Jaded (The Butterfly Memoirs)

by Kane, M. J.

“What if we spent the day together away from here, with clothes on?”

  Zack stopped in mid-motion, and turned to face me, a questioning expression on his face. “Are you talking about a date?”

  “No, no, I mean…we could hang out somewhere, friends do that sort of thing.” My gaze went to the large open windows lining the room. The sunrise lit up a beautiful blue sky and showed promise of a cloudless, clear day. “What if we went down to the beach and had a picnic?”

  He leaned against the counter, crossed his arms across his chest. “Sounds promising.”

  “I’ll go home and take a shower. I’ve got a few calls to make and emails to check. What if we met at the Santa Monica Pier around…one o’clock? I’ll take care of lunch if you bring a blanket and something to drink.”

  A slow smile spread across his face, making his handsome features even more attractive. My heart did some stupid loopy trick. We definitely needed to get away from here.

  “I like that.” He retrieved the toast, added butter and jelly, and then handed me a plate. Orange juice followed. He stood at the island counter top across from me as we ate, the same happy expression on his face, but when our eyes met, a devilish expression lit his eyes.

  I had the feeling suggesting we meet later for the ‘non date’ would not be a good idea. But it was too late to turn back now. This was never put into the rules so we weren’t breaking them…just, doing something different. As friends.

  Maybe if I kept telling myself that I would believe it.

  Chapter 19

  Whoever said taking a cold shower could kill your sex drive lied.

  No matter how many showers I took, it didn’t stop my mind from conjuring up the image of Yasmine in my bed. Matters only got worse when I looked at the tangled sheets, and smelled the lingering fragrance of her perfume. My fingers tingled from the memory of her soft skin as I ran my fingers along her thighs, the taste of her tongue on mine when we kissed, and the erotic sounds she made as I explored her body.

  A time check showed it was just 11:45…a little over an hour from now and we would meet again. I couldn’t believe she took my suggestion we explore more opportunities to get to know each other and asked me out. Okay, so it wasn’t an actual date, but we would still be meeting, sharing a meal, and getting to know each other on a deeper, more personal level.

  Not that there could be anything more personal than what we’d been doing over the past two months.

  I dressed in a pair of black cargo pants, black t-shirt, and a green, yellow, and black button up casual shirt I left open. A pair of black Nikes sat by the bed. In the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and trimmed my goatee. Not bad.

  I found an old blanket in the closet large enough to be used for a picnic. The only reason I had the thing was because Melissa had left it behind.

  Thinking about her was nowhere near as painful as it used to be. The more time spent with Yasmine, the more my unhappy thoughts of my previous relationship became a distant memory.

  That called for a celebration. I decided to pick up a bottle of wine. This afternoon felt as though it could be a step towards something more between us. What exactly, I didn’t know, but I wanted to find out.

  ####

  “This spot is perfect, Zack.” Yasmine spread out the blanket while I carried the picnic basket she’d brought.

  We were both shoeless, having kicked them off the moment we reached the sand.

  “Glad you like it.” Mission accomplished, we sat opposite of one another and faced the ocean.

  The activity of the boardwalk was a backdrop to the breathtaking ocean view. We decided not to sit too close to people who were sunbathing, and walked a distance to find a patch of sand where no one else sat.

  Yasmine reached into the basket, placed two plates, silverware, and napkins between us. “I picked Italian, since we both seem to love it so much.”

  “It smells good.”

  A smile played on her lips as she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She pulled out a large container. Steam floated in the air, carrying the rich aroma of our meal as she removed the lid. My stomach growled while I studied the contents as she divided the food between two plates.

  Chicken breasts, mushrooms, tomatoes, onion, and garlic rested on a bed of pasta; my mouth watered involuntarily.

  “What is it?”

  “Chicken Vino Blanco,” she laughed when I made a face. “Basically, chicken with white wine sauce served over linguine.” She reached into the basket again and pulled out a package wrapped in aluminum foil; breadsticks. “I hope you like it.”

  “It looks good. Plus, it seems I chose the right beverage.” I reached for my backpack for the bottle of chilled white wine and two wine glasses I brought from home.

  Her smile was bright. “Yes, you did.”

  We laughed when I popped the cork and it flew into the air. She searched for it at the end of the blanket while I poured.

  Once the cork was back in place and the bottle settled in the basket, I handed her a glass. “How about a toast?”

  “We toast a lot, don’t we?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, we do.”

  “So what do we toast to this time?”

  I pursed my lips for a moment, examined the delicious spread, the peaceful surroundings, and the beautiful woman sitting across from me. “To defining a new type of relationship.”

  Her thin eyebrows creased. “A new type of relationship?”

  “Yes, it suits us. Think about it. What you and I have is not something easily found. I’m willing to bet our friendship is a lot better than fifty percent of married couples.”

  Yasmine cocked her head to the side to watch a couple as they walked the surf in the distance. They were together, but not holding hands. “I see your point. Cheers.”

  We touched our glasses, and sipped. My eyes were on her as we savored the sweet wine.

  “I love Moscato.” She licked her lips.

  I forced myself to look away. Damn. Maybe we should have done something other than this… hiking? Rock climbing? No, neither would work. Both activities would have her in front of me and my eyes staring at her perfectly shaped derriere. The more I thought about it, I realized there wouldn’t be an activity we could do together that could keep my mind completely off of sex. Every time she licked her lips, smiled, looked at me…hell, every time she breathed, it turned me on.

  I sampled my meal as a distraction. “So, what do you want to talk about?” The chicken was good.

  Yasmine swirled a sample of noodles mixed with tomatoes on her fork. “Hmm…family. That’s a topic we’ve never really focused on.”

  “Okay, you first.”

  She chewed thoughtfully. “You didn’t exactly like this question the first time I asked, so I’ll try another avenue.”

  My eyes shot over to her. “What do you want to know?”

  She rested her fork on her lip. “You said it’s hard to remember your father because you were young when he died.”

  “Let me elaborate. I remember what he looked like. There are pictures of him everywhere. But his voice…I can’t remember what he sounded like when he spoke. Sometimes I can remember the sound of his laugh. He smiled a lot and always seemed to be happy.”

  “Can you remember any happy moments?”

  I set my fork down, picked up my wine, drank, and stared at the ocean waves. “He used to work two Saturdays a month. The two he had off, he made sure he spent time with me and my mother. One Saturday was for me. We’d go to McDonald’s for lunch. Afterwards, we’d go to the comic book store and spend hours searching for a series we wanted to read. We’d go home and each night before bed, we’d take turns reading the pages. We’d make up voices of the characters and sometimes act it out.” The memory made me smile. “We’d read that comic several times during the month before it was time to find a new one. Those were good times.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  The next swallow I took was longer. “What about you?”

/>   “What about me?”

  “Have you worked things out with your family yet?”

  Yasmine’s cat-shaped eyes cut over at me. “No, I haven’t.”

  I pursed my lips for a moment. “Yasmine, don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to let it go.”

  “Excuse me?” she snapped. Her eyes went to slits as she huffed. “Zack, you don’t understand. They took my dream and slapped it down as if it were nothing but a joke. They never asked questions and barely listened to what I wanted. My mother called it, ‘a dream that would screw up this family’s hard work.’” She punctuated the statement with air quotation marks.

  I let her vent. In a matter of seconds, her cool demeanor changed as her breath came out in a short, sharp burst; her lips quivered. She had every right to be upset, but, like every story, there were two sides.

  “The only person who attempted to show interest was my father. He suggested waiting for six months before asking for money.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why did he suggest that?”

  She breathed deep and rolled her eyes. “Because they were in the process of opening the new hotel.”

  “So they didn’t actually say no.”

  Her eyes cut to me. “No.”

  I waited a beat. “Would it have been wrong to wait a few more months?”

  I walked a tight line playing devil’s advocate. It wasn’t my intention to hurt her, only to show time had passed, and maybe she should rethink the matter. It’s always hard to understand the motivation of others when you’re stuck on what you want.

  Yasmine sipped her wine and then shot me a sideways glance. “I see what you’re trying to do, Zack, but it’s not going to change the way I feel. I understand why they wanted me to wait. But, I’ve spent the majority of my life doing what they wanted. I’ve also spent a majority of my life worrying what people around me said. In the last year, I’ve been hurt, lied to, and used.” She turned to face me completely, passion and conviction in her eyes and voice. “I refuse to live like that anymore. It’s selfish, I know, but there’s a point where you have to do for you. My time is now. If I don’t take it…” Her gaze left mine as her eyes began to glisten. “I’m going to disappear, Zack. There will be no more me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She wiped her eyes. “It’s just…I have a goal, something that represents me, who I am. My wants, my dreams, my needs. I can’t find them while continuing to put them on the back burner for someone else. Do you understand?”

  I studied her eyes. The gray hardened as her words grew passionate. I reached out to wipe a tear as it slid slowly down her cheek.

  “Yes, I understand. You have a valid point. Unfortunately, so do your parents.”

  Yasmine scoffed and gulped her wine. “So you’re saying I’m wrong.”

  “No, I don’t have anything to say about your parents because it’s not my place. How they decide to run their business is up to them. What I’m saying is this: don’t allow your emotions to get in the way of what you have.”

  “What exactly do I have, Zack? When I look at my best friends, I am jealous when I shouldn’t be. Both of them are in committed relationships with men that adore them…Kaitlyn has started a family. You think I don’t want those things? Just because I refuse to be in another relationship doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wanting them.” Yasmine paused and wiped at tears with the heel of her hand before staring out at the ocean. “You know what I have, Zack? No home, no business, and no family of my own. Nothing to indicate ‘Yasmine Phillips was here’. The only thing I have is my car…which my parents paid for, by the way.” She inhaled deeply as if fighting off more tears.

  “You have more than that.”

  She huffed and let out a cynical laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  “Yasmine, look at me.” It took a couple of seconds, but eventually she faced me. “You have beauty, you have your health. You’ve got a good heart and a family who loves you, even if they aren’t giving you the support you want right now. They trust you. It they didn’t, you wouldn’t have been put in charge of running their business.

  “They’ve spent money and time grooming you to be the best at your job. They trained you so well that you’re ready to take what you’ve learned and use it to serve a purpose you feel works best for you.” She breathed deep. My words were hitting the target. “You’ve got two parents who are alive; be thankful for them. Treasure them because you never know what could happen. You don’t want the last thing you said to them to be something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

  Yasmine’s eyes welled up again, and this time, she turned away from me. I sat quietly while my words sank in.

  “I hate you right now,” she murmured. The steel in her eyes had melted away to a mellow grey when she shot me a sideways glance.

  “But you know I’m right.” Unable to resist, I put a finger under her chin and turned her face so her gaze held on me. “There’s something else you have.”

  She sniffed. “What?”

  I inclined my head and stared deep into her eyes. “You’ve got me.”

  Chapter 20

  I sat in the driveway of my parents’ house, keys in hand, my head resting on the driver seat’s headrest.

  For the past week, the conversation with Zack made me think. Life was too precious to waste time being mad. Did I feel wrong about my decision to leave the family business and go on my own? No. But I could have handled it differently. Most people gave a two-week notice before leaving. Mine lasted two seconds. I owed my family more than that.

  Both of my parents’ cars were in the driveway, and since it was seven o’clock in the evening, I knew my mom would be in the kitchen making dinner. She loved to cook; it was the way she unwound after a long day.

  I made up my mind no matter how this evening turned out, I would not leave upset again, no matter what either of my parents said.

  I sucked up my pride, got out of the car, and rang the doorbell.

  “Yasmine…is everything okay?” My father’s heavy eyebrows were weighed down in concern when he opened the door. It nearly broke my heart. I hadn’t spoken to either of them in weeks.

  “Hi, Dad, I’m okay. Is it alright if I speak with you and Mom?”

  “Of course.” He stepped aside so I could enter. “She’s in the kitchen.”

  I waited for him to lock the door and followed him down the corridor to the kitchen. My father’s laid-back mood didn’t surprise me. I would always be his little girl, no matter how old I got, even when I disappointed him. My mother would be the opposite. Whenever she got angry, the Irish temperament came out and she’d hold a grudge for days; so did I. Maybe the weeks gone by since the argument would have calmed her down.

  I steeled myself as we entered the kitchen. My mother was barefoot, wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt with the words ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ on the back. I bought it for her two years ago.

  “You know, that’s still true.” I stood in the doorway waiting for her to turn and acknowledge my presence.

  She turned in surprise. “Yasmine, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to talk to both of you, if that’s okay.”

  My parents looked at each other before my father pulled out a chair from the kitchen table for me to sit.

  “We’re listening,” he said.

  I took a deep breath. “First of all, I want to apologize for the way I acted the last time I was here. It was childish, selfish, and not how you raised me to act.”

  “You got that right,” my mother said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She sat down at the table across from me.

  “I’m not saying this because I was wrong about what I said or asked, only how I responded to your answer.” I spoke directly to her.

  She crossed her arms and pursed her lips, her fiery grey-blue eyes steady on me. I fought the urge to squirm in my seat. I wasn’t twelve anymore. I was twenty-eight, a woman on my own who had the right to say whatever I want
ed. I only needed to be respectful to the people who gave birth to me, raised me, and taught me to be the woman I’d become.

  “Rachel.” My dad put a hand over hers, his silent way of calming her. “What did you mean to say, Yasmine?”

  I took a deep breath and focused on what I wanted to say, ignoring my mother’s disbelieving facial expression.

  “My goal of opening my own business is not just about me. Yes, it is my goal to become a fashion consultant, but I also want to help our family.”

  “How could becoming a fashion consultant help manage the hotel?” my mother snapped.

  I forced myself to ignore the urge to argue. “For the past four months, I’ve been running a test study at the Inn. It started by accident. One of the customers asked if I knew any good places to shop for an outfit. I gave her a list, but she returned a few hours later disappointed. I asked her what she was looking for and gave her suggestions on what she could do. Frustrated, she begged me to go with her, offering to pay me for my time. I had no intention of taking her money, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to help.” I paused to read my parents’ expressions. Nothing.

  “After a few hours, we found what she was looking for. She was so happy she gave me a generous tip and promised to book a weekend for her and five friends to come back. She wanted me to help them, too. She came back - with her friends - a month later.”

  “Wait a minute; she came back with more people?” Dad asked.

  “Yes, five actually. They ended up booking three rooms.”

  My dad sat back, the wheels obviously turning in thought. My mother’s eyebrows creased as well.

  “I went with them, on my own time, and helped them shop. All of them were pleased when they left. They decided to make a girls’ weekend trip to our Inn and shopping every few months a tradition. And they want me to help them.”

  My father leaned forward, his elbows propped up on the table. “So what you’re saying is you’ve found a way to increase the revenue of the hotel, even in the off season?”

  “Joe, I think she has,” Mom answered before I could speak. “Can you imagine if that kind of service were offered at all of our locations? I don’t think there is another bed and breakfast that does that.” Excitement flashed in her eyes as she calculated the numbers, her business instincts kicking in.