I decided that a cup of coffee with the seemingly interesting man wouldn’t be a big deal. Without a doubt, I wouldn’t mind getting to spend a little more time with my rescuer.
As we walked to the café, the streetlights began to turn on. He opened the door to the old-school Italian joint, and we grabbed a table by the window. The coffee was tasty, and I really wanted to get a slice of one of those cakes in the case, but I was too embarrassed. They looked amazing and were drool-worthy, much like the man that was sitting across from me.
In all honesty, I could have gone for some chocolate frosting right at that moment. Just a spoon and a bowl of frosting would have made this girl happy; maybe even licking chocolate frosting off of Captain Hotstuff’s abdomen. Now that would have made me really happy.
We chatted for a couple hours. It was an amazing night, ending with a grungy tow truck driver who smelled like a cross between body odor and leftover pizza that’s been lingering in your fridge for a few days. Once my tire was changed and I forked over half of my last check, Henry gave me his number and we said our goodbyes. He gave me a quick embrace and kissed me on the cheek. Goddamn, his lips were so soft that I was jealous. He smelled so damn good, too. I would have jumped him right there if I had any nerve.
I had to find my phone so I could call him. I skipped back to the bookshop the next morning, and the hag owner said some hot guy dropped it off. She said he found it on the street in front of the store. Whatever. I was glad to have it back so I could call him.
-October 2014-
Obviously, things worked out.
Henry was the complete opposite of me. I had a tendency to be loud, obnoxious, had a mouth like a truck driver, and sarcasm was my natural tone. He was proper and quiet.
I owned sarcasm. He always told me that he and I were the perfect pair. I had to agree. He smoothed out my raw edges, and I encouraged him to walk a little bit on the wild side. Or so I thought.
I wasn’t one hundred percent sold on what Henry said his job was. He said he ran the blood bank in town, and I did visit him at work a few times so I know that was his place of employment. Although, I wondered how it was possible for him to be so loaded when he only managed a blood bank.
When I asked him questions about his wealth, he would skirt around the subject or just ignore the question. He always had nice things, and bought me even nicer things. Money was no object and when we shopped, he would pull out that fancy, ‘invite-only’ black credit card and pay for everything with a brilliant smile.
My engagement ring alone must have set him back more than a swanky New York City apartment. It was six carats of pure Tiffany beauty, my favorite jewelry store. I was almost afraid to wear it in public, but he was my very own personal bodyguard.
I remember one night when the protector in him came out. We were at one of our usual boozy hangouts. Henry could drink anyone under the table. Lush doesn’t even describe it. He impressed every one of my friends with his uncanny ability.
I was taking a break from dancing when some creepy guy pinned me up against the wall. He tried to stick his hands in places I would only allow Henry or my gynecologist to touch.
It all happened so fast. Henry was across the bar and in a flash, had the douchebag by the throat against the wall. He lifted him off the floor on to his tip toes, choking the life out of him with one hand. It took me a little time to get him to let go of the pervert.
It was weird. It was like he changed into a totally different person in the snap of a finger. I figured it was the whiskey muscles taking over. That was the first time I saw him lose his cool, and I hoped it would be the last. On a serious level, it scared the shit out of me.
Anyway, about the whole job thing. Who was I to judge? I couldn’t hold down a job to save my life. Sadly, my parents had been paying my rent for quite some time. It was shameful, really, but I just couldn’t bite my tongue all the time. Every time I lost yet another job, I would get the “We aren’t going to be around forever to take care of you, Elaina” lecture.
A year after we met, Henry brought me back to Gemelli’s and proposed. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe a man of his caliber would even date me, let alone ask me to marry him. Once I croaked out the word yes, the crowded café erupted in applause.
The moment I mentioned the ring to my mom, the wedding planning started.
What a fucking epic nightmare that was! The flamboyant planner, a David Tutera want-to-be, had a vision which we weren’t seeing eye-to-eye with. Finally, I gave up. I let everyone do whatever the hell they wanted. I just smiled and nodded, all the while saying fuck you in my head.
The whole wedding wasn’t about what Henry and I wanted. It was more about everyone else, meaning my mother, getting what they wanted. I barely had a say in my dress!
I hate dresses. I’m so not a dress kind of girl. I would have been happy in a tank top and shorts with a pair of Jesus creepers on my feet. I may have even gone as far as a flowy skirt, if I was feeling a little wild.
Have I mentioned that I hate weddings? I mean, come on, people! Why spend tens of thousands of dollars when I could have picked out something from my closet, strolled down to the beach, and had the Justice of the Peace marry us. We were desperate for a simple wedding but, again, it wasn’t about what we wanted.
Poor Henry had to suffer right along with me. He tried to stay out of the drama, but he also wanted to see me get at least one thing that I wanted. I think I tore his head off more than a few times. He deserved a medal of highest order after dealing with me…and my mother.
I should have focused my anger on something more like a punching bag with my mother’s face on it, instead of going mental on him. He was a good sport, though, taking everything in stride. He even went to bat for me a few times, even though he knew it was a losing battle. Thankfully, he still loved me, with or without my drama.
Anyway, so there I was, counting down the minutes until I could take off those stupid shoes, when I heard several screams coming from the congregational seating area. I looked at my father, who shrugged.
What now, I thought. Were the pews not quite the correct color wood, or were the flowers drooping? The bows? Maybe they were crushed some? I rolled my eyes, thinking about what a clusterfuck the wedding planning had turned out to be.
As my father started to pull open the door to check out what was going on, I heard more people screaming. Then I heard my brother, Nick, yelling “Run!” over and over again. It’s hard to believe that someone could possibly be more dramatic than me, but he was worse than a Lifetime movie. It was always zero to sixty with him. At least I gave it a few seconds before I acted like a complete psychotic nut job.
Nick was a couple years older than me but, at times, he acted like he was a decade younger. I wondered when, or if, he was going to grow up. An ironic statement coming from me, but whatever. Unfortunately, we looked like each other so I couldn’t deny that we were related.
I sighed. Then I realized people were going completely insane in there!
“Dad, what’s happening?” I said in an irritated tone while picking at my bouquet full of flowers, which I had a great dislike for. He closed the door in haste and looked at me. He was white. Not like the “old guy who stayed out of the sun” white, but white with fear.
My father was a strong man. I always counted on him to say the right things at the right times. At that moment, he was speechless, which filled me with some serious concern.
“Dad? Say something.”
“I…I, uh…” He couldn’t formulate a sentence so I pushed him out of the way. I needed to see for myself. I wasn’t always polite. Combine that with my slight impatience issues, and I could be a little obnoxious.
The screaming was turning panicky, and I could hear people scrambling. I burst through the door and all I saw was our family and friends running around like maniacs. I was looking for Henry when I locked eyes with my Maid of Honor/best friend, Claire James, who was running toward the corridor where my father and I
were waiting.
She was beautiful in her Tiffany blue dress. It looked stunning against her pale skin and ginger hair. The bridesmaid’s dress color was my choice. Only after hours of pissing and moaning did my mother finally relent to the blue. Claire was barreling toward me. “Oh, my god, Elaina! Oh, my god!” She grabbed me and started sobbing.
“I’m going to go find your mother.” My dad ran his hand over my shoulder and took off into the congregational area. All of our family and friends were running around, freaking out, trying to get out of the church. I could hear this weird growling/snarling sound, coupled with the screaming. I still couldn’t see where the sounds were coming from. I grabbed Claire by the shoulders and shook her.
“Claire, what the fuck is going on?” She could do nothing but look at me with tears streaming down her face, taking her mascara with them. I started shaking her more. “Snap out of it, Claire!” She took a couple of staggered breaths. Meanwhile, the church was clearing out and I was holding Claire by the shoulders, standing still. I felt like time had stopped for us, but everyone else was moving in fast forward.
“The pastor…the pastor, he…” And then Henry came running up, not looking half as panicked as everyone else. In fact, he looked to be rather in control. It was quite odd but, for the most part, he seemed to be in check of his emotions.
“Henry, what the fuck is going on?” I sounded like a broken record. I looked back and forth between the two of them. “Damn it! Will one of you say something?” I was beyond pissed. They must have forgotten that I rate a zero on the patience scale. Then I noticed they both had red splatters all over them. “What is that?” I reached out to touch the wet, red speckles on Henry’s face. He turned his head away so I couldn’t.
“Elaina, we need to get you out of here. Go to the limo. Once you get there, lock the doors and stay put, no matter what. Do not leave the limo under any circumstances. Do you understand me?”
Bossy, bossy, I thought. He knew I didn’t take kindly to commands, except when we were in bed together. “Why?” I crossed my arms. Cue four-year-old Elaina. “I refuse to go anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is happening!” There. I could be bossy, as well. I almost felt like sticking my tongue out at him, too. My maturity spoke volumes about me.
Henry’s face twisted into an angry snarl. He grabbed me by the wrist and started dragging me out the door. That was unusual behavior for him. I looked back and saw Claire just standing there, still looking stunned.
“Will you let go of me?” I broke his grip and ran back to Claire. Well, I didn’t really run with those stupid shoes on, but I hustled my butt back to her the best that I could in four-inch heels.
“Damn it, Elaina! Come on! There’s no time!” Henry chased after me. I grabbed Claire by the wrist and Henry grabbed my arm. “Let’s go, you two. Now!” He dragged us through the crowd of screaming, panicking family and friends.
“Wait!” I screamed and stopped in my tracks. Henry stopped just short of pulling me over and making me face-plant onto the steps of the church.
“No, we need to go! You don’t understand! There’s no time!” What was with his behavior? He was acting like that mental uncle that we all have. Actually, in my case, that would be my Aunt Lisa. She takes cuckoo to a whole new level.
“I need to get these fucking shoes off if you want me to run!” At that point, I couldn’t even hear myself think because the noise level was so high from the pandemonium all around us. People were pushing and shoving, trying to escape the surreal scene. It was like a herd of elephants trying to push through a mouse-sized door.
I kicked my stupid shoes off, hoisted up my dress, and started to run, as instructed, to the limo, making sure Claire was keeping up. Luckily, she was an expert in heels. She could run a marathon in them. We got to the limo and Henry opened the door.
“Now, please, I need you to listen to me. Do not open these doors for anyone. I need you to stay here. I will be back in a few and we can get out of here. I will explain everything later.”
“But I can’t open the door for you?” I batted my eyelashes at him. My cuteness wasn’t desirable at the moment. Henry threw his arms up in the air. “But you just said…” He cut me off. I hated it when he did that!
“No time for your smart ass comments right now. Open the fucking door for me and me only! Okay?!” Henry was officially pissed. He was shouting at me, and he looked as if he was ready to punch something. It alarmed me a little. That wasn’t the Henry that I knew and was about to marry.
We barely made it through the door, me in that god-awful wedding dress and Claire in her Maid of Honor dress, before he slammed it shut. After his resounding “Okay?!” he made a mad dash back to the church.
I maneuvered my way around the limo, locking all the doors as instructed. I started to wonder why the driver wasn’t there. Oh, well. Under Henry’s command, I wouldn’t be opening the door for the driver, either. So I just shrugged my shoulders and sat down. Claire moved closer to me and she started to sob in her hands.
“Claire, please tell me what happened. Tell me what is going on.” I handed her my hanky that I had safely tucked in my annoying strapless bra. I hoped it wasn’t too sweaty. To be honest, I don’t think she would have cared at that point.
“It was horrible!” She was trying to speak between her sobs. “I have never seen anything like it.”
“Anything like what? What, Claire?” People were trying to open the limo doors and were banging on the windows, leaving bloody handprints, crying for help. Some looked like they had huge gashes on their bodies and torn skin. I shivered. I hate blood. Then I thought, Wait, blood? It finally dawned on me.
“Claire, is that blood on you?” I got closer to her, trying to see if I was right.
“Yes!” she yelled and I jumped back. Seriously, there was no need to yell in such a confined area. “We’re going to die. All of us. Everyone.” She bent down, put her face in her hands, and sobbed some more.
“Okay, Claire, I need you to tell me what you saw,” I pleaded with her. Obviously, it was a good time to become concerned. I started stroking her hair. “Please, Claire. It’s my wedding, my family, Henry’s family and our friends. I need to know what happened so we can figure out what to do.”
Claire lifted her head and tried to gather herself as best as she could. “The pastor,” she whispered and then she paused for a second to take a breath. “He staggered to the podium. Initially, I thought he had been drinking or something. But then he lunged at Marc. He’s gone!”
Oh, my god…Marc! How could I have forgotten about him? The tears were running down her face and collecting on her chest.
Marc was Claire’s long-time beau. Keyword: was. Marc was a great guy. He was a Harvard graduate, top of his class. He was so sweet to Claire. He loved her with all his heart as she loved him with almost all of hers. I had some belief left that she was still hung up on my brother. But that is an entirely different story, meant for another time.
“He lunged at Marc? Why would he do such a thing?” I was baffled. The situation was getting weirder by the second.
“He bit him, tore out his throat.” She could barely get the words out.
I grabbed her and made her look at me. It was like pulling teeth trying to get information out of her. “Tore out his throat? Like, with his teeth?”
“Yes!” She looked like a Goth kid from the early nineties with all her mascara running down her face.
“Oh, my god,” I whispered. It finally hit me that everyone was in danger. My family, my friends, my future family were all in real danger. I couldn’t just sit there and watch the chaos that was unfolding before us. “Claire, stay here. I need to go find Henry.” I started for the door, but she grabbed me by the corset ties of my dress. I heard a tear.
“No! I will not let you go out there. Henry said to stay here and that’s what we’re doing!” Claire was pissed and crying at the same time. It was a combination that no one should fuck with, but this was me we are
talking about here. “I just lost Marc and, damn it, I am not losing my best friend, as well!” My jaw dropped. Look who was wearing the bossy pants now. The ever polite and ever proper, Ms. Claire James.
I missed that day in etiquette school. She wouldn’t dare say “ass”, even while referring to a donkey. She knew all the proper table manners for all those hoity-toity restaurants, while I was happy if I didn't get the dripping grease on my shirt from a bacon cheeseburger from the local burger joint. Etiquette was so overrated.
“Really, Claire? Really?”
“Yes! You are staying here with me, just like Henry said!”
“He’s in danger! I need to find him so we can gather our families and get the fuck out of here!”
“I understand you, but you can’t. You just can’t!” Claire fell apart again, kind of like my dress was starting to after she tried to stop me from leaving the limo. I didn’t know what to do. “Please, Elaina. Stay. Stay with me. I’m so scared.”
Through the bloody windows of the limo, I saw Pastor Jones stagger out of the church, blood dripping from his mouth, and stumble down the stairs. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was all in slow motion. I didn’t hear anything. All I could see was Henry running up behind him with his arm straight out like he was aiming a gun.
Wait, he had a gun? What the fuck? Where did he get a gun? With one shot, Pastor Jones’ head exploded and his body hit the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes.
I had no emotion. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the scene that was replaying in my head. It was as if I kept rewinding and pressing play. I had no idea that Claire was screaming right next to me. I wondered if Henry would go to Hell for killing a pastor. Then I felt my stomach give. I buckled over on to the limo floor and heaved. Did I mention I hate blood, guts, and anything gory?
The sound of Claire screaming and grabbing at me brought me back from my vomit-fest. She was looking out the window behind us. I turned around and there was our limo driver, Ray, tearing out Henry’s father’s throat. I turned back to find Henry again, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I started to panic. My body began to shake. I was so fucking scared.
Broken Dreams Page 5