Fire in an Amber Sky

by Addison Moore

  “The gang’s all here,” Mom says, leaning in like a threat. I can read between the cheating lines. I know whom the gang entails. I’ve already girded myself to see that lying bitch that surprisingly turned my life around for the better—unknowingly, of course. Leah would never gift me Lincoln Lionheart on a silver platter. When she sees what she’s inadvertently done, she’ll hang herself with the shower curtain. That’s not true. She’ll put her best cheating foot forward and try to wrangle herself some fresh Lionheart meat. “You’re strong, honey, and with this Greek god by your side? Honey, you are stronger than flint.”

  Lincoln wraps an arm around my shoulders as if to concur.

  She ushers us inside, and my heart stops.

  An expletive tries to make its way from my throat, but the wind has just been knocked out of me.

  Bradley is here. I swallow back the bile licking at my tongue.

  Of course, he is. Leah is still seeing Bradley. I want to turn. I want to run as the humiliation bleeds through my veins.

  Lincoln leans in, his warm breath pulsates over my ear. “Why don’t you introduce me?” He gives my hand a squeeze, code for be strong.

  I introduce him to Jeb, my stepfather, and his father who was kind enough to come out. Bradley and Leah step up as if waiting their turn. He looks leaner, sinewy, not at all the marbled statue of a body that I’ve become accustomed to on Lincoln. God, next to Lincoln he looks like a bullfrog. And Leah. Pretty, high-heeled wearing, short skirt parading, far-too-gorgeous-to-be-around-my-boyfriend, Leah. Even I’m piqued at how physically beautiful she is. She’s a vamped-up Snow White. Easily she can pass as one of the Lionheart spare heirs, with her darkness and beauty a match to that of Aspen and Stevie.

  I take a quivering breath as they come in a little too close for comfort. “This is my stepsister Leah and her boyfriend Bradley.” It’s as if they were a fantasy, some figment of my cruel imagination that had come to life, and it’s jarring me to the point of insanity.

  “Nice to see you both.” Lincoln doesn’t back his words with a handshake. But Leah’s fingers twitch, just begging for a touch.

  “Lincoln Lionheart?” She tips her head, pretending to be surprised. I know for a fact my mother already fed her this tender morsel weeks ago. I scowl as she begins her careful dismantling of my new relationship. Leah has never believed in happiness, certainly not mine. I’m still paying for the fact her ballerina of a mother took off to dance across Europe rather than raise a child. Some people turn their hatred toward their parents into a sport they participate in their whole lives, taking down those they assume are to blame in the process. The only real joy Leah has ever felt is when she’s taking down others. Like me, for example, three days before my wedding. I’m sure she orgasmed with delight over that one.

  “That would be me.” Lincoln offers his most dashing smile, and a spike of fear settles in me. Of course, he would be attracted to her. She’s that gorgeous. A flare of heat tracks over my cheeks, embarrassed to see her dominating yet another man I’ve brought into the fold. I want him to openly scowl at her, to lose the grin, and to start up that brooding evil eye of his.

  “I know you.” She pops her hip to one side and bats her eyes. Leah has never been shy to go heavy on the flirting. “We danced a few weeks ago at Gravity.”

  “What?” I caw, not comprehending what she just said.

  Her fingernails graze over mine, painted the color of dried blood. “Leeann Tindermyer is getting married.” She shifts her wide-blinking doe eyes at the man I love. “You and I danced. It was silly. You took off right after. But everyone there was whispering your name.” She fans herself. “I had the honor of saying I danced with the man.” She giggles into her palm while pressing the brand of revenge hot over my heart.

  Lincoln looks mildly confused, and I want to shake him. Make him refute the claim, because for one, I’ve been in the picture for longer than a few weeks. Lincoln doesn’t hit the clubs at night. He’s with me. But he doesn’t refute her claim; in fact, he looks mildly taken off guard, embarrassed to have been caught.

  My throat swells to the size of a dance floor.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Bradley nods to him, and a wave of relief settles over me. Ironically, it’s Bradley who will pull us out of this shithole Leah has strategically led us into. It’s a sad day when I’m pulling for Bradley to do anything in my life. “I’m an investor at both Jinx and Merlin.”

  “You play the game?”

  “Stocks?” He holds up his stumpy fingers an inch apart. “I know just enough to get me into trouble.”

  He and Lincoln share a laugh, and I freeze. Who is this man beside me? I’m frozen at how fast Lincoln seems to have sailed from loyal boyfriend to traitor.

  “I actually know a few of your exes.” Leah demands the spotlight back on her. She insists that Lincoln grace her with those glowing sapphires he calls eyes and only her. I want to die—to pluck the fork out of the turkey and stab my own eyes out. “Deana-Lisa Zucco? Grace Kahunas? I bet you hardly remember them. They said it was just a passing fling. Rumor has it, you’re quite the ladies’ man.” She offers that cajoling guffaw once again, and I’m tempted to shove my heel down the open hole of her mouth.

  “Don’t quite recall them. I’m terrible with names.”

  No, he’s not. He doesn’t care for their names because he calls them all by a collective moniker—club whores. I feel smugly satisfied knowing this.

  “No big deal.” Leah steps into him, and he doesn’t back away. “They’re nobodies anyway.” She holds a finger in the air, her epiphany as phony as those diamond studs in her ears. “There was another girl. A friend of mine from my sorority said you dated her second cousin—Jacqueline Beranger?”

  Lincoln’s face bleeds out all color. My heart grabs ahold of my lungs and disables me from breathing. Jacqueline Beranger? Jackie, Jackie?

  “Oh, gosh.” Leah fans herself with her fingers, insta-tears forming in her eyes. “It’s so sad. I can’t even think about it. Please, forgive me. I’m so sorry. I should have known better. And I’m not one to judge.” Her hand falls over her heart. Her lips purse as if she were as serious as God. She takes an audible breath. Leah always did lean toward the dramatic. “Whew!” She fans herself hard. “Too sad! Too sad!” She dances a little jig. “Let me see if Mom needs any help in the kitchen.”

  Bradley fills the strangled silence with mundane talk of mergers and takeovers, bombarding Lincoln with one question after the next, and I stand there frozen solid, unable to thaw from Leah’s one-two punch.

  Lincoln’s phone goes off, and he moans at it for a moment. “Would you excuse me just a minute?” He looks to me with a soft plea as if whoever is on the other line can’t be avoided.

  “No problem,” I say. “I’ll go help in the kitchen.” Bradley comes up alongside me, as I’m about to make a run to the bathroom. I need to splash cold water onto my face, have a good cry, or simply try to flush myself down the toilet. This entire night has gone to shit, and it hasn’t technically started yet.

  “What?” I snap at the asshole standing before me. The Old Me, the one who got out of the car a few minutes ago, was ready to thank him for leaving me, for leading me into the arms of a magnificent man, one who dances with Leah when I’m not looking—Leah, who knows all about Jackie. I shake my head. How in the hell does Leah know everything? Of course, she does. Demons always do.

  “I’m sorry.” His brows furrow so deep it looks as if someone is pulling fishing line across his forehead in three neat rows. “I’m sorry about what I did to you. It was stupid. I lost the best thing I ever had.” He swallows hard. “I’m not with Leah.” He nods toward the kitchen. “She asked me to come. We’re just friends.”

  “She asked you to come? She’s using you to make me uncomfortable. She’s already making a play for my new boyfriend, in the event you hadn’t noticed.” I can’t believe I’m whispering in the corner, venting to Bradley of all people. I try to make a break past him, an
d he blocks my path again.

  “She ended it as soon as you left. You know how you used to tell me you thought she had it out for you?” He shifts his sunken eyes toward the kitchen. “I’m starting to think you’re right. She’s setting her hooks in him.” A frown comes and goes. “I’d be careful if I were you. She’s really good at getting what she wants.”

  I move past Bradley and hit the restroom, a full sob coming from nowhere, exposing exactly how powerless I am. The Old Me was weak. And apparently, the New Me is weaker.

  Dinner is peppered with staccato, on-off conversations without the mention of Lincoln’s old girlfriends, no mention of Jackie. I wonder if I pin Leah down with a butcher knife if she’ll rattle out all the details. Something tells me no. Jackie is simply another weapon in her arsenal.

  After dinner, Mom serves her famous buckle berry pie, and I can’t feel like more of a country bumpkin if I wanted. We sing a stale version of “Happy Birthday” that sounds as if it were being sung out of posterity over a tombstone rather than a gleeful family gathering—the birthday girl herself alive and well at the head of the table.

  Leah lets out an aggressive sexually laced moan as her fork comes away from her lips. “You can’t beat this, Mom. This one is your best!”

  My stomach always sours when she calls her Mom. I still call my stepfather Jeb, but that’s because my father is sort of still in the picture.

  Lincoln and I polish off our monster slices in silence.

  “I think you can market that,” Lincoln says to my mother, and she waves him off, a heavy blush coming to her cheeks. That’s where I get it.

  “Speaking of market.” Mom waves her fork like a wand. “A little bitty birdie told me my daughter is happily no longer on it. You two getting serious so quick?” She raises a brow as if there was a caveat in there somewhere, but I know for a fact she’s already planning another elaborate wedding monstrosity in her mind. I’d rather elope than go through that parade of endless to-do’s, endless appointments, the too long guest list, half of which I wouldn’t recognize if I passed them on the street.

  “Yes,” Lincoln offers without missing a beat. “We are.” He takes up my hand openly at the table and pulls me in a notch. “Macy is a special girl. I can’t tell you how thankful I am she walked into my life. I went through a rough patch, gave up on trying to find the one, and in she came, marching into my office on fire and ready to whip me into submission.” He gives a playful tug to my hand. We both know it was me sprawled over his desk like a hood ornament with his body waiting to whip me into submission.

  “Aw,” Mom coos as she pulls Jeb’s hand close to hers. “Sometimes it’s the rough patches in life that make you stronger. They put you in the path of the person you were meant to be with all along.” She looks to Jeb with tears in her eyes. That was her story, too. Both my father and Jeb’s wife left them hanging with a family in tow, and they were lucky to have found each other. Too bad he had to drag Leah into the fold with him.

  “You sure are a lucky girl, Macy,” Leah purrs, running her finger seamlessly over the rim of her coffee cup—fine bone china, my mother’s holiday splurge.

  “I know I am.” I glare at her audacity. “I’m the luckiest girl on the planet, and not a day goes by that I’m not thankful for the twist my life took. It was Lincoln I was meant to be with all along.” I nick both her and Bradley with the rusted blade of the truth.

  I give my mother her gift, a cashmere sweater I purchased in a boutique on Melrose with the money my uncles deposited for me. With all those extra zeros at the end of the balance in my checking account, I’ve more than pulled myself up by the bootstraps. I should move out. It’s been too much too soon, and I’m more than pissed that Lincoln danced with Leah, not to mention that Leah knows the Too sad! Too sad! news about Jackie, and I’m still in the dark. As much as I’m glad to have seen Jeb and my mother, I’m sorry I ever made the trek up here.

  We gather our things and head for the exit. Lincoln offered to spend the night, but I made him promise he’d drive us back. There’s no way I want to stay where Leah can have an accidental run-in with my new boyfriend while parading around in lingerie. She’s an old school slut and not too clever.

  Lincoln and I say goodnight to everyone under a basket full of stars. Both Mom and Jeb offer hearty hugs, begging me to visit again soon. I give Bradley a slight wave, and he nods. It’s funny, because if anything positive happened tonight, it was a sort of healing between Bradley and me. I’ve lost the urgency and energy to claw his eyes out and feed them to the chickens. Leah’s bright blue lenses, on the other hand, are still looking ripe for the picking.

  “Come here, sissy.” She opens her arms wide to me.

  God, I hate it when she calls me that.

  She pulls me in, burying her mouth over my ear. “Be careful, Mace. I’d hate to see you end up like that other girl.”

  I push her off me and head to the car with Lincoln, but it’s too late. Leah is in my head, spinning round and round, holding Jackie over my neck like a hatchet.

  “I think it went well,” Lincoln says as we turn onto the main road, and I watch as Morgenstern Ranch dissolves into a blip of light in the rearview mirror.

  “I think it went like shit.”

  His jaw clenches as it catches the light of an oncoming car. “Why are you pissed?”

  “Why did you dance with Leah?”

  “I didn’t. She danced with me. I don’t remember her face. We weren’t official.”

  Everyone remembers her face, I want to say, but my mind snagged on the word official.

  “We’re together now. That’s all that matters,” he offers. “You’re the one I’m in love with, Sin. Don’t get caught up in her bullshit.” He rubs my knee with his hand.

  I don’t say anything as silent, fat tears begin to slide down my face. It was the bullshit she whispered into my ear on the way out that really burrowed into my brain.

  “Be careful.”

  It’s become a haunting refrain.

  We get home at almost one in the morning, thanks to bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Grapevine.

  Lincoln carries me to his bedroom with a forlorn smile and makes love to me like his life depends on it.

  It might.

  Lincoln

  “What is she pissed about?” Stevie asks while angling a bottle into Maddie’s little mouth.

  “I don’t know,” I grumble. “She had her head messed with the other night at her mother’s house. Her stepsister is a real fucking peach.”

  Stevie, Aspen, and I were summoned to meet up with Kinsley at the Trattoria. We’re doing it old school, no interlopers, and my heart wrenches because Kinsley specifically asked me not to bring Macy. When my sisters probed how we were, I simply told them the truth. Macy is pissed.

  “She might be upset that I danced with her stepsister.”

  Their mouths fall open at the same time.

  Aspen ticks her head to the side. “The one who snaked her fiancé?”

  “You fucking danced with her?” Stevie smacks me hard on the arm. “You were supposed to be eating birthday cake!”

  “I didn’t dance with her the other night. It was weeks back. It was at Gravity, of all places. I had no clue it was her. I didn’t know shit. She was dry humping me as I was leaving the room. That was hardly me dancing with her.”

  “You’re Lincoln Lionheart. It qualifies in a lot of girls’ minds.” She squeezes a lemon into her water and bites down over it before tossing it to the side. “So, how was the family? Were they nice to you?”

  “Of course, they were nice. Everybody was nice. Her ex was even playing nice. Hell, I was nice.”

  Stevie groans. “You weren’t nice to her ex-fiancé, were you? And that skank that threw herself at you?”

  “Yes,” I say in disbelief that we’re having this ridiculous conversation. “I was nice to everyone. That’s what was expected of me.”

  My sisters give each other a twisted look.

  St
evie hoists Maddie up further on her arm and rouses her from her slumber. “You were supposed to have Macy’s back. Having her back in that situation means being cold and unfeeling to those who wronged her. Come on, Linc. You wrote the book on having someone’s back.”

  I still for a moment. Shit. She’s right. I was too caught up in leaving a good impression, trying not to rock the boat that I forgot where my loyalties lie.

  “Nice,” I sigh just as Kinsley comes into view. “Now I feel like an ass.”

  “You’re my favorite ass.” Kins blows me a kiss as she jumps into her seat. “Thank you all for coming”—her eyes flit to mine a moment—“without your better halves.”

  “Aren’t we missing someone?” Aspen says, regarding Fuckface’s notable absence.

  “I didn’t think Luke would care about this.” Kins glances to me for a moment, and I want to drop in a manhole because I get it. Kinsley didn’t invite Luke because she’s got my back. She’s siding with me the way I should have been siding with Macy. I should have kicked Bradley’s ass all across that dining room table. I should have never spoken more than a single word to her slut of a stepsister. These are people that destroyed Macy, and I was essentially their buddy for the night.

  “As you all know”—Kins continues—“I haven’t exactly been hitting the roles since I was let go from The Fortune of Tomorrow and slept with he whom shall not be named.”

  Dillon Collet. I should have blown a hole though his crotch.

  “Anyway, I had an epiphany, and I feel like I need to share it with you guys. That day Dad dragged us into the boardroom, I saw my future flash before my eyes. I knew that he needed all hands on deck. My destiny was never in theater. For sure, it wasn’t in Hollywood and all its empty air promises. It’s with Dad and his company. I’m ready to turn in my SAG card in exchange for a business suit. Corporate world, here I come.”

  Her big announcement is met with a bout of stagnate silence.