A Thousand Starry Nights

by Addison Moore

  “Well, look who decided to tag along?” Her teeth shine in the dark like silver blades as she sizes up Aspen. “Looks like Daddy was busy with a sleepover of his own.”

  “Who’s this?” Cher’s sister Christine is the salt of the earth. I don’t even think Cher has the power to turn her against Aspen. There are still some good people left on the planet, and Christine is one of them.

  “Aspen O’Tool.” Aspen extends her hand, and I wince hearing her say that last name. I’m sick that I ever let Henry stain her life so indelibly.

  They shore up their niceties while I head in and extract a well-sedated Abby from the couch and transport her to the truck. I get back to find Cher in a standoff, staring down Aspen as if she were about to bash her head in with a rock.

  “Goodnight,” I say, taking Aspen by the hand and leading her away from the potential nightmare.

  “It was very nice meeting you,” she says politely to Christine, and Cher becomes visibly unhinged.

  “What’s the matter, Aspen? Aren’t you going to say goodnight to me? Remember all those nights we stayed up late talking about boys?” Her brows arch as she flashes those sharpened canines over at me. “That boy actually. You always did have an affinity for my seconds. Please say hello to Henry for me.”

  Aspen seizes. Her eyes twitch like that of a wild cat.

  “Henry and I are divorcing.” She spins into Cher with a touch of glee in her voice. “You can have him back if you like. He always did have a special place in his heart for the ridiculously bitter. I never did fit the bill, Cher, but you do.”

  We jump into the truck and take off. I don’t think I’ve ever been so aroused and around my ex-wife no less. Seeing Aspen stick up for herself like that makes me want to pull over and take her right here on a dark, tree-lined street. And I might have considered it if Abby weren’t snoring softly in the back.

  “I’m proud of you,” I whisper.

  But Aspen doesn’t say anything in return.

  She’s back in the dugout, far away from first base, far away from that fabled home run.

  Leave it to Cher to unspool two week’s worth of hard-won trust. She’s unraveled Aspen and me before. It’s become an annoying habit of hers.

  Not this time, Cher, you sorry bitch.

  You don’t get to alter history twice in one lifetime.

  * * *

  The move runs smoothly, and, by Sunday I have everything in its place, minus about a hundred boxes. My brothers came by and christened the place with a beer, but Aspen said she needed to shore up things for her exhibit. That’s who’s really going to christen this place, Aspen.

  Late in the afternoon, I take my little lady and saddle her in her car seat for a quick coffee run. We hit the local Starbucks and put in our orders, something strong for me and a smoothie for Abby. The last thing she needs is a caffeine high, although sugar seems to have the same effect. I know for a fact that Cher lets her lap up the lattes because Abby has told me so herself.

  I’m checking out the Sunday Times on the news rack just as I get a slap to the shoulder.

  “Fucking shit. If it isn’t Call-it-in-the-Hole, Cannon.”

  I glance up before straightening. “Henry.” Shit.

  Call-it-in-the-Hole. I cringe because that’s no golf term. I used to be able to peg, with uncanny accuracy, who would get laid by whom that evening which led my frat brothers, Henry being one of them, to start referring to girls as holes. Now that I have a daughter, I find it a lot less amusing than I did back in the day.

  Henry stands before me, holding a drink in each hand. His face is the color of a pomegranate. He’s thicker than he used to be, downright flaccid in comparison.

  I tighten my grip on Abby’s little hand. “This is my daughter, Abby.”

  “No shit.” He nods down at her, seemingly genuinely pleased to meet her, expletive and all. “That’s right. Aspen has mentioned her before.”

  My stomach thumps once. “She did?” I’m curious. I know that Abby must have been a knife to the gut.

  “Yeah”—he leans in—“something about that spiteful bitch you married naming her after Abigail—Aspen’s mom.” He takes a relaxed sip of his coffee before leaning in. “We both know what a mind fuck Cher can be, so that’s no surprise.” He shrugs it off, but I can feel the burn building on my cheeks. Embarrassment rises up behind my eyes because after all these years I had never connected the vengeful dots.

  Henry kneels to Abby’s height. “You look like you’re holding back a big secret. But I don’t think you’re telling.” He gives her ponytail a gentle tug and she giggles. He pops back up. “She’s cute, takes after her daddy.” He raises his brows. “No offense to that barracuda she sprung from. So what’s going on?” He’s smiling, but it looks forced. There’s something dead in his expression I don’t quite remember. “You at Jinx? I bet you see Aspen all the time.”

  Abby steps on my foot in an effort to make herself taller. “Aspen Daddy’s friend.” She’s quick to announce.

  “Is she?” His chest pumps with a dry laugh. “I bet. So is anything new? Rumor has it she’s seeing someone. So soon. Can you imagine?” His eyes narrow in on mine with venom.

  “Haven’t heard anything.”

  “Yeah? Rumor also has it she has a propensity for douchebags that live in your neighborhood.”

  My jaw tightens as I glance down at my precious baby girl—the namesake of Aspen’s mother.

  “Really?” I meet his stone cold stare with one of hatred. I don’t know exactly how he fucked with Aspen, but I do know he did things to her that a husband should never do. He may have bullied her in the past, but it’s not happening again. And, for damn sure, he’s not bullying me.

  “Yes. Really.” He takes a step in, his chest puffed out like he’s ready for a fight. “You can tell the asshole she’s seeing I’m not fucking amused.”

  I try to sidestep around him. “You don’t talk like that around my daughter.”

  “I’ll stay away from your daughter. You stay away from my wife.” He knocks his shoulder hard into mine as he takes off into the parking lot. I watch from the window as he crawls into his Porsche. There’s a person in the passenger’s seat, a woman, brunette, and for one sinking moment I think it might be Aspen herself, but the hair is cut to her neck. Nope. Aspen is done with that psychotic piece of rotten luggage. But something tells me Henry is far from done with her. Guys like Henry don’t deal too well with rejection. He’s like a powder keg just waiting for a match to ignite.

  Aspen is the flame, and I’m about to make her mine.

  Ready or not—we’re going off like a bomb in your face, Henry.

  *

  The next few days at work, Aspen is tense. Gone is the familiar girl who was coming out of her shell, replaced with a stoic version, one who seems eternally short with me.

  I summon her to my office to work on the Jinx 2 ad campaign, and we stare at one another like predators waiting to see who will devour whom. I’d like to blame Henry for this turn around, or Cher, but most likely it was simply me for moving too fast. With Aspen each step needs to be measured, taken in timely stride, or I’m bound to push us back to the ice age. The fact of the matter is, I’ve hurt her. I’ve been the primal cause of great pain in her life, not Cher, for damn sure not Henry.

  Aspen sits across from me with her laser-focused attention. I’m fascinated, hypnotized by the curve of her pale legs, but it’s her beautiful feet tucked in those high heels that have me in a trance. Peep toe heels with fresh cherry polish making my mouth water. I can’t take my eyes off them. I don’t mind the silence. I know she needs time to work things through. Divorce can wreak havoc on the average person, but throw an art exhibit on top of that, an ex who is gunning for your bed. I’m sure it’s as stressful as it can be.

  Aspen messes with her phone before showing me a timer and setting it down on the desk.

  “You have five minutes to do whatever it is you want with me, Cannon. Go ahead.” She holds up
her hands as if negating the fact she has anything up her sleeve. “You’ve been staring at my feet for the last half hour. You can start there.” She lands her high heels over my leg. Her eyes never leave mine.

  I glance from her to the phone as the seconds eat away with a dull click.

  “What are you talking about?” My heart thumps a few times loud enough to let me know it’s out of calibration. My adrenaline spikes, and instantly I’m both aroused and numb from shock. God knows five minutes isn’t near enough time to do what I’d like to her. To love her the way I’ve been dreaming about—the way she deserves.

  “I’m all yours.” She cuts a glance to the phone. “Four minutes thirty seconds. Have at it. Certainly you have the balls to take me right here in your office, don’t you, Carter?” Her thighs part just enough with the dare as her flimsy dress rides up her legs.

  A cold smile plays on my lips. The head games are back, but Aspen has upped the stakes. I’m in.

  I pull her foot to me gently before flicking off her heel and tossing it over my shoulder, my gaze still nailed to hers.

  “You have fucking beautiful feet.”

  “You always throw an expletive in there?”

  “It was necessary.” My eyes close as my lips dip down to her flesh, and I detonate in a shower of sparks and emotion, strong as a nuclear blast. My mouth covers each of her tiny toes, my tongue lashing over them, sucking them down in a starving man’s fury. I graze each digit with my teeth, pulling out slowly, a guttural groan working its way up my throat. My blood pumps so damn fast, I’m deaf to my surroundings. Aspen tastes sweet, sugared and spiced, and all things very fucking nice. She lets out a hard sigh as her leg relaxes in my hand. My hard-on presses tight against my boxers as I struggle to keep myself in check. I suck the shit out of her foot before diving back over her toes as efficient as giving head.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” A loud bang goes off, and I dart up to find Ford throwing his water bottle just missing my head by inches. All my brothers have come to join the party. How very fucking nice.

  Carson stands by his side looking like he’s holding back a laugh. “This dickhead bothering you, Aspen?” He’s wearing a T-shirt, his muscles popping like he just lifted the building off its foundation. A part of me is hoping Aspen doesn’t notice a thing about my physically fit little bro.

  “Do I look like I’m bothering her?” This pent up rage, this genuine frustration that’s been accruing hits its pinnacle—and just when I was hoping Henry would be at the receiving end of it.

  “I’d better go.” Aspen tries to slink out of the room, one shoe in hand.

  “No, don’t.” I fan her back with my fingers until she’s seated right next to me again.

  Ford doesn’t look amused. “All right, barefoot Cinderella. What you hear in this room stays in this room.”

  Cash shuts the door, closing his eyes a moment too long. “Dude, sorry.” He winces as he makes his way over.

  “I’m not sorry.” Ford pulls up a seat. “You didn’t even have the courtesy to lock the door. Anybody could have walked in while you were fucking her feet.” He winces at Aspen. “Excuse me.”

  I press my palm into my eyes a moment. “What do you want?”

  “Ran some numbers this morning.” Cash shakes his head. “Someone’s been siphoning funds.”

  Aspen gasps and straightens. “Um, that’s terrible.”

  “It is.” Carson agrees. “The number one work ethic we’ve tried to instill in our employees is trust.”

  “How much?” I ask. Theft is a constant in just about any business, but at Jinx we treat employees like family, hell, most of us are.

  “Just under five hundred K.” Ford chokes it out with anger.

  Most people assume when you’ve got billions in the bank you wouldn’t care less about a little loss here and there, but the opposite is true. To a billionaire, losing a dollar is like losing a child. We’re spoiled, and we want to keep all of our loved ones right where they belong.

  “Shit.” I toss a pen across the room. “Find ‘em. Lynch ‘em. End of story. Set the bells and whistles off—call the cops see how fast they confess and beg for mercy. I don’t care how you do it, get them to cough back every single dime.”

  Ford nods. “I’m thinking the same thing.”

  Cash pulls his phone out as if he’s on it. “I think it’ll be easy enough to trace.”

  “Wait.” Aspen holds out her hand in a panic. “I think—I don’t think we should involve the police.” Her chest pumps at the thought. Henry obviously has her terrified of the authorities. “We should catch the bastards off guard. You know, nail them to a wall when they least expect it.”

  “I like that.” Ford nods aggressively. “We should hire a detective.”

  “I’ve got a guy I use. I can call him right now.” Cash scrolls through his contact list.

  “You won’t have to.” Aspen exhales a breath of relief. “I know just the person for the job, and trust me, there’s no one better. Stevie can attest to that.” She nods to Ford as if trying to recruit him.

  I take up her hand and give her a squeeze. “Who is it?”

  “Lincoln.”

  Salve on a Moonless Night

  Aspen

  Anne Boleyn, wife number two, was beheaded on the 19th of May 1536 while still proclaiming her innocence. Upon slashing her neck with a sword, the executioner held her head to the crowd where she is famously known to have moved her eyes and mouth, thus adding credence to the fact she was believed to be a witch. (Fun fact: The human brain can function for several seconds after a beheading dependent upon how much oxygen is left at the time of severing.) Was Anne Boleyn a witch? Most likely not. We won’t know for sure. She didn’t exactly get a fair trial, but, ironically, she did get the last word. Eat that, Henry. (Additional side note—Henry was officially engaged to his third wife, Jane Seymour, the very next day.) You know what they say: Marry in haste, repent in leisure.

  “And then what happened?” Kinsley is wide eyed and titillated by my drive-by with a foot fetish. I’ve just spit out the details of my afternoon foot fun while we wait for garlic bread to arrive at the Trattoria.

  I glance to Lincoln as he summons the waitress for another drink. He looks as if he’s about to be sick and simultaneously kill somebody. Stevie sinks in her seat with flushed cheeks. Who knew Stevie was capable of blushing?

  “And then he ate my feet, and I hobbled all the way here to tell you about it,” I snap.

  “Relax.” Kinsley tries to bring me down from my hopped up level of fear, albeit she knows not why I’m afraid—none of them do. I just sound very tense from an afternoon of Carter going down on my feet. But I know exactly why I’m ragged around the edges.

  I bite the inside of my cheek as I look to my brother. He’s going to have to help me get out of this mess, and it won’t be pretty.

  “Don’t tell me to relax,” I snip at Kins. “I went to a book club in the valley, and the wife of the man you’re sleeping with was there.”

  Her pink little mouth rounds out in the shape of a donut.

  A choking sound emits from her throat. “Was she upset?”

  “Yes, she was upset.” My voice rises incredulous. “She was very fucking upset. She had everyone sit in a circle and wish horrible things on your life. I had to tell a group of women that I wished your hair would fall out in your sleep! You made me cast a pox on you! Stop this affair.”

  “We’re not having an affair.” She cinches close to Stevie with her fingers coiling around her luscious locks. “God, I can’t breathe.” She scratches at the hives breaking out over her arms. “And now I can’t stop itching.”

  “That’s because you’re allergic to your own lies.”

  The three of them look utterly horrified at my sudden transformation to Her High Bitchiness.

  I clear my throat and make a concerted effort to relax. I need to get a grip—pretend for one moment that the entire Cannon clan isn’t closing in on my God-awful decisio
n to commit company treason. I’m an idiot. I don’t know what the hell ever made me believe I could get away with it. I had options. I happen to be staring at three of them right now.

  “So what’s new with you guys?” I ask brightly, in a rather psychotic turnaround. Lincoln’s face smooths out, amused at my spontaneous leap of emotions. “How’s the wedding planning?” I look to Stevie and her growing belly. Stevie glows with new life filling her.

  “Fabulous,” she chirps picking up her fork and licking the tines for no reason. Stevie never chirped before she was pregnant, before Ford to be exact. He lifted the dark cloud that had settled over her since Claire’s death and doused her world with sunshine. My mind flits to Carter. Even now that we’re both free, I can feel the dark cloud sinking over me. That dark cloud is the husband I’m still leashed to. I’ve stolen for Henry. I’m lying for Henry. In the process I’m sacrificing Carter for Henry, our trust built on an entire ocean of lies. Meanwhile Henry is having sex with a pop tart named Nikki.

  “I heard my mother offered you an exhibit.” Stevie stirs her drink while staring at me with dazed admiration. “I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait. You’re going to be huge, Aspen. I’ve always believed in you. You’re a go-getter. You know how to make things happen.”

  “Yes, I meant to tell you.” I wave the three of them off. “I’m thrilled, actually.” I’m going to be huge in prison. Perhaps they have an art program? I can develop one, teach one. I am a go-getter. I didn’t have the money to pay back the crooks my husband hired so I went and got the money. I know how to make things happen. Very bad things. I toss the spotlight to Linc. My brother, my savior. If it weren’t for Lincoln, I’m pretty sure there would be a prison sentence in my future. And there might be. “What’s new with you?”

  “Just keeping busy with—”

  “Good.” I nod a little too eager, cutting him off in haste. “We need to talk when you get a moment.” My gaze drills into his as urgency exudes from me like a fever. I can’t bear this burden any longer. I need my big brother to carry my cross before the Cannons nail me with a conviction. Before I lose Carter for a second time. They don’t need to crucify me. I’m doing a pretty good job of that myself.