Yours to Savor

by Scarlett Edwards

  “Oh, she definitely does.”

  “Then I’m going to need another fifty, at least.” He gave her a commiserating smile. This girl had no idea what the drug was worth, and if he played his cards right, he could milk a lot out of her. Not enough to be cruel, though. “You probably want a gram for enough lines for two people. That usually goes for one-thirty. But, for a pretty girl like you, I’m willing to cut the price. One hundred.”

  “Please,” the girl said. “That’s all I have.”

  Brandon closed his fist over the plastic box. “It’s not enough. This is high quality blow, not the shit you find on street corners. If you want to buy some crack, the guy over there looks like he could help…” Brandon nodded at the tattooed biker standing guard at the far doors, “…but if you really want to party, like you said, you’ll want my stuff.”

  He could see her mind working hard behind those pretty eyes. Then she stepped up to him, all sweet innocence. “Well, maybe there’s something else I can offer you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, you know…” she licked her lips, and suddenly her hand was pressing against his crotch. Blood rushed to his cock. All he knew was her hand rubbing up and down the fabric of his jeans. He took a breath to steady himself. Her scent filled him, the sweet perfume scrambling his brains and making him even harder. “Something… very special.”

  Stay calm, he told himself. Don’t do anything stupid to scare her off. Act cool! Still, he had to take a heavy swallow. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough. Now, do we have a deal, or not?”

  Brandon nodded gruffly. “Yeah.”

  She smiled, taking her hand away. “You have my fifty bucks. That’ll be the down payment. You give me the blow, and after, you can meet me in the bathroom.” She tossed her hair back. “I had my tongue pierced this week. You can be the first to tell me what it feels like.”

  Brandon groaned at the suggestion. The girl held out her hand.

  “Well? Pony up!”

  Brandon shook his head, trying hard not to focus on his growing erection. “What I showed you wasn’t it. That was a crack rock. Cocaine’s a powder. I have it upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?” the girl said, suddenly dubious.

  Brandon nodded. “You can come with me, or you can wait here.”

  She bit her lip, looked around, hesitating… and then spoke. “I’ll come.”

  “Good.” Brandon reached out to take her hand, and she gave it. He led her around the crowded dance floor, keeping to the walls. At the stairs, the skinny guard gave them a hard look. “I need to see Andrew,” Brandon said. After a moment, the guy nodded, and let them through.

  “Who’s Andrew?” the girl asked him about halfway up the stairs, where the music faded.

  “Andrew’s a friend. He owns the house. It’s his party down there.”

  The girl made an impressed sound in her throat, and Brandon smiled. He should get everything he was after, and more, from this girl.

  On the second floor, a long, quiet hallway extended from the staircase. All the doors on the sides were closed, but Brandon could hear faint voices behind them. A single light flickered at the far end of the hall.

  “You know, I swear I’ve seen you at school before,” Brandon said as he led the girl down the hall. He glanced back at her, getting a better look at her face in the light, and a spark of recognition burst in his head. “Wait. I saw you at the award ceremony last year. Didn’t you get the top GPA in your class?”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Please. As if.” But it was her, Brandon realized. Although she looked… different. Her hair was messier, her eyes darker, the makeup she wore now more striking. And he’d been right in his initial impression of her: she was a grade younger than he was. But if she didn’t want to be cast in that “good girl” stereotype tonight, he wasn’t going to push her.

  “Wait here,” Brandon said in front of a closed door. He knocked, and waited for an answer. When none came, he turned the knob and slipped inside. Brandon felt along the storage room wall for the light switch, found it, then knelt down by his backpack. Andrew had sold him an eight-ball for the wholesale price, divided into three little gram packets. Brandon picked one out, turned the light off, and left the room.

  The girl eyed him greedily outside. “Well?”

  “Here you go.” Brandon gave her the tinfoil packet. “And… here, you’ll need this, too.” He gave her a Ziploc with a clean razor, a short straw, and a tiny square mirror. “You’ll want to line up the lines along the length of the mirror. Make them half the width of the straw. And don’t do it all at once. Start off small, wait fifteen minutes, see how you feel. You don’t want to OD on the stuff your first time.”

  “Thanks.” When the girl reached to get the Ziploc from him, he realized her hands were trembling. Had she taken anything else tonight, or was she just nervous? Well, it didn’t matter to him, anyway. The deal was done. Or, halfway. She began to turn around, but Brandon stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Hey, hold on. Don’t think you can go without making good on your part of the agreement.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She stepped closer, looked up at him through those dark-rimmed eyes, and gave a seductive smile. “I like you. You’re hot. I just need to go find my friend… and then I’ll come back for you.”

  “Alright.” She twirled around and started down the hall. Before she reached the stairs, however, Brandon called out to her. “Wait! You never told me your name.”

  “I’m Chloe.”

  Chloe. Brandon closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. The coincidence was unbelievable. Yet, there it was. Nothing he did could change things now. He didn’t know the brunette’s last name then. But now he did: Hawthorne. Sandra’s older sister.

  Brandon let the girl go. He knew he might never see her again, especially after she’d made off with everything she’d been after. Something told him she’d come back. And even if she didn’t, he’d already charged her an exorbitant price for that little bit of coke.

  Brandon debated peeking into one of the rooms to see what Andrew and his friends were doing, but decided against it. He wasn’t part of their circle yet. And the night was still young; the allure of making more deals downstairs called to him like a siren.

  Brandon stopped at the bottom of the stairs to speak with some friends who’d just arrived, then returned to his spot at the edge of the crowd. He wondered if Chloe had found that other girl, Melissa, yet. He wasn’t worried about Chloe, not exactly, but he hoped she wouldn’t try snorting the entire gram by herself. As long as she shared, the amount he’d sold her shouldn’t be enough to harm her…

  Brandon shook his head. What she did with the cocaine was none of his concern. Hell, she could shoot it up straight into her arm and he’d still have made his tidy profit. It didn’t matter. The promised blowjob played on his mind, but business was more important. He resumed the air of the casual observer, scanning the crowd for anybody who looked interested in a high—

  A crash sounded from the other side of the house. The music cut out. Brandon’s head whipped toward the noise. When he realized where it had come from, his heart leapt into his throat.

  The basement.

  Confused protests came from the dance floor. Someone called out for the music to start again. A moment later, a second crash rocked the air, shaking the whole foundation.

  A girl screamed. A split second later somebody else took up the cry. Complete mayhem erupted in the crowd as a stampede of bodies fled for the exit.

  Brandon had no time to think. He threw himself into the stream. There was only one exit: the main doors. Brandon ran hard, pushing and shoving past bodies, self-preservation the only thing on his mind.

  His foot caught an edge. He tripped, fell, and somehow got spun around. He looked up from his knees. Through the tangle of legs, he spotted a little girl, far away from the entrance doors. She hung onto a doorknob with all her might to avoid getting swept up in the pandemo
nium. Nobody saw her in their mad rush to safety.

  What the hell is she doing here? Brandon acted on pure instinct as he pushed himself up, turned against the swell of people to race for her. He grabbed her waist and gripped her tight in his arms, shouldering his way through the crowd. Small fists beat against his back. People screamed all around him. But Brandon focused on only one thing: the doorway, the exit.

  Safety.

  More determined now that he had a little girl in his arms, he rushed to it, pushing his way through the crowd, not caring who he knocked down. When that first, glorious rush of air hit his face, he nearly staggered to his knees in relief.

  He kept going. He knew he had to get farther away from the house. He sprinted across the lawn, toward the street…

  And cursed in pain as the girl sank her teeth deep in his flesh. He dropped her. She caught her balance quick, then started immediately for the house. Brandon spun around, eyes wide in horror. What the fuck is she doing?

  The girl was fast, but Brandon’s legs were longer. He caught her just short of the door. The last of the partygoers had already fled; the house was empty. He grabbed her, turned, and ran—

  A violent explosion shattered the air. The shockwave hit him hard. The blast threw him off his feet. For a brief moment, night became day. Brandon fell forward, twisting just in time to avoid landing on the girl. Heat beat at his back. He turned, wide-eyed.

  The entire house was engulfed in vile, terrifying flames. Orange, red, and yellow they burned, making a mockery of the wooden structure beneath. The roof groaned and caved in. Brandon twisted to shield the young girl with his back. If he’d been only one second late…

  The girl didn’t move in his arms. She just stared, lost, at the fire. Brandon picked her up, half in a daze, and walked away from the house in a strange calm. He felt empty inside, not quite sure what had happened. He’d saved a child from a terrible death. He almost died himself.

  He looked around. Everywhere, pockets of people were scattering away. Everyone had gotten out in time, it seemed.

  Brandon set the girl down, far away from the flames. Her blonde hair was a mess, her knees grimy with dirt. Her eyes were wet, but she didn’t cry. She stood there, stiff as a board.

  “Hey! Hey, you’re safe. We got you out in time. What’s your name?” he asked.

  The girl didn’t respond. She just stared at the house, shell-shocked.

  Brandon heard sirens in the distance. It was long past time to get out of here. But he couldn’t just leave the girl.

  “You’re safe, okay? There’s nothing for you back there. Nothing—” flashing lights warned him of the approaching paramedics. He smoothed the girl’s cheeks. “When those people come, you go to them. They’ll get you home.” Brandon stood up, let the child go, and took one step away. He wanted to make sure she wouldn’t try running back to the house.

  She didn’t. She just stood there, dull, lifeless. The ambulance pulled up. Brandon spared one last look at the girl, then at the flashing lights—and ran.

  Brandon would never forget the tiny girl he’d saved. She’d been just a slip of a child, frightened and shaking. Many times over the years, he’d wondered what she was doing at that party.

  Now he knew.

  Sandra had said she hated the man who saved her. She hated him for sparing her instead of her sister. But, what if she knew the truth? What if she knew her sister died because of that man?

  What if she knew Brandon was him?

  Maybe it was more than just coincidence that had brought him and Sandra together in that little coffee shop in Ocean Shores. Maybe it was fate. Sandra said she’d slept in for the first time in sixteen years because of something he did. Maybe that was fate’s way of balancing the world. Brandon was the one responsible for Chloe’s death—and the source of Sandra’s nightmares—but he also affected her in a way that stopped them. If he spun things like that to her…

  He grunted and shook his head in disgust. There was no opportunity here. This was a complete disaster, and he knew it. Brandon was terrified of what Sandra would do if she found out. He’d promised her no secrets, and yet he’d hidden—was still hiding—his real profession from her. Now, he held back something much worse. If Sandra found out… it would do more than destroy their fledgling relationship. It would break her.

  Brandon remembered how relieved he’d been that he had survived when he got home the night of the fire. And how comforted he was by the fact he’d saved a little girl. But the next day, when news spread of the fire’s casualties, an uncomfortable dread started to build within him. The day after, when everyone in his school found out that one of those casualties had been the class valedictorian—the very same girl he sold to—the grief, the guilt, nearly killed him.

  Sandra had told him just now that the fire changed her life. She didn’t know that it had changed his, too. In the aftermath, he vowed to himself that he would never ruin another young human life again. It changed the way he operated, changed the way he approached the world. It changed everything about him. It made him care.

  And the only thing that allowed him to put that guilt to rest was knowing that while his actions had cost a life, he had saved a life, too. The anonymous little girl, the scared, frightened girl with the dirty blonde hair allowed him to conquer his demons.

  And now, that very same girl was on his yacht.

  Brandon had no idea how he would break the news to Sandra. He couldn’t act like anything was wrong, or she’d become suspicious. He needed more time to think, more time to process all the possibilities.

  He knew, in some deep part of his being, that some secrets had to be taken to the grave.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sandra didn’t know what was troubling Brandon when he left her after his nap, but it had passed by the time VEGA docked by Brandon’s friend’s beach house.

  Brandon led her off the boat, smiling and laughing all the while, then walked her through the forest to his car, which Clarisse had parked on the street above. Brandon’s assistant was nowhere to be seen, but all the clothes they’d bought were right there in the back.

  “You sneaky bastard! I can’t believe you had her bring them!”

  Brandon’s satisfied grin was plain for the world to see. “I know you liked them.”

  “Yes, but—argh!” Not knowing what to do, Sandra punched him in the ribs, hard. He grunted, but she got the worst of the blow. It felt like her knuckles had hit a solid wall. Brandon started to laugh, and Sandra stuck her tongue out at him.

  She got in the car, and Brandon started the engine. “Where do you live?”

  Sandra froze. In the magical past couple of days, she’d forgotten all about her shabby apartment. And while she knew Brandon wouldn’t think less of her for where she lived—he wasn’t like that—going back there seemed so incongruous to the fantasy of the weekend that the thought of him seeing where she really lived was unbearable.

  So, she did what any reasonable woman would do.

  She lied and gave him directions to Cassie’s place.

  Cassie lived in a quaint, little townhouse community. It wasn’t fancy, but it was infinitely better than Sandra’s apartment. Sandra had been to the townhouse once, when Cassie hosted a move-in party the week she bought it. All the regulars from her coffee shop had been there.

  When they drove through the entrance gates, Sandra put a hand on Brandon’s arm. “Just here, that’s fine.”

  Brandon frowned at her. “Let me find a spot to park. I’ll help you with the bags.”

  “No!” she exclaimed, feeling a flare of panic. She knew she had spoken too quickly, and tried to distract Brandon by kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll be fine, really.”

  “You can’t possibly carry everything up by yourself.”

  “That’s why we should have returned most of it.”

  “Come on, we’re past that. I saw how much you liked trying everything on. You deserve those clothes.”

  But what did I do to des
erve you? “Really, I’ll be fine.”

  “Sandra.” He said her name simply, but the conviction in his voice was unmistakable. “I’m not letting you struggle to the door by yourself. This looks like a great community. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I’m not—” ashamed, she was going to say, but then changed her words. “You’re right. Exactly right. My place is a mess. I wasn’t expecting anyone when I left. I don’t want you to see it like that.”

  “I won’t judge.” He pulled into a vacant spot. “Maybe I like a woman’s clutter.”

  Sandra’s heart started pounding with apprehension. If Brandon went with her, he’d realized she’d lied to him. “Really, I’m going to be fine.”

  “I said I’ll help.”

  He turned the engine off and got out of the car in a way that left no room for arguments. Sandra cursed herself for thinking this was a good idea. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The minute he realizes I lied to him, he’ll turn around and leave on the spot. Idiot!

  Sandra got out after him, her mind working a million miles an hour trying to find some way to salvage the situation. Brandon had all the bags under his arms, and looked at her through his designer shades. “Which way?”

  “Follow me,” Sandra sighed. She dragged her feet toward Cassie’s door. When they stopped before it, Sandra took a deep, shaky breath. She had no way of getting in.

  She fumbled in her purse for imaginary keys, but she knew she was just delaying the inevitable. She’d promised Brandon that honesty would be the basis of their relationship, and failed at the very first test. When he realized she’d lied to him, everything would blow up in her face. He’d see her for the fraud she was, leave, and never speak to her again. She’d be like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. The illusion would be over.

  Brandon stood there, watching her. Regarding her without a word.

  She squared her shoulders toward him. Maybe she had a chance, but only if she confessed right now. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and—