Carnival

by D. M. Thornton

  Under different circumstances, I would be flattered Fletcher is standing up for me. During the course of our relationship, he never was good at doing so. However, he has yet to explain to the media we are no longer together. Instead, he continues to defend me and, before we walk off stage, he has the nerve to say, “Ms. Posey and I are just as devoted to one another as the day we met. We love each other deeply and can’t wait until we get married.” To drive it home, he plants a kiss right smack dab on my lips then pulls me from the room and leads me out to an awaiting limo.

  I refuse to get into the car when Fletcher opens the door for me. “What the fuck?”

  “Just get in, please,” Fletcher says, reaching for my hand.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Fletcher,” I seethe. “What happened to you telling the press we aren’t together?”

  “I will, I promise. I can explain, but first come with me, please. I don’t want to talk about this out here.”

  The driver is patiently waiting for us to get into the car. I have only a second to decide as reporters are starting to emerge from the conference hall. When they see Fletcher and me standing in the parking lot, they begin to jog toward us, propping their cameras on their shoulders and screaming questions in our direction.

  Fletcher’s eyes are pleading, and with no car of my own to get home, I have no other choice but to slide into the back of the limo. Just as Fletcher closes the door, reporters are swarming around the vehicle banging on the windows. “Drive,” Fletcher orders.

  I shrug off Fletcher’s hand when he places it on my shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Piper, love. Please,” he starts, but I cut him off with a hand in front of his face.

  “Don’t. I don’t want to hear your fake promises. I want you to fix this and fix it now.”

  “I will.” He pauses. “Just not yet.”

  My head snaps in his direction, anger coming up for my toes. The burn settles in my chest and I want to scream. I want to beat my fists on his chest and shake him until he has come to his senses.

  He sees my anger and he throws up his hands in a truce like the gesture alone will make everything better. “Please, give me some time. Just until the election is over and then I’ll make a statement. I’m begging you right now. If I need to get down on my knees, I will. I will do anything, but please, stand by my side until the election is over.”

  I’m livid, disgusted…disappointed in myself for leaving Oliver for Fletcher’s slimy, sleazy ploy. I should have known better. I should have been smart enough to realize Fletcher wouldn’t have voluntarily announced our breakup, and now he wants me to play house with him. I can’t pretend we’re together. Not for him, not for the election.

  “No,” I answer, looking out the window, refusing to make eye contact. Because I know the minute I give Fletcher the satisfaction of my eyes, he’s got me. I will not let him talk me into doing what he wants for another second. So, I turn my whole body away from him and keep the passing cars in my focus.

  The cars turn to street signs, the street signs turn to trees, the trees alternate with houses until the limo pulls through the opening private gate of the house I once shared with Fletcher. My heart beats quicker, my palms begin to sweat, my breathing grows shallow, and I lean closer to the window until my forehead meets the glass. “What are we doing here, Fletcher?” My voice breaks into a shaky whine.

  “I have a surprise for you. For us.”

  I face him when I say, “You know I don’t like surprises, Fletcher.”

  The driver holds the door open for us, but I don’t follow Fletcher out of the car. He turns and holds his hand out to me, but I don’t take it. “Please take me home,” I say to the driver.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but…”

  “He can’t take you home, Piper,” Fletcher interrupts. “Not yet. We have to make a pit stop first. Come, love.” He waves his hand at me, but I push it away and get out of the car without his help.

  When I see two suitcases in the foyer, I start to panic. I wait for Fletcher to disappear into the kitchen to pull out my phone from my purse and start to text Luna.

  *Luna, I made a mistake. I need h—

  My phone is pulled from my hands and, before I can snatch it back, Fletcher slips it into his back pocket. “Give it back,” I order.

  “All in due time, sweetheart.” Fletcher takes the two suitcases and walks out of the front door, leaving me chasing after him.

  “No, now goddamit.”

  Fletcher passes the suitcases off to the driver, who puts them into the back of the limo, then comes back to take my hand. He tries to lead me toward the car, but I yank my hand free and clumsily run to the gate at the end of the driveway, beating my fingertips into the keypad. When the gate refuses to open, I kick off my heels and try to squeeze myself through the bars.

  “Love, you will not fit through those,” Fletcher says.

  I ignore him and try every which way to contort my body. “Let me out, Fletcher!” I scream. “Open the fucking gate!”

  Panic floods me, tears escape my eyes, my fists grip the gate as I cry. The wrought-iron is cold on my forehead. I’m caged. Vulnerable. At Fletcher’s mercy.

  “Come, love, we must be on our way.”

  Defeated, my shoulders slump and my feet shuffle to the limo where I slide to the far end of the bench seat, getting as close to the door as possible.

  The sinking feeling in my belly escalates the further we drive, turning into nausea when the limo stops on the tarmac of a small airport meant for private jets. I slip my heels off, prepared to make a run for it the moment I step outside of the limo. I take the opportunity when Fletcher lets go of my hand to take the luggage from the driver.

  I sprint as fast as I can, down the tarmac and toward the lobby of the airport. It seems close, but it’s further than I thought and I’m beginning to get winded. When I step on a rock, I begin to limp, losing momentum. My chest burns, pain stabs at my side, and the blacktop has ripped holes into the soles of my tights, rubbing the heels of my feet raw.

  The door is within my grasp and I reach out my fingers to grab it, but just as my hand is about to lock onto the handle, my feet leave the ground as I’m being lifted by the waist.

  I’m spinning and screaming, “Let go of me!” I kick my legs into Fletcher’s shins and punch my fists into his arms that are tightly secured around my stomach.

  “Stop making a scene,” Fletcher’s voice growls in my ear.

  “Then let go of me!”

  One would think if they heard a woman screaming and being taken against her will, they would come to said woman’s rescue. But no one emerges from the surrounding buildings to see what the commotion is all about. No one intervenes. No one seems to care for anyone else’s wellbeing other than their own.

  When we approach the steps of the private jet, I stiffen my legs and jut out my feet in attempt to not be pushed up them, but Fletcher wheels us around so he can walk backwards. I stop hitting Fletcher’s arms and grab the handrails, drawing a halt to being dragged up the stairs.

  “Stop being so fucking difficult,” Fletcher barks in my ear, prying my fingers off the bars. He overpowers me and continues up the stairs, carrying me like a ragdoll, dropping me in a seat in the middle of the plane. He points a finger at me. “Sit. Don’t move.”

  I’m out of the seat. “I’m getting off this plane whether you like it or not.” I go to push by Fletcher, but he squares off and blocks my way. My teeth clench together and I say through tight lips, “Move.”

  Fletcher’s face shows his disdain, but he takes in a calming breath and the angry wrinkles around his forehead smooth out. “Listen, let’s just calm down, yeah?”

  “I will not calm down. You have taken me against my will. You’ve kidnapped me!”

  He laughs. “I’m not kidnapping you, sweetheart.”

  I take a step forward. “Then I’m free to go.”

  Fletcher shakes his head and meets my step with one of his own. “Af
raid not. Look, I know this has gone astray. It’s not at all how I expected it to go, but I need you to trust me.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “That’s the thing, Fletcher. I don’t trust you.”

  Fletcher takes a knee before me, his forehead resting on my abdomen. “I’m begging you, Piper. Please, please just trust me. Take your seat so we can take off. Please.”

  “You have lost your ever-loving mind, haven’t you?”

  He looks up at me, his eyes pleading. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Because right now, I would do anything to get you to stay. Please, will you take your seat?”

  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Fletcher so vulnerable. It catches me off guard. My heart weakens, ever-so-slightly, just enough for me to feel the tiniest bit sorry for him. Defeated, I walk back to my seat and sit, pulling my legs into my chest.

  Before taking the seat next to me on the other side of the aisle, Fletcher leans down and places a kiss on the top of my head, whispering, “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

  Ten

  Piper

  I slept through the whole flight, crying myself to sleep. When I wake up and look out the window, I gasp. Teal water is below us for as far as my eye can see. It’s crisp and clear and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. There is a pang of excitement and not in a good way, but in the way that says I like what I see but shouldn’t be eager to know where we are heading. Nothing about what Fletcher has done is acceptable nor should I be remotely curious. My anger is steadfast, not wavering the slightest. Until we land.

  I see a sign with big letters screaming at me we are in Fiji. Fletcher offers his hand to me, trying to give me assistance down the steep stairs of the jet. I ignore his hand and hold the railings for guidance. When my feet hit the tarmac, I stop and breathe in the fresh air of the island. Earthy. Salty.

  “You always said Fiji was the one place you dreamed of visiting. I promised you far too long ago I would bring you here. I hope you can see why I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  I refuse to show any sign of joy across my face. It’s nearly impossible, but I am determined to not give Fletcher the satisfaction. It’s true, and I am shocked he remembered not only promising me we would come here, but that Fiji is the one place I’ve been wanting to see. Without cracking a smile, I nod and answer with a curt, “Thank you.” My hand falls on my hip with attitude. “But don’t think for a second I will let being kidnapped slide. What you did was inexcusable.”

  “Would you have come voluntarily?” he asks, taking the luggage from the attendant.

  “No.”

  Fletcher’s lips flatline. “Hence the reason I was a bit forceful, and I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

  My finger waves in his face. “Bringing me here doesn’t make up for all you have done, Fletcher.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t. But now that we are here, can we pretend just for the next five days none of the past exists? This is common ground, a clean slate of new beginnings.”

  “As long as you understand that by coming here doesn’t mean we are together. That ship has sailed, and we are only here as friends.” I say the word sharply.

  Fletcher nods. “Deal.”

  I nearly cry when I see the private bungalow. It’s everything I have ever dreamed of with glass floors to see the teal blue water at every step. There is a wrap-around deck, one side branching out with stairs dipping into the ocean while the other side hosts a lounge area and pool. A hammock swings between two wooden posts off the sun porch, and a slide twirls around the veranda. Windows, they are everywhere. At every turn there is a view of endless, crisp water. It’s breathtaking.

  “You can take the master. I’ll take the room down the hall,” Fletcher says, setting a piece of the luggage on the bed. “I hope I did okay with your luggage. I grabbed what I could find. You left quite a bit.”

  “Yeah, I was in a hurry,” I comment dryly. Walking around the room is intimidating. Being able to see through to the ocean floor is trippy, and when a big fish swims beneath my feet, I squeal and jump onto the bed.

  Fletcher chuckles. “I’ll leave you to get acclimated. I’ll order us food. I figured we would be tired and would want to take today to unwind from traveling.”

  I slide off the bed, letting my toes press into the glass before settling my feet fully on the clear surface. I tiptoe around the floor, bumping into things because I’m too enthralled by watching life swim under me.

  A garment bag hangs in the closet, and I push it to the other end so I can hang the clothes Fletcher brought me. The good thing about having all my belongings is not needing to go back to Fletcher’s house to fetch them. Now, it will be one less thing to worry about when I get back to the States. I fill the dresser drawers with my undergarments and line the few different pairs of shoes Fletcher packed on the floor in the closet before setting up the bathroom with my toiletries. I must admit I’m impressed how perfectly he packed the essentials. He thought of everything and supplied me with the necessities I’d need to get through this trip. I’ll never tell him, but he did good.

  The bed is large and comfortable, the pillows plush. I take a few minutes to rest, taking in the beauty on the other side of the windows. I’ve wanted to visit Fiji for as long as I can remember, but not like this. When I thought of Fiji, I envisioned lying on the beach with my husband. Snorkeling during the day and making love under the stars at night. I never expected my trip would consist of being kidnapped by my ex-fiancé. As gorgeous as it is, it’s hard to enjoy under the circumstances. There is a void in my chest not even the ocean can fill.

  The water calls to me, each ripple waving me to get a closer look. I can continue to hide out in my room, or I could make the best of a messy situation. So I slip on my bathing suit, sneak out of the sliding door attached to my room, and follow the deck until I find the stairs that lead to the water. There is a small platform hidden at the bottom of the steps. I scoot a lounge chair out of the way so I can sit at the edge of the platform and dip my feet into the warm water.

  My feet swirl in circles, swooshing the water around my ankles. It’s refreshing, and I don’t waste another second sitting. I push off the wood planks and dive in, pinching my nose to avoid the surge of salt water. I float onto my back and let the sun beat down on my face, the warmth of it tingling my skin. Closing my eyes, I let go of the bad vibes encompassing me. I let them free to dissipate out into the open sea.

  But I can’t enjoy the release for very long. The water quakes around me and splashes in my face, causing me to sink below the surface. When my head pops back up, I gulp in a mouthful of salty air and wipe my eyes clean. Fletcher swims by me, and circles. If I had enough strength and thought I could get away with it, I very well could drown him. He has put me through hell and now treads water in front of me, a smirk playing upon his lips.

  I kick my legs and propel backward away from him.

  “The water is fantastic, isn’t it?” he says, swimming alongside me.

  “Glorious.”

  The further I swim away from him, the more he keeps in line until I’m fed up and exit the water using the stairs at the lower deck. But, he follows me and crosses his arms over the deck to propel himself out of the water. “Are you getting out already?” he asks, clueless.

  “I need space,” I say over my shoulder, wrapping one of the towels Fletcher brought down with him.

  He laughs, waving his arm wide. “How much more space do you need? Just look at this.”

  I tuck the corner of the towel between my breasts and turn to look at Fletcher, holding eye contact so he can see my face when I reply with a curt, “I need space from you.”

  I climb the next group of stairs and weave around the deck until I find the pool. It’s not the ocean, but considering Fletcher’s ego is as big as the south pacific, I’ll settle for solitude in a more confined place. Besides, water is water no matter if it’s boxed in with glass walls or if it spreads across the earth. Selfish, maybe. Do I care, not one bit. A
ll I need is time to myself. To process what is happening.

  Fletcher allows me to breathe. He doesn’t push and gives me the space I’m craving. When the food comes, he brings me a plate and sets it on the table by the pool. “Thanks,” I mumble.

  His lips turn up and he pauses, waiting for me to invite him to join me. I don’t. I’d much rather stab a fork in my eyeball than sit across from him while I eat. He hangs his head and shuffles away like a dog with its tail between its legs. I don’t feel the least bit guilty about it either.

  I devour the soup of delicate white fish and taro. It’s delicious and fills my belly with the warmth I need to relax. I sip the drink from the shorn half-shell coconut, savoring the earthy flavors as it coats my tongue. My skin tingles and my shoulders droop into a calming curve. When my eyelids grow heavy and my head bobs, I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, trying to wake myself up. It’s no use. With a full tummy and an exhausted mind and body, I gather my things and dispose of them on the kitchen counter before tiptoeing into my room.

  The bathroom is just as spectacular as the rest of the bungalow. Clean lines and stark white, the claw tub sits on a tiled platform with French doors that open to the beauty of the sea. I fill the tub with hot water and sprinkle in a few drops of coconut essential oil before I step in. I close my eyes and rest my head against the lip of the porcelain, inhaling the aroma of coconut and salt. It’s what I dream heaven smells like. A mix of sweet and savory. Fresh.

  I succumb to sleep until the water chills and there is a quiet knock on the bathroom door.

  “Piper?” I hear Fletcher call my name. “Can I come in?”

  Clearing my throat, I respond with a brash, “No, no, you may not.” I snatch the towel off the rack, covering myself just as Fletcher pokes his head into the bathroom. “What on earth, Fletcher? I clearly said you were not welcome in here.”