His Wicked Ways

by Lorraine Beaumont

  “Fine.” The wheels on the cart squealed as Tracy pushed it forward.

  “By the windows,” she called out when the Tracy veered off to the left.

  “I am, but this stupid cart is not cooperating.”

  Molly thought Tracy was stupid, not the cart. Groaning inwardly, she shoved her phone in the back pocket of her faded jeans and helped her push the cart full of dishes over to the tables lined up on the east side of the restaurant.

  “Can you handle it from here?” Molly asked, wishing she had stayed in bed this morning.

  “Yes.” Tracy nodded.

  Molly pulled her phone back out of her pocket and perched her hip on the edge of one of the tables. She had three messages. Punching in her code, she lifted her phone to her ear to listen to her messages.

  “Moll’s, can you bring home some dinner?” Molly made a face. It was an old message from Dan, her ex. She didn’t know why she kept his stupid message. It was like she had some kind perverse wish to inflict more pain on herself. Granted it had only been for a few weeks but it still hurt—really bad—especially when she heard his voice—like now. She angrily punched the end button and beat her phone against the table. She had half a mind to toss it into the lake but that wouldn’t hurt Dan. It would hurt her. She made up her mind. She wasn’t going to be a glutton for punishment any longer. Taking a breath, she deleted his message.

  “See,” she said, taking another breath. “Nothing to fear. It’s okay…” The familiar feeling of panic started setting in again. The one she always got when she tried to delete his message or break up with him. She was terrified of losing him… or was she terrified of failing? She squashed it down. She had to be strong…taking a breath, she listened to her next message.

  “Hey sweetheart, it’s your father, just checking in. Call me.” Molly smiled. Her dad’s calls always made her feel better. And the fact that he didn’t like Dan was even better, except when she got back together with Dan and then she would be mad at her dad. There was just no pleasing her.

  She listened to the next message, which was from her best friend Peggy, the one getting married this weekend. Which meant Dan would be there. She hadn’t seen him in three weeks—three long weeks. Another sickening pang settled in her chest. “MOLLY!” Peggy’s voice was insistent on the other end. “Did you ask? Did you get it?”

  Molly sighed. Opting not to call, she texted her friend a quick message: Working on it.

  Molly was supposed to bring the liquor for the wedding as her gift to Peggy and Marshall, but she needed to clear it with her father. And even though she assured Peggy she could get the booze, she still hadn’t asked. Debating whether to call her father, she stared at her phone.

  “Now what?” Tracy asked.

  Molly exhaled and shoved her phone back in her pocket. She would have to call her father later. “Dress the tables.”

  “What?” Tracy gave Molly a blank look.

  Molly tensed. Pushing her shoulders back, she put on her best managerial face.

  “Watch,” she instructed. Leaning over, she pulled out a starched white linen tablecloth from under the cart. “This is how we dress a table.” With a flick of her wrists, she sent the fabric snapping into the air and floating soundlessly down on top of the table.

  “Next,” she said, making sure Tracy was paying attention, “we put the plates on top. Each setting gets three,” she instructed and pulled a stack of plates off the cart as well. One by one, she added the settings to the table and arranged two plates together and the smaller one at the top.”

  “What’s the smaller one for?”

  “That is where you will put the bread when the guests arrive.”

  “Oh.” The girl’s full lips pursed together.

  Molly gritted her teeth. This was the third time she showed the girl what to do. “Watch,” she said. “Just place the silverware on either side of the plate. The small fork goes first, then the larger one. On the right, you place the table knife.”

  “What about the spoon?”

  “After you put the cup and saucer on the table, here,” she instructed, setting the aforementioned cup and saucer at the top of the plate, she then pulled a spoon off the cart and angled it across the smaller plate.

  “Oh. I see.”

  “After each place is set, be sure to put a vase of flowers in the center and then place the linen napkins on top like so.” Molly set the rest of the things on the table and looked pointedly at the girl. ”Do you think you can finish these? I have to go in the back to do some paperwork.”

  “Huh?”

  Molly took a breath. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  “Um, okay.”

  Molly tensed. She felt like pulling out her hair. Normally she was pretty patient dealing with new hires but breaking up with Dan and the stress of Peggy’s wedding was apparently taking its toll on her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The late morning light sifted through the drab mustard yellow patterned curtains. Lucian draped his arm over his face, trying to block it out. He had a fucking headache, thanks to the cheap bottle of whiskey he had to buy because he was broke. Another surge of irritation shot through him as the bed shifted beside him. Lifting his arm, he glanced to his side. Blonde hair spilled over the pillow. He shut his eyes again.

  The air conditioner kicked on as a cart wheeled past his door. He was checking out today—not because he necessarily wanted to but because he had run out of money. Now, he didn’t know what he would do. He guessed he would just have to wing it because he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

  He gasped as a cool hand slipped down under the sheet and covered him. “I may have to get a rain check on that.”

  “Why?”

  He exhaled. “I have to go soon.”

  “How soon?” she asked, squeezing her fingers around his length, the tips of her fingers tickling his balls.

  Lucian groaned and glanced over at the red angry numbers glaring from the clock. “I’ve got an hour.”

  “I can work with that.” She lifted the sheet and climbed under the covers.

  Lucian inhaled a sharp breath. “Damn,” he exhaled. “That feels good.” And it did. He closed his eyes and forgot about his problems for a little while longer.

  ♣

  Forty-five minutes later Lucian feathered a kiss across her sweat-dampened forehead and stood up. Grabbing his jeans off the floor, he pulled them back on.

  “You know,” she hedged, pushing her long hair over her shoulder as she sat up. “You don’t have to leave.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why though?”

  “I have to check out.”

  “Oh.” She combed her fingers through the tangles in her hair. “Where will you go?”

  “Not sure.”

  “I have a thing later but if you like, you could stay at my place for…”

  “Sorry, babe,” he said cutting her off. “We had a deal and staying wasn’t part of it.” He buckled his belt.

  “But…”

  “Shhh…” He lifted his finger to her lips. “Let’s not ruin a good thing.”

  ‘”But…”

  “I’ll call you.” He tossed on his black t-shirt and pulled it down.

  “When will you call?”

  He exhaled and raked his hand through his hair. “Baby, listen…let me give you some advice. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not the type of guy to settle down—if that’s what you’re looking for. But when you do find a guy you want, not me,” he clarified quickly. “Try not to be so accessible, all right.” He reached out and smoothed his hand over her hair.

  “What do you mean by accessible?” Her brows creased with confusion.

  “I guess what I am trying to say is, keep your life. Make him, whoever he is, wait for a bit. Make him work a bit.”

  “You mean while we’re having sex?”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face and exhaled. “No.” He dropped his hands.
“You do that just fine,” he assured her. “But it wouldn’t hurt to wait before, you know, you have sex.”

  “Should I have made you wait?”

  “No.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots on. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make other men wait.”

  “If I made you wait would you want to date me?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m not that guy.” Not anymore, he thought bitterly.

  “Oh.” Her bottom lip jutted out into a pout. “You’re not going to call me, are you?”

  “You want the truth?” He bent over and pulled on his boots.

  “Yeah.” She nodded.

  “Probably not,” he told her honestly, which was so out of character for him he started questioning his sanity.

  “Oh.”

  Standing up he grabbed his black leather jacket and tossed it over his shoulder.

  “Did you at least have a good time?”

  “Yes. Very much,” he said surprised at how true that statement was. He hadn’t had sex since Cecily screwed him over. Bitch. Thinking about her made his insides twist and his chest tighten again.

  “I guess you were hurt pretty bad, huh?”

  He did a double take, surprised by her insightfulness. “Yeah, I was,” he admitted.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Why?” He frowned. “You didn’t do it.”

  “I know but I didn’t fix it.”

  “You know…” He gave her a questioning look. What was her name? Damn.

  “Tracy,” she supplied seemingly reading his mind.

  “As I was saying, Tracy…” he made a point to stress her name. “ You are going to make some guy very lucky one day.”

  She grabbed his hand. “I might want to wait for you.”

  “I might not come back.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Oh.” Her brows creased and she released his hand. “Then I might not.”

  Lucian laughed. Reaching forward, he ran his hand over her flaxen hair and kissed her gently on top of her head. “Be good,” he told her and then walked out of her life as quickly as he had walked into it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Come on, you piece of shit!” Gnashing her teeth together, Molly hit the steering wheel in frustration. Jerking the door open, she climbed out of her sputtering car into the sweltering heat of the late afternoon mountain sun and immediately began dripping sweat.

  Large billowing clouds of steam squeezed out from under the hood of her car. Lifting her hand, she shielded her eyes and looked up the road. Above the blacktop, the air rippled from the heat, distorting her view. It didn’t matter—she knew where she was—it was what her and Peggy like to call, BFE! (Bumfuck, Egypt)

  Molly groaned when she caught sight of her reflection in the side view mirror. This morning it had taken her two hours to style her hair for Peggy’s wedding, she wanted Dan to see what he was missing out on, but now, even the wild flowers entwined in the length had wilted and were more frizz than curl at this point. Her beautiful makeup that looked awesome this morning was sliding off her face like a melted wax figure from Madame Trousseau’s museum.

  Peggy and Marshall, the couple headed to happily ever after, were getting married at an abandoned Emerald mine in Little Switzerland, North Carolina, because Peggy thought it would be romantic. What she didn’t say was that it was also presumably haunted and since her father owned the mine, it made a cheap place to have a wedding. They were an unconventional couple, or so Peggy often said. Molly figured they were more thrifty than unconventional but refrained from saying as much since it wasn’t her place to do so.

  Peggy also had the bright idea for Molly to bring up the booze (a gift for the wedding from her father), from his bar/restaurant in Lake Lure, North Carolina that she ran for him.

  Not too far away was Chimney Rock state park, a behemoth mountain with a rock formation that looked like a chimney and had an actual elevator inside. The mountain used to be privately owned and a big favorite for hikers, that is, until it was sold to the state. Then lots of the paths and trails were closed due to the dangers of falling off said paths and trails. Molly had even climbed it a few times and bought the t-shirt “I climbed Chimney Rock” as a souvenir.

  If she ever got married, that is where she wanted to have her own wedding. Right on the top…well, the only accessible top of the mountain, which was 2, 446 feet in the air, called Exclamation Point, with the world she knew beneath little specks in the fading horizon. Not that she had any prospects—not since old limpy noodle (her new name for Dan) dumped her, but she could dream, couldn’t she?

  Pulling out her phone from the car, she lifted it in the air.

  “Damnit!” She stomped her sneaker clad foot and threw her phone back on the seat beside her strappy heels that she opted not to wear while driving. She wished she had thought to do the same with her dress. At least she was wearing biker shorts underneath—her makeshift girdle so she wouldn’t get crack sweat on the back of the taffeta mermaid gown that Peggy had picked out for her to wear.

  Looking up the road, she figured she had two choices. Either she could walk in the heat up the steep mountain road or she could wait and see if someone passed by that she could flag down. Sitting on her seat, she chose the latter because there was no way in hell she was walking anywhere in a dress that had her trussed up to the point she could barely take a breath.

  More sweat poured down between her cleavage and the poufy sleeves of the emerald green gown deflated around her shoulders like airless balloons.

  ♣

  Sun dappled across the worn pavement filtering through the overhanging branches as Lucian rode his bike up the scenic mountain parkway. His motorcycle tires hugged the road as he downshifted into another switch back. He wasn’t real sure why he picked North Carolina to disappear but it seemed as good as place as any. The hurt and betrayal from Cecily still plagued him—not to mention his brother’s tightfisted ways. If it weren’t for the bitch and his brother’s tightfisted ways Lucian wouldn’t even be in the mess he was in right now.

  Or so he tried to tell himself as the fall leaves blurred before his eyes in a kaleidoscope of color, as his mind drifted back to the night Cecily had betrayed him.

  Lucian -Ravenhurst Cabin-memory

  CECILY hastily pulled on her clothes. “What did you say?”

  “What?” Lucian asked, pulling on his boots.

  “Come on, Lucian. Cut the shit. What did you say?”

  Lucian stood up and raked his hand through his hair, a vulnerable look sliding over his face. “I told you I loved you.”

  Tugging at the bottom of her shirt, she swallowed hard. “You love me?”

  “Yes. I think I do,” he said with meaning.

  “It’s an either, or, question, Lucian. Not an, I think,” she snapped, not wanting to believe him. It would change everything. All this time she had been so sure he was just using her.

  “Damn it, Cecily!” He shook his head. “Why do you make everything so damn hard?”

  She felt pangs of doubt in her gut. “It is a simple question.”

  “What is love, if not what we share together?”

  “So poetic and yet still not a definitive answer to my very singular question.” She turned away, brushing hot tears from her face, hating herself for even caring.

  He reached forward and placed his finger under her chin, turning her face toward his own. “The singular answer to your question is…yes,” he breathed and then gently placed a kiss on her lips. When she didn’t respond, he pulled back. “Aren’t you happy?”

  “I am,” she insisted, feeling sick. “More than you will ever know.”

  He dropped his hand. “Could have fooled me,” he said, looking wounded.

  Cecily took a breath. “Lucian, I didn’t know.” She twisted her hands together.

  “What didn’t you know?” He eyed her cautiously now.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I had no idea you felt that way…ab
out me.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t usually make it a habit to talk about my feelings. It still doesn’t mean that it is not true.”

  “Oh, Lucian,” she sobbed, looking at his handsome face, a bitter residue in her mouth.

  “Come on baby, don’t cry.” He stepped forward and stroked her face, wiping her tear stained cheeks with his thumbs. “I hope these are tears of happiness?”

  Sniffing loudly, she shook her head and tried to stop but when she looked at him again, she began to cry anew.

  “Baby, you are starting to give me a complex.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “What is there to understand,” he asked, his brow creasing—the pang of uncertainty hitting him square in the chest. “You do love me too…right?”

  “Yes,” she cried.

  Relief washed over him but it was short lived.

  “You…you…said, you couldn’t…that you wouldn’t ever…Oh my God?” She looked upward. “What have I done?”

  Lucian staggered backward, feeling like he had been suckered punched in his gut. It all became crystal-clear. “You didn’t?” he said, barely audible. “Baby please, tell me you didn’t tell them where I am…did you?” He gave her a pleading look.

  Her silence was all the affirmation he needed.

  He looked around the small cabin, a place that had been his sanctuary for longer than he cared to admit, and now it was closing in on him. He always liked that it was small, open, the simplicity of the place. Now it was too small, too open. There was no place to hide. The familiar feeling of fear crept inside the very place he had sought refuge when he was younger, when he was scared. Now he was terrified to be here. “How long?” he asked.

  Lifting her hands helplessly in the air, she shook her head.

  “Cecily how long?” he yelled, frantic now. Grabbing his leather jacket up, he tossed it on.

  “I don’t know!”

  “I don’t have the fucking money, Cecily!” he railed, pacing now. “They will kill me.”

  “No Lucian, they said they only wanted to talk to you,” she wailed, sobbing uncontrollably, her words barely coherent. “They promised.”