by Marie Wathen
“Anything else?” Rhys asks, trying to reign in this lost cause he calls a meeting. Since Tac already put him in his place, I don’t think he’ll bring up the Keys fiasco again, but I brace for the threat of him shoving his combat boot up our asses anyway. He doesn’t. Instead, Sam redirects by chatting about something that has to do with our grandparents. Within a minute everyone’s voices are elevated and I’m sure I missed something important.
“What happened?” I beg Raithe, the quiet one of the group. He hasn’t really said a damn thing all night, but I’ll bet he knows a helluva lot more about what’s going on right now than I do.
“They’re arguing about the party.” Party?
“What party?” I ask, a little too loudly, but hey, it worked to shut them all up–everyone except Tac, who is laughing and raising his glass to me again. “What party?” I repeat, I think.
“Granddad and Gran’s fiftieth wedding anniversary is this weekend,” Sam reminds me.
“Oh, damn, I almost forgot.” I turn to Raithe and add, “Forgetting that would have been baaaaaaaad!” He grins while nodding agreeably, knowing my Gran would have royally kicked my ass for missing her celebration.
“I’m not going to argue about it, Sam,” Marcus objects about something our sister suggested, while everyone is looking my direction. “I’ll stay home with Breesan.”
“No,” Breesan demands. “You heard your sister. They want the whole family there. If you don’t go, I’ll feel terrible. And I’ve been responsible for enough shit lately. Please just go with them.”
“It’s not an option,” Marcus counters, shaking his head.
“She’s going, too,” Sam announces. With that, the spotlight is off me and every eye is bugging out, looking at her. She doesn’t even flinch at the multiple shocked expressions. She just continues answering the questions swirling in everyone’s heads. “It’s a masked ball at the castle. Everyone’s going. She’ll be under our full protection the entire night.”
Shaking his head, Marcus argues, “Dammit, I don’t like it. She’ll be too exposed.”
“Not any more exposed than she is at Toxic,” Sam maintains, arching an eyebrow and waiting for him to disagree.
“But that was necessary.” I’ve got to give it to my brother, he doesn’t back down from a fight.
“You didn’t think so when Rhys came up with the idea.” Oh, that shut him up and he looks pissed. I laugh.
“So,” Sam redirects to Breesan. “We’re going shopping. I’ll pick you up Wednesday, and we’ll find you something to wear that will be both beautiful and keep you in disguise.” Breesan nods and then narrows her eyes on Marcus’s lap.
“Sorry,” Marcus offers, standing and pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. “I need to take this.” He strolls out of the office and the conversations take on a life of their own instantly.
Rhys yells once, trying to regain some sense of control over the zealous group, but Sam is so far gone talking about the party that he doesn’t stand a chance. Raithe and Tac mention getting dates and my heart does a swan dive straight down into the shitter. The last time I was at the castle was when I met Breesan for the first time on our blind date. I stare at her smiling at my sister, her gray eyes sparkling happily, and a genuine smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
Breesan knew instantly that I wasn’t the guy for her, but still, there was something captivating about her that made me feel like throwing caution to the wind and trying to become a one-woman-man. Little did I know that I already was, but I was way too fucked up in the head to recognize it at the time. Waverly came as my plan B if Breesan didn’t turn out to be all that I had hoped…an easy lay. Thinking back on it now, I’m truly astonished about how ridiculous I was. The past couple of years, I couldn’t control my lust for any little hottie that shook her tight ass my direction. A lot of shit has changed since that night, and the only woman I will ever chase is Waverly…if I can ever get her back. My mood sours instantly, catching Tac’s attention.
“Ah, little brother, don’t look so sad. I’ll be your date.” I flip him off and he winks. “Stag it is!” He turns to Raithe and asks, “You up for it?”
“Nah, I already have a date.” Smirking proudly, Raithe shakes his head, “But you two have fun with that.”
“Kole, Rhys?” Tac laughs, waiting for their responses.
“Ah,” Kole peeks up from his cell phone that he’s been texting on for the past hour and shrugs. “Maybe? I’ll let you know, brother.”
“I think I’ll hang out here–” Rhys starts, but Sam spins around and jams her hands on her hips, giving him the ultra evil-eye. I’ve only seen such severity from one other woman before. My mother is the queen of the evil-eye, but I think my sweet sis just trumped her with this one.
“Oh, no you won’t!” Sam snarls at Rhys. “My grandparents are expecting you there, too! And do not tell me that you don’t have a thing to wear, because I know for a fact that you do.” She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes, challenging him to argue.
Throwing him a bone, I shout, “So stag, Rhys?”
“Nope,” Sam answers for him, “He will be my date.” Rhys winks slyly, but I catch it and I see red. What the hell is that all about?
Breesan laughs. “I think that’s a great idea, actually. The old man needs to get out for a change. And I hope he has something nicer than gothic attire.”
“If he says he doesn’t, we’ll buy it, too,” Sam tells her while not taking her eyes off Rhys.
Marcus comes back into the room, approaches Rhys and speaks to him in a whisper. No one pays them any attention, but something odd flashes across Rhys’ face. He looks confused, but after Marcus whispers something else, he simply shrugs and nods. Marcus turns to Breesan, whispering in her ear, too. She pokes out her bottom lip and he kisses it, but the pout remains, protesting whatever he shared.
“We’re leaving. She’ll see you in a couple of days to get her dress,” Marcus advises Sam while he takes Breesan by the hand and leads her out of the room. She waves at me as they pass and I turn my attention back to Rhys. He mouths something at Sam that looks an awful lot like I love you. On that, I put down my whiskey glass and call it a night. Apparently, I am pissed from drinking too much. Either that or I really am losing my damn mind, and hallucinating Waverly everywhere I look isn’t the only fucked up thing that I’m imagining.
Chapter Seventeen
Breesan
Irritation is the singular emotion that I’ve experienced over the past two days. Nothing else. Nothing! Since the meeting at Rhys’, Marcus has been MIA. Before dropping me back at my house, he told me without details that he had to leave for a few days. I’m sure it has something to do with Dr. A, but lately there’s been something…happening…something brewing…it just doesn’t feel right. And I’m extremely irritated.
Did I make a mistake moving this relationship so quickly with Marcus? I mean, we only just recently met, but we’ve shared and experienced so much together in the short amount of time that we’ve known each other. We are in love, but… perhaps I am being irrational. Seriously, he can’t spend every waking, or sleeping, moment with me. He has a real job. And it’s not like we’re married.
Ugh! I’m being a dumb girl again by letting this time apart make me crazy and questioning everything that we have.
“Knock, knock,” Sam sings from the front door. “B, where are you?” She calls me the nickname most people prefer, but each one reminds me of Tristan. I’m slowly accepting the heartbreaking situation of possibly never getting my Tristan back, but I don’t like it.
“Up here, Sam,” I shout from the doorway of my bedroom.
Sam enters my room looking like her casual and sexy self and I can’t help it, but right this moment I hate her. I hate all of them. I know it’s childish, and ridiculous or melodramatic, but really, everyone keeps me sheltered from the truth. Even the simplest truth, like where Marcus is exactly, is a mystery. Besides being pissy because of all the
ir lies, I’m sick after looking at her. Sam is wearing cute clothes and I look like someone dressed me in a burlap potato sack. Sure it’s all part of the disguise to keep me safe, but sometimes a girl wants to feel pretty and loved. All of this is so new to me and now that I’ve had a taste, I crave their relationships and Marcus’ attention. Is that so wrong?
“Let’s go! I have roughly three hours available before I have to check in for cousin duty again.”
“Oh?” I grab my ball cap, tucking my hair beneath it and slipping on my sunglasses. Incognito, yeah right; if a bad guy wants me bad enough, he could see right through this lame-ass disguise. Descending the stairs, I lock the door and what Sam said clicks. “Wait, who’s with Tristan?”
“Morgan volunteered to cousin-sit.” She stomps down the front steps and crosses the small pathway toward Morgan’s car. Apparently, she commandeered it. “That reminds me, I want to ask you something regarding him.”
Pulling on my seatbelt, I click it and turn toward her with an arched eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“Do you know what is really going on with my brother? Has he shared what happened in Vegas? Has he totally backed off on pursuing you?” She pauses and I can tell by the deep breath she’s taking that she wants to turn this into twenty questions, but I reply too quickly.
“Woah, Sam, whatever Morgan is going through is private. I don’t expect him to tell me anything, especially if it’s relationship-related. And I’m not sure the answers are any of your business either.”
“So, it is a chick…” Figuring Morgan’s issues out on her own, she trails off and I don’t offer anything more. Jeez, I’m so glad I don’t have siblings.
Driving through downtown, she grows quiet with her thoughts, which is perfectly fine. I’m dealing with my own issues and, honestly, unless she spills the beans on where my man is and what he’s doing, then I would prefer that we don’t speak. We park on the side of a small cottage-turned-dress-shop near midtown. Sam scans the area before confirming that everything is all clear and that it is safe for me to get out of the car. Rushing inside, we push our way through the throngs of mothers and daughters shopping for bridal dresses.
“Sonuvabitch,” Sam cusses under her breath. “I didn’t realize the place would be so busy. Apparently, there’s a sale today.” Oh joy! Warily, her eyes flit across all the women like she’s looking for someone specific.
My bad attitude aside, her sudden weirdness causes my nerves to get the better of me. “Should we leave?” I whisper anxiously.
“Good morning, ladies!” An excited mature woman, dressed in a plum two-piece dress suit, steps between me and Sam. The lady doesn’t seem to give a damn about invading our personal space bubbles, leaving me no choice but to step back. “Are you here to pick out the perfect dress for your big day?” Sam smirks at me, like she’s tempted to say yes so this old biddy will torture me with trying on wedding dresses. Sparring with Sam is on later if she puts me through that shit. She’s good, as good as Marcus, but I’ll beat her ass over a stunt like that.
“No.” She sounds so disappointed. I roll my eyes and huff out an obnoxious breath, spinning away from her before I can no longer hide my crazy. “We have an appointment with Gia.” Sam points toward a woman sitting behind the front desk, scouring through invitation books.
“That will be fine, dear. I’ll send her over immediately.”
“Gia’s the best,” Sam assures me as she turns toward a wall of billowy taffeta and lace where she begins plucking out dresses. “Size 4, right?” She guesses, looking me over. I nod and she thrusts a dress into my arms. “Keep the glasses on when we get into the back changing room. If anyone asks, tell them that you just left an ophthalmologist appointment and your eyes were dilated.”
“Not black.” I shove a shiny black satin dress back at her and she laughs.
“Yeah, I guess you’re sick of the Club Toxic-approved shade. You know I think we should look for…” She trails off as she moves around the corner searching for more dresses.
“Sam?” The woman she pointed out as our assistant for the day walks directly over toward me.
Sam pokes her head around the corner smiling. “Hey Gia, that’s Beatrice, and she is in desperate need of a dress for the anniversary party.” Sam shoves another dress into my arms, adding to the three I’m currently weighed down with.
“So great to meet you,” Gia smiles weakly while studying me with a strange look in her eyes. I’m sure no one dares come in this ritzy boutique dressed like a decaying refuge during an apocalypse. “Do you have something in mind?”
Attempting not to be rude, I stifle an eye roll because dress shopping is definitely not my thing. Anna, who has the God-given talent to dress anyone impeccably, always just gave me this stuff. Just another thing I took for granted about my precious best friend. Sighing, I shake my head and shift the heavy dresses, trying to get a better hold on the mound of poofiness.
“I think blue.” Sam snatches all the dresses away from me and proceeds to return each back to their spot on the rack.
Gia studies me for another moment and then suggests, “Baby blue.”
“Yes!” They cheer together.
Both women whirl around and embark on a search for the perfect dress, and I’m left standing alone, watching them work wordlessly and meticulously through tons of garments. The front room noise grows louder as more customers come seeking out discounted custom designer gowns. Tugging the bill of my hat down, I keep my back to the large group that walks back to where we’re standing.
“That one,” a sweet angelic voice tinkles behind me, cutting through the irritating murmur of twenty combined voices. I stay frozen in place, hoping that hiding in plain sight will protect me if I’m being watched.
With me being the only person dressed like I just rolled out from under my cardboard box home beneath the interstate overpass, I know I won’t go unnoticed, but maybe they’ll keep their distance. Spotting my reflection in a row of full-length mirrors, I can’t help but giggle at myself. I’m like the lone polka-dotted elephant, standing in the middle of a room full of grays, trying to hide myself by covering my hands over my eyes. Somehow I doubt the old saying “If I can’t see you then you won’t see me” will hold up.
“Did you hear me?” The voice is softer, but closer this time. I peek over my shoulder and see a silver-haired woman, dressed elegantly like most of the customers here, standing behind me with a genuine smile spreading across her flawless face.
“I’m sorry, were you speaking to me?” I step away as she reaches past me for a gown hanging on the closest rack.
“This one is perfect for your lovely coloring.” She holds out a baby blue ball gown that has silver and crystal accents all over the corset bodice. It really is beautiful, but I don’t know if I should wear something so breathtaking. It would mean that I might draw more attention than necessary.
“It’s beautiful.” I touch one of the clear jewels and smile at her. “But it’s too expensive.” I lie. With my new billionaire bank account I can afford it, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“I understand.” She smiles back at me, her blue eyes registering my meaning after she scans over my attire. She returns the dress to its home and then turns back to me. “Such a shame, that gown would surely make any man become your willing captive after getting one look at you in it,” she brings out the big guns. Of course I want to TKO Marcus. A large grin stretches across my face when she winks before turning and walking away. I watch her move toward the front of the shop and cross the large picture frame window, where I spot a familiar face passing by. Casandria is dressed nicely in a pale pink and white dress, crossing the street and then entering the bistro at the corner. She is seated instantly at a table that is already occupied. With the angle that they are positioned and the glare reflecting off the glass, I’m unable to see her companion.
“What is she up to?” I mumble to myself.
“What’s so interesting?” Sam peers over my shou
lder, her eyes searching the area in front of the restaurant.
“Oh, I thought I saw someone I recognized, but I’m not certain now,” I lie. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell Sam that Casandria is across the street having lunch with someone. Who could she possibly know here after being away for nearly twenty years? Although, she hasn’t been in hiding like me. I suppose she could have met a guy and they’re just having a simple lunch date. Uneasiness settles in my stomach, but I force it away and turn toward Sam.
Sam narrows her eyes and her demeanor becomes rigid. “Try these on.” She pushes dresses into my arms and then physically turns me toward the dressing room. Reaching for the door handle, I glance over my shoulder and see Sam still glaring out the window while digging out her phone from her purse.
Before slipping inside the small changing cubical, I hear her demand, “Call me back, ASAP!”
After four costume changes, Sam is either distracted by something out front or bored with our shopping trip. Each time I try on a dress she glances at me, nods and then her attention goes right back out the window. Could she be worried about what my mother is doing? That just doesn’t seem logical given the fact that she hasn’t shown any interest until today. Whatever her problem is, I just wish she would call it a day and release me from this menial task.
Ready to get this whole crappy shopping spree over with, I pluck a dress off one of the racks and ask for the consultant’s assistance. I don’t bother checking my reflection in the tiny changing room as I exit. Without alerting Sam to my presence, I step onto the small square box placed in front of the bay of mirrors. I pull the hair band from my long tresses, running my fingers through it to control some of the chaos. Keeping on the required sunglasses and with my back to the mirror, I call Sam’s name. Reluctantly, she snaps her attention away from the window and I prepare for another quick look, expecting her standard nod and dismissal, but what I wasn’t prepared for was her to leave her station and come over.