Angels of Belle Meade

by Lindsey Iler

  Once I start to see flaws, I change my clothes for something more forest appropriate. My phone rings as I close the button of my jeans. Emerson’s name and picture flash across the screen. The silly girl is sticking her tongue out and holding up a peace sign. She’d snapped the picture without my knowing and programmed it to display whenever she calls.

  “Yes?” I say.

  “Get your skinny ass out here,” she slurs.

  “Jesus, please tell me you aren’t driving.” I swipe my clutch off the dresser, stuffing my lip gloss and some cash into the interior, and hurry down the stairs, bypassing my mother without a backward glance.

  “Don’t be out too late!” she hollers as I walk out the front door.

  Without caring if she sees me or not, I flip her the middle finger.

  “Do I look stupid?” Emerson giggles in my ear.

  I open the back door of Dylan’s SUV, push end on the conversation, and address Dylan. “How much has she drunk already? It’s only ten.”

  “Don’t point fingers. She was in this condition when I picked her up,” Dylan argues. “Now shut the goddamn door, so we can get going.”

  “Oh, because we can’t be late to the forest,” I scoff, slumping against the cool black leather in his Denali. “Heaven forbid.” I wiggle my fingers, unimpressed.

  “Do explain why you hate it so much,” Emerson says, twisting to face me, her legs tucked under her ass.

  “It just freaks me out, okay?” I cross my arms in defiance, refusing to think about how scary that place is. “But for you, I’ll go.” Emerson’s soft skin tickles the back of my hand as I brush her cheek. “We picking up Amilee?”

  “Do any of you ever go anywhere without each other?” Dylan jabs. Emerson and I giggle, and he sneers, unamused with us. “Yes, we’re picking her up.”

  I lean forward, resting my forearms on the back of his seat, and whisper, “Dylan, why are your panties in a twist?”

  “He’s all wound up because Amilee rejected him last night,” Emerson announces, a giggle short on her tongue when he glares over at her. “What? It’s the truth.”

  “Amilee just doesn’t know what she’s missing yet,” Dylan says as we pull into Amilee’s driveway.

  The girl in question bounces down the walkway, and the three of us watch in awe. Her curls whip in the light wind, and he moans. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we’ve just witnessed a bit of disappointment and admiration, colliding into each other, deep in his soul. Amilee is a force to be reckoned with, and she’s fully aware of her power over people.

  “What’s up, bitches?” she cheers, sliding inside the back, then immediately reaching forward to crank the radio up, her face close to Dylan’s. She inspects him and grins like she’s just caught the biggest fish in the lake.

  “Do you have to torment him?” I whisper, leaning into her when she’s settled into her seat. “You know he has a thing for you.”

  “Now, what would be the fun in that.” Amilee winks.

  The three of us sway to the music and belt the lyrics at the top of our lungs, until we park on the shoulder near the Bridge Street entrance. Expensive sports cars, SUVs, and trucks line the road. Just another typical Saturday night in Belle Meade.

  Outside the window is darkness. As I climb out of the Denali, my soles sink into the loose soil. Fireflies twinkle in the distance, blinking then disappearing. Their freedom stirs up a sense of jealousy deep in my heart.

  “You coming, Lennox?” Amilee calls from just inside the tree line, moonlight framing her face.

  “I’ll be right there.” I glance around the perimeter of the forest. A chill runs over my body, tickling the hair on the back of my neck. I pull my ponytail down, shaking the tangles out until it shields my neck. I hate the way it feels here. There’s something forbidden about stepping into these woods. We aren’t meant to be in here.

  As I enter the forest, a brisk wind blows through the leaves, rattling me to my bones. I’ve been here a handful of times, but this time the forest feels different. Frantic, I twist, searching for whatever has goose bumps dancing across my skin.

  “You okay?” Dylan’s light grip on my elbow startles me, and I shrug him off. His hands dart up in defense like I’ve slapped him. “My bad, Lennox.”

  With a shake of my head, I suppress the strange sensation racing through my veins. “No, I apologize. I just had this weird feeling like . . .”

  “Like what?” he asks, pulling me in front of his body, shielding me. The gesture is sweet, and I smile in appreciation for his quick reaction. He inspects the forest.

  “It’s nothing.” I step around him and quicken my pace to catch up to Amilee and Emerson.

  “I thought you’d bailed,” Amilee jokes, nudging me in the side.

  “I thought about it.” I tuck my hands into my jacket, not eager to continue this night.

  Every time I walk to one of the coolers, I sense eyes on me. At first glance, the scene around me spells it out perfectly. There’s nearly fifty people here. One or two, hell, maybe even three could be leering in my direction. Wouldn’t surprise me. The mayor’s daughter is meant to be on her best behavior and acting responsibly.

  The longer we’re here, the stronger my unease grows.

  “I’ll be right back,” I inform Emerson, whispering in her ear.

  She nods before turning her attention back to Gregory, her latest boy-toy. He’s the all-American high school football player who’s gearing up to play for the University of Tennessee this coming season.

  Sticks crack as I trek around the small circle of trees where everyone busies themselves with mundane conversation. The girls are dying for the attention they lack from their fathers, and the boys are capitalizing on an opportunity. It’s basic science in Belle Meade. The girls are easy, and the boys, well, the boys are easier.

  Against my better judgement, I walk away from my friends.

  There’s a pull in the air, and as I take every step, I know I’m headed straight for it. Out in the woods somewhere, something wants to be seen. Call it intuition. My fear drives me over and under limbs. An owl howls in the distance, and I stop dead in my tracks. A tingle runs the length of my spine, and immediately, I know I’m not alone.

  “Hello?” I call, frozen in my own skin. Panic aches in my chest. Show yourself. “Hello?”

  A quick rotation proves my instinct wrong. I’m alone.

  I’m alone.

  My legs spring into action. As I race, twigs smack my face and arms, scraping the shallow depths of my skin. Shadows bounce around in the faint trace of moonlight. I pivot but see no one. My pace slows when I realize I’m not running back to my friends, but toward the entrance. As I see the shiny black paint on Dylan’s SUV, crackling reverberates in my ears, and I spin to find where the noise comes from. My body slams into a tree, and my back hits the ground. Specks of light dance in front of me.

  “Ow, that hurt.” I rub the tenderness in my elbow as my vision adjusts. To my surprise, the object isn’t a tree. Not unless oaks and pines have thick, sculpted legs and brooding smiles. “You’re not a tree,” I say, scooting back like a kindergartner doing the crab crawl in gym class. A stranger in the woods never brings anything good into a young girl’s life. I’ve seen plenty of horror movies to know this is a fact.

  “No, I’m not.” The stranger chuckles.

  His hand extends between us, and I accept it, even though everything tells me not to. Our skin touches, and a shock races through my palm, and up my arm, strong enough to give me no choice but to jump back from him.

  “Whoa! Are you okay?” His eyebrows shift up toward the night sky.

  “You didn’t feel that?” I help myself up the rest of the way, dusting the dirt from the back of my pants while keeping a close eye on the boy in front of me. There’s something different about him, a strange disposition I feel connected to in some way, but know for certain I should be afraid of. “I felt you running directly into me.” His eyebrow perks up, mocking me.
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  “Why are you in the woods?” My fists pinch into my hips. Pretending to be unaffected by the way his eyes canvas my body is impossible, when all it does is cause tugs and twists inside of me. If he’s here to murder me, then I want to go out with a fight.

  “I could ask you the same exact question. I’m Edric, by the way.” He reaches out to me again. Instead of being polite as taught, I leave his hand lingering between our bodies, refusing to chance the same shock he’d delivered moments before. “Okay, then.” My hint finally received, he slides his hands into the tight pockets of his jeans.

  “That’s nice,” I say. He shrugs and turns to leave. “Wait, where are you going?” My voice is filled with desperation, and I don’t know why. He’s nobody to me, and yet, I’m not ready to say goodbye. “Not that I care, I just . . .”

  “Why, are you going to miss me?” Glancing over his shoulder, Edric smiles, his mouth spread wide enough, it nearly takes up the bottom half of his chiseled face.

  He seems familiar, like I’ve met him before.

  “That’s not what I meant.” I run after him, forgetting all the rules I’ve been taught since I was young. “You clearly aren’t from around here, so why are you wandering in our woods?”

  “Your woods, huh? You own the property?”

  I reach out, grabbing his arm to stop his leaving. Instead of the expected shock, a thrill races through me like I’m on my first rollercoaster ride. He turns on his heels, stepping into me. I hiss in a breath, exhilarated by our closeness.

  “Well, no, but . . .” I stutter, barely recognizing the gravel tone in my voice. My odd behavior confuses me.

  “Then perhaps I have every right to be here.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and if it weren’t for the tree beside me, I would have fallen to the forest floor. “And if my presence here depends on being a resident, then consider me a neighbor, because we just moved to Belle Meade. Looks like we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.” He backs away as he speaks, turning and crossing out of the forest onto the main road.

  “Hey, where are you going?” I yell.

  “I know when I’m not wanted.” He spins to face me, continuing to walk backward.

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” He holds up two fingers and taps his temple.

  His playful wink does a hell of a lot more to me than anything else a boy has ever done to get my attention. Why am I so worked up over this guy? I don’t like it. Never once in my life have I felt out of control, but Edric, he makes me believe, maybe this time, I could lose the upper hand I’m accustomed to having.

  “See you around, Lennox!” he yells as the thick foliage across the road swallows him.

  Baffled by the odd encounter, I almost miss his use of my first name. I didn’t introduce myself when he did. Another chill dances up my spine.

  “Lennox!” Emerson yells. “Where are you?” Her drunken giggles make me smile.

  “I’m over here!” I shout, waving my hand in the air.

  Emerson, Amilee, Dylan, and Gregory walk into a circle of moonlight.

  “What are you doing out here, lady?” Emerson runs into my not-so-open arms. The motion of her body hitting me full speed is almost as painful as me running into the human tree moments ago.

  “I see no one stopped her from drinking more,” I say, leering over Emerson’s shoulder at the other three. “How are we supposed to get her back inside her house without her mom knowing?”

  They shrug, each avoiding my disapproval.

  “You ready to go?” Amilee asks. “A fight broke out, and Dylan and Gregory swooped us up and ushered us out before we got swarmed by the masses.”

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” I say, my attention straying to the space Edric occupied minutes ago. Too confused for conversation or questions, I don’t mention the dark stranger.

  As we pile into Dylan’s car, they clamor on about this supposed fight and all the other drama the forest always brings. It’s like people shift into animals the moment they cross the threshold.

  “I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.” I practically jump from the car before it even stops in my driveway.

  In the top window, a shadow crosses between the curtains. The person shuts them before I can see who it is. Either my mother is waiting up for me, or my father is finally attempting the parenting thing.

  The front door screeches as I open it. With care, I close it to ensure it doesn’t slam. I head up the staircase and come face-to-face with my father.

  “Oh, god,” I whisper-shout, my hand flying to my chest. “You scared me.”

  “My apologies,” he says.

  “Is everything okay?” I lean against the railing, unsure if I should pass him and hide in my room.

  We don’t have conversations. At least nothing too serious, and by the darkness in his eyes, I’d say this is going to be a doozy.

  “Yes, sweetheart.” He smiles. “Tomorrow, you’ll be nineteen.”

  “I will?” I deadpan.

  “Nineteen is sort of a big deal, don’t you think?”

  “Not really.”

  “Honey, tomorrow, everything is going to change. Your mother . . .” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Well, your mother didn’t want to warn you, but I need you to be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?” I question.

  “Tomorrow marks the beginning of your reign,” he whispers.

  Wait, what did he just say?

  “Dax!” My mother’s sharp tongue spits out his name. “That’s enough for tonight.” She stands at their bedroom door, her flowy night robe billowing at her ankles.

  My father glances between the two of us. He leans toward me, kisses me on the forehead, and whispers, “I wish there was more I could’ve done. It’s out of my control now.”

  “It’s okay,” I answer, not really understanding what I’m dismissing.

  “Get some sleep, Lennox,” my mother barks. Her silk pajamas sway as she goes into her bedroom. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

  Exhausted, I drop onto the mattress, tossing my boots to the floor. Tomorrow will be here before I know it. Up until this point, my nineteenth birthday has felt like any other day, and now, I’m not sure what the future will entail.

  With my father’s solemn expression burned into the inside of my eyelids, I drift off to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Lennox

  My pen scratches against the paper inside my journal. They fight each other to prove who is more important. Is it the pen that holds the ink, or the paper that reads the story? I’d like to argue it’s the paper. After all, the paper reveals the truth. In reality, the pen is to blame for what is written for everyone to read, for everyone to learn.

  It’s the perfect analogy for my life, for this town.

  The house is quiet, too quiet. Maybe Mother has taken Sarah Beth out for the morning, to flaunt her around town to prove to everyone she isn’t as evil as she comes across. No one can resist my little sister’s sweet personality. Mother has been using her as a buffer for too long.

  As I enter the kitchen, Mother lifts her face from the countertop, and I’d give anything to bounce her perfectly sculpted, expensive nose off the marble. I guess I can’t get lucky enough for a peaceful morning. No, those don’t exist in the Callahan household.

  “Could you refrain from leaving your cocaine dust on the kitchen counter, Mother?” I ruffle Sarah Beth’s hair as she eats the last spoonful of her cereal, wipe the spot in front of her, and rinse the bowl under warm water before setting it in the sink.

  “Can you watch what you say in front of your sister?” my mother, the closet junkie, sneers as she swipes her sleeve across the white residue.

  “That’s cute”—I rub the tip of my nose and sniff—“coming from you.”

  “You may be nineteen today, but I’m still your mother.”

  “Maybe we could try to start acting like it then, huh?” I tuck Sarah Beth under my arm and lead her out of the
room. “What’s your plans for today?” I ask, sneaking a glance over my shoulder to see my mother disconnected and unaffected by my insult.

  “Cynthia’s coming over,” Sarah Beth announces.

  As she looks up at me, the apprehension on her face breaks what’s left of my cold heart. I’m what some would call jaded. I’ve earned the right to be through years of mistreatment and pure blind neglect.

  “Why don’t we call Mrs. Kingsley and suggest you go over there today?” I smile to ease her fears, fears a nine-year-old shouldn’t have.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and call the Kingsley’s home. As I wait for someone to answer, I push Sarah Beth toward her room to get dressed.

  “Hello?” Mrs. Kingsley’s soft voice rings in my ear.

  “Mrs. Kingsley,” I say, surprised one of their many maids isn’t answering. “This is Lennox.”

  “Oh, hey, sweetheart. I’m getting Cynthia around now to head to your place.”

  “That’s actually why I’m calling.” I fix my hair in the large, vintage mirror hanging in our entry way. “Would it be okay if the girls spent the day at your place?”

  “Of course, it is. Everything all right, Lennox?” Leave it to Mrs. Kingsley to sense something. She’s intuitive like her daughter, Amilee.

  “Mom’s dabbling in old habits,” I admit. There’s no reason to pretend at this point. They all know, but no one does anything about it.

  “Len, you have to know she tries her best.” Mrs. Kingsley and my mother have been friends since they were young. Her willingness to try to protect me from the truth is admirable, but she and I both know she’s full of shit.

  “Anyway,” I drawl out, “I’ll drop off Sarah Beth soon.” I’m quick to hang up. The last thing I want is to fall into her trap, just as I always do with her daughter.

  Sarah Beth bounds down the stairs, wearing a blush tutu and leotard, and meets me in the foyer. I usher her out to the driveway where my Navigator is idling. Harold, our house manager, because an estate like ours doesn’t run itself apparently, must have known I had plans to leave. He’s efficient, if nothing else. I suppose after being with our family for as long as he has, he knows our moves before we even make them.