The Connection (The Claudia Belle Series Book 3)

by C. S Luis

  “I’m on it Michael!” I called back and swung open the door to find both Mr. Vasquez and Mr. Claypool smiling warmly in greeting. Mr. Vasquez hugged me and so did Mr. Claypool. It wasn’t until they moved aside that I noticed the blonde woman behind them step forward.

  “Hello, you must be Claudia Belle, Michael’s ward.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “I’m Karen, Karen Stephens. But you can call me Ms. Stephens,” she firmly said, walking ahead of Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez; they didn’t say anything, watching her step forward without an invitation.

  “Cute,” she said looking around. “This is a nice little house,” she said with a tone of disgust. She wore a red bright dress, and she had bleached-blonde hair. Dr. Black liked blondes? I guess all guys did. I led Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez in through the foyer and closing the door behind us.

  “So, where is the chef?” Mr. Claypool asked me with a smirk on his face.

  “He’s getting ready,” I politely said, disappointed with the fact that Karen or Ms. Stephens was wearing my color of choice. I grabbed my dress, putting it behind my back before I took a step back up the steps.

  “Would you guys like anything to drink?” I asked.

  Ms. Stephens spun around at once when I said that. “Sure, I’ll take a cocktail,” she rudely said without giving me the slightest look.

  “We have wine and beer,” I politely offered, and she frowned.

  “What kind of wine? I only drink white wine,” she spit back disgusted.

  “We only have red.” She made a face, but then I recalled a bottle Michael had in the pantry. “I think Michael might have a bottle left of white.”

  She darted her eyes back at me. “Well, will you be a good girl and see? I just can’t drink red. I hope it’s good,” she again said, regarding Michael’s white wine. She dug through her little red purse, grabbing a mirror and checking her lipstick.

  She had the reddest lips and whitest skin. I was a bit jealous. She was beautiful, and I could see why Dr. Black would want to be with her. They would be perfect together. She was lovely and looked like a sheer angel; although, her attitude could use some adjustment.

  I hurried into the kitchen, making faces and sticking my tongue out. Yes, I was mocking her. I staggered to the pantry and swung open the door and looked for the bottle and found it in the far back of the pantry. I pulled it out and set it on the counter. As I did, I could hear Michael join our three guests near the entrance; they were talking and laughing, and I heard Ms. Stephens’s laugher.

  God, she sounded like a banshee when she laughed. Soon their voices died down, and I heard Mr. Vasquez and Mr. Claypool retire to the living room. Michael entered with Ms. Stephens, and she looked over at me, looking for her drink. She noticed the red dress in my hands, and narrowing her eyes over at me, she said, “Well, aren’t you lucky you didn’t wear that? That would have been embarrassing for you.”

  “Ms. Stephens, you wanted white wine correct?” Michael asked as he saw me and nearly snatched the bottle from my hand. God, what made men into such jerks in front of a beautiful woman?

  “Claudia, can you make yourself useful and get Mr. Vasquez and Mr. Claypool a beer each? Please,” Michael ordered while smiling at Ms. Stephens; he then reached into the drawer and pulled out the corkscrew and proceeded to open the bottle.

  I angrily walked out after grabbing two Budweisers out from the refrigerator. Both Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez didn’t even notice me as I set the beers in front of them on coasters; they were busy watching the game between the Rockets and Lakers. I made a comment, but then that was ignored.

  Furiously, I walked out into the foyer, and that’s when I noticed Dr. Black coming up the path of the house to the entrance. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of daisies in the other. Daisies, I thought. Did Ms. Stephens like daisies? Somehow I doubted it.

  God, he looked so handsome; the butterflies in my stomach swirled, making me nervous as he neared. He brought me daisies? They were for me. I smiled at the thought. I realized as he was walking up the steps, and I wasn’t even ready.

  At once I rushed up the stairs and ran into my room, closing the door behind me. I tossed the red dress on my bed and hurried into the closet, looking for the only other dress I owned. He’d brought me flowers!

  Oh, get over yourself, I thought.

  But they can’t be for Ms. Stephens, can they? What would Daddy think? He wouldn’t like it. I thought about a past occurrence.

  “Claudia, your father is just worried about you sweetheart,” I recalled my mom saying.

  “It was just Trent, mom. He’s a friend,” I said as mom helped me clean the makeup off of my face. She handed me a tissue. We had just returned from the fundraiser Dad’s client had held. He was an old man in his nineties, and I had met him only a few times. And he had always frightened me because he was always so interested in me.

  “I know sweetie, but you know by now how jealous your dad is. You’re his baby.”

  “Mom, I’m not a baby anymore. I’m eighteen!”

  “Claudia.” I turned. My Dad was standing by the door. Mom got up and stepped over to his side; she looked up at him, and he nodded at her, and she left without saying anything else.

  Dad came to sit beside me on the bed.

  “Why are we moving away?” I demanded.

  “It’s work-related sweetheart,” Dad said. I looked over at him. I was aware of the real truth, and he knew that.

  “That’s not true, is it?” I said.

  “Don’t,” he very quickly answered. His voice was firm, yet gentle. He was good at what he did because he could read minds like me. And because of it he had become a wealthy man and made our family very powerful.

  “But I like Trent, Daddy,” I said, hoping that he realized it was my choice.

  “No,” he firmly said, nearly yelling. “I’m not giving my only daughter to that family,” he very sternly said. His voice softened. “You don’t know them like I do. You have the gift, but you don’t see the entire picture.”

  But I didn’t understand, and he knew it and smiled. He looked at me, lifted my chin, and looked into my eyes. “You deserve more…far more than this, and I want you to have that. That’s why we are leaving.”

  I snapped back into the present, looking into the closet for the maroon dress. It was strange to think I could have been married to Trent Valentine III. My life would have taken a completely different path.

  I looked at the dress in the mirror. It looked wonderful. I had worn it only once in the past. The boots were an added combination, not too shabby, and it was all I had except for those black ugly shoes I refused to wear again because they were five-inch heels. I hadn’t even worn them for Trent, so I sure wasn’t going to wear them for dinner.

  “You look lovely Claudia,” Trent had said. He was older, I think thirty-two.

  I’d smiled nervously as he motioned for me to follow him. He was so handsome, but his smile sometimes scared me. I couldn’t often tell if he was smiling or merely mocking me. We walked out onto the terrace; it was a quiet evening. My parents were socializing, my father busy with business matters. Trent’s family was very powerful, and my father handled most of their assets.

  “Claudia,” Trent softly said as we stood looking at the moonlight above us. We were alone, and his security had been informed to keep anyone else from coming out onto the balcony.

  I turned. I had a hard time looking up at him; he made me tremble, and my lips quivered when he looked at me with those large hazel eyes.

  “Yes, Trent.”

  I was wearing the dress, the maroon dress he had sent me to wear. Trent liked dark red and liked it on me. I carried my shoes in my hands; my feet ached, but I tried my best to stand on them now in front of Trent. Trent knew what I could do, but he had a device his father and his The Company had developed to keep me from reading them. It had been common knowledge.

  “I want to ask you something,” he softly said, and he put his hand into his poc
ket and took out a black velvet case.

  “What is it Trent?” I asked. My hands were shaking; mom said I should be polite and whatever Trent asked I should answer like she had instructed me.

  He opened the case, and inside was a large diamond ring bigger than my finger. Mom said he was going to give me something very important. Trent got on one knee before me and lifted the ring. Somehow I knew this was something he would never do; yet he was doing it for me. I could see it in his eyes.

  “Will you marry me?” He asked, but why was he asking me? Wasn’t I already committed to him? Hadn’t that already been the plan?

  Say yes, mom had said.

  “Say yes,” Trent demanded as I stared at the large ring.

  I opened my mouth to speak…

  “No!” Father yelled and raced past the security and onto the balcony; he grabbed my hand. Trent came forward, and his security team came to assist, but he waved them back, allowing Daddy to take me with him.

  “You’re making a big mistake, Nicholas,” Trent said.

  But Daddy simply pulled me away from Trent, and I lost sight of them as we hurried away from Trent and his security team. Before my parents’ deaths I saw Trent a few times. He would come to our house and talk business. He wanted to see me, but Daddy wouldn’t allow it. Daddy wouldn’t even allow me out of my room; he wouldn’t allow Trent to even to see me. I heard them arguing downstairs, but it was only Daddy’s voice I ever heard. Trent never raised his voice.

  I blinked. I had no shoes to match the dress, so I grabbed my Doc Martens. It would have to be good enough. I cleaned up in the bathroom, brushing my hair and washing my face, and finally I was ready. I often wondered about Trent but not as much as I thought I would. I only now thought about the daises in Dr. Black’s hands, knowing they were for me. God, he was so sweet to think of me.

  I slowly opened the door, remembering the very night daddy had given me the ticket. I was going to fly to Houston alone and meet them there. And when they didn’t come…

  I lowered my head and came out into the hall. I could hear voices in the living room. Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez were talking to Dr. Black, and I could hear him as I came down the stairs. In the background I could hear Ms. Stephens laughing with Michael and discussing wine and whatever else adults like Ms. Stephens like to discuss.

  God, she had Michael under her spell. Had Trent seemed that way with me? I always wondered why he wanted to marry me. I knew it had been arranged; Daddy didn’t have to tell me. I could see it in his eyes, but he regretted it. I could sense that too. God, I hated having the ability of knowing things I didn’t want to know.

  I came down the last step as I heard Mr. Vasquez offer, “So, would you like to join us? I was just about to head into the kitchen for another drink. You want us to get you a beer?”

  Then I heard Dr. Black respond, “No, I’m fine. I don’t drink beer.”

  I smiled, knowing he didn’t drink beer already.

  “No, of course you don’t, sir,” Mr. Claypool responded.

  “I’m just not a beer drinker, gentlemen,” Dr. Black politely again said. God, he was such a gentleman. I stepped out and came from behind him. None of the men saw me; Dr. Black had his back to me. I could see he was nicely dressed in a dark suit and slacks. He was always nicely dressed. I had never seen him in a causal shirt or jeans. I was starting to think it wasn’t his thing to be underdressed. He was such a good dresser, especially in comparison to Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez; they both looked sloppy. But they were part of Milton, and I never believed Dr. Black really was.

  “Dr. Black only drinks wine, red wine,” I announced very simply. Dr. Black turned, and I could see his shirt was the same color as my dress. We matched. I blushed. People would think we were on a date or something. Jeez, did I just think that?

  I came forward into the living room. Dr. Black was smiling widely at me. I loved his smile; although, I’ll admit that it had surprised me the first time he had smiled at me. But now I couldn’t get enough. Sometimes it seemed like his smile was for just me. It was a silly thought, but I wanted to believe that it was true.

  “Claudia, you look beautiful,” Mr. Vasquez kindly and suddenly said. Why did I sense he had taken the words right out of Dr. Black’s mouth? I could see Dr. Black’s lips parting just as Mr. Vasquez spoke.

  Mr. Claypool came forward and said, “Now I feel out of place. If I knew we were going to get all dressed up I would have just come straight here wearing my school slacks and dress shirt.”

  Not that it would have made a big difference. Mr. Claypool’s school attire wasn’t much better than what he was wearing to dinner.

  I smiled, feeling my face burning; I had never had so many eyes on me before, including Dr. Black’s; he was still gazing at me.

  Don’t freak out, I told myself. Remember he’s never seen you in a dress. I’m sure he was only being a gentleman.

  “I just felt like getting dressed up for dinner,” I said in regards to Mr. Claypool’s words. I looked up at Dr. Black, and he again grinned widely. Perhaps I had dressed up for a certain person.

  “You look very beautiful Miss Belle,” he said to me.

  I lowered my head, repeatedly saying to myself: Don’t freak out! Don’t freak out! He’s only being polite. He’s only offering you a compliment.

  Then I whispered, “Thank you Dr. Black.” And I blinked up at him. “You look beautiful too, Dr. Black,” I offered, and then realizing what I had said, I corrected myself, “I mean handsome.” I blushed.

  “Thank you, Miss Belle. I think we both had the same color in mind, wouldn’t you agree?” He asked, referring to the maroon color we were both wearing. I grinned and of course blushed. My heart was beating rapidly. I could hear it, and I feared he would make me run off. God, why was I nervous? Maybe because I couldn’t stop thinking about how Michael had embarrassed me the last time I was in front of him. Then I realized how much I wanted him to be my friend, and more than anything, I wanted him to like me. I didn’t know why, but it was a connection I was feeling.

  “Dr. Black, so we meant to ask, should we come in tomorrow? I know some of the teachers aren’t planning to,” Mr. Claypool began to say, interrupting our moment. Dr. Black looked uninterested in discussing anything in reference to school.

  “Can we discuss it later Mr. Claypool?” He simply asked, ignoring poor Mr. Claypool.

  I took a step closer towards Dr. Black. “You didn’t forget the wine, did you?” I asked him. He blinked; he was quiet, simply gazing back at me as if I were the center of all of his attention, and then he exhaled slowly.

  He always paid attention to me, and he seemed to shun everyone else. When I came into the room I sensed that nothing else mattered to him, but why couldn’t I read him? Why couldn’t I just once see what he thought of me? I was curious to know what his thoughts said. Did he think of me? Did he like me? Did he find me childish?

  I doubted it because of the way his eyes looked at me. He cared far more than he should I suspected, and I wondered why.

  Mr. Claypool seemed to grow silent, and he and Mr. Vasquez seemed to return to watching the game. It was just the two of us now, standing and sharing a moment. I liked it best that way.

  “Because it’s alright if you did,” I again said. Dr. Black blinked curiously at me, slightly curving his slim lips. His hair was pushed back; I liked the way it was cut short on the sides and a bit longer at the top. He had slightly tanned skin with just a kiss of sun. He wasn’t pale like Mr. Claypool and Michael. He was clean-shaven, but a bit of stubble did define his lower jaw and upper lip. It made him look distinguished, and it also defined his cheekbones and manly jaw. And those eyes, his piercing, green bright eyes, sparkled back at me. It was all enough to make me blush and want to flee and hide from his presence.

  No wonder Ms. Stephens liked him, no wonder everyone else sought his attention. And yet he wanted to be my friend, but Michael’s words resurfaced in my mind: “Claudia, I don’t want you to think that
just because Dr. Black is dating or interested in Ms. Stephens that he’s no longer your friend.”

  Was he right? Was it bothering me? And why? Were all women like this? Did we all want to be sought out by men? Because if so, I was guilty of it. I was just like the rest of the women in the world. Somewhere it was encoded in my DNA to want to be sought out. I guess I was no different than anyone else.

  “I had Michael pick up your favorite wine just in case,” I nervously said, standing before him and lowering my eyes. I was guilty perhaps of it, of wanting his approval. But why? “It’s Concannon right?” I continued. “It’s your favorite. There were a few kinds, so he just grabbed the Crimson & Clover.”

  His lips curved, and the big grin returned. “That’s one of my favorites,” he said, looking bashful.

  Suddenly another voice appeared from behind us: “I opened the white wine instead; I hope you don’t mind John.”

  Ms. Stephens walked into the living room. She handed Dr. Black a glass of wine, and she drank from out of her cup. Did she expect Dr. Black to drink that? He only likes red, I wanted to tell her, but, of course, I didn’t. I just stared back at her, wanting to turn over the sofa she was sitting on.

  Stop, Claudia. Control yourself.

  I needed to be in control of my anger.

  “I’m not much for red wines,” she said. “Michael’s opened up a nice white wine. Try it; you’ll like it,” she said to Dr. Black, and he stared at the glass as if it were a foreign thing to him.

  Why had I agreed to invite this woman? Did Dr. Black really like blondes? Ms. Stephens ignored me and just walked past me; she probably just thought of me as a child.

  She pulled Dr. Black away with her, putting her glass of zinfandel down on the coffee table next to the couch. I turned to leave, but Dr. Black stopped suddenly before Ms. Stephens could drop herself onto the couch.

  I waited like an eager fool for him to invite me back. He would put Ms. Stephens in her place, but I couldn’t compete with her; she was gorgeous. And they were perfect for each other. I was just the little dark girl seeking the attention of others. She looked like a movie star: beautiful, taller, and mysterious.