Tempting Eden

by Celia Aaron

  Someone grabbed my hand, gently at first and then pressing harder.

  My eyes flew open. Ms. Rochester was leaning over, spanning the distance across the middle aisle and gripping my hand. My mind snapped back to the present. She was looking at me, concern in her touch, her eyes. She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question: “Are you okay?”

  I nodded and squeezed her small hand. Her features were still tight, worried. Somehow, erasing her distress became more important to me than the memories that threatened to destroy me.

  To ease her, I gave what I thought was a smile, but I think turned out more akin to a grimace. Still, she seemed to understand my intent and gave my hand another squeeze before letting it go. I didn’t want her to. I wanted to snatch her hand from the air and return it to me.

  Then she did something I hadn’t thought even remotely possible. She reached up and placed her hand on my cheek.

  It was a light caress, yet somehow powerful. A “balm on my spirit” as some old church song from my youth used to say. The tension left me. My muscles screamed at the change, they’d been drawn so tight. I pushed the dark thoughts away and refocused on this time, this life. After a few moments of her warmth against my skin, she applied gentle pressure, turning my head to the side.

  She had guided me to the window.

  The view was more than my brain could even process. I was flying, actually flying. I saw the blue of the sky just as the birds do: clear, clean, and perfect. The ground was far below, a beautiful maze of roads, houses, and trees. Fall colors painted the landscape, and dots of blue-green marked lakes and rivers. It was somehow exotic; to get such an otherworldly view of the place I’d lived my entire life. But more than the view, it was her touch that had overridden my fear and shown me something nothing short of amazing.

  She gave me another light caress, her thumb ghosting over my cheekbone, then she retreated back to her side of the small cabin. I tore my eyes away from the view to look at her. Color highlighted her cheeks as she ran a nervous hand through her hair. I wanted to acknowledge what she’d done for me. I wanted her hand on me again, so I could kiss her palm in thanks.

  She avoided my gaze and opened her laptop. Before I could even say a word, she put her earbuds in and made herself busy, her fingers whizzing across the keyboard.

  I turned back to the window and let it all sink in. I was in a private plane, flying with a beautiful woman, to a luxury beachside hotel.

  I only hoped Helen could see me now.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JACK

  PAST

  “MAMA REED HAS BEEN calling for you.” Helen ran up, a fine sheen of sweat across her smooth brow.

  “What does that old bitch want now?” I sat on a neighbor’s stoop while my girl braided my hair in rows.

  Stinging erupted along my scalp. “Damn, Trinia, why you have to pull so hard?” The pain grew worse as I spoke.

  “Because I have to make the braids tight or they’ll come undone. Shut up, crybaby.” Trinia redoubled her efforts to tame my hair. “And yours ain’t right anyway. It’s all kinky-straight, thanks to your white mama. At least you got those blue eyes out of it. Didn’t get much else.”

  My mixed race was a blessing and a curse. I was irresistible to my fellow fifteen-year-old girls, but a target to my fellow boys. Getting pussy and beatings were two of my main pastimes.

  I relaxed back against Trinia as she kept putting a hurting on me. Maybe she’d give it up again a little later. We’d creep down by the community garden, as it was called, though it was grown over with weeds, and get busy in the shade of the pines. I didn’t even care if some of the other boys watched. Their jealousy made me smile.

  “Get that goofy look off your face and come home.” Helen shook her head. “Mama Reed ain’t playing. You’re in trouble.”

  Helen put her hands on her hips. The buttons on the front of her shirt strained, about to pop, dark skin showing through. Her clothes were two sizes too small, just like all the kids’ at the Reed apartment. They took in as many foster children as the law allowed, from babies all the way up to teenagers like me. The hefty state check they got every week kept them in alcohol and cigarettes, though it didn’t leave much for actually taking care of the kids who lived in their overcrowded apartment.

  “What’d I do this time?” I patted the cracked bricks next to me for Helen to sit down.

  Helen gave Trinia a look more potent than battery acid and didn’t move. “I don’t know, but she’s hollering for you. You better come. You know how she gets if you don’t. She’ll take it out on everyone else.”

  I didn’t care. If Mama Reed wanted to beat one of the other kids because she was mad at me and it saved my hide, then all the better. As long as the one taking the beating wasn’t Helen, I didn’t give two shits what that old woman did.

  I heard a voice cut through the stale afternoon air. Mama Reed yelling my name, her rage overwhelming even the sound of the approaching train a few blocks away. Helen wasn’t playing. Mama Reed’s tone told me that only I would do for this particular gripe of hers.

  “Shit, Trinia. I’ll catch you later so you can finish, okay?”

  She let me go. “All right. But hurry back.” She gave me a parting yank. “And if I see you with Lizzie again, I’m going to whip that bitch’s ass.”

  Trinia was stupid. Lizzie was my last conquest. I didn’t go back for sloppy seconds, only forward. Once I was done with Trinia, I’d keep prowling around until I found my next target. They were too easy around this slum. I’d fucked so many of them I was beginning to forget which ones were which and when. The only trick was hiding my condoms from Mama and Papa Reed. And Helen.

  Ignoring Trinia’s pull, I stood up and dropped a quick kiss on her lips, getting a taste of her vanilla lip gloss.

  Helen made a gagging sound.

  I winked. “I’ll be back.”

  Helen had already turned and started leading me back to our apartment. No longer in the shade offered by the stoop, the hot sun made the humid air feel like a smothering blanket. Bugs ticked and hummed in the high grass between the government projects. The city rarely came out here to cut it, claimed it was too dangerous. Too many guns, too many deaths. Pussies.

  The brown brick townhouses crumbled, some completely burned out and home to various drifters, addicts, and prostitutes. I tried to stay away from any hard drugs, even though they were everywhere. Smoking a blunt every so often never hurt anyone, though.

  I sped my pace and scooped Helen up in my arms. She squeaked. She was small for a nine-year-old, all legs and elbows. I threw her slight frame over my shoulder. Compared to her, I was a grown-ass man and taller than all the other kids my age.

  “Put me down!”

  “Why? I wish someone would carry me around.”

  I tickled her skinny sides. She squirmed on my shoulder, laughing and trying to kick out of my hold. I walked the two blocks back to our apartment, identical to Trinia’s in every way, right down to the cracking brick and rotting window sills.

  The only exception was Helen’s little flower garden next to the front door. She planted these throwaway sort of flowers there. She’d gotten a bunch of dead flower heads from one of the old ladies down the way. Helen had been so excited. In the spring, she dug around in the dirt with a big spoon she’d snuck from the kitchen. We’d crumbled up the flower heads, like the old ladies told Helen to do, and stirred them around in the dirt. I wasn’t hopeful. It looked like a mess, especially after we doused it with water, but Helen was certain. She smiled, her crooked bottom teeth showing, and watched the patch of red dirt whenever she had a spare moment. I didn’t have the patience to sit and wait for something to grow. I was too busy hustling the girls or hanging out with my boys.

  Helen never gave up, and eventually, she was rewarded. Tiny two-leaved stems shot up in only a few days. She watered the patch religiously until the stalks grew and grew, their leaves even greener than the high grass.

  They bloomed easy,
even in the heat and the shitty earth that surrounded Lowood.

  The plants were in the prime of flowerhood that day, big pompom-looking blooms in bright pinks and reds. Helen’s pride and joy.

  I plopped the girl down on the stoop. I figured I’d wait around outside, see if Mama Reed would calm down, maybe even forget what she was mad at me about.

  Mama Reed burst out the door, nearly knocking Helen over into her precious garden. The woman wore a shapeless flowery dress and house slippers, as if it were a uniform. Her hair was cropped short to make her wigs—worn every Sunday to church—fit better.

  “Where have you been? I found this in your room!” She held out the pistol I’d bought from another boy down the street.

  “Jesus, Mama Reed, give me that.”

  She smacked me across the face. “Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain, Jacquarius England!”

  I held out my hand for the gun. She put it behind her back. “No, sir. This is going in the garbage. When Mr. Reed gets home, I don’t know what he’s going to do with you. I hope he puts the fear of the Lord in you, Jack England. Because if you don’t get that fear into your heart, your soul is going to be damned to burn in the eternal flames.” She looked up to the sweltering heavens. “I swear, I swear, I swear I try to teach this boy to do right and follow Your ways. He won’t listen. He is willful. He is ignorant. He is ungrateful!”

  Helen covered her ears as Mama Reed’s sermon reached its fever pitch.

  “That was fifty dollars. Give it back.” I met her eye and kept my hand out. I thought about just taking it from her. I could. I was big enough. I could knock her down and take it. She would scream. I wouldn’t care. No one would come. Not around here. I could just take it and run.

  I took a step toward her and saw fear flash across her face. Good. “Bitch, I said give it here.”

  I wanted her to be scared. I didn’t have to listen to her, to do what she said. She was nothing to me, no one was, not blood, not even a friend. If I was going to burn in hell, then I was certain she’d be down there roasting with me.

  She wasn’t going to take anything else from me. I’d made up my mind to slap her back and take what was mine. I raised my hand.

  Helen edged closer to me. I snapped out of it, though I barely restrained myself. I couldn’t do it, not in front of Helen.

  Mama Reed cringed when she saw me raise my hand but grew even angrier when I dropped it back down to my side. She slapped me again, harder this time. She sputtered, spit flying from her mouth. I’d seen her blow up before, but never like this.

  The train rumbled by a couple of blocks away, giving her voice a backdrop of mechanical clanking and screeches. She didn’t stop, her onslaught of anger and disappointment continuing for what felt like minutes. One more hard slap made my ears ring, and then she retreated into the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Helen’s voice was tiny, small even for her.

  She was looking at me with the same fear I’d wanted to instill in Mama Reed. Tears welled, making her brown irises swim.

  My anger cooled to remorse in an instant. Still, I wasn’t sorry for wanting to hurt Mama Reed, I still did. I was only sorry Helen saw it.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just got mad is all. I’m fine.” The last thing I wanted was for Helen to be afraid of me. I’d do anything for her. I’d taken beatings for her in the past, dished out by Mama and Papa Reed. She was my sister, even if we didn’t share the same blood. She was the only person I cared about. Maybe even more than myself. “Don’t cry, Helly, I’m sorry.”

  I held out my arms and she came to me, letting me bring her in tight. Her head fit under my chin, tucked in there. I smelled the coconut oil in her hair, sweet and familiar.

  “You can’t be that. You can’t turn into that. You have to stay you, okay? We won’t be here forever. We’re going to get out. We’ll be something someday. Something real. We just have to make it through this first. We can’t mess up while we’re here.” Her voice was muffled and she shook her head, the plastic barrettes at the end of her braids clicking against each other.

  I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I didn’t want her to cry anymore. “I won’t mess up, okay? I’m me. It’s hot, and she hit me is all. I just got upset. Don’t worry. I’d never hurt you.”

  “I know, but I don’t want you to hurt anyone else, either.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  I lied.

  CHAPTER SIX

  EDEN

  THE PARTY WAS SET to start in half an hour, and I was still putting on my face. I lined my lids darker than usual and overdid the rest of my makeup right along with it. Selling high-priced Gulf real estate required showmanship. My little black cocktail dress, stiletto heels, and put-together look were meant to stir confidence, and a few other choice emotions, in the buyers I’d invited to the pre-opening sales drive.

  I gave my hair one more brush and stepped into my heels. They strapped high around my ankle, thank God, or I would break my neck just from walking across a flat surface. Pleased enough with the ensemble, I grabbed my clutch and hit the elevator.

  I wanted to check on Jack’s progress with the setup at the bar. I needed everything to go off without a hitch. The sooner I could get a sell-out, the better. I couldn’t risk Gray taking the project away from me. I needed the commissions and would do everything in my power to keep this development under my thumb.

  My head swam at the thought of what the commissions on Belle Mar would mean to me. I’d finally be free of Mason, free of the man who haunted my sleeping and waking moments. I could finally relax. But I needed to get this sellout first.

  The elevator dinged open. The scene was set perfectly, just as I had envisioned it. The bar was well stocked and manned by handsome men in server tuxes. White lights were strung overhead, done in such a way as to reflect elegance instead of tacky Christmas lights. The crystal gleamed, and the champagne was ready to flow. A local string quartet was tuning up in the corner.

  The wide-open balcony overlooked the ocean, letting a breeze blow into the large open bar area. Tables were set up and adorned with white hydrangeas, Southern yet sophisticated. And on the terrace, a mock-up of the proposed building with images of the rooms and finishes we’d decided on. Jack had placed it in the perfect spot, a natural area for people to gather and discuss the project. He’d covered everything, it seemed.

  Jack was speaking to one of the bartenders, gesturing to a banquet table set against the back of the room. I strode over to them.

  “—only after the first drinks are served, understand?” Jack’s tone was commanding, confident.

  “Yes, sir.” The bartender hurried off.

  Jack wore a black suit with a gray button-up underneath. No tie. The top buttons unfastened; the creamy brown of his throat and chest invited my gaze. There was a dusting of darker hair there, and I imagined what he must look like with his shirt off. Lickable, I think would be the word.

  He cleared his throat, and the corners of his lips quirked upward ever so slightly. “You look beautiful.”

  You do, too. “I, uh, well thanks.” I tried to get my thoughts in order, but his stare was making heat rise in my chest somehow. I glanced around. “The place looks spot-on, perfect.”

  “They have a few more things to do yet. I just let the head guy know we want the food served after everyone has a chance to get a few drinks in them. Make them more amenable to buying.”

  “Good move. This whole night is about selling. Remember that. We need to close this deal sooner rather than later. I realize we won’t sell out tonight, but we definitely need to get a running start.”

  “Understood.” His gaze rose over my head, and his features turned cool again, the hint of a smile murdered by whatever he saw behind me. “Mr. Poole,” he said.

  “Rochester!” Gray walked up behind me and placed a hand on my ass. He leaned down and gave me a sloppy kiss on the neck. He’d been pre-gaming hard, it seemed.r />
  “Gray, so good of you to make it. You remember my assistant, Jack?”

  “Why, sure! Hey Jacky Boy, good to see you again.” He motioned to a passing bartender. “I’ll have an old-fashioned, heavy on the whiskey.”

  I took a step away from him and tried to disengage his wandering hand. “Are you sure that’s wise, Gray? We can’t be rolling you out of here before the buyers even arrive.”

  He gave my ass a squeeze and let his hand drop. Embarrassment flooded me as I looked up and saw Jack’s jaw tighten. He’d seen it all. Great.

  “I’m a big boy, as you know, Rochester. I can handle my liquor.” He strolled to the bar.

  Gray was going to be an added complication I didn’t need. “You’re on babysitting duty tonight.” I kicked my chin toward Gray. “Keep an eye on him. Try not to let him scare anyone off. If he starts talking too much, just lead him away to whatever pretty woman is closest to you. That should work.”

  Jack rolled his shoulders. “No problem.”

  The elevator dinged. People began arriving. I schooled my countenance. Smiling, but not too much. Enough to be pleasant, but not ditzy. Then, I began to earn my keep. I greeted each potential client and numerous brokers. Some I’d known for years, and some were new buyers from out of state and even out of the country.

  Before long, the room was alight with conversation, liquor, and sales pitches. I led each potential buyer over to the mock-up, giving them an idea of the views and finishes they would enjoy in the luxury condominiums. The pitch was simple. Where else could you own a piece of the Gulf with breathtaking views and the choicest amenities? There were very few locales that offered such luxury, and Belle Mar was set to become the hottest and highest-end spot available.