Before the rest of them could chime in, she raised her hand. “Thank you for that vote of confidence, Alexander, but I am not perfect. And while I love each of you, I do know my limitations.” She grew quiet for a moment, then said, “My George was a peace-loving man, but I remember one time, long ago, when we were dating. A man made a rude comment about me and George punched him in the nose.”
A chuckle slipped from her lips and her face eased into laugh lines that Rafe thought were beautiful, as she recalled, “I was mortified, but also knew that a good man won’t allow someone to bully others. So, Alexander, while I do not condone violence, I do appreciate you defending one of your friends.”
Turning her gaze to Rafe, she said, “But, son, I think that perhaps tomorrow morning, you and I should spend some time in the garden.”
He loved to work in the yard, so he said, “But that’s hardly punishment, Miss Ethel.”
“I didn’t say anything about punishment, dear boy. I just think you and I need some time to tend the plants.”
With that, she stood and kissed them goodnight before turning out the light. Scooting the younger ones back to bed, Rafe heard her soft footsteps descend the stairs. Lying in bed, he could not help but replay Dickie’s words over in his mind, fighting against their power. I’m not a beast. I’m not ugly. As he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of the beast in the castle, visited by beauty.
The sun beamed down on Rafe and Miss Ethel as they bent over their gardening tasks. The front flower beds had been weeded, bushes trimmed, and now they were in the backyard, checking on her small vegetable garden.
He loved the outdoor chores, one of the few activities that brought memories of his father back to the forefront of his mind. His father had owned a lawn care business and often took Rafe along on his many jobs. He used to watch his father blowing leaves, riding the mower, trimming low-hanging tree branches, weeding, and planting. His favorite was seeing the rose bushes in full bloom, which a few of his clients requested and that they had in their own garden as well.
“Are you thinking about your father?” Miss Ethel asked as though reading his mind—again.
Maybe Cael is right and she does have magical powers!
Grinning as he nodded, he replied, “Yes, ma’am. He didn’t plant any vegetables, but he loved to plant rose bushes. I remember he would plant them for my mom every year.”
“Your father was a wise man,” she said. “Many men just buy store-bought roses for a woman, when it is convenient for them. But the blooms soon die and the gesture can be forgotten. But your father planted the beautiful plants so your mother could enjoy the bounty all season, knowing they would come back again.”
He wiped his hands on his jeans as he listened to her.
“Of course, you know rose bushes are terrible when they are first planted. Do you remember?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “They were just sticks…ugly sticks with thorns.”
“Exactly! Just looking at the rose bush when it’s been pruned and recently planted, you would never know what beauty it will become.”
He knelt in the dirt, still listening as he helped her tie the tomato plants to the stakes. Finishing, he stood, facing her as she placed her hand on his shoulder.
“You do know, son, that we humans are just like that pruned rose bush.”
His brow creased in confusion, looking from the plants to her face. “Huh? I mean, how Miss Ethel?”
She met his polite correction with an indulgent smile. “We all look like pruned bushes at times. You’ve gained height, and your hands and feet have grown, but the rest of you still needs time to grow and catch up.”
He dropped his chin to his chest, heaving a great sigh.
“Look at me, son,” she said. When he sent his gaze back to her, she continued, “But remember, real beauty lies within…it comes from the care given to the thorny, pruned rose bush. You remember your father and mother. I’ve looked at their pictures and they were such a handsome couple.” Placing her hands on his shoulders, she peered deeply into his face. “And you, my dear Rafe, will become a handsome man. But that beauty on the outside, will mean nothing if you don’t have beauty on the inside as well. And thank goodness, you’re as good as they come.”
Smiling, she said, “I’ll go get us some lemonade and check on the other boys. You can come in when you’re ready.”
Nodding, he watched her walk up the back steps, leading into the kitchen. He turned, taking the twine and tools into the shed near the back gate. As he closed up, he detoured toward the front, going straight to the rose bushes. They were still sticks with thorns, but the buds were already starting to show. Grinning, he thought of the beautiful flowers that would burst forth soon. That’ll be me, someday. His heart lighter, he went inside to join the others.
2
“Arms down.”
He dropped his arms.
“Head up.”
He lifted his chin.
“Tilt your head to the left.”
He did that too.
Standing in the California heat, a swimsuit hanging low on his hips, his chiseled abs, muscular chest and arms on display, he flexed his legs, showcasing his massive thigh muscles. Adopting the carefree grin that had graced calendars, magazines, and billboards, he looked to the world as a man enjoying his time in the sun.
A woman, from off to the side, jumped in front of him as soon as the photographer lowered his camera, dabbing the sweat from his brow before spritzing his face and body with water from a spray bottle to simulate sweat. Fuckin’ hell, this is stupid. Gritting his teeth, Rafe Walker kept from biting her head off, knowing the assistant was simply following directions.
At six feet, four inches and close to two hundred pounds of solid muscle, he knew what he brought to the business. A body…that’s all…just a body.
The photo shoot continued for another three hours, moving from the sandy beach, to under palm trees, to the surf, first by himself, and then with two female models in bikinis that barely covered their stick-thin bodies. With zero percent body fat, the size and lift of their breasts in comparison pointed to augmentation. Preferring a more natural look on a woman, he inwardly grimaced at how cutthroat this industry was and wondered if the women were happy this way. Looking down into their faces as they pressed in tightly, too tightly to be honest, he knew they had nothing more on their minds other than how they looked in the shot, just the way he used to be.
As they draped themselves over him, taking direction from the photographer, he began praying for the last shot. His mind wandered to the phone conversation he had that morning. Getting up early, he had called Zander, hoping to get him before he went in to his job.
“I was afraid I was calling at a bad time,” he confessed, hearing a female voice in the background.
“Nope,” Zander replied. “Rosalie’s got a teaching job now, so she gets up early. I don’t have to climb outta bed at this hour, but I like being up when she’s up.”
A teasing comment danced on Rafe’s tongue, but he swallowed it, because Zander sounded happy…really happy. Not one to hide his thoughts, he said, “I’m glad for you, man. She’s a wonderful woman.”
“She makes me complete, that’s for sure,” Zander admitted, no hesitation in his voice. “So any particular reason you’re calling this morning?”
“I’m thinking about taking a break—”
“Thank God!”
“Seriously, Zan, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” he laughed, knowing his friend would always tell him the truth.
“Look, Rafe, you’ve said over and over that modeling isn’t your forever career. It’s just a stopgap between the Army and whatever else is coming. But I don’t think you’re gonna find your forever out there in California, so far from your roots.”
“Yeah, I know. I really called to say that I’m gonna make a trip home.”
“You’ve got your room here whenever you want it,” Zander reminded.
“Hell, you’ve go
t a home with Rosalie now. I’m not gonna crash that. I figure I’ll stay with Miss Ethel.”
“She’d love to have you. Any of us would. You just come home and don’t worry about where you’ll stay.”
“Rafe! Fucking focus!” the photographer shouted.
Jolted from his thoughts, he battled the desire to flip the pompous ass off, but just nodded instead. Following the directions, he was unable to keep his thoughts away from Zander and Rosalie. Zan is lucky…but then so is Rosalie. Envying their new relationship, he wondered if there was someone for him. Someone away from the spotlight. Someone who just wanted him for himself…and not Mr. July.
Another assistant rushed over, a makeup airbrush in her hand, and began drawing lines on his already-washboard abs, creating more definition. About to bark at her, he was startled when someone else, from behind, began mussing his hair, giving it a windblown look when the breeze was doing just that naturally. As long as he had been modeling, he never could get comfortable with someone’s hands constantly on him. Taking deep breaths, as Miss Ethel had taught as a way to manage frustration, he managed to not lash out at the assistants just doing their jobs. How the hell did this use to be a cool way to make a living?
After another hour, the shoot finally concluded. As the female models sauntered off, Rafe snatched the towel being handed to him by the assistant and wiped down, smearing the makeup off onto the towel.
Walking into the tent set up for them, he almost stumbled over a male model, whose pants were at his ankles, a woman’s head bobbing between his legs.
“Jesus, get the fuck out,” he roared, and watched as the overeager fan jumped up, her naked breasts bouncing as she grabbed her shirt and hurried from the tent. Shooting the model a glare, his phone vibrated before he had a chance to say any more. As the model jerked his pants up and hurried after the girl, Rafe looked down at the sender. Fuckin’ hell. Cherelle. He growled as he checked the message.
Hi baby. Miss you…Marty is working on something for us. Call me.
Sighing, he deleted the message. Cherelle Parkinson. A casual hookup that turned into a few hookups. Until she became possessive, clingy, and downright neurotic. It was six months ago, but at least once a month, she texted, trying to hook up again. Nope, not happening.
Pulling on his loose track pants, he heard his name called and, looking up, saw two other male models walking into the tent.
“You looked good today,” Todd said, a smile on his face that did not reach his eyes.
Grunting, his mind was already on the shower and dinner he was planning…alone in the efficiency, garage apartment he rented. He had made a few friends in California, but nothing like the ones back home. And Todd and Tommy did not fall into the friend category…more like suck-ups.
“You up for some partying?” Tommy asked, his wide, white-toothed grin shooting toward the females on the periphery of the shoot, eliciting giggles and shouts of phone numbers. “Looks like the pickings are good today.”
“Rafe! We love you!” screamed a few of the girls at the fence.
“Nah,” he replied, ignoring the women still calling his name, and snagged his keys from a small, padlocked locker. “I’m heading home.”
“Shit, man,” Tommy exclaimed. “If you go, the women will follow.”
“Too good for us?” Todd asked, his brow lowered.
Glaring, he stood to his full height, hands on his hip, and faced the two. “Seriously? What are we? Fifteen years old?” Seeing the blush rise on Tommy’s cheeks, Rafe said, “What the fuck do you care what I do?”
“Rafe!” Hearing the voice of his agent…former agent…he dropped his chin to his chest.
As Marty Robbins stepped into the tent, he threw a narrowed-eye look at the others. “Out.”
The models scurried out and Rafe could hear them approaching the young women hanging by the fence. He knew they would soon be taking a group back to one of their houses, drinks flowing and orgies in every room. God, had that been me? He knew the answer to his own question…well, not the orgies. Never got into public sex. But the girls had been easy when he first came to California. So had the parties. Before he had time to travel down that morose road into past thoughts, Marty stepped into his space.
Marty’s time in the salon showed, with his hair dyed a sandy-blond to cover the grey and his nails buffed to a sheen. His thin frame was covered in a silk suit and Rafe could not figure out how the man never seemed to sweat. A sharp agent, Rafe was, at one time, convinced he had his best interests at heart. It took a while, amidst the glitter of the business, to realize that he only had one interest—and that was himself.
Marty ingratiated himself to whoever was necessary to get a client, a contract, a negotiation, all with the intent of making more money. Pretending to be Rafe’s best friend only so far and, once his eyes were open, he realized how slick—or maybe slimy—Marty really was. Eyeing him cautiously, he waited to see what Marty was going to say, considering his contract with him ended today.
“That was a great shoot. I saw some of the preliminaries, Rafe. Looks good.” He snapped his fingers to the young assistant at his side, who began immediately tapping on a tablet. Marty looked down at it and began rattling off upcoming events. “I’ve lined up the next swimwear shoot, a tuxedo shoot is coming up, the ski equipment company wants to shoot next month in the mountains, and I’ve just landed you—”
“Told you I was taking some time off after today,” Rafe interrupted, pulling a t-shirt over his head, settling the soft material across his thick chest muscles.
Marty smiled benevolently, “Of course, of course. A few days off is good for anyone—”
“The summer,” Rafe interrupted again, bending to grab his worn backpack before standing again, facing the red-faced agent. “The whole summer.”
“But Rafe, I’ve just scored a shoot with you and Cherelle Parkinson…she made number forty-nine in People Magazine’s 50 Most Beautiful Woman of the Year, and she’s been interested in shooting with you.”
Rafe winced, realizing this was what she was texting him about. He met the model-turned-actress last year at one of the many parties he attended. Beautiful, for sure, but manipulative. Shaking his head ruefully, he had let her take control for a while, being the new man in town and star-struck. But her fake body and sloppy, drunk kisses had turned him off. And I’ve managed to avoid her for months and now Marty wants me to shoot with her…hell, no!
Heaving a sigh, he pinned Marty with his hard stare, wondering how the man was able to wear a suit in the California spring heat and still appear cool. “I’m going back to Virginia to connect with my family for a little while. I’ll let you know when I’m available again.”
A trickle of sweat beaded on Marty’s forehead as his face turned red. “You can’t do this. This’ll kill your career…a career that I’ve spent the past couple of years building for both of us. You take the summer, you’ll become a one-shot wonder. You’ll be replaced before you can blink.”
Without a backward glance, he walked out of the tent, Marty’s threats still bouncing off, and slid his sunglasses on his face, weaving past the cars in the parking lot toward his rental truck. Driving toward his small efficiency, thoughts of his upcoming trip buoyed his flagging spirits.
3
Grabbing his bags from the conveyor, Rafe walked toward the airport exit, his heart lighter now that he was back in familiar territory. No matter the years spent in California, it was the Virginia soil that gave him roots. Breathing easier, he felt the tension loosening from his shoulders.
As he walked toward the exit, a familiar sight brought a grin out on his face. “Cael…good to see you, man,” he greeted as he hugged his friend.
“Well, look who’s finally home,” Cael returned, back-slapping him. Reaching down to grab one of Rafe’s bags, he added, “Looks like you’re gonna stay for a while. Tired of all the adulation out in California?”
“You’ve got no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to being
back here,” he replied, following Cael out to his SUV.
The two men climbed inside and Cael easily pulled into traffic, heading toward a familiar destination.
“Everyone okay?”
Grinning, Cael nodded. “Zander’s itching to get married and, with Rosalie not having any family, I think they were just waiting for you.”
Rafe grinned, remembering Zander begging him to come home so they would all be together for his big day. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied honestly. “Talked to him the other day…swear it’s like talking to a new Zander. I think his grumpy ass just needed someone like Rosalie.”
They laughed, the Richmond skyline fading into the background as they headed into the outskirts.
“How’s your sister and her family?” As the words left his mouth, he could not help but notice the peaceful smile on Cael’s face. Out of all of Miss Ethel’s boys, Cael was the only one who had stayed connected with family after growing up in the foster system. He had a sister, now grown with a husband and daughter, welcoming Cael into their fold.
“Great, just great,” the reply came. Shaking his head, he added, “My niece is six now and a total princess. Dolls cover her room and she lives in a dream world of castles, princes on white horses, and I swear she dreams of unicorns.”
“You’re lucky, man.”
Cael nodded, his smile still on his face. “Don’t I know it.”
Turning down the familiar road, they passed the old homes. The trees were taller, the hedges fuller. A few homes had taken out the old gardens, planting just grass instead, drawing a frown from Rafe. As the house at the end of the street came into view, his heart leaped, seeing the well-tended flower gardens, neatly trimmed shrubs, and rose bushes beginning to climb their trellis’. Several cars and motorcycles lined the drive and street outside and he knew his welcoming party was about to begin. The thought struck him, once more, how this type of party was much more to his liking than the drunk-fest, hangers-on, parties back in California.
Rafe: Heroes at Heart Page 2
