The Wedding: Dark Romance

by Sienna Mynx

  “And you can do that sweetheart. You’re a grown woman now. You have your whole life ahead of you. Xavier loves you, we all see it. Your grand may be old-fashioned but this marriage is your future. Your father and I will make sure you have everything you deserve.”

  “Oh good grief,” I let her go. I walk to the balcony’s edge and shake my head. “What if I deserve to stand on my own. To not be propped up by the Laure or Lacroix money and name? What if I said I don’t want to get married? Not in August. Not ever.”

  “I’d say fine, you and Xavier can wait until you’re ready on the wedding. But let me tell you something sweetheart. Life outside of this golden palace we built for you is hard. Harder than you can ever imagine. And growing up isn’t about choosing between feelings. It’s about making choices that secure your future.”

  “But it’s my future Mama.”

  “It is. But you are my daughter. And even now your father and me know best. If now isn’t the time, if graduate school is what you want I’ll explain it to your father and grand-mère. We can post-pone the wedding. But don’t go making final decisions that you can’t change because you think you know best.”

  I’m tempted to go further. Really tell her the truth. But my mother isn’t the one in this family with power. Her little speech is nothing but another grand performance of hers. One to keep my father from his rage and me from rebellion.

  “Come back downstairs. Please honey. We’ll talk more about the future after the weekend. Let’s just enjoy your night. I’m so proud of you.”

  My mother kisses my brow. I smile for her. She smiles for me and turns and leaves. I turn toward the balcony and inhale her soft fragrance she’s left behind. I wipe my tears and look up at the stars above. This old plantation might as well be in one of those science museums where you can recline and see the galaxy. There are so many stars on this clear night. Above the trees the moon is bright and tinged in red. A blood moon. Oh the stories I can write about the myths and superstitions of people in the bayou on a moon-lit night like this one. I lean on the balcony and think of my future. Maybe Georgie is right. If I want my life to be different I have to make it so. I could possibly convince my dad and Xavier to let me go to New York and finish school. But there is nothing I could say other than I don’t when the preacher asks me to wake my father up to the truth.

  For no reason at all my head turns and I look toward the south of the plantation. Several roads go in and out of the land. And in the darkness there is a car parked on one of them. A yellow corvette. I stand upright not sure I see what I am indeed seeing. It’s Brick. And he sees me too. He’s waving at me while leaning on the car. Like some handsome hero out of an eighties movie.

  He came to my rescue.

  I turn and rush back downstairs. Before I can open the door my cousin Andria grabs my hand. “Hey! Dance with me.”

  “No, ah, I need to….”

  “Oh c’mon, one dance,” she giggles. She’s only thirteen. I try to protest but two of my brothers see me. The taller of the two, Mathew, grabs me and spins me around. He puts me over his shoulder and takes me onto the dance floor in the ballroom. I demand he release me but he can’t hear me over the laughter and applause. So I’m forced to indulge them all. He puts me down and I hit Mathew. He then spins me around the dance floor. The band is playing a slow grooving jazz song that reminds me of Brick. I want to go out there and find him. I saw him at the graduation. I told him where my event was. I didn’t think he would come. He did.

  The song ends and everyone applauds. I look to the band. The cello player is staring directly at me. It’s Domino. The big dark skinned man who plays music and cards with Brick. He winks at me and I blink unable to speak. My brother sees me staring.

  “Hey, Domino! Come meet my baby sister.”

  No. No. No please.

  Domino gets up and comes off the little platform stage. He walks right up to us.

  “Wsup!” Mathew gives Domino a friendly greeting with them handshaking. “Coco, this here is Domino. We went to school together. Domino this here is princess!”

  “Hey, you look familiar. Have we met before?” Domino asks.

  The words clog in my throat.

  “Hell no. Baby girl don’t hang in that nasty ass rat hole you play in,” Mathew chuckled.

  Domino’s smile spread enough to reveal the gold tooth to the side of his mouth. I feel light headed with fear. Mathew was like Nathan, all of them would go ballistic if they knew exactly how familiar I am with that rat hole.

  “Excuse me, I need to find Mama.”

  Mathew grabs me again and kisses my forehead. I shove him off and hurry away. I glance back twice to see Domino is watching. My heart is racing so bad.

  Like a vision out of 18th century Antebellum South she walks across the grass under the moon glow toward me. Her hair is dark and straight. The same way she wore it the first time we met. There’s a long swoop bang that she continues to toss out of her left eye. She’s wearing white. A dress that heaves her bosom, slims her waist and clings suggestively to her heart-shaped hips while swaying around her knees. And on her arms is a long sheer white dress-robe.

  I had my doubts about coming to see her. I drove around this damn plantation on all the side roads thinking of how best to find her. And from nowhere she appeared on the balcony of the second level. I watched her and another woman who was beautiful enough to be her mother. They embraced and then Coco saw me. It felt like destiny.

  “You’re here,” she says when she finally reaches me.

  I go in for the kiss. The flowers are crushed between us when she throws her arms around me and kisses me back. She laughs and I smile.

  “Congratulations,” I say and hand her the roses. “You did it. Schools over.”

  “Yep, I did it,” she nodded. She inhaled the roses. “They are so pretty. I love them.”

  She’s not wearing her high heels so she’s several inches shorter. Her flat ballerina slippers don’t seem fitting to walk across the grass. I’m not complaining. Coco has her own sense of style. Her makeup has transformed her from an ordinary gem to a priceless jewel. She has silky, Cleopatra eyelashes over her hazelnut shaped eyes that I can’t look away from.

  “What if I didn’t see you from the balcony?” she catches me with a quick glance up into my eyes. “How long have you been out here?”

  “Not long. I was trying to decide if I should take out a servant and put on his uniform to come find you.”

  “That would be gangster. Are you a gangster, Brick?” she teases.

  I chuckle. “I play one in my other life.”

  “Aha! I knew it.”

  Gangster is another nickname she’s given me. Ever since she found me bloody and beaten in my apartment.

  “No. I’m no gangster. Just a man.”

  “I’m glad you came.”

  I touch her hair. “You look beautiful, Coco. I’m really proud of you, bae-bee.”

  “Take me away from here, Brick. Please,” she says.

  “What about your party?” I ask. “Won’t they miss you?”

  “It’s not my party. It’s theirs. I want to be with someone who wants to be with me.”

  “Coco, your family did all this for you. I was sitting next to them. They are really proud of you, chérie.”

  She hugs me again. Her face to my chest, and her arms around my waist make me weak for her. This game we’re playing is wearing me down. I have every intention of taking her away from here, from them, but I have to do it at her pace. And it seems I’m winning. I glance around. There are servant quarters in the gardens. I’m not sure if they are occupied. But we can try them. I reach behind me and open my car door.

  “Let’s go,” I tell her.

  She gets inside my car smelling of sweet lavender perfume. I’m in my ride behind the wheel next and I’m putting distance between ‘us’ and ‘them’. Before I turn off from the property all together I see the cottages I saw when I arrived. It might be best not to take her to
o far.

  “Did you bring Marcel with you?” she asks.

  “No. Haven’t seen him since the graduation.”

  “Oh?”

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “No. He broke up with Georgie. I think it’s the real thing this time.”

  “Yeah, I heard,” I say.

  We drive slowly along the ghostly dark unpaved road under the low hanging gnarled branches of the oak trees. There is actually a road that one can take through the gardens. I choose it to circle to the back of the cottages to keep us unseen. My yellow corvette is hard to hide in the dark or in daylight.

  “How did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Georgie and Marcel? That they broke up.” I look over and she’s frowning up at me expecting an explanation.

  “Marcel told me that he couldn’t go through with it at the graduation. I was hoping he wouldn’t do it but he did.”

  “She’s so upset. It got me to thinking. About everything,” Coco sighs. Two of the cottages have lights on. There is one to the end that is totally dark. It’s worth a shot. I park on the side of it and turn off my lights and engine. I look over at Coco and she’s wiping her tears.

  “Don’t cry. They’ll work it out.”

  “It’s not that,” she says.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Me, Georgie. Us. We’re pathetic. Today is our graduation day from college and I feel like I’m graduating from high school. We both are miserable.” She looks at me. “I tried to tell my mother tonight that I don’t want to marry Xavier. She wouldn’t listen. I tried to tell Xavier months ago and he blew me off like I don’t have a choice. He only wants to be with me when he can parade me around his friends and family like some show pony. I’m bored to death with him. And my father, he doesn’t even see me. If I walk away from this wedding it’ll be the only thing I’ve done since boarding school that will get his attention. I’m going to lose my family. I know it.”

  I touch her hair and listen.

  “The worst part of it is I’m not sure what I want to do. I want to write, but write what? Books, TV, screenplays? What? And I want to move but to where? New York? Los Angeles? The moon? I don’t know.”

  “Stop putting so much pressure on yourself. It takes time to decide what you want.”

  “It really doesn’t Brick. The only way I’m going to know what I want is letting go of the things I don’t want. And when I do that I’m on my own.”

  “You got that gift right? That sight, to see the future.”

  She chuckles. “I’m not a witch, and I’m not psychic. It’s not like that.”

  “It’s a feeling?”

  “Yes,” she nods. “It’s a feeling.”

  “What do you feel right now, about us? About this? What does your gut tell you?”

  She is slow to look over to me but when she does I can see it on her face. She feels the way I do.

  “My gut tells me to let you go. That if I don’t, you’re going to get more trouble and drama than you bargained for. Me too. But my heart is different. My heart says to trust myself and go with my feelings. The bottomline Brick is there are consequences no matter what I decide to do.”

  “They’ll understand. They just need to see you the way I do.”

  She pauses and looks over at me.

  “Like my woman, a woman who is in control of her life, and what she wants.”

  She smiles. “Your woman? Huh?”

  “You think I play around with little girls?”

  She laughs. It’s a soft sweet laugh that keeps me smiling. I lean in and kiss her lips again. “It’s your night Coco. Let’s celebrate.”

  “Here? We can’t stay here?”

  “An hour or two and then you go back to the party? It’s your life. You decide how to live it.”

  “Or how to burn it to the ground.”

  “I like your fire,” I tell her. She understands my mission and a spark of devilment gleams in her eyes.

  She nods. “Can you get us inside?”

  ‘There isn’t a door made I can’t open.”

  “Make sure to check no one is in there first!” she yells after me. I’m already out of the car and headed toward the three steps before the door. I open the screen door and knock. No one answers. Coco gets out of the car and is waiting there. I try the knob. It turns in my hand. That does surprise me. I go inside and find it dark. I check every room, every closed door. No one is at home and there is no luggage. The place is open for us.

  Before I can go and find Coco, the light turns on. She’s inside with me.

  “Is it empty?” she asks.

  “For now. Turn off that light.”

  She does.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s my party and I’ll go where I want to.” She shrugs off her sheer robe and leaves it on the floor. “Now. It’s time for my present.”

  I chuckle. I walk over and sweep her up against me and spin her. I then carry her to the open door of the bedroom in my arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brick Bondurant has what I like to call daring eyes. Every time he looks at me I feel as if it’s a challenge. How far will you go, Coco, to prove you’re mine? How much more of yourself will you give to a guy you’ve told yourself isn’t an option? Can you take it? Prove it. We’re different. Not the cajun boy meets black girl kind of different. Not the age difference. No. It’s the who he is and who I will become differences that scare me. He reminds me of my brothers with a hint of that subtle silent strength of my father. That overpowering controlling way that men force submission without even asking for it. He’s born, the wolf, and I’m supposed to be the lamb. I can’t be the lamb anymore. I’m born the dove. I’m born to fly free. Or at least that’s what I’ve told myself every step of my rebellious track. Freedom equals happiness.

  But if that’s true. Then what is this? With him?

  Brick puts me on top of the bed. He can’t stop kissing me. He covers me fully clothed with his shoes on. And still I can feel all of him. The hard ridges of his abdomen and chest, the bulk of his erection, the muscles in his thighs and arms. His lips brush mine and unshaven face tickles me, so I part my mouth for another kiss and another, totally swept under his spell.

  Brick is all hands and lips. He’s either touching or tasting a part of my body. But he isn’t undressing me. I have to kick my slippers from my feet.

  “Do you want to fuck now, or let me explore what I like first?” he asks when he drags his mouth up to my ear. His voice rasps when he attempts to whisper and it turns my belly to jelly.

  “Make love, we make love, Brick.”

  “Yea right,” he groans. I can feel his cock twitch under his zipper as it rubs up and down over my sex. He bites my ear and unzips. He’s going to make love to me in my dress. It’s a designer original that we flew in from Los Angeles six months ago. The part of my mind that is still functioning hurries to drag the hem of the delicate garment to my waist so it won’t get soiled. And I do it just in time. He forces the seat of my panty aside and jabs me with the blunt head of his cock. I gasp and push at his shoulders to slow him down but Brick is overcome with his lust. He’s in me after a single thrust and he goes deep. All resistance is gone. My hands weaken and drop from his shoulders. Every inner muscle in my vagina constricts. He pushed his hips forward and then his ass lifts as he slowly pulls out. His pants are pushed down to the bottom of his buttocks and I grab one and squeeze. I’m panting under intense, unrelenting, pleasure. He thrusts in me and his long frame rocks against my body. With each push of his pelvis I greet him with an equal thrust of my own. I want him to tear me apart.

  My back arches front he bed but the weight of him forces me down. He’s right. He is fucking me now. He’s drilling me and sucking my neck with his teeth biting. I like it best when he hits it from the back. But right now his passion and mine makes this the best sex of my life. His hands grip my hips tightly and he pounds into me. The loud, wet, smacking noise of his slippery in and o
ut entry rings louder than the headboard smacking up against the wall.

  I’m slipping, not climaxing, just weakening, drained of everything in me. He’s like a beast ravishing, licking my sweat, devouring my essence. I could love him, and this connection we share forever. I think I might. I just can’t see past any future other than the one ruled by my emotions. And then he climaxes with no thought to my own pursuit of happiness. I’m crushed with disappointment. There is so much more to our love making when he doesn’t feel like he has to rush to win my prize.

  Brick kisses the side of my face. He pulls out of me and flips over to his back panting. I touch my sex and feel the sticky essence of him seeping out.

  I lie there with him staring at the ceiling.

  “Why are men selfish?” I ask.

  “We’re made that way,” he replies.

  I look over to him. “You’re mad at me. And you fucked me without my permission.”

  “I did not,” he frowned.

  “You’re mad at me because I still won’t tell my family about us. So this is the way you show it.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “I can feel it. You tell me why you’re mad then. Why? Because I know you are.”

  He sighs. He sits up and turns away from me. I can see his back not his face. “Either way I’m going to lose you, aren’t I?”

  “Lose me?”

  “You’re going to marry him or leave him. Either way you’re leaving me, aren’t you?” He glances back at me. It’s as if for the first time he has the sight. And he sees me, us, our future—or lack thereof.

  “I’m as much yours Brick as you are mine. You think I don’t know what you and Marcel are planning for Paris? Georgie can’t shut up about it. A year in Paris? When were you going to tell me about that?”

  “Come with me,” he says. I’m a little shocked. He’s showing more need and desire for me in that statement than he’s ever given me in sex. And trust me, he’s shown me plenty in sex.

  “I… can’t.”

  “You want to be a writer. But you’re already a poet. The best writers see the world, not hide from it. There’s nothing in New York or L.A. that you can’t find in Paris. Think about it.”