by Lyz Kelley
The little princess shrank inward, looking down at her white patent leather shoes with a gold bow on the toe.
“Sarah,” she whispered.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah. My name’s Rachelle. Is this what you want?”
She peeked at the colorful treat, then nodded tucking her chin.
Rachelle’s heart ached. She recognized the look. The trepidation of asking for what she wanted. The fear of wrath for presuming. She reached for the small hand, turned it palm up, and placed the cake in Sarah’s palm. When the child wrapped her fingers around the bottom, Rachelle dipped the tip of one finger in the white frosting and dotted the buttery cream sweetness on the girl's nose.
Sarah’s eyes crossed, then a second later her face lit up with a joy so innocent and pure, Rachelle’s breath hitched. The sweet sound of a child’s laughter filled her soul.
“Are you two having fun?”
Rachelle glanced up to see the one man who made her laugh. Laughter was such a precious commodity.
Since the child had her hands full, Rachelle swiped the frosting off Sarah’s nose and then stood. “Sarah and I were creating magic.”
“I’m a princess,” the four-year-old declared.
“Yes, you are. And so is Rachelle.”
Sarah shook her head. “No she’s not. Where is her princess dress?”
Jacob crouched down, chuckling. “Can you keep a secret?”
Sarah leaned closer, waiting for Jacob to reveal the precious information.
Jacob cupped his hands over Sarah’s ears. “Goldilocks’ dress is at home in the closet.”
“Goldilocks,” Sarah’s eyes formed a perfect O as she stared at Rachelle.
He straightened, still holding Sarah’s attention. “Are you staying to watch the video game?”
“No. I’m too young. My mom says I can’t watch—it’s too violet. I have to go in the other room.”
“Violet? I think you mean violent, and your mom is probably right. But there’s cool stuff going on next door. You can make a mask or draw.”
“Can I make a hat?”
“I bet you can.” Jacob winked.
“Cool. Let’s go.”
Jacob took a step to go with Sarah, but Rachelle placed a hand on his forearm. “I can take her if you want. It looks like Ben needs you for something.”
Jacob twisted his wrist. The Panerai watch, with its bold yet simple design, appealed to her sense of style, and apparently his.
“It’s one o’clock. I bet Ben wants to start the presentation.”
“Go ahead. Sarah and I’ll check out next door, and then I’ll be back.”
“Be sure to sign her in at the crafts table. We’ll keep track of her in case her parent is looking for her.” Jacob offered a smile, but he was already mentally onstage giving his spiel.
Halfway out of the hotel ballroom door, a woman’s frantic voice caught her attention.
“Sarah!” a woman with black-grey skin wheezed and reached for her daughter's arm. “What have I told you about wandering off, or talking to strangers?”
Sarah looked at her mom and shrugged. “She’s not a stranger. This is Rachelle, and she’s with him.”
“Jacob Reyes?”
Sarah nodded and pointed toward the stage.
“Now, Sarah. What have I told you about telling stories?”
Rachelle touched her hand to Sarah’s shoulder. “She’s telling the truth, ma’am.”
The woman shoved her daughter behind her.
“Jacob told Sarah a secret not more than five minutes ago. It was a special secret. Wasn’t it, Sarah?”
Sarah peeked out from behind her mother’s leg. “I told the truth.”
“Yes, you did. And that was a brave thing to do.”
Sarah hugged her mom’s legs. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, hon,” Sarah’s mom rested her hand on the back of her child’s head and nudged her closer. “I’m sorry for doubting you. I got scared when I couldn’t find you, and I reacted badly. Will you forgive me?”
Rachelle reached her hand toward the woman, who was barely standing. “My name’s Rachelle Clairemont, and you have an extraordinary daughter. May I escort you back to your seat, Ms…”
“Mary. My name’s Mary. And thank you, Ms. Clairemont, for watching after my girl.”
“It’s Rachelle.” She extended her arm. “And it was my pleasure.” Rachelle glanced over her shoulder. “The presentation is about to start. Would you like to go next door and draw, or sit for a while?”
“I need to sit,” Mary barely managed to force the words past her bluish tinged lips.
“How about this table?” Rachelle pointed to the nearest vacated oval table. “Would you like a glass of water?” Rachelle caught the eye of one of the nurses on standby.
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
She settled Mary into the chair just as a nurse approached. Sarah’s eyes had locked onto her mother as the nurse reached for Mary’s wrist.
“And, you my little princess.” Rachelle lifted Sarah’s chin with her index finger. “Would you like to have another one of those cupcakes, to share with your mom?”
“A white one?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Yes, please,” Sarah sat up straight on her chair, swinging her feet.
Rachelle placed her hand on Mary’s shoulder and squeezed. “Can I get you anything, other than water, Mary?”
Mary tapped her hand and started to cough at the same time. The worried look in Sarah’s eyes was hard to miss.
“Okay, then. One magical cupcake and some water coming up.” Rachelle winked and sent Sarah a smile and a bucketload of healing prayers for her mom. The nurse gave her the okay nod, which provided only a teaspoon of relief.
Rachelle walked toward the food tables with a couple of backward glances. Being a wife and mother hadn’t ever been on the top of her list, but today made her change her mind. Jacob and this event made her want things she never thought possible.
A blast of music from the stage drew her attention.
“And, now, for our latest action-packed gaming video,” Jacob announced while the lights dimmed. “My team has been working hard to present this never-before-seen video trailer. They created this just for you—because you’re special—yes, I’m talking to you. Once it’s over, relocate to one of the five gaming areas for more fun, and don’t forget to get your goody bag full of toys and a special surprise. And now, since you didn’t come here to listen to me talk, let’s get on with the show.”
She picked up Sarah’s cupcake and started back across the ballroom. The stacked speakers roared with theatrical music. On the big screen, the emblem of Jacob’s company appeared briefly before fading.
The next image churned the bile in her stomach. She stopped and looked around the room, but everyone else was looking at the screen.
The camera zoomed in on her animated face, with red eyes and black pupils to match the avatar’s armor. Two-inch fangs emerged. The animated face that looked just like her hissed like a snake, then ducked in time to avoid double-sided blades slicing through the air where her head had been.
Rachelle couldn’t breathe or take her eyes off the screen.
The she-warrior raced up the side of buildings and over rooftops, brutally killing everything in her path while being pursued by a handsome warrior who looked like Larson.
Seconds passed, and the warrior gained ground, getting closer and closer.
Jumping off a roof, the female avatar crashed through an open window and ran for the stairs barely making it through the door before an arrow whizzed past her head.
She turned to face the Larson lookalike.
Although the image looked nothing like her father, the years of feeling trapped, oppressed, never being able to escape, triggered an ingrained fear.
Her heart pounded. She couldn’t breathe. Then the deathblow came, beheading her red-eyed lookalike.
For a second the conference ro
om was absolutely silent. Then it happened. Her red-eyed lookalike’s head tilted and rolled off her shoulders to hit the ground.
Cheers and whoops and applause came from all four corners of the room.
Her stomach lurched and the bile rose into her throat.
Leave. Now.
The cupcake forgotten, she ran to the sign-in table, grabbed her purse, and kept running until she made it through the hotel entrance doors.
Her lungs burned.
She fought for air.
Someone called her name. Just keep walking. Don’t look back.
“Rachelle!” Someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Are you okay?”
Ross. It’s okay. Don’t scream.
“I need to leave.”
“Okay. I’ll take you back to Jacob’s place. My car is in the hotel garage.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m going to the airport.” She plastered her purse to her chest like a shield to ward off an enemy and raised her hand to signal the next waiting taxi.
“What about your stuff?”
“I don’t need it.”
Not willing to wait, she briskly walked down the long drive. She raised her hand again. “Taxi?” Please. Please. Please. Get me out of here.
“Just give me a minute, and I’ll drive you to the airport if it’s where you want to go.” Ross touched her arm, but she yanked away. “Rachelle, you have to know already that the stunt wasn’t Jacob’s doing.”
She wanted to put her hands over her ears, but she opened the back door of the taxi instead.
“It was Larson.”
She nodded. “I know. It doesn’t make a difference. I don’t need any more drama in my life. I don’t need this.” She got in the taxi and reached for the door. “Please, tell Ben I’m sorry. He’ll have to find a new designer for the house. I can’t do it. And tell Jacob…tell him I’m sorry too.”
She closed the door and pounded on the back of the front seat. “Please go. I need to get to the airport.”
A debit card and a few twenties were all she had, but hopefully there was enough in her bank account for a ticket. If not, she’d have to think of something else. She was good at solving other people’s problems, just not her own.
In the taxi’s rearview mirror, she noticed the tears carving trails in her foundation and the cabbie’s sympathetic eyes. She looked away, because she didn’t care. Not anymore.
Her father had convinced her she couldn’t make it alone in the world.
Maybe that’s why she stayed with him.
Fear of the unknown.
She needed to stop blaming her father for her life. Because of him, she was stronger. Self-reliant. She wasn’t afraid anymore.
But he was right.
There was no one to help.
She was alone.
She would always be alone.
But she’d figure things out. If nothing else, she was a survivor, a she-warrior with impenetrable armor, battle-worn, but ready to fight.
Chapter Twenty
Jacob scanned the cheering crowd. The blonde racing toward the exit pierced his heart until rage kicked aside the hurt.
He promised to protect her, but it never occurred to him that he’d need to shield her from his best friend.
His hands balled into fists while a forced friendly smile fell into place.
The kids.
He needed to protect the kids.
“Wow, that clip was certainly not what I expected, but I hope you’ve enjoyed your time here today. Now it's playtime, so sign up for a playtime at one of the play station setups around the room and have a great time. And don’t forget to pick up your goody bags on your way out.”
He waved a salute and stalked off the stage to find Larson.
Fury honed and sharpened his senses. He caught sight of Larson and Etch just as they opened the employee exit door. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not getting away—not this time.” He took off running, hitting the exit bar with a blast of energy. “Larson!”
Larson lurched sideways as he looked over his shoulder, then turned, throwing his arm around Etch’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall on his face. “Hey, buddy. Great job in there.”
“Why? Why did you do it? Why did you change the program?” Jacob stopped an arm's length away from his partner to calm his urge to punch him.
Larson shrugged, but his feet kept walking backwards. “Dude, it was just a joke.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” Jacob followed keeping the pace. “This wasn’t about you just having a little fun—admit it.”
Etch stepped forward. “Jacob, come on, take it easy.”
“Not this time.” Disgusted, he swallowed the rage while watching Larson struggle to stay vertical. “You promised to stay off drugs.”
Larson licked his lips. “Okay. Okay. I’ll stop. I promise.”
Jacob snorted. “You couldn’t stop now even if you wanted to. You’re throwing away everything we worked so hard to achieve.”
“Naw, man,” Larson staggered backward another step. “I’m cool.”
“Right. You missed the investor meeting, the design meeting, and now this.”
“That bitch had it coming.” Spittle spewed out of his mouth as his face reddened. “I’m the designer. Me.” He pounded on his chest with his palm. “I make the game designs.”
Jacob opened his mouth. Closed it again, shaking his head. “You’re jealous.”
“Am not.”
“I can see it in your face. You’re jealous because I used her designs at the meeting and shared them with the team.”
“I design the games. That’s what we decided. It’s always been you and me against the world. Just you and me. We make the games.”
Envy loosed on a rampage by drug use was what this vindictive behavior was about. Larson didn’t like knowing someone else was important in Jacob’s life. He wanted Jacob to himself. “Is that why you didn’t show for the investor meeting—because I was bringing Rachelle and using her designs?”
“It was our meeting.”
“Yeah, it was, but you didn’t put together the designs we needed. You were too busy partying. We agreed on the deadline. You missed it.”
“I was getting there.” He scratched his chin and squinted against the light. “You should have waited for me.”
“I couldn’t wait, and the investors certainly didn’t need to wait. Plus, I’m not waiting any longer. In fact, I bet you haven’t even started the designs. Am I right?”
Larson attempted to flip him the finger, but he didn’t have muscle control and couldn’t get his fingers to cooperate.
“According to our corporate agreement we signed,” Jacob’s throat tightened, and he swallowed back his heart’s resistance, “if you started using again, you’d be out.”
Larson staggered closer to Jacob, weaving, but his bloodshot, glassy eyes intent. “You wouldn’t do that. We’re buddies.”
“Fine. You check into a clinic today, and we’ll talk about next steps.”
“Fuck you, man.” Larson shoved Jacob back, then pointed a finger at him. “Fuck you!”
Jacob shook his head. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself again. I can’t. You either get on a plane and check yourself into rehab, or I’ll set up a new company, and you and I will no longer be partners.” He studied Etch. “The same goes, Etch. I’ll pay for you to go into rehab, on the condition you and Larson don’t go to the same place. If you don’t, you’re off the team.”
Etch bit her lip but remained silent.
“I’m sick of you being all high and mighty. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Jacob’s heart ached. “You’re right. I can’t protect you anymore.”
“Come on, Etch,” Larson reached for the woman who barely reached his shoulder. “Let’s go party.”
“Etch,” Jacob added a stiff warning to her name. “You need to make a choice now. If you walk out the door, you won’t have a job, and I won’t be able to help you.”
/> Etch shifted back and forth.
“Don’t listen to him,” Larson tightened his arm around Etch’s shoulder and turned her toward the exit.
“Etch?” Jacob pleaded. “Don’t.”
Etch ducked under Larson’s arm. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be your party girl. You love the drugs more than you love me.” She ran a hand down Larson’s face. “Take Jacob’s offer. We can get clean. Be together.”
“No.” Larson shoved her to the ground.
Jacob stepped forward, but he stopped when she waved him off. “I’m good.”
But she wasn't good. He could see the tears pooling in her eyes. She shoved to her feet. “I love you, Larson. Since the first day we worked together, I’ve believed you’re my soul mate. But the drugs have turned you into someone I can’t reach or understand.”
“The drugs help us create.” Larson brushed away her explanation like a crumb on his shirt.
“No they don’t. Drugs make our minds numb, dull. Have you looked at the stuff we’ve done lately? It’s crap.”
“Phst. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He didn’t care about her. He didn’t care about anything—not anymore.
Jacob stepped between Etch and his buddy. “Come on. I’ll call Courtney, and we’ll get you on a plane.”
Larson tunneled fingers through his unwashed hair. “You don’t own me. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Rage engulfed Jacob. He couldn’t help Larson. Not this time. The drugs had taken control, and the only thing Larson could feel was the need for more drugs. He’d lost. Lost his business partner. Lost his friend. Lost the ability to care anymore.
“Okay. You’ve made your choice.” Jacob took a resolute step back. “Take care, Larson.”
Jacob turned and took a couple of steps toward the ballroom, then looked back over his shoulder. “Etch, are you coming?”
She gazed at Larson for a long moment, then slumped, tears tracking down her face. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
She shuffled along the long, tiled hallway littered with laundry and kitchen carts.
Jacob held the door open for her.
She stopped halfway through the door. “I do love him, you know.”
Jacob’s heart fought against his mind’s decision to be apathetic. “We both love him, but we can’t help him. He has to want to help himself.”
