A piece of folded paper hung off the edge of the table. Intrigued, amused, and completely unsure whether to be delighted or outraged at the profligate amount of food, Sandra opened the note and read it.
Again, I find myself not knowing what you like best.
So, I had everything brought up, in hopes you see something you like.
Maybe it can make up for the dinner we missed.
Brandon.
Sandra smiled, tucking the note into the pocket of her robe. She’d keep all the notes he wrote as mementos, she decided. Then, she sat down at the table to begin the most satiating breakfast of her life.
Brandon came back later that day, surprising Sandra in the shower. When they emerged more than an hour later, Sandra discovered a new outfit spread on the bed: jeans and a blouse, but both much more expensive than anything she owned. Brandon smiled and told her Clarisse had picked then out for her. Sandra tried to protest. She insisted again on returning the clothes from that first shopping trip, but Brandon told her everything had already been packed in his car and was on its way to Ocean Shores. Sandra could see no way to argue with those logistics.
They walked to the marina, which was only a few minutes away. Brandon’s yacht was the most impressive of its size. There were bigger boats there, of course, but VEGA had a sleek elegance to it, much like his Ferrari.
“Why’d you name it VEGA?” Sandra asked as she stepped up the gangplank.
“Her,” Brandon corrected. “I named her VEGA after the star. Vega is the brightest star of the constellation Lyra, and the fourth brightest star in the northern hemisphere. VEGA was specially designed and built for me. It was the fourth most expensive yacht commissioned in the Arzana Navi shipyard.” His eyes glimmered with unspoken pride. “I’d wanted a yacht like her for a very long time, and I thought VEGA an appropriate name.”
“I like it,” Sandra said, before climbing up into the captain’s quarters.
Later, somewhere in the pristine waters that seemed far past the reaches of civilization, Brandon turned the engine off and stifled a yawn. “I’m going to go downstairs and take a nap for a bit,” he told her. “You won’t get bored without me, will you?”
Sandra peaked up from the book she was reading on her Kindle and gave him a smile. “I think I can take care of myself.”
“In case a storm hits, you know how to steer,” Brandon winked. Sandra’s eyes widened in horror at the prospect, but Brandon laughed and kissed her on the forehead. “Wake me in an hour, will you?”
Forty minutes later, Sandra finished the final chapter of the book, set her reader down, and stretched her arms. A faint rain had started outside. She went out to the bow, filling her lungs with the fresh, clean scent of the ocean. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, just staring out at the beautiful water, before she heard Brandon’s voice behind her.
“Sandra? I was wondering where you went. What are you doing out here?”
She turned, and found Brandon leaning forward with arms outstretched above his head on the doorframe. He’d changed into a black tank top for his nap, and the long fibers of his muscles flexed and danced as he swung back and forth. His wavy hair was all matted, taking the shape of the pillow he’d dozed on.
“I like the feeling of water on my skin,” she told him, taking a deep, invigorating breath. A light drizzle pattered against the deck from the gray sky overhead, mixing with the salty spray of the sea. Sandra brought her tongue out to taste her lips. “It reminds me of my childhood.”
“Does it?” Brandon raised an eyebrow. “You never told me about your childhood.”
“I never talk about it with most people,” Sandra explained. But then, she felt an unexpected braveness blossom within her. “But, for some reason, I feel like I can, with you.”
“Of course you can.” Brandon stepped out into the rain. He came up to her, wrapped both arms around her waist, and nuzzled on her neck. “You can tell me anything.”
Sandra let the wind carry her hair into his face. With Brandon’s warm body pressed up against hers, she decided that love was very much within reach. Real love—not the type she pretended with Henry. “I don’t talk about it because my older sister died when I was a little girl.” She hadn’t said those words to anyone in over two years. But what came next, she hadn’t said to anyone, ever. “I saw her die. And, almost every night since then, I see the same thing in my dreams.”
“Your nightmares,” Brandon said slowly. He turned her around to look her in the eye. “Sandra, I had no idea. When you told me about them this morning…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I’m sorry. How did she die?”
“It happened at a house party,” Sandra said. It felt… strangely liberating to speak of Chloe’s death to a living, breathing person. Somehow, Brandon had gained more of her trust in three days than anybody else had in her whole lifetime. “My sister broke curfew to go there. I saw her leaving our house. I didn’t want her to get in trouble, so I didn’t tell my parents. Instead, I sneaked out to follow her. I went to bring her home.” She took a deep breath. “But I couldn’t. I failed her. When I got to the party, there were so many people, and everyone was so much older than me. I pushed through, and saw my sister disappear through a doorway. Before I could reach her, there was an explosion in the basement. Most of the people got out, but my sister wasn’t so lucky—what, what is it?” Sandra stopped mid-sentence, perplexed at Brandon’s expression.
A ghostly look crossed Brandon’s face when she mentioned the explosion. “What was your sister’s name?”
“Chloe.” For a split-second, Sandra saw something very much like fear flare in Brandon’s eyes. “Brandon, are you alright?”
“Fine,” he said, but his ragged voice betrayed the lie. “How old were you when it happened?”
“I was nine. Chloe was sixteen.” Sandra peered deeply at Brandon. There was no doubt in her mind he’d become uneasy. He didn’t meet her eyes. “Brandon, is something wrong?”
He blinked a few times before answering. When he looked back at her, it was as if he were seeing her as an entirely new person. “I’m… so very sorry for your loss,” he whispered. “I… I heard about the fire. Sixteen years ago? In Chicago?” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was all over the news. ‘The Fire That Destroyed a Neighborhood,’ as one of the newspapers called it. I just never… never expected it to involve you.”
“You know about it?”
Brandon nodded. “Yes. I don’t think anybody who lived in Chicago at the time doesn’t. So that… that’s what you see in your nightmares? That’s why you don’t sleep in?”
“That’s why I can’t sleep in,” she corrected. “At least, not before I met you.” She stood on her toes, the rain sending drops down into her eyes. She blinked them all away and placed a soft kiss on Brandon’s lips. “You did something special, Brandon. I don’t know what, and I don’t know how, but I hope that it lasts forever.”
“Forever?” Brandon repeated, distant. Sandra flinched immediately.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! She knew the surest way to scare off a man was to make a boneheaded pronouncement like that. She had no idea what had possessed her to say it. Idiot!
But Brandon surprised her when he tilted his head down and pressed his lips to her forehead. It was such a sweet gesture that it gave Sandra goose bumps.
“Yes,” he murmured as he nuzzled his nose in her hair. “Forever sounds like just the right amount of time.”
Sandra’s mouth dropped open, and her heart filled with unimaginable warmth. Before she could say anything, Brandon let her go and walked back to the salon. As he ducked in, he looked over one shoulder. “You said your sister Chloe died inside the house. You saw her there. But how did you get out?”
“Somebody picked me up and carried me out,” Sandra said. “A man. I never found out who. For so long, I hated him for sparing my life instead of my sister’s. But, if he hadn’t,” she smiled, “I wouldn’t have met you.”
Brandon nodd
ed, barely seeming to hear. “We’ll be at Ocean Shores in about forty minutes,” he said as he stared out into the distance. “I’ll be inside till then.”
Sandra could tell his mind was elsewhere.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brandon stared out at the horizon as he steered VEGA toward Ocean Shores. His hands moved of their own accord as his mind wandered. His head felt as if it were stuffed full of straw.
Just one weekend with Sandra, and he suspected he might be falling for her. He knew it was fast, but he recognized the feelings from what Clarisse evoked in him long ago. He had to be cautious. Yet there was something so refreshing about Sandra’s unspoiled innocence, about the way she’d responded to him sexually all weekend. It was like everything they did together was new to her.
It made sense, based on what he knew about her ex. Someone so insipid could not have taken her very far sensually. And before Henry, Sandra would have been a teenager—still a child, really, and unlikely to have been in tune with her own body. It was no wonder the heights he took her to would be new. When she reached them, she’d been so astoundingly vibrant…
Unrestrained. That was it. From the first moment he’d met her, Brandon had felt like Sandra was holding herself back. Like she was bound by something, restricting herself because of something in her past. Clarisse’s impression had echoed his own. But in bed, in her radiant afterglow, Sandra was free. Brandon wanted to instill that freedom on her always.
That was just the physical aspect, of course. While Sandra and Clarisse were two very different people, they both had that same intellect that Brandon found lacking in his usual women. Sandra had depth, character, and substance. In a very short time, she had proved she was exactly what he’d expected
But today’s revelation changed everything.
He could see Sandra now, at the railing below, looking out over the water. He wondered what she was thinking about. Her hair streamed back in the wind, and she shifted slightly, giving him a quick glimpse of her face. That look was enough to cement everything. There was no doubt in his mind anymore. He knew why she looked so familiar.
Sandra’s story had put all the pieces in place. Brandon denied the implication at first, but he hadn’t gotten far in life by lying to himself. The truth was vital. Right now, the truth terrified him.
His eyes clouded over as he sank into the dark recollection of a night long past. A night whose memory had been seared into his mind forever. It was the night that changed everything for him: the night he became responsible for a living person’s death.
Music blared all around him, but he was used to it. This wasn’t the first house party he’d crashed.
Brandon stood on the sidelines, observing everyone else having a good time. There must have been at least a hundred people crammed into the tight space, maybe more. He could understand how it might be intimidating if you weren’t used to it.
With so many bodies in one place, and the alcohol flowing, the crowd was boisterous. He looked out over the heads, watching people move in what little space they could carve out for themselves. He saw girls dancing with guys, guys grabbing girls, couples making out along the walls… Everybody crowded the closely packed dance floor. A roar went up from the middle as some guy chugged a six-pack of beers through a funnel.
Brandon stood taller, trying to reach a stream of cool air. The heat from all the bodies bothered him more than anything right now. It’d be no problem if he were part of the swarm, as he was most nights—but tonight, he was here on business.
Today was the day Brandon moved past small time dealing. Anybody with half a brain could make a few extra bucks selling pot on the weekends. And while Brandon had made quite a bit more than that over the last two years, it was time to move to more lucrative merchandise. He was seventeen, and living with his grandparents after leaving his real family behind. He knew time was running short before he graduated high school, and he had to find out now if he had what it took to get to the big leagues. That was where the real payoff lay. It took skill and savvy to move up to that, but Brandon thought himself capable enough to succeed. He’d made enough money to pay for college, but he still needed more. He’d left his family behind, but he hadn’t forgotten them, and he knew how tight money was for his brothers and sisters. If he could just free them from those shackles…
Sweat trickled down his neck, and Brandon knew if he didn’t get a breath of fresh air soon, it would turn into a flood. The sweltering air made staying calm, collected, and sober all the more difficult. But he knew how vital having a cool head was. He had to be completely lucid to make smart business decisions. And so, hard as it was, he stayed on the sidelines, knowing he couldn’t engage with people as he regularly would—because he had to appear available for anyone looking for him.
But he couldn’t look like he was brooding or distant, either. He had to tread a delicate middle ground.
He turned his head and looked back out over the party. Flashing colors pulsed from the haphazard strobe lights arranged around the room, painfully out of sync with the song. But hell, what else would you expect from an amateur house party? Brandon knew if he had a nice buzz going, and dancing girls crowding all around him, the beat of the lights would be the least of his worries.
He looked around the room. On the far side, an open set of stairs led up to the second floor. Beside it, a heavy door marked the entrance to the basement. Both were guarded by a guy covered in tattoos, long, dark hair streaming to his waist. He had a skinny, intimidating biker look. He must have been at least ten years older than most of the people here.
Upstairs was where the real party was happening. Brandon knew, because that’s where he’d been at the start of the night. The owner of the house kept a low profile, but he and his friends brought the girls they picked out from the crowd on the first floor.
It was also where Brandon had met his first real distributor.
The basement of the house reflected the owner’s real business. Brandon hadn’t been allowed down there, but he suspected it was some kind of lab. This was a fairly affluent neighborhood. The perfect place to hide something like that.
“Hey.” Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Brandon turned around to find a pretty brunette, about his age, looking up at him together with a dark-haired friend. He thought he recognized the first girl from his school’s hallways, but didn’t know her name. “Hey, you’re Brandon, right?”
He gave her his most winning smile. “That’s right.”
“Brandon Galliani?”
He leaned one arm against the wall, doing his best to look casual, unimpressed. “Right again.”
The girl’s eyes widened. She grabbed her friend, and whispered something furiously in her ear. Her friend whispered back, shaking her head and trying to tug the brunette away, but she stood firm. “We heard you know of a… source,” she said, pulling away from her friend.
“I might.” Brandon beckoned them to step back to a quieter area. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“I am,” the girl announced. “And my friend.”
“And you’re looking for a source for who?”
“For us.”
Brandon nodded. “Alright. Do you know what you want?”
The brunette glanced at her friend and giggled, eyes eager. “We want to party!”
Brandon changed his mind. The girl wasn’t his age. She was younger. “I can help with that. What do you have in mind?”
“Um. Here.” She dug into her pocket, and handed him two crumpled twenties and a ten. “That’s fifty bucks. It should be enough, right?”
“Again, it depends on what.” Brandon frowned. “It’s for the two of you?”
The dark-haired girl started to shake her head, but the brunette overrode her. “Yeah. Exactly. So, can you hook us up, or what?”
“Well, I have this.” Brandon reached into his jeans pocket and took out a little bag of weed. “Fifty bucks is enough for the whole thing. It’ll last you a week if you toke every day. Bu
t, if you want to try something really cool…” Brandon took out a small, clear plastic box that used to house a signet ring. He motioned for the girl to come closer, and brought it up to her face so she could look inside. A white rock, about the size of a pencil eraser, lay on the bottom plastic.
“What is that?”
Brandon smiled. “That’s the good stuff. Cola.”
If he thought the girl’s eyes went wide before, he had been mistaken. Now, they opened up to twice their size. “Cocaine…” she breathed reverently. With an excited squeal, she turned back to confer with her friend. Brandon stayed back and let them talk. The way the brunette responded, he knew he had this sale in the bag. All he had to do was not fuck it up.
The dark-haired girl seemed even more aghast at the prospect of buying coke. Some type of argument erupted between the girls. The raven-haired friend kept shaking her head. Her gestures became wilder and wilder. But Brandon wasn’t worried. He saw the way the brunette’s eyes had lit up when he showed her the small rock. He had her hook, line, and sinker.
Her friend, however, was a different story. In the end, she threw up her hands, spared an evil glance at Brandon, and stormed off.
The brunette turned back to him, then, an apologetic smile playing on her lips. She ran a hand through her hair, straightening it. “Sorry you had to see that.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Of course.” The girl shrugged. “Melissa will come around. She always does.”
“So, have you decided, then?”
“Yeah.” She spared a dismissive glance at the bit of marijuana in Brandon’s hand. “I don’t want that kiddy shit. I want the grown up stuff.”
“You want to party.” Brandon smiled. “Good choice.”
“Well, I already gave you the money, so…” she reached over for the little plastic container, but Brandon tugged it away.
“That stuff’s not cheap,” Brandon said.
“I gave you fifty bucks!”
“But you need enough for one night, right? For the two of you? Assuming your friend still wants in?”
Yours to Savor Page 21
