Mrs. Hawthorne.
“Hello, Aria.”
“Mrs. Hawthorne. I had no idea you were here.” My eyes swept over the small room with one sink and a toilet in the corner. “I’ll step outside to give you some privacy.” I turned to open the door and leave.
“Aria, please wait. I wish to speak with you.” Her rich voice halted my progress.
I took a deep breath and prepared for the assault. I knew she wasn’t going to be happy with me helping Alex discover he owned that building. Seeing how she responded to something so insignificant like a mural on a wall, I can only imagine how she reacted when she found out that Alex owned the building.
“Look, Mrs. Hawthorne, I felt that Alex needed to know that he owned that building. If the lawyers were lying to you, then you should be outraged at them, not me.” I turned and held up my hands in peace.
Twisting the lipstick case and replacing the cap, she dropped it into her black leather purse before turning toward me. “You are so right, Aria. I am shocked that my family’s lawyer, a person who has worked for us since Alexander was a child, could lie to us. I’m here to thank you.”
Alex has said many times that his mother was controlling and cold, but she has yet to treat me like that. Sure, she overreacted about the mural and got on my nerves with how picky she was, but she has taste. Any person with an eye for art should know what they want.
“Thank you. I have to say it’s a relief to hear you say that. I thought you were here to tell me off.” I laughed as I placed my hand on my chest.
Mrs. Hawthorne took her purse off the counter and walked to me. “I know what Alex says about me . . . and some of it is true. But you have to understand that, as a single mother, I am protective of my son. Maybe I shielded him too much. Having as much money as we do you don’t understand the amount of people who would say or do anything to get at that money.”
“I guess that makes sense. Trust me, Mrs. Hawthorne, I have seen how money can hurt people, especially the people you love. I would never do that to your son.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “I know, Aria, that’s why I am coming to you with my problem. Something I haven’t told anyone. The way you helped Alexander with discovering the truth about his inheritance; you have proven that you care for his well-being.”
I nodded.
She stepped closer. Lifting her hand, she hesitated a moment before clasping my hand and holding it in hers. “My son, he isn’t like the average man you would meet. This may be odd coming from his mother, but I love him too much to let him go through life alone.”
Was this why Alexander avoided any talk about us sexually? I thought he was a snob but maybe it’s much more than that.
“It’s my fault, really. I shielded him from the world, protected him from people that would hurt him, but it also stopped him from understanding how to be, socially, with a woman. Please, tell me that what I say to you won’t leave this room.” Her eyes widened in what I could only assume was worry.
“Of course, Mrs. Hawthorne. I would never hurt your son, I told you that,” I said and gave a small smile to reassure her.
“My son has never been with a woman before. Sexually.”
I could tell when every muscle in my face registered what she had said. They loosened and slacked in shock, one by one.
“But, I don’t understand. You’re his mother. I am sure he’s not going to tell you who he has been intimate with.”
Alex can’t be a virgin. He’s gorgeous, rich, and seemed like a nice, if not somewhat naïve, guy. He may not have a lot of experience but I was sure at some gala or party he’s attended some women threw themselves at him.
“I know he doesn’t tell me everything, but I do have my sources. That’s why I am coming to you.”
My eyes widened as I shook my head backing out of her grasp. “Oh, no. Look, Mrs. Hawthorne, as I said to Alex yesterday, I will not be paid to be his friend. I will also not spy on your son.”
My father may have easily been bribed but that gene wasn’t passed on to me.
She laughed and waved her hand in the air. “Oh no, Aria, you misunderstood me. I would never ask that of you. You are better than that, I can tell.”
That was a relief. For a second there I wondered if Mrs. Hawthorne was the monster Alex painted her out to be.
“Aria, I know Alex cares for you so I think you would be the perfect person to take his virginity.”
TWELVE
Alexander
18 Years Ago, December 25th
I smiled.
Excited at all the gold wrapped presents stacked under the tree. But I did as my mother commanded and sat still on the couch.
We were waiting for my father. He arrived home last night while I was asleep. I wonder if he saw Santa. I covered my mouth with my hands to stop a gasp.
I bet he did. This was going to be the best Christmas ever. I couldn’t wait to tell my best friend, Bradley, who lived on the twelfth floor of my building. He’s going to be jealous at how cool my dad was compared to his dad.
Bradley was a year older than me and my cousin. He was always bragging about how his father took him places. One time he took him on a trip to Washington, DC to the Air and Space Museum to see all the spaceships. My dad doesn’t take me anywhere . . . I really only see him once a month and for a few days at Christmas.
But, meeting Santa, that’s bigger than any spaceship or trip.
“Alexander, what do you want more than anything this Christmas?” My mother smiled at me as she sipped her morning tea.
I love my mom. She was pretty. Her long black hair was shiny, and she smelled like flowers. I liked it when she wore earrings. After my bath, I would always ask her to put on her red dangly earrings before she put me to bed. I wanted to fall asleep knowing I had the most beautiful mom in the world.
She gave the best hugs, and she let me stay up late on the weekends to watch cartoons. Sometimes, she’d watch them with me. But I don’t think she liked them that much because she always ended up crying and leaving the room before the shows were over.
“I hope Santa got my letter and saw that I really, super-duper, want an art set.”
That would be so cool.
My mom was the one that took me places but she always made sure the places were empty when we went. Like this past summer, she took me to The Art Institute of Chicago. There were paintings and drawing and statues and all sorts of awesome things.
I told my mom that when I grew up I wanted to do that. She smiled and said, “Why do it when you can just pay people to do it for you?”
I think she wanted me to grow up to buy the paintings, which I would do. After all, they were awesome.
“I think Santa got your letter.”
I nodded and was about to ask about Father when he stumbled into the room. My mom sat up straight and stared ahead as she always did when he came near her. I kept my eyes down and sat on my hands. It’s best not to do anything that might upset my dad.
“Where is the fucking coffee?” he said as he tripped over a few presents getting to the couch. I heard a crunching sound as he stepped on one of the gifts.
“Maria has the day off. It’s Christmas. I didn’t make any because I don’t drink coffee. If you want some coffee, make it yourself,” my mom said.
I closed my eyes tightly. My mom didn’t like my dad. I may only be eight years old, but even I could see that.
She wasn’t nice to him. But, he was mean to her, too. Meaner than mean. My dad was mean to everyone.
My father fell on the couch near me and I bounced, almost falling off. He smelled bad and I frowned, but I didn’t let him see that. My mom may be strong enough to stand up to my dad but I wasn’t.
I felt something on my head. He was pushing my hair around.
“Hey there, kiddo. I got a surprise for you.”
My eyes widened and I wondered. Did my father actually meet Santa? Did Santa help him be nicer? My dad never talked to me and he certainly never got me anything.
I couldn’t help it. I knew not to speak to my father, my mother told me not to so many times, but I had to know.
He crinkled his brow and snapped his head back. “What? No, damn it. Just shut up and let me tell you.”
“Zachery, language,” my mom said as she raised an eyebrow at him.
His eyes widened and he waved his hand around me, and I flinched.
“I’m trying to be a good father figure and got the boy something he might like, but he keeps going on about Santa. I’m really trying here, Emma.”
There was silence for what felt like a minute. I was sad he didn’t meet Santa but maybe what he got me would be just as cool.
My mother nodded. “Fine. Then tell him.”
He sat up and turned toward me. “Alex, how would you like to come to a tropical island with me?”
That definitely beat a trip to Washington, DC.
“Yeah!” I jumped up and clapped my hands even though I knew I should stay seated.
“We leave tomorrow, and there is a pool and coconuts on the trees. You can even wear shorts because it’s so warm this time of year. Not like cold-ass Chicago.” He frowned and shook his head as he mentioned the city.
I jumped some more. “I can get my swim shorts and take them. This will be awesome. Bradley will be so jealous.”
“Why does that name sound familiar? Who the fuck is Bradley?” My father stared at my mom.
“My sister’s son. He lives in the building, Zachery. He’s friends with Alexander,” my mom said but she seemed worried. She was bouncing her foot the same way she did when my father was about to come home for a visit.
“Oh, that’s fine. I thought he was your man-whore.” My father lifted the corner of his mouth and let out a puff of a laugh.
My mother’s foot stopped bouncing. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Alexander to go with you on this trip. He should stay with me.”
“Are you kidding me? He’s my blood.” My father stood as his face turned red. “I may not be that close to him but like I said, Emma, I am trying here.”
“He would need a passport and he doesn’t have one. He might need some shots. Maybe a little more notice next time for something so big as an international trip.”
My mother stood and moved toward me. She knew what was coming and so did I. My mom grabbed my hand and led me to the tree. She reached down and picked up one of the gifts my father tripped over and then handed it to me.
“Don’t do that, Emma. Don’t shelter him. He should know what a controlling bitch you are.”
My mom straightened and turned, pushing me behind her back. “Am I? There is a lot of control in this family but I don’t think it’s me pulling the strings, Zachery.”
“Why do you think I am never around, Emma? Do you think it’s easy for me to look at you and him?” My father was pointing to me as I peeked out from my mom’s hip.
“I never asked you to—”
“No, you didn’t. I asked you. I loved you. As hard as that is to believe, I loved you. But you never loved me. Not once.”
My mother turned toward me. “Alexander, why don’t you take this gift to your room. I know Santa picked it out special. Play there for a while. I’ll come and get you later and we can open the other gifts.”
Bending down, she kissed my cheek and I smelled flowers and tea. I didn’t want to leave her. He was going to hurt her again. I should be stronger and stand up to him. Push him off of her. I wanted to be bigger. So big that no one could hurt her.
I shook my head. “No. Come with me, Mommy. Please.”
I grabbed her arm, but she lifted my hand and kissed it.
“I’ll be there later, I promise.” She walked me to the hallway and watched me go.
I didn’t go very far. After I saw her turn back toward my father, I hid next to the table.
“Why would I love someone like you?” I heard my mom say.
“You’re just a jaded bitch. You thought your beauty would get you money and power, and look at you. Keeping your own son in some gilded prison because you’re weak. So afraid of everything.”
I glanced around my home. It’s not a prison. It’s not at all like the prisons they show on TV. Besides, even if my mother only takes me out at night, I still get to go outside to visit places close by. Prisoners don’t get to do that.
My eyes fell to the golden present in my hand. I tried to tear a piece of the paper but my mom heard me.
“Alexander! I told you to go to your room.”
I scurried off and turned down the smaller hallway that led to my room. Once inside, I climbed up the dragon ladder next to my soft bed. The colorful checkered covers still unmade from when I hopped out earlier this morning, excited to see what Santa had brought.
Not even waiting to sit up, I started to rip at the paper. Gold flew around me and pieces of the present fell in my face. They were sharp so I grabbed one. It was a colored pencil. Taking a closer look, I saw Santa had given me a drawing kit. But some of the pencils were broken from my dad stepping on it earlier.
That didn’t stop me from smiling. I had my very first art kit. That made me an artist. Now I could draw anything I wanted.
Taking the pencils and packet of chalk called pastels, I hopped from my bed and ran to my desk. It didn’t take me long to have a clean sheet of paper in front of me. I knew exactly what to draw.
Time seemed to pass quickly and before I realized it, my mom had come into my room.
“What’s that, Alexander?”
I turned to her with the biggest smile. She would be so happy when I told her what I drew.
“It’s me and you.” I pointed to the small people in the corner of the page. “We are pointing at a plane. Daddy’s on the plane. It’s his trip. Because I want to stay with you.”
My mom ran her fingers through my hair as she stared at the picture. Her eyes seemed to glaze over and I noticed her cheek was swollen and red.
He hit her again. I hated when he did that. Now I was glad I drew what I did.
“It looks like Daddy’s plane is flying into the sun.”
THIRTEEN
Aria
Present Day
“Naked bodies everywhere,” Alex said with a smile that was wide, wonderful, and caused me to blush.
Me. Aria Dixon. Blushing because a man said naked bodies. Not just that, but what he wore could burn the inside of a glacier. How was I to concentrate when Alex Hawthorne, the man full of sculpted muscle and corruptible sexuality, wore a pasted on black T-shirt, jeans, and bare feet?
“What do you mean naked bodies? There are two, maybe three if you count the cherub.” I turned to him, my face serious. “I understand if you want to scrap this whole thing.”
His amazing, sexy gray eyes widened and for that moment, I wondered what his O-face looked like.
Ever since Mrs. Hawthorne asked me to pop her son’s cherry a week and a half ago, I couldn’t stop thinking about sex when it came to Alex. Everything turned sexual and it’s creeping me out.
Don’t get me wrong, I like sex but when I work, I focus on the art. Now I can’t concentrate. Not when he’s standing next to me, heat rolling off his body as my sex-starved skin gobbled it all up.
Now I’m thinking about his skin. Not any skin, but a certain part of his skin wrapped about something that grows long and hard.
“Why would I want to scrap the mural? Aria, you’re talking nonsense. It’s even better than I imagined.” His hand landed on my shoulder and it burned. “You are unbelievably talented.”
I told Mrs. Hawthorne that I wasn’t the one to take Alex’s virginity. It’s one thing for it to happen naturally between a man and a woman. But to be told to do it, by his mother, well, there was something terribly wrong with that.
“That’s very kind of you, Alex, but I think the real point here is that this wall doesn’t need a mural. Maybe just some new wallpaper. Or a splash of paint. I think the painting you
bought of mine, joking aside, would look wonderful in the center of a deep blue wall,” I said and nodded encouragingly.
Alex kept calling me but I ignored him until I accidentally answered his call last Thursday. I told him I needed time to work with Tiffany to create the print outs, which was mostly true. I had needed time but by Thursday I was done.
I stalled coming up with a way to get out of the mural mess. Get away from his screwed-up family. I ran away long ago from one crazy family, and I wasn’t about to be wrapped up in another.
Yesterday I came up with the perfect idea. Alex needed to fire me.
These were the reasons why having one-night stands were much better than getting into a relationship with a man. Because you never just date the man, you also have to deal with the man’s family. After what I had seen and heard about this family, I don’t want to be near any of it, no matter how incredibly sexy and sweet Alex was to me.
“You mean the clown painting?” Alex threw his head back as his eyes widened.
“Yeah.”
“Aria, I love your work and I bought the clown painting because it belonged with the collection. But waking up, or worse, falling asleep to a clown staring at me is not something that will make me happy.”
I threw my arms in the air. “I’m just spit-balling here. Maybe my painting titled Beauty.”
“The guy has a gun to his head in that one.”
I never realized how dark my paintings were.
“Then don’t use my paintings. You have a Warhol I presume, as you seem to have every other famous artist.”
He nodded. “Yes, I own one Warhol.”
“His paintings are colorful and have a brightness to them. Nothing about them should make you scared or sad. Use this wall for a Warhol.” I waved my arm in the direction of the mural I traced out in pencil using Tiffany’s printouts.
He grabbed my arms, bringing me close to him. “But I don’t want a Warhol or even one of your paintings I already bought. I want something unique.” Alex shook his head and dipped it closer to my neck. “I want something exceptional. Something never seen before. I want the only thing you can give me.”
One Wild Ride Page 7