by Colet Abedi
“Mad? How can they?” I ask in confusion. “Clayton threw the first punch.”
I mean, I hate to say it, but it’s the truth.
“Mad because the hotel security guard pushed you, which caused you to fall, hit your head, get bruised, and possibly suffer from concussion.”
“Oh, God.” I close my eyes in misery. “Do I have CTE now?”
“Bite your tongue,” Orie chides. “Girl, you should have seen Clayton’s face and the guttural roar he let out when you were unresponsive at first. It was like he was possessed by a hundred crazy animals or something.”
“Really?” I ask breathlessly.
Orie rolls his eyes. I don’t blame him. But still.
“He freaked out,” Orie goes on. “Like legit. And let me tell you something. My man? I am so goddamn impressed and turned on by him at the same time. He went just as bat shit crazy as Clayton. The two of them went at the security guard. I went to you or I’d have been arrested as well.”
Wow. I missed a whole lot of action.
“Davis?” I ask.
“No idea,” Orie shakes his head.
I stare at him for a beat.
“Orie?”
“Yes, babe,” he says.
“Do you think I’m prone to disaster?” It’s a serious question.
Orie takes his time before responding.
“I don’t know if I should answer that,” he finally says.
“So, yes,” I say to him. “The answer is yes.”
“Maybe.”
Great.
“Well, we’ve gotta go see what we can do to help them,” I tell him.
Orie holds his hand up.
“First, I have some bad news.”
“I thought I just heard the bad news?” I ask in horror.
“There’s more.”
My heart sinks.
“I have a blood clot,” I whisper in dread.
Orie lets out a breath and rolls his eyes.
“Now I know how you and Erik are friends. You guys are both so dramatic!”
“Tell me,” I say. “I can handle it.”
“The doctors called your parents when you were brought in.”
Oh. My. God.
The blood drains from my face. I feel nauseated. I want to throw up. I want to run away fast before my dad gets here. He’s going to kill me.
My mom. I can’t even think about what my mom is going to do.
Holy shit.
My life is over.
“It’s not that bad.” Orie tries to make it sounds like we’re discussing the weather.
I stare at him with round eyes.
“Okay,” he concedes. “It’s really bad. Like fucking awful. God-awful. The doctors said that since you’re American and single and they are your next of kin, they had to call. Now you might have to run away or something.”
I slowly lean back down on the bed. I forget about Clayton and Erik being incarcerated. Right now, that actually doesn’t seem too bad compared to the shit storm that I’m about to face.
“I can’t breathe,” I whisper.
“I know,” Orie says.
“I lied and told them I was still in France,” I say in a small voice.
Orie is silent.
“I’m dead,” I say.
“You are,” Orie agrees.
And then my stomach falls through the floor and sinks down into Middle Earth.
“Are they on their way here?” I gasp.
Silence.
“Soon,” Orie finally says. “But they’ve got to find tickets. The time difference is working for you because it’s way early morning in LA.”
“I want to die!” I practically screech.
“I tried to tell them you were okay but because your dad couldn’t talk to you he didn’t believe me,” Orie rushes out. “He is so fucking pissed at Erik and me. He let me have it—”
“When did you talk to him?” I ask.
“Like forty-five minutes ago, after the doctors spoke to them.”
“Give me the phone!” I pant. “I need to stop them.”
Orie can tell how serious I am. He hands me his cell phone.
“The call’s on me,” he says.
I almost laugh. But then I dial my dad’s number.
It barely even rings once.
“Orie?” My dad’s strong voice echoes through the phone. “We’re packing now and my secretary is looking for flights.”
He sounds worried and it makes me feel terrible.
“Daddy?” My voice sounds like a shell of itself.
Silence.
Then—
“Sophie Elizabeth Walker!” he yells.
Literally. Yells.
“I’m okay.” I state the obvious then ramble on. “It was a total accident. The bartender shoved me into a table but I’m completely fine.”
“Don’t you lie to me, young lady.” my dad says sharply. “Your boyfriend was picking a bar fight.”
I look up at the ceiling.
God, if there is any time to just cut my life short, now totally works.
“Dad—” I begin slowly.
“Don’t you dad me!” he roars through the phone. I hold it away from my ear.
“You lied to us!” he continues. “You lied about where you were going, who you were with—about everything. Did you even lie about getting a job, Sophie?!”
Orie stares at me in fear.
“Of course not!” I say back. “I was at the wedding to paint a portrait, and things got cancelled because someone passed away, and then things changed and—”
“You ran off with a man?”
I know this voice. This is my dad’s ‘I’m going to go to town and kick your ass in court’ tone. I am so dead.
“It’s not like that,” I finally say. “Clayton’s—”
My dad fills in the blank. “A man who gets arrested for punching people.”
Oh. My. God.
How does he know this?
“Daddy?” I don’t even know what to say.
“Sophie,” he says in a dangerous voice. “Your mother is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. You almost gave me a heart attack tonight. And more than anything, I’m just so, so disappointed that you lied to me. I know what time it is in Switzerland. You will go straight to bed and call me in the morning from the Alpina and let me know what flight you’ll be on.”
Crap.
“Do you understand me?” he says.
“Yes, daddy.” I feel like I’m a five-year-old again.
“And Sophie?” he continues.
“Yes?” My voice can barely even carry.
“When I call in the morning, you’d better have your own room. Use the emergency credit card. And be aware, young lady, that I might call periodically during the night to see that you are in a hotel room that I am paying for. And that you’re alone.”
I can hear my mom shrieking in the background. Lord only knows what she’s saying.
My face is four hundred different shades of red. I am sure of it. How embarrassing!
“Daddy, ” I try again, “please let me explain.”
“I don’t have the heart to listen right now,” he says. “I’ll speak to you in the morning.”
He hangs up.
I stare at Orie.
My life is over.
19
I did listen to my dad.
I was actually deathly afraid that he would fulfill his promise and call a hundred times. When the doctor was ready to release me, Orie drove with me back to the hotel, helped me get a new room and then went to the police station to deal with the situation alone. He said that after the fall I had, the only thing I should do was rest. And since there was no way I could handle going to jail to see Clayton and Erik, I took him up on his offer. To be honest, they had injected me with some painkillers that were flowing through my veins, making it virtually impossible for me to stand u
p straight without closing my eyes. He promised he would text me when they got out.
I texted Clayton and let him know that I changed rooms and that I was doing this because of my parents. I knew he probably didn’t have his phone yet but when he checked at least the message would be there. Since Orie was aware of the whole story, I left it at that. I was sure he would fill him in. By the time my stuff was in the significantly smaller room, I could barely even stand. I threw myself on top of the bed, the medicine kicked in, and I completely passed out.
I’m having an incredible dream.
Clayton’s in my room and is undressing me, slowly making love to my body and waking me up from my deep sleep. I don’t realize that I’m not dreaming until I feel his strong hands grip my thighs and lick me awake.
I lean up on my elbows and stare down at him, my eyes barely open.
“You’re here,” I whisper.
He doesn’t speak.
Instead he brings me to a quick orgasm, using his fingers and mouth, and before I can even utter his name, he kneels, pulls me up, and thrusts into me.
The pleasure is so intense. It’s everything and more.
“Clayton!” I call out.
His mouth nips at my neck. He’s mad with passion and something else.
“You belong to me!” he whispers in my ear.
I can’t stop the moan when he pulls out.
“Say it, Sophie,” he commands.
I pull his lips to mine. Crush them with a kiss that speaks to all my longing for him.
“I’m yours,” I tell him.
The sun shines bright in the room. I forget where I am. For a second I think I’m back home in Los Angeles but the tan, masculine arm draped around my waist brings me back to reality.
The situation I’m in washes over me like a tidal wave.
Shit.
My parents.
“They know!” I whisper in horror as my eyes pop open and I contemplate all the scenarios that await me.
Clayton’s arm pulls me close to his body.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers in a groggy voice.
Sleep?
Is he crazy?
I move out of his strong grip and get out of the bed. I find a T-shirt to slip on over my naked body. When I turn around, Clayton is on his elbow watching me.
His face goes from sleepy to angry. He sits up quickly.
“Come here!” he orders.
“What?” I say, not comprehending.
“I’m going to kill them,” he says. He throws the cover back and gets up, naked, and strides over to me.
God. His body.
Before I even have a moment to blush he gently lifts my chin so he can study my face.
It’s at that moment that I remember I slammed it into the table the night before. Just like that, the pain comes back in full force.
I wince. His gaze goes from being tender to looking even more furious than before.
“Does it hurt?” His voice is almost strangled.
“No,” I lie unconvincingly. “It’s okay, I promise.”
He doesn’t believe me.
“It will be once I take an Advil or two,” I say.
Or four.
I place my fingers on the cut on his lip.
“Are you okay?” I ask in concern.
“Fine,” he brushes my question off.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to jail to visit—” I begin.
That actually makes Clayton smile.
“Words I never thought I’d hear,” he tells me.
“Orie wouldn’t let me,” I explain, “and the pain meds they gave me—”
“Sophie,” Clayton says. “If I had seen you like this at the police station I would have gone crazy and without a doubt I’d still be incarcerated. You’re lucky it was too dark for me to see your injury when I came in the room last night.”
“Clayton, is it all resolved?”
“I’m in the process of pressing charges against the security at the hotel.”
“Are you crazy?” I ask him.
“He pushed you,” Clayton says. “That is not allowed.”
“Clayton,” I begin, “I don’t want the man to get in trouble. He thought he was doing his job.”
Granted, he was a little rough, but maybe I would have been too given the circumstances.
“Don’t,” he says sharply.
I try to talk but his look silences me.
“You will let me take care of this.”
Clearly, there is no use arguing with him.
“How did you get my room key?” I ask him.
He gives me a look.
Right. Because you’re you.
“I had to get my own room,” I explain even though I texted him as much.
“Orie told me everything,” he says.
“My dad wants me on a flight home today,” I tell him.
“And you?” he asks me. “What do you want?”
To stay with you forever, but we both know that’s a losing battle.
“I’m torn,” I say honestly.
I can’t read his face and wonder what he’s thinking.
Before either of us can say any more, Clayton’s cell phone rings. He walks away from me and picks it up.
“Do you have news?” he says quietly.
Whoever he talks to on the other end gives him a mouthful. He runs a shaky hand through his thick hair and turns to stare at me. I watch how his eyes narrow when they sweep over my face.
“I’ll be there,” he says ominously before he hangs up.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“My lawyer,” he tells me. “I have to meet him downstairs. I’ll call you after.”
He dresses quickly and walks over to me.
“Don’t do anything until we talk,” he says as he leans down and kisses me gently on the lips.
He leaves the room.
Now might be a good time to look at your face, Sophie, I think to myself. It’s clearly a disaster zone. I gather the courage and walk into the bathroom.
Thankfully I’m alone.
Arghh! I look like I got into a real honest to goodness fight! And no one even threw a punch at me. I hit a table!
A dark, black, hideous bruise covers half my lower right cheek and jawline, and my eyes are way too bright. That I know must be because of the meds I took the night before.
“I look crazy,” I whisper in horror as I pull back my hair to study the damage more closely.
Before I start thinking about what I’m going to do and panicking about whether or not my face will return to normal the phone in the room rings.
I have no doubt who it is.
I walk over to the bed and sit down to pick it up.
“Dad?”
“I’m happy you listened to at least one thing I said,” he tells me.
I look over at the crumpled sheets and blush when I think about the passionate night I had with Clayton. I am so happy for the distance from my father.
“Sophie,” my dad begins to speak, but his voice breaks. “I’m so worried about you.”
In that moment, my heart breaks, too.
This is my dad. My hero. The man who’s always fixed everything in my life, who was there when anything was wrong.
“Talk to me,” he says.
And I do.
I tell my dad everything. About the Maldives, about my job in France, about Clayton’s brother. I leave the intimate parts out, but my dad is smart enough to know. I just put it all out there. Even about my insecurities, about my love for Clayton and my fear of the unknown. And the relief I feel is staggering.
When I’m finished, I’m in tears.
“What do you want to do, baby?” he asks me after a long minute.
I’m shocked. I was expecting him to weigh in, to unleash that side of him that always argues for what’s the logical thing to do, and I don’t know what to say.
/> “I don’t know, dad.” Then I say softly, “What do you think?”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” he says in a voice filled with love. “But I’m going to tell you what I know about the beautiful daughter I raised.”
I swallow a few more tears.
“My Sophie is strong. Is capable. Is brilliant. She’s the best of the best. And she doesn’t wait for any man or anything to dictate how she lives her life. She’s fearless. A fighter. She’s passionate. And kind. She is everything a man could want in life, but the beauty is, that doesn’t define her,” my dad says with love. “She is her own woman. She was raised to stand on her own two feet and make decisions for herself. To know the difference between right and wrong. To follow her heart but to know when the journey has come to an end. My Sophie is a warrior.”
My Sophie is a warrior.
My dad’s words echoed through my mind and heart for the next few hours. He was incredible. After our long talk, he told me that he trusted me and that he knew he had raised me to make the right decision.
But the responsibility of making the decision on my own weighed on me. All I wanted was to make the right choice.
Now I’m in the restaurant at the Alpina with Erik and Orie. I’m happy to see that Erik doesn’t have a scar or blemish on his body (as far as I can tell) and he seems exhilarated by the night’s experience.
I really don’t understand men.
“I have a man crush on Clayton,” Erik tells me candidly.
I smile.
“Orie’s totally fine with it,” Erik waves at him. “Because he does, too.”
“That’s nice,” I say with a laugh. “Is it because he can throw down?”
“Yeah,” Erik nods. “And not only that but he dresses fucking unbelievably and is rich as shit and looks like a supermodel. I get it. He has that dark brooding thing going for him, which is a plus in my books.”
“Totally agree,” Orie says nodding.
“Great,” I say. “But where does that leave me?”
Erik takes a moment.
“You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” I ask.
“That this guy is head over heels in love with you,” he says.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I tell him. “But he’s actually never told me that. And to be honest, he’s so commitment-phobic that I don’t think he’s ever going to be capable of it.”
