by C. L. Stone
I only hoped Charleston cared about fashion as much as I did. I’d have to learn local trends, too. It might be different than what I was used to.
I dried myself with one of the bath sheets. I tried not to think about my apartment, what had been my home for several years. I knew the police left very little, according to my neighbor. The thought of it all now gone and sitting in a police store room left a swell of emotion in my throat.
I wasn’t sure how evidence worked, but trials went on forever. Did I have to wait until after a trial was over? Maybe later, I could go back and claim what was mine? Still, it would be months before I got a chance to ask for them to be returned, wouldn’t it?
Did I have to show up for a trial?
Coming to grips with the loss of all I’d worked so hard for weighed on me.
Maybe I should go back and see what was left. Maybe I shouldn’t have abandoned it so easily.
It simply felt wrong to stay and face something I had no responsibility for. I was completely innocent. I couldn’t continue with my work with such a scandal going around, even if I wasn’t a part of the ordeal. I was the one who had the boyfriend, and I was his access to their kids. He got in touch with them through my blog and Instagram. He showed himself off as the frat boy who never grew up and all the kids adored his misbehavior.
I was the connection. That would be unforgivable, even if I’d had no idea what was going on. Who would believe me?
Distrust among clients was a career killer. I couldn’t imagine even staying in town, trying to continue on and having to face them.
I dressed in the robe, and for the sake of Ace, I closed the drapes again in the bedroom, just in case. I didn’t need to be the strange shadow in an upstairs bedroom.
I flicked on the lamp. The golden color warmed up the room. The rug was plush at my feet, and I scrunched my toes into the fibers.
The night before, I was in bed dreaming about matching handbags with outfits, and how much it may take out of my weekly commissions to go on an extended luxury cruise. Tonight, my heart ached with loss and burned hot that someone else in my life could bring everything I’d worked for all down around me.
I tightened my hold on the belt of the robe. Next time, I didn’t want to give anyone a chance to do what my ex had done to me. I didn’t pay attention, and he ruined everything. I vowed to pay attention.
Starting now.
I sat on the bed, and then eased myself back on the mattress, tensing when my burn stung for a minute. I propped myself a little on the plump pillows.
I needed strength. Whether I stayed in Charleston or not, I needed the energy to start new and to never let my guard down.
Luxe
When I woke, it was still dark in the room, the curtains drawn tight with only cracks of light around the edges. The lamp had been turned off.
The clock said seven a.m.
I’d slept hard, and I awoke with aches in my muscles and with my skin tender. The bed had been comfortable, but I was still sore from yesterday. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t even want to move.
A thin comforter had been thrown over my body. Soma must have returned.
I hadn’t expected to sleep so long, but I must have needed it. I was very grateful Soma or Ace hadn’t thought better of it and woken me to ask me to leave.
I yawned, and eventually summoned enough energy to sit up. I cleared my eyes and combed my hair with my fingers, smoothing the strands out around my face. After washing, I hadn’t brushed it, which usually left my hair with a few natural curls that framed my face. Now, it felt stringy and tangled. Probably sun damaged.
My knuckles brushed my cheeks, and the pain radiated, irritated by my touch. I imagined I was still vividly red.
The scent of bakery sweetness suddenly filled my nose. Beside the bed on the nightstand was a shiny, silver tray. On it was a plate with blueberry scones, a small bowl of whole strawberries, and another carafe filled with orange juice.
Soma had been in at least twice without me being aware, to turn out the light and another time to bring me breakfast. If I had slept so hard, I hoped I hadn’t snored.
The scones were a nice touch. Memories of the day before had me embarrassed at having asked so much of them, especially for spending the night without asking.
Envy filled my being at Ace’s fine life, of his antique Charleston home, but mostly for Soma. I knew how hard it was to find someone trustworthy, thoughtful and on top of things. Drawing a bath, carefully selected breakfast, tucking me in... It reminded me of staying in a hotel where a butler had been hired to cater to you for your stay.
Ace’s life was what I worked so hard to get a taste of. Maybe I wouldn’t ever have the millions required to live like he did continually, but I worked hard for what little indulgences I could afford.
I lived for luxuries.
Once I learned what was truly luxe, I made it a mission to divulge and to show others how to in whatever little ways possible. A bath bomb here, a weekend getaway there. They weren’t much, but I saved for and enjoyed every little taste.
Life can be far too short. Not to mention stressful. Whenever possible, indulge. Not into debt. It doesn’t take a lot of money. Free time in a public park can often be the best luxury. That’s what I believed.
I stretched. My muscles were resistant to my efforts but I forced them to warm up. I threw off the blanket and checked my skin. Still tender. My arms, even the backs of my hands, were red. My face felt dry and stiff. I needed more aloe. It would take a couple of days to heal at least, but it wasn’t as bad as last night. I was sore, but I thought once I got moving, I’d be able to get a few things accomplished.
First thing I wanted to do was apologize to Ace for staying over. Depending on his response, I’d either excuse myself and head into Charleston, or find the closest ATM, withdraw some cash and find the nearest bus station.
The fact that he hadn’t come up here asking me to leave told me he didn’t know anything about me. Would I have allowed someone like myself into my home?
I reveled in the juice and scones, and ate a little, even if I normally never ate at breakfast. The scones were soft and buttery, and the orange juice tasted fresh. The best food was the sort you didn’t have to make for yourself, and I loved it.
There was a knock at the door.
I swallowed down what was in my mouth with some juice quickly and brushed my fingers clean of crumbs. I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, with my feet on the floor. “Come in.”
Soma poked his head in, sought me out and then stepped inside, closing the door behind himself. He wore a similar black outfit like last night, except today was a short-sleeved T-shirt, much more casual, that showed off the thin muscles at his biceps. He scanned the room. He remained by the door and after the short inspection, he bowed his head at me. “I hope you slept well.”
I was still in the robe, naked underneath, but otherwise decent. I wasn’t sure why he was so modest for my sake.
His composure and his attractiveness had my insides quivering. “Yes, and I’m sorry for staying the night without asking first.”
“It’s our pleasure to have you, miss,” he said, his head still bowed. “I hope you don’t mind, but I purchased new garments for you. Your clothes were...irreparable.”
I wondered if there was discoloration due to sweat that made them unappealing. How bad was it that he couldn’t deliver them back to me? How embarrassing. My cheeks heated. “You replaced them?”
“I couldn’t find exact matches, so I found something simple and in correct sizes. I hope they’re to your liking.” He motioned to a collection of folded clothing items sitting neatly on a side table by the window.
I rose from the bed and crossed the room to take up each item. Dark slacks and a light blouse, with sheer bra and underwear, and a brand-new pair of sandals.
Had everything been unwearable? How horrid. I smoothed my hands over the extra fine material, and out of habit, checked the labels.
&
nbsp; Most were okay, but the bra and underwear...The brand had been caught a year ago using child workers in third world countries. I detested such things. I hid my hesitation, forced a smile and looked at Soma. Wasn’t his fault. “Thank you.”
Soma lifted his eyes to me and scrunched his eyebrows. “You don’t approve?”
“I...” I shouldn’t say anything. He didn’t know and it was improper of me to deny gifts. “I’m just surprised. Thank you.”
His face relaxed only a little, but he nodded. “When you’re ready, Ace would like to know how you’re doing. He’s currently in his office.”
I imagined he wanted to find a way to get me out of here without an issue. Having a stranger sleep over in his house was probably concerning if he was trying to be low key. Especially if he had people following him with cameras. I smiled and nodded to Soma. “I’ll be happy to.”
Soma acknowledged my answer but remained, lips pursed, his eyes on me.
I waited, wondering. When he didn’t say anything, I spoke. “Thank you for the scones,” I said, unable to think of what else to say to him. “They are delicious.”
“I’ll let the bakery know you approve,” he said, paused, and tilted his head, his pretty eyes concerned. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” His gaze left me and lingered on the collection of clothing.
I sighed. I always had a difficult time hiding my feelings for something I felt so passionately about. I lifted the bra, holding it by an arm strap away from my body. “It’s not you, but...This brand. The company...”
Soma came over to me and took it from me with a quick pluck from my hand. “Is it the material? Are you allergic? I’m so sorry. I didn’t think to ask...”
I waved my hands and blushed. I sputtered my reply as quickly as I could. “Please, no. It’s their reputation. There were inquiries last year regarding the ages of their workers in a third world country, with a failure in compliance to source materials for many years. I would never reject a gift, but...”
Soma’s mouth formed a deep frown and he took up the underwear, draping them and the bra across his arm. “I had no idea. I’m not as familiar with women’s clothing.”
“I don’t want to put you out,” I said and picked up the blouse and the slacks. “I can just wear these for now.”
“I’ll see the undergarments returned,” he said with a sharpness in his tone. “And with a strong protest about why.”
Something I had done when I heard the news. My throat closed in, eyes watering that he took my concern and made it his own. “I’ll go with you, if you’d like.”
“No need,” he said. He bowed his head and moved to the door. There was a spark to his gaze, highlighted by the peaceful smile to his lips. He was finally satisfied that I was happy, which left me bubbly. “When you’re ready, his office is on the first floor, to the left of the front door.” He started out, paused, and then turned once more to me. “Oh, and your wallet and phone were found. He has them in his office. I wasn’t sure you were awake yet, but if you wish for me to fetch them...”
This left me with hope that they still didn’t know anything about me. Good. “No. That’s fine. I’ll collect them myself. Thank you,” I said.
The moment he left, I regretted sending him off on my own personal vendetta. He was probably busy enough without protesting on my behalf. I just couldn’t stand spending money on a company with little regard about their supply chains. Too many companies bought from other countries on the cheap without asking questions.
When one has the luxury of choice in purchasing, one has the responsibility to spend carefully.
For me, I wanted to ensure I was always on the right side, to support a brand that was worthy of every hard- earned dollar.
Guilt-free spending was the best luxury.
I dressed quickly, putting on the shoes, the leather stiff against the tops of my feet that were also red. I did what I could with a hairbrush I found in the bathroom. I wished I had some make up supplies to hide the color in my face and smooth things out, but there was nothing available. I used what lotions I could on my body to hydrate instead.
I left my hair down around my shoulders, letting out layers around my cheeks to hide what it could.
I lingered at the mirror, brushing out my hair again and adjusting the blouse, hoping the light-colored top wasn’t exposing my lack of bra.
Why was I nervous?
Because Ace was handsome, and had seen the worst of me. Despite his odd manner, he went above and beyond. He had a beautiful home. There was Soma, as well. In a way, Soma was an extension of Ace. Ace had to have seen something in Soma to let him work here. That showed a good character, a certain quality.
And I was the girl hitchhiking on the side of the road, begging for help. I wanted to prove I was more than that. I didn’t want him to regret saving me.
Just breathe, girl.
I breathed out slowly as I walked out of the bedroom door. I’d miss this room, and Soma, even if I’d been there less than a day. The room had been so quiet, so unlike my apartment in the city. Cozy, and with Soma looking out for me, it was a lovely escape.
I imagined my face to be green, as much as I wanted what Ace had for myself.
Arrangement
The hallway on the second level was narrower than I remembered coming in. I took my time on my way to see Ace. I wanted to take in the portraits, the ferns in pots, the fresh lilies in the vases. The air tasted of old wood, of flower fragrances, and a hint of cleaning products. There was artistry in the wood floor as much as the molding or wallpaper. The house made you want to slow down, to appreciate antique craftsmanship.
It might be a while before I was in such a home again, if ever.
Ace might chuck his seven-hundred-dollar jacket into the backseat of his car, but he maintained his home. The portraits were restored. The details in the ornamental floor and ceiling molding had been preserved.
I floated in the sandals, to not make an echo when walking over the carpet runner, and approached the stairs. I felt the cool wood of the balustrade with my palm. My fingers traced the wallpaper as I descended, taking in the very delicate lift of thickness in the pattern.
On the ground floor, the air was still. If Ace had anyone else other than Soma in the house, they didn’t make a sound.
The hall and entryway at the front of the house was more open, with tall windows surrounding the front door. There was an open sitting area, with a white fireplace and antique furniture, reminiscent of old Southern style.
I found the office door open just a sliver. Ace’s voice drifted out, one sided. He was talking on the phone.
I knocked gently to alert him of my presence and poked my head in.
He kept the cell phone pressed to his cheek and raised a hand to wave me in but showed me a single finger: give me a minute.
I stood at the edge of a Persian rug with hands clasped behind my back, waiting. His office had a built-in bookshelf on one side, filled with old volumes with faded gilt titles, and an unlit fireplace on the other. There was a wide window to the back looking out on the garden.
The office had to have been intended for a library or parlor when it was constructed. From his point of view, I realized the garden had a checkerboard set up. There were stone slabs dotted with squares of green grass, with an occasional short hedge, perhaps to signify game pieces, and the occasional stand in statue. Beyond that garden was the street, and the wall was low. Anyone could see into the room if they really wanted.
A wide-open window. Wasn’t he worried about his vloggers? I was inclined to dodge so my face was unseen.
There was a wide, dark-stained desk in front of the window and behind it sat Ace in a high-backed office chair. His hair was neat. He wore a gray Littlehurst sweater, snug at the chest. That was the way it was designed, to show form to a masculine figure.
I loved that style.
It was stunning on him, especially with his tan face, the shadow of his unshaven, wide jaw and the vivid
blue of his eyes. I knew models who would have been envious of his ability to look good so tanned without looking weather-worn. I wondered if it could be his natural skin color.
Altogether, it made his eyes just pop brighter, like they could glow.
Between Soma and Ace, I wanted to dress them both. They had such unique colors and fine figures.
The desk set contained a small silver clock and fountain pens, stapler, and other accoutrements. I tried not to overhear by focusing on the knickknacks and attempting to read the faded book titles.
Ace remained silent on his end, and the only sound for a few minutes was a male voice coming from his phone.
After a bit, the voice silenced. Ace hung up without a word and then flashed a smile at me. “Wow, you look completely different.”
Odd. He didn’t say goodbye? This threw off my initial train of thought. I tightened my hands behind my back, holding my position. “I should thank you for—”
“I mean besides the tomato face.”
My mouth fell open, and I sputtered instead of responding. This made my throat tighten and I coughed, embarrassed to sound just as unsophisticated.
His eyes widened and he held out his hands in a defensive motion, reaching for me as if to offer assistance, but then holding back. “No...I...meant that as a joke. Too soon?”
The edge of my mouth inched up, more for saving grace between us than finding the humor. “I’m...fine,” I said. That wasn’t a great response. Where was my tact around him?
He stood, hurried around the desk and pulled over a chair that had been sitting in the corner. He turned it until it faced the desk, and slapped a palm once on the back of it. “Come, sit down. Sorry about my horrible sense of humor. Soma doesn’t think I’m funny, either.”
Did anyone?
He held the chair as I sat, and then instead of going back to his seat, he eased most of his desk furnishings aside so he could sit on top. The stapler fell over on its side in a thunderous vibration of metal against wood, causing an awkwardness in the following silence.