Amour Battu: Timeless Love: A series of Standalone novels Book 2

by Mj Fields

  Autumn quickly hits the close door button and I see her flip him off as he hurries toward it.

  Great, just great. I think he saw me.

  When the elevator door stops on the executive floor, we’re the only ones left in the elevator and I hear Stella whisper, “Wow.”

  Autumn drops her bag on the reception desk and then takes mine.

  I hear heels clicking down the hall and Mom speaks before I see her, “I hope you have coffee.”

  “I have better.” Autumn winks at me.

  When Mom sees me, her eyes show me an all too familiar picture, in them, her heart is breaking.

  I give her a look, hoping she doesn’t overdo the hugs, and she looks around the now full room at friends of mine she has never met.

  Autumn quells the silence, “Natasha brought some friends to meet you.”

  They brought themselves.

  After a moment, Mom visibly composes herself. “Okay then, how about you order some coffee and pastries and we all head into the conference room?”

  “I think they should go back to school,” I suggest.

  “I think hells no.” Stella takes my hand. “We’re here for you.”

  I give my mom a pleading look and watch as she tries to figure out how to make it all better for me, like she always does.

  When she smiles at Stella and motions toward the conference room, all hope of that happening is lost.

  6

  Natasha

  Sitting in one of the spinny chairs, with my feet on it and head buried, imagining… no, wishing it would swallow me up, I listen to Stella tell mom about the IG incident and my mom, who should have been a lawyer, cross-examines her every statement.

  “How do you know this Sylvia runs the Socialite212 account?”

  Peeking through the dark strands of my hair curtaining my face, I see Aaron answer for Stella. “It’s been confirmed, ma’am.”

  “By whom?” Mom asks.

  “By him,” Stella interjects. “He ban-” She pauses. “Dates her.”

  “Almost two years ago, Lala,” he sighs.

  “Who’s Lala?” Mom asks.

  “Sorry, ma’am, Stella,” Aaron clarifies.

  “He,” Stella tosses a thumb at Aaron, “Shouldn’t be calling me that.”

  “Why does he?” Jenny, who rarely speaks to anyone except Jamal, asks.

  “We’ve known each other since childhood,” Aaron answers and looks at Elijah. “He couldn’t say her name, so he called her Lala.”

  I peek at Elijah and he narrows his eyes at Aaron.

  “How?” Jenny asks.

  “The three of us went to the same daycare center. Lala’s mom was one of the child care teachers, then she started one from her apartment.”

  “Why are we just hearing about it?” Tyler asks, annoyed.

  “Some things don’t need to be discussed,” Elijah says with much more authority in his tone than I’m used to.

  Aaron answers anyway. “5 World Trade Center, Manhattan.”

  I think about it for a moment, we were all two years old.

  “I’m sorry,” Mom whispers.

  “Don’t be, we all lived, all survived. We were the miracles amongst the terror,” Stella tells her. “All of us got out, all our parents lived.”

  “Thanks to Ginny.” Aaron winks at Stella and she scowls at him, which seems to amuse Aaron.

  Mom smiles softly. “Thank God.”

  After she’s learned everything about this morning, Autumn returns with the coffee and pastries.

  When the conference phone lights up and Mom looks at it, she closes her eyes and scratches behind her ear. She’s thinking.

  “Do you want me to grab it?” Autumn motions to the door.

  She shakes her head no and looks at us. “Just… try to be quiet for a few minutes, please.”

  By the time she ends the sentence, her eyes fall on Stella and Aaron chuckles.

  When Jean-Paul de la Porte appears on the screen, Stella gasps a whispered, “Oh. My. God.”

  I right myself and sit up straighter.

  There’s something about being in his presence that makes you want to be at your best.

  As I blot my face, hoping no tear stains remain, I feel a hand tap my knee. Aaron hands me a tissue under the table. “Eyes, Fancy Fa.” He doesn’t finish the word face.

  Kill. Me. Now.

  He then whispers, “Fuck her, you’re beautiful, Natasha. So Fuck. Her.”

  Is it praise or pacification?

  “Makeup makes everyone beautiful,” I reply.

  “Not all people. Not even fake tits could make her shine.”

  I know he’s talking about Sylvia, who is in fact beautiful, but just on the outside.

  And he’s right.

  After I wipe away the makeup Aaron pointed out had smeared under my eyes, I look up to find Jean-Paul de la Porte looking at me through the video screen.

  Damn it.

  Mom’s chipper tone saves the silent scrutiny. “Bonjour, Monsieur de la Porte, we have company today.”

  He looks around the room and his eyes fall back on me. “One familiar face. Bonjour Natasha.”

  “Bonjour, Monsieur de la Porte.” I force a smile.

  He leans in slightly, studying me further. Then quickly looks away.

  I look at Aaron, silently asking if I have missed some smudged mascara, and he shakes his head no, then winks.

  I feel like I’m sinking in quicksand while eating delicious chocolate.

  “Who do we have the pleasure of welcoming to de la Porte New York today, Angela?” Monsieur de la Porte asks, looking at Mom.

  “Some of Natasha’s classmates from Manhattan School of Art and Design, Monsieur de la Porte.”

  “I see.” His eyes smile and he nods. “Introductions?”

  This isn’t good, she doesn’t even know their names.

  “Of course,” Mom smiles and looks at Stella, “You first.”

  Stella, who is clearly star-struck, stands and curtsies. “Stella McCarty, your highness.” Her hand quickly covers her face and she groans.

  I look at Mom who sucks in her lips, yet remains composed.

  “I’m so stupid,” Stella grumbles.

  “Speak more clearly, Stella McCarty,” Jean instructs.

  When her hand leaves her face, she nods. “Please excuse me, but meeting you is like seeing Jesus on the same day you meet the Queen of England,” she growls at herself. “I mean, Queen of France… if there is one, to someone like me. It’s an honor, and a dream to even be in your presence. Even if it’s on a huge screen.” She growls again and sighs, “You know what I mean, right?”

  “I do, Stella.” Jean looks up from a file in front of him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “No, it’s not,” she laughs and then covers her face again. “Man, I’m screwing this up.”

  “You’ve brightened my day, Stella,” Jean nods and she grins from ear to ear. “Future plans?”

  “To color the world and make it bolder.” She grins and waves a hand over her bright yellow, black and white, polka-dotted dress. “So I won’t be competition to de la Porte.”

  Jean-Paul chuckles slightly, which is not something I’ve ever experienced. I wonder if he took offense to her possibly alluding to the fact his designs are in blacks, whites, and sometimes grays.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she groans again.

  “We all have different styles. I understand.”

  “You’re a fashion icon, a total freaking icon.”

  Mom forces a laugh to interrupt Stella, which is indeed a blessing… for all involved.

  He looks next to Stella, at Elijah.

  He stands and says, “Elijah Donahue, sir.”

  Jean-Paul looks him over.

  Elijah quickly adds, “Yes, my father is Benton Donahue.”

  Jean-Paul nods, “We’re all our own people, son.”

  “Damn right we are.” Elijah nods once.

  “From what I’ve
heard about you, you’re noble beyond years and highly intelligent.”

  “I try, sir.”

  “Chin up and hold the helm steady.” Jean seems to respect my peer and I realize I have no idea who Elijah, the noble, is.

  “Every day.” Elijah shows a bit of emotion, which isn’t like him.

  Aaron is next on his feet. “Aaron Esposito, it’s an honor.”

  “Aaron Hearst Esposito,” Elijah corrects.

  “Ahhh,” Jean-Paul steeples his hands.

  “Ahhh,” Aaron shrugs. “I’m not my father.”

  “I understand,” Jean-Paul nods. “You trait after your mother.”

  “She was beautiful and kind, so I take that as a compliment,” Aaron smiles genuinely.

  His mom is dead?

  “As it was intended to be,” Jean-Paul says.

  Tyler stands. “Tyler Grimaldi, and I’m not too proud to admit I’m a fan. You are fab.”

  “Grimaldi?” Jean asks.

  “Not the hotel moguls, sir, my family is in construction.” Tyler blushes.

  “And you chose fashion.” He rubs his chin.

  “I love fashion.”

  “I understand completely.” Jean-Paul nods.

  “Jenny White.” I look over as she pulls at Jamal’s hand and he stands. “This is Jamal Black.”

  Jamal nods at Jean. “We met while applying for scholarships at MSAD. Then we met again at orientation. He’s the true artist.”

  “She’s my muse,” he says staring at her. “And an artist who lacks the confidence to her ability.”

  “White and Black, huh?” Jean asks while glancing at Stella who scrunches up her face and again Jean-Paul appears briefly amused.

  “No family money,” Jenny smiles.

  “Then make it together,” Jean says passionately.

  “We intend to.” Jamal finally looks at Jean who looks back at him with great interest.

  After several moments pass with a deafening silence that only Jean and Jamal seem to be able to hear, Jean clears his throat and looks around the room until he finds Autumn.

  “Be a dear and take them to la Placard while Angela and I speak for a few more minutes.”

  Autumn beams, “It would be my pleasure, Monsieur de la Porte.”

  “Angela, give Autumn the access card to my suite so they can see the history.”

  Mom looks stunned, but only for a moment. “Yes, of course, Monsieur de la Porte.”

  “Merci beaucoup, Monsieur de la Porte,” I smile gratefully.

  He nods. “De rein. Please, none of those,” he pauses and thinks for a moment, “selfies on floor one.”

  “Of course.”

  “Can we get one in here with you on the screen in the background?”

  Jean-Paul looks amused by Stella’s request.

  We all stand in a group in front of the screen and I feel Aaron’s hand placed gently on my back. He whispers, “Smile, Fancy Face, you look beautiful.”

  When it’s done, I quickly move away from him.

  Before we collectively leave the room, Jean-Paul’s voice comes across the conference room speakers, “Make sure you tag me in it.”

  As we walk out, Stella grabs my hand and attempts to whisper, “That accent makes him even sexier, he is so fucking hot.”

  I look back at Mom, hoping she didn’t hear her, her eyes are closed as she shakes her head slightly in exasperation.

  “Make sure they leave with something, please, Angela, so they remember who they can become.”

  “Fucking swoon,” Stella grins and Elijah pulls her all the way out the door.

  “Lala, Jesus, indoor voice.” Aaron shakes his head walking behind them.

  Standing in front of the door, Autumn turns and looks at all of us. “Shoes off on the marble.”

  “He said start at the top.” Stella is bursting with excitement.

  “We’re leaving our shoes here,” Autumn tries to be autoreactive, but quickly catches Stella’s excitement. “Then we go to the top!”

  You know what happens on the worst day of your life; yeah you do, it sucks, entirely and completely sucks. You’d rather face death or drop off the face of the earth, than be around even the happiest of people.

  But once inside la Placard, it’s as if the world is millions of miles away.

  So many photos, so many smiles and looks of wonder and even grace cross their faces. It’s like today didn’t even happen.

  I allow myself to get swept up in it.

  Once we’re done with the past and the present, Mom becomes the most famous woman in the universe by handing Jenny, Stella, and me what I know will be this season’s IT bag.

  “No way.” Stella jumps back as if it may bite her. “No fu-” Her jaw clamps as she leaps forward and hugs my mom, the bag squished between them. “Thank you for giving us Natasha.”

  Huh?

  Mom laughs and pats her back. “Thanks for seeing her here today.”

  Once the Stella and Mom hugfest is over, Mom looks at me with love before handing the guys platinum cufflinks with the de la Porte logo.

  “I’ve spoken to the Dean and she will excuse the… tardiness, if you make it back right after lunch.”

  Panic strikes. Mom sees it.

  “You can join your friends for lunch and come back here if you’d like. Smiths is expecting you all at eleven.”

  At lunch I push around the food on my plate as I watch everyone eating. Jenny and Jamal are in their own little world, Stella is taking bites and then making goo-goo eyes at her bag, and Tyler and I seem to be engrossed in the silent film starring Aaron and Elijah. Aaron is seemingly unaffected by Elijah's glare but he refuses to look away.

  After far too much awkward silence, Tyler asks, “What gives?”

  “Mind your business,” Elijah warns.

  “Um, hello,” he snaps his fingers. “My friendships are my business, bitches.”

  Well, that was a little much, but it works.

  “My father’s death is because of his father.” Elijah points his fork at Aaron.

  Typically cool, calm and collected, Aaron sits forward and hisses, “I’m so sick of your shit. Your father’s dead because he and my mother got into an accident.”

  “Your father made it happen.”

  “My father and a judge and jury saw differently.” Aaron glares at him. “I lost my mother too, asshole.”

  “But you stand beside him regardless. Even after he left the country, you still defend him.”

  Aaron stands, pulls out his wallet and drops a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “You know damn well that’s not why you’re pissed, just makes you appear nobler. You’re pissed that I fucked your sister. Get over it. I was fifteen.” He looks at Stella. “You wanna be friends with this dick and continue hating on me, cool. But this has not a damn thing to do with my dad. It’s because I fucked his sister.”

  “Sisters, plural,” Elijah hisses.

  “Twins, I was fucked up and didn’t know any better,” Aaron laughs while running a hand through his silky, male whore hair.

  “Both?” Stella gasps.

  “Yeah, well, shit happens.” Aaron shrugs and walks out the door without a glance back.

  Wow, just… wow.

  Aaron Esposito is much more complicated than I thought.

  Oh, how I wish I could click my heels like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, and wake up with a plaid skirt on, and sister Mary teaching all the things I will someday do that will send me straight to hell. Might as well be there now.

  “Question?” Tyler asks Elijah. Elijah doesn’t say a damn thing. “So, you hate him because his old man, what; killed your dad and his mom? Or that he banged the twins?”

  Elijah leans forward and growls.

  “Rumor has it, they–.”

  His words stop when Elijah reaches over and grabs his throat.

  “Bad Elijah, bad,” Stella yanks him back.

  “I’m not a fucking dog, Lala,” he snaps at her.

  “And he’s
not the enemy.” She points to Tyler. “And I’m not too sure Aaron is either, anymore.”

  When Elijah sits up and his chair nearly falls over when he pushes it back, I reach to grab it. And he turns, knocking my arm away, spinning me around, and yes, I inevitably end up on my ass.

  “Fuck, Nat, I’m sorry.” He grabs my arm and hoists me up.

  “I’m okay,” I whisper, sitting and hiding behind my hair.

  He throws a hundred on the table too, before he storms off.

  Stella’s elbows hit the table and she fists her hair. I know when I’m like that, I want to be left alone.

  Tyler looks down at his phone, and Jamal and Jenny are nose to nose, entirely and blissfully unaware of what just happened. Or maybe, they just don’t care.

  I make a mental note to add to my list that I want to find someone I can get lost with in the midst of chaos.

  7

  Natasha

  I had spent the weekend on the phone with Stella, listening to her fight with her brother as she gave me advice on how to deal with the assholes at school on Monday.

  During one of our many conversations, she admitted, after 9/11, her mother begged her dad to leave the police force, and he promised he would. He promised it over and over again, for years. Yet he never did.

  When her brother was in kindergarten, and she was in fifth grade, her mother left her father for another man. A therapist who had worked with her after the attacks.

  Stella and her brother were all set to go with their mother when she overheard a fight between her parents. Her mom admitted the affair had been going on for many years and she was just waiting until both kids were in school full time so she could work outside the home.

  Stella refused to leave with her. She was angry at her mother, and her anger rubbed off on Bruno, her little brother, who wasn’t so little. He was entering high school the next school year.

  We talked for over two and a half hours, Friday night, Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning.

  I was shocked on Sunday when my father showed up at Mom’s, more shocked when pervy Johnny walked in looking at his feet.