by Costa, Bella
Chayton trots up to us, beer in hand and spreading my legs, flops down between them, his head resting between my breasts.
"Hi." He grins up at me.
"Hi yourself." I smile shyly.
"I hope no-one has been giving you a hard time."
"Oh no, on the contrary, your Homies have been very forthcoming."
"Oh! That doesn't sound good.” He frowns and narrows his eyes at Angela in accusation.
"All of it harmless – except for maybe a mention of Mavis, which I shielded as fast as I could." She responds, teasing.
A low growl escapes his throat and I can't tell if he is angry or just playing.
Jumping up he lifts me and hauls me over his shoulder, I squeal as he smacks my backside hard. I can hear all the hoots and whistles but keep my eyes squeezed shut.
Suddenly I'm thrown on the huge double bed in the master suite and he is leaning over me, his lips grazing my neck.
"Morgan gets really talkative after a few beers," I mumble.
"I think Morgan's tongue needs pruning. I might have to ask Mr. Nobrega to deal that. Or maybe I can handle it myself."
I grin at the mental image of the elderly Falcon's Lodge caretaker and a giant hedge trimmer, chasing Morgan around the grounds.
Chapter 16
"Mr. Donavan. I do believe we had a deal this weekend. I submit - you talk. So start talking!"
"I am talking, Angel."
"Mmm. Yes, you are. I like this conversation," I giggle. "But I was thinking more of a private conversation."
"Private?" His nose skims the length of my belly.
"One that doesn't include Bo, Luke and General Lee."
"I like to share," he grumbles. He sits up on the bed, drawing his knees up under his chin, ankles crossed and hugging his knees. He studies me for a few moments then starts to talk.
"I'm a fraud."
Okay. Not what I was expecting. Chayton gazes at me, a picture of sincerity. "How so?” I ask, more curious than concerned.
"With exception of Morgan, all those guys out there and a lot still on the street believe that I'm something I'm not," he says leaning forward to kiss me again.
"Oh no you don't! Talk. You can't just say that and leave it there. Out with it.” I demand, pushing him back.
He sits back and sighs deeply. "My second night on the street, a rather notorious hard arse drug dealer was cut up really badly and left in an alley. He was a real piece of work, from what I've heard. Even his own people were terrified of him."
"You didn't...?" I whisper horrified.
Chayton snorts. "Well there's the thing. Everyone thinks I did. I was wondering about aimlessly, and discovered his body. I ran. Oh God, did I run. I was so scared." I exhale loudly with relief. "About half way down the alley, I stumbled and fell, flat on my face. I broke my nose, cut my lip and grazed my hands in the process. Some kid saw me come out of the alley, looking like I'd taken a beating. So later, when this guy’s body was found in the same place, rumour got around that I killed him. Thankfully the cops never found out - but on the street, well it was kind of a blessing and a curse."
Chayton runs his hands through his hair and wait for him to continue his story.
"My almost instant notoriety gained me protection from the majority of Seattle's gang population. They were just too scared to touch me. On the flip side, there were always a handful, wanting to make a name for themselves by challenging me. I had to get tough really fast."
"Did you ever...?"
"No. Nothing more than a few fistfights. I was just lucky that's all. I did my best to stay out of trouble. No drugs or any of that stuff. I did have a gun. It was for show. It didn't work."
"What about stealing and stuff?"
"Well technically, no." His mouth slides into a crooked smirk. "We discovered this weird law. If you only move a car a short distance - I can't remember the exact distance - it is not technically stolen. So we did, on three occasions. We would move a car around a corner and hold it hostage."
"You what?" I laugh.
"Yup, we wouldn't even damage it. One of the kids knew where to 'borrow' a couple of wheeled jacks. We would lift the car and tow it around the corner. Then we would remove one wheel, and ask for twenty dollars to return the wheel and release the car."
"And that worked?"
"Mostly. It was too much effort I suppose, to get the cops involved for a few bucks, and no damage was done."
"Mostly?"
"Well the last time I tried it, the guy insisted I put the wheel back on. Then he gave me the keys telling me to drive, while he climbed in the back seat and started to read a newspaper. I was freaking out but curious. So I did."
"Weird. So what happened?"
"I became his driver and assistant during the day and at night I was socialising with Mavis. My new daytime employer was a stockbroker. He taught me how to read the markets, gave me my first $10,000.00 to invest, which I paid him back with interest. The contacts I made with Mavis helped. I used the money I made and my reputation on the street, to get the younger kids off the streets and back into school before they got sucked into the hardcore shit."
"So what's the problem?"
"Acacia, those kids almost worship me. It's all based on a lie."
"Did you ever think that maybe their respect has more to do with the fact that you care when no-else does and that because you were one of them, you don't judge?"
He pulls a face, not looking convinced.
"What does Morgan think?"
"He thinks it's funny," Chayton says with disgust.
"Perhaps you're over thinking this. Let it go. Nothing more than an Urban Legend. Chayton, you have done nothing but good for these people. You couldn't be there for your mother. No one blames you but yourself. But you've been there for dozens of young people who had no one else. Your mother would be proud of you." I stare into his pained eyes. "I'm proud of you."
~.~
I discover that all the guests are spending the night. This is apparently a traditional event, which Chayton throws every year. What it means is that everyone can really let his or her hair down because no one has to drive anywhere. Between the main house, the two guest cottages and the games room, where all the kids are camping out, there is plenty of room for everyone. I expect the party to continue into the night for traditional fireworks so I am surprised when I'm hauled into the room next the master suite. A box and two shopping bags are laid out on the bed. I'm ordered to change and Chayton disappears.
I find a dress, red, fitted and long with thin straps and swag bodice. A beautiful black strapless lace one piece and pair of killer high, metallic bronze Jimmy Choo wedges. I’m a little pissed that he thinks he has carte blanch to choose my clothes again but a deal is a deal and I'm burning with curiosity. I take a quick shower and dress, brushing through my hair until is shines and sweep it back into a loose pony.
When he enters the room again he looks and smells edible, freshly showered and dressed in shirtsleeves and suit pants.
He pauses on the threshold and gazes appreciatively at me, making me flush.
"You are so beautiful," he breathes. "You should be illegal. Come." He offers me an arm and escorts me to the drive where young Rex is standing to attention at the open door of the Kubang. I blush as the kid eyes me out appreciatively only to divert his eyes when Chayton growls something in street slang.
"Rex didn't come to the party?"
"Rex is a PeeWee, he still runs for one of the gangs. When he has proven to me that I can trust him and that he'll stay away from all that shit, then perhaps he can join the family. In the mean time he has a job to do – and it's not looking good."
He pulls me up close beside him on the spread of the back seat, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and I lean against him as we leave Falcon's Lodge behind us. Chayton stares out of the window, this morning's strange mood, slowly seeping back. He has been up and down today. I thought this morning’s strange mood had something to do with m
e meeting his friends. I don't understand why it's back. I choose to ignore it as I think back on how revealing today has been. He has a fleet of planes, his best friends and closest family other than Savannah are the men, women and kids he has saved from gang life. Added to his strange and saucy relationship with a much older woman as a result of his attempts at male prostitution, his secret Robin Hood society and his almost split personality. Wow! Never a dull moment.
~.~
It's just before eight in the evening when Rex pulls into the busy parking at Elliott Bay Marina. Boats? Water? I had almost forgotten about his earlier reference to water. Chayton helps me out the vehicle and I stand up studying him.
"This has many possibilities."
"Does it?" he smiles shyly.
"It does, Mr. Donavan. Are you going to give me any clues?"
"It may involve a boat," he smirks. I'm clearly not getting anywhere and despite his attempts at playfulness, and I still sense an undercurrent in his mood, which is starting to irritate me.
"You look ready to run. What the hell has got you so skittish?" I demand. He arches and eyebrow, shocked at my outburst.
"Well?" I push. Chayton glances around quickly and either smoothes his trousers or wipes the sweat off his palms. I suspect the later.
"Your imagination, Acacia. Really. I just want you to enjoy your evening, okay? Can you do that for me?" he whispers the last question as he raises both my hands and kisses each of my knuckles in turn.
"I'll make you a deal." I whisper back. "I'll enjoy my evening if you promise to enjoy yours." He gazes into my face and nods slowly.
"There are a lot of deals rolling this weekend. I'll see what I can do. Come." He wraps an arm around me and we make our way through the sea of clinking masts and gently lapping water. We pause next to a huge cruiser and I stare up at the behemoth as she towers over us.
"How big is she?"
"Fifty Eight foot I think." He shrugs.
"Not yours?” I ask with a smile.
"What makes you think that?" he asks smirking.
"You don't strike me as the boating type."
He offers me a tight smile. "No not mine. But it is ours for the evening. Come on. Let's get on board before I change my mind."
Maybe he is doesn't like boats. Jeez, could this be what's bothering him? If he doesn't like boats, then why are we here? I shake my head in exasperation.
I am quickly introduced to the small crew of three and Chayton leads me upstairs to a deck behind the wheelhouse where a small table sits snug in the middle of a U shaped upholstered bench. Chayton helps me slide onto the bench and I slide over enough for him to slide in next to me. To my surprise and disappointment, he opts to slide in opposite me, keeping the table between us. What this then?
"Do I have a contagious disease Mr. Donavan?"
"Perhaps," he smiles shyly, but doesn't elaborate and I narrow my eyes at him.
"Your friends have a lot of respect for you." I try a change of tactic.
"Friends?"
"At the barbecue today."
"Oh. Well they deserve the respect just as much, if not more. They are only where they are today because they made that choice, that decision to go for it. That takes a lot of guts." Chayton gazes at me his fingers stroking his chin as he talks. "I only showed them the choices, the possibilities."
"Very often that is enough. It doesn't make it any less of a good deed."
"Maybe. But it takes guts to go out there and take the risks, use the opportunities presented to you. They have my respect for that."
"Isn't that how it happened for you?"
"What do you mean?" A small crease forms between his eyebrows.
"Well, you said you were helped to get off the street. I'm guessing becoming Mavis's Toy Boy isn't what you meant."
"I was, but it was different."
"It usually is with you. So?"
"Well for a start the man who took me under his wing? He took a massive risk offering me a job, trusting me with his car and so on. I owe him so much more than respect."
"He didn't really give you anything other than an opportunity. You were the one who took it. You took the risk Chayton. To me it's the same. And those boys today, see you with the same admiration as you see the old man who helped you. He put his faith in you and you put yours in them." Chayton looks uncomfortable and immediately I regret bringing up the topic. I only meant to distract him.
Chayton is quiet the rest of the trip and has spent the last fifteen minutes staring dead ahead, the muscles on his jaw working overtime. I watch him intently, partly looking for clues to his strange mood. Mainly though, taking the opportunity to take in his sculptured features properly. Normally when I sneak a glance, he catches me and I am compelled to look away. I am worried about his mood. I have seen him angry, thoughtful, aroused; oh, yes-he is a sight when he is aroused. Somewhere deep down, everything clenches sweetly at the memory, before my concern returns. We anchor just off Bainbridge Island and the whole trip has taken just over half an hour.
I slide around the bench and crawl onto his lap, stroking his stubble with the tips of my fingers. I want to wipe away whatever is bothering him. An arm wraps around me, he gazes down at me with darkening eyes and I think my ploy is working. His lips find mine. There is something different in our kiss. His lips are not demanding and guiding. They are hesitant, pleading and if fear had a flavour, this is how I imagine it would taste.
I break away, frowning at him. "What is it?"
"Dinner, Angel,” he whispers, sounding positively relieved.
~.~
One of the young crew has appeared from below with a lidded tray, silver no less and places it carefully in the middle of our table followed. Food? I am starving. A second crewmember appears a moment later with a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of Bollinger and two slender flutes. Chayton dismisses the two youths with a smile and a muttered thank you and I watch in fascination as he strips the cage and foil from the bottle. His skilled hands twist the bottle from under the cork and he smoothly pours us each a glass before re-corking and burrowing the bottle deep into the ice. Chayton smiles broadly as he offers me a glass and for the first time this evening the smile reaches his eyes, his earlier stress forgotten for the time being.
"Cheers."
"Mmm... Cheers." I whisper as the tiny bubbles caress my mouth.
"Hungry?"
"For many things. Yes." I smile as I gaze at his face.
"Well, being a man, I'm not much good at multi tasking." His grin broadens and his eyes twinkle mischievously. "So shall we start with the food?"
"If I recall you are quite good at multi tasking where food is concerned,” I tease, blushing at the memory of a particular adventure into Falcon's Lodges kitchen one night.
"Behave!" he replies huskily.
He lifts the lid off the tray and reveals two smaller lidded plates and two linen serviettes. No cutlery or condiments. What, on earth, are we having for dinner?
He pulls the large tray to the side, places a plate in front of each of us and removes the smaller sliver lids with practised flourish.
"I know it's Thursday, not Friday but...”
My favourite Friday night dinner! I gaze up at him in pure joy.
"Meatball Marinara Sub with everything, My Lady! Just the way you like it."
"Wow, how?" I look around almost expecting to see a floating Subway restaurant pulling away from the cruiser. Chayton just grins in amusement.
"This is fantastic! What are you having?"
"I believe mine is a Philly Steak Melt," he murmurs eyeing his Sub suspiciously.
I dig into my Subway with my usual enthusiasm occasionally washing it down with a sip of Bollinger. Who would have thought that champagne would work so well with a Sub! The late summer sun hangs low in the sky and colours have taken on a magical air as we savour the quiet, the good food and each other’s company. Chayton doesn't seem as enthusiastic about his food as usual and I do not think it's the fo
od that's the problem.
"You don't like boats much do you?" I ask through the burn of a jalapeno.
"I guess I am more of a landlubber." He looks embarrassed.
"Landlubber? Did you just make that up?" I laugh.
"No. It's in the dictionary...I think." He pouts and tries to hide behind his glass as he sips from his glass.
"Is this what's been bothering you all day?"
He flushes slightly and shrugs. Hmm.
~.~
We hear the first distant echoing bang of fireworks, scattered along the shoreline of Bainbridge Island, as the sun disappears just after nine pm. It's just after ten when the serious firework displays light up the opposite shoreline along the Sound, competing with the lights of Seattle and reflecting in the water. The sparse cloud cover is high and most of the fireworks explode into a glittering spectacle of colour. The ones that make it high enough to be enveloped in the clouds turn the thin bank into a pulsating, glowing clump of coloured cotton candy. We appear to be surrounded and I watch spellbound at the electric show that goes on for ages as I lean against the handrails. Chayton leans behind me his arms wrapped tight and warm around my upper body, his chin on my shoulder. We are still standing like this when he whispers in my ear, so softly that I am not sure I have heard him right.
"Acacia, will you marry me?"
What? My brain refuses to function, the words 'marry me' on repeat, echoing in my ears. My eyes stuck on the spot the last firework exploded along with my last breath. Everything is frozen at the precise moment I heard 'marry me'. His turns me and lifts my face to his and I blink.
"Excuse me?" My voice is tiny and far away.
"Will you marry me?" he drops to one knee in front of me his hand fumbling about in the pocket of his jeans and he pulls out a ring.
Come on Acacia...snap out of it! I can't. I gaze dumbly down at his beautiful sincere face. Finally, my legs give out from underneath me and I slide down onto my own knees. My throat is closed shut and my eyes are threatening tidal waves.
"Acacia?"
"I um...Shit!" I exclaim.
