Braxton

by Shayne Ford

  I slowly take her in from the tip of her heels to the bronzed skin, generous cleavage, and intoxicating confidence.

  Somehow she doesn’t seem to belong here, either.

  She certainly doesn’t look like one of the family members, and she’s not part of the younger crowd. She’s the kind of woman the lady of the house would purposely forget to invite.

  I know my mom would.

  She’s good looking, unattached, and most likely on the prowl.

  My gaze skims her hands. There’s no engagement ring or wedding band.

  “I’m Violet Brown,” I say without stretching my hand out.

  She doesn’t seem to care or offer her name. Forget about the hand.

  “And who are you here with, Violet Brown?” she asks, smiling cunningly.

  “Friends,” I say tentatively.

  “You mean Jagger and Braxton.”

  My heart drops.

  “Yes,” I say, her eyes drilling me, her smile unnerving.

  My gut screams at me to pick up my glass of wine, and walk away.

  “You know them?” I ask, flicking my eyes to her, truly expecting the worst.

  A mysterious smile creeps up her lips. She brings her glass to her mouth and takes a swig, trying to hide her smug expression.

  “Yeah, I’d say that...”

  “Friends?”

  “Family friends,” she says, flashing an obnoxious smile. “My husband used to do business with David Parker.”

  “Used to?”

  She gives me a sly grin.

  “I should say, ex-husband.”

  I bite my lip and nod.

  A few moments tick by, the air thickening with tension.

  “They are a lot of fun,” she says as if she’s talking about a bunch of kids, and a wave of heat breaks out on my back.

  She couldn’t make it any clearer to me, and I’m trying to figure out when she learned they were a lot of fun, and how old were they then, since now they’re barely twenty-one.

  “Too bad they get bored so easily,” she adds, and my lungs almost collapse as I let out a long exhale.

  “Meaning?” I ask, playing stupid.

  She shifts in her seat, her knees pointing at me, one eyebrow arching smoothly. She gives me a languorous smile, her eyes lingering on my lips, her fingers brushing my cheek.

  Gently, she slides her hand down my neck and rests it on my shoulder.

  I look at her, dumbstruck.

  “I think you know what I’m talking about, Violet Brown, so enjoy the ride as long as it lasts... It’s a hell of a ride.”

  My mouth drops open, and her gaze dips to my lips.

  A soft rustle rolls in my ears as footsteps edge to us.

  “Here you are, Anja,” the man says.

  Brown-haired, tall and good-looking, her friend fashions a suit that embraces his frame impeccably. Smoothly, she pushes off the bench and grabs his hand while her companion gives me a short nod and a polite smile.

  “It was nice talking to you,” she says, affected.

  The man glances at me one last time before he wraps his arm around her waist and leads her away.

  My gaze follows them just as Braxton enters my view, heading my way. They stop briefly and exchange a few words, Braxton gracing them with an impersonal smile.

  The men shake hands before they part ways and Braxton walks to me.

  He locks eyes with me as he slides onto the bench, then he sets his glass down and rests his ankle on his knee.

  I study him in silence. He glances at me.

  “What happened, Violet?”

  A shadow brushes his eyes.

  “Who’s that woman?” I ask.

  “Nobody. Why do you want to know?” he tosses back at me, a bit nervous.

  “She kinda hit on me...” I say jokingly.

  “She did?”

  His lips curve into a sly smile.

  “It’s not funny, Braxton, and I’m sure she does it with everybody...”

  He purses his lips, crushing another smile, and looks away.

  “So, who is she? She says she’s a family friend.”

  His hand goes through his hair as he’s still trying to hide his smirk.

  “Yeah... she kinda is... was... she still is...” he says, amused, and I pinch his forearm.

  Hard.

  “Ouch... That fucking hurt,” he says and flips his eyes to me, his playful grin spilling all over his face.

  I glare at him.

  “Who fucked her?”

  His nose scrunches up with another smirk.

  “You mean who’s fucking her?”

  “Now, I guess the man who collected her...” I offer.

  He shakes his head slowly.

  “That’s her gay friend. A decoy...”

  “Decoy?”

  My blood freezes in my veins.

  “So, who fucks her then?”

  “If I tell you, he’s gonna kill me.”

  My blood drains out of my face.

  “He?”

  “Jagger.”

  My fingers start to tremble. I put the glass on the bench. His hand comes to mine, his eyes no longer smiling.

  “No, no... It’s not what you think.”

  “But she knows you two...”

  “Yeah, it’s an old story,” he says, his fingers sweeping the corner of his lips.

  “How old were you?”

  “Eighteen. It was a stupid birthday party bet. My birthday party. We ended up drunk in her condo in the city.”

  My hands shoot up, my chest rising with a gulp of air.

  “That’s enough... I don’t need to hear more,” I say, my voice shaking.

  He cuffs my wrists and leans close to me.

  “Listen to me, Violet,” he says, serious, his eyes sinking into mine. “He’s not a choirboy, and I’m not one either. We are who we are, and you love him because of how he is. Don’t try to put a foot in the past and one in the future and miss the whole damn present because you get hung up on some stupid shit that only lives in your head.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Thirty-four, thirty-five... something like that.”

  “Okay,” I say, my voice softer, and his hands slacken on me.

  He loops his arm around my shoulders and keeps me close to him, my body warming up from his. His scent rolls over my skin.

  He roots his gaze on the water, and I bring my fingers to his face and brush away his bangs to see his eyes.

  They sparkle in the dimness.

  “What?” he murmurs without looking at me.

  “So who’s fucking her now?” I ask softly.

  He cuts his eyes to me and studies me.

  “Jagger’s dad,” he says, quietly.

  “Oh, shit,” I say under my breath. “Is... Does his mom...?”

  I keep stumbling through words, so I pause.

  “Know?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Possibly.”

  His eyes swing back to the lake. A few moments of silence slip by.

  “How long have you known Jagger?”

  “We grew up together. I don’t remember a time when we weren’t together. Our parents were friends. They got along really well. They still do, it’s just that these days, Jagger’s parents spend more time here while mine travel to Europe more often. Our dads used to do business together. Jagger and I spent most of our summers together. Usually at my home. Riding, swimming, sailing. After we had finished high school, we traveled and partied a lot. We were lucky to be able to do all that. We were pretty much inseparable.”

  “Still are…” I say, a smile weaving in my voice.

  “Yeah... sort of...” he says, grinning and he looks the other away, evading my eyes.

  “Why were you so quiet on our way here?”

  “No reason,” he says too fast not to be a lie.

  “Braxton?”

  He looks at me.

  “Seriously. It’s nothing,” he says with a softer voice, sadness filling
his eyes, and I quickly realize it’s not something he wants to talk about.

  6

  VIOLET

  As the party winds down, the family and close friends gather on the terrace. Some of them dance while others sit at the tables.

  “Hi,” a man’s voice echoes behind my back. I spin around. “I’m David Parker. We didn’t have the chance to be properly introduced,” he says, just as I pick up a champagne flute from a server’s tray.

  He examines me with unbridled curiosity.

  “Violet Brown,” I say, stretching my hand out.

  He clamps his hand over mine and gives me a gentle squeeze.

  “I understand you’re our new neighbor, back home.”

  “Yes,” I say, and swiftly take a sip of champagne.

  “How come I’ve never seen you?”

  “I moved in recently.”

  “Oh... I see. The property was on the market for some time. Have you bought it?”

  “No. I rented it.”

  “Interesting.”

  His eyes slip to my fingers.

  “Alone?”

  “Yes,” I say in a breath, and then I realize it’s not his damn business, and yet somehow he makes me feel like it is.

  A knowing smile rolls on his lips, and blood rushes to my face.

  “Jagger never mentioned you.”

  He looks at me, his lips pursed, his eyes glinting with a wolfish grin. He’s no dummy. One look at us, and he’s figured out most of it if not everything, including the frolicking in the water this afternoon.

  I swallow hard and take another swig of champagne, grappling to conceal my nervousness.

  "Actually, we first met at work and later on we found out we’re neighbors.”

  “Um... I see.”

  The corners of his eyes wrinkle with a small smile.

  “You care to dance?”

  My heart tumbles, and I jerk back awkwardly, almost dropping the glass.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  I slide the glass onto the table and turn to him. He wraps his arm around my waist, his fingers threading through mine.

  We twirl slowly as he leads me with the poise and grace of a seasoned dancer.

  “So what brings you to Florida?” he asks.

  “Um...vacation. I took a few days off... and...”

  He observes me, amused.

  “You travel with Jagger and Braxton?”

  “Not exactly,” I say, sweating profusely. “I mean, we didn’t come together...” I mumble, the words coming off so wrong my face burns.

  Actually, we did come together.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I whip my head to the side and blow a strand of hair away from my face.

  “Relax,” he says with a different voice–– softer, warmer, while he pats me on my back.

  “They could’ve stayed with us, but Jagger insisted on crashing at the hotel. Now, I know why...”

  Oh, he didn’t just say that.

  We lock eyes briefly. If his wife is as insightful as he is, I’m fucked.

  “He...” I start with a trembling voice, and his eyebrows shoot up, his head tilting to the side.

  “Yes?”

  “He didn’t know I was coming,” I mutter, and he smiles and goes silent for a moment.

  “You know he’s young,” he says, and a shiver rushes through me as he searches my eyes. “He knows women, but his heart is still untouched,” he says.

  So is mine, I wish I’d have the courage to say it.

  “He has good taste. I’ll give him that,” he says, flashing a charming grin, and then he leans close to my ear.

  “Try not to make it hard for him, and the less my wife knows, the better,” he adds as his eyes cut across the room.

  Before I can give him a reply, he motions to Jagger.

  “It was nice meeting you, Violet,” he says, pulling away as Jagger drapes his arm around my shoulders.

  He presses me into him, and I sense him restless.

  “What did he say?” he murmurs in my ear.

  “He knows...” I say, stiff with tension.

  He slightly pulls away so he can see my eyes.

  “And?”

  “It’s better if your mom doesn’t know. That’s what he said.”

  Anger flashes through his eyes.

  “She’ll get used to it,” he growls through clenched teeth.

  “That’s not how these things work, Jagger. Don’t make everything more complicated than it already is. At the right time, maybe, but not now. ”

  His arm slides off me, his hand grabbing mine.

  “Let’s go,” he murmurs.

  My eyes go wide as his mother’s silhouette looms behind him. Arching an eyebrow, I discreetly motion to her. Reluctantly, Jagger spins around and faces her.

  She stretches her hand out to me.

  “Violet Brown, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sonia Parker.”

  We connect hands, her eyes going down on me without the slightest subtlety.

  “Jagger said you’re a co-worker and also... our neighbor.”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes pull into a line as she opens her mouth to say something else.

  “We have to go back,” Jagger says abruptly. “Her flight is early morning, and she has to catch some sleep,” he adds, all motherly.

  “What about you?”

  She shifts her focus to him, and the air between them crackles with tension.

  “Braxton and I fly back on Tuesday. I’ll call when I get home.”

  “Okay, then,” she says, displeased. “I look forward to meeting you again in New York,” she says to me, and I manage to give her a soft nod before Jagger pulls me away.

  He texts Braxton on our way out, and we find him sitting on the stairs outside. Alone.

  “Done?”

  He rises to his feet and follows us.

  “What were you doing here, by yourself?” I ask.

  Before he can give me an answer, Jagger picks up the pace, rushing me to the limo. I slide onto the back seat, and wedge between them.

  The air fills with silence and tension, Braxton brooding over something, Jagger’s eyes spewing anger.

  “Stop thinking about it. It’s nothing,” I say to Jagger.

  He shakes his head and cuts his eyes to the window.

  “What happened to you, Braxton?” I ask, turning to him.

  “Nothing,” he mutters, swinging his gaze away as well.

  Okay.

  “I wish I could go somewhere far from here,” Braxton says after a while, with a nostalgic voice.

  “Me, too,” Jagger murmurs as if they’re alone.

  I lean my head against the headrest, and close my eyes.

  These have been some of the most confusing days of my life. I don’t know what their problem is. Honestly, I don’t even know what my own problems are. All I know is that I wish I could go away with them.

  Sail offshore, like that boat I saw on the ocean.

  Violet

  The open patio doors let in the ocean breeze. Jars of glass with trembling lights are scattered all over the floor.

  “Are you still mad?” I ask Jagger.

  He leans against the windowsill, his arms folded over his chest.

  “No.”

  I stand in front of him and look outside.

  “I don’t want to hide from anyone,” he finally bursts out. “I’m not a fucking criminal. I didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, frustration spilling in his voice. “Why am I even telling you this? You’ve been through this crap...” he murmurs.

  I glance at him.

  “Yes, I have, and it’s never right or wrong, and it’s all about personal values and emotions. At least your dad doesn’t have anything against me.”

  “That’s because he likes you...” he says, flashing an amused smile.

  “Why are you smiling like that?”

  “He’s fucking smitten with you.”

  “He is?” I ask, fli
rtatiously.

  Grinning, he nods.

  “Don’t do this to me, Violet.”

  “Do what?” I ask, parting my lips and giving him a sultry look.

  He loops his arm around me and pulls me between his legs.

  My body temperature spikes.

  “There’s nothing like a woman who blushes,” he says, his knuckles brushing my jawline, his eyes dipping to my dress.

  He bites his bottom lip.

  “What is it?” I murmur.

  “You got me in a lot of trouble.”

  “If I remember correctly, you asked for it...”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah really,” I say smiling. “Speaking of trouble...There was a woman at the party...” I say, and the ghost of a shadow passes through his eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “Young, blonde. She wore a blue gown. She spent a lot of time with your mom.”

  “What about her?”

  “Who is she?”

  “Her parents are family friends. She’s the woman my mom would like to see me married to.”

  “Oh...” I say, disappointed.

  “I thought we were past this topic,” he says, frustrated.

  “We are,” I mutter, visibly irritated.

  “Then, why does it still upset you?”

  I try to pull away from him, but he keeps me in place.

  “Violet?” He locks my eyes. “Why do you have to do this?” he asks.

  My lips begin to tremble.

  “I don’t want to do anything...”

  “Then fucking don’t do it. You asked. I told you. It’s not a fucking secret. You can’t turn on a dime every time you hear something like that. It is what it is. There are men your mom wants to see you married to, and you don’t see me going as crazy as you do. Am I right?” I nod. “Then let it go.”

  We share a stare for a few moments before I speak again.

  “You know... Everybody’s warned me not to break your heart,” I say.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Braxton... Your dad...” I pause and worry sets in his gaze. “But I think you’ll break mine,” I mutter.

  “Please don’t say that...”

  “It’s the truth... The thing is...” I continue, and fear grows in his eyes. “Even if it’s the truth I don’t think there’s much I can do right now.” My fingers splay over his neck. “This could be so wrong or so right,” I say.