by Crystal Shaw
Color Her Red
Crystal L. Shaw
Acknowledgements
There is no way that I could have pursued my passion for writing
without the support of my love Shawn,
without guidance from Sameer,
or without help from the most amazing friends and sisters
that anyone could ever ask for:
Katelyn, Kiersten, Raechelle, and Becky.
I am forever in their debt.
Prologue
Staring out the window behind my desk with my hands in my hair, I debate how I should handle this. It’s almost nightfall and the New York skyline is just starting to come to life. I stretch my arms out in front of me, making my shoulders arch and my back crack, and let out a lengthy exhale; it’s been a long day. I need to finish this deal, at least come to some resolution, before I can leave the office. I glare down at the email, narrowing my eyes. They want too much for their company, and I’m not going over my budget. It would make my life easier to have it privately owned, by me, but I make up my mind. I won’t buy them out, not at that price. I’d rather spend the money creating a competitor. It’ll take some time, but financially it’s the better move. Decision made, I have to call Bowe and tell him no deal - we’re at our bottom line and we aren’t budging.
I finally sit in the high back desk chair, somewhat satisfied with my decision, and glance down at the sterling silver picture frame on my desk. She looks stunning, comfortable and satisfied in my embrace; I happily accept the distraction. My body relaxes and my lips curl up as I think about that night, the surprise she had for me under that dress. For someone so sweet and innocent she can be quite brazen. I rest my head in my hand, elbow on the desk, tapping my temple with my index finger and stare at the picture, at her beautiful curves. Just looking at her makes my libido rev.
My smile fades as I remember I still haven’t told her about yesterday. I stiffen. There’s a fight I don’t want to have. A distressed moan escapes through my gritting teeth. I breathe deep and move my eyes to the computer screen and then back to the photograph, strumming my fingers on the desk. She doesn’t need to know and there is no point in me worrying her for no reason. I’ll take care of it. She worries enough as it is, always fretting. She hasn’t changed since the first day I saw her. The recollection makes me grin as I lean back in the chair keeping my eyes on her stunning smile.
I noticed Kate first, a tall blonde pouncing about, talking louder than she needed; she didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Like dominoes, she haphazardly bounced off Emma, my Emma. She tried to balance herself, but bumped into me, splashing a small bit of coffee into the air. I should be grateful for Kate’s lack of grace, without her I wouldn’t have seen Emma. I scowl thinking of what my life would have been like without her, without my Emma.
She was beautiful, still is, with soft chestnut curls surrounding her pale skin and a petite frame that made her seem fragile and delicate. It was her eyes that entrapped me though, a striking hazel. For a moment, I forgot why she’d stopped and why I’d been able to study her features. I don’t believe I said anything, I just observed, waiting for her eyes to meet my gaze.
Watching her fuss over spilled coffee was amusing. She couldn’t stop apologizing, I grin at the thought and roll my eyes. It wasn’t her fault, but she unknowingly took all of the blame. I remember how soft her voice sounded, “I shouldn’t be so clumsy. I’m so sorry.” She made a desperate attempt to wipe the coffee off my shirt with the tiny square napkin in her hand, until she saw me watching. I could tell she was intimidated and possibly embarrassed. She stumbled back a bit, continuing to apologize. I tried to reassure her, but she only gave a soft apologetic smile, avoiding my gaze.
As she walked away, I began to feel irritated; now that I had to change my shirt I was going to be late for my meeting, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. I turned behind me to see her walking, taking easy steps as her hips rocked just enough to see her provoking curves. Whoever it was I was going to meet with, they could wait. I turned abruptly and briskly walked until they were easily in my sight, keeping my eyes focused only on her. She made me want more, I wanted to see what she looked like when she was pleased, what it sounded like to hear her laugh. I stayed back a few steps, walking slowly behind them. Waiting for a moment to open, waiting to see her smile.
Her soft delicate hands gripped the twine handles of the shopping bag, moving her thumb over the rough material, in a rhythmic motion. The elusive length of her skirt cut just below her knees flowed as she walked; watching her hips sway was mesmerizing. I admired her small waist leading to that gorgeous backside, feeling a low carnal hum deep in my throat. I heard her gentle voice over the crowd, a small laugh. I’d like to hear that pleasing sound again. I could make her laugh; I could make all sorts of sounds escape those exquisite lips. They stop. Stopping for coffee? Probably because she spilled hers a moment ago, I grinned at the thought. As I approached, I felt my breathing quicken and my face heated. No time for nerves, game on. I should’ve asked her out for a cup of coffee, although that would be a bit too humorous.
Don’t deny me, Miss Gorgeous & Apologetic.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
The unrelenting annoyance in my office disturbs me from the pleasant remembrance. I answer the phone annoyed by the interruption. I snap, “What?”
“S-Sorry to disturb you Sir. Elizabeth from public relations is here to see you. She apologizes for coming unannounced. She says it’s urgent.” My secretary’s voice is meager and her sentences are separated by quick intakes of air. I don’t feel bad for her; I pay her well to deal with my bullshit and quite frankly she should be used to it by now.
“Send her in.” I hang up the phone, still annoyed. God damn it! What the hell happened now?
The power suit of a bitch that is my public relations consultant sashays through my office doors, slamming them shut behind her. I gesture my hand for her to take a seat, glaring at her audacity. The blouse beneath her jacket is unbuttoned to such an extreme that I find it hard to take her seriously. Elizabeth has worked for me for years. Each year my agitation grows larger, as does her insolence. She is damn lucky that she’s good at her job.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Her lips are pursed and her eyes are narrowed at me.
Deciding not to hide my irritation I reply in a low monotone, “That depends, what exactly can I tell you that will make you leave my office?”
Her gaze doesn’t leave me as she hisses, “You can start with how many women you are currently fucking.” My eyes widen at her response, first with shock and then rage, unforgiving rage.
Chapter 1
I hear my mother’s voice, Emma dear; a little wine goes a long way. I shake the thought, not now Mom. One more glass down and finally I don’t care anymore. Or, at least for a moment, I don’t want to care. Should I grab another? That’s the only question on my mind. And if I am able to ask the question, then I already know the answer. I’m vaguely aware that I will feel the stingy throbbing ache that is a hangover tomorrow morning but that physical pain is worth the emotional numbness that I desperately seek tonight.
Maybe I should try to pull myself together; I might find relief with a pool of cool water on my face. No, I should look like a wreck and I should feel like a wreck. That’s what I am right now, a seven-car pileup on the interstate with an over turned tractor-trailer. You’re a wreck; deal with it. I come to terms with this fairly easily, maybe because of the wine, or maybe I’m just not ready to look at myself in the mirror. I imagine the cars wrecking, as though that’s what actually happened. My eyes wince and my body sinks deeper into the sofa.
Kate is with me. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her face is tear-stained. Even with the pained look a
nd ill-kept appearance she still looks stunning. How the hell is that even possible? I bet she’s wearing waterproof mascara. For a second I consider asking her. It would be a nice change in conversation. Knowing Kate, it might make her laugh a bit. My eyes brighten for a moment at the thought of a happy exchange of words, and then they dim again with disappointment. Not tonight, maybe another time.
We’ve been curled up on her sofa draped in a chenille blanket, drowning ourselves, our thoughts really, in Cabernet Sauvignon. I think that we’ve been like this for hours now, even though it feels as though it’s been days. I look at the clock, 8:43 PM. Almost four hours of her desperately and hopelessly trying to console me. No resolve has been found. Not that I know what I want the resolve to be. It doesn’t really matter what you want any way. He’s going to get what he wants, he always does.
I don’t know how many times she has told me “it’s alright” and “everything's going to be fine.” It’s not what I want to hear.
What do you want to hear?
I don’t know. The thought makes my heart dig deeper into my chest and the hollowness fills my insides. I don’t know what I want.
We haven’t really been speaking in the eternity that has passed, just crying. Whenever I start to talk, I can’t, words fail to escape my lips. I am unable to utter a sentence without morphing into a sobbing lunatic, my words cut off by hysteric gasps for air. She has been so patient. Trying to talk me through it, trying to get me passed this desolate stage. She’s been unsuccessful, but I appreciate her efforts. I don’t think anything or anyone in the world could help me right now. I have to face the inevitable. I shudder. Good God, what will I feel like then? I imagine a bridge crumbling to pieces in the center causing dozens of cars to plummet thousands of feet before crashing into the water, slowly sinking, being consumed by the dark unforgiving water.
I thought we would be chatting over a combination of bridal shows and catty reality television. That’s what these nights usually deliver. We escape to her sofa with Chinese food and a bottle of wine, confiding in each other about the details of her latest beau or family drama. It’s our usual routine, ever since we graduated from college and moved to the big city, at least once a month for the last four years. But tonight is so much different, so much darker and so quiet. The room is full of silence; the only exception is the antique clock on her wall, keeping track of my tragedy with simple tick, tick, ticks. The ticks are getting louder, mocking me.
I see Kate move, adjusting the small throw pillow under her arm, she is staring at the ceiling with her knotted fingers resting on her chest. Watching her, I can see she is exhausted. She closes her eyes and breaths in deep. I’m sure her eyes are burning too. She has cried just as much as me. She’s been stronger than me, but she cried every time with me. Unfortunately for her, she saw the seven-car pile up happen in slow motion. She shouldn’t have to deal with this catastrophe. I wish I could rewind. I wish I could have prevented her from experiencing this heartbreak. I probably would have called her though, as soon as I saw the photos. My body braces at the thought. I know I would have called her. I wouldn’t have known whom else to call or what else to do.
She has always been there for me, making everything better when my world starts falling to pieces. We’ve been best friends attached at the hip since before I can remember. I admire her large green eyes, tanned skin and perfectly blonde hair. Kate is absolutely gorgeous and poised, with the world at her feet. She goes through men like I go through wine. Maybe that’s why I was so shocked that Thomas wanted me and not her. How could he be interested in just a simple, average brunette, not the hot blonde bombshell standing next to me?
“Oh my God Emma!” I remember her screeching, looking back to make sure he was out of earshot. “He is totally into you. You lucky Bitch! I would kill for someone like him to look at me like that.” She playfully grabbed me by the waist making us chaotically sway on the sidewalk. Leaning into me she grinned, “Good God, he is so hot. Did you see his shoulders? I bet he has a perfectly photo-shopped abs under that shirt.”
I just giggled at her ridiculousness.
“I would grab that ass and ride him raw.” She said confidently, practically drooling. I remember her comment all too well. She caused me to convulse into frenzied laughter.
She went on and on completely uncensored as we continued to stride down the concrete sidewalk. All I could think was that she must be crazy and that I should be more careful not to bump into people when my hands are full of shopping bags and a cup of thank-God-it’s-not-scalding-but-still-hot coffee.
She was right though. He just kept looking at me with his perfectly handsome wide smile while promising, “It’s fine, really.” His impeccable blue eyes never left me, even as he haphazardly tried to wipe his shirt dry.
I closed my eyes and fantasized that he really hadn’t taken his eyes off me and that the gorgeous man was in fact flirting with me. He was in a crisp white button down shirt with a tie and a leather jacket looking like the perfect combination of serious CEO and sex god. The thought sent pure bliss through my body, everywhere. One area in particular was a little more blissful than usual.
Not five minutes after parting ways he was beside us outside of a coffee shop. When I turned to see him standing there, I was utterly speechless and, for the first time ever, so was Kate. Her lower jaw even dropped a bit. She humorously moved her hand up to close it and let out an asymmetric grin.
For a moment I though, “Fuck, he heard her.” Kate didn’t seem to think he could have possibly heard her obscene gabbing or if he had, she didn’t care. She just stood there trying to contain her grin and staring first at me, then him, and then back at me. I could imagine her with pompoms rooting, “Go Emma, go Emma,” doing high kicks in the air.
Before I could apologize for Kate’s uncensored blubbering, he smiled wide and just the sight of his gorgeous face handicapped my ability to speak. He was unbelievably attractive. Those soft blue eyes, perfect white smile, exceptional jaw line, and just a bit of stubble making him look casual but so fucking hot.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said calmly, relaxing his breathing. “I just thought maybe you would let me take you out to dinner.” His blue eyes penetrated me. A date? This unbelievably handsome sex god wants to date me?
The pompom version of Kate did a split and threw her hands up releasing the pompoms, “Score!” The real version tightened her now wide smile and her eyes lit up, she continued to stare at me. I wanted so badly for her to speak for me. She cleared her throat and for a moment I thought she would, but instead her wide eyes just looked at the ground as she moved from side to side. I’m not sure what was more embarrassing my lack of an aptitude to speak or Kate’s schoolgirl behavior. If she had a pen and piece of paper on her she probably would have written a note:
Do you like Emma? Circle One
Yes No
I could hardly comprehend that this picture-perfect hunk of a man, who I had just spilled coffee on, ran down the sidewalk passed hundreds of people to ask me out on a date. How did he even find me? Next time I need a date; apparently all I need to do is dump a hot beverage on a good-looking gentleman and poof, he’ll ask me.
I parted my mouth in disbelief and tried to return a response. My hesitation was obvious. I just stood there, staring at him. My face felt like it was on fire and my mind was racing. Say something you idiot; don’t blow it!
“I mean, I think you at least owe me one date. You did stain my shirt,” he said smoothly with a smirk on his gorgeous face. He made me blush and saved me from myself. I couldn’t help but to smile.
I knew he was exceptionally handsome and that he looked familiar, but I had no idea who he actually was when I agreed to let him take me to dinner. In fact, it wasn’t until after our first date when I searched his name online that I realized I had just given a multibillionaire a singular kiss after taking me out to have probably one of the most amazing meals I’d ever eaten.
The first thing that came
to my mind was, “Thank God I didn’t invite him back to my apartment.” I was sure he had maids to keep everything tidy and elegant artwork hanging on walls and spacious rooms with cathedral ceilings. What would he think of my cramped apartment with Ikea furniture littered with manuscripts and crumpled pieces of paper thrown about? Before I could even worry that I had blown my chance with him by only allowing a single lonely kiss, he sent me a text.
Thank you so much for a lovely evening.
X Thomas
Was that single “x” poking fun at the fact I only let him have one peck? Well, it was way more than a peck, but still. I waited a full two agonizing minutes to text him back. I didn’t want to seem desperate, as if waiting two minutes could help me escape that image.
Thank you Thomas, I had a great time.
XX Emma
I thought I would be cheeky and give him another kiss. No hug though, I didn’t want to be too lovey-dovey. He immediately sent a message back. He didn’t seem to care whether or not he appeared desperate. Why should he?
I’d like to see you again. Would you join me Saturday? I have a corporate dinner to attend. We can go out for a drink afterwards.
I still remember the overwhelming joy running through my body. I jumped up and down holding in my screaming delight. Pounding my fists through the air in triumph. It may have been a bit obnoxious to my neighbors. Mrs. Jones from below my apartment started banging on the ceiling, yelling at me to knock it off. So I sat on my desk chair just hugging myself and then of course I called Kate to inform her how glorious my date was. I smiled so much that night my cheeks hurt all week.
THAT WAS THE BEGINNING, a little over two years ago, a year before our wedding. Just thinking of it makes my heart collapse and my stomach feel hollow.