by Tiana Laveen
~***~
The penthouse seemed awfully quiet. Brooklyn was fast asleep while Ace sat in his home office, watching a litany of senseless hidden camera YouTube videos. He couldn’t sleep. No horses charged his way, but he felt a bit nauseous. He imagined the wedding jitters had come to pay his intestines a much-unneeded visit. Running a heavy palm across his gut, he bent forward a bit, hoping that would ease the discomfort.
Maybe it was something I ate tonight…
He clicked on another video, and couldn’t help but laugh as he watched a man bend over and accidentally light his hair on fire. When it hit four in the morning, he knew he’d regret not getting a bit more shut-eye before the showdown, but what could he do?
Oh yeah, may as well do that now, versus later…
He clicked off the browser and pulled up Word on his computer. After taking a big swallow of water from the glass next to him, he began to type.
To Whom It May Concern:
My name is Ace Blackstone and I live in Chicago, Illinois, in the United States. It has come to my attention that a possible living relative of mine may be dwelling at this address. I obtained this information via a private investigation conducted by myself. Unfortunately, I could not locate a telephone number, and I hope that this letter arrives to the proper recipients. To my knowledge, I was born in the month of October, in 1983. I do not know my biological mother or father’s first or last names. However, I did find the name of the town in which I was possibly born, located in the Carpathian Mountains near Brasov. Only five families lived there at this particular time during my estimated birth year due to political and economic upheaval. Only one of those families consisted of a married couple under the age of thirty, according to your census. One elder, from my investigation, also lived in the home and would’ve been approximately fifty years old at the time of my birth. The rest of this letter consists of an educated assumption and hearsay, so please bear with me.
I know little about the Romanian people, country and culture, yet it is a high probability that that is in fact my ethnicity and where I spent approximately the first two years of my life. My birth mother, according to my adoptive mother, Sarah Blackstone, named me Ace. Clearly, this is not a common Romanian name, so optimistically, I am eager to believe that my first name will assist with recollection. I still reside in Illinois and would appreciate any correspondence deemed appropriate regarding this sensitive matter.
I wish to receive nothing from anyone who may obtain this letter, and wish to assist, beyond the truth which could help me gain a better understanding of my biological background. I am enclosing a photograph of me as a child as well as one taken less than one week prior to the date of mailing of this letter.
Thank you kindly in advance for any help you may give.
Sincerely,
Ace Blackstone
This is a shot in the dark, a long ass shot at that.
Sighing, placed the letter into an envelope and licked it closed, then spent the next few minutes staring at it. Finally, he rose from his chair, the correspondence tucked neatly under his arm, clicked off the office light and headed back to the bedroom. For a long while he stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall, staring at his sleeping beauty, his bride-to-be. Brooklyn’s silky, pale pink gown clung to every dip and curve of her body. A faint smile creased her face in slumber. He’d have no problem standing there for the remainder of the morning, staring at her, because she was the epitome of what he desired. Her eyes moved lightly under the lids. He surmised she was having a pleasant dream. So peaceful, so serene…
That was how he wished her to feel for the remainder of her life — in love, without a care in the world…
~***~
Everyone had arrived and taken their seats at the Crystal Gardens, located on the Navy Pier. Ace had had to pull some pretty short strings to get Brooklyn her dream wedding. When they were checking out venues, they soon discovered the best, most lavish places were at times booked out two to three years in advance. With a little finagling, and agreeing upon a Friday afternoon wedding, everything came together with only a slight hitch here and there, such as a misplaced black and white garter belt. The area was swallowed in lavish plants, and he felt like he’d been drop-kicked in the Amazon forest, or had become a contestant on the show, ‘Survivor.’ Yet, although a bit odd to him, the place looked magnificent, and as long as his wife was happy, he was happy, too.
Speaking of his wife, he hadn’t seen Brooklyn in hours, and his curiosity was getting the best of him. Luckily, his best friends, father, brothers and mother stood nearby, joking with him and reassuring him that everything would be fine. He’d invited Dr. Rose, though the man let him know he did not do such personal things with his clients. Ace extended the invitation all the same, placing the luxury, emerald green embroidered invite with elegant calligraphy in the center of the man’s desk.
Funny I’m thinking about him right now…
Ace nodded and grinned, half-listening to people as they spoke in in chirpy tones.
He helped me get to where I am now. I don’t know if I would have been able to sort all this out without him. Matter of fact, I’m certain I wouldn’t have been able to.
He caught his reflection in the seven-foot mirror inside of the elaborate dressing room, equipped with water bottles in a chilled, silver bucket and a fruit and cheese tray from which his father kept partaking. Soft music played in the background. He nodded in approval at his reflection, acknowledging he didn’t look too bad in a satiny green tie after all. Before long, he was standing beside the officiant, Reverend Locke. The short man with a jutted chin and swooping salt and pepper hair stood there stoically, cradling his worn, dog-eared Bible. Ace’s brothers and friends stood to the side of him in their tailored suits, while Ivy, Claudia and a couple other women from Brooklyn’s job did the same, dressed in their satin green gowns. Ace caught himself daydreaming as he stared at the minister’s bible. He disappeared within himself. He was thinking about God, about religion. He had questions, lots and lots of questions…
Just as fast as the thoughts of drilling the man upstairs with a long Santa-Claus-letter style list of inquiries popped into his mind, those same thoughts puffed away into thin air when Brooklyn made an appearance. The sight of her had him so weak at the knees, he had to work hard to stay upright. Silently, he gave thanks for the beauty that floated towards him. Her gown, off one shoulder, made of ivory satin with unbelievable detail, left him breathless. She looked chic and sophisticated, thanks in part to his mother who collaborated heavily on the design. Brooklyn wasn’t certain what she wanted, so his mother took one look at her and led her away to a tiny bridal boutique downtown where she shopped at for custom dresses. The rest was history.
Mr. Henderson’s eyes seemed suspiciously glossy as he walked up with her and gave her away, but then, his face registered pure delight. Ace nodded at the man and bowed, giving a bit of reverence to the father of the bride. He did the same to Mrs. Henderson, who sat there by her son, dotting her eyes with a Kleenex.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony...”
The ceremony went on as planned and surprisingly, Ace found he didn’t get in much of a joking mood. He was too busy swimming in disbelief that this day was actually happening, and stealing glances in her direction.
“I, Ace Blackstone, take you, Brooklyn Greene, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ’til death do us part, according to God’s Holy Word. This is my solemn vow…and I mean that,” he added at the end, causing a few hushed chuckles. He wasn’t trying to amuse, but felt compelled to say it. He squeezed her hand a bit tighter.
Brooklyn looked into his eyes, and repeated her vows. Now, he got an even better look at her, and she left him in absolute astonishment. Her dark eyes s
parkled, accented with earth tone eye shadow, barely noticeable had it not been for the way the make-up sparkled under the strung white lights. Her lashes were their typical long, thick illustriousness, only helping to bring attention to one of his favorite features about her. He then lowered his gaze to her supple lips. Flashes of how he’d pressed his lips over them that morning when she awoke popped into his head like the white lights from a snapping vintage camera. He couldn’t wait to do it again. They glimmered and shined, summoning him to get closer. Dare he admit it, he felt a bit possessed, caught up in the physical, emotional and spiritual connection between them, which left him damn near paralyzed, yet thirsting for more.
He couldn’t stop his mind racing, running wild. Soon, he felt the cold metal on his finger. She’d slid his wedding band on…He looked down at the thing, sprawling his fingers for a better view as the minister continued to talk. Everything seemed so surreal, strangely enchanting. Alas, it was over.
“May the blessing of the Lord rest upon you and the home that you are establishing for all of your days and years of your life. Amen.”
“Amen,” the audience responded.
“You may kiss the bride.”
The room drew quiet. All that could be heard was the tinkling of a nearby indoor waterfall. Ace studied the woman for a moment, then put his index finger on her chin, bringing her mouth to his. Her silky lips parted, exposing brilliant teeth. He turned his head ever so slightly to the right, then a bit more, and moaned deeply as their mouths connected. They remained that way for a few moments, while a flutter of applause sounded.
Finally, the minister said, “I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone!”
~***~
“That’s just the thing, I’m tryna, relax, baby.” Ace gritted his teeth as the alcohol began to make him a bit woozy. It was impossible to take Brooklyn anywhere without getting some sort of history lesson. What had once seemed cute was now just plain annoying — but she did it so well, he usually didn’t have the heart to tell her to cut it out. Fact of the matter, he just wanted to chill. He didn’t want to hear about the history of Santa Maria del Giglio while the man on the gondola serenaded them, and he didn’t want his wife to point out every single semi-submerged building during the tour of Venice. The woman had been there countless times, yet, even this one evening on her honeymoon, she couldn’t simply sit back and enjoy herself. He’d had enough. Gently, he tugged at her shoulder, made her listen.
“Brooklyn, baby.” He cleared his throat and kept her firm to his chest as he gently strapped her in, seatbelt style, with his arm. Her light jacket blew in the soft breeze and wisps of her hair followed the same flow. “Look, you’ve been here…what? A hundred times? I asked you where you wanted to honeymoon at, you said Venice, so here we are. This is the first time you are here for a non-business related venture. This is your damn honeymoon, with your man…your husband…”
“But I—”
“No, no…” he whispered calmly in her ear. “Hush. You’ve been talkin’ way too much. Don’t get me wrong; the shit is interesting, okay? It smells like fucking garbage over here, but you manage to make the shit romantic, lovely, with all your factoids. Still, I arranged for us to get this ride, this private tour all to ourselves and for this creepy little Italian dude to sing to my woman while he keeps staring at your damned breasts and thighs and giving you the eye. He looks like a fucking mime, but I’m going to make him scream if he keeps that shit up.”
A chuckle escaped her mouth. “You’re paranoid! He’s not looking at me like that!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me… If someone could be undressed with just a mere thought, you’d be sitting here in your damned panties thanks to Mr. Luigi over here. I’d like nothing more than to push his black and white striped shirt wearin’, perverted, little bar-handle mustache sportin’ ass right over this goddamned boat, for ogling my girl…but I gotta keep cool.”
At that declaration, she erupted in an avalanche of guffaws. He shook his head, grinned, and kept her close while he buried his chin in her hair on top of her head.
What a beautiful night…a perfect night. But one thing was missing — and he couldn’t wait to get to it…
~***~
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The Luna Hotel in San Marco was one place that Brooklyn hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing while cracking open the world of Venice in her prior visits. First of all, it was out of her price range. Despite her handsome salary, the thought of a four digits price per night made her eye twitch as if she had endured a caffeine blood transfusion. Notwithstanding her monetary knee-jerk reaction at such a hefty fee to lay headfirst in the lap of opulent luxury, her new hubby insisted upon it, stating in his typical nonchalant way, “You only live once…”
Little did the man know, as he paraded around in his black swanky robe singing into his fist that she ‘gave love a bad name’ with twisted lip guitar riffs, that he’d nailed the very thing she wished to embrace. Life was truly for enjoyment, and in her own self-conditioning of ducking and dodging, living under a proverbial rock from her one-woman self-appointed protection agency, she hadn’t had an opportunity as of late to truly live up to the motto. Seeing ancient human remains day in, day out, had a way of doing that to a person. How could she not contemplate mortal existence, quality of life, and how we have a short span of time to embrace the Earth, to experience all that life has to offer? It would be impossible to get everything checked off her imagined bucket list, but damn it, she’d die trying.
Her soap-sweetened skin felt still slightly damp from the shower. She glanced at the emerald and gold bed, noting her silky dark red nightgown lying neatly across it. The overhead glimmer of light from the Murano glass chandelier above the bed caught her eye as she continued her survey of her surroundings, wrapped in the arms of awe. The hotel room dripped with sophisticated, lavish décor, the kind wealthy Italians were no doubt accustomed to. She slid on her gown and sprawled on the bed, lazily turning onto her side. Ace now stood by the window, his fingers holding back the curtain, observing the view from side to side, as if watching a slow-paced contact sport. She loudly patted the bed, getting his attention.
“What are you doing way over there?” Her lips curled in a smile. “Come here and sit by me.” She sat up on her elbow, grinning, as he bobbed over, slid under the cool sheets and brought them up to his narrow hips. The faint sound of chimes could be heard as the Venetian evening wind blew outside of their window.
“Those sound like Tibetan bowls during meditations.” She slid her hand across his. They sat in their respective silence while the tranquil breeze ballad continued.
“Ace.” She gathered closer to him, wrapping her arm tight around the man’s hard frame. A citrusy scent, mixed with a hefty musk, billowed from his fresh, clean skin, made her groin twist with impending anticipation.
He always smells so good.
She ran her fingers along his upper chest, tracing the flames of the dark, foreboding tattoo.
“If you could re-do anything in your life, anything at all, what would it be?”
He leaned back a bit into his pillow and ran his palm over the top of her hand, looking straight ahead at nothing in particular.
“I can’t really say that I would re-do anything. I have some regrets, but they taught me more about myself, helped me get from A to B.”
She nodded, traced his shoulder blade and curled into him.
“What about you?”
Brooklyn was quiet for a long while. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her crown.
“I don’t regret leaving my family, but…I do regret that talking to them again took so long. I think, maybe, if I had of known what really happened, I could have saved everyone a lot of grief.”
“Baby.” He moved his hand slowly up and down her arm in a warming caress. “People are ready when they are ready. Nothing can be rushed beforehand. Your father may not have been ready to tell you the truth until the very moment he
saw you…you really don’t know. You may not have been ready to see him until you actually saw him, after such a situation. Trauma has a way of changing people, you know?” He paused, shuffled his legs under the sheets. “It changes who we are. But, I believe pain gives birth to new meaning and a transformation that we were destined for. Kinda like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly. There’s a struggle, but without that struggle, the realization wouldn’t come to fruition. Kinda like…kinda like me and you…” His voice poured out like velvet, deep and rich.
His heartbeat went strong right under her ear as she settled comfortably on his chest, speeding up as he spoke.
“The entire time, we were both struggling. We both wanted something else, something different than what we had. I didn’t know I did; you knew what you wanted, you just weren’t sure how to get it. You led me along, simply by being you, and then, I could see. I knew without a doubt what I needed.” His voice cracked a bit. She stared at his wedding band gleaming on the ring finger as he ran his hand up and down his thigh.
“I agree with you, Ace.” She wiped her nose, her heart swelling a bit. The memories were painfully true as his words went along the pictures of their courtship in her mind. “We were getting to know one another, and that pull between us was so strong. I realized I loved you way before I told you. It was a wonderful feeling that I was able to let go and find someone I could be myself with. I don’t like how it all happened, but, I can’t say I regret it, either. It seems it was necessary, just like you said, to get us where we are right now. I can’t promise you that I would’ve continued dating you, if I weren’t in love with you first. Matter of fact, I will tell you the truth right now. Had you told me early on, we would not be married right now.”
“I figured as much… That’s not a confession, that’s just the truth, a natural, normal truth, considering the circumstances.”
