray eyes. They look almost silver tonight.
“I see you made it.” His eyes rake over me. He’s dressed to impress, while I’m dressed to kill. Or so I thought when I looked at myself in the mirror, that was until I saw what Davina was wearing and that brought me down a couple of notches. But I have to work with what I’ve got.
