A Diamond in the Rough

by Elisa Marie Hopkins

  Cassie puts her hands on her hips and scans the area for her procreator. “My mother might be in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. Seriously, I told her I would be right back to introduce you to her. She should be around here somewhere.”

  When she doesn’t find her, she takes my hand again and pilots me up the white marble staircase. On the top deck, people are socializing beside the swimming pool with refreshments in their hands and half masticated appetizers whirling around in their mouths. People approach us and wish Cassie a happy birthday, some saying hello to me, but she’s more interested in escorting me to her mother.

  A white-gloved waiter offers Cassie and me some cocktails, somewhat elevating his silver dish. I snatch one right off his tray with no planning or pondering of any sort.

  “Are you nervous, Sophie?” she asks.

  I’m horrified. Boats aren’t my thing. “No. I’m okay.”

  Her new stunning pink diamond earrings reflect the sun’s afternoon glow. “Good, my mother is very nice. You shouldn’t worry about her.”

  My mouth curves up into the fake, coy smile I’ve perfected over the years. It becomes more and more difficult to maintain the longer we search, even though this condition manifesting inside me is in no way about her mother.

  I glance over and see one smoking-hot Oliver by the bar seizing two cocktails and handing one to a man by his side. As always, he’s quite charming. He’s dressed in taupe linen and burgundy dress shoes and his suit is open, revealing his white shirt underneath.

  “Finally! Victoria!” Cassie shouts. “I couldn’t find you anywhere. This is Sophie Cavall.” She waves a hand at me. “You know...Oliver’s friend.”

  Here we go again with the “friend” issue.

  “Impossible,” Victoria says simply. “Oliver is not one to have female friendships. Come to think of it, Oliver is not one to have many friendships.”

  “I think it’s obvious for all of us, Mother. If Oliver and Sophie are just friends, then you and I are talking dolphins.”

  “You must be quite the woman to pin our Oliver down.”

  “I don’t think I’ve quite done that, Mrs. Black.” I hold out my hand to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise, dear.”

  “Oliver is as stubborn as a mule,” fills in Cassie.

  “Yes,” Victoria says. “But the time will come when the right woman forces him to admit he is not as tough as he wishes he was, or as insusceptible to emotional attachment.”

  Victoria seems like a smart woman. My head starts to grow fuzzy and my legs begin to move like gelatin. Paralysis threatens my ability to keep a conversation going. I lower my drink and Cassie and her mother both ask if I am feeling well. I say I feel fine, but the reality is—I shouldn’t have come here—a clammy sweat is breaking out all over my body and my heart is pounding. My body is rejecting the effort to confront this nightmare.

  “Easy, Sophie. Easy.” Oliver swoops in and takes me into his arms. “I’m right here.”

  My head spins...round and round.

  “Sophie? Sophia!” Oliver’s voice seems to fade away quickly, then I hear it again. “Someone call a doctor!”

  ***

  WHEN I WAKE, I’m resting on a wide bed like I’m a sacred offering upon an altar. A slight aching throbs in my head. I move my eyes around, searching for focus but too disoriented. I keep trying until gradually images start to solidify around me. Sparkling cherry veneer covers most visible surfaces. Decorative accents and lamps hang all over the walls. I get that we are still on the yacht as I look out the windows and see the ocean’s paramount blue-green. Slight movement also registers on me and I realize we are not at the dock any longer.

  Oliver sits next to my sprawled body and a doctor is putting medical gear inside his briefcase. I push myself up with my elbows, but Oliver coaxes my head back to the pillow and orders me to rest.

  “You called a doctor?” is the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

  “You were shaking, your eyes closed, and you collapsed into my arms. What would you have had me do differently?” His response is sharp and instant.

  The doctor cuts in on the lecturing. “You fainted as a result of high blood pressure.” He cups his hands against his midsection.

  “No surprise there,” I say.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “My mother had high blood pressure, type two diabetes, and probably a lot of other diseases.”

  “Have you been tested for that?”

  I cringe. “No.”

  “You should come by my office. I’ll run the proper tests and let you know where to go to from there. From what I gather, it doesn’t seem serious.”

  I nod.

  “If you find your heart beating faster, and your head gets a little dizzy, take a deep breath. Remove yourself from the stressful situation that is causing an elevated blood pressure. You should be fine.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  Oliver has a quick talk with the doctor. I over hear the assurances that I’ll pay him a visit to get checked up. Then the doctor leaves the room and I look at Oliver, who is staring at the ground like he’s paying respect at a funeral.

  “What’s going on with you?” My voice sounds steady. I feel almost normal by now.

  “I’m taking you home.”

  “Why? I’m feeling better.” I tap my cheeks to enliven myself even more. “I probably already ruined my chance at a good impression with your mother and I don’t want to do—”

  “She’s not my mother.”

  “She’s not? I’m...sorry. I’m really sorry. Cassie said she was her mother so I just assumed. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

  “You just said sorry three times. You’re babbling again, Sophie. I’m not mad. Victoria is just my step-mother.”

  “What about your real mother?”

  I blurt it out like I have no control over my mouth and I’m barfing the contents of my head.

  “My mother passed a couple of weeks after giving birth to Cassie. Medical negligence.” As he says it, I can’t detect any visible melancholy in his face. “Victoria, my stepmother, was the attending nurse. My father married her sometime after my mother died.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sure she would be very proud of Cassie. She is a sweet, sweet girl.”

  “I’ve provided for Cassie almost as her father, given her what I believe she needs.”

  He stands, walks across the room, retrieves something from an armoire, and then hands it to me. A photograph of an elegant woman and a young boy with extremely cute hair is enclosed in a gold and silver picture frame. “I named this boat, Princess of Wales after our mother, Diana.”

  “She’s beautiful, Oliver.” I evaluate the photograph and fail at containing a few giggles. “Is this you in the picture?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are insanely cute.” I set the frame on the bedside table where it should be...not hoarding dust in some armoire. “What was your mother like?”

  “She had a way with words and people.”

  “Now I know whom you take after.”

  He grins. “If you knew her, you automatically loved her.” It melts my heart as the words leave his mouth. He remembers her with deep admiration and love. “She would talk to me and finish her sentences with my name. She always told me that it gave her words more meaning.”

  I’m not much of a life poet. I’m generally clueless as to what is right to say when discussing the world and whatnot. Most of the times, I’m told what to say. I feel that loss for words even more in this moment, when Oliver is giving me an account of who his mother was.

  “I love her already...Oliver.” I smile, placing a hand on the side of his face, sliding it past his hair, and looking into the blue depth of his gaze. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  “You’re welcome. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You don’t talk about your parents.”

  �
��Yeah about that...” I sigh. “There’s nothing to say really. There’s my dad, whom I’ve never met.” I pause, putting together the words. “I think he’s in prison for a sex offense thing. Might be out already, I don’t know. My mom said I was better off without him.”

  I can tell he doesn’t exactly know how to react. “What about your mother?”

  “Also imprisoned.”

  “Your mother’s in prison too?”

  “Was. She died a long time ago.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. It happens. It’s just me, my aunt, and her family now.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” he says in a voice tinged with humor. “Me.”

  “Oh, it goes without saying, baby.” I lean in and kiss him, long and slow.

  Cassie and Victoria knock twice, barge into the suite, and ask in unison if I feel any better. Victoria is stunning. A mane of dark hair flows curvaceously to just below her shoulder blades and contrasts against her small, sea green eyes, making them appear so bright, even in the dimly lit room. Her orange, fitted dress is bewitching, complimenting her young age. I would dare say she is in her mid-forties.

  “Would you like to come out on the deck?” Victoria asks. “The sun is about to set. It is lovely over the water.”

  “There’s cake, wine, champagne, and almost anything you’re feeling in the mood for.” A flash of humor crosses Cassie’s face.

  “Cake?” Best way to make my ears pop is to hear cake, pie, cookie, ice cream, pastry, or any of their byproducts. “I like cake.”

  “Great!” Cassie celebrates. “Then you will definitely want to try Bavarian mint with strawberry fillings.”

  “Will you leave us for a minute?” Oliver says above his shoulder, turning his back to Cassie and Victoria. They look at each other in understanding and leave the room.

  “Did you hear? There’s cake, Oliver. I have to get my hands on that cake.” His lips thin into a smile. “But first, I want you to brush that look off your face.”

  “Please, forgive me.”

  “Forgive you? Don’t be silly. What for?”

  “For bringing you here. I knew you hated boats and, still, I acted selfishly and I apologize if—”

  I raise my finger over his lips. “Shh, be quiet. It’s not your fault. Things happen. It’s okay.”

  “I’ll take you home, Sophie. I can assure you this will never happen again.”

  “Christ. Stop talking already.” I move my lips a hair’s breath from his. “I love being here with you. I don’t think I would’ve done this for anyone but you.” I land playful kisses all across his mouth, chin, and cheeks while I cup his face with my hands. “And I don’t want to hear another word about this, Oliver Black.”

  FIFTEEN

  “SOPHIE, THIS IS Luke.” Oliver introduces the tall, fair-haired man with a buzz-cut head. “A good acquaintance of mine.”

  “Acquaintance? OJ, are you eighty or what?” this Luke person says with an eyebrow raised. I quickly think of orange juice, but then remember Oliver’s second name is James. Firmly Luke places his hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “You have?” My heart leaps at the idea of Oliver chatting with someone about me, but when Luke coolly answers, “Oh, yeah! All the time on TV,” my heart can only whimper like a scolded puppy and crawl back to its habitat.

  I’m irritated and embarrassed so I simply say, “It’s very nice to meet you, too.”

  “I have to admit we’ve met before.” Luke slides his hands inside his pockets. His mysterious, broad smile welcomes me into some territory I cannot decipher. “It was a long time ago, while I sat in the backseat of my car at the corner of Houston and Lafayette. I looked up and there you were, featured on a billboard for Gucci.”

  I smile until Oliver drapes his arm around me. His tight grip pulls me sideways and his hold on me coerces my artless reply. “Interesting story.”

  “Keeping her all to yourself, Black?” Luke asks, his arms overlapping against his broad chest.

  “I wonder what is misleading you to believe she isn’t all mine.”

  I let out a nervous peal of laughter. He has never said such a thing publically. I look at him like he holds the answers to the mysteries of the universe, shrugging off my sudden, rapid heart rate.

  “I heard about the meeting with Gordon,” Luke says into his wine glass. “Load of hypocrites, I tell you.”

  “Not here.” Oliver disciplines him, shaking the hand of a man who moves past him. “We talk about something else or we don’t talk at all.”

  Luke gives him a nod but insists. “Look, I didn’t have anything to do with that. It was just plain business, man.”

  Oliver seizes a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray. “Enjoy the party. Excuse us.”

  ***

  THE WATER REFLECTS the sky’s explosion of pink and orange. I huddle under a generous overhead and lean against the handrails at the side deck. The air is cold and unwelcoming. I tuck my arms over my chest, trying to get some warmth.

  I turn my head to look over my shoulder. Oliver traces his fingers along my arms. He moves my ponytail to the side, inhales my scent, and then kisses the nape of my neck. I let my head fall back on his chest as his hands find mine.

  We stay like this, out of view, for some time.

  “Mr. Black.” A boat worker comes up to us. “Your sister wishes that you join the party on the main deck.”

  “Thank you. Tell my sister we won’t be long.”

  He releases my hands. “Wait just a second,” I say. “Don’t let go just yet.”

  “Sophie.” He smiles. “I do not plan on letting you go.”

  He wraps both his hands around my upper arms, pulls me closer, and looks into my eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes glow like a starry sky. They are almost the color of the world’s ocean photographed from space. I used to tell myself I had a fascination with the stunning color. Now, I think it’s the expression in them that is the most mesmerizing. The way he looks at me...to be cared for this way...to be so high on each other. I wonder how this can happen so effortlessly in a seven billion people world population—the cared-for responding to the one caring for in the same exact way.

  “So, tell me more about Luke,” I tell Oliver.

  “He’s a friend.”

  “A friend?”

  He gives me a sly smirk. “Are you implying that I don’t have friends?”

  “No...of course not. You probably have millions. It’s just that I had never met a friend of yours before.”

  “I know a lot of people, but I don’t have many friendships. I’m not looking for them. I look for connections.”

  “Like professional connections?”

  “Like people who will add more life into my life.”

  My stomach flutters at the idea. “I like that. That’s actually...nice. ”

  “Irrelevant acquaintances are time consuming. I have more enemies than I have friends. Luke is a work colleague. He runs the energy business for the company. Besides, who needs friends when I have you?”

  It feels tremendously good to have someone who cares. “Well, I might not always be around.”

  He laughs. “There you go again. You’re such a fatalist.”

  “And you’re such an optimist.”

  We stroll back to where society is congregated on the deck. Fireworks with magnificent colors start being shot up into the sky, peacefully falling after their marvelous display. They are dazzling and spectacular. I get to thinking about the lively music accompanying the fireworks and what mastermind figured out how to blow up the sky so beautifully. The next thing I know, Oliver is taking greedy ownership of my waist, breaking my reverie.

  “People are watching,” I say, more as a reprimand than a straight observation. “And some are whispering.”

  “Let them.”

  “Behave. Not here, Oliver.”

  I take in my surrounding
s and feel myself getting lost again by the end of the fireworks.

  Oliver brings my wandering thoughts back again when he announces that he will grab my coat like I am a child in constant need of tender love and care. I tell him I’m not cold, but he shoots a penetrating stare and then updates me on the weather report. “It is fifty-two degrees outside.”

  Every ounce of defensiveness I carefully cultivated over the years disappears. I am rapidly willing to please. “I don’t even know why I bother in the first place,” I say. “You are going to do as you wish in spite of what I tell you.”

  “Yes, it’s called resolve.”

  I bite my top lip to disguise my smile. “You are agonizing, you know that?”

  He takes off to look for my coat and Cassie sneaks up on me. “Having a good time?”

  “Of course I am. This is such a great party. Thank you for inviting me.”

  She raises a toast to that and takes a drink of her blue cocktail.

  “Oh, don’t mention it. Thank you for coming.” Her words slur a bit. I can tell she’s already had a couple of those blue drinks. She tips her blonde head back and lets the hip music wash over her.

  “Oliver loves you so much,” I say. “You are lucky to have him in your life.”

  “Yeah. He’s the best brother a girl can have. He’s a weird man, but I love him. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Do you love him?”

  Her electric blue eyes glitter while I am seeing stars. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask as I try to piece together a good answer.

  She says it again, slowly, for me to hear. “Do. You. Love. My. Brother?”

  “Oh. Cassie, I don’t...”—know what to say—“I mean, I’m...I guess we...it’s complicated.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s obviously okay if you don’t. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t apologize, I just...” It feels like a hippo is sitting on my chest making it hard for me to breathe. “We’ve known each other for a really short time. I...”—still don’t know what to say.

  “It’s fine, I swear.” She puts her hand on my arm, but I feel disapproval in her touch. She tells me she better get back to her friends and pulls away with a fading smile, but I know I have upset her. “Just...please, don’t hurt him.”