by Jo Willow
Deacon followed me home and we bluetoothed the whole way home. We talked about our weekend and the week to come. We told each other embarrassing secrets and made each other laugh. It felt like being teenagers in love and I liked it. I’d never had that before and it felt good being wanted for who I was, instead of what the association with me could offer.
We pulled into the parking garage side by side and walked in holding hands. The place felt deserted because it was Monday and everyone was at work. Well, almost everyone. Some people keep their own schedules. People like fashion designers.
We stumbled into my apartment. I say “stumbled”, because Deacon was kissing me as if his very life depended on it and Melody opened the door as I was fumbling in my purse for the keys. He was pushing my back against the door, when all three of us almost hit the floor. Deacon regained his balance first and pulled me into his chest. Melody took three ungraceful steps back.
“Well what do we have here? Where have the two of you been, hmm?”
The sarcasm in her voice begged to be answered in kind. We walked in nonplussed and I tossed my purse on the entryway table.
“Gee Mom, I didn’t know I had to check in. I promise, no boys in my room...for now.”
I glanced at Deacon who had a wicked gleam in his eyes. Melody’s flashed a scowl. I decided to go with Deacon and I grinned back. Damn he was cute when his mind went dirty.
I’d almost forgotten about Melody when she chirped up and broke my concentration.
“I’m glad you’re back, we don’t have a lot of time.”
She was pulling me into the living room and Deacon was following along as if he wouldn’t miss this for the world. He didn’t know my sister like I did. Something was up.
“A lot of time for what? I just got home Mel’, lighten up.”
“No time. We’ve got to get your dress lined out for Saturday night. The charity awards dinner, remember? We’ll be rushed as it is. I’ve got the style and the fabric, but you’ve lost a lot of weight and your shape has changed. I’ve got to get your measurements to the seamstress so we can get your dress fitted and ready.”
“Oh shit I forgot. Can’t you go instead?”
I could hear myself whining but I didn’t care. I wasn’t in the mood to be my sister’s Barbie doll right now. I wanted to kiss Deacon some more. Don’t laugh, I had it bad and I was finally okay with that.
“No, I have a fashion show Saturday night in Boston, you knew this when you agreed to accept. Now, the dress is bronze satin and it should go well with your hair, I’m thinking. I’ve already told Hamm so he knows how to accessorize to match.”
Hold on Versace, Hamm? When did he come into the picture? I braved a quick glance at Deacon and his jaw was tight. He was wondering the same thing. I couldn’t let this go.
“Hamm? I haven’t seen him in ages. What’s he got to do with this?”
“His mother is on the board that oversees the charity. You didn’t know this? Anyway, his folks are going to some work thing his father is hosting. Hamm’s presenting the award in their place and he’s taking you to the event.”
I put my hands on my hips and screwed my face up.
“Since when?”
She mirrored my stance and had the nerve to look as if SHE were the one that was put out.
“Since two days ago. If you’d bothered to check in or check your damned voice mail, you’d have known this already. It’s too late to make alternate arrangements so you’ll have to make the best of it.”
I saw her eyes go to Deacon and she swallowed hard. I knew then that I didn’t want to see the look on his face. I’ve seen that look. I’ve been the recipient of that look. I was hoping it wasn’t aimed at me.
I’d just begun to figure a way out of this mess when he spoke up.
“She’s not going anywhere with Hamm.”
Say what? Did Deacon-on-the-mount just issue a proclamation as if it were law? I don’t care what he and I were in the middle of, nobody - and I mean nobody - told me what I could and could not do. Not my folks, not Melody and not Deacon-the-asshat-Sloan. Now I was pissed. Forget that I didn’t want to go anywhere with Hamm to begin with, there was a principle involved here. One that I needed to make perfectly clear.
I turned to Deacon and saw Melody slide into a corner like a frightened puppy. She knew what was coming, she’d known me my whole life.
“Did you just say that I wasn’t going anywhere with Hamm? Tell me you did not just say that.”
Let me interject something here. Some men are good at knowing when to shut up and let things calm down. I have a theory on this. I believe that they get the trait from their mother’s side of the family. Women intuitively know when shit’s about to hit the fan. Some are smart enough to chill, and some let their tempers flair. I think that smart men inherit the “chill” trait from their moms. Deacon obviously decided to skip that genetic link in vitro.
His jaw tightened up even more and I was wondering how he didn’t break his teeth.
“You're damned right I said that. You’re mine Dorothy and I don’t share. I don’t care how innocent it is, we’re a couple now and the world is about to find that out. How can we come out if you’re seen the week before with another man? This event will make the papers for sure and your picture will be taken together. I don’t take another man’s cast-offs.”
I knew there was a reason I didn’t keep paperweights or other heavy knick-knacks sitting around. I counted to ten, but it didn’t help. It never did.
“A cast-off? That’s how you see me? It’s a charity event! It’s nothing! He’s presenting and I’m receiving. End of! What is the matter with you?!”
He crossed his arms and I knew that he was closing me out. He’d made up his mind and his tongue was about to get the better of him. As fragile and new as we were, I hoped he’d think about what he was going to say next. He didn’t disappoint.
“It’s what he’s presenting and what you’ll be receiving that has me concerned. You have history with him Dorothy and I won’t allow it. End of discussion.”
“Oh you’re fucking right it’s the end of discussion.”
I was fuming as I marched to the front door and threw it open.
“Out.”
He uncrossed his arms and looked dumbfounded.
“You’re throwing me out?”
“What? Is ‘out’ not clear enough for you? I said, get out. I don’t know who’s lord and master you were before I came into the picture, but you need to understand a thing or two Mr. Man. Nobody tells me who I can or cannot see, and if you can’t trust me for three hours at a charity event in front of half this city, then our problems are deeper than my worrying you’ll dump me. Get out.”
He walked closer, but his anger remained visible in his posture. He was going, but he wasn’t backing down.
“Dorothy, so help me, if you go to this thing with him, you’ll regret it.”
“Threats Deacon? Who the hell knew you had a charming side. Go. Now.”
I slammed the door on his retreating form and turned to my sister who was cowering in the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible.
“You. Front and center.”
She moved slowly until she was standing in front of me.
“You couldn’t tell me this after he left? What in the hell is the matter with you? Mel’, we were just starting to get our shit together. We had a chance and now we’re back to square one. Talk to me.”
Her eyes raced around the room, mapping all the escape routes. Then she looked at me and knew she wasn’t going anywhere.
“I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I swear. This thing is coming up so quickly and we were talking about your dress and I just happened to remember that Hamm was accessorizing his pocket point to your dress and I blurted it out. I’m talking too fast aren’t I?”
“Nope. I’m keeping up, continue.”
She was wringing her hands and I couldn’t help it. I was glad that she was uncomfortable. She was
the first obstacle we’d encountered and Deacon had folded like a paper airplane. I was disheartened, disillusioned, and mad.
She babbled on but I was no longer listening. I wasn’t mad at her. Not really. She hadn’t said anything wrong, she was imparting information. Deacon was the one that decided to enforce rules we’d never discussed. How could I agree to be exclusive with him when I had no clue how all-encompassing that would be? I didn’t have a copy of his playbook and he never talked about his expectations. This was on us, not her.
I put my hand on her shoulder and she quit talking.
“Mel’, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I don’t know what to do here, I’m on shaky ground. I never figured Deacon as the jealous type or how deep that jealousy could go. I mean come on, Hamm? Really? He’s nothing to me and Deke knows that.”
She was shaking her head before she plopped down on the sofa, deflated.
“Dorothy, he’s right. If you two are going public, being photographed with Hamm as your date might not be wise. Deacon isn’t a nobody Sis’, people know him. They respect him and his reputation. If he’s photographed with you next week as, ‘the love of his life’, how will he look? Can you imagine the headlines? ‘Millionaire Playboy Gets Played’. You need to see this from his side.”
“Who’s side are you on?”
“Yours. Always yours. But you need to open your eyes girl. You haven’t had to compromise since Hamm and you’re out of practice. Relationships are all about compromise. How would you feel if the tables were turned, huh? What if you’d walked in and Anton was the one telling Deacon that he had to accept an award and Miranda was his date for the evening? How would THAT go over?”
Oh my. That put a new frame on the picture. After the weekend we just shared? Miranda with her hands on my Deacon? I’d rip her lips off and I was NOT the jealous type. But it was different with Deacon. I had a feeling that any woman with her hands on him would elicit the same reaction. What was I becoming and when did that happen? Was this a component of the “love” thing? And if it was, would I survive it? Could I ever trust him enough to not wonder about what he was up to when we weren’t together? I knew about his women, hell, I’d been jilted for one. Deacon had never hidden that from me and I walked into this with my eyes wide open. It was the trust thing. The one thing I couldn’t give him without reservation. This sucked.
Melody was openly watching me go through something she didn’t understand and it was disturbing her, I could tell. Now I wanted to go back twenty minutes and take it all back. I wanted to put my foot down and tell her that I wouldn’t be going anywhere with anyone unless it was Deacon. I wanted to do that for him, but it was too late. The story of my life in one little soundbite.
“Dorothy? What are you gonna do?”
The sixty-four dollar question with only one correct answer. The damage was done and there was nowhere to go but forward. I’d given my word to my parents. I couldn’t back out now.
“I’m gonna let you measure me for my dress and think about a hairstyle. Once I get that lined out, I’m going to the Liquor Mart and buy a bottle of Tequila. Then me and Jose Cuervo are going to spend the night together. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes, but I’ll reserve judgement. Want me to call and talk to Deacon for you?”
“Nope. He lives upstairs Mel’. If he wants me, he knows where to find me.”
“Think that’s a wise attitude to have at the moment?”
I took a deep breath and released it.
“Probably not, but it’s the only one I’ve got. Let’s do this dress thing, I’m losing the will to live.”
I didn’t hear from Deacon the rest of the week. I had a feeling it would go that way, but it still hurt. He had to know that this was exactly what I was afraid of. The first time we had a difference of opinion and asserted myself, he ran. He was proving MY point, not his.
I stayed busy with the coming event and I thanked the stars above that I had something to keep my mind and my time occupied. If I sat still too long, I had a repeat of the week I’d had before I’d gone to the farm. I could not allow myself to go through that again. I promised myself I wouldn’t revisit that dark hole and I intended to keep that promise.
When Saturday afternoon arrived, so did my dress and Melody was right. It was stunning. The bronze satin shimmered in the light and it felt as light as a feather. That was a plus in my book. Heavy fabric would reflect my mood and I intended to make the most of this evening. Hamm was nothing but an old friend now and we had lots to catch up on. Once again, I planned to stay busy.
I shimmied into the dress and before I even looked at myself, I felt self-conscious. The thing fit like skin. Is was strapless with a built in bustier that pushed my girls up into the ozone. It didn’t look vulgar, just different. The dress hugged my curves until just above my knees, where it flared out in a bronze ruffle that edged the dress all the way around the hem. The split up the front would make it easier to walk, but I’d flash a bit of leg as I did it. I felt like Carmen Miranda and I laughed at the visual.
I stood in front of the mirror and studied myself, looking for flaws or a reason not to wear it. There were none. The dress looked like it was made for me and it was. No one else would have one like it and that was the handiest thing about having a designer at your disposal. It even flattered my behind, and that alone, made it worth wearing.
I finished my makeup, then french braided my hair. I placed three tiny bronze butterfly combs in strategic places in the braid and I was ready. I looked sophisticated and hot. Yes, I’ll admit that I looked hot. When I stood and slipped into my heels, I rivaled my mother and sister. I’d do my parents proud tonight and I was ready for it.
Hamm was nothing if not punctual. He arrived at my building and the doorman buzzed to let me know. I decided to meet him in the lobby instead of allowing him into my space. Hamm didn’t need to know anything more about my living arrangements.
The look on his face when I walked out of the elevator gave me all the confidence I needed. When I took his arm he was beaming as he leaned over and whispered.
“Holy shit Dor’. I hit the jackpot tonight. You’re a vision and I’m one lucky man.”
I patted his arm and leaned into his side momentarily.
“Yes Hamilton, you most certainly are.”
He threw his head back and laughed before assisting me into the back of the limo.
These formal affairs aren’t nearly as much fun as you think they are. The room is always either too hot or too cold, the music is usually boring, and the chit chat is either charity or business related, or someone’s talking about Chip this or Muffy that and they’re never people you give two figs about. Snobs are snobs and it’s universal. Give me a bonfire on the beach with solo cups and hot dogs anyday.
Yet here I stood at Hamm’s side, trying to look interested and invested while being passed around like a bong at a frat party. Everyone congratulated me for my father’s brilliance and I wholeheartedly agreed about two hundred times. He was my father. I’d written his biography. I knew how brilliant he was. Just once I wanted to hear about something he did that was off-color or out of character. Now THAT I would have been interested in. But no.
Finally, dinner was served and it was time for the awards ceremony. Hamm and I made our way backstage to the sound of napkins being tucked and tableware clanging. Hamm looked cooler than a frozen margarita, while I was hoping no one noticed my hands were sweating. Being on public display was NOT my thing.
The charity’s organizer introduced us and we walked out together with smiles on our faces. Everyone took their feet and applauded and I almost curtsied out of reflex before I stopped myself. I wasn’t singing an aria, I was accepting a mounted crystal vase with my father’s name engraved on the pedestal. It was lovely and I knew my mother would love it.
Hamm said something that was funny and I’d tuned completely out until everyone started laughing. Then I heard his next line at the same time I felt eyes glued
to me.
I found Deacon’s smoldering gaze at the same time as Hamm said:
“Most people don’t know this, but this beautiful woman beside me turned down my marriage proposal many years ago. Little did she know that we’d be together once again this evening.”
He winked at the audience who tittered with laughter, before he took his life into his own hands.
“Who knows my friends. Maybe this is fate.”
I’d never seen anyone actually lose it before. I did the blinking thing and then noticed that the person sitting beside Deacon, was none other than Miranda. He saw my expression and then he did the unthinkable. He rested his arm behind her on her chair as if displaying her for my enjoyment.
Alrighty then, game on.
I turned a megawatt smile on Hamm and kissed him on the cheek (oh yes I did) and said loud enough for the microphone to pick up, “Hamm, you never know.”
The room erupted in applause and Hamm’s eyes went to the girls. How predictable. They were begging for a peek, but I wanted Deacon to be interested in what the dress did for my cleavage. Not Hamm. I guess beggars can’t be choosers.
Hamm began extolling my father’s virtues and I was impressed. He didn’t need notes and he sounded as if he genuinely admired the man. Since I was a charter member of my father’s fan club, the accolades warmed my heart and tickled a soft spot that I might still have had for Hamm.
He handed me the vase, I gratefully accepted on my father’s behalf, and Hamm kissed me on the cheek. We got a standing ovation and for a second I felt like the Prom Queen. We judiciously made our way back stage and down the stairs to the table we were assigned. The table that happened to be adjacent to Deacon and Miranda’s. This is my life folks. I couldn’t make this shit up.