by Nella Tyler
“I’ll get it!” Dad called. He opened the door, and I heard him cheerfully greet someone.
“Where is she? Is she awake?” I could hear Nina’s voice in the entryway to the house. I grinned and set the pan I was working on down.
“Yeah. Before noon, too. Can you believe it?” Dad laughed.
“Honestly, you should have been there for college. She just slept all weekend.”
“I was working during the week!” I called in an effort to defend myself. I walked out into the entryway and saw my best friend standing there with a grin on her face.
“Hey, girl.” Nina pulled me into a hug and I instantly felt better. For as scrawny as she was, she gave incredible hugs, and since she was a little shorter than me, I tended to get a head full of hair in those hugs, too.
“Hey.” I hugged her back and smiled at my dad. “Did you call her?”
“Nah, she just showed up. I think you’re telepathically connected or something,” Dad said.
“You did so call me!” Nina protested.
“Dad!” I chided my father for calling Nina as though I needed some sort of emotional response team. I was glad he had, because in all honestly, I did need an emotional response team, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to protest the means.
“I didn’t do anything of the sort.” Dad had a twinkle in his eye. He picked his briefcase up off the table by the door. “And I have to go to work now. Talk to you later.”
“Nuh-uh! You do not get to leave after you make me out to be some kind of stalker!” Nina was grinning, too.
Dad shrugged and put his hands up in surrender before ducking out the door. When he closed it behind him, Nina turned to look at me.
“For what it’s worth, I believe you,” I offered.
She nearly strangled me in another hug. “Jesus Christ, Briella, I’ve been worried about you. What the hell happened?”
We walked into the kitchen, and I poured myself another cup of tea. “Just… well, what did Dad tell you?” I offered Nina a cup, and she shook her head. We sat down at the table.
“He told me that you had left Jason and that you were staying here for a little while. That’s literally all he told me. To be honest, I’m kind of pissed I had to hear it through your dad,” Nina said.
“Well, I was… I was scared.”
“I’m not mad. Just, you know. I wish I could have helped.”
“You would have beaten Jason to death,” I pointed out.
“What’s your point?” She looked almost a little too deadpan before offering me a small smile. “I’m sort of kidding. I didn’t expect you to leave so soon. I’m really proud.”
“Really? I feel… I don’t know. Like I could have stuck it out.” I took a sip of tea.
“Bullshit. He was a shitty guy, and didn’t deserve you.” She raised her eyebrows at me and gave me a sufficiently terrifying stare with her golden eyes. “I’ve been trying to get you to ditch his ass for years.”
I groaned. “I know. Please don’t give me an I-told-you-so.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “Now not, anyway. I really am glad you moved out of that shithole. You can get on with your life now.”
“I’m not so sure,” I admitted. “It feels kinda the opposite.”
“How so? I’d think you’d feel more dead-ended with Jason than here.”
“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I feel like I wasted three years of my life. I did everything for him, for us, and now it’s… it’s all gone. Wasted time.” I shook my head. “I’m 24, and I have a sort of part-time job and nowhere to live.”
“I don’t think it’s wasted time. You learned something valuable, right?”
“Maybe. But I can’t see it that way now. Maybe I will in a little while.” I set my mug down and sighed again. “Shit, I’m back at my dad’s house. I love it here, don’t get me wrong, but…isn’t this the most pathetic thing to do?”
Nina was quiet for a second, and then she snapped her fingers. “I know what you need. You need a vacation.”
“What?” I couldn’t imagine a worse idea.
“Think about it, Bri! You can’t see why leaving was such a good idea not because of time, but because of where you are. What you need is to fucking forget about him for a little while. You need a new perspective. If you’re gonna mope, you should at least do it somewhere nice,” Nina said.
I couldn’t pretend like it wouldn’t be nice to just cancel my plans for a little while and try to forget I had a life to crumble. “It sounds nice,” I admitted. “Where do you have planned?”
“My parents have this coupon for a free hotel stay at any Best Inns,” she said. “Why not Florida? It’s a long way away, it’s got a beach, plenty of bars. We can go live it up for a few days and then you can come back and worry about all the little shit.”
I bounced my tea bag in my mug. I had saved up a bunch of money to pay rent, and I wouldn’t need to this month. I’d been to Florida before, and I loved the place dearly; the beach was something I couldn’t top. I didn’t have any plans the next week, either, so really my excuses were limited. “Shit, I guess I’m in.”
“Awesome! We’re going to Florida, baby!”
Chapter 5
Dexter
I fiddled with the buttons on my shirt again, unsure whether this one or another that I had in my closet would best suit the occasion. I wanted to take off my slacks, get rid of the sleek black suit, and go to bed. After a delightful weekend worrying about the date Monday, Monday had finally arrived, and I couldn’t feel more concerned. I tried to tell myself that it would all be all right. If my father truly believed that he was making a good decision for business, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.
That’s what it boiled down to, in the end. This was going to happen whether I wanted it or not. I could only hope that she wasn’t so horrible as my nightmares had said.
I drove myself to the restaurant, despite my father’s insistence that I get a driver. It seemed absurd for such a short distance as The Amelie. While I drove, I tried to talk myself out of it, to convince myself that I shouldn’t do this. I thought about calling Tyler.
No matter how I looked at it, I needed to go through with the date. It had to happen one way or another. I parked my car in a parking garage across the street to avoid someone hitting it on the sidewalk.
The Amelie wasn’t a particularly prestigious place. It was nice, nicer than most chain restaurants, with a delightful bar. Most of its appeal came from its beach location. A lot of wealthy people liked to come here to let their hair down a bit in the reserved seating area. It looked quiet tonight; usually, most of the riffraff visited on the weekends.
I was guided to my table and sat down. It was now five after 8, so I supposed Tiffany wasn’t entirely too late. When the waiter came by to ask for drink orders, I ordered waters for the both of us and waited a bit longer.
Finally, the door to the reserved area opened; it was barred off from the regular area by glass, accessible by a door. A woman walked in behind the waiter. She was tall, maybe 5-foot-8, with long blonde hair and a dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. I could see designer insignias on her handbag and vaguely recognized her from photos around the DuBois home at their Christmas party.
“So, you’re Dexter?” She paused before she sat down at the table.
I nodded dumbly and then cleared my throat. “Ah, yes. You must be Tiffany DuBois. It’s good to meet you in person.”
“Yeah, it’s good to meet you too.” Tiffany glanced at the waiter, and as she motioned for her to come forward, I wondered whether I could marry her. She wasn’t lacking in looks, and she looked like she took care of her body. I didn’t know anything really about her personality, but I almost feared learning more about her.
“I heard you just got back from France. What were you doing there?” I prompted. I wanted badly for this to go well. So much of my happiness was on the line if it didn’t.
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Just some st
upid fucking wannabe designer wanted my signature for something. Or an endorsement, or whatever. It was stupid. She had me set up in a shitty hotel.”
I faltered at the sudden negativity. “Oh. Well, did you, um, did you see anything interesting there?”
“No. It’s France. Who hasn’t seen the Eiffel Tower? I’m not a fucking tourist.”
She was, by definition, a tourist in France, but I didn’t press the issue. I was starting to understand that she was incredibly obnoxious as a person and the sort of girl that I tried to avoid in college. The sort of person, really, that I ran into a lot as a member of the elite class.
“Of course,” I said. “I—”
“Oh my God, where the fuck is the waiter?” Tiffany’s excessive use of the word ‘fuck’ combined with the whiny tone of her voice made it clear that this was going to be a very, very long date. I cleared my throat and glanced at the waiter, unsure whether I wanted the waiter to help Tiffany or to help me.
When the waiter came over, Tiffany was quick to go on the offense. “It’s been like 10 minutes since I got here.”
It had been less than three, but the waiter nodded nervously. “My apologies, ma’am. What would you like to drink?”
“Can I get a water?”
The waiter looked at the water that was already sitting on the table with confusion. “Ah, a fresh water?”
“With extra ice. There’s not enough ice in this one,” Tiffany said, and promptly handed the glass back to the waiter.
The waiter glanced at me as if to see if I would be angry as well. I could only shake my head slightly and do my best to look apologetic. I couldn’t believe that she was this horribly rude on top of everything else.
Tiffany talked at me about her fashion degree—it was targeted, offensive talking, because she didn’t ask me anything about myself or even let me say anything when the chance came up. She only wanted to discuss runway habits, which I didn’t have a problem with, but none of her criticism seemed particularly elevated. Everyone was a ‘fucking idiot’ or a ‘fucking bitch,’ and it didn’t seem like she cared much about anything at all.
When she started prattling on about some fashion show that she hadn’t liked, I began wondering if it was entirely too late to bail. We’d gotten our food, sure, but I could always just go by a fast food restaurant on the way home instead. I didn’t want to stay here. I didn’t want to marry her. I would be in that house with her forever. We might even have children, and while I could imagine the prosperity of the company… the company.
I had no choice. One the upside, with this date, every minute felt like an eternity—if I spend my life with her, I might never die.
As the date began to drag on into unbearable eras of waiting, I started to wander off mentally. I glanced into the non-reserved seating and a woman caught my eye. She sat alone, at a table, but I couldn’t understand why. When I got a closer look at her, I found myself truly distracted.
She looked a bit impatient, like she was waiting on someone. I could see the amber in her eyes from across the restaurant. Her hair tumbled down the slender curve of her neck and I wanted, unexplainably and suddenly, to know her name. She lifted a glass to her lips and I knew she couldn’t be there alone. A woman like her had to be spoken for. She was probably waiting on her husband.
“Um, hello?” Tiffany caught my attention with a harsh, accusatory tone. I made a mental note that I would need to get used to harsh, accusatory tones.
I smiled. “Sorry,” I offered, though I wasn’t, and when Tiffany started blabbering on about something or another, I found myself looking once more past her at the lovely woman.
Chapter 6
Briella
I adjusted my hair again and double-checked to make sure that I’d remembered my phone. After the long drive from Houston to Florida, Nina decided to take a nap with the promise to be up and ready to go the next morning. I couldn’t quite seem to get settled so easily, and wanted a drink. I was always skeptical of bars in new locations, so I decided on a place called The Amelia. It was more of a restaurant with a bar in it, and that was perfect for me.
The bartender walked over to me again, noticing that my glass was about half empty. I’d ordered a rum and Coke and didn’t even intend on finishing this one, let alone ordering another, so I prepared myself to deny her the chance to fill my glass. I always felt bad telling customer service ‘no.’ I’d worked as a waitress in high school and through most of college, and knew better than to think it mattered, and yet it still bothered me.
Instead of asking me about my drink, though, the bartender was much more friendly. “What brings you to Florida, darlin’?”
I wondered if I looked entirely foreign to the area, and offered a smile. “Just on vacation. A friend and I decided to get out of Houston for a week and come here.”
“Ooh, a vacation. I’ve been trying to get my husband to take me on one of those for years.” The bartender winked and laughed, cleaning a glass with a rag. “You said you’re from Houston?”
“Yeah. We just needed to get out of Texas for a while.”
“What’s the trouble? If you don’t mind my asking, anyway.”
It occurred to me that the bar was relatively empty, and the woman was probably bored standing there and cleaning glasses without someone to talk to. I leaned forward a little and took another sip of my rum and Coke. “Relationship troubles,” I admitted. She was a stranger; there was no harm in talking to her a little.
She looked pleasantly surprised at the juicy information. “Relationship troubles, hmm? Your boyfriend causing you grief?”
“Not anymore,” I said firmly.
She got a good laugh out of that. “Well, that’s good. I’ll tell you what, this restaurant here gets a lot of attention from rich people. It’s by the beach, but it’s not too tourist-y. The VIP section over there gets a lot of use.”
I glanced at the VIP section. There were a few couples sitting there, all well-dressed and very important looking. One man in particular caught my eye, and for a second, I got distracted. He had an unbelievably defined jawbone, and his eyes. There was no way he was here alone—sure enough, when a waiter standing to the side moved a bit, I saw a beautiful blonde woman sitting with him. Probably his wife. “Interesting.”
“So it’s a good place to find a man. Lots of college students will stop by here lookin’ for sugar daddies.”
I cringed at the insinuation that I was on the hunt for some old guy with money and some weird fetish. “Oh, that’s not, um, that’s not my gig.” Finding a man here was the farthest thing from my mind. That being said… I glanced around the counter again to catch another glimpse of the handsome man in the VIP section. His wife had to be incredibly lucky. Someone that lovely… I shook my head and scorned myself. I was definitely not here to look for a new interest.
In all honesty, I didn’t know if I ever wanted to see anyone again. I knew I probably only felt that way because of what I’d been through, but part of me wondered what would happen if I applied myself to my work. I could be successful, have some wonderful friends, and live alone without anyone to bother me. The thought was awfully appealing.
The man stood up with the woman, and I noticed that they weren’t touching. No hand-holding, no arm-holding, nothing, and it felt too foreign and strange for them to be happy and married. Or maybe they’re just not touchy-feely. And why do you care? You’re not looking.
Well, maybe I was looking. But I could look without getting attached. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me that would make me even look at anyone in a romantic way. After what I’d been through, I should have been doing anything else. I should have been questioning my sexuality, probably, or at least swearing off men forever.
I looked up and saw the back of his head as he walked out with the beautiful blonde. Oh, well. I knew that a wealthy guy with a wife wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. I knew better than to think that race wouldn’t play a role in that, too, though I’d found it
easier to find people that didn’t think about it much after college.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone sit down next to me. I began to dread that it would be some man trying to get my number, and I tensed up slightly. I considered calling for the bartender to divert myself.
“Hey. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
The voice wasn’t what I was expecting. Put-together, elevated in tone, a bit formal really, though he hadn’t said anything particularly advanced. I looked to my left and was surprised to see the attractive man I’d been ogling sitting next to me. I glanced back to the door and saw that it was a different man I’d seen leave; I’d gotten the two confused.
“No, you haven’t,” I replied. I glanced down at my half-finished rum and Coke and looked at him. He was even more attractive up close. Something told me that I ought to walk away, and I shut that thought out and decided it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him just a little bit. “To be fair, it’s a big city.”
He laughed to that assertion. “I guess. I have to admit, I thought that you were waiting for someone.”
That reminded me of the blonde he’d been with earlier. “I know for a fact that you were with someone earlier.” Was he planning on cheating on his wife with me? The thought made me wrinkle my nose, and suddenly it was hard to acknowledge him as attractive.
“Yes. Well, no.” The man ran a hand through his hair. “I, ah, I just got done with the worst blind date I’ve ever been on.”
That certainly explained the awkward body language. I couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong. They were both very beautiful people, and they looked wealthy. Surely rich people didn’t think far beyond that—at least, I couldn’t afford to think so, or else my own imagination might run wild. “Oh? She seemed pretty.”
“Pretty, sure. I, ah, I don’t like to speak badly of women. It would suffice to say it didn’t go well. My name is Dexter, by the way.” Dexter smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. It was entirely refreshing to hear a man refuse to trash a woman behind her back. I’d heard plenty of guys call their ex’s ‘bitches’ and ‘sluts,’ and refuse to do any amount of introspection as to why the relationship hadn’t worked out. It made me wonder if that woman had actually been awful. But he had asked me a question, and I came to attention enough to answer it.
