by Lori Flynn
“I’m not wild that you elected yourself as the auctioneer for those bachelors tonight. Don’t you think the professional you hired could bring in more than someone who’s never done it before?”
“Sounds like jealousy. And who said I’ve never done it before? I have many hidden talents. I’ll bet you didn’t know I was a magician’s assistant once, for the Amazing Jerry. I was very good. One night, we were driving down the highway, and when I put my hand on his thigh…he turned into a motel.”
Ben closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “I understand what you’re doing. You’re trying to kill me. Good thing I have my father’s cardiologist on speed dial.”
“It was a joke.”
His warm hands surrounded her waist and drew her closer. “I have a gift for you.” Taking a small jewelry box from his pocket, he placed it in her palm.
In the box was a heart-shaped locket, encrusted in diamonds and suspended from a gold chain. Her eyes filled as Ben secured it around her neck. She reminded herself to breathe, watching his reflection in the mirror.
“It’s stunning.”
“It’s hard to believe I use words for a living when I can’t put a sentence together.” He framed her face in his hands and lowered his lips over hers. “I love you, Olivia, and it scares the hell out of me.”
Her stomach tightened. “I love you too. And I’m just as afraid. Now, before I cry off my makeup, you should get back to your dad. We’re in the middle of a hurricane warning. He may need you to batten down his hatches.”
“He has a whole staff of people to batten down any hatch that needs it.” He kissed her again. “But you’re right. I’ll go. Try to blend in tonight. My imagination’s already working overtime.”
*
Powerful gusts forced her car from her lane. The meteorologist chattering on the car radio called them feeder bands preceding the storm. It makes it sound more frightening, like a monster with a ferocious appetite. She arrived with her stomach tightened in a pulsing knot.
The Gretchen VonBuron Pavilion was braced beneath thickened clouds, its windows shuttered, protected from squalls. Noticeably missing were the numerous potted plants she’d meticulously entwined in twinkle lights. Seen as projectiles, they’d been relocated indoors. She took a few slow breaths into her paper bag before leaving her car.
The faithful staff stood ready to begin. Olivia paced, fighting a crushing fear Ophelia would scare her crowd away. Hands in the air, she cheered the report a parade of cars had pulled in, taking full advantage of the complimentary valet parking.
“Olivia,” Jimmy called out. “I had funds left from my hurricane basket and made these. I want to put them by the entrance.”
She examined the button Jimmy dropped in her palm. “I Spent the Big O at the Happy Howladays Gala,” she read aloud.
“They blink,” he added.
Olivia nodded. “I’d expect nothing less. You have creative ideas. I’m sure everyone will love them.”
Jimmy skipped away as rhythms from the band filled the room. Her heart pounded in her ears seeing the crowd hovered around the dazzling array of holiday baskets, placing their bids. She was wound so tight, her teeth hurt. Hoping it would help, she accepted a flute of champagne from a tuxedo-clad waiter offering cocktails. Walking through the crowd, she hugged, kissed and shook hands, thanking the guests for attending.
“Sorry we can’t stay,” said a young couple as they pressed a check in her palm. “It all looks so beautiful, but we need to get our sitter home before this storm gets any worse.”
Olivia gave an understanding nod and thanked them for their generosity. She then made her way to the kitchen and grabbed her paper bag. Oh, God! Please make the rest stay.
“There you are!” Jimmy skidded into the kitchen. “The auctioneer’s looking for you.”
“I’m on my way.”
“And here, I’ve got some checks.”
Olivia’s jaw dropped. “What? Where’d you get those?”
“Some people needed to leave because of the storm. Are you all right?”
Her head pounded with such force she thought blood might shoot from her eyes. The bag kept her breathing short, shallow breaths. Don’t fall apart. They won’t all leave.
She plastered on a smile and fell in behind him. “I’m fine.”
On the way from the kitchen, Olivia spotted her grandmother and Nanny, sitting across from Ben’s mother, Bunny. She welcomed them warmly and promised she’d be back on her first break.
When the auctioneer took the stage, the silent auction began. Olivia arranged for a group of the Paws for Love guests, awaiting permanent homes, to dress as elves and assist the auctioneer with his presentation of the items. The crowd cheered them on, when they weren’t on their cell phones sharing updates on Ophelia. Olivia kept her word and joined her grandmother’s table during dinner but returned to work as the entertainment, a local comedian, was introduced.
The auctioneer provided Olivia with a warm introduction before relinquishing the microphone for the much-awaited bachelor auction. She thanked the crowd for braving the storm and for their continued generosity and then broke into a wide smile.
She lowered her voice. “I have a special treat for you. With the highest bid on our stage tonight, three lucky ladies can secure their dates for New Year’s Eve.”
Her announcement was met with thunderous applause, after which she welcomed each bachelor to the stage. Olivia read the candidates’ short bios. In a room alive with squeals and catcalls, she opened the bidding. The crowd cheered as each bachelor was ‘sold,’ sending donations soaring.
“Let’s open the bidding for a date with Olivia!” a voice yelled from the back of the room.
“Sorry, she’s taken,” another shout came that sounded very much like Bunny.
As she returned the microphone and the floor to the auctioneer, a waiter tapped her shoulder and offered her a drink. She smiled and waved him away.
“It’s from the man at the bar. He called it a Texas Two-step. He said you’d understand.”
Not again. “Get rid of it,” she shot back as if he’d offered her arsenic.
“I’m sorry.” The waiter turned back into the crowd.
Olivia swallowed the vomit in her throat while her eyes scanned the bar. The sight of a middle-aged, overweight, balding man, smirking as he raised his glass in her direction, sent her scurrying toward the kitchen. She’d almost made it when Bunny stepped in her path.
“You’ve done an outstanding job, Olivia. And thank you for suggesting Ben stay with his father tonight. I was touched by your thoughtfulness.” Her hand rose covering her small gasp. “Your necklace—is that what I think it is? I thought I recognized it across the table.”
“Ben gave it to me this evening.”
“It belonged to my mother, his nana. I gave it to him when he had his first serious girlfriend in college. I told him to save it for The One, the girl he gave his heart to. I’ve not seen it since, until now.”
A cold knot formed in Olivia’s stomach, like she’d swallowed an iceberg. She shook her head as the pain behind her eyes intensified further. “I wish he’d told me.”
“I noticed how he looks at you. You have his heart. Please, treasure it.”
*
Olivia rubbed her temples, listening by the shuttered window as the last of the cars drove from the lot. Had she done it, proved herself? She thought she had a chance but wouldn’t know until she crunched the numbers. Jarred from her thoughts, she flinched as Gretchen burst through the door and hustled in her direction.
“Send everyone home.” Gretchen used her clutch purse to clear a path. “The storm picked up strength and will hit closer than expected—as a Category 2. Clean up will wait; the liability isn’t worth doing it now. You too, Olivia, leave. Good job tonight.”
The staff and faithful volunteers scattered like kids on the last day of school, desperate to get home before conditions deteriorated. Olivia intended to go. Checking on the animals
took priority.
Strong winds and sudden gusts amplified the pounding in her head. Driving rain quickened her stride. She pushed open the door to the main building, thoroughly drenched.
“Olivia, what are you still doing here?” Dr. Hunter asked. “Go home. I don’t want to feel Gretchen’s wrath if you get caught in this.”
“I couldn’t leave without knowing everyone was safe. I’d stay and help, but it looks like you have it handled.”
“I do, a few volunteers and me. The staff took some of them home. We’ll ride it out here with the rest.”
Having heard what she came to hear, Olivia turned to leave.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Dr. Hunter said. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better. It upset me that Gretchen ordered me home before I could run the numbers on the gala, but she’s probably doing me a favor. I’ve never had a migraine this intense before.”
“Migraines are affected by the drop in barometric pressure, which happens when hurricanes strengthen,” Dr. Hunter said. “Go home, before both conditions get any worse. Please drive carefully.”
The wind ripped like razors through the trees as she crossed the parking lot. Proud palms bent to the will of gusts that stung her eyes and blurred her vision. She struggled with the car door, pulling it shut behind her. Her head throbbed. She leaned it against the wheel. She wasn’t up to a fight with Ophelia.
She pictured Ben’s handsome face as he offered his heart. Thinking of Bunny’s pleading eyes brought her to the edge. The guilt paralyzed her. The storm raged on, in and out of the car. Olivia closed her eyes until only the tapping of her mother’s stiletto heels filled her ears.
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Delila
“Damn,” Delila cursed the gusting winds battering her picture window. Ophelia had whirled through the troubled waters of the Caribbean and landed in her front yard. Uncontrolled power disturbed her. This storm is screwing with MY time. She waited, pressing the phone tighter to her ear, as the pounding rain worked her last nerve.
“What the hell, Vivian?”
“You’re the last person I’d expect to hear from on a night like this, Delila.”
“What can I say? Storms wind me up, and this one’s a pain in my ass. Take any calls?”
“Yes, I took one from the Biltmore Hotel; but there are problems. There’s an endocrinologist convention going on. The gentleman’s not a regular or referral, and since the storm’s knocked out my Internet, I can’t check his information. And our car service isn’t running tonight. They’re afraid of a little wind, I guess—bunch of cupcakes.”
“Stop worrying. The Biltmore’s a classy place,” Delila said. “Unless you’re concerned he’ll bore me to death, how threatening could an endocrinologist be? I have my wheels. Give me what you have. Tell him I’m on my way.”
“I don’t like it,” Vivian said. “If something happens to you, Giovanni Prinetti will send his goons after me first. Call me crazy, but the thought of needing dental records to identify my body doesn’t help me sleep at night.”
Delila shrugged off Vivian’s warnings, spiked her short blonde bangs with extra mousse, and braved the elements. She navigated along deserted roadways. Shops and homes with their windows boarded in preparation for the storm quickened her heart rate and speed. She parked on the second floor of the concrete parking garage, entered through the lobby with its classic Mediterranean architecture, and was directed to the bar. In a dusky corner, a sizeable man waited.
“I’m looking for Howard Welker. Is that you?”
“For the first time in my life, I’m glad to say it is,” said the man. “Please tell me your name is Delila, and I haven’t drunk myself into a hallucination.”
“I’m Delila. May I call you Howard?”
“Call me anything you want.” He raised his meaty hands from his lap and cracked his knuckles.
They shared a drink. He’d come to the convention from upstate New York. A feeling spread through her gut, a bad one, like when the music slows in a movie. Maybe it was his close-lipped smile, his large stature, or scarred prominent facial features that reminded her of rock formations.
She shook it off. He’s a doctor, and aren’t we at the Biltmore?
“I hear there’s a hurricane party in the hotel’s ballroom,” Delila said. “Wanna go?”
He declined and mumbled he’d left his cell phone behind in his room. Delila had heard the ploy before and smiled as he led the way.
Howard held the door as she entered the room a few steps before him. His gait, she’d thought slow and hampered earlier, was now steady and direct. He thudded the deadbolt.
She felt more like a cornered animal than a guest. He removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and switched on the TV with the volume at a deafening level. When he shifted his eyes to hers, it erased all doubt. Howard’s demeanor had taken a turn.
“If you wanted to watch a little TV, you should’ve said so.” Delila feigned a smile.
“Is that what high-class whores normally get paid to do in hotel rooms—watch television?” Howard struck back.
Delila paled. “Have I done something to offend you?” She thought only to escape.
He chuckled. “That’s what I’m paying you to do, slut—offend me until I beg you to stop.”
With a clear path to the door, Delila took off running. Howard’s meaty claw reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her back with little effort, ripping her dress. The TV’s ear-splitting racket drowned out her scream as he slapped her face with enough force to bloody her lip. The blow sent her spinning to the floor.
The attack stunned her. Maybe this is his brutal idea of foreplay and not a warning of something worse. The ground shook with his approach. Grunting, he delivered a vicious kick to her side. It left her breathless.
“Get up, bitch. I plan to get my money’s worth before I show you how all good whores end up.”
A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Mr. Welker, Howard, you’re never gonna get away with this. My people keep a close watch on me. No doubt they’re looking for me already since I haven’t called in,” she lied, as her breath came in short, painful bursts.
He threw his head back and laughed. “I wish I could be there to see their reaction when they find you, or what’s left of you.”
Sheer terror swept through her. Delila struggled, unable to stand. She crawled toward the door, glancing over her shoulder when she heard him crack his knuckles. He’d pulled a switchblade from the pocket of his pants, grinning. When he’d bolted the door, she thought he intended to rape her. Now, she feared for her life.
“Get the fuck up. I’m gonna cut the rest of that dress off. You won’t need it anymore.” Howard yanked Delila to her feet.
His hard, dead eyes and broad smile chilled her. She assumed reasoning and pleading would only please him. When he grabbed for her, she smacked his hand, sending the knife barreling under the bed. She was instantly sorry.
Rage radiated from his eyes as his massive hands closed around her throat. He lifted her writhing body from the floor with his tight grip on her neck. He was remorseless, as his fury seemed combined with joy. He sneered, and spit dripped from the side of his mouth.
The TV’s blaring volume and Ophelia’s howling winds masked the violent assault in Howard’s room. Delila clawed and scratched but hadn’t loosened the monster’s viselike hold. Her feet dangled as his barbaric grunting became louder. She fought the paralyzing fear of her journey to freedom ending right there.
Breathless, her head dropped. As her eyes began to close, she noticed she was still wearing her stiletto heels. He outmuscled her, but she wasn’t weaponless.
She aimed her left heel toward Howard’s kneecap, and rammed her right at his groin. Grinding her teeth, she pushed the palm of one hand against the bridge of his pockmarked doorknob nose and jammed her fingers on the other in the direction of his eyes. Her attack caught him off guard.
&nbs
p; “You bitch. I’ll take my time slicing you to shreds, turn you into slut-sushi.”
Howard reeled back, forced to loosen his hold on her throat. She coughed and gagged, drawing in air. As he fell, he grabbed her arms and dragged her down with him.
At the very instant Delila thought she’d perish, Howard’s head struck the corner of the end table; relaxing his hands, freeing her arms. And as Ophelia’s fury plunged the city into darkness, the room around her became silent but for the roar of the wind and her labored breathing.
With lightning speed, she rolled from the mountainous body and crawled. The warm stickiness between her fingers had the strong smell of copper and made her turn her nose up. Howard was bleeding. I need to get away before he wakes up.
Pulling back the drape, ambient light from the window exposed her purse peeking from under the end table where he lay. She crept along the floor. It sickened her finding its corner soaked in his blood. She used furniture to guide her and navigated to the door. Her hands shook as she twisted the deadbolt.
“This high-class whore’s out of here.”
Delila sprinted down the generator-lit hallway to the stairwell, taking them two at a time. The sleeve he’d torn from her shoulder blew back as she ran, and the slice in her skirt caught on her wrist. She didn’t slow or feel the pain until she reached the parking garage. She sped away through the horizontal rain and menacing winds. Discovering she’d left her cell phone behind made her gasp for air. A grievous mistake but going back was out of the question.
Chapter Forty
Olivia
Wind and endless rain pelted the shuttered windows of Casa Nonna, rendering it powerless and Olivia’s room black as pitch. What set her heart racing, beating as if searching an escape route through her ribs, had nothing to do with weather. She had bigger problems: no memory since leaving the gala.
She turned toward her pillow, grateful she’d made it home. Her fingers raked through her dark tousled hair as it tumbled over her shoulders. I left here last night with thirty premium-grip bobby pins holding my updo. Where’d they go?