Reckless Abandon

by Jeannine Colette

  A breeze passes through the park and I watch as the hair in her ponytail dances in the wind. She eyes the violin I am holding and then looks at me, questioning my judgment and her own.

  “Why would you give that to me? Is it stolen? Am I being set up or something?”

  “No. I just have no use for it anymore.” I hold up my hand and show her the scar. “I’ve been put out of commission indefinitely and she needs a new home.”

  Allyce doesn’t question my referencing of the violin as she. She places her old violin on the ground and takes the Vigato.

  “She’s beautiful.” She studies the hour-glass shape of the Italian-made instrument. She then places it up to her chin and checks for comfort. They look like a perfect fit. “I’m sorry to hear about your hand. Must have been rough. Why would you want to give her up to a complete stranger?”

  Looking down at the pavement, I think about that for a moment. The truth is, I have no idea. In fact, this is the third most impulsive thing I’ve done this year, and perhaps in my entire life.

  The first was asking Luke to drive fast. The second was stripping naked in front of a god with a cello. Those two events left me feeling empty. But this? Well, if it makes me feel empty again I can live with that. For some reason, I don’t think it will.

  “I don’t know. I just know it will get better use with you. Selling it feels wrong. I can’t imagine her going to the wrong person. You two just look right together.”

  Allyce takes my answer and seems to understand it in an odd way. She places the bow to the strings and starts playing. As soon as the bow hits the strings I feel burn in my eyes and a feeling of loss takes over me. Before I start to lose it, I turn around and start to walk away.

  My feet are just a few feet from Allyce when she stops playing. “Wait.” She says and starts to walk toward me. “What do you do now? I mean, now that you can’t play?”

  I turn back around toward Allyce. “I work at the Juliette Academy. It’s a free music school over on—”

  “I’ve heard of it. Wait right here.” She says before walking back to her spot and gathering up her old violin that was wrong for her. She puts it back in its case and walks it over to me. “Here. Pay it forward.”

  “No. Thank you but you don’t have to do that—”

  “Actually, I do. I believe in karma. Giving you an old violin for a new one is the least I can do.”

  I nod my head and with pure reluctance accept it. “Thank you.”

  Allyce nods her chin and steps back, walking to her place by the bench. “Any requests?”

  “La Vie En Rose.”

  With a smile, she lifts the violin to her chin and starts to play. The beginning chords vibrate so beautifully. I can’t stand to listen so I take the old violin and walk out of the park. My heart rate is not as rapid as I thought it would be. My anxiety levels are manageable. This was a good thing to do. It was right. My mouth is widening on my face. I actually feel okay.

  Near the exit I see a black SUV and today I don’t think it’s a coincidence. My smile instantly fades.

  I stomp over to the car and as soon as I reach it, I grab the handle and open the back door. I nearly jump out of my skin when, instead of finding an empty backseat, my entire field of vision is filled with Alexander Asher.

  As the door opens, his body jerks back in surprise. He must not have expected me to approach the vehicle, let alone open the door. His mouth is open and his eyes are wide; a shocked expression mirroring my own.

  Okay, I’m surprised, too. I assumed Devon was the driver but I’m not prepared to see him here. I was just going to launch the case into the seat and slam the door or something.

  “Here.” Hands shaking, I shove the case onto his lap. His hands rise as he stares at the violin resting on his thighs. “It’s a gift for the school.” I step back and am about to close the door when I add, “And stop following me.”

  I make a point to slam the door as hard as I can and walk away.

  Yeah, so you know how a minute ago I was pretty calm and cool? Well, not anymore.

  Karma is a bitch.

  A ninja turtle, four Elsas, and an astronaut knock on your door. What do you do? You give them candy.

  I’m glad Mattie gave me a heads up on the amount of kids that would be knocking on the door tonight.

  I put orange Halloween lights in my apartment window and have been standing at the building’s door with a giant bowl greeting the trick-or-treaters. I got tired of walking back and forth from my apartment so I thought it was better to just stand post at the front of the building.

  “Happy Halloween!” the kids chant as they walk away. Another group approaches and we start all over. This time there are only two Elsas, a Cinderella, and a Darth Vader.

  “If I ever have kids they are never allowed to dress like Elsa.” Mattie startles me when he creeps up behind me.

  I place my hand over my heart and catch my breath. “Geez, give a girl a warning.” Looking down, the trick-or-treaters are staring up at me with their open trick or treat bags.

  Mattie snakes an arm around me and grabs a Reese’s Pieces from the bowl. “Damn, woman, you give out good candy. I thought you couldn’t give out anything with nuts to kids anymore?”

  “What do you know about kids? You’re still one yourself?” I scoff.

  Mattie hold up his hand showing his middle, ring, and pinky fingers. “Three sisters. Seven, ten, and fifteen. All from my dad’s second marriage and trust me, they live in a nut-free world.”

  He pops the Reese’s in his mouth and moans as if he just tasted the most tender piece of filet mignon. He swallows and points a finger at me. “And don’t call me a kid. I’m the same age as you.”

  I give him a laugh. “No. You’re in school. I run a school. You’re a boy. I’m a girl. In maturity years that’s like a decade.”

  Mattie puts an arm on my shoulder and pats it lightly, “Yes, mam.”

  I offer a wry smile at his sarcastic remark. When he steps in front of me I appraise his costume for tonight. “Beetlejuice?”

  “Robin Thicke. You should see my girl’s costume. She’s a goat.”

  The look on my face is filled with confusion because I have absolutely no idea what he is talking about. Mattie lets out a belly laugh that carries him to the corner and out of sight.

  I back away to close my door when something catches my eye. A light reflects off a piece of chrome from across the street and I step forward to look again. There is a shiny motorcycle parked on the opposite side of the street. Standing beside it is a piece of gold, brighter than the setting sun.

  That gold is a man, and one I would never in a million years have pictured standing on my street corner.

  I tilt my head and look back at him wondering why in the world Alexander Asher is here. He’s wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket. It’s a look so different from the two I’ve seen on him. Far more relaxed than the suit and tie, yet more intense than in Carpi. His hair is styled back but with a messier look, which must be from wearing a helmet.

  I look down at my own attire. I’m wearing jeans and an orange V-neck sweater in honor of the holiday.

  There is no reason I can think of for why he would be here. We haven’t spoken a word to each other in weeks, aside from when I caught him spying on me at the park. When I got home, I sat in the chesterfield contemplating what the hell it meant. I came up with nothing.

  And now I’m completely confused as to why he’s standing across the street looking at me. With no clue as to what it is he wants, I turn around and go back to my apartment, leaving the front door to the building open and the door to my apartment slightly ajar.

  I take a spot in the kitchen and turn down the volume on my speakers and wonder if he’ll follow me inside. Do I want him to come in?

  Kind of.

  Damn it!

  I’m picking at the polish on my nails when I hear footsteps and the sound of the front door of the building closing. Those footsteps get lou
der as they draw near and I know he’s coming in. My door slowly opens as Asher pushes it with the pads of his fingers. I watch as his eyes dart around the room taking in the space.

  He turns his head to the living room and the bookcase along the wall. Something on the shelf catches his eye so he walks in, taking slow, tentative steps into the room. He has on boots, which is better than the loafers. They’re heavy and make a low thud as he walks.

  Stopping in front of the bookcase, he picks up a picture of Luke and me, taken on his eighteenth birthday. Luke’s red hair is shaggy and an absolute mess. It was right before he started wearing it short to “appease the ladies.” I am wearing a grin from ear to ear, hugging his torso and looking in to the camera with eyes so bright, I haven’t seen them in my reflection in months. Asher picks up the photo and examines it, probably looking at the girl in it like she’s a complete stranger. The corner of his mouth tilts up and then he puts the photo back in its place. He looks at a few more photos I have, including one of my parents and another of Leah and Adam at their engagement party and my sweaters that are folded on display on some shelves of the bookcase, before walking over to the couch and rifles through the magazines I have on the end table.

  Taking in the artwork, the sparse furnishings and the reading nook, he looks to be examining my home. It takes him all of three minutes. When he has made a full three-sixty around the room, he looks over at me in the kitchen, standing here like a frightened turkey.

  “This is where you live?” he asks.

  I blink a few times, assessing the question. My eyes shift from side to side in confusion. When I don’t give him an answer, he looks down the hall and zeros in on the door to my bedroom.

  “Don’t even think of going back there.” My words are sharp. Bad enough he’s standing here judging my home. There is no way I am allowing him to invade my bedroom.

  Asher looks to his left and smirks. “Emma, your room is no more than ten feet from where I’m standing. You’re not hiding anything back there.” He is looking around the place like it’s beneath him. “I can walk across this entire apartment in ten steps.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “What do you want from me?”

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, those gorgeous golden gems travel up and down my body, as if it’s the first time he’s really noticed me since we reconnected. His chest rises and Adams apple juts out with a swallow.

  “You look good.” His voice is sincere and not condescending but it’s the way he’s standing, so dominant, that makes me wary of his intentions.

  “Thank you?” I want to kick myself for answering in such a way.

  His eyes bear down on mine, the two of us in an intense standoff of silence. He looks like he is going to say something . . . profound? Instead, he closes his mouth and walks over to the window in the front and investigates the lock. The window frame has been painted over, quite possibly fifty times in as many years, so the metal latch is painted shut. I watch as Asher tries to raise the window but to no avail.

  “You shouldn’t be on the ground floor.” He motions to the iron bars on the outside of the window. “Those need to be updated.”

  My mouth is agape at his rudeness. “Did you come here to criticize where I live?”

  Asher closes the curtains to make sure they provide enough privacy. He nods his head in approval and then opens them again.

  I tap my foot in annoyance as he walks over to the front door and fiddles with the lock. I let out a loud huff. He must hear it because he turns around and faces me. I make a face as to say, “Satisfied?”

  Asher walks toward me, his presence filling up the room, stopping on the opposite side of the small island of the kitchen. As he approaches, I can smell the leather of his jacket. Its not the same as salt and sea, but it’ll do.

  We stand in silence; I vow I will not be the first to break it. He came here. He has to be the one to say something.

  His chin tilts to the side as his ear leans in to hear the faint sound coming from my speaker. Before I can stop him, he reaches over and raises the volume and his brow rises in interest. The cello version of “Wonderwall” by Oasis is playing, confirmation for him that I have been listening in to his lessons.

  I fold my arms across my chest, my foot resumes tapping, an act he finds amusing as the corner of his mouth curls up ever so slightly and than vanishes instantly.

  “Who’s the guy?” He asks with a nod of his head toward the door. He’s referring to Mattie.

  “None of your business.”

  His square jaw protrudes with the clench of his jowls. I look away from him, gathering my bearings. I should let him think Mattie is someone to me. Make him suffer thinking I’m with someone else.

  Who am I kidding? He doesn’t care.

  I turn my head back to Asher, who is smoldering. It’s as if he thinks this is some kind of game.

  A game I have no intention of playing.

  “He’s my neighbor,” I say, clipping my words through my teeth. “And what does it matter to you? You already had me. Conquest accomplished. Wasn’t that the goal?” My throat burns as the words come out. I intended to say them to hurt him. Instead, they’re killing me.

  His eyes are ablaze with indignation. I don’t think this is what he came here for but this is certainly where it’s going. “What exactly do you think my goal was?”

  I bite back any emotion attempting to rise from me as I continue. I managed three weeks of decorum around him. I managed to be in the same building and not say a word when the hurt was sitting on my chest like a lead weight.

  Turns out I can’t fight it anymore.

  “Find a girl, trick her into pretending you’re some brooding boathand who needs saving, fuck her, and leave. Wasn’t that the goal . . . Alexander?”

  Asher pushes off the island and runs his hand along the back of his neck. He paces a few steps and then turns back to me. His chest rises and falls with deep, hard breaths.

  “I never once lied to you. I tell it like it is, I do what I want but I never manipulate the truth.” He moves toward me, severe and snappish. “Don’t act so innocent. You have no idea what I have been though. I had no idea what your intentions—”

  “My intentions?” I cut him off. This time, it’s my turn to push away from the island. “What exactly do you think I was doing in Italy? Tell me!” Outrage and resentment rise in my chest.

  Asher looks back at me, his breath heavy, his words controlled. “You knew exactly what you were doing.” His voice is filled with accusation but his eyes—his eyes are filled with something else.

  I turn away from him for fear if I look at him for one more second I’ll fall down the rabbit hole. I fought too hard to be brought back down. I rose from the bed. I lifted the fork to my mouth. I got on a plane and came here to make a new start for my new life.

  I am the diamond. I cannot be broken.

  “Why are you doing this?” I turn back to him, lifting my arms in exasperation. “You know everything about me. You see this.” I hold up my hand revealing the scar that brandishes my skin. “This is me. On January second, my boyfriend, who I thought I loved, broke up with me. He tore my heart apart. So my brother—my sweet, funny, wonderful brother—took me out. I asked him—no, I begged him to drive. I pleaded with him to take the pain away with the rush of an engine and that cost him his life. And this”—I hold up my hand higher, closer to his face—“this is all I have left!”

  I pull my arms away and clench the tarnished skin in my other hand. “But you know this. You know this because you looked me up. No one as untrusting as you would have gone near me without knowing everything. You know I lived to play the violin. You know what I was doing in Capri. And you know every single word I said to you on that island was true.”

  “Emma—”

  “Don’t.” I shake my head. “Don’t say anything except the one thing I need you to say.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Say it!”

  �
��Say what?”

  My heart squeezes tight as I march toward him. “That you were wrong! I want you to—”

  “I was wrong!” He speaks so loudly the room vibrates. “I was wrong. I knew I was wrong the next day.”

  I let out a loud breath, expelling the weight that was sitting in my ribs. My heart continues to race and now my mind is playing catch-up.

  Did he just—?

  Is he admitting that he—?

  “Then why didn’t you come back for me?”

  “I don’t know!” Asher spins around. His back widens as his arms rise and his hands run through his hair, pulling it at the ends. “I don’t know. I just . . . That night when security called, saying Adam Reingold was looking into me, researching me—I was furious. We pulled up anchor and got out of there. I wanted, needed to believe you were like everyone else.”

  “I don’t want your money if that’s what you’re accusing me of.” I practically spit the words at him. “I don’t want anything from you. I liked you when I thought you had nothing.”

  My words force him to turn around and face me. The look on his face is one of defeat and disappointment. “I know.”

  His sullen posture and red-rimmed eyes take the bitterness away. He’s hurting too. “I don’t understand. When you first saw me at the school you were so mad. You have been so mad.”

  With my words, Asher is quickly moving toward me. When he reaches me, he places both hands gently on my arms. “I am mad. Hell, I’m fucking furious. I don’t want you here. And, no, it’s not because I don’t want you. I have been fighting the urge to come find you. To go to you and apologize. I came close.”

  His forehead leans toward mine, his eyes full of something so sincere, I could swear I am standing on a stairwell in Capri. “But every time I thought about it, I couldn’t. I’m scared, Emma. I’m scared of what might happen if you turn out to be the woman I feared you were.”

  My eyes close and I try to process everything he’s saying. Asher wants me. He’s always wanted me. He knew he was wrong.