by J D Worth
“And that’s not convenient at all?”
“Supposedly, that’s his routine. At four, Pretty Boy was gone.” Mace digs into his glove compartment and drops a cheap cell phone in my hand. “Call him. That’s a burner phone, so no chance being traced back to either of us.”
I stare at his phone, wondering why anyone needs a “burner phone” in the first place. “I don’t know his cell. I don’t know him that well at all. He trailed after me at the Christmas party and asked me out on a date, which I turned down. Every time I showed up at Aster Holdings, he’d pop up in front of me and ask me out again. I’d politely decline and hide in William’s office to get rid of him. After that, he’d show up at weird spots when I was out in the city like at the New York Public Library and once at the Guggenheim. Knowing I’d turn him down again, he went over my head by asking my grandmother to be my wedding escort.”
“Work?”
I dial his department, asking, “I need to get through to my broker Chaz Everett, and I have been unsuccessful. Could you please ring his extension?”
“May I ask who is calling?”
“Tell him it’s Brittany, Georgina Aster’s best friend.” She puts me on hold.
Mace asks, “Brittany?”
I cover the receiver and say, “She’s the bridesmaid he showered with the most attention. He wouldn’t miss her call if he’s at the office.”
“Well, ain’t he a gentleman.” Mace glowers.
I hold my finger up, pausing our conversion. The secretary says, “I’m sorry he’s unavailable. There is another broker in charge of his accounts for the time being. Would you like me to forward your call?”
“I recall he mentioned something about taking his vacation this week.”
“I don’t see that on the master schedule.” I shake my head at Mace.
“Thank you, I’ll call later.” I return Mace’s phone. “If my grandmother had anything to do with this, bruises or not, Chaz would’ve flown back and been at work this morning. If my father did give him the week off, he may be hiding until his bruises heal. The other brokers would never let him live down getting his ass kicked. Their jobs are all about stroking their egos.”
“Or maybe he’s hiding from your grandmomma after she got wind of what happened. You told me she’d do anything to protect the Aster name.”
“Chaz wouldn’t confess something like that, and she never asked me about Saturday night.”
“I overheard your stepmomma scolding you ’bout your shoes when I passed by. Your grandmomma could’ve learned you didn’t return to your room to change out your shoes. There are logged key codes on the resort doors and security cameras everywhere.”
I rest against the Jeep in deep thought. “Occam’s Razor. Sometimes the simplest solution is the answer.”
“Okay, apply the simplest solution then ’cause I ain’t seeing one here.”
“Chaz was being held, yet wasn’t officially processed at County Lockup, so there’s no real paper or electronic trail there. All because Chaz’s lawyer bribed his client out. He put a hold on his arrest, making it appear as if Chaz never spent a day in jail. Lawyers and brokers have similar professions and both behave like magicians. Whomever Chaz, or his lawyer, bribed made sure Chaz disappeared in the middle of the night. The guard returns to find Chaz missing. The guard calls the sheriff because there’s no booking paperwork, immediately knowing the release was an inside job, and he doesn’t want to look guilty. Someone had to have the correct keys.”
“Whatever happened, we need to stick together on this. I underestimated him once, so you should probably keep that machete inside your cottage in case he shows up here.”
“He doesn’t know I’m at this cottage.”
“We don’t know shit ’bout what he knows and doesn’t. He popped up every time you were in his vicinity. Sounds as if he’s been keeping tabs, gathering as much information as he could. He got to you by going through your grandmomma after you kept refusing him, didn’t he?”
I rub my eyes under my sunglasses. “I can’t believe this situation has escalated the way it has.”
“Hal will sort this out. Sonny won’t drop the charges. He wants restitution from that punk.”
“I was hoping for a nice, relaxing retreat. This is the opposite.”
“The crew will be ’round, and I have a scanner at my garage. You call Hal if something comes up. You could always run to the resort if need be. You know the back way in and the codes that will get you through those doors.” I squint at him. “I don’t fool ’round, Princess. I’ll make sure you’re safe here.”
“Like the motorcycle helmet you brought over for me. Where’s Darla?”
“She can’t go where we’re going today. Let’s get outta here. No use pondering where Pretty Boy will shit next.” Mace opens the door and invites me to sit in his Jeep. He goes as far as fastening the seat belt for me before folding his large frame into the spacious vehicle with ease. His smile turns coy, pulling out of my driveway with a heavy foot on the gas.
“And where do you plan on ditching me today?” I ask, hoping to break the tension left over from last night’s awkward goodbye and this morning’s precarious situation.
“Some place wild.” His deep voice rumbles.
“Some place so wild that we need a Jeep to get there?”
“Lots of sand, so we need the four-wheel drive. Don’t worry. We’re only going to the Outer Banks. You ever been?”
“No, this is my first time in North Carolina.” As we begin to pick up speed, my long hair whips around my head. The straightener and hair products have all washed out, and my curls are back, wilder than ever. In vain, I try taming my hair by pulling my long strands back into a ponytail. Mace snatches my hair band and throws it out the window. “Hey, I needed that!” I scramble so both hands hold back my hair.
He runs his fingers down a long curly lock, holding up the end. “That’s the real you breaking for freedom, so stop fighting it.” He shifts the Jeep, going faster than before. My body lurches back as a thrill unfurls from deep inside. Easing back in the seat, I take in the salty air while my long hair blows free all around me. I gaze up at the cotton candy clouds spread against the watercolor blue sky, smiling at the sun shining down upon us.
I move the strands away from my face again, turning to him with a raised mischievous eyebrow. “Lilith says nobody trusts a woman with curly hair. They don’t look honest and display wild and loose tendencies.”
“Wild and loose, huh?” He smirks at me. “I didn’t know we were still in the nineteen fifties.”
I give him a side-eye. “That’s precisely how the gender norms feels on Wall Street. There’s no room for error when the wealthy want to keep their money and only make more. Appearance is everything, particularly for women. In the business world, curly hair is an actual business risk.” My body droops in the seat. “Not long after my mother passed, my father forced Saturday spa days from hell upon me. I spend the mornings with Georgina, receiving spa services that primp us within an inch of our lives. Followed by lunch with Lilith. While we dine, my grandmother surveys my academic progress for the week and gives me ‘advice’ to improve. Georgina and I spend the afternoon shopping for hours. The same weekly routine has existed for three pathetic, long years. Once Georgina entered my life, I’ve learned to live with straightened hair. Until now. I left all the expensive hair care bottles at the resort without looking back.”
“It’s a start. Soon you’ll be off to Harvard. No one will be over your shoulder, telling you how to dress or behave.”
I exhale a tense breath I’ve seemed to hold since New York. How can I possibly make him understand the rules for how to dress and behave still exist because my family is always looking over my shoulder?
Mace pulls off the main road and takes us up a wide expanse of sand on the beach. “Princess, hold on.” The curl of his lips deepens. “The ride is gonna get mighty bumpy.”
I
mutter under my breath, “That may be the case from here on out.” I grab the handle on the door by the roof and the edge of my seat. He shifts the Jeep for more traction as we trek north. The long smooth stretch of beach is stunning.
We reach a clearing, and Mace pulls off and drives around a large slope, stopping at the top of a large sandy plateau that overlooks the ocean.
“I see why you need a Jeep for these kind of things.”
He opens my door and grabs a pair of binoculars from the glove compartment and hands them over to me. “Here you go.”
“We need binoculars? Are we casing a property or what? You stole my car, my drink, and my hairband. I’m afraid of what you have in mind for a ‘wild’ time.”
“Not quite.” He laughs a low rumble, placing the binoculars over my head. He snatches a thick wool blanket from the back seat and holds his hand out, helping me step down from the Jeep.
“Are we having a picnic? You don’t really seem the picnic type either.” I snicker as he walks around to the front of the Jeep and spreads the blanket across the overheated hood for me to sit on.
Mace leans into me and inhales deep into his chest. “Damn, is that sugar cookie?” He lifts me up.
I cling to his shoulders while my thighs grip his body for balance, thrilled by the close contact. “Hey, you startled me there!”
Mace grins at me. “It’s only fair, you keep surprising the hell outta me.” He brings my body closer to the edge, remaining between my legs. His hands slide up my legs and continue upwards, smoothing my savage hair away from my face. The intimate gesture intrigues me as his eyes pull me in. He sinks his fingers into my hair while moving his thumbs along the side of my cheeks.
Shifting close to me, his rough lips almost touch mine. “What am I supposed to do ’bout you?” Mace asks. He locks his passionate and possessive lips upon mine. Our lips mold into perfection. Letting out a regrettable groan, he eases back. “One night wouldn’t do it for me. You got me, Princess?”
I tilt my head back in resignation. Mace makes me question my unfulfilled life. I’ve been sleepwalking through my gray existence, and he yanked me into the real world, filled with vibrant color. His green eyes are what shook me awake the night I ran into him. The next morning, I made note of the glossy red soles of my shoes. I recall how beautiful the gold foil wrapped chocolates were. The pink at the reception was so overwhelming that I had a mini breakdown. The colors in the cottage are what first caught my eyes, even the hydrangeas on the pottery canisters. The red seats and faded blue tables at the diner sprang up at me. I keep searching the rich green landscape for a color that matches his eyes. The sky, the sun, and my surroundings are surging with life, and I’m soaking the colors up like a rainbow.
“We good?” he asks.
I nod my head in understanding. “Can you hold still for one moment?” He smiles as I push my sunglasses onto my head and do the same with his. Touching his sculpted cheeks with my hands, I stare into his eyes, trying to commit the color to memory. I survey the gold and hazel flecks that make up his irises and a secret hint of blue that blends all the colors to green. The combination belongs in a painting. A masterpiece. I can’t quite place the exact color just yet. The clandestine hue will remain a little longer.
I drop my hands and smile. “Okay, I’m good now.”
“Are you sure?” His lips skate over mine. I hum out a response.
My hum grows when his lips touch mine. “Mmm…”
“Now I want you to do something for me.”
“What?” My body is on the edge of desire again.
He turns, remaining between my legs and lifts the binoculars to scan the beach below. “Look over there.”
I duck my head to his level as he points down the beach, squinting at movement in the distance. Several cinnamon-colored horses flash in the sun, frolicking in the water down the beach from us. “Wow, they’re beautiful!”
“Sure are, Princess.”
“What are they doing here?”
“They’ve been flourishing here for almost five hundred years. Historians believe the Spanish explorers abandoned ’em. They’re protected by the state now.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Thought you’d love seeing the horses run free.”
“I appreciate this. We sold mine when my mother got sick.”
Mace gives me a tight smile. “Be patient. More of ’em will come. They like the grasses that grow on the slopes over there.”
“Thank you for sharing this little adventure with me. I would’ve never thought wild horses could thrive on a beach.”
“Sometimes we lose things that are important only to gain ’em back in a different way,” Mace says, watching the horses through the binoculars.
I stare at him long and hard as his words resonate deep within me.
“My momma and her sister used to summer here when they were kids. Researched what kind of grasses the horses would eat. They’d save their change up and go to the feed store, buying baggies full of seeds. Then toss the seeds on the slopes and check back later to see if the horses would eat their grasses.”
“Would they?”
“The slopes were always picked clean of the fresh grass.”
There is a moment in his speech that gives away the vulnerability of loss. I am not the only one who has lost my mother here. “What happened to her?” Softening my idiocy, I cover my mouth. “That’s none of my business, so you don’t have to share. I’m being impolite.”
“Impolite? Why beat a dead horse when there’s lives ones down there?”
“Because I should know better. I have a hard time following the script.”
“You can’t follow a script. Life doesn’t come with one. No matter how hard you try to control your surroundings, you can’t. I have no problem telling you ’bout my momma. She was a good girl who fell in love with someone who loved booze more. My old man has never been abusive. He’s just your standard drunk. We’ve always made do. One day something better came along for her, and I stayed behind.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be, Princess. Staying in Haven was my choice, and you’re not any different. After your momma passed, you had to make do yourself. We do what we have to so we can survive in our situations. Sometimes those decisions are tough to swallow.” His intense stormy green eyes burn into mine as if he’s sending me a warning about being with him. I escape by heading away from my family during holiday breaks. His escape sounds more ominous. “Look.” He points up the beach.
A whole herd makes their way to graze on the grasses. We watch the horses for a long time in silence and take a stroll along the beach before heading back to my cottage.
Mace drops me off at my place with a curt, “Later.” His Jeep kicks up dirt on the way out. We haven’t made any plans for later or even exchanged cell numbers. Once again, he’s put himself in control of the situation. I press my heels against the dirt in frustration and head towards the house.
I stop a foot from my doorstep.
Nailed into the door is a photograph of Mace and me, leaning against the hood of his Jeep taken just a few hours ago. The stubby nail through my head taints our innocent moment with malice. Without thinking, I tear the photo from the wood and stuff it in the mailbox. A creeping sensation starts at the base of my neck and slithers down my spine as I search my yard for any clues of unwelcomed guests. I pull the nail out and squeeze the metal in my hand as a pounding hammer draws me to Cal’s cottage.
I squint up at him as he fixes the flashing around the chimney. I can’t imagine Cal following me or leaving that menacing message behind. I snatch one of his nails, which matches the one in my hand. I drop both into the extra box sitting out on his messy worktable. The same pile of wood and tools are here that I passed by on Monday. Anyone could access the spare hammer and nails. He grins when he spots me and climbs down for a break, greeting me by pulling out a cold beer from a cooler. I decli
ne his offer as he swallows back several gulps of his own.
“Hey, Cal, did you see anyone come or go to my cottage while I was gone?”
“Sorry, I didn’t. I got here a half hour ago.” He eyes me while dipping a hand towel into the melting ice in his cooler. He takes time wiping the cool cotton across his lobster red face. Draping the towel around his neck, he asks, “Today turned out to be a scorcher, didn’t it?”
“Every day seems hot as hell to me, so I couldn’t tell you what is normal here.” He chuckles. I tap his shoulder, winking. “Thanks for last night and delivering my takeout. I can imagine how much grief you gave Mace yesterday at the diner. I hope Mace treated you to lunch for giving him a ride to the garage.”
“That he did. I saw him drop you off. You two hanging out, or what?”
