Zane

by Liv Bennett

  Michael might be gone, but depraved men are everywhere, and I’m exposing myself to them with inappropriate clothes that reveal my body to their wicked eyes.

  As soon as the bakery girl comes back with the cake, I hurry out and into my car and slide on my cardigan. Tears sting my eyes. I quickly blink several times to prevent my makeup from getting ruined. The last thing I need right now is raccoon eyes.

  I cover my torso with the cardigan nonetheless and cross my arms across my chest, unconsciously leaning back and forth, while the hurtful memories play in my mind with sordid details.

  CH 15 - JULIE - The Shock

  ~

  My phone rings in my bag with a text, startling me, reminding me of the little time I have left before I’ll ruin the party.

  The text is from Scarlet. She’s so sweet, she’s not complaining about my unusual tardiness, but letting me know that no one has arrived yet. Checking my makeup through the rearview mirror, I apply a fresh layer of my dark-pink gloss and start the engine.

  Scarlet meets me at the entrance of her apartment building and grabs the box of cake. “Thank you for saving me the trouble. I’ve been cooking since the crack of the dawn and even so, the food isn’t ready yet.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I push the elevator button and straighten my dress and cardigan.

  My move catches her attention, and dismissing my question, she smiles. “Oh, my God! Julie, look at you. You look lovely.”

  I wave at her and mirror her smile, trying to contain the thrill of being flattered, albeit by a girl, although I’m aware it’s beyond silly of me. What am I, fifteen, needing confirmation of my appearance from a female peer?

  “I had a simple menu,” she begins when we step into the elevator. “Some finger food, and a salad and soup bar. That should be enough, right? Apparently not! Grannie didn’t even let me finish when I mentioned finger food. Mom threatened to disown me. I know she was joking, but a salad bar is apparently an insult to them.” She recounts to me the full list of food she had to cook. It seems we have a feast coming up. I feel glad for having skipped eating cookies.

  Her mother and grandmother are just like Scarlet, and welcome me with sincere hospitality, hugging me and slipping me a large plate filled with samples of the food we’re going to be served during the party. Then, they all excuse themselves to go change.

  While nibbling the delicious food, I open the fridge doors and glance around in it to find a place big enough for the birthday cake. When I hear a knock on the front door, I quickly push the box onto the top shelf and run to get the door.

  Zane stands at the doorway with his bedroom eyes bright and his lips curled up into a mischievous smile. He’s wearing a brown leather jacket, blue shirt, and jeans that have me drooling for him on the spot.

  “Hey, there!” He ruffles my hair and walks into the condo, while inspecting the living room space. “Where’s everyone?” He turns to me and slips his hands into the side-pockets of his jeans, looking like a model with his bulging muscles. He’s stunning, and my knees are starting to wobble.

  “Scarlet and her mom and grandma will be back in a minute. They’re changing. Her brothers must be out somewhere.” I walk up to him in the hope that he’ll study me as intently as he did at my condo, cursing myself for having buttoned the cardigan from top to bottom. Unbuttoning it now would be absurd and raise eyebrows at my insanity rather than my good looks, if I have any.

  Still, my makeup is different than usual, more sensual and playful, and my hair is down around my shoulders. I should have enough appeal to attract his attention to me, right?

  Apparently, no. Zane’s otherwise inquisitive eyes land on the cream-colored leather couch before he leisurely strolls toward it, without so much as looking at my face. Shrugging out of his jacket, he lays it on the armrest and settles in the middle of the couch, his long arms spread on the back of the couch. “Nice condo, comfortable couch.”

  It hurts me how sexy he looks without even trying.

  “Yeah, she has good taste.” I move toward the armchair right across from him and stand for a moment before sitting to give him a chance to take a look at my body. He doesn’t look and instead continues assessing the room. I come close to yelling at him to stop gazing at the nonliving objects when I, a very much living being, need those beautiful eyes of his on me, preferably at all times.

  “You look good,” I say, the words I’d rather him say to me. “I mean, you sounded very disappointed on the phone.” Giving up, I sit on the armchair that pulls me in, making sure nothing of my body is seen. I should have checked my horoscope today, at least I’d have had a heads-up about the bad luck that seems to be my destiny today.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugs. Dark and distant, his eyes wander across the room. “I think I’m done with dating. It’s not working.”

  “What?” I shake my head vigorously. “You only had two bad dates. That’s just the beginning. No one said you’d find your future wife immediately.”

  Finally, he turns his face to me but to shoot me an indifferent glance. “It’s really not for me. I’m not made for marriage. I guess I’ll go Ricky Martin’s way and pay a woman to bear my kids. I’ll have her sign a contract to release all her parental rights to me, but I’ll keep her around to take care of the kids. It worked well for Ricky. With the right girl, why shouldn’t it work for me, too?”

  “What? You’re going to hire the mother of your kids?” I’m not the only one who’s insane, but somehow that thought isn’t calming.

  He shrugs and nods. “Yeah. It’s the best solution.”

  “Your kids deserve a loving family, not a contractual relationship.”

  “Marriage is a contractual relationship, too. Besides, don’t fifty percent of marriages end in divorce? It’s impractical to tie all my chances to just one woman.” He tries to sound uncaring, but I can hear the disappointment in his voice. Something else must be bothering him. Have I led him to believe he’s not worthy of a woman’s love and commitment by ruining his date with Ashley?

  “You’re gonna regret it. Your children will resent you for buying their mother.” It’s actually me who’s regretful…for manipulating him. He might be a self-indulgent womanizer, but he’s a good man and doesn’t deserve to be robbed of his self-confidence.

  A knock on the door comes to my rescue, because I don’t have anything else to tell him, much less to give him a reason to continue with my manipulative plan.

  When I stand to get the door, the sound of giggles from upstairs makes me turn my head to the three ladies walking down the stairs in beautiful and elegant dresses. Wow. My jaw drops at the bright colors—pink, red, and purple.

  The front door shakes with a loud banging. “Scarlet, open the door.”

  “That must be one of my seven impatient brothers,” Scarlet says with a slight shake of disapproval of her head, looking absolutely beautiful in her pink dress, the way I should have looked in mine, but contrary to me, she’s proudly presenting her lean body without any interference of a baggy cardigan.

  I hurry to open the door and exactly seven tall, blond, and well-built men stroll into the living room. I’m a woman in love with another man, but these guests are so hot, I can’t stop my eyes from growing large and roaming up and down their bodies.

  “Hey!” They line up to shake hands and introduce themselves to me, then to Zane. Joshua, Jason, Joseph, Justin, Jonathan, Jeremy. I guess their parents ran out of names that start with J, because the last one, also the youngest, is Benjamin. They at least managed to scoop a J in the middle.

  “We heard someone is aging today,” Justin, the oldest, I assume, says cringing his face dramatically.

  “Yeah, I don’t know what there is to celebrate about hitting the wall soon,” Jason comments with a loud laugh.

  Confused, I glance at them, blinking heavily. “She’s only turning twenty-three. That’s hardly hitting the wall?” Whatever wall they’re talking about, I must have hit it long ago and e
ven torn it down with my twenty-nine years on earth, according to their definition.

  “Don’t listen to my brothers. They’re being silly, as always.” Scarlet comes and punches playfully against Jason’s arm. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my bosses.”

  Scarlet’s mother and grandmother approach and help her scatter the boys with commanding hand gestures. The boys comply and head to the kitchen.

  Taking advantage of the sudden silence that comes with the disappearance of the boys, Zane walks toward Scarlet’s grandmother and grabs her hand gently. “Please tell me if you’re Scarlet’s mother or her aunt, because I’m perplexed by the striking resemblance.” Lifting her hand, he brushes her knuckles with his lips until the old lady squirms with joy.

  “I’m Margaret, and grandmother would be right.” She corrects him while giggling like a school girl. That’s what Zane does to women, no matter what their age.

  “That is impossible.” Zane shakes his head in disbelief, his beautiful eyes large and unbelieving.

  “It’s true, my dear.” Turning to Scarlet’s mother, she introduces her. “And this is my daughter, Helen.”

  Letting Margaret’s hand go, Zane reaches for Helen’s. “Pleasure to meet you. I assume you adopted those seven cowboys.”

  Helen laughs with an absolute pleasure echoing in her voice. “I wish.” She lets Zane kiss her hand and then heads for the kitchen along with Margaret and Scarlet.

  Zane gapes after them. “This is unreal. They say, check out her mother before marrying a girl to see how she’ll look in twenty, thirty years down the road. But, this? That’s the hottest grannie I’ve ever seen. Sizzling. Wow…just wow.”

  No one claims otherwise, but it’s strange Zane points that out, especially the part about marriage. Is he considering Scarlet that way? I’ve never given it a thought, since Scarlet is so very young and the most important employee in the biggest show of his life so far.

  “She’s working for you,” I indicate with a rather obvious tone of alarm in my voice.

  He cranes his head and glances at me sideways without saying a word, the twitch of his lips telling everything about his thoughts. He likes her. He finds her attractive. He wouldn’t waste a second to jump at her if the circumstances allowed.

  My heart splits in two. Has he been attracted to her all along? While I was plotting ways to get his attention? I feel sick to my stomach.

  His hands in his pockets, he starts walking toward the kitchen to join the crowd and perhaps to gain the heart of the young, innocent girl he likes.

  A tear runs down my cheek. Zane has been my focus of attention, the one person who monopolized most of my thoughts for so long, I fear for the future ahead. It’s freeing on one hand. On the other, it’s very lonely. He’s my only family. Chloe and Ace are locked in their own worlds and barely have time for me. And, I’ve been in love with Zane for longer than I can remember. I can’t just rip away my feelings for him and pretend I haven’t been practically living with him in my mind twenty-four/seven.

  That’s why I shouldn’t throw in the towel yet. Not without a decent fight.

  A knock on the front door has me quickly reaching for my face and drying my cheek, and I hurry to get it. The four main male actors of Frat House show up with large gift boxes and bouquets of flowers. They’re all insanely good-looking and also very sweet guys. Once again, I’m baffled by Zane’s instincts in choosing such a crew of wonderful and dedicated actors who are also breathtakingly handsome.

  “Come on in,” I say cheerfully and open the door, standing beside it to let them in.

  They give me hugs and then one by one disappear into the kitchen, where from the sound of it, the party is taking place. Scarlet talked of a small party, so I guess no one else is coming. I’m surprised Brad isn’t invited. The director of the show is losing fans with his recent I’m-the-king-of-Hollywood attitude after adding the Emmy award for best director to his portfolio.

  I draw a long breath to shake away the feeling of discomfort. When my muscles refuse to relax, I head for the bathroom and pat my forehead and neck with a washcloth soaked in cold water, glancing at my reflection.

  It’s not the first time Zane has shown interest in another female and it won’t be the last unless I take control of the reins. Scarlet is a great girl, no doubt about it. In fact she’s a perfect girl all around, but it doesn’t mean she’ll be the perfect fit for Zane.

  Zane is a man of flaws. His flaws can actually fill a football field. Loving him means accepting him with all his imperfections. I can do that. I already do that. I go to bed, thinking of him, and open my eyes wondering how he’s doing. He’ll eventually see the truth by himself. I don’t intend to force myself on him. But, I’ll make sure he won’t have to mold into someone that he’s not, just to appease a woman who doesn’t get him.

  Drying my skin and applying a fresh coat of gloss to my lips, I leave the bathroom and walk to the kitchen. Two more guests have arrived, both from the crew, Scarlet’s makeup artist and stylist, and they’re joyfully chatting with Scarlet’s brothers.

  My eyes look for Zane in the crowd, and when I finally find him, talking with Scarlet’s grandmother, he turns his head to wink at me. I can’t help my insides melting at his gesture. Scarlet starts carrying plates and silverware to the dining room and I hurry to lend her a helping hand, grabbing the trays of finger food. Benjamin, the youngest of the brothers, snaps up more trays and helps Scarlet set the table with a practiced ease.

  The guests surround the table and attack the delicious food. I resist my urges and take only small samples of the food while conversing with Nick, one of the lead male actors in the show, and Chelsea the makeup artist, while occasionally exchanging glances with Zane. Every time my eyes look for him, he responds to my search with a sensual twitch of his lips and a rueful frown of his eyebrows.

  Finally, someone switches off the lights, and Grandma Margaret walks into the dining room with the birthday cake decorated with two candles in the shapes of 2 and 3. Zane starts the Happy Birthday song and everyone quickly joins in, creating a loud choir under Scarlet’s joyful gaze. She looks like she can hardly contain herself from jumping up and down, and as soon as the song ends, she blows out the candles with the sheer joy of a young child.

  “Make a wish,” her mother calls out.

  Scarlet closes her eyes for a brief moment, her hands laced before her mouth as she makes her wish. Everyone claps hands and cheers. When she opens her eyes, with a huge grin, she lands them on no one other than Zane, who’s standing right across from her on the other side of the dining table. I don’t miss the intense longing and the deep penetration in her gaze, which has me frowning with fear and worry in a heartbeat, because Zane is reciprocating her gaze with an equal directness.

  Then, she picks up a glass of champagne, holding it up and toward Zane. “I’d like to make a toast before cutting the cake.” Her words draw cheers and more claps from the guests while I stand frozen, my eyes glued to the unmistakable exchange of glances between Scarlet and Zane.

  Scarlet begins when everyone else grabs a glass of champagne off the table. “I’m an insanely lucky girl. Exactly eight years ago, on my fifteenth birthday, my biggest wish was getting accepted to the State University for a nursing degree. I’d then find a job at the local hospital and have a safe and stable life. That was my dream.” Her voice falters and she pauses, rubbing her lips while filling her lungs with fresh air. “Then, my life changed into something I wouldn’t even have wished in my wildest dreams. I was given a chance to be more than what I could have ever imagined. I have many people to thank for that, but only one person that’ll have my undying gratitude for making Scarlet Landford a household name, and it’s you, Zane.” She lifts her glass higher, to reveal a large smile. “I would never have been here if you hadn’t picked me for the role. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

  My stomach churns as the realization of losing Zane hits me like a heavy blow. I’m losing him.

&
nbsp; Zane rounds the large dining table between them and holds out his hand to Scarlet, and Scarlet catches his in the air, her face lit up and her eyes sparkling with an ecstatic look.

  “If anything,” Zane responds. “You are the one who made Frat House what it is today.”

  I’m going to throw up at the unusually charged exchange between the man I love and the girl any man would risk dying for while they hold hands. Then, fortunately, Zane pulls his hand away, and Scarlet picks up the knife and starts cutting the cake.

  The worst thing is, I can’t even be mad at this girl. If it were any other woman, I’d start hatching plans to get rid of her, but Scarlet? She’s not only vital to Frat House, she’s really a good and kind girl with practically no malice or hidden agenda beneath her glossy personality. I’ve met enough people to know she is who she seems to be without any pretensions.

  But, it doesn’t mean I won’t act. I still have a shot at this. I won’t give up before giving my last breath in this war of love. I only have to step up my game. And for that, I need to lose my fears, the first of which is my anxiety over being sexually objectified by men. And that means getting rid of my cardigan.

  I excuse myself and disappear into the bathroom. My heart is beating fast, my stomach filled with flutters as I slide out of the cardigan and admire the beautiful dress once it’s not shielded by my cardigan. Zane should have seen me this way when he first walked into the party. He’s only a man and wouldn’t remain unaffected by the sensuality the dress adds to my looks.

  How strange it is that I yearn for him to gaze at me like the man in the bakery earlier, while that man’s hungry look did nothing but scare the hell out of me.

  With a deep breath of air, I hang the cardigan on the back of the door and step out of the bathroom. I return to the party, standing on shaky legs, but thankfully no one notices my wobbly steps.