The Proposal

by Jennifer Lewis

  Jack shrugged. “It was an all-night card game. I was doing so well.”

  “Was, being the key word.”

  “I didn’t expect it to get so out of hand.”

  “Do you realize how pathetic it makes you, standing here, asking your son to give you that much money?”

  Jack drew a hand through his damp hair, frustration breaking through. “Don’t you think I know?”

  “Then find some other way,” Benton dismissed, despite the tension gripping him, rolling through his back, at the thought of his father being killed for money.

  “Jesus, Ben, I can’t.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Benton shoved from the Jeep, advancing on him. “You lost that right a long time ago.” Only his mother called him that, and she was dead.

  Jack threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Try not gambling and drinking your life away.”

  His father laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. “Yeah, if it were that easy. Not everyone is as disciplined and perfect as you, son.”

  “I never said I was perfect.”

  “You sure act like it.”

  “You don’t get to pass judgment on me, Jack.”

  “But you do me?” Jack fired back, pointing a finger at him.

  “When you come to me, asking for my wallet and nothing else, you bet I damn well will.”

  Jack’s shoulders dropped. “Fine. When you see my name in the paper, you can feel happy knowing you helped.”

  Gritting his teeth, Benton said, “Get the hell out of here. You made your bed, now lie in it.”

  With nothing more than a sigh, Jack turned his back and walked to his car, getting in and driving away. Benton stood in the rain for a while, watching it hit the pavement in the lights of his Jeep. Guilt ate at him, like maggots in rotten fruit. Could he let his old man die like that? He didn’t earn his money to throw it away on bullshit like this.

  One thing was for sure, Jack would be back. He wouldn’t give up that easily.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite the slow start of Monday, the week passed quickly. Friday night rushed up to greet her. Purse slung across her shoulder, Andrea followed the click of her heels toward her car in the muffled space of the parking garage. Her keys dangled from her hand, smacking against each other as she walked. Both were the only sounds greeting her in the space.

  She felt lucky that she got her car back so soon. It still mystified her as to how the brake fluid leaked without her noticing. Of course, if it trickled out as she drove, she supposed she wouldn’t see it on the road. A part of her couldn’t help but think of what the mechanic said; that someone could have drained it. She couldn’t imagine who would do that though.

  Slipping the keys into the lock, reminding herself she needed to get a new battery for her automatic lock, she started when a hand slapped against the metal next to her arm. Fingers falling away from the keys, she jumped back. Brad stood next to her, expression carefully blank.

  “Brad! You scared me!”

  “Sorry.” He said, but his tone conveyed nothing.

  A frisson of alarm wound through her. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. The side of his face carried the purple-black of a ripe bruise.

  “Can I help you?” She tried polite.

  “I just thought I would see how you’re doing.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean, Brad.”

  He smiled, thought the action didn’t reflect in his eyes. He kept his hand on the car. “Well, considering you still have a job and all.”

  Closing her eyes a moment, she opened them and hoped he saw her regret there. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get fired.”

  Brad spread his hands wide. “Well, that makes us friends then, doesn’t it?”

  Tension wracked her body. She wished her keys were still in her hand. She would feel safer with something other than her purse.

  She tried remaining calm and diplomatic. “I talked to Deacon, Brad. There isn’t anything I can do.”

  He lifted his chin, eyes glittering with anger. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

  The malice in his glare hit her hard, stealing her breath. He looked murderous, as if he intended to do more than strike at her with his words. Tension coiled in her muscles and she frantically ran through the moves she learned in her self-defense class.

  “Brad, I can’t control what you believe. Now, please, let me in my car.”

  “And if I don’t?” He challenged. “What will you do? I don’t see your pit bull around to save you.”

  Injecting as much frost into her words as she could, she lifted her chin. “I don’t need Benton to protect me, Brad.”

  He started toward her. “We’ll see.”

  Hoping to catch him by surprise, she darted forward and drove her shoulder into his chest, slamming him into the car. With his grunt of shock, she kept going, lifting her knee and slamming it dead center. He doubled over on a gasp and she shoved him aside, hands shaking as she twisted her keys and jerked open the door. He started to rise, grasping her ankle as she hurried into the car. Kicking at him with her heel, she caught him across the cheek, leaving a bloody streak.

  “Bitch!”

  Andrea kicked him again, catching him in the shoulder and knocking him back enough to hit him with the door as it closed. Slamming the locks down, she jammed the keys in the starter and tore out of the parking lot; only slowing when she knew he was far behind her. When she made it to the first light, she unwound her trembling hands from the steering wheel and took a deep breath, lowering her forehead to the cool leather. Only a honk behind her signaled the light changed.

  Forcing her breathing to slow, concentrating on pulling air in through her nose and out her mouth, she drove carefully, mind whirling. She could understand Brad’s anger, but not his deliberate attack of her. Surely he had to know that his behavior got him fired, not anything she said or did. But his demeanor and his attempt to harm her said otherwise.

  When she reached her apartment, she pulled into the parking slot and sat in the warmth of the car, eyes trained on the darkness. She doubted Brad followed her, but she shivered despite the heat. Other than that day on the street, when Ashlyn became kidnapped, she hadn’t experienced violence like this. What came from one innocent date now left her afraid to walk without looking over her shoulder.

  Telling herself to get a grip, she gathered up her purse and plowed into the night, hurrying up the steps to her apartment. Once inside, heart hammering, she turned the locks and leaned against the door. Letting the back of her head drop against the wood, she closed her eyes and tried to scrub the image of Brad leering at her from her mind. Should she call the police? Or should she just let it go?

  Going mechanically through the motions of removing her coat and shoes, she padded across the carpet and sat down in the chair next to the phone. A large part of her wanted to call Benton. But she didn’t want to alarm everyone and she didn’t know if she wanted to hear what the bodyguard had to say.

  Instead, she dialed her mother. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered and she felt calm wash over her.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Andrea, how are you? Your father and I were just talking about you.”

  “I’m fine, thanks. How are you guys?”

  “Good as always. We got something in the mail today,” her mother added.

  “My tickets?”

  “Yes. Andrea, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Mom, of course I should. I want you guys to be with me on Christmas since Mark is going to be out of town.” She twisted the chord around her fingers.

  “Are you going to cook Christmas dinner in your little apartment?”

  “Ashlyn is going to host her first dinner, Mom. We’re all invited.”

  “That’s nice. I look forward to seeing Deacon again. And his nice wife, the one you talk about so much. I’m glad you made more friends.”

  Andrea la
ughed, feeling more of the tension leach from her muscles. “Mom, I’m not in high school.”

  “I know, Andy. I just know how shy you are... You’ve been in Seattle now for five years.”

  “I like it here.”

  “We know you do. We miss you,” Grace added, sounding wistful.

  “Well, it won’t be long before we see each other again. Just a few weeks.”

  “These tickets cost a fortune, dear. I really wish-”

  “There is no better way for me to spend my money, Mom. I need to eat some dinner, tell Dad I love him.”

  “I will. Talk to you again soon?”

  “Yes. Love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too, Andy. Good night.”

  Hanging up the phone, Andrea loosened her hair and felt relief at the weight it took off her neck. It fell mid-back now and she thought about cutting a few inches off. If only her hair was all she had to worry about now.

  A knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts. Gripping her knees, she calmed herself and told herself that Brad wouldn’t knock. Still, she checked through the peep hole before opening it. Kate and Emme stood on her welcome mat, both in fancy dresses and coats.

  “We have come to rescue you on a Friday night,” Emme declared, pushing her way in with Kate behind her.

  “Em, I’m not sure I want to go out tonight.”

  Emme waved the words away. “Of course, you do. It’s Friday! Us single girls need to go have some fun too.”

  Single. The word had a way of making someone feel small and lonely. Between Brad mauling her and Benton ignoring her, Andrea felt off-kilter. It raised a spark of defiance in her. Neither of those men were going to keep her home and hiding away.

  “Okay,” she relinquished.

  “Let’s go find you something to wear,” Emme said, dragging Andrea to her room.

  Kate followed, laughing at her friend’s exuberance.

  Emme started rifling through her closet. “We need red, short and sexy.”

  It hovered on the tip of her tongue to argue, but Andrea knew Emme could be a whirlwind when she got an idea in her head. So, she let her friend pick out a sparkly, spaghetti strap number in red with a matching black belt. Sky-high red heels completed the outfit and before long, she found herself sitting in the bathroom while Kate did her hair and Emme freshened her make-up.

  “Are you trying to get me a date?” She asked, as Emme shushed her and painted her lips equally red to compliment the dress.

  “Not a date, just a few admirers that’ll take you for a spin on the dance floor.”

  Thinking she had enough of men for one lifetime, Andrea shook her head and rose, examining herself in the mirror.

  “You look stunning,” Kate assured her.

  The raven-haired nurse wore a strapless, blue dress that floated around her knees and hugged her lithe figure. Her hair fell down her back in waves, clipped to one side with a simple barrette. With her pale skin and red lips, Andrea thought she looked like a modern-day version of Snow White. In comparison, she almost felt gaudy.

  “I took the liberty of getting us a taxi,” Emme told them, hurling a short, black coat at Andrea. “It should be here in about five minutes.”

  “Where are we going?” Andrea asked.

  “A dance club, of course,” Emme told her, winking.

  “Last time we went to a dance club...”

  Emme patted her on the shoulder. “No need to worry.”

  Brad’s attack far from her mind now, Andrea shook her head. “You have bad ideas sometimes, Em.”

  “Of course I do. That’s the whole point.”

  They squeezed into a taxi a short few minutes later, Emme giving the driver their location. Perfume swirled around them in a heady mix, their dresses sparkling in the lights of passing cars. Andrea tried to tell herself to relax and enjoy the night. A few drinks, a few dances and she could go home.

  Kate fiddled with one of her dangling earrings. “I got us a VIP table, so we shouldn’t be bothered too much. They have security.”

  Security of course made her think of Benton, whom she promptly pushed from her mind. Tonight, would be about having fun with her friends and forgetting any life worries. Brad couldn’t touch her here. And if he bothered her again she would call the police this time.

  Their entrance to the club was immediate; they skipped the line and were ushered in and shown to their table. Without asking, a bar tender brought them bottles of vodka, carafes of juice, and a bucket of ice. The women mixed their drinks and sipped, watching the action on the dance floor. Each table was separated by a rope, allowing for some privacy.

  After a drink and a half, Emme pulled them onto the dance floor. Each of the girls kept their clutches wrapped around their wrists. Andrea wasn’t going to chance she would lose her purse again. The three of them formed a circle, dancing to the music with a Latin-edged influence. When a man tried to get close, they effectively cut him off and for that, Andrea was grateful. She didn’t feel like having anyone else pawing at her right now.

  “Just me and my girls!” Emme yelled above the music, and Andrea couldn’t help but smile. Emme was a firecracker and contagious.

  Kate grabbed her hands and they sashayed around Emme, laughing. The alcohol was fast going to her head; she realized she forgot to eat. Emme and Kate came so quickly after her phone call with her mother that she hadn’t the time.

  From the edge of the floor, a group of men watched them, gesturing and talking amongst themselves. Andrea figured it wouldn’t be long before they came over. But they headed back to the table to drink another round, where each of them lost count of the alcohol they imbued. Back on the floor, they welcomed others into their circle and when a man put his arm around her waist, she didn’t fight it.

  The lights flashed, her head spun, and she forgot why she hesitated in the first place.

  Chapter Nine

  Emme snatched her out of the arms of a man and dragged her back to the table. They sat down in a mess of women and dresses, breathing hard. A few hours of dancing and drinks was going to her head. After a full day of work, she thought bed sounded nice about now. Letting her head loll onto Kate’s shoulder, she yawned.

  “I think Andrea is done for,” Kate told Emme.

  “I think we all are,” Emme agreed. “You were the only one that didn’t work today,” she added to Kate.

  Andrea yawned again. “Thanks for the rescue, Em. I can’t seem to get rid of the men that I don’t want lately.”

  The wedding planner sipped on a drink. “What do you mean?”

  Realizing her error, she shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Emme poked her in the arm. “It isn’t nothing. Spill.”

  Sighing, she knew that if she didn’t obey, Emme would never let up. The stupid alcohol loosened her tongue.

  “Brad. I saw him today, in the parking garage.”

  Emme sat up, eyes narrowing. “What was he doing there?”

  She lifted her head. “Harassing me.”

  Kate frowned. “Andrea, you might need to take out a restraining order against him. What if he hurts you?”

  Feeling a wave of smugness overcome her, boosted by the alcohol, she boasted, “I hurt him.”

  Emme’s mouth fell open. “He got physical?”

  “I didn’t let him.”

  “Meaning, he would have. You need to petition for a restraining order,” Emme ordered.

  “Fine. Fine. Monday.”

  “You aren’t treating this with the seriousness it needs,” Emme told her.

  Closing her eyes against the spinning room, Andrea let the soft cushions of the bench pull her in. Maybe Emme was right. Any other man would have moved on and let it go. Brad obviously was nothing like she thought; not that it would be the first time a man fooled her. Likely not the last either.

  “I promise. I’ll ask Deacon if I can have an hour to myself to go to the courthouse.”

  “That’s better,” Kate said.

  Andrea sat up
quickly. “Let’s go back to my apartment. You girls can stay the night.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Emme agreed.

  Rising on her heels, she teetered precariously a moment before righting herself and reaching for her coat. Blinking, straining into the darkness amid the flashes of light from the dance floor, she tried to pull the fuzzy shapes together to make sense. A few separated, and she saw him, standing by the bar, watching her.