Requiem

by London Saint James

  The God awful ringing of my room phone broke through the abstractions of my plans to cancel dinner with a sharp severe sound to the ring.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Winter.”

  The deep husky voice rang out with recognition.

  “Chandler?”

  “My brother is going to be a little bit late. His afternoon interviews ran long so to put it mildly, he is upset. He asked me to call you. I will pick you up around seven.”

  I echoed him. “You are picking me up?”

  Chandler chuckled under his breath. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

  “No, it’s just…maybe we should cancel.”

  “Are you joking? If I don’t show up with you on my arm Cayden will kill me, and I would like to live to see my thirty-ninth birthday.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Well, we will need to be careful. The paparazzi are ruthless. The bastards do seem to stalk my brother everywhere he goes. I am hoping the fact I am taking you out may lead them off the trail.” He laughed out loud. “Anyway, Cayden will meet us at the club.”

  “What kind of club?”

  “It is a place we can usually go, eat, listen to music, have a good time without too much in the way of interruptions. The owners are great. They give us a back room away from prying eyes. And they usually do a great job at keeping the pesky photographers out, too.”

  “Oh. It sounds complicated.”

  Chandler laughed then said, “Things do get complicated, but you get used to it. Well as use to crazy as one can get anyway.”

  I leaned strongly toward my original thought of canceling.

  “I don’t know—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back,” Chandler interjected quickly. “Just get ready, don’t stress, and I will see you at seven.” Chandler’s husky voice was casual but filled with authority. “Oh and by the way, Melissa has something for you. I saw it earlier today. Don’t get mad but I think you might like it.” He had a strange tone and inflection as he spoke then quickly said, “Seven.” He hung up the phone.

  Chandler’s an odd creature. Straight forward, bold. But he always seems amused by me somehow. I suppose the complicated workings of Chandler’s mind would never really be known. Perhaps his amusement with me stemmed from our first meeting. The awkwardness of the moment when he saw me out of breath and disheveled with black smudges running across my face, or perhaps there’s something more. What comes to mind when trying to explain Chandler would be, strangely self-confident with women and kind of smug sometimes.

  I heard three short taps at my door. Melissa, already? I answered my door to see my assumptions were correct. She stood with a large black box in her hands.

  “Ms. Wells, Mr. Cain said this was to be delivered to you.” Her voice sweet as she spoke.

  “Melissa, please call me Winter. Ms. Wells is really not necessary.”

  She smiled. “Sure,” she said handing me the box. “Oh…and Mr. Cain said not to get mad, not to pout, and to please wear it.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Melissa shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m just the messenger. Have a good evening, Winter.”

  “You as well,” I returned, looking somewhat baffled I’m sure.

  “I will,” she said as she turned. She glanced over her shoulder, smiled then took her leave. When the door shut, the latch clicked.

  Readjusting the box in my hands, I carried it over to the long couch and laid it down. By what Melissa said I knew inside the box I would find something to wear, so curiosity poked at me. However what I found when I opened the box was beyond anything I could imagine.

  I removed the slick black lid to discover layers of white and gold tissue paper. As I pulled back the fine paper, I listened to the sound of the sheets move. They rustled between each other until I located the garment beneath the paper. I lifted something soft. There in my hand was a silk black dress from Dolce & Gabanna. Jeez Winter, this must have cost a pretty penny. I eyed it, beyond intrigued then allowed my hand to luxuriate for a moment with the soft feel of the silk. Small spaghetti straps attached to the rest of the dress, with no hint of sleeves or much black silk material at that. The back of the dress was nonexistent, low cut and backless. The front of the dress seemed to plunge into dangerous territory.

  I laughed, perhaps even snorted. “He has got to be kidding!”

  Glancing down at the dress once more, I decided this is something a Hollywood starlet would wear, and one which has an outstanding young body. No way should a dress like this be made for my thirty-eight-year-old body. I am not even sure I could have pulled it off when I was twenty.

  I concluded Chandler to be beyond bold and a bit touched. However, if this dress was any indication, the club we were going to must really be something. But this dress went far beyond something. The dress, well let’s say it is best described as almost nothing. I stood without words and held the little black number in my hands, laughing again because I knew I was pouting. How did he know I would pout?

  I laid the dress down on the side arm of the couch then walked over to the phone. I was going to call Chandler to give him a real piece of my mind when something stopped me. A little voice inside my head tugged at me, nudged at me. I turned around and looked at the dress again. Why not? I’ll just try it on. Besides, I doubted I would ever get the chance to be so reckless again. Adorned with a slight grin skipping across my face, I pulled my cotton tank top and shorts off. In a moment of weakness, I slipped the dress on over my head. It slid smoothly over my skin. Shocked it actually fit; I wondered how Chandler could have guessed at my size. Even more than that, why he would be so delusional to even think I would accept such a gift, let alone wear it.

  The mirror would be necessary, so I walked over and gazed at my reflection. My pale almost translucent skin shined bright against the black of the dress. If I were honest, my skin looked smooth, pretty; however, my back became a canvas of nakedness. Nothing covered my flesh, clear down to the dimples above my ass. The neckline, not to be outdone, as scandalous. It plunged to the top of my navel, showing the very curves of my body. The waist became tighter and tapered down around my hips then stopped at the top of my knee. The side slit allowed me movement, however, showed the top portion of my right thigh. This dress, outrageous. But I was impressed. This realization stunned me for a moment.

  I stood, completely still for a minute. The dress didn’t look bad on my body. I wondered about the light. Perhaps the lighting within the room made the dress look better. Or even more likely the contributing factor, my lack of sleep. I suppose the pesky little matter of my total slip in judgment had nothing to do with it either. Then again, could I really wear this dress? Turning to see my reflection in the mirror, I liked what I saw. And perhaps I read too much into the dress and had things all wrong. Could it be this gift was actually a compliment? Did Chandler know I could wear this dress, and I needed to wear it? Maybe he could see something in me I couldn’t see? No, I decided.

  I turned to my side, then to my back, gazing at the reflection over my shoulder. This would defiantly be a dress in which I would have never bought for myself. Truthfully, the Winter I knew didn’t have the guts to even consider a piece of clothing such as this. I took a second glance and knew this little black dress screamed trouble. In reality, the expensive, revealing garment which decorated my body was not a dress for plain introverted Winter. But maybe I could pull it off?

  Maybe?

  Chapter Thirteen

  WHAT AM I DOING?

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom. To my consternation, I indeed wore the little black dress. Underneath, I donned black satin and lace. The satin thong panties matched the lacy garter belt which attached to the thigh-high black seemed stockings, of which I have never worn before. I left my hair down so it flowed down my bare back. Along with the lacy unmentionables, which by the way I ran out to purchase, having bought in a last minute whim, I had put on the far too
high heel shoes. I needed something to go with this all too small all too nonexistent dress.

  I walked over to the closet were I pulled out the long ankle length black woolen coat which I also bought for this occasion. If I where honest, I truly lost my mind. I had no idea what I was doing here, why I consented to wear this dress, why I ran out and purchased sexy underwear, shoes, and a coat, nor why I was going out into public dressed this way. Not only go out, but it seemed I would be going out to meet a twenty-three-year-old Hollywood actor, who very much looked like, sounded like, not to forget displayed the same characteristics as well as mannerisms as someone I loved. Someone I love still and have lost. Oh yes, Cayden was beyond any real or tangible reality for me.

  “What are you doing, Winter?” I said.

  I turned from the closet, gazing once more at my reflection. For years I have wondered who looked back at me from within the mirror. This feeling became true once again. I had seen her face thousands of times, knew the shape of her high cheekbones, the full plumpness of her pink lips, the gentle curve of her eye, the fall of her long hair which fell down her face and neck. I once knew the dark green emerald color of her eyes. But without the person who completed this woman, I was unsure of my own existence, unsure of my own face.

  I didn’t have any idea of who I actually was. I had not been Austin’s Winter since the night of December nineteenth, sixteen years ago, something I have come to accept. But tonight, who was I? I could not recognize this person, this altered version of Winter, standing here wearing a dress for someone else, a dress for a brighter, younger, much bolder woman. Might this really be me? Was I actually going to see a man who was not Austin? No matter what my mind might try to tell me, what deception I would allow my eyes, and never mind what fabrication I may allow my heart. The truth, Cayden Cain wasn’t Austin Carlyle.

  If I were smart, I would peel off this dress, put it back into the box, and send it back to Chandler. I should cancel dinner, walk away from Cayden, and never lay eyes upon him again. But it appeared I was not smart. I felt the flames of my insanity lapping up against my memories of Austin. They rocked the fault lines in my heart. Yes, I certainly needed to seek counseling. There must be something fundamentally wrong with me.

  “What is wrong with me?” I said.

  While a part of my intellect told me this was wrong, to save myself before I did something I could not undo, the other part told me to seek out something which could never be. Yep, I was in huge trouble. I knew it.

  I stood, silent, without a doubt confused by the conflict raging in my mind as well as within my broken heart. I wanted to find Austin’s Winter, to find Austin. A part of me wished to lose the pain, the hurt, and live just a small piece of the life I long ago lost. Maybe I was selfish? But this was crazy, impossible even, and more than likely going to harm me more than I could allow. I think, no not think, I know with no doubt, I had truly lost my mind. If I were honest, it started the minute I boarded the plane to come to New York.

  I glanced at the clock. Seven. Upon seeing the time butterflies swirled inside my stomach. I had not experienced that particular feeling in so long I cannot even remember. At least not experiencing butterflies of anticipation to see a man, a specific man. I was actually anxious to see Cayden, in danger of hoping, but this had to be beyond ridiculous and more than stupid on my part.

  What am I hoping for?

  I knew with complete certainty this type of silly hope would only lead me to more pain. Yet even with the doubt. Even with the absolute knowledge of how completely nonsensical I was being. Knowing I was in real danger of crumbling under the pain which would be inevitable, I watched that stranger. I watched the woman in the mirror as she put on the long black coat and tied the belt around her waist. Her face aglow as she waited with girl-like enthusiasm for Chandler Cain to arrive, to take that woman to see Cayden.

  When I heard the taps at my door, I froze. Indecision ran through me then I thought about Cayden, his face, his lips, his eyes….

  Jesus, Winter, you have lost it. What are you thinking? I had to see him. Against every part of my better judgment, I reached out and opened the door to see Chandler who stood smiling. The usual torn up T-shirt, sweatpants, and flip flops gone, replaced by a stunning dark blue suit covered with a dark gray overcoat. His chestnut color hair was gelled in casual disarray.

  Chandler’s smile changed. He greeted me with his usual amusement. A cool, “Hey,” slid out on his husky voice while one of the two bodyguards accompanied us to the elevator. Chandler became quiet, not saying anything as we reached the ground floor of the hotel then out a back entrance into a waiting black as night SUV. It reminded me of being whisked away in secret, but that was probably the plan.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CLUB REALIZATION

  The ride seemed to take forever, or maybe the feeling stemmed from how unexpectedly quite Chandler was. While I did not know him well, I knew him to be much more verbose, opinionated, and arrogant. In any case, I did know Chandler well enough to be acquainted with his causally laid back demeanor. More so than his current stiff, silent, dare I say strange behavior at present. From time to time I felt his gaze upon my face, but when I would look up to see him he stared out the window, glanced at the bodyguard or looked down altogether. Chandler’s usual smug amusement, no longer made an appearance.

  A few moments passed in silence. Chandler finally spoke to me, but in a business-like manner.

  “Winter, forgive me,” he said with a slight pause. “I have been rude this evening. This is Jayden.” Chandler turned to look at the burly bodyguard at his side. “Jayden is one of Cayden’s bodyguards. He will be with us tonight.”

  “Hello,” I said, observing Jayden.

  Jayden’s deep voice echoed out as he replied, “Hello, Ms. Wells.”

  “Please, call me Winter.”

  Chandler adjusted his view and peered out the window.

  “Langdon, whom I believe you met, is with Cayden. He will remain with us also, once we arrive at the club,” he explained.

  “All right,” I replied.

  Chandler’s expression bordered somewhere between not quite upset but not happy either as he continued. “When the SUV stops, we will be going in through a back entrance. I doubt we will see any photographers but if we do, you are here with me, do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Maybe I—”

  “It will be fine. Don’t worry,” Chandler interjected.

  “Ms. Wells,” Jayden said then stiffened a bit.

  I was unsure of how he could get any stiffer, but he managed. Jayden sported broad shoulders, and he sat as straight as a board. He wore a black suit coat, black jeans, as well as dark black, what looked like, combat boots. His preference to wear dark black sunglasses at night, a bit odd. His hair could only be considered dark and hard to fully discern the actual color because he wore it buzzed. I decided he was a cross between a villain in the Matrix and a much scarier version of Men in Black. All in all, a powerful looking man with a strong jaw and rounded features. Perhaps intimidating might best describe him.

  “Winter….” Jayden changed the formality, obviously catching the fact he called me Ms. Wells instead of Winter, per my request. “When the SUV stops, if there are photographers present, I will exit first, and you stay inside of the vehicle. If not and we are alone, I will exit than you exit. Chandler will follow.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  I should not have come. What am I doing?

  I felt the vehicle come to a stop. Chandler looked out past me again then met Jayden’s gaze. Jayden nodded.

  “Clear,” Jayden said with authority.

  Jayden exited then I exited the vehicle. Chandler followed behind me. I was sandwiched between two large men, until Chandler made his way to my side. In front of me, I saw Jayden reach out for the door. Chandler stopped abruptly. He took my hand and stopped me.

  “Hang on,” he said then dropped my hand.

  Jayden hit what looked l
ike a security buzzer, waited a moment then went inside. He remained out of sight for another moment before he opened the door, motioning with his hand to enter. He walked us through a hall, past a steaming kitchen wafting the smell of grilled steak along with spices. Our final destination, a back room where Cayden sat at a table set for three. Cayden’s face, his posture, looked anxious as he skimmed his index finger along the top edge of a glass while biting at a straw. Another poignant moment seemed to quake my memory. Austin would run his finger along the top edge of his glass from time to time.

  Cayden, dressed in black, stood up from the table. He pulled the straw from his lips and dropped it as he turned. His suit was extraordinary, Versace I realized, only because I was a fan of Versace. I could not help but notice his suit was cut to perfection. It hung faultless on his tall lean body. His black shirt and black tie showed a slight shade lighter than the suit and seemed to set the color of his eyes to midnight indigo.

  A smile, tentative, crossed over his face. He gazed at me with piercing eyes. I closed my eyes for a moment unable to look at him, however without thought, I proceeded to walk forward.

  “Winter, may I take your coat?” Jayden asked politely.

  “Thank you,” I replied. I untied the belt. Stopped

  Jayden slipped the coat off of my shoulders and placed it over his right arm. I heard Chandler clear his throat.

  “Ahem.”

  I turned to look at him.

  “Wow, you actually wore it.” All signs of his usual amusement gone. “You look…stunning,” he said, and Chandler was serious.