by Shayne Ford
“I’m not a bum.”
Her eyes blaze.
“Oh, no? Then what is it? People your age think about college or working or starting a business. You’ll live off mom and dad while wasting your time in Europe with some stupid lame ass project. No one in their right mind takes a sabbatical to write a damn book. Not now, anyway. Have you checked the Internet lately? Everybody and their sister writes a book. There are tons of them. Way more interesting than yours. At least people try to make money with it. Not you, though. No, no... And you know why? Because you have no idea what real life means, and how hard it is. You’ve never had a job in your life. You don’t even know how a bill looks like, let alone pay one. You’re nothing but a spoiled little girl. Their fucking precious daughter.”
She huffs and rolls her eyes in disgust.
“Look who’s fucking talking. As if you have it so hard. First off, you can open a designer shop out of your closet. You want to talk about money? Let’s talk about money. You spend every single dime you have on stupid shit. Shoes, purses, jewelry, dresses. Why the hell you need so much? Isn’t the whole purpose of buying this shit and wearing it to take it off. You wanna talk about jobs? You’ve never had a job in your life either, so why do you keep reminding me. All you did this summer was to open your legs to whoever had his cock hard.”
She clenches her teeth, and I can almost hear them gritting.
“Most of my clothing was bought with my money...”
“What money? Doing what? Sucking dick?”
Her lips curl into a vitriolic smile.
“I think you’re jealous,” she says.
“Why would I be? What’s so fucking hard about spreading your legs? Anyone can do it.”
A sly smile stretches across her lips.
“Can you?”
I tangle my arms across my chest, and press my lips together, suddenly quiet.
Slowly, she starts to shake her head, revelation washing her face.
“Oh, my God!” she says, stretching a knowing smile. “My poor, baby sister. That’s why you’re so frustrated,” she says and clicks her tongue. “ He doesn’t care to touch you...” she mutters, amused, and my blood drains from my face.
Her laughter feels like pebbles in my ears.
Eventually, she quiets down, purses her lips, and runs her eyes down on me.
“Of course. How come it didn’t cross my mind? Your little virginal gift means nothing to him. That’s why you’re huffing and puffing.”
“You don’t know that,” I blurt out.
Glowing satisfaction sets on her face.
“Finally, you admit it,” she says.
“Admit what?”
“That you’re infatuated with him. That you’d love him to be your first man. I bet you made it clear to him, and all you got back was a big fat ‘NO’. I can only imagine your frustration...” Her chest rocks with laughter again, grating my nerves, more so since her words bear truth. “All this time, you’ve pushed back anyone remotely interested in you, resenting the idea that some simpleton would make a woman out of you, and now that you’re ready to give it away, the man you chose couldn’t care less. See that’s the problem with pussy. It has a shelf life, an expiration date,” she says, chuckling, entertained. “I bet yours is stale already. I’m not surprised he doesn’t want it. Who wants the turmoil that comes with that?” Her eyes stay on me as I wrestle with anger and frustration. “All this time you thought you’re special and so much better than me, only to find out that any skirt from Red’s can ride his cock but not you. See, pumpkin, life is so much different than the crap you imagined...”
“As if you’re some sort of expert.”
“I know more than you do, sweetheart, and I think I know why he pulled away from you. He would’ve fucked you easily, despite your lack of experience, but the thought of putting up with the aftermath made it so not worth it for him. It’s not that he didn’t want your body. It’s your heart he didn’t want to deal with. He has no use for it. Anyone who knows a thing or two about him can tell you that the man never dates, and never falls in love. Welcome to James’s Sexton’s world, baby.”
I bite my lips so hard, I taste blood. I wish I could argue with her, but it’s futile. She’s never been more on point than she is right now.
“Why would he put up with all that drama? Really...” she murmurs as she spins on her heel and struts out of the room while tears stream down my face.
9
RAIN
* * *
TEN MONTHS LATER
* * *
“How was Italy?” Mrs. Gordon asks, her hand squeezing mine.
“It was wonderful,” I say, flashing a polite smile.
“What about your book? Your mom says it’s ready to be released.”
Her eyes light up with a warm smile.
“Yes, it will be published in the fall,” I say, giving her a full mouth grin.
“That is fantastic news. You make your parents so proud, Rain. Thank you for coming, and send them my best regards,” she says.
“I will.”
She gives me a soft pat on my shoulder, excuses herself and steps away from me, her attention shifting to the other guests.
There are at least one hundred people in attendance, her large property hosting one of the most important events of the summer. The cars are still pulling in. Elegant couples walk inside the house, some heading to the backyard. The women wear evening gowns while the men fashion tuxedoes.
A tradition amongst the elites, Mrs. Gordon’s party is attended by who’s who of the county. Bankers, business people, council members. Their spouses and daughters.
My father had a schedule conflict, and my mom is still in California, visiting some friends. Daria is not back from college. By default, I’m the next best option, and sort of the last option.
Fresh off the plane, I’m still adjusting to being back home. The time I’ve spent overseas was a great experience. I met a lot of interesting people and visited wonderful places. The space I put between Daria and me, helped me a lot and made me a little wiser. I think.
Many good things have happened these past months except one.
I couldn’t forget James Sexton.
I strut across the vast room, my long red gown sweeping the floor, drawing people’s eyes. Tailored for a slim fit, it features a one shoulder style neckline, and a side slit that reveals my leg up to my upper thigh.
I cut my way through the crowd, stopping from time to time, reconnecting with family friends.
Many of them are genuinely surprised to see me here, some of them confessing they had a hard time recognizing me.
Most of them carry the memory of me as the girl riding the bicycle up and down the cobblestone streets, joined at the hip with my best friend.
As the party unfolds, people gather around the tables, twirl on the dancing floor or dish on politics on the terrace.
I snatch a glass filled with raspberry lemonade and head outside.
A cacophony of voices drifts through the air as I enter the hallway leading to the exit.
Deftly, I lift the bottom of my gown and hold it with one hand while I clutch my glass with the other and slice my way to the door.
“Oh... I’m sorry,” I say as I make a sharp turn without looking and bump into the hard frame of a tall man.
He spins around, his elbow colliding with my arm and horrified, I watch half of my drink spilling on his tuxedo.
“Oh...” I mutter, apologetic, my voice filled with genuine regret.
My eyes stay on the smooth wool of his jacket as my fingers brush off the pinkish beads of liquid from his sleeve.
He doesn’t move or say a word, prompting me to raise my eyes.
My gaze drifts up, an apology rolling off my lips, and then the air stops flowing in my lungs.
I halt mid sentence as our eyes lock.
My words die on my lips, my blood freezing in my veins, the air turning into icicles as my face drains out of blood.
>
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
Ice-cold blood runs through my veins as I soak in the perfect fit of his tuxedo, his handsome face and the raven hair sliding over his crisp white collar.
Against my better judgment, I shift my eyes to the beautiful brunette at his side. She studies me, her blue eyes filled with curiosity. She’s not older than me, and anger barrels through my blood.
He takes in my reaction, the trembling of my lips, and the tension in my jaw. His lips stay pressed together, his dark green eyes unreadable.
The woman looks at him, confused. He doesn’t pay attention to her and keeps staring at me, cold and detached.
“You’re late,” Lex’s voice rings out behind me as he’s talking to him.
Oblivious to me, he inches closer to James, the dark-haired woman still waiting for an explanation.
She fashions a strapless blue dress, the azure bringing out the color of her eyes. Dangling sparkling earrings brush her shoulders. She’s pretty and reminds me of the hostess who took our order last year at Red’s.
James narrows his eyes at me as I put the last pieces of the puzzle together. Prompted by the awkward silence, Lex follows his gaze and finally connects his eyes with me.
“Rain?!”
He couldn’t be more surprised. He whips his gaze up and down on me, washed with disbelief. Stunned, he soaks me in before his eyes sink into mine.
The tuxedo does him justice as well, the smooth fabric falling perfectly on his athletic body. His hair, like James’, rolls long over the collar. Despite their formal clothing, it’s hard to miss the wild glint in their eyes.
I hand Lex my glass, sneak between the two of them, and dash out the door.
One of my mom’s friends spots me as I hurry down the stairs. She waves at me, and I mouth a rushed apology and dart to my car.
“Rain?”
James’ voice, the last thing I thought I’d hear, sets a chemical reaction in my body.
My hands start shaking, trembling like my pulse, my legs feeling funny.
I hurl a glance over the crowd. My ride is parked way in the back, tucked behind dozens of other cars, the valets moving slowly as people are still coming in.
I make a sharp turn to the right and walk across the lawn, cutting my path through groups of people. I grab the bottom of my dress and hurry to the other side of the estate.
Soon, there are no people around me, and the noise of the party fades out into the background.
A narrow alley takes me to a small meadow. I slow down and try to catch my breath. And then I hear his footsteps.
“Rain!”
His voice hurts me inside. There’s not the slightest trace of regret, let alone the promise of an apology.
I turn around, seething with fury.
“Get away from me, Sexton,” I growl.
He locks my eyes, the coldness, and arrogance of his gaze, reminding me how cruel he can be.
“Get the hell away!” I snarl and shove my fist into his chest.
The sunset drips through the branches of the trees washing him with light, and yet his eyes look dark like the night.
“Stop it!” he barks at me, grabbing my arm, and my hand shoots faster than I can form a thought as I slap him hard.
He freezes and doesn’t bat a lash .
If it wasn’t for his flushed cheek, the muscle ticking in his jaw, and the glare in his eyes, I wouldn’t believe I actually did it.
“What’s your fucking problem, Rain?” he thunders.
“What’s my problem?” I shrill. “Are you really asking me that? You didn’t even care to talk to me.”
He narrows his eyes and presses his lips together, streaming utter fury, and it dawns on me that this is not the kind of man I want to cross.
“How old is she, James? Huh? Why her and not me?” I shout, my emotions spinning out of control.
“You can’t possibly understand,” he says dryly.
“Oh, okay... Then why don’t you help me understand?” I say, yanking my arm out of his grip. “Tell me. I’m dying to hear.”
“She’s someone I fuck,” he says cold, his words spinning daggers in my heart.
Tears pool in my eyes.
“That’s it?” I ask, my voice filled with disbelief. “That’s all she is to you? And I wasn’t even that?” I mutter. “Everything I felt that night... Was that a lie?”
He watches me in silence, his eyes impossible to read.
“Tell me!!” I shout, my fists crashing into his chest again.
He cuffs my wrists mid air as I take a swing at him the second time.
“It wasn’t a lie,” he says.
“Then what the fuck was it?”
He just looks at me, wordless, refusing to restore my sanity. I’m not going to get answers from him. In fact, I’m not going to get anything from him, other than what he’s willing to give me, and right now that’s nothing.
“You know... My sister had a theory. She said you didn’t want to touch me because you didn’t want my heart. It turns out she was right.”
I search his eyes, hoping to find a sliver of emotion, but other than a faint, distant light that fleets through his gaze, I see nothing. Like a comet, not close enough to see it, and not far enough to miss it.
“You’re nothing but a fucking coward, James. I wish I never met you,” I say with a softer, broken voice.
I pull my hands out of his lock, run my fingers over my face, and brush away my tears before I step away from him.
His arm winds around my waist, pulling me back to him.
“ Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Let me go...” I say, pushing hard against his chest. “I don’t want you, James... Not like that. I don’t want your pity,” I bark, and his eyes turn dark.
With one swift motion, he grabs my hair, and tilts my head back, drilling me with his eyes.
He tightens his arm around me and locks me against his body, his gaze streaming power, his jaw clenching, barely pushing back his anger and frustration.
My hands crawl timidly up his arms.
He lowers his head, and murmurs close to my temple.
“Has it ever crossed your mind I might not be the man for you?”
His teeth grind the words, the sharp edge of his voice scraping my ears, his grip hurting me.
“Hmm?”
He jerks me hard, and I don’t bat a lash. Unfazed, I study him, keenly registering his dark lashes, and the specks of light caught in the velvet of his eyes.
“How can you possibly know if you’re not willing to give it a try?”
“I don’t need to. You don’t know me, Rain. You don’t know my life. You’re just a kid who’d spotted a shiny toy and now wants to play with it. I’m not who you think I am. I’m different than the men you know, and I’m far from what you imagine. I’m not a good man, Rain, and you deserve better than me. I did what I did because I felt it was better that way.”
“How can you be so sure? And what makes you think you know me? It’s not your business what I want or deserve.”
He pulls my hair back and tips my face up again, his lips stopping a mere inch from mine.
“I know everything about you Rain,” he says. “And it’s way more than you think.”
A soft buzzing vibrates in his pocket. He retrieves his phone and glances at the screen.
“Love chatting with you, darling, but I have some business to attend to if you don’t mind,” he says sarcastically.
“Okay...” I mutter with a softer voice.
He tucks his phone into his pocket, his hand still forged in my hair.
“Can you let go of me?” I ask spiteful.
“You come with me,” he says, already hauling me toward the house.
“No. I’m not,” I say, pulling back.
He stops and turns to me, tasering me with his eyes.
“Yes. You are. I’m not discussing this with you.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“I didn’t
change my mind.”
“What about your date?”
“She’s not my date. She’s already home.”
“You mean the whorehouse,” I mumble under my breath.
He stops and glowers at me.
“What did you just say?”
“Nothing.”
He curls his hand around my neck, his thumb pressing on my cheek.
He leans toward me, his eyes throwing fire.
“Who’s the fucking coward, Rain?”
“I meant the place where you keep the women you fuck,” I say, defiant.
He grabs my chin and tips my face up.
“Watch your fucking mouth, sweetie,” he rumbles.
“I’m not your fucking sweetie,” I say scornfully.
His gaze goes down on me, an unnerving smile flashing on his lips.
“Oh, I think you are...” he says, his eyes seizing me expertly. “Has anyone touched you since I saw you last time?”
I purse my lips and look at him poker-faced. A rush of blood floods my face, giving me away.
His eyes narrow with a wolfish smile.
“Go fuck yourself, James!” I burst out and tear away from him.
He grabs me again, and brings his hands to my neck, his long fingers splaying over my cheeks, his thumbs pressing on my lips.
I clutch his arms.
“You should watch your mouth, babe. You’re nothing but a fucking spoiled brat,” he says, smirking. “When you said you wish you hadn’t met me you had no idea what regret was.”
“Are you threatening me?” I throw at him, unaffected.
He pulls back slightly, a lopsided smile curving his lips.
“Uh-huh. I fucking do. You should’ve taken my word when I told you I was not the man for you a year ago.”
“Are you the man for the woman you had with you tonight?”
His eyes glint, frosted again.
“I’m no one’s man and don’t fool yourself. I won’t be yours either,” he says, and straightens his back, letting go of me.
“Fine. Who cares?” I hurl at him.
“Okay.”
“Good.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the house. I barely keep the pace with him, his fingers crushing mine.
