Ardent Strangers

by Samantha Kately

  “Are you making this up?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming, hallucinating?”

  He laughs, and I glare back at him. “No, and I have proof. I specifically asked you to give me something in case I woke up and thought that very thing.”

  Okay, now I’m baffled. What did I give him?

  As if he can read my thoughts, he opens his coat and reaches into a hidden pocket. “Remember this?” he asks.

  At first, I can’t make out what he’s holding. In the dim light, it looks like a big brown ball. Then I notice the tulle, the silk… “Aghh!” I jump at the commando bridesmaid flower.

  Nathaniel chuckles.

  Curse that flower! I must have pulled it off my dress. Now that I think about it I never noticed it was missing, such was my love for the hideous thing.

  “I seem to recall you having that same reaction the other night, too.”

  “I did?”

  “Yep. You woke up, looked down at your shoulder and screamed in much the same way.”

  “I did?” I cover my mouth.

  “Don’t worry. It was a nice change of mood for me, cleared my head a little.” He smiles tightly, and I can tell he’s thinking about the darker parts of the night.

  “Umm.” I look down, examining the fine pattern of lace flowers on my gown. There are so many things I want to ask him about that night, about him, and I realize I’ve been talking easily with Nathaniel for the past few minutes, oblivious to the contract. I should stop talking, but…but I don’t want to. I like the way he talks to me, the way he looks at me.

  (I shouldn’t.)

  I scrunch my nose, carefully debating everything he’s said. “What did we talk about?”

  He looks around the studio as the crew resumes work. “Not here.” He taps my nose, and I pout.

  “Where, then?”

  “Do you remember our dinner plans?”

  “Yes.” How can I possibly forget? He reminds me at every broadcast!

  “Eve.” I startle at Aaron’s voice. Without a single look in Nathaniel’s direction, he takes my hand. The coldness of it all is frightening. “Let’s go.”

  Nathaniel’s eyes harden. “I’m sorry, Aaron, did you not notice that Evangeline and I were in the midst of a conversation?”

  I try to slide my hand from Aaron’s, not liking his mood. He grips it tighter. The room has gone silent. Everyone who had been applauding earlier is now watching. I step back into the curtain and look towards the exit, ready to make a dash for it.

  “Aaron,” I hiss softly.

  His nostrils flare.

  “Let’s forget my conversation with Evangeline for a moment,” says Nathaniel.

  “Wise.” Aaron strides away, taking me with him.

  “I thought we could talk instead,” Nathaniel says. “Grab a coffee, like old times.”

  We are halfway to the exit when Aaron drops my hand and turns. I think he might be considering the offer as Nathaniel crosses the room. But as the two men come face-to-face, Aaron snarls, “What I’d like is for you to leave Evangeline and me alone.”

  “And I think we need to talk,” says Nathaniel, retrieving his wallet.

  “What? You’re going to pay me to talk now?”

  “No. I wanted to give you this,” he says, holding a business card toward Aaron.

  Aaron snatches the card, reads it, and piffs it back at Nathaniel.

  Nathaniel, in possibly what is a stupid move on his part, offers the card to Aaron again. “If you won’t talk to me, then at least talk to him.”

  “I’m not talking to any shrink. Just because you need one doesn’t mean everybody else does.”

  Nathaniel stashes the card into his pocket. “This isn’t about me. Why can’t you accept the help for once? You’re always trying to fight it, just like when you got back from—”

  “You’re trying to help me now?” Aaron’s fist clenches, and I’m scared of what he might do next. I can almost see it: Aaron laying one punch after another on Nathaniel, Nathaniel crumpling to the ground as his security guards tackle Aaron. “Where were you last week when I needed you, Nate?”

  “I wasn’t at my best. But I’m here now.”

  “Yes. Why are you here?” Aaron straightens to his full height. “Let me guess. You can’t keep away from her.”

  Behind Aaron, Nathaniel stares through the shadows at me, and I can almost see the question in his eyes: ‘Do you still believe I was following you?’

  I give him a small smile, hopefully received as assurance, but it’s all I can muster with the entire room watching on. I have the urge to cover my eyes. There are smartphones pointed at me, at the two bickering friends. A video camera peeks around a chair, and I do shield my eyes. It’s the worst location for this scene to unfold. Nathaniel understands my reaction immediately, for he backs away from Aaron and scans the room.

  “Emma, a word?” Nathaniel says.

  The executive producer strides forward. “Yes, Mr. Blake?”

  “Stop the filming or I will never work with this network again. Understand? That exclusive interview I’d signed on for Monday night, you can kiss that goodbye. As for any other exclusives in the future… Guess.”

  “Mr. Blake?”

  “There’s no future.”

  “Yes, Mr. Blake.” Emma turns, wobbles on her heels, then shouts, “Cut! Everybody cut! Place your recording devices on the floor and take two steps back. I will be personally checking and deleting the last ten minutes from all of them.”

  There is a collective groan around the room, then thuds on the floor as phones, cameras, and watches are all put down. As Emma walks around the room checking each device, I take this moment to escape, running out into broad daylight and along the pavement. I spy Aaron’s black Jeep and stop, debating whether I should wait for him or walk the fifteen minutes home.

  In this ten-thousand-dollar designer dress.

  Screw the dress. I slip off my heels, hitch up the hem, then set off in a fast walk. Seconds later, Aaron is clasping my arms. I turn, about to push him away. But I don’t. Who knows what he’ll do?

  “Eve, talk to me,” he says, stroking my cheek. I don’t find it calming.

  “I want to pull out of the competition,” I announce.

  “Eve, we’ve talked about this. We’re good enough.”

  I turn my head, seeing a garden wall with a scatter of flowers and an old townhouse. It’s easy to look at. Unlike Aaron. “It’s not that. You stormed out of the studio before. We hadn’t even finished. Then when you came back in and ordered me a—”

  “You did more photos? Without me?”

  “Yep.”

  I can’t believe it. He actually looks peeved for a second. “Alright. Not to worry. I swear you can count on me from now on. I was having a moment. It won’t happen again.”

  I nod, not sure whether to believe him. He pulls me into a hug and kisses me lightly on the lips. I stay there, unmoving. Convenient that he should take me off hold when it suits him. He kisses me again, deeper, but I pull back.

  “Are you upset about Nathaniel?” he asks.

  “Yes, I’m upset. But not at Nathaniel.”

  “You’re blaming me for that?”

  I consider nodding, but don’t move a muscle.

  “I was trying to look out for you, Eve. After the way you reacted in the café, I assumed you wanted nothing to do with him.” He pulls back. “Am I wrong?”

  “I…”

  “Am I?”

  I shake my head. A lot. I feel small all of a sudden. Fragile. Cold. The white dress is flapping around my ankles from several gusts of wind, and I wonder why I never knew that lace and silk could feel so hard against my skin. I wriggle in his arms. His hold loosens and I back away fast.

  “Eve, what are you doing?” he asks. “You don’t think I’m going to hurt you, do you?”

  I shake my head, but I turn anyway. I am walking blindly, not really seeing anything except for t
he odd strands of hair catching in my eyes.

  I hear his footsteps, then glance back to see him striding toward me. “Eve! Wait!”

  “No,” I mumble as I collide into the person in front of me. Nathaniel’s arms spring around me lightly, steadying me, much like earlier when I’d tripped over the cable. His eyes drift to mine, assessing me, before his gaze fixes on Aaron. “Hunt?” he murmurs to the shaven headed security agent behind him. “Take Evangeline home. I need to talk with Randall.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Blake,” Hunt says, then smiles at me. His crooked smile is friendly, as if he’s taking a lost puppy home from the pound.

  I smile back. It’s a pathetic smile, really. Wobbly.

  Nathaniel’s gaze narrows, and I can tell he doesn’t believe my smile at all. Then he walks past me, shirking off his winter grey coat, and I am left with a surge of dread. I spin around to see Aaron waiting. He looks taller, stronger, and ready to beat the hell out of Nathaniel.

  “You’re scaring her, man,” Nathaniel hisses. “Calm down.”

  Aaron tenses further. “You scare her. Did you know that, Nate? That’s why she ran from you in the coffee shop. Why she never answered your hotline. If you’d kept away from her in the first place none of this would have happened.”

  I want to scream the truth at Nathaniel. His stature has gone ridged. The only movement is his black suit shifting in the wind, giving glimpses of muscles which on most men would be impressive—against Aaron, not so much.

  “I disagree,” Nathaniel says calmly.

  Aaron’s fist swings out, lightning fast. Nathaniel has already ducked to the side by the time that I’ve gasped. My heart slows a fraction, still beating a million miles a minute.

  “Miss Lockhart?” says Hunt. “This way.” He takes my forearm, leading me in the opposite direction, past the crew and the executives watching from the glass doors of Channel 3 studios, not a camera in site. I peer behind me, and I can make out Aaron’s voice: “Still practicing, then?”

  “Always,” Nathaniel replies.

  “I’d thought you would’ve given up now that I’m not there to spar with you. Guess your father really did put the fear of God into you.”

  Nathaniel’s fist clenches at his side. His knuckles turn white. “Tell me you did not just say that.”

  Aaron smiles and throws a right jab at Nathaniel’s face. I gasp, but Nathaniel has narrowly escaped again.

  At the corner of my eye, Agent Brewster appears, talking hurriedly to Emma. She is on her phone at once, voice trembling. Me? I’m beyond scared, because I hear a grunt. Aaron follows the attack with an uppercut to Nathaniel’s gut.

  Nathaniel bends over, clutching his side. He stumbles backwards, then waits for Aaron to advance. Nathaniel lurches forward and throws a punch, connecting with Aaron’s cheekbone. Agent Brewster runs between them, while I’m guided into the back seat of a car, lost in the happenings further down the street. The car takes off. I stare out the back window and see blow after blow. Brewster is down. Agent Hamada steps in, administering a roundhouse kick that forces Nathaniel and Aaron apart. The fight goes full scale as Channel 3 unleash six security guards. I just pray they both survive. Perhaps one more than the other.

  Past, present, future

  It’s been four hours since I left Aaron on the street. In that time I’ve played our demo song to death and I can’t bear to sing it again. Singing Aaron’s parts was a torture all on its own. I kept imagining he was here on the sofa with me, but the image of his fist connecting with Nathaniel’s gut continually replayed through my mind. For all I know, Nathaniel is lying in a hospital somewhere, his face and body bruised and broken beyond recognition.

  I feel sick again.

  I need to get out of the house.

  Since meeting Nathaniel and Aaron, all thoughts of fitness have gone out the window. It’s been over a week since I’ve been for a jog, and that spurs me to pull on my running gear and do some stretches against the kitchen counter. My phone glints beside the fruit bowl. I sigh and snatch it up, re-reading the text I’d received two hours earlier: ‘Have an appointment with Dr Brown in 5. Back in a few hours. Eve, I’m sorry. Aaron.’

  With my new resolution not to cry, I stare at the screen a moment longer, grab my bottle and keys and run out into the twilight. I only make it as far as the gate when I spot Aaron’s Jeep parked out in the street. I can make out his hands clutching the back of the headrest, his dark silhouette utterly still. Maybe I should jog in the other direction… He is sitting outside in the car for a reason. But as I open the gate and sneak out onto the sidewalk, I take one last look at Aaron and set off on my usual route.

  The sick feeling worsens as I jog past the Jeep and the next row of townhouses, and a car door opens and shuts.

  “Eve!” Aaron calls.

  I turn, panting lightly. “Hi.”

  Aaron is beside me in seconds, jogging in those long strides of his. “Care for some company?”

  “Sure.” I give him a sidelong glance, checking his mood. He is staring out at the last crease of sunlight as it sinks below the horizon. He finally looks calm, even though his cheekbone is darkly shadowed by a bruise and the swelling has partially closed over his eye. Part of me thinks we should turn back home and find an icepack for the swelling. The other part of me wants him to suffer. The way he treated Nathaniel today… I don’t know if I can forgive that.

  After the first block Aaron’s not even puffing. He moves freely, as if he could run all night. By the third block I’m puffing hard, surprised at how much fitness I’ve lost in a week. On the corner, he gives me a relaxed nod toward the street on our left. Thinking this is a completely different Aaron to the one back at the studio, I smile and we take the turn. Halfway up the street, I am cursed with a blasted hill and I slow down.

  “You need a break?” he asks.

  I shake my head, trying to pace my breath. “It’s not fair how you do this so easily.”

  He laugh-grunts. “I’ve been doing this route every day since I moved here.”

  “When?” I say indignantly.

  He stops for me to catch up. “Mornings, mostly. When you’re at work or asleep. I don’t function well without exercise.”

  I’d hate to see him without exercise.

  When we finally make it back to our front gate, I almost collapse against the pickets. I down my water in seconds. Aaron has barely touched his water. He looks fine, better than fine—a brooding model under the streetlamp, even with the bruise. As his gaze falls lightly to mine it’s as if I have the old Aaron back. One session with Doctor Brown and Aaron is talking again. It’s a miraculous turnaround, almost too good to believe.

  I take a nervous breath. “How are you?”

  His nostrils flare, as if I’ve caught him off guard. “Better than I was earlier, if that means anything.”

  “So, Doctor Brown was helpful, then?”

  “I see him again Monday. He wants to see me after our show tomorrow night, see how I’m dealing with it all.”

  “You don’t sound too keen,” I say. “Do you want me to come with you? I could wait outside.”

  “Thanks. But I can handle it.” He steps up to me and tentatively runs his hand over mine. “You’ve done more than I could have asked for. And I hate to admit it, but Nathaniel made a good point. I scared you. I didn’t see it at the time, but after talking with Dr Brown I see how I must have looked to you. Especially after your problems with Jeremy.”

  “You discussed me with Dr Brown?” I thought he’d be talking about his brother the whole time. Aaron was right. I am a complication to him.

  “You’re important to me, Eve. You know that, don’t you?”

  I shrug shyly, a little taken aback.

  “You are.” Aaron clears his throat. “If we hadn’t met, I doubt I would have gotten through this. I can’t even imagine an alternative. You’re always there.”

  They are the perfect words to win me back again. “I want to be. Always. But you need to k
now it wasn’t easy to be there for you today.”

  “Fair call. The fact that you’re still willing to talk to me is far more than I deserve.”

  Honestly, I’m surprised I do want to talk to him. If it had been anyone else I’d have moved house already. I want to ask him about Nathaniel. Instead, I point to his cheekbone and ask, “Are you hurt anywhere else? You know…from the fight?”

  He raises an eyebrow, as if that’s answer enough.

  “Bruises, broken bones?”

  “Only here,” he says, patting his cheekbone lightly.

  “What about Nathaniel?”

  “What about him?”

  “I’m not moving until you tell me.”

  He sighs. “Yes. A little.”

  “How little?”

  He paces back and forth before me. “Eve, please, let’s go inside.”

  “He was your friend, Aaron. Your best friend, and you attac—” I stop. Aaron looks completely on edge. “Let’s go inside.”

  He walks past me and is through the gate like a gale. I dawdle down the garden path and take a moment to soak in the moon and the starlight. Unlike Aaron, I’m in no rush to be inside. An hour later, Aaron retrieves the time capsule from his room and takes a moment before twisting it open.

  “Can I show you something?” he says.

  “Okay.” I put down my guitar as he takes his spot on the sofa. He tips the capsule’s contents into his lap and out spills the DVD, the photo of him and Damien, the two wrist bands, and the neatly folded letter. This is what he treasures enough to buy a house and break down its walls.

  “We had no idea what to put in this thing.” Aaron laugh-grunts as he drops the pieces of capsule onto the coffee table. “Then our family returned to London for the Easter break —mostly because my Dad had been called back for work. As for Damien and me, we were eager to visit Nathaniel again. That’s when we got the idea to record this demo clip in Nate’s garage,” he says, tapping the disc before passing me the letter. “The lists came next. Nate was staying with us at the time, so we each made one. When we returned to Australia, Damien and I added the photo and the wristbands at the last minute. Then we sealed up the wall, painted it as if the hole had never been there. You can read that if you like,” he says, pointing to the list crinkling in my hand.