Fractured Fairy Tales

by Catherine Stovall

  “A pretty necklace for a beautiful lady.” He smiled, and two dimples stood out on either cheek.

  I was immediately smitten, and couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “I could never afford that,” I sadly admitted.

  We talked in front of the window, the light reflecting on his face from the sun hitting all of the precious stones on display. The world seemed to fade away, and as the chill in the air began to set into my bones, I bid him farewell, but not before exchanging numbers.

  My alarm went off the next morning at eight o’clock sharp, reminding me that it was time to get ready for my daily grind. My job paid minimum wage and my home was in the seediest neighborhood, but at least I could afford a roof over my head, if barely. As I stood and stretched, my doorbell rang.

  Who the hell is here this early? Where’s my gun? I frantically looked for my gun, afraid of what awaited me on the other side of the door. Anything was possible in my neighborhood.

  Grabbing my robe, I padded to the entryway and looked through the peephole. A delivery man stood on the other side, a package in his hand. After greeting the man and signing the proffered sheet, I took the package and sat at my sorry excuse for a kitchen table.

  There was a small card attached.

  For the beautiful lady, coffee at The Buzz tomorrow, ten o’clock?

  I smiled, imagining the man I had met the day previous, before reality began to place doubts in my daydream. That isn’t for you. The delivery man made a mistake. Don’t open it. The owner will be pissed.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I gently peeled the tape away from one end of the box and carefully unfolded the paper. Inside, a small nondescript box beckoned to be opened. My hand covered my mouth in awe; the dainty necklace from the window lay inside the velvet lined box. The amethyst twinkled in the light filtering through my blinds, casting colorful rainbows through my kitchen. With shaking fingers, I reached out and touched the precious gem and caressed the thin silver chain.

  That was the beginning of my relationship and the end of all I had ever known.

    

  The man gave me a necklace worth thousands. What can coffee hurt?

  I met the stranger for coffee the next morning at the local coffee shop—against my better judgment. I spotted his green eyes across the room and walked straight to his table. To my dismay, we weren’t alone.

  “I’m George,” he introduced himself to me for the first time. “This is my younger brother Gregory, and my older brother Bryan.” He motioned to each as he introduced them, and while Gregory looked friendly, if a bit young, Bryan looked intimidating. His tall frame barely fit at the small table, and his hands held the coffee mug as if it were a small girl’s tea set.

  “Um, hi,” I mumbled. “I’m Goldie.”

  George pulled out my chair and winked, immediately relaxing me. There was something special about the twinkle in his eye and the deep dimples in his cheeks that made me immediately trust him.

  “Thank you for the beautiful gift,” I gazed into his eyes, lost in their dark and light swirls. I was so lost that I missed the disapproving look that Bryan shot his way.

  “What did I tell you?” Bryan growled.

  “You’re cool, aren’t you Goldie?” Gregory finally spoke in a soft voice.

  Having no idea what he meant, I answered and hoped that Bryan would stop staring at me like he wanted to eat me. “Of course I am.” Oh, what have I gotten myself into this time?

  The conversation ceased while I played in the sugar that had spilled on the table. The brothers seemed to be having a silent, private conversation through glares and grunts.

  Looking down, I realized I had drawn a picture of a heart, felt a blush creep up my neck before wiping the drawing away and looking up at George. He smiled and winked, and I felt someone touch my foot under the table.

    

  Things progressed quickly, my connection to the gorgeous man growing with each encounter. Even his brothers, Bryan in particular, weren’t enough of a deterrent for my heart. Days turned into weeks, and after a month of meeting for lunches with his brothers, George finally called to invite me to dinner alone.

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, judging every angle, and finally decided on the fifth dress I had tried on. This is so stupid. This isn’t the first time you’ve met, dummy. I blew out a nervous breath, ran my fingers through my hair, and had a moment of panic as the doorbell rang. Though I had seen him a number of times already, we had never been alone. I had never felt the intimacy or pressure of an actual date, until I opened the door to find him standing on my stoop with a single calla lily.

  “You look ravishing.” He smiled and lifted my hand to his generous lips.

  “As do you, I mean, you look handsome,” I stammered, wanting to smack myself.

  He walked me to his car and opened the door like a gentleman. Without consciously thinking about what I was doing, I glanced in the backseat expecting to find Gregory and Bryan. George slid fluidly into the leather seat next to me, his cologne tantalizing my senses and reminding me of a rainy day in the forest.

  “Where are we heading?” He had kept our location a secret from me, and I was curious as to our destination. I secretly hoped the night would be filled with something more original than dinner and a movie.

  George laughed as if he had heard my thoughts. “Do you like art?”

  I had never entertained an opinion either way, so I told him as much. “I’m always up for something new, though,” I laughed.

  I watched the city lights blur as we sped down the highway in his sports car, the world ours for the taking. Twenty minutes and a great conversation later, we arrived at a swanky new art show, complete with a valet and red carpet.

  “Is this for someone famous?” I felt a bit out of place, with all of the glitz surrounding me, but tried to maintain my composure.

  George just laced his fingers through mine and led me inside. I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped my lips as I took in the beauty of the room. Colors, bright and vibrant, stood out among the crisp white canvases, while modern art pieces served as centerpieces in the large space.

  “This is beautiful,” I spoke aloud as my eyes darted from canvas to canvas, seemingly unable to decide where they wanted to focus.

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed, and as I glanced at him, I realized he was looking only at me, ignoring the scene before us.

  I felt the blush coloring my face as I smiled nervously. “Do you know the artist?” I fidgeted, uncomfortable having his attention only on me.

  “I don’t, but I am a fan.” He led me by each of the canvases, all equally beautiful and captivating in their own way. We continued the evening talking about the different works of art, sipping the complimentary champagne, and laughing with each other.

  As the host announced the closing of the gallery, George turned to me. “Which is your favorite?”

  I took a moment, looking around one last time, though I already knew my answer. “That one.” I pointed to the piece of the woman sitting on a rock in the middle of the forest with her back to the artist, a lone flower growing under her outstretched hand. It moved me with its simplicity and beauty.

  “Good choice.” He smiled, placing his hand on my lower back, as he ushered me outside and back to the vehicle. The drive home was filled with conversation about the gala, but my stomach was secretly turning, wondering if he would kiss me goodnight.

  As we walked to the door, I felt my hand tick, fingers jerking uncontrollably, as if they had a mind of their own and wanted to grasp his hair and pull his lips to mine. We stood together, and he finally leaned down to embrace and kiss me as I had never been kissed before. I had kissed many men, but this was just right, and I melted in his embrace.

  Too soon, the moment ended, we bid each other goodnight, and I fumbled with my keys trying to unlock my front door. Once inside, I collapsed against the closed door and sat on the floor, still light-headed from the spine-tingling m
oment.

    

  I awakened the next morning, a smile on my face as I stretched and blinked from the sun’s rays caressing me with the dawn’s light. As I plodded to the bathroom, I giggled, remembering the night’s events. God but the man can kiss.

  I was drinking my morning java when the doorbell rang. Opening the door, I found a large package waiting on my stoop, wrapped in plain brown paper with no card. I brought it back into the living room, where the morning news was blaring about the latest crime that had been committed.

  I gasped as I ripped the paper away and found myself staring at the picture from the art gallery, the exact one that I had expressed interest in when George had asked my favorite. Without conscious effort, my ears perked up and caught the tail end of the newscast.

  The news team was standing in front of the art gallery where we had been, interviewing a witness who had witnessed three men running from the building under the cover of darkness. The alarm had awakened him from his sleep, and he had managed to see the three strangers running down the alley next to the gallery. The reporter went on to describe the perpetrators’ height and weight, but I was no longer listening; the picture taunted me, the man of my dreams haunting my memory.

  After hiding the stolen painting behind my sofa, I picked up the phone and dialed. I had to speak with him, had to have an explanation. I wanted him to tell me I was wrong, that there was a reasonable explanation. After four rings, I gave up and ended the call. Pacing, phone in hand, I came to the decision to wait until I spoke to George before calling the police.

  Minutes later, my doorbell rang again, and my adrenaline coursed through my veins as paranoia rampaged my nerves. I placed my shaking hand on the doorknob; sure the police were standing on my stoop, ready to search my home. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and sighed with relief and confusion. George stood with his brothers behind him, and cleared his throat as he waited for me to acknowledge his presence.

    

  “Just sit down and let me explain,” George pleaded, sitting on the ottoman in front of my chair.

  I was breathing loudly, my nerves shot and feelings all over the spectrum. I couldn’t imagine the man in front of me being the same gentleman from the night before. My brain couldn’t make sense of my feelings.

  “I told you she wasn’t cool,” Bryan grumbled from his spot in the corner, where he leaned against the wall staring at his fingernails before biting and spitting the nail on the carpet.

  “Just give her time, bro,” Gregory argued, smiling cautiously as he gazed at me with hope in his eyes.

  I took a calming breath, looked into George’s eyes, and gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Explain, then.”

  George blew out a relieved breath and began. “My brothers and I were orphaned long ago. Bryan took care of me and Gregory in the family cabin. Money was scarce, so we learned how to support ourselves through less traditional means. We were too young to work.” His eyes begged for my understanding.

  “So, what, you steal for a living?” I couldn’t believe that I was actually feeling bad for the men in front of me, as my eyes wandered, landing on each of the three men. If I looked closely, I could see a memory of the lost boys in each of them.

  “Yes, but only from those that can afford it. We steal only what we need, but I admit, I slipped last night. I wanted to give you your heart’s desire, and I made a rash decision. Gregory and Bryan showed up at the last minute and helped me bail before I got caught.” George sat back, done telling his story, as short as it was, and waited for my response.

  I didn’t know what to say. Sure, I am involved with a family of criminals, and even now, his eyes are making me want to take him in the next room. Lovely. “I understand why you did it, but must you continue?”

  “Yes, miss high-and-mighty, we must continue. It is our livelihood, and we are damn good at it,” Gregory spit venomously. His hatred of me was apparent.

  “Why do you hate me so much? What have I done to you?” I couldn’t think of anything I had done that would warrant his malicious attitude.

  “You are making George do foolish things, even if you ain’t doing it on purpose, and that pisses me off. We don’t know how serious you are about him, or us, and it’s dangerous!”

  George interrupted Gregory’s rant, “She has done nothing wrong, big brother, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak to her in that tone.” George’s own tone was calm, but the threat lay just below the surface.

  Wanting to de-escalate the situation, I made my feelings known to everyone, including myself. “I want nothing but good things for all of you. As far as George, well, I think I love him.”

  I couldn’t believe what I had just said. I love him? Really? So soon? Impossible? Is it impossible? How do I know? Thoughts tumbled through my mind, but were stopped in their tracks as George leaned forward and pulled me to him, his tongue dancing with mine in another sizzling kiss.

  He pulled back and grinned, before looking at his brothers and pulling me into his lap. “Guess that makes you one of us now!”

  Bryan seemed as happy as George, but Gregory took one look at us and stalked from the room.

  I couldn’t help it, and in the face of Bryan’s enthusiasm, I smiled back. George kissed me again, and I could feel his desire rising as the kiss deepened. Bryan cleared his throat, but we were so lost in the kiss that he finally gave up and left as well. George picked me up, my legs wrapping around his waist of their own accord, and carried me upstairs. I directed him between breaths, and when next our mouths separated, I was lying on my bed staring into George’s lust filled eyes.

    

  Waking from my short nap, I smiled and kissed George’s swollen lips. “I bet your brothers heard every bit of that. I wasn’t exactly quiet.” I felt the crimson creeping on to my cheeks, giving away my sense of modesty.

  “They know better than to be close enough to hear anything they shouldn’t,” George reassured me, his deep timbre and naked chest warming my blood again.

  I knew there were things that I should be worried about, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “What are we going to do?” I asked aloud, not really expecting an answer.

  “I am going to do everything to make you happy. I want you to have everything you have ever wanted.” George stared deep into my eyes as he continued, and professed his love, as I had so bluntly earlier in front of his brothers.

  The woman in me gave a sigh, and my heart felt too full. I wanted to hold him so tightly that we became one person, never to be separated again. “We should probably get downstairs. Who knows what your brothers are getting in to,” I regretfully admitted.

  We both dressed and kissed long and deep one last time before leaving the confines of my bedroom and heading downstairs. I walked into the kitchen and gasped. Food from the cabinets and refrigerator was strewn on my counters, and Gregory and Bryan were stuffing their faces with food from bowls.

  “I hope you found what you were looking for,” I grumbled as I began picking up and putting away the food.

  “Well, we had to sort through all of your healthy shit to find the real food,” Bryan mumbled between bites of what looked like oatmeal. He had the biggest bowl I had in the cupboards, and was scarfing down the steaming oats.

  “So sorry my selection wasn’t to your liking,” my mood immediately soured. I loved George, but his older brother got on my last nerve.

  “He’s just grouchy, ignore him. Thank you for your hospitality and your kindness,” Gregory smiled, bits of oat stuck in his front teeth.

  I couldn’t help but smile. While Bryan pissed me off, Gregory was endearing himself to me with his adorable demeanor. He was the youngest of the three, and obviously the most gentle.

  George stood behind me and nipped at my ear, laughing as the blush rose up my neck. “Stop that,” I whispered, squeezing from between his body and the counter to finish cleaning. I didn’t know what the next day would hold, but my worries over b
eing discovered with the painting had faded away as I became caught up in the world of three men—one whom I couldn’t imagine another day without.

    

  After spending the remainder of the day with the brothers three, George and I bid the men farewell and left them at my house to head out for a dinner alone. I had chosen the local seafood restaurant, and my stomach growled constantly on the drive, making George laugh every time.

  “You would think you never ate, if you listened to what your stomach had to say!”

  I lightly smacked him on the arm. “It’s just been a long day, and I’m used to eating dinner earlier than this.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry earlier?” He looked at me and I saw concern in his deep blue eyes.

  “We were a bit, um, occupied.” I blushed. He knew exactly what we were doing, for the second time that day, so I didn’t feel the need to elaborate. He snorted and chuckled, earning himself another smack on the arm.

  Finally, twenty minutes later, we pulled into the mostly empty parking lot. The Friday evening rush had come and gone by the time we arrived, so there was no wait for a table. The staff all seemed tired and thankful that the evening was winding down as they cleaned their stations and counted their tips.

  We ordered and talked until our food arrived. “So where do we go from here?” I spoke between bites of the most delicious shrimp and potatoes I had ever eaten.

  Before he could answer, his phone let out a shrill ring, and he reached into his pocket and answered, holding up his finger for me to wait for my answer.

  “Yes. Yes. What? I understand. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He hung up, but I could tell the situation was a bad one just by the look on his face.

  “What’s wrong, George?” My nerves began to fray and some part of me knew that the news would not be something I wanted to hear.