Eluding Nirvana (The Dark Evoke Series Book 2)

by Brock, V. L.

  “That’s brilliant news.”

  “Yes, it is. Which reminds me,”––my eyes followed him as he took well-measured strides from the corner of the kitchen island, back to my side and set a warm hand on my shoulder––“I think we should go out tonight, go and have a meal somewhere, make the most of things?”

  Make the most of things? I had no indication of what he meant by that. As though he was noting my silent question, he answered, “With all the changes over the last few months, the move, the contract…us.” His gaze drifted from my tightlipped, querying grin, to the woman whose boobs were spilling over the low rectangle-cut of her cream top. “Liv, are you up for it?”

  “It’s my night off, sitting home with a tub of ice-cream and shit TV, or going out with my two favorite people…” she flailed her head and upturned her lips. “No contest. Count me in.”

  My shoulder burned with Liam’s expectant stare. “Well?”

  Tipping my head back, I muttered apologetically, “I told Laurie that I would cal––” only to have my statement cut short.

  “Invite her, too.”

  “What?”

  “Invite her along.” His gaze diverted from me, back to the brunette opposite cradling a mug of coffee in her hands. He finished with a cocky tip of his lips, “The more the merrier, right?”

  As I rose from my seat, the legs protested and grated across the tiled flooring, and I hooked my hair back behind my ear. “Okay, well, only if you’re sure though.”

  “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure.” He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on my lips. When he pulled back, he mouthed, “You deserve it.”

  Oh Liam. You don’t half spoil me, I thought to myself with a smile, then excused myself to the foyer and dialed Laurie’s number.

  After a few annoying drills of the connecting call, I was greeted by her familiar buoyant tone. Once the brief small talk was over, I reiterated Liam’s decision of going out for a meal, and that he extended an invite to her also, considering Liv was tagging along.

  “Kady, I’d love to, but I kind of promised my cousin that he could pop over and order shitty food.”

  The small of my back rested against the sideboard against the stairs. “I’m sure Liam wouldn’t mind if you brought him along as well. He did say, ‘the more the merrier’,” I answered while I folded my right arm over my middle.

  “Really? Liam said that?” Her questioning tone and fleeting moment of disbelief mirrored my own. Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to argue with him, his decisions, or begin an interrogation. It’s those moves which had always landed me in Shit Street.

  Once she finally relented, Liam craned his head around the doorframe. I covered the mouth piece with my right hand. “She asked where and when?” I whispered.

  “Hamersley’s Bistro, 8:00 p.m.”

  “Hamersley’s at 8?” I relayed down the speaker.

  “Hamersley’s? Goodness, he is pushing the boat out. I’d be happy with a slice of pizza from Jasper’s.” our moment of amused snorting came to an abrupt end as I studied Liam and his dubious glare which he was throwing at me.

  “We’ll meet you there, Laurie. See you soon.” With the handset set on its cradle once I ended the call, I turned my focus to the impeccably dressed man in the doorway. You’d never suspect he had just finished nearly twelve hours at work. “She said thank you, and they’ll meet us there.”

  His pants pockets were slightly weighed down as his hands hung loosely in them. His lower lip was caressed by his tongue as he focused on his feet with each leisurely stride toward me. “They?” he questioned, his feet scuffing the wooden flooring with menacing strides, causing and my heart rate to increase.

  Fuck.

  “She was supposed to be spending time with her cousin, I’m sorry Liam. You said the more the merrier, so I just assumed that it would be okay to invite him along.” Eyes screwed, I felt the wrinkles span across my forehead while my neck and shoulders gave into the weight bored upon it. My head began to fall forward and shoulders began to slouch. “God, I am so stupid, what was I thinking? I’m sorry––”

  “Hey,” my face was coated by his minty breath, while his hand rose to cradle my cheek. I suppressed the urge to flinch. When my head was coaxed upward to meet his scrutiny, I was chanced by soft, forgiving eyes looking back at me. “Please stop worrying. It is okay, I did say that, and I meant it––”

  “But I had no right to assume it in the first place. Liam, please forgive me. I’m so, so sorry.” His handsome, benevolent face was beginning to swim and distort as tears assembled and glazed over my pale blue eyes.

  “I forgive you, Kady.” As the words were freed from his lips, I felt myself physically lax, and when his mouth slanted over mine and his tongue dipped into my mouth as I gave him an opening, my tears dissolved. “Now go upstairs and get yourself ready,” he breathed against my mouth when he pulled away. His warm, gentle hand lingered on my face, his thumb caressing the arch of my cheekbone. “Maybe wear that mint green blouse with those dark jeans. You know how much I love it on you.”

  “Okay,” I nodded and stepped out of his clutch, his hand dropping from my face. I was rewarded with a small smack on the ass, when I turned on my heel to head for the stairs, and he went back to into the dining room to keep Liv company.

  Liam and Liv filed into the BMW while I rummaged through my purse for my keys and locked the front door. Their hushed conversation was brought to an abrupt end when I slipped into the front passenger seat, and concluded with Liv playfully swatting his left shoulder from the back seat. “Okay, children, less of that, let’s get going because I am starving,” I teased lightly drawing the belt across my body.

  Liam was just about to pull out of the driveway when his hand came down on my thigh. “You look gorgeous.”

  My heart melted. I took his advice and opted for my dark, skinny jeans and pale mint, silk blouse with gold buttons and matching green heels. My hair was twisted and clipped into place, giving me nothing to hide behind, just how Liam liked it. Gazing into his eyes for an eternity, my lips tipped into a content smile. “Thank you.”

  “Okay, come on, enough with the mushy talk,” the voice from the back seat griped, and I couldn’t help but snigger. If only she knew how much I appreciated this degree of, ‘mushy talk’.

  “Why, Liv, making you jealous?” Liam teased, staring intently in the rearview mirror as he began pulling out of the driveway.

  “Nauseous, more like.”

  I shook my head to myself, thinking that when she finds the man of her dreams, she will be the first to revel in ‘mushy talk’.

  It was 7:55 p.m. when we pulled up outside the restaurant and Liam handed the keys, along with a substantial tip, to the valet parking before linking out fingers together and leading us to the olive green entrance.

  I scanned the area and peeked back at the man beside me. “What about Laurie? She’s not here yet.”

  His warm, soft fingers had already begun to come loose around my own as Liv muttered, “We can go in and get a table, and you can wait for Laurie, right Liam?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Will you be okay with that, baby?”

  Liv was already holding the door open when I smiled and nodded my acquiescence. I watched as they stepped inside, Liam’s hand resting on the small of her back as he steered her into the warmth of the bistro, as I waited alone in the chilly breeze.

  A stone rolled under my foot, as I sluggishly perused the area decorated with two green metal benches, potted ferns and the large green awning over the door. Lots of green, I thought to myself, and idly contemplated the chance of the interior matching the pallet of the exterior, when a bubbly, high voice shrieked, “Hey, girlie.”

  By the time I lifted my head, Laurie was bouncing her way toward me, her black hair was loose, tumbling past her shoulders, while the splash of cosmic blue dye spruced her bangs.

  Cosmic blue…

  Memories of my sister and her beauty mishap refused to stay dor
mant. As I strived to shake the thought out of my head, where it should no longer dwell, arms of the petite, pale woman, had by now encompassed me and were ruthlessly squeezing me like a ragdoll.

  “Laurie, you made it,” I strained returning her embrace.

  “Yeah, sorry I’m late,” she nudged her head into the direction she just surfaced from while holding me at arm’s length. “You can blame him.”

  “’Blame me’ says the woman who spent fifteen minutes admiring herself. That’s love for you right there.”

  Showered by familiarity, I peeked up and watched as the man strolled toward the entrance. His brown hair was longer on the top and left slightly disheveled as he raked his hand through prior to letting it go limp at his side. The white T-shirt beneath his navy and caramel plaid shirt was exposed as his left hand sat peacefully in his beige denim pants pocket, trapping the one-side of the shirt behind his forearm.

  “Hey, Kady, nice to see you again.”

  My eyes bulged out of their sockets, and my mouth went dry. I turned my attention back to the secretive woman beside me. “Walker is your cousin?”

  “What?” her shoulders practically touched her ears. “You never asked.”

  “But, you’re not Irish.”

  “Technically, it’s only by marriage. My uncle married her aunt,” Walker clarified.

  With an exasperated shake of my head, I gestured toward to entrance, muttering, “Six degrees of separation is everywhere you turn.”

  Shuffling into the warmth of the establishment, we were instantly drowned by pristine cream walls and bright white light from the hanging candelabras, the glow reflected off the surface of the surrounding mirrors and glass paneled doorways which lead into a more intimate, smaller dining area. Patrons sat at their crisp white covered tables, adorned with fresh white lilies in the center as glistening crystal glasses waited to be filled.

  The maître d' led the way, weaving past scattered tables as we made our way through the bistro, where we emerged in the smaller dining area. Four spacious wrought iron candelabras hung from wooden beams, while a bar extended across the length of the right wall. Square tables were covered in the same crisp, white lining cloths and decorated with beautiful, white lilies just as they were in the larger room. This area may have been intimate; the glow may have been subtler, though it didn’t lack elegance by any means.

  My paranoia whispered taunting words when I sighted Liam and Liv, once again, in hushed conversation when we made our way to join them. He was smiling and nodding at something she had said, when his eyes became rigid as gestured toward us with a tip of his brow.

  Rising from his seat as we neared, he snaked his left arm around my waist, drawing me into his side. “Kady,” his barely audible voice became even fainter as his lips slanted over mine. The maître d' scuttled off back to his position by the time I lowered myself into the waiting seat.

  “Laurie, Walker,” he nodded his acknowledgement to each of our little party as they took their places opposite.

  “Boss,” Walker responded, mirroring his nod. It still seemed strange hearing someone calling my boyfriend boss.

  I introduced the Irishman to Liv, who extended her arm over the table for a friendly handshake, before she went back to focusing on Liam. “Shall we browse and order then?” she asked, handing us each a menu, and it was one of the best suggestions I had heard all day. I was famished.

  Within minutes, the young waiter was signaled over to our table of five, with his notepad and pen in hand.

  “We will have two of the grilled New Zealand venison, one of the deviled eggs with house smoked salmon and caper aioli, and two of the garlic roast chicken.”

  Liam had barely finished placing the order when I looked up at the young, smartly dressed gentleman and added, “Extra garlic––” The entire table fell into a deathly silence when my words were shadowed by Walker’s reiteration. Our eyes locked across the table as shy smiles danced across our features. How could something so innocent, feel so illicit?

  “Not another self-confessed garlic freak,” Laurie jeered, her tone playful. Even so, her speech was merely a muffle in my ears as Walker and I continued examining each other. “How did I not know that about you?”

  Flailing my head and lifting my shoulders, I was becoming somewhat nervous about the reaction this could prompt in Liam. Yes, it was a trivial chancing, but it was something that I had in common with another male. Taking into consideration that he thought I was flirting with his employee the last time I was in his company, I didn’t like the chances that he would possibly twist something in that head of his, and insinuate I was doing it again. Or maybe I was and I just couldn’t see it.

  Either way, I wasn’t going to continue standing on the railway tracks while I waited for Freight Train Liam to come hurling toward me. As a result, I tore my gaze away from the man smirking affectionately ahead of me and hung my head low. For my own peace of mind, I remained mute with my focus aimed into my lap while the waiter scurried off to the kitchen.

  “So, Kady how’s the baking coming along?” Laurie questioned over the table, placing her fork into her left hand and retrieving her glass of Shiraz, taking a welcome sip.

  “Really well actually; you were right. It is relaxing.” I craned my head to the man sitting at my right with that deviled egg on his plate dredging up some difficult memories. In spite of everything, I locked them back in the steel encased box at the back of my memory, and only focused on the behavior I demonstrated that monstrous night, which resulted in my fate. I wouldn’t act that way again. “Liam’s enjoying them, too.” I forced a grin.

  “You know, there are courses you can go on to further those skills, Kady.”

  “Further?” so much caution dripped from that lone word.

  “There are plenty of courses which help teach the art of actually decorating them. They usually only run for a few weeks, but they teach you everything you need to know.”

  “You know,” Liam interjected, pointing and waving his fork in a loose grasp, in Laurie’s direction. “That is a really good idea.”

  “I don’t know, I don’t think I’d be very good around new people. I––”

  “Kady, this could really open up some doors for you. I think it’s an amazing idea.”

  “But what about––”

  “No, don’t worry your pretty little head over it. I’ll sort out everything,” he winked.

  And just like that, I felt that same fisted, irate feeling consume me when I realized that, once again, I didn’t have a choice in this. This wasn’t a decision I could make, it wasn’t a decision I was being allowed to make. What made it even worse: Liam was going to be the one forking out the costs for all of this…failure wasn’t going to be an option. In that lapsing moment, I dreaded the consequences of if I did indeed fail.

  The fork was carefully set to the side of my plate as my hand lifted to my throat. I couldn’t sit there for a moment longer, I felt like I was being smothered, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t focus on anything other than being forced into something which should have been optional, instead, Liam had just made it mandatory. My head was fogging, my breathing ragged.

  All I desperately wanted was to just slam my hands down on that crisp white table and tell everyone to back the fuck off, that it was my life, my options, and my fucking decisions. Oxygen caught in my throat, the buzzing in my ears made my vision shake. I had to get away. Urgently.

  “I need to use the restroom,” I excused myself, and slipped my clutch purse under my arm as I headed to the privacy of the ladies with one sole purpose.

  I locked myself in one of the empty stalls, feeling like some fugitive. With the toilet seat lowered, I perched myself on the edge and folded myself over to frantically empty the contents of my purse over the cream tiled flooring, totally uncaring of the thunderous clattering. Cell phone…purse…cards…bills…

  The inner-side zipper was hastily opened, and I yanked out a small, metal nail file and held it between
my fingers like it was my lifeline––the silver edge reflecting the overhead halogens. Breathing still rough and my thoughts still clouded, I shunted myself from the toilet, undid my jeans and lowered them over my hips, down to mid-thigh.

  Panic and alarm, trepidation and angst, so many overwhelming emotions surged through my body, making me physically tremble and heated tears gathered in my eyes. He took it away from me…again, and in the presence of our friends…

  I didn’t feel like a grown woman. Dammit, I was twenty-five but made to feel like a reduced being that needed her actions in life dictated at every turn. I needed it back; I needed something I had power over, something I could manage.

  With that sole thought, that one purpose, I pressed the shiny hooked edge of the file against my thigh. But it didn’t help. My head was still a haze of anger and resentment, so I pressed it in deeper. Still nothing I frantically sought was regained.

  I needed, even just for an idle moment, to feel and salvage that sliver of control.

  I felt the abrasion of the file slipping and grazing between the surfaces of my fingertips as I pushed the implement into my leg with exacting force.

  Harder…

  A slow burning and a somewhat bruising sensation began to encircle the area being gradually impaled.

  Tears fell; yet, I pushed harder…

  Stifling a whimper, I tipped my head back. There it was: that sharp stabbing sensation. The burning of my flesh circled around the skewer as I speared it into my thigh. It hurt like Hell––a raw, tender throbbing, which soon radiated down the tissue of my leg in regularity of the pulse in my neck. I’d reached my limit.

  Breathe in…breathe out…in…out…slowly…methodically…

  Gradually decreasing the pressure which I bore upon the tool with each stable and balanced inhalation, the racing, unsteady thoughts began to stabilize and regulate. I was drawn back; the pain was my lighthouse in the dark, overpowering tide of the stormiest seas.

  My eyes closed as twin tears glided down my cheeks, and I sunk into my moment of tranquility and lucidity. My grip on the file released sending it plummeting and clattering onto the tile of the stall.