Chapter and Verse

by Jo Willow

  Hamm’s chair was back-to-back, but at an angle to Deacon’s. There was enough room to walk between them, that’s how the servers were able to get around, but not so much room that we couldn’t hear what each other was saying if we really wanted to. Since Hamm didn’t know Deacon, he could have cared less. Deacon now not only knew who Hamm was, he knew what he looked like. Hamm was no slouch. He was easily as tall as Deke and had filled out nicely since college. If I were free and meeting him for the first time tonight, well, let’s just say I might just make the same mistake twice. But I wasn’t and I knew Hamm too well. Unfortunately, I’d shared that story with Deacon and every so often, he’d shoot me a knowing smile. The asshat. To make things worse, Miranda would occasionally drop her head to Deacon’s shoulder and he’d smile. He knew what she was doing and he allowed it. After everything I’d told him about her; the awful things she’d said to me, he allowed it and he smiled.

  This is what I’m talking about. This intentional pain he inflicts on a whim, just to prove a point. If I wasn’t ready or willing to let him take complete control over me, then there were plenty of women who were. And he was happy to demonstrate that fact, with the one woman he knew would hurt me the most. Yet he had the balls to tell me over and over again that I was “his”. We were an “us”. That it was “inevitable”. Inevitable? What looked inevitable to me was, he would continue to cause me pain for the rest of my life if I let him.

  I couldn’t eat. I managed a dinner roll to soak up the alcohol I planned on consuming. I wouldn’t get too drunk, I didn’t want Hamm to find me vulnerable. I also didn’t want to embarrass my father in any way.

  Two glasses of champagne in, the music started and Hamm looked my way. He appeared hopeful yet cautious and I decided to act on the hopeful. Screw the Lone Wolf and the bitch he rode in on.

  I placed my hand on Hamm’s and smiled. That’s all he needed.

  “Dor’, will you dance with me?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask. Let’s go.”

  He stood and pulled my chair out, then extended his arm. I took it and winked and felt the heat radiating from the next table. Somebody was making scowly faces and it wasn’t Miranda.

  Hamm may be a cad, but he can dance. He had me gliding across the dance floor in no time and while we danced, we recanted good times we’d had together in college. There was a reason we’d dated two years and I’d forgotten some of the fun we’d had when we were younger.

  We were three dances in and giggling like eight year olds, when it finally hit the fan. I heard the growl before I felt his presence. Hamm was either oblivious to the danger he was in, or he’d decided I was worth fighting for. That is almost as hilarious as it sounds. Hamm never fought for me a day in his life.

  I felt the heat near my back and I started to tremble. Hamm must have felt it because he looked over my shoulder and I saw his eyes go wide. Deacon put his hand on my shoulder and the dancing stopped. I kept whispering to myself, “Please don’t cause a scene, please don’t cause a scene, please don’t....” like a mantra, but I knew better. The press were here and they could smell trouble like a hound on a hot dog. I knew this would be a page three photograph come tomorrow if things got out of hand.

  Deacon gently but firmly, pulled me out of Hamm’s arms and Hamm looked like the playground bully just took his ice cream.

  “Excuse me, but she’s my date. If you’d like a dance, you can ask the lady nicely.”

  Leave it to Hamm to paint a happy face on a turd.

  Leave it to Deacon to make him eat it.

  “I’m not asking the lady anything. She’s mine.”

  All that was missing was the jungle vines and the chest thumping. I was mortified. What made it worse, was that Hamm couldn’t take a hint.

  “Sir, we’re at a formal gathering of some very influential people. I would think you could remember your manners.”

  Oh yeah. Like THAT was gonna work. You need to remember that this whole time, we were standing on a dance floor in the middle of a ballroom, with people waltzing around us trying to act like they weren’t listening. What was I doing? The only thing I could think of. I was swaying to the music as if everyone would think this was some new three-way dance move they’d never heard of.

  Deacon put his arm around me as if possession was nine-tenths of the law and attempted to make his position clearer for poor Hamm the Clueless.

  “Henry, you’re starting to make me angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

  Oh great. Now he was the Hulking Asshat. This was getting out of hand and I was just about to take a stand when Hamm beat me to the punch. And oh what a punch it was.

  “Look, I don’t know who you are, as we’ve not been formally introduced. But do you make it a habit of abandoning your date when you find another more suitable to your liking?”

  Hamm slammed both of us with one well turned phrase and didn’t even realize it. How does the saying go? The truth hurts?

  Deacon stiffened and I jerked out of his grasp. To my credit, I didn’t immediately throw myself into Hamm’s. I took a step back and looked at both of them, but I kept my voice low.

  “As a matter of fact Hamm, he does. He also makes a habit of hurting people to prove a point.”

  At that moment, I caught a flash of red and saw the look of devastation on Miranda’s face. I had no clue that she was standing a few feet away, watching everything. Never in my life did I ever think I’d come to her defense for anything.

  Deacon saw where I was looking and turned to glance in that direction. He saw her expression as well and then turned back to face me.

  “Dorothy, I didn’t mean to hurt you...”

  I leaned in closer to answer.

  “Like fuck you didn’t. That’s exactly what you meant to do. You knew what this would mean to me, we talked about it. Don’t play innocent now Deacon, it doesn’t suit you. Tell me one thing though. Did you bother to tell her that she was just a prop to make a point?”

  His wall went up and I had my answer.

  “Did I? Prove a point?”

  I looked at floor for a second, gathering my control, but I could hide the tears that were threatening to betray me when I looked back at him.

  “Oh you proved a point alright Mr. Sloan. The thing is, you proved mine. Not yours. I might have belonged to you, but you never belonged to me. In my book, that’s not a couple, that’s a divorce statistic. You owe Miranda an apology. Good luck with that.”

  I turned away from his wide, unbelieving eyes, and turned to my date.

  “Hamm, I’ve got one hell of a headache. Would you take me home please?”

  Ever the gentleman, he offered his arm which I gratefully accepted.

  “Yes of course Dorothy, let’s go.”

  He escorted me off the dance floor and out into the lobby. I never looked back and Deacon never followed.

  Hamm was everything I needed on the way home. He asked no questions and offered no sympathetic words. He was there, he could figure out what was going on. By the time we got back to my apartment building, he escorted me to the elevator and offered to walk me to my door, but I declined.

  Before he gave me a chaste kiss goodnight, he put his arms around me and pulled me close. I didn’t fight him because to be honest, I needed validation and comfort.

  “Dorothy, if you ever need the company of someone that knows you and appreciates you, please call. I know I’m not him, but I am someone that cares a great deal about you. Okay?”

  I nodded because if I’d opened my mouth, the tears would start and I wanted to be alone when that happened.

  I stepped inside the elevator and gave the best smile I could give. He smiled back, the doors closed, and he was gone. I managed to keep it together until I entered my apartment, but that was it.

  I could not get comfortable. I’d traded my dress for a pair of flannel pajama pants and an over-sized t-shirt with some disney character on the front. I sat on the sofa with a carton of cookie dough ice cream a
nd flipped on the weather channel. All of the lights were off and it was closing in on midnight. I should be sleeping but that wasn’t going to happen. I could have been working, but I had nothing to work on until Deacon gave the okay on the book.

  Deacon. It always came back to Deacon. I could see my future laid out before me like an endless road through the desert at high noon. Either he’d finally give up and walk away, I’d give in and become Mrs. Sloan the possession, or I’d finally give in to the urge to beat him to death with something heavy yet disposable. The odds were fifty-fifty between the first one and the last one.

  Then it hit me. I had an idea. Granted, in hindsight it wasn’t my best idea, but it was mine and I’d own it. I had a passkey to his penthouse. All I had to do was insert it into the card slot in the elevator, and the doors would open into his place. He’d given it to me a month ago in a moment of weakness, when we were eating regular dinners together. I’d tossed it into a drawer, never thinking I’d use it. Now I was rethinking that idea. Why not? We needed this decided one way or another and I did not want to spend another few weeks like the last few. If he was serious, then it was time to fight like a normal couple and put this behind us.

  I didn’t even bother with shoes. I rifled through my junk drawer until I found the plastic card and left before I lost my nerve. This was not me. I was completely out of my element and had no idea how he’d react. It was time that I took my life in my own hands and quit allowing him to make the first move. If this was real, then it was time for it to get overtly real. I was done being a passive observer.

  The elevator opened into his foyer. The only light that was on, was the small reading light next to his armchair. The place was chilly and quiet, almost like a tomb. The analogy did not escape me.

  I moved quietly through his living space, hesitating at doorways, listening for sounds. I’d never seen his bedroom and he’d never seen mine. There was no reason. Adrenaline pulsed through my system making me jittery and hyperalert. I peeked in every room in the place except one, and I was closing in on that one.

  The minute I looked inside, I knew it was his. It smelled like him. The room was illuminated by a light left on in the adjoining bathroom. The bed was made and I could see that the headboard was large and ornately carved, but I couldn’t make out the pattern. I smiled at the handmade quilt on the bed because it made me think of the bedroom at his parent’s house. The dresser was cluttered with his personal things, and his closet door was open. This was where Deacon slept.

  Okay, it’s not like I was the first woman to grace Deacon Sloan’s bedroom and I might not be the last. But it was the first time for me, and he was nowhere around. I had no urge to snoop, but I did want to absorb it for a minute. It felt good to be here. It felt right for some reason.

  I made my way into the bathroom and took it all in. He had one of those fancy showers with shower heads everywhere and a large soaking tub, like mine. The counter had two sinks, and his toiletries were right there where I could touch them. I spotted a bottle of cologne and I couldn’t resist. I opened it and took a deep breath. I couldn’t help but smile because it was him. The smell of fresh rain and something I couldn’t put my finger on, but it almost smelled like the ocean.

  I felt myself relaxing and as I did, I realized that I was bone tired. The night’s events, combined with the breaking and entering, had done me in. It was close to midnight and he wasn’t home yet. At least one of us was having a good time. He was probably at Miranda’s. Hell, he might even spend the night there. Who knew? I’ll tell you what I did know. I knew that the best I’d felt all night, was when I sniffed his cologne two minutes ago. And what did that say about me?

  I went back into his bedroom and sat down on his bed. I was close to admitting I was a lost cause, but that would mean admitting defeat. That wasn’t me either. This whole night so far had been filled with shit that “wasn’t me”.

  I took a deep breath and smelled him again. I looked to my left, and there was his pillow. That had to be it. I leaned over, and sure enough, there it was. It smelled of sleep, softness, and Deacon. I couldn’t resist. “Just for a minute or two” I told myself, “Just in case he dumps me tomorrow”.

  I laid down and breathed deeply, taking in all of him that I could. If I could forget all of the bad parts, this alone would make it worth belonging to Deacon. Yes that sounds sad, even to me. But I’d never loved, and I mean really loved, anyone the way that I loved Deacon. Even though he hurt me every chance he got and treated me like a given, in my heart I knew that he was acting the way he was because he’d never been in love either. And folks, I am not an easy woman to love. I know myself well enough to know that much.

  I snuggled deeper into the pillow, then found myself wiggling under the blankets because of the chill. The last waking thought I had, was of Anton. I thought to myself, “Technically, I’m not sleeping with Deacon because he’s not here”. Then I was out like a light.

  The last decent sleep I’d had was the weekend before at the farm. I’d been a nervous wreck since Monday, and I’d kept myself busy which had always been my coping mechanism. The problem was, I was a light sleeper as well. I can’t even keep a ticking clock in my room because the sound will keep me awake.

  That would explain why I sat up as if I were being attacked when I heard voices. My eyes flew around the room, trying to get some idea of where I was. I’d slept so hard I was disoriented. By the time I remembered what had happened, it was too late to escape. The voices were getting closer and I recognized one of them as Deacon’s. The other was female. Oh this was beyond bad. I could only do one thing, and that was hide.

  I leapt from the bed and raced into his closet. Damn he had a big closet. Why wasn’t my closet this big? And were those shoe racks? I didn’t have shoe racks... and that just goes to show how crazy you can be in the dark, when you wake up in your pseudo boyfriend’s apartment, and he comes home unexpectedly with another woman.

  I burrowed as far back as I could, hiding behind a few winter coats and a long trenchcoat. If he didn’t see my feet, I’d be home free. I didn’t have to worry. They stopped in the bedroom and someone turned on the light before the conversation resumed.

  “Miranda, why the fuck are you here?”

  Ooh, an argument. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but since I was here...

  “You’re drunk on your ass you ignorant bastard. I wanted to make sure you got home alright!”

  Miranda. Gee. What a surprise.

  “Mission accomplished. So why the fuck are you STILL here?”

  “Deacon, why are you being so cruel? It’s not MY fault she left, it’s yours! I thought you were being sincere when you told me you wanted me to go with you tonight. Had I known you were using me...”

  “Oh please. Have I ever, at any time in our association, given you the impression that I was romantically interested in you?”

  “Well not in so many words, but you let me straighten your ties and touch you. I assumed you enjoyed the contact as much as I did. You never said anything to stop me, and then you invited me on a date tonight. What was I supposed to think?”

  She made a good point. I’d warned him about that shit, but did he listen? No. And here he was, backed into a corner. In his bedroom. That skank was in Deacon’s bedroom! Why did she feel comfortable enough to follow him into his bedroom?

  “You were supposed to think that I was being tolerant because I never returned your advances. I asked you to accompany me tonight, because my girlfriend was forced to go with the presenter of the award. He happened to be her ex and I got a little crazy. Believe me Miranda, I tried three other women, but it was late notice and they couldn’t attend. You were my last call.”

  I sat down hard and thought about what he’d just said. He didn’t invite her to hurt me, he invited her because he couldn’t find anyone else to go with him. And he called me his girlfriend. I was Deacon Sloan’s girlfriend. This is the part in the movie where the cartoon cupids would be circling my head.<
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  Except it wasn’t. This is the part in the movie where Deacon looked over and realized his bed was wrinkled as if someone had slept in it. Of course I didn’t know this, but that’s what was going on. Miranda didn’t notice though, she was still trying to convince him that she was the better choice.

  “Deacon, why won’t you open your eyes and realize how good we are together? How good we could BE together? We have more in common than you’ll ever have with her and I’ve known you forever. I know what you need. Can you imagine the team we’d make if we paired up in every way? We’d be unstoppable!”

  “Get your hands off of me you delusional cow! I’m already unstoppable. Why the hell do I need you for that? You don’t know anything about Dorothy or my relationship with Dorothy!”

  Her comeback was acidic and gave Deacon a glimpse of the Miranda I knew and (cough) loved.

  “I know she thinks you’re just friends, she told me so herself.”

  Deacon’s voice lowered in pitch and I knew trouble was coming.

  “You told her I’d break her heart didn’t you?”

  “And you DID. Didn’t you?”

  “Get the fuck out of my house and don’t bother coming to work on Monday. You’re fired!”

  “Fired?! On what grounds?”

  “Meddling in my personal life and conduct unbecoming of a business associate. Now you’ve got two minutes to remove yourself, or I’m calling security and I’ll have your ass removed.”

  “But Deacon...”

  “The clock’s ticking Miranda. Wanna test me?”

  I heard heels on his floor and then nothing. I wondered if he’d walked her out to make sure she left. The idea was just taking hold as a realistic possibility, when I heard him sigh.