by Love Belvin
When the talks were over and the lights came up, Erika stood, prepared to leave. When I shifted in her direction, I saw Jackson speaking to a passerby of our table.
“Thanks so much for this, Elle,” she smiled warmly. “It was awesome. It feels good to be connected to a company that actually has history in the business. I didn’t know much about Jax’s dad; I’ve known them since we were kids and just thought he was ‘in the business’.”
“I’m glad you’ve agreed to coming aboard. Jackson has lots in store for you. I can’t wait to carry out his vision.” I rose from my seat while speaking, prepared to see her out. “We’re going to have so much fu—”
“What the hell?” I heard screeched from behind me. “Elle!”
“Your back!” I heard from someone else.
Huhn?
“Babe?” Michael crooned.
“Ewww…” That came from the little twat, Ashley.
“What?” I demanded, futilely looking over my shoulders for what had my tablemates animated.
“Your shoulders and back are welted,” Brad finally gave some sort of explanation.
“Welted?” I gasped.
Then I recalled the pain when Michael tried palming my back just before dessert. That’s when it hit me.
Sex.
Jackson!
My eyes shot over to him like daggers. His were already on me as he was out of his seat, gripping the ivory clothed table in front of him, clearly tense. His thick brows were bunched, his nose flared and mouth agape. Michael’s big hands covered my arms as though I was unstable. I was beyond irritated in less than thirty seconds.
“I tripped over my gown when talking to my mother. My stupid heel got caught in the damn hem and I lost my footing. I fell against the wall…”—I patted my back over my left shoulder— “…lucky to have missed the floor, but I didn’t realize I nipped my back.”
I didn’t know how that fallacy quickly slipped my lips, but wasn’t surprised at my capability. I’d had ample practice at deceiving, covering…sneaking. My spirit was taking a nosedive.
“We’re at the end of the event. There’s nothing else left for you to do here.” Jackson delivered, dripping authoritative command in his tone. “You can go home and address your back.” I saw a flash of insecurity in his eyes—just for a moment. He then regarded Michael, likely for the second time during the whole evening. “Please escort her home safely.”
Escort? Did he really?
Snubbed, I didn’t care to retort his demand. I grabbed my clutch, likely with more force than professional and took Erika at her lower arm, forcing a smile.
“I guess we’ll walk out together instead.”
I started my stride to the closest exit of hall with my face still intact, but my ego bruised.
“Elle,” Jackson called out from behind me. I halted my steps and regarded him over my shoulder. I noticed a few at the table were watching, including Ashley. His shoulders were broad and legs parted wide with stark virility. “Is there anything I can do?”
The hell?
Oh, now he had bedside manners and not that of a pimp dismissing his whore?
Elle, drop it. Not here!
I expanded my smile. “You’ve done enough, Jax. Great event tonight. Congrats.” I didn’t wait for a response before I continued my pace out of the room with Michael and Erika at my sides.
ten
After paying the cabbie, I skipped up the cobble steps, leading to the palatial entryway and I rang the doorbell. I waited a few moments, mind churning in search for logic.
Why am I here? Again?
Because I was a glutton for punishment is why. Either way, it was too late to turn back now. The autumn sky was darkening and I’d look mighty suspect, strutting down the residential road where luxury homes were aligned and hidden behind posh and perfectly green lawns.
The door opened behind me.
“Elle,” Helen’s smooth mahogany face brightened as she beamed. “Please come in.” Without skipping a beat, I obliged, falling behind in step. “It’s good to see you again. You look quite lovely.”
I was surprised by the compliment and familiarity. Jackson’s housekeeper had never spoken much to me, and so enthusiastically.
“Thanks. I appreciate that, Ms…”
She blew air as she waved off the gesture and paced quickly. “Helen is just fine. Candice is going to be so happy you finally made it. You should’ve seen her little face when I started serving supper. She looked to have been stood up on a prom date.”
Before I could respond, we were at the door of the dining room. Oh, no! My steps halted and body steeled.
Damn! I thought I’d timed it so I would miss their weekly dinner.
“Ms. Candice, Elle has arrived,” Helen announced with delight.
I stood just out of the threshold of the double doors. I had no interest in stepping a foot in there.
“Really,” I heard Candice shrill. “You’re late!”
“What in the world? Late?” I recognized Valerie’s voice.
Helen’s smiled faltered when she calculated my distance and realized my resistance. “Elle, dear?”—she nodded warmly—“You may enter.”
I found my head shaking and I padded to the entryway, gaining full vantage of the room. Valerie was scowling, Magreen squinted, and Stephanie smiled appreciatively while Candice sported a hybrid expression between frowning in confusion and smiling brightly. And Jackson’s face was inscrutable, which wasn’t unusual. My cheeks heated.
“Hi.” I waved sheepishly. “Uhhh… I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just wait out front.”
“No!” Candice shot from her seat. “Helen’s cooked enough for a village.”
“She said she’d wait, sweetheart,” Valerie objected. “We’re almost done anyway. It’s our family tradition!”
Candice’s neck snapped. “Mom, don’t start that tonight. I thought we sorted that out the last time.”
“Excuse me?” Valerie’s fork dropped harshly in her plate.
Initially, I tuned them out, caught up in the glimmer I could swear to seeing in Jackson’s amber eyes. I tried to decipher the twinge at the corner of his mouth as he regarded me fiercely. When their voices rose to abrasive volumes, I snapped out of the trance.
“I-It’s okay. I’d rather wait.” I pivoted. “I’ll be out in the foyer.”
“No. If you won’t stay and eat, we’re actually set up in the office. You can wait there. I won’t be long, I swear!” The defeat in Candice’s eyes was palpable.
“My office?” Jackson piped out.
“It’s not your office…well, it’s not like you ever use it. You’re never here. And we all know you leave right after dinner anyways.”
Interesting…
Jackson straightened in his chair. “Actually, I had plans on staying a little while this evening.”
Though his tone included finality, something about his delivery told me he was being untruthful.
“We won’t be long,” Candice whined and Valerie sighed, clearly exasperated. “If we are, we’ll go up to my room, but I have everything set up in the office now.”
Set up?
I was confused. I had no clue why I’d been invited over, only jumped at the opportunity.
Jackson’s silence expressed his acquiescence.
“I’ll show you to the office.” Helen tapped me softly on the arm. “Are you sure I can’t get you something to eat while you wait?”
“No, thank you, Helen. I’ve eaten already.” I answered truthfully. I hadn’t gone there to eat.
I followed Helen down a couple of corridors until we arrived at the massive residential office. Its décor was carefully laid according to a traditional theme. The walls were dark cherry wooden panels matching the desk, credenza and long bookshelves. The huge desk where I saw a laptop was in the center of the room facing the door. Even empty, it screamed with intimidation. The carpet was classic green with fine white and red floral details stitched in. The lightin
g in the room was mild with just a few ceiling lamps on. There was a mahogany leather two seater off to the side of the room, two end tables aside it with antique brass banker’s lamps mounted on each and a center coffee table. The office was practical with all its trimmings. The ambiance was staid and…powerful.
What in the hell was I doing there?
Like you don’t know…
I did. Although I narrowly circumvented dinner, Candice hadn’t caught me off guard when she called last night, inviting me for dinner. She said she needed my help with something, but never gave specifics. That time I’d actually given her a rapid and definitive yes. I knew her brother would be here. Thank goodness he was predictable or else I would have to hitchhike my way back into the city.
It had been just over a week since the firm’s dinner at La’Chateau. The night had ended on a sour note after having been dismissed by my boss for the superficial wounds on my upper back and shoulder. I’d be remiss not to mention how said boss was the cause of those wounds when he fucked me into oblivion against a gravelly wall in the back of the restaurant. That night, I went home in shame, those feelings of debasement coming back in spades. Michael offered to treat them once he changed out of his suit. I declined, needing to be alone to sort my feelings about my intrepid actions that evening with Jackson. Then Jackson called, offering to come over to formally apologize and see about my back. His proposal honestly seemed without ulterior motives. I knew this by his tone and the timorousness in his delivery. But still, I refused, not wanting human interaction. I just needed my alone time.
The following day at work, I arrived at the office with another fairy tale book on my desk. It was “Snow White”, and illustrated by Camille Rose Garcia again. The image on the cover was a gothic Snow White, frantically running from something behind her while holding a bleeding apple. Jackson didn’t need to enclose a note. The image said it all. I’d run away, frantic and haunted, bleeding from the shoulders. When I was done studying the paperback and considering its sentiment, I felt eyes on me. I peered up and saw Jackson standing near his office door, regarding me intently, but not uttering a word. I didn’t understand what that meant, so I put the book away and got on with my day.
The day after that, Jackson left for Atlanta on J.G, Wizer and Hunter business. In fact, he was away for four days. I’d only heard from him via email and text as it pertained to Dynamic Branding. The first few days of his absence were met with peace. I appreciated the distance and took advantage of it by burying myself into work. Weaving together a tour for young adolescences and securing the foundation a clothing line for an impending fashion icon was no easy feat and more detailed than I anticipated, but I was making it happen.
About three days into Jackson’s retreat, something felt off. I stepped into the office overcome with a level of tedium that I hadn’t experienced since working under Susan. Things were turning around at a rapid rate, so much to the point I felt overwhelmed and could use a sounding board. I could easily have gone to Bridgette, but she was knee-deep in planning her wedding and I knew that event alone consumed her fervor. Marie seemed to have had her hands full with the happenings of a raucous and untamable four-member rock band. Between my appointed clients, tempers had been flaring, claws had protruded and egos demanded stroking. I had no patience for any of it and needed advice from a veteran, particularly someone who had a personal relationship with both my clients.
And okay!
For some ridiculously confounding reason, I simply missed the perplexing scowls he served me each time I was in his presence. Inexplicably, I was a glutton for wanting to be with Jackson again. To have him…in me. Call me insane, but that night in the back of the restaurant awakened something provocative in me, stimulating. I’d only felt it when around Jackson. It was something I thought I’d buried years ago before leaving West Virginia when I knew I had to turn over a new leaf, create a new identity. The old Elle—Ellen—wielded more power than was good for anyone around her, including herself, so the new Elle needed to be born. While I wasn’t prepared to conclude my old ways were resurfacing, the vivacity of life that thrilled me had reemerged…when with Jackson.
But tonight, I was intruding. Of course, I couldn’t just call him up like a normal well-adjusted adult. No. I had to play on his sister’s absurd desire to be friends with me and oblige her invitation to come to their home in hopes of seeing him outside of work again. To experience that piercing gaze again.
For crying out loud his girlfriend is here!
She seemed sweet and…pure, clearly contradictive to my manipulative, deceptive, used and horny ass. Even still… I wanted him. But Jackson didn’t even rebuke his mother for making it clear I was unwelcomed. He probably wanted nothing more to do with me, in or outside of work.
Again, Elle, what the hell are you doing here?
The knock and immediate opening of the door cut my trance. When I browsed with startled eyes, I saw Helen pacing into the room with a long stem glass of white wine.
“Elle, dear, Jackson said you’d enjoy a good ole crisp one on this evening. It’s a Sauvignon Blanc. Let me know if you need anything else. They’re wrapping up in there now.”
“Th—”—I cleared my throat, swallowing my anxious alarm—“Thank you.”
The glass hardly touched the surface of the coaster on the coffee table before I grabbed it, downing at least half the wine. My anxiety was growing, agenda waning. This was a bad idea and I should probably start thinking of a plan B, one that included finding a way back into the city.
The door opened again and this time striking and energetic Candice came bursting through sporting a moue. Even pouting, she was beautiful, similar to her brother and his scowls.
“Ughhhh!” she exhaled, collapsing into the leather seat at the desk. “Mother’s finally off to the bar in the basement, Jackson’s with his…girlfriend doing God only knows what. Thank goodness they’re out of my hair and now I can take care of my business.”
The mention of Jackson being off with his girlfriend nipped at me. I started feeling hypocritical, suddenly recalling my gripe with Jackson the last time we were together about betraying his sweet girlfriend, and here I was at his home on a stealthy agenda. Duplicity at its best.
There was a soft knock at the door, so muted I barely heard it. When Candice turned for the door, I followed her. It was Stephanie, sheepishly pretending to be creeping and closed the door behind her. Her eyes landed on me for a few seconds before moving to Candice.
“I just wanted to say goodnight,” Stephanie murmured.
“Okaaay…” Candice drawled out expectedly and rudely.
I turned to find her face tightened and mouth pouted north. Apparently this was strange to Candice.
When my eyes returned to Stephanie, hers were stapled to me and lips parted. She then scraped her bottom one between her teeth contemplatively. She was preoccupied with thought. I’d wondered what specifically. Unless Jackson confessed to her, she couldn’t have known we were cut buddies.
“Everything okay, Steph? Where’s Jackson?”
Stephanie’s eyes cut from me and to Candice. Her cheeks flamed with emotions. She was cute. A young cute, innocent girl, perfect for Jackson. Even at the mention of his name she blushed.
More reason for you to leave him alone, Elle!
“I-I just wanted to say nice seeing you again to Elle. I know things got a little crazy downstairs. We’re not all unwelcoming. I hope to see you again.”
I nodded, not knowing how to respond. She was claiming to be a part of Jackson’s family. Jackson, the young man I was sleeping with. The room went quiet, increasing the awkwardness of Stephanie’s presence—or mine at my employer’s in the first place.
Stephanie nervously brushed her palms down the front of her pants.
“Well, that’s it. Night, ladies. I guess I’ll go find Jackson to say goodbye.” She pivoted toward the door and just as peculiar as her entrance, she exited the room, closing the door behind her.
&
nbsp; Candice exhaled. “So fucking weird, that one,” she whispered to herself.
Internally shaking off that bizarre encounter, I found myself sighing my grief into the air. “What was this invite about, Candice?”
My tone was unfair. I didn’t have to come. I could have declined her invitation, but I didn’t. It wasn’t Candice’s fault that my horny ass couldn’t fulfill my needs with a more suitable lover.
“Okay.” She straightened, immediately perking in tone. “So, there’s an autumn dance going on at my school. I wasn’t sure if I would go at first. You know…my love life is in the dumps and I’d look corny as hell showing alone. But then”—she waggled her brows—“Trevor asked if I would be there. And I know. It wasn’t exactly an invite to be his date, but why would he ask if I’d be there if he didn’t want to see me there, right?” She didn’t leave a moment for me to reply. “Right! So, I need to find the dopest ensemble to slay in!” She’d finally taken a moment to breathe.
I hiked an expectant brow. “That still doesn’t explain my subpoena.”
Candice stood and pulled one of two companion chairs from in front of the desk to behind it next to hers.
“I’ve followed your advice of not trying and just being myself around him and it worked! This is evidence of that.”
“What did you do?”
Candice’s arms flew into the air. “I don’t know what me is, so I didn’t do anything. Didn’t say much.” Sounds familiar? “It was either that or my usual tactic of throwing my tits and ass in his face…strutting to make my ass jiggle in his face. But I did none of that and it worked, Elle! He’s now paying attention to me!”
Hmmmm… I’m sure Candice isn’t aware of her brother’s tactic of ignoring women to bait them.
“Anyway, I could tell he wants to ask me, but he’s crawling before he walks. So I need your help in suiting me for this dance.”
“Wait,” I swallowed my wine. “Were you going in the first place, because if not, I don’t recommend you going out of your way for a boy who hasn’t asked you out, formally?”
Damn!
