Game of Fear

by Kabongo, Glede Browne

  “I don’t know,” he says, pinching his nose. He strolls toward the desk in the middle of the room.

  I join him and take his hand in mine. “It could be a fresh start for the both of you.”

  “You’re too optimistic. She’s not interested in my art.”

  “Has your father seen any of it?”

  “A couple.”

  “So, why not your mom?”

  “If she was interested, she would have asked. My Dad did. He’s a jerk sometimes, but he took an interest.”

  His shoulders tense up. I don’t want to push the issue any further. He’ll come to his own conclusions and do what he thinks is best. “Thank you for sharing your art with me. I’ll cherish the memory.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Of course.”

  “You can be honest.”

  “I like your use of color and how deliberate your brush strokes are, as if each one has a strategy behind it, so it won’t be the same as the next. I like how you interpret what you see. There’s optimism in your perspective.”

  He kisses me on the cheek, and then hugs me tight. After he releases me, I ask “What was that for?”

  “You continually amaze me. Words can’t explain how you make me feel.”

  He walks away from the desk and moves toward the French chair set against the wall near the window. He sits, and rests his hands on either side of his head. He stares at the floor, not saying a word.

  I walk over and kneel in front of him. I palm his face with my hands and force him to look at me. “I don’t have the words to explain how you make me feel, either,” I whisper.”

  He grins at me bashfully. “Talking is overrated, anyway.”

  I get on my feet, and squeeze in next to him on the chair. I bury my face in his neck and close my eyes, inhaling the scent of him. “I agree.”

  So, we just sit, in a chair not big enough to seat two people. But somehow, it’s a perfect fit. We don’t need big emotional words. All we need is just the silence. And sometimes, that’s the best way to be heard.

  CHAPTER 29

  The girl in the mirror looks like she belongs on the cover of Vanity Fair’s Hollywood issue, with her sophisticated updo, flawless makeup, and glamorous evening gown—a white, one shoulder, Armani Privé number that gathers at the waist and cascades to the floor. The side slit is a little risqué for my tastes, but Callie has been pressing me to take chances with my wardrobe.

  A gentle knock on the door signals that it’s time to head downstairs to the ballroom and have an evening I will never forget. I open the door wide. Christian and I stand there, gawking at each other like two besotted fools. He’s impeccably groomed in a tailored tuxedo that fits his form to perfection.

  He speaks first. “I don’t think we should go to the party. Someone will try to steal you from me, and I’ll have to beat him up.”

  “No way. It took me half a day to get ready. You just had to shower and put on a tux. I’ve been plucked, scrubbed, poked, pulled, and squeezed. Between the facials, body wrap, manicure and pedicure, waxing, and the hair and makeup sessions, I deserve my reward.”

  “If I’m a good boy, will I get my reward too?” His eyes glitter like sapphires.

  “Who says I want you to be a good boy?”

  I shoo him away when he leans in for a kiss. I don’t want to ruin my makeup. I tell him I’ll meet him downstairs after I do a final once over in the mirror.

  Waiters in white dinner jackets and black slacks serve appetizers, hors d’oeuvres and champagne in the ballroom foyer. A full bar is in operation, and a few leather armchairs are peppered throughout the space. This party is the perfect place for a heist. The amount of bling alone would make the thieves instant millionaires if they could penetrate the ironclad security put in place for the ball.

  Christian heads to the bar and returns with two orange and cranberry juices. He hands me one. Before I can take a sip, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around slowly and come face-to-face with Kerri Wheeler. She’s stunning in a black, strapless evening gown. Her smooth, golden bronze complexion and striking gray eyes add a glossy richness to her appearance. The long, tangled brown mess she sported in high school is now cut in a sleek, honey-colored bob.

  “Hi, Kerri.”

  “Little Abbie Cooper,” she says, her eyes wide. “That is some dress.”

  She knows I hate it when she calls me Little Abbie Cooper. It was her way of putting me in my place when she was chasing after Ty, letting me know I was just a kid and Ty would never see me as anything more.

  “We’ve all changed, Kerri.”

  “Hey, cuz,” she says, addressing Christian. “Can you give us a couple of minutes?”

  “Sure, I get it. Girl talk.” He kisses me on the cheek. “Don’t wander off too far.”

  “So, you and my cousin,” she says, sitting in one of the leather armchairs we found unoccupied. I take a seat, too, and place my juice on the end table. A waiter comes by and lowers a tray piled with smoked salmon and cream cheese cucumber bites. Kerri waves him off.

  “I was surprised when he told me the two of you were a couple.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Come on. You’re you, and Christian is a free spirit.”

  “What are you really after, Kerri? You didn’t pull me aside to do a personality assessment.”

  “Still the straight shooter. When it’s convenient.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Nothing. Just don’t hurt him.”

  I can’t contain my irritation. “I love him. Why would I hurt him?”

  Kerri is eerily silent. She tinkers with the mixed cluster diamond bracelet on her wrist. Pandemonium breaks out in my head. Where did that come from? When did it happen, exactly? Is Kerri going to tell him I said that?

  “So Christian doesn’t know how you feel?” Her attention is focused on me once more.

  “No. I haven’t told him.”

  “Don’t worry about it. He adores you. Still don’t get it, but whatever.”

  “You don’t have to get it, Kerri. We just click.” We haven’t seen each other in years but Kerri still knows how to push my buttons.

  “So, you’re over Ty?”

  “What?”

  “Let’s keep it real between us, Abbie, she says, edging closer to me. The smell of her perfume tickles my nostrils. “You wanted to rip my head off for dating Ty. You had it bad for him. The fact that the two of you are still close friends tells me—”

  “That we’re close friends. Don’t create drama where there isn’t any, Kerri.”

  “He was your first love. A girl doesn’t just get over that.”

  “I’m with Christian. Period.”

  “I’m serious about you not hurting Christian,” she says. “You’ll have to deal with me if you do.”

  “Deal with you about what?”

  I’m relieved to hear his voice. Kerri and I look up at him.

  “Kerri thinks she’s a mother bear and it’s her job to protect you from me.”

  “It wasn’t easy convincing Abbie to take a chance on me,” he says to his cousin. “Stop giving her grief.”

  “Still don’t get it,” Kerri mumbles as she leaves us to go mingle.

  I’m refreshing my makeup in the ladies’ room when two girls appear on either side of me. One of them spills out of a blue ball gown. The other, decked out in a lavender, floor-length halter-top dress looks like she’s in desperate need of food. Her collarbone alone could be classified as a lethal weapon.

  “So, you’re Christian’s girlfriend,” the skinny one says.

  What am I supposed to do here? Give her confirmation? I have no idea who they are and why they would care.

  “Maybe she doesn’t speak, Leah,” the one in the blue gown says to her friend.

  “Why do you care who Christian is dating?” I ask.

  “We just want to know how you pulled it off,” Leah responds.

  “Pulled what off?” I ask.

&
nbsp; “Christian doesn’t do girlfriends, right, Chelsea?” Leah asks her friend. “He’s more of a hookup kind of guy. So, I’m wondering how long before he dumps you. You made it this far, so I guess that means you haven’t hooked up yet. Once you do, you’re history.”

  My stomach tightens. I can’t let them see how much they’ve affected me. I roll my eyes at them. “How would you know?”

  The sly, knowing glance exchanged between them is all the answer I need.

  “Both of you?” Apparently, I’m a masochist for asking this question.

  They shake their heads with stupid grins on their faces, as if they just won the grand prize on some cheesy reality show.

  “And you’re friends?”

  “BFFs,” Chelsea admits.

  I press my hands to my stomach, and concentrate hard, not wanting to throw up. The last thing I need is to embarrass myself in front of these girls.

  “Leah points to me and laughs. “She’s praying she doesn’t get dumped.”

  They giggle. I don’t open my eyes until they leave. I knew who Christian was before we started dating. I just didn’t think I would run into his past in his home. Does this change anything? I’m more confused than ever.

  Christian and I head into the ballroom for the sit-down dinner. Katherine told me she was going for a modern elegance theme, and she made it happen. Strass crystal chandeliers dangle from the high ceiling with painted murals. Tables are covered in gold silk tablecloths, with gold and ivory silk overlay. The crystal stemware with gold accents and white dinner plates with gold trimming, together with massive bouquets of white flowers, including calla lilies, orchids, and English garden roses, give the event the unmistakable mark of opulence and grandeur.

  “What happened in the bathroom?” Christian asks the moment we sit down. We’ve barely acknowledged the other guests seated with us.

  “I think you’re old enough to know what happens when boys and girls go to the bathroom.”

  He frowns. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m great,” I say, tapping my feet to the beat of the live band’s rendition of Frank Sinatra’s The Best is Yet to Come.

  “No, you’re not. Did Kerri say something that upset you?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You went cold on me.”

  It hurt, what those girls said. I don’t want it to be true, but what if it is? What if it was his plan all along? I can’t breathe. Tears pool in my eyes. I bury my hands in my face and turn away from him.

  “Babe, please tell me what’s going on. Who hurt you?”

  “You did,” I say between ragged breaths.

  He removes my hands from my face and wipes my tear-stained cheeks with his fingers.

  “What did I do?”

  “Leah and Chelsea.”

  Expletives tumble from his lips. I’ve never heard him swear since we’ve been together.

  “That’s in the past, and I didn’t know they were friends. What did they say?”

  “That you’d dump me the minute…the minute.” I can’t even say it. I swallow hard.

  “Look into my eyes,” he commands. “I’ve never lied about my feelings for you. I would never hurt you like that, Abbie. If you don’t believe me, I’ll walk away and never bother you again.”

  My bottom lip quivers. I know he’s telling the truth. Why do I allow myself to doubt him? Why can’t I just accept and trust his actions? Is it because of the guilt that’s been festering in my bones, the knowledge that my lies will demolish what we’ve built once school resumes?

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “You’re right. You’ve been wonderful. I’m sorry I flipped out. It wasn’t fun hearing them talk about hooking up with you and how I would end up like them.”

  “They’re jealous and want you to feel insecure. The only reason they’re here is because Chelsea’s aunt is on the Board of Directors for the foundation. She scored them invitations.”

  “No more meltdowns, no more doubt. I promise.”

  Dinner is scrumptious, and I plan to stay away from dessert. Before Christian and I hit the dance floor, we pose for pictures. Callie wasn’t kidding. The place is crawling with press. I’ve been introduced to celebrities all evening (I haven’t embarrassed myself so far), but one, in particular, has me curious. Nicholas Furi just walked into the ballroom with a glamorous Hollywood Starlet on his arm.

  “Christian, look,” I say, nodding in their direction. “I’m snapping a photo and sending it to Callie.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “You’re right. It will only fuel her rage about the divorce.”

  “We should say hello. I’m sure he’ll like that.”

  “If I exchange pleasantries, I’ll feel bad about ratting him out to Callie, which is exactly what I intend to do.”

  While Christian and I are busy debating, Nicholas Furi sneaks up on us, without his companion.

  “Christian, I think you have the prettiest girl at the ball as your date.”

  I turn around and come face-to-face again with the male version of Callie. Same raven black hair and cobalt blue eyes that look like they’re always cooking up mischief. He’s smaller in stature than he appears on television. He could be mistaken for a prom date instead of a world-famous movie director.

  “Mr. Furi, it’s good to see you again,” I say.

  “Please, Abbie, call me Nicholas. We’re past the formality.”

  He asks us how we spent the holidays and if we’re excited about graduation and our plans afterward. Christian and I both know what he really wants is to talk about Callie. Soon, Nicholas whisks me off to the dance floor. Christian is a little annoyed because it was our chance to begin dancing the night away. I shoot him a sympathetic glance.

  In my heels, I’m at least two inches taller than Nicholas, but it doesn’t bother him as he twirls me around the dance floor. “How is Callie?”

  “She’s disappointed in you.”

  “I know. She blames me for the divorce. There’s so much she doesn’t know.”

  “So, why don’t you tell her?”

  “I have to protect her.”

  “From what?”

  “It’s complicated, Abbie. She’s all I have left that matters to me. I can’t lose her.”

  “Are you asking me to talk to her?”

  “She doesn’t take my calls or answer my texts. On the rare occasion that she does, she’s openly hostile. She’s siding with her mother in the divorce.”

  “I don’t know what I can do to help. If you have something to say to her, if her understanding of what happened is wrong, you have to let her know. I can’t do that for you.”

  “I just need some time alone with her to explain things, certain situations she’s not aware of.”

  I’m dying to know what things and situations Callie may not be aware of, but that’s between Callie and her Dad, so I clamp down on my nosiness.

  By the time the song is over, Nicholas has convinced me to talk to Callie on his behalf. He said he would fly up to school to visit her so they could talk.

  After my chat with Nicholas, Christian refuses to let me dance with anyone else. We spend the rest of the evening in our own little world.

  CHAPTER 30

  A brand new year has begun. It’s 2:00 in the morning and I lie flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I can’t seem to fall asleep. Christian and I toasted the New Year with sparkling apple cider. He said I was a good influence on him because if I weren’t present, he would have had the hard stuff. I want to remember every detail of my visit: every smile, conversation, the sights, sounds, and smells, but especially every moment I spent with Christian here.

  The screen of my cell phone lights up, casting a glow around the room. I answer, and soon thereafter, I open the door and let Christian in. He sits next to me on the bed.

  “Couldn’t sleep either?”

  “No. I want to show you something important,” he says, holding up his phone.

&n
bsp; “What is it?”

  “My heart.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It upset me that you were so hurt by what Leah and Chelsea said to you. I don’t want you to ever doubt me again.”

  “I won’t. I don’t know why I freaked out like that.”

  He wraps one arm around my shoulders and scrolls on his phone with his free hand. “These are the text messages my mom and I exchanged about you. We have our issues, but when you agreed to go out with me, I couldn’t believe it. I had to share that with her.”

  I’m so touched by the gesture that I feel my tear ducts are about to burst wide open. “That’s between you and your mother.”

  “I have to show you. Maybe it will explain how I feel better than I could ever say with words. Please, let me do this.”

  “Okay.”

  CHRISTIAN:

  She said yes. Can u believe it?

  KATHERINE:

  Who said yes?

  CHRISTIAN:

  Abbie Cooper.

  KATHERINE:

  Yes to what? You’re not making sense.

  CHRISTIAN:

  She agreed to go out with me.

  KATHERINE:

  I thought you went out with lots of girls. Is this important?

  CHRISTIAN:

  YES!!!

  KATHERINE:

  Oh. Is she a nice girl?

  CHRISTIAN:

  The best girl.

  KATHERINE:

  I’m happy for you then.

  He scrolls to the next message.

  KATHERINE:

  I’ve never seen you this excited about a girl before.

  CHRISTIAN:

  I’ve never met anyone like her before.

  KATHERINE:

  Tell me about her.

  CHRISTIAN:

  I’ll tell you more when we talk, but she’s smart and funny and doesn’t take crap from me.

  KATHERINE:

  She sounds perfect for you. You get out of control sometimes.

  I read several more text messages, each one more intense than the previous one. It’s as if he was writing diary entries about his feelings for me by texting his mother. I rest my head on his shoulder. I want to capture this moment and keep it locked away so no one, and nothing can taint it. The last text floors me.