by J. J. Sorel
Justin mumbled a response, after which I heard their treads fade away.
Lost in thought, I jumped when the buzzer sounded.
Discovering that it was Cassie, I waited for the sound of the elevator before opening the door for her. She entered wearing a sunny smile and clutching a parcel that radiated that unmistakable delicious aroma of donuts.
Falling onto the sofa, Cassie plopped the sweets on the table. “Here, I thought you could use something nice after last night’s shenanigans.”
I grinned and nodded. “Yeah. I’m single again.”
Cassie studied me for a moment. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Coffee or wine?”
“Wine,” she said.
It was early afternoon, and because I had Aggie in a few hours, I settled for a coffee.
After I’d polished off two donuts with Cassie watching, I asked, “Aren’t you going to have one?”
“Maybe just one. You’re so lucky, Aves. When you put on weight it goes to all the right places. With me, it just settles here.” She pinched her belly.
“There’s nothing there. You’re really skinny, Cas. To be honest, I worry about you.”
“Hey. I’m no longer sticking my hand down my throat after meals. I’ve put that behind me.”
A slow breath left me as I studied my friend, who’d been body obsessed since her teens. If anything, Cassie’s unhealthy fixation with body image had made me rebel, in that I’d decided to enjoy eating. Especially sweets. Even if my jeans had tightened around my growing ass.
“That’s good to know.” I stroked her arm and gave her an encouraging smile.
“So what happened? God, Marcus’s dad and Justin were giving each other the evil eye after you left.”
“I don’t know. There’s something not right there. Justin’s fucked up. I can’t be with him. He nearly raped me outside, you know. If Bronson hadn’t stepped in…”
“But boyfriends don’t rape. They play a bit rough at times. A bit of dirty play is kind of exciting.”
“There’s a big difference between playing dirty and nonconsensual sex.”
Her plucked eyebrows lifted. “He was that rough? Tell me what happened.”
“Just that he groped me, pushed me against the wall, and was ripping my panties.”
“But that’s hot.” I could see envy in her eyes.
“I get that point. And that’s probably right. That’s why I know that Justin’s not for me. You realize we’ve only slept with each a few times. I’ve tried. I know he’s really good-looking, but when Justin kisses me, nothing happens.”
“Has a kiss ever turned you on?” Cassie asked.
A frustrated sigh sounded in my chest. “That’s the thing. It hasn’t. I mean, I’ve kissed a few guys and whatnot. You know all about that. We’ve shared on all our kissing experiences.” I tilted my head. “I’ve never felt that fire that’s meant to take over. Or is that just Hollywood and Harlequin filling us with unrealistic expectations?”
“No way.” Cassie shook her head. “I’ve been there. With Gino. Remember that sexy Italian?”
“Yeah. The impoverished one that worked at the local café. The one that you shunned because he offered no future prospects.”
Her mouth turned down. “I know. But it’s hard out there. And look at my mom and dad. My mom married for love, and they’ve been struggling ever since. The net result being me having to work two jobs since I was fifteen. I’m fucking exhausted, and I’m only twenty-four.” She brushed back her blonde fringe. “At least Marcus has money. Life’s suddenly gotten easier for me. He pays for everything. He even paid my rent last month. And he bought me these.” She pulled at her stretchy designer jeans.
“But I bet you wouldn’t have minded Gino ripping your panties off,” I countered.
A slow smile grew, and her face reddened. “Mm… who’s says he didn’t?”
I giggled. “You’re a minx. So, do you still see Gino at the café?”
“Yeah. He’s married.” She sounded disappointed.
“But that’s the point, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“That fuzzy, heart-leaping feeling. Life’s too short to rob ourselves of that.”
With a wistful sigh, Cassie said, “Yeah, I suppose.” Taking a sip of wine, she added, “Justin’s gutted, Marcus tells me.”
“I don’t care. He’s a brute. And if Bronson hadn’t intervened…”
Cassie interjected. “There it is.”
I shook my head. “What?”
“That look in your eyes. I’ve known you forever, and I haven’t seen that before. You like him. And he likes you. And boy, he’s fucking hot, and a little dangerous, I think, with that big body, tattoos, and intensity of his.”
Churning up like a stormy ocean, my emotions became a tangled mess again. The warm shower that cascaded over me from hearing that Bronson liked me went cold as I reflected on his shady past.
“He’s been in jail,” I said.
“I know. So bad-boy. He’s fucking sexy. I bet you wouldn’t mind him ripping your panties off.”
Even though I painted on a shocked frown of disbelief, there was no denying the little swelling ache taking place below. “Unlike you, I’m not into the bad-boy type.”
“Did you see those arms? God, he’s big in all the right places. I bet.”
“Yeah. So you keep saying, Cas.”
I rose from the couch and strolled over to the tiny little balcony, where again, my eyes lamented the chunk of decaying wall blocking the sky.
“I’ll admit, Bronson’s seriously good-looking, and he does make my heart pump faster than I’m used to.”
“Ah… there.” Cassie pointed at me. “You do like him.”
“Hello… He’s been in jail.”
Recollecting Bronson’s wild-eyed fury as he went to hit Justin, I said, “Maybe he killed someone. We don’t even know what he’s been in for.”
“For cocaine. Marcus told me Bronson was locked up for a year. They found it on him at a party at their family home.”
“You know my feelings about drugs. That’s another reason why I had to dump Justin. He snorts coke. And when he’s on it, he becomes horribly rowdy and aggressive.”
“But he’s really rich, Ava. And good-looking.”
“You sound like my mom. She’ll be seriously pissed off when I tell her. But I’m only twenty-four, for God’s sake. I’ve got time to get it right. And Justin’s creeping me out. Rich or not.” I looked at the clock. “Hey. I’ve got to get ready for work.”
“Who works on a Sunday?”
“I do.”
Cassie followed me into my bedroom. On the bed lay the purple floral dress that Aggie had given me.
“That’s such a loud dress. It is so unlike you. Miss Jeans-and-T-shirt Girl.”
“I know.”
“But it suits you.” Cassie stared at the label. “Shit, Dior.”
I nodded. “Uh-huh… You should see what else Aggie gave me.”
“Let me see. Please.” That shouldn’t have surprised me. Cassie loved clothes.
I placed the contents of the bag, which I hadn’t had a chance to hang, on the bed. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to wear the purple floral dress, especially after I’d tried it on and discovered the fit was perfect. It also went with my eyes and hair. I couldn’t resist. As it turned out, Bronson had been the only one that commented on how unique and attractive the dress was.
Cassie lunged for a pair of pink and green striped bell-bottoms. “Oh my God. Vivienne Westwood. They’re outrageously divine. And bell-bottoms are in at the moment.” She held them up against her.
“You can have them,” I said.
Her blue eyes shone with wonder. As she held them against herself and looked in the mirror, she said, “They’re too big. They’ll fit you, though. God, you’re the same size. What a coincidence.”
I nodded. It had struck me as oddly coincidental for some reason.
>
She picked up a Pierre Cardin shirt with a tie around the neck. “This is pure silk and so classy. You’ve hit the jackpot. You could sell these on eBay.”
“I won’t be doing that. I’ll wear them.”
“Even the striped bell-bottoms?”
I rocked my head. “Well, maybe not those. Why don’t you take them and have them adjusted? Here.” I handed them to Cassie. “And take this as well.” I handed her a yellow silk gypsy blouse.
“Givenchy! Freaking hell, Aves, are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. And anyhow, yellow’s more your color.”
She leaned in and kissed me. “You’re the best.”
On that note, I reached into the pile and picked up the purple dress again, for some reason. Perhaps I wanted to show Aggie my appreciation of her generosity. I’d also grown seriously fond of it.
CHAPTER NINE
Aggie stood at the door, and for a moment, I thought I could see something in her eyes that spelled deep, heartfelt emotion.
“That dress. Oh my… And your hair is loose. I’ve never seen it like that. It’s so long and lustrous.”
I remained at the entrance, biting my lip. She had a dazed look on her face, leading me to think that maybe she’d had one martini too many already.
Aggie stepped out of the way, and I entered.
“You don’t mind me wearing it?”
She replied, “Oh no. Please come like that. I prefer color. And you’re a beautiful girl, Ava. You need to take advantage of that wonderful hair. Don’t ever cut it.”
I smiled, thinking of my mom, who kept saying I looked too old-fashioned with it long.
“Come, come. It’s a lovely sunny day again. Let’s sit outside,” said Aggie. Following along, I ambled behind her, and noticed that she was dressed in her regular pink slacks with a pink-and-white polka-dot shirt.
“I must say, Aggie, that shirt’s really nice. It suits you.”
She touched the shirt. “This old thing. I picked it up at Harrods in London in the sixties. A cheapie. But nice. They used good fabrics back then.” She lowered herself onto her favorite chair, which looked more like a cane throne.
“Can I get you a drink?” I asked.
“Of course. It’s that hour. I’ve been a good girl today. I only had a glass of wine with my lunch.”
“That’s great, Aggie. You’re looking really well.”
“I slept well last night. I had a long beautiful dream. An old love of mine came to visit.” She raised a brow, making it seem as though it had actually happened.
When I returned with her martini, Aggie looked disappointed. “You’re not having one?”
“I might abstain for now. Maybe later,” I responded.
“What’s happened to you? There’s been a change. It’s for the better. I can see that.”
“Are you aware that you’re clairvoyant, Aggie?” I said, surprising myself, for my tone was forthright and not the usual wavering one I used around her.
“I’m not normally. But for some reason, you’re very familiar to me. You’re easy to read, Ava.”
My eyebrows contracted. “How so?”
She ignored my question. “Okay, so there’s a change. Tell me, have you left that joyless boyfriend of yours?”
Aggie’s sardonic tone made me grin.
“I have.”
“Good. There’s another, though. Because I see color in those cheeks of yours. That doesn’t happen after a break-up.”
For some reason, I ended up telling Aggie everything that had happened. She even grimaced when I described how Justin had pushed me against the wall.
“So, this tall, dark and handsome man saved you. How gallant. Very romantic.” She lit a cigarette and looked out into the distance.
“I suppose. Only, he’s just gotten out of prison.”
Her head turned sharply to study me again. “It wasn’t murder, though.”
The conviction in her tone made my spine stiffen. “No. How did you guess?”
“By the way… you described him.” That falter in her voice struck me as odd. “He reminds me of Monty.”
“He does?” My brow lowered.
“Tell me then. Continue. What was he in for?”
I took a deep breath. “Drugs, I’m told. Cocaine.”
“Oh, is that all. Mm…” She sat back and sipped her martini. “I used to have the odd sniff at parties. Around here, it was all the rage. That and marijuana. I enjoyed cocaine. It made the blood boil. Great for sex. But I knew a few that fell into the grip of it. It’s a demon drug, that’s for sure. It didn’t do that to me, though. Cigarettes and martinis are my only weaknesses.”
As usual with Aggie’s raves, my jaw dropped. Possessing the type of genes that addicts would have given a kidney to possess, Aggie wore her hedonism with pride.
“Why are you looking at me like that,” she asked.
“I guess I’m awestruck by your…”
“My wild ways?” She raised her eyebrows. “Darling, life is to be had. None of that herbal-tea-and-yoga nonsense for me. I got my exercise from sex and shopping. My nourishment came from eating out at some of Manhattan’s finest restaurants, and of course, I kept myself happy by not worrying about my bad habits.” She laughed.
“These are such different times, I suppose. We’re all reminded to care for ourselves. That our bodies are temples.”
“I’m an atheist, darling.” Her low drawl made me giggle. “Okay, so this sexy man was in prison, and that has put you off him. Am I right?”
I nodded. “I hate to admit it. But yeah. I suppose. His eyes…” I drifted off as I saw them in front of me again.
“Describe them for me.”
“They’re dark brown, sometimes even black. There’s something deep that wants to erupt… a kind of hidden fury. He often reverts to a remote stare when no one’s watching. But then when he looks at me, his eyes soften just a little, even though there’s an element of mistrust or even shame in there. He does seem a little messed up, I suppose,” I said, looking at Aggie with a tight smile.
“My, you do like him.” A dreamy expression coated her stare. “Monty had dark eyes that turned black. He rarely smiled. The brooding type, you know? He loved and hated with equal intensity. In many ways, Monty’s passion frightened me. But oh, how I couldn’t do without him either. Time stood still whenever we were together.”
“Did Monty visit you last night?” I asked.
She nodded slowly with a little smile. She looked younger suddenly.
“How did you meet?” I asked sheepishly, thinking of Aggie’s rule for no questions. But she didn’t seem her normal inscrutable self that day.
“My father adopted Monty when he was five and brought him home one day.”
“Oh… so he was your brother.” My eyebrows met.
“Not by blood.” Aggie turned to look at me.
“Of course, I mean. I didn’t…” I stammered.
“My mother didn’t want him at first. And my brother Clarke hated him. They would fight.” She chuckled. “Of course, Clarke would end up on the ground. Monty was fierce. Well-built and strong. Even as a boy. He became a builder. Even though his money…”
“His money?”
“My father, who adored Monty, left him the lion’s share of his assets. As a result, Monty became fabulously rich.”
“What happened to your brother?”
“Clarke died young. From alcohol abuse. He never recovered after his wife died.”
“That’s sad.”
“Mm… I suppose. But Clarke was horrible to Monty. As a young boy, he would lock him up in cupboards and put spiders in his bed. But I protected Monty. We were thick. By the time we were teenagers, we’d escape to Central Park. It became our wonderland. There’s even a tree there with our names carved in it. Aggie and Monty forever.” She chuckled. “Childish. But sweet. A love heart, you know.” She looked up, and her blue eyes seemed larger, almost youthful.
“So did you be
come sweethearts young?”
“Oh yes. I gave every part of myself to Monty.”
I didn’t have the courage to ask how young.
As though reading my thoughts, Aggie said, “In my days, a woman was mature at thirteen. At least, I was. I had a very shapely body, and my desires were well and truly developed by then.”
I flinched at the thought of sex at thirteen and wondered if it had been illegal in Aggie’s days.
“Our passion was too powerful. It had a force of its own. Almost in a supernatural way. We were meant to be together. Then all that changed.” She sighed. “I went to visit the Johnsons at the Hamptons. It was summer. Monty refused to go. He hated Ashley, who was close to Clarke.” Her eyes had that remote looking-back-in-time glaze, as though she was watching it taking place. “Ashley was tall, blond, blue-eyed and super-confident. He was that charmer who’d enter a room and sweep a girl off her feet by blending a little cheeky comment with a compliment. And they were recklessly wealthy.”
“The Johnson family?”
“Yes. Parties, and so much revelry. I was eighteen, and well, I succumbed to his advances. I remained there for the whole summer, and by the end of it, we were married.”
“And Monty?”
“I broke his heart.” She held her arms and rocked. A tear touched her cheek.
Seeing that Aggie’s glass was empty, I rose. “Can I get you another?”
Clearly distracted, Aggie nodded.
I grabbed a tissue from my bag. “Here.”
Aggie took it and blew her nose.
After I returned and placed her drink by her side, I asked, “Did you see Monty after that?”
“It took two years to see him again. He went away to Chicago. I’d moved in here with Ashley. At first, it was a happy marriage, even though that spark soon died between us. But then Ashley started to drink heavily, and we grew apart. But the worst was yet to come. That happened when Monty returned with a wife. God, how I hated her.” Her edgy rasp prickled the hairs on my arms. “Penelope. Penelope Black.”
“Oh… was that Monty’s surname?”
“Yes. It’s my maiden name. Montgomery Black. It suited him. Tall, strong, dark, and handsome. Women melted around him. He didn’t see it though. He was too intense and internal for that. I don’t know what he saw in Penny. She talked endlessly about nothing with that high-pitched vaporous voice of hers that used to grate on me. I could barely stay in the same room with her. Corrosive jealousy ate at me. I know I had no right to be. And Monty too...” She took a deep breath and grabbed a cigarette.