The Brother

by K Larsen

  Carol was my nanny growing up and my father’s housekeeper. When I graduated business school and bought my first house, I took Carol with me. She is the closest thing to a mother I have. My father didn’t appreciate her the way I did, so I requested her. He had no issue letting her go. I’d given her a much needed pay raise, too.

  “Your father expects too much of you. You’re only young once. Go out, have fun,” she says, waltzing past me.

  “I’m going out tonight. Have a good weekend, Carol,” I call out. She mumbles something but I can’t make out the words.

  A quick glance at the clock tells me I have a few hours to secure a ticket for tonight's gala. The gala that Nora and her friends have been emailing back and forth about non-stop. I grab my phone and start dialing. It’s a charity event and a large company donation should easily secure me a last minute ticket for the evening.

  Nora

  I coat my lashes black and smooth my dress at the waist. I am nervous. I loathe large events and speaking before big crowds. Eve knows this and yet she still insists I do it. I could argue with her, but Dr. Richardson also suggests that I do it. It is a stepping stone in my recovery and coping. I inhale deeply to center myself but it does little to relax me.

  “Tell me one more time why we need to do this?” I ask.

  “It’s a fundraiser,” Eve says. She shoots me a pointed look. “For our charity. This is important.”

  I push an errant strand of hair back in place. Lotte comes barreling around the corner. “OMG, you guys. I look like a princess.” She twirls and the skirt of her dress bells outs and makes little ripples as she turns. I cringe each time she uses text slang in conversation but it makes no difference if I voice my disdain to her. Having a teenager is a constant struggle of picking which battles are worth expending the energy for.

  “Yes, you do,” I say and grin at her. “Want a little mascara?”

  “She doesn’t need makeup,” Eve says. She gives me the side-eye from her spot before the mirror.

  Lotte pouts at her sister. “You’re too young,” Eve states.

  “She’s fourteen. It’s not too young.” I raise an eyebrow at Eve, who in turn slumps her shoulders, which means she is going to give in.

  “Nearing fifteen,” Lotte squeals. Teenagers also do a lot of squealing. There are so many things that are different now. Charlotte has bloomed into a confident young lady away from the mountain. She has adapted much more quickly than I. She is always smiling. She is alpas, vorfreude and voorpret about tonight. My chest swells with joy for her.

  “Fine. Only mascara though.” Lotte fist pumps the air before sitting on the toilet and waiting for me. I smile at her gently closed eyes. Her lashes nearly touch her cheeks. She really doesn’t need mascara but what fun is that? I gently swipe on just a little to each eye. We are so lucky to all be here. Eve and Lotte and me. Sometimes I forget I didn’t always have them. That I used to live in this house alone. Now, I can’t imagine living by myself. I straighten and insert the wand back into the tube.

  “All done,” I tell her. Lotte bats her lashes as she checks herself out in the mirror. Her enormous smile speaks for itself. She loves the look.

  “Okay, come on. We’re going to be late to our own party.” Aubry’s voice snaps me from the moment. Eve shuffles past her, mumbling about shoes in a susurrant tone.

  “Wow. You look amazing,” I say. Aubry does a slow spin for me.

  “I went all out for tonight. Hopefully, our looks alone will raise us a lot of money.” She winks at Lotte as I shake my head at her nonsense.

  * * *

  My dress is the color of Holden’s eyes. Vibrant green. The jewel tone compliments my skin well. I feel a bit like royalty dressed up in silk. The dress has a high neck. It is sleeveless but covers my back well. With just my shoulders and arms bare, the dress gives off a classy sex appeal. I still do not want to speak before a crowd, however. It makes me sweat and my heart race. I am certain the silk will show sweat stains if I perspire too much.

  A band of reporters is assembled at the front steps, and I watch the attractive newscasters flip their hair and fasten microphones to collars, using the backdrop of the Metro building for their on-air reports. The local news stations and Entertainment Weekly flutter around the building, picking at the details of my life and this event. As much as I revere the promotion for N.E.L., I detest the mass forms of communication that make this report about my trauma. I want to keep this about what our charity provides, not about my own past. I enter the building quickly and go straight for the restroom to gather myself.

  The event spills over with people. I snag a flute of champagne from a server passing by. I watch people for a moment as the crisp bubbly liquid warms me. Bright smiles, flowing gowns and tuxedos fill the room. They are groups in little cliques. Self-segregated, by what, I’m not sure. Class? Wealth? Friends? I find Aubry by following the sound of her laugh. It is a big, booming laugh. Vivacious and ebullient. She spots me approaching and grins.

  “That bathroom is a crime against humanity,” I tell her. I down the rest of my champagne in one chug. Aubry takes my glass and puts it on a server’s tray as they scoot through the crowd.

  “You and your bathroom requirements,” she laughs. “Nora, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Rickley.”

  I extend my hand to Mrs. Rickley first and then her husband. Aubry and I chitchat with them for what I feel is far too long, when I am saved by Detective Salve and Agent Brown.

  “You came!” Joy radiates off me. It is palpable even to me. It has been months since I have seen their faces. “Agent Brown, you look amazing,” I say. She looks at her gown and wrinkles her face in uncertainty.

  “There’s not much room to carry under this dress.” I giggle and shake my head at her. She takes me in her arms and holds me tight to her. She smells like clean laundry.

  “I am so proud of you, Nora.” Warmth blooms in my chest at her praise. She releases me and I move into Detective Salve’s arms for a hug. He squeezes me tightly now. Something he never used to do. Everyone treated me like a frail bird that might collapse at any moment, but now, now they see my strength.

  I pull back and take him in. “You are looking dapper,” I say.

  “I’m going to guess that was a compliment and say thank you.” Salve kisses my cheek.

  * * *

  It has been just long enough for all of us to drift back into our daily grinds. And although I never thought I would miss Agent Brown, I do. For a while, we all met for dinner once a week. Aubry, Angela, Agent Brown, Salve, Dr. Richardson and of course, Lotte and Eve and me. But as time has passed, once a week turned into biweekly and then once a month. Now, we are lucky to manage a dinner every other month.

  Lotte and Eve and I all see Dr. Richardson for therapy, individually of course, monthly, but that does not count as a social visit.

  “It’s been too long,” Salve says. Our group nods in agreement.

  “When is everyone free to get together for dinner?” Aubry asks.

  “I think next week we’re free,” I say, gesturing to Eve and myself.

  “It’s time,” Eve says and nods to the podium. Salve, Brown and Dr. Richardson smile warmly at me in encouragement. “We’ll figure dinner out later, okay?” she says to everyone. There are nods and assurances but all I can hear is garbled sound as anxiety takes root.

  My heart begins to pound and I feel sweat prickle my hair line. Salve wraps an arm around my shoulders. The connection helps soothe me.

  “You’ve got this. Just stare at us,” he says.

  I fake a smile and nod. Eve joins me on the small stage with the worn wooden podium. It calms me to know she is only just behind me. We do not let Lotte take center stage. We do not want her to be the face of N.E.L. She deserves some anonymity. She is still able to have a childhood. Eve and I have tirelessly worked to preserve that small bit of normalcy for her.

  * * *

  I approach the podium and rest my notes on it before
gripping the edges. Eve clinks a fork against her champagne glass and the room grows silent. I force a smile.

  “Good evening. I’m Nora Robertson, one of the founders of N.E.L. As you know, N.E.L. is a charity which aids victims of emotional or physical abuse in their recovery process. We are amazed and grateful that you’ve all come this evening to support a cause we feel so passionately about.” I scan the room as Aubry instructed, to make eye contact with the patrons. But there are so many, that I am overwhelmed. Sequins sparkle, coughs are stifled. I try to scan back to Salve and Agent Brown for comfort. “We are blessed that we have been able, with your lavish support, to help hundreds of girls and boys over the last year. Your donations have provided therapy to those who wouldn’t have been able to otherwise access it, safe homes to live in and most of all, a healthy support network to lean on.”

  My eyes stop on a man near the podium. Dirty blonde hair that is neither short nor long. A tailored suit that accentuates an athletic build. A bow tie that suggests a laid back aura outside of the event. One thick eyebrow raises in my direction. Green eyes capture mine and for mere seconds, I am held captive in memories. Eyes I can never forget. I stutter. A blush creeps up my neck. The heat of it making me sweat. His strange emerald gaze is illecebrous. Drapetomania seizes me as those eyes virtually unzip my dress, pull away the silk and leave me bare before him. My brain runs rampant with words. His words. My words for him. For this moment.

  Apodyopsis, orphic, alexithymia.

  My breath grows rapid with my pulse but I cannot tear my eyes away. He smirks at me. White teeth. Time ticks on too slowly. I recover when Eve nudges my lower back. She steps to my side and grabs my hand.

  I look down at my notes. “Yes, so,” I clear my throat.

  Eve wraps an arm around my waist and leans into the microphone.

  “So, enjoy tonight’s silent auction, drinks and delicious food. It is because of you that N.E.L. is able to help so many,” she finishes my speech for me, while I am still caught in the green gaze.

  She releases me and heads into the cacophony of claps and cheers. I exit the stage without breaking eye contact with those jade eyes. I am lost in my mind. Lost in Holden. It is as if he is here. Watching me. Waiting for me. One heel slips on the second step. Gasps sound around me as I tilt sideways and flail in the air. Time decelerates. I can see the shocked faces of those I pass as I tumble toward the ground.

  Strong arms catch me.

  I shriek, suspended in air.

  “You’re okay. I caught you.” Everything about him overwhelms me instantly—his size, his baritone voice, his striking eyes. Trimmed nails and a gold signet ring catch the light by my knees. His hands look strong and clean. A small scar snakes down on the right side of his temple from hairline to earlobe, its thickness protruding from his skin. His smile spreads, white and taunting. It is a public smile, though, the kind that is too bright and too white. The kind that doesn’t mean anything. It turns me off. I look away from his eyes. His jaw twitches. I clear my throat. He sets me to my feet.

  “You look familiar. Maybe we've met,” he says.

  My brow furrows. I don't know what to say. We haven’t met. I shake my head at him.

  “If we have, it means you don't have a memorable face.” I bite my bottom lip. That was an incredibly witless thing to say to a potential donor. A blush creeps up my neck. This is why I avoid large events. I am always speaking before filtering.

  “Ouch.” He slaps his palm to his chest in mock-wound.

  I give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

  Liam

  The best way to track someone is through their passion. Because passion involves compulsion. Even if the person doesn't want to be found. They will intersect with that passion of theirs. Nora brushes a loose lock of red hair out of her eyes and stares at me. She smells like strawberries and a trace of vanilla.

  * * *

  “Liam Lockwood,” I say.

  She extends her hand. “Nora Robertson.” Her voice is silky and soft. Her cheeks are tinged pink from the embarrassment of her near trip and fall. I can almost see her pulse pounding in her neck.

  An older woman wraps her arm around Nora’s shoulders and it irks me.

  “Dr. Richardson,” Nora says. Her eyes show nothing but affection for the woman.

  “Mind if I steal her away?” Dr. Richardson asks. I grin.

  I shake my head. “Not at all.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  As Dr. Richardson and Nora walk into the crowd, I watch Nora’s ass. It’s small and tight. I am still staring when she looks over her shoulder. I half smile and lift a hand. Her blush is instant, how adorable. A waiter passes by and I snatch a glass of champagne from the tray as he goes. I will entertain myself for a couple hours and bid on some silent auction items. Maybe I will outbid everyone else, if something strikes my eye. If it is a way to get closer to Nora. When money isn't an object, it is easy to buy your way into other people’s lives if needed. A sailboat tour around the bay could be an excellent date. Or perhaps a gift certificate to a high end restaurant. I could always bid on the spa day and when she calls to let me know I won, tell her that as a man, my need for a spa day is very slim and that she should use it for herself. Insist that she do it. Because then, she owes me.

  She’s in the corner, alone. I decide now is the best chance and approach. I’ve watched her all night and I am certain, this is my moment. I haven’t been able to stop recounting the way her body felt pressed against mine.

  “Hello, Nora,” I greet. She pushes a wisp of hair from her eyes and cocks her head.

  “Liam? Right?” she asks. Her dress matches my eyes. I like that. I nod. Her pupils dilate as she takes me in. I can’t help but wonder if she sees Holden in me.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask. I place my hand on her forearm. Her skin is cool and soft. Her eyes dart to my hand on her skin. Goose flesh covers her arm.

  She shakes her head and pulls her arm to her side. “No. Why?”

  “You looked ... lost for a moment there.”

  She smiles a weak, fake smile. “Sorry. It’s not you. I tend to seek solitude at events like these. I’m not great in crowds.”

  “Ah, I see.” I turn my head and scan the crowd. People are dancing, others are bidding on silent auction items. “The event turned out great. Everyone is smiling.”

  “Thank you. How did you hear about it? Are you enjoying yourself?” I think fast. I didn’t come with a backstory prepared.

  “My niece suffers from PTSD and your charity has helped her greatly. And yes, I am.” She parts her lips as if to say something but closes them again. I have to fight the urge to reach out and finger them. They’re full and soft looking. I want to drag her out of here. I want to take her home and turn her from a blushing girl to a dirty-talking woman. I need to know what her skin tastes like. If she really does like it rough or is into toys. I want to feel her inside and out. I am bored with watching.

  “This is going to sound blunt, but can I ask you something?” I chance.

  She licks her lips and holds my gaze. “I suppose.”

  “Ever since you fell into my arms, I’ve had a hard time thinking of anything else. It’s not often that happens and I’d love to get to know you.” I lay the charm on thick. Women love thinking they are the object of one's thoughts. I grin at her. “May I call you sometime?” I ask. She smirks.

  “No,” she says. I blink. It is not often I am rejected.

  I cock my head and ask, “Why not?” She looks over my shoulder. Her nostrils flare. I have pushed a button somehow. She pulls a piece of gum from her clutch and pops it in her mouth.

  “I find dating tedious.” She looks weary. Tired of our conversation now. It makes me want to punish her. I want to make her beg for me. I school my features and play nice.

  “How come?” I ask. Nora sighs. Her breath, minty, hits my face.

  “I don't particularly like people.”

  I chuckle. “You're painfully hon
est.” She shifts and her dress accentuates her curves. I stifle a groan.

  “Apparently,” she says. She moves away from the wall slightly. I decide to cut my losses. For now.

  “Well, it was nice to catch you, Nora.” She bites her lip. Her eyes snap to mine. A blush crawls across her cheeks.

  “Yes. Thank you for that. You made the ordeal much more ... graceful.”

  I reach my hand out. She takes it and shakes it firmly before releasing it. I open my mouth to speak but she is already turned away from me. Her hand raises toward someone in the crowd. And she’s gone.

  I stay and mingle until ten. It gives me time to watch Nora. To take in the way her body moves in that silk sheath. I need time to decompress before I see Candy. I push through people dancing toward the exit, searching for Nora as I go. I’ve lost sight of her. Blowing out a breath, I feel deflated when I reach the entrance and still don’t see her. As the crisp night air fills my lungs, I wait for the valet to bring my car around. A woman laughs. It’s loud and joyful sounding. It echoes all around me. I whip my head in the direction of the sound. Nora smiles. It is a brilliant white against the dark night. Her phone is pressed tightly to her ear. I want to know who she’s talking to. I want to know what is so funny. I could call out to her but I won’t. I rub my palms on my thighs. It will be better this way. Nora and I, we’re a love affair without a love song. I’m going to toss her around, and probably disappoint her but I can’t help that I pinch myself. Ouch. It doesn’t matter really. I adjust myself. Relieving the tension behind the zipper in my pants.

  Nora

  I am lost in the memory of the lazy grin that spread across Liam’s handsome face as he sauntered toward me. I should have moved, or walked away, but those eyes hooked me. Eve and Aubry, thank God, waved me over when they saw me in the corner with him. Liam Lockwood. Even his name gives me tingles. Almost butterflies. There is something so familiar about his face, that it set my belly on fire. Desiderium made me wait to see what he would say.