Rapture

by Sonia Icilyn

  “Do you even have one?” Maxwell taunted, taking a firm hold of Avril’s champagne hand. “It’s cost me a small fortune for you and I shouldn’t have to beg like this to take you back.”

  The slap was neat, quick and abrupt. If there was one thing Avril was certain of, it was knowing she was never going back. “I suggest you pay your wager and be more prudent about who you gamble with in the future,” she said and pulled her champagne hand away. But the flute glass she was holding fell to the floor. “Now look what you’ve made me do.” Her voice was like acid.

  “Let me get that,” Dale Lambert announced, picking the unbroken glass from the carpeted floor. “Another glass?” he offered immediately.

  “No.” Avril declined on a sharp intake of breath when she saw who was standing beside her. She turned, glanced around the lobby and half a dozen pair of eyes quickly found someone else more interesting to look at.

  “Who’s this?” Maxwell asked, dipping his brows as he rubbed his left cheek.

  “None of your business,” Avril said cuttingly.

  But Dale squared up to Maxwell, realizing that gossip around them was rife. “The name’s Dale Lambert,” he introduced, instantly placing a confident arm around Avril’s waist. “I’m her new boyfriend.”

  Avril blinked.

  “Boyfriend!” Maxwell repeated harshly. He leered at Avril. “Woman, you sure didn’t waste any time.”

  “I’m getting on with my life,” she said, conspiring quickly, “and I suggest you move on with yours.”

  Maxwell threw a compromising gaze at them both, then did the honorable thing and gallantly walked away. The moment he left, Avril threw her attention on Dale. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, totally perplexed.

  “I’m doing you a favor,” Dale told her.

  “By telling Maxwell that I’m your girlfriend,” Avril objected.

  “It’s better than watching you make an absolute fool of yourself,” Dale admonished.

  Avril didn’t like being called a fool, but inwardly, she felt like one. “What’s Meyrick going to think when he hears about you?” she bemoaned, irked by the spoiling of her unrelenting plan.

  “It’s very likely that his fiancée has already told him,” Dale broached in return. “Or have you forgotten that she’s a friend of Elyse’s and saw us together?”

  Avril winced. There it was again, the reminder of his kisses which had devastated her senses. “This ruins everything.”

  “It puts an end to everything,” Dale amended. “Let it go.”

  If only it was that easy. It sounded so easy. “That man…played me like a puppet on a string,” she said with scorn.

  “And now that he sees you with me,” Dale reasoned softly, “he’s burning.”

  Avril conceded. That was what she wanted after all, to see Maxwell sweltering with forbearance. As for Meyrick, mending their barriers could wait until another day. “I hope he withers to ashes.”

  Dale chuckled. “You see,” he beckoned the hotel waiter. “You’re feeling better already.”

  Avril forced a smile as Dale placed her empty flute on the silver platter and plucked another one. As he handed it over, Avril caught Maxwell’s unforgiving expression across the lobby where he was standing with Georgie and his mother. “Look at them, cursing my name,” she spat out.

  Though the gravelly Florida accent sounded impatient, there was a touch of concern in it, too. “Avril,” Dale restrained softly. “We’re going into dinner now.” He moved a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Promise me you’ll behave.”

  Avril’s well-defined brows rose when a familiar shudder rocked her. “Behave?”

  “Yes.” Dale deliberately kissed the tip of her nose for everyone to see. “You’re presenting my award as the high spot of the evening, remember? I don’t want it shadowed with any outlandish shows of emotions that will only embarrass you in the morning as the reigning Miss African-Caribbean.”

  He was right. This night was about the amateur tennis players hoping to make the professional court. She had a part to play in presenting three of the awards for the evening. It would hardly do if she were to end the night making a spectacle of herself.

  Avril’s voice erupted with an emotion she did not understand. “I’ll behave,” she agreed, gazing at him beseechingly.

  The point of contact with her nose tingled, spreading a wave of heated nausea through her. Avril recalled the time Dale had plied her with kisses and closed her eyes, afraid he’d try it again, publicly.

  “Good,” Dale nodded, pulling back, afraid he’d take her lips. “Go and find your table number and I’ll meet you at the end of the evening in the lobby.”

  Avril opened her eyes, slightly disorientated. But she accepted Dale’s suggestion and deliberately ignored the Armstrongs by walking in line into the hotel’s large banqueting suite. At least one hundred white clothed tables met her inquiring gaze. Dale threw a reassuring smile across at her before he ventured to seat himself at his table, but Avril could not find hers.

  She searched in vain for Reuben Meyer, but his tall frame eluded her. It occurred to her that his table was situated closer to the stage to enable her to mount the platform and present each award. So she headed in that direction.

  Then she saw Meyrick. He had to pass her to reach the Armstrong table. As his arm brushed hers, he stopped. His shoulders flexed beneath his white ruffled shirt. She saw it easily because Meyrick Armstrong was wearing no jacket. There was no dickie-bow tie either, just a black silk knot neatly tied in place around his neck.

  Avril felt uncomfortable around him, yet at the same time, she yearned for his forgiveness and to be his friend again. Even the tiniest overture would do.

  “Rick, I—”

  “Avril, I—”

  They both stopped.

  “You first,” Avril said. She nervously brushed aside a single strand of hair from her eyes.

  “No, you,” Rick insisted. There was a hint of embarrassment in the hardening of his strong features and the barest upward quirk at the edges of his well defined lips while he held his composure.

  Avril waded in on second-strike capability mode. “Maxwell made my person the subject of a bet,” she revealed shamelessly. “That’s why he wanted me to marry him. I found out after I learned that he’s another woman’s baby-daddy. He wanted to shirk his responsibilities and I couldn’t get married knowing that.”

  There. She’d done it. She had faced another fear knowing Meyrick’s sensibilities would force him to hate what Maxwell had done. It was the sort of thing that would even shift his allegiance to her. Though his charcoal-brown eyes were expressionless, there was no doubt from the set of his lips that he was displeased with what he had heard. But Avril was not prepared for his response.

  “Was that reason enough for you to pick up another man so quickly?” Meyrick questioned suddenly.

  Avril gasped. “I don’t understand?”

  “My family have been the talk of this room since you walked in here,” Meyrick disclosed quietly. “My parents are beside themselves at the little scene you pulled in the lobby with Maxwell. For their sake, the only performance I want you to do tonight is the awards presentation.”

  Avril had an urge to cry, but she wouldn’t. She absolutely wouldn’t. “Is this your idea of civility?” she swallowed, recovering quickly at being seen with Dale Lambert.

  He took to insulting her intelligence. “We’re both grown people and—”

  “Only one of us knows how to embrace adulthood,” Avril interrupted, loathing him.

  “I like you,” Meyrick temporized, “but—”

  “You’ll do anything to support your brother, even though he’s an odious, abominable rat.” And to think she’d imagined this man to be a friend, someone worthy of pursuing. Someone she’d even stupidly dreamed of being supportive against Maxwell’s ill doings.

  “Listen,” he began calmly. “I don’t want us to fall out.”


  “The very least I expected from you was recognition of your brother’s abhorrent behavior,” Avril hit back. “Instead, you seem to be endorsing it.”

  “I’m not,” Meyrick insisted, sorrowful. “It’s just that—”

  “He’s given your mother a grandson and you a nephew, and now you’re all closing ranks,” she finished, cutting in. “I don’t need this.” She did not deign to say anything further. Why even bother. She pushed him aside. “Let me pass.”

  He did not detain her. Rick was instantly on his way, seating himself at his family’s table. Avril didn’t speculate why he had not chosen to be with Delphine. Perhaps she had chosen to remain with Elyse on Dale Lambert’s table. With little time to ponder the semantics, she moved on. Her job now was to find Reuben Meyer.

  And there he was, sitting at the Cultural Development Committee’s table in front of her.

  “Avril!” He beckoned her over. “C’mon, sit down.”

  As she did so, her gaze flickered from the table card bearing her name in bold print, toward Dale Lambert. He was looking right at her across the room. His smile widened. His watchfulness brought a curling smile to her face. Avril had nearly forgotten what it was to smile. Since arriving at the Victoria Park Plaza Hotel, she had been faced with nothing but trouble.

  Now, she basked in Dale Lambert’s flirtatiousness and appreciated the deep emotions that always seemed rampant in his presence. He had helped her tonight, without hesitation. Dale’s only concern was that she had the necessary recourse to survive the evening. Of course that now meant she was officially his girlfriend. Somehow, it didn’t feel too bad.

  And then her gaze strayed toward Maxwell and Meyrick. Damn them both! They were too busy acting like strutting roosters to care about her feelings. Armstrong senior and his wife were peering at her. Analyzing. Scrutinizing. Judgmental. Lynfa scrunched her mouth in misery while Georgie carefully avoided eye contact.

  A snort escaped Avril’s throat. “Wasn’t it Malcolm X who said that the chickens have come home to roost?”

  Reuben faced her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing,” Avril dismissed.

  She watched six people take their seats at her table and cast her gaze wayward. There he was, Dale Lambert, smiling at her again. Unable to quell the urge, Avril held his gaze.

  The mien that crossed his face was one of longing and thirsty desire. Avril felt her body ache at his hankering expression. A delicious rush of pleasure caused her to shudder. The eloquent stare shouted at her to forget this nonsense and become his. It was ridiculous that she should feel so magnetized by this man, especially under such circumstances. But then she thought about the kisses that had seared themselves into her senses….

  “I want you at my office on Monday,” Reuben drawled, dismantling her thoughts in one fell swoop. “I’ve found a job for you.”

  Avril tore her gaze from Dale and blinked. “You have?” This was the direction and focus she needed. It was timely.

  The lights dimmed and the host for the event took the stage. Reuben was immediately robbed of time to explain. He leaned forward instead and whispered, “Nine o’clock and don’t be late.”

  The next three hours flew by in a whirl of activity. There was the meal of Cyprus halloumi and aubergine stacks, cod with crispy potatoes and mustard lentils, and dessert of coconut and Jamaican rum ice cream sprinkled with mint. After red wine, chatter and a video presentation chronicling the rise and rise of the African-Caribbean Amateur Tennis School, the main event began.

  Reuben Meyer was called to the platform to make his opening speech where he talked endlessly about harnessing raw talent within the community. Then he thanked the sponsors for their generous support. The contenders were announced by a budding celebrity from a hospital soap drama televised on the BBC and then Avril heard her name announced to present the awards.

  Her heart thudded with nerves as she rose from her seat to semi-applause from the seated audience. Anguish rounded her shoulders as Avril became aware of the murmurs and mumbling that followed her like a shadow, too. She kept her head high as she took the stage, but inwardly, she was shuddering with embarrassment.

  Her sham of a wedding seeped into her mind like an unwelcome stench. The Armstrongs were obviously seated among faithful supporters who were displaying their unhappiness at her betrayal to the family. But Avril kept her gaze fixed, reminding herself that she had made a promise to Dale Lambert to behave.

  With no speech prepared, she bravely improvised. Two Wimbledon T-shirts and a bronze award were presented to the third prize winner. Two Wilson rackets and a silver award to the runner-up. Finally, Dale’s sponsorship of the first prize, two tickets to the WTA Rogers Cup in Montreal, Canada with a gold award were given to the lucky winner.

  When the cheers and clapping simmered, Avril returned to her seat. She may’ve been nervous standing in front of the stage podium, but the full exposure of facing the Armstrong family had left her weakened and aching to leave.

  Fifteen minutes later, a closing song by Lemar and a prayer from the reverend of a leading community church, wrapped up the evening. The lights went up and Avril was out of her chair.

  Her stiletto heels quickly took her along a different return path from the banqueting suite. She spotted Maxwell and Reuben sharing a moment in a corridor that led toward the kitchen and realized she was, in fact, coming up almost directly behind them. Avril stopped short, watching them both. They were within earshot and unaware of her presence. Motionless, she contemplated how best to sidle out of their way.

  “One day, when you least expect me,” Maxwell threatened, sending Reuben a filthy look, “I’ll be there,” she overheard.

  Reuben laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  Avril’s body shook. She turned away like someone had rammed her in the gut and walked in the opposite direction, wincing at the affliction. The evening ending successfully for three amateur tennis players was, technically, qualifying as a nightmare with a series of ominous defeats for her.

  Nonetheless, if she were to salvage any respect, she’d have to wear a mask of steel, displaying nothing but grace and dignity. That meant leaving the hotel as an undefeated woman who had won the game of love by keeping to the rules. The truth.

  Fueled with this indignation, Avril kept her head high and then lowered her eyes when she saw Lynfa Armstrong walking her way. She swallowed, almost breathless. As her heart raced, her gaze rose. Lynfa was wearing a classicly cut cocktail dress in a paisley of crimson pink with low heeled shoes of the same color.

  Avril knew they were custom-made. As was the ostentatious dripping of ivory-colored pearls, cultivated from an extensive hoard that was worth a mint and paid for by her hard-working husband. The makeup was flawless and she was wearing her best wig.

  Avril skewered her with a look of disdain and tried to side-step out of her way. But Lynfa blocked her and Avril began to relish a professional finish. A great finale deserving of a private applause. Then she could walk out of their lives forever. The Armstrongs need never talk to her again.

  Lynfa opened the match. “I can’t believe you’re still here,” she said.

  “I’m not like your son,” Avril tossed back, “weaseling out of situations he can’t handle. I have every right to be here tonight because I have ambitions for myself.”

  “I hope none of them include my son,” Lynfa remarked.

  “I could never live comfortably ever after with a man whose mother despises me,” Avril spat out, ignoring the wanton glares. “It isn’t my fault that Maxwell refuses to leave me alone.”

  “Then make him,” Lynfa insisted harshly. “Say something…anything that will make him hate you.”

  Avril was horrified. With a sigh of irritation, she side-stepped Lynfa again, trying to get around her, but as old as she was, Lynfa had the agility of a cat and moved to block her once more. “I left your son at the altar,” she bleated, choking off her dismay. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “I wish
it was,” Lynfa declared, unabashed.

  “What!” Avril glared. She hadn’t intended to raise her voice, but Lynfa’s scornful tone infuriated her. “The only person who is going to get hurt is your wonderful, precious son. Is that really what you want for him, to hate people?”

  “What I want is for Maxwell to recognize that he has a son,” Lynfa cried out. “I understand why you couldn’t marry him. I’m a woman, too. You woke him up, even while you were suffering a broken heart. When you came to Greencorn, I didn’t know. I’m sorry about the money. About everything.”

  Avril felt an odd flooding of relief. This was not like Lynfa Armstrong, making an outward dramatic demonstration of good faith. “I’m sorry, too,” she answered with honesty.

  Game set. It was to be her finest closing match, squaring her shoulders to an older, meddling opponent. There was only one mistake. As her adversary walked away, Avril didn’t have the courage to tell Lynfa Armstrong that her heart was perfectly intact. There had been no broken pieces. Just a small chip off her pride.

  When she finally arrived in the lobby, Dale was there to meet her. He’d been waiting impatiently for twenty-two minutes, having lost Avril in the shuffle when throngs of people began to leave their seats. His last glimpse of her was when she’d mistakenly taken the hotel’s serving staff’s route toward the kitchen.

  He glanced at his watch. “You sure took your time to get here,” he breathed on a chuckle. “I saw you head the wrong way.”

  “I got lost,” Avril admitted, omitting the finer details. She didn’t know how simple things would be with Dale Lambert now that he’d witnessed some of her low moments during the evening. And after what Antonio had concluded, that he would definitely pass on her, she was uncertain how they would move on, especially as she was officially announced as his girlfriend.

  “Do you have a ride home?” he asked.

  “No,” Avril returned. “Are you offering?”

  “Sure.” His smiled brightened. “My chariot awaits you.”

  Could it be as simple as that, she wondered?