Billionaire Protector

by Kyanna Skye

  “Oh!” he half-cried and nudged his sister, who laughed at him. “Hundreds of professional comedians are begging for work and here you are making bad jokes… I should report you to someone.”

  Susie shrugged. “Good luck with that.”

  Chad looked back to her. “Sorry about my sister, Kelly. She’s become accustomed to living in Hollywood and thinking that everything is about her. I blame our parents for that… they got her started thinking that way.”

  “Brat,” Susie berated him. “That’s big talk coming from the one that mom and dad put every penny into making sure you went to school for football. Now look at you. Who’s spoiled?”

  He played thoughtfully for a moment. “Mom and dad? Look at the house they live in now.”

  Susie was pensive for a moment. Flatly she replied, “Good point. It’s bigger than my apartment.”

  “The west wing is bigger than my house in L.A.”

  “The one you barely live in?”

  “Yeah… that one.” He looked back to Kelly. “So… what brings you here?”

  Susie sat forward eagerly before Kelly could respond. “Oh! I was just asking Kelly to be my maid of honor.”

  Chad’s eyes brightened. “Did you?” To Kelly he said, “Are you?”

  Kelly felt like an ant put under a focused magnifying lens. She felt like she could burst into flame from so much focused attention. It was obvious that Chad had kept his promise and not told his sister anything that they had shared – yesterday or from years before – and she felt gratitude towards him for that. And here he was, playing the dumb jock and not for the sake of his sister, she knew… but for her.

  A small twist of appreciation was wrenched from her heart for him for that.

  She sighed, trying to make it look comical and resigned, “Yeah… ok.”

  Susie squealed and tapped her feet on the floor excitedly. She planted her nearly-empty glass of brandy on the marble coffee table and rounded it to pull Kelly to her feet and hugged her tightly. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

  “Ok, ease up, ease up,” Kelly said, feeling genuine honor and pride. “If you thank me too much I might decide to take it back.”

  Susie made no reply to that except to say, “This is going to be a fucking treat!”

  “I’m already terrified,” Chad said, standing up. “And not to nitpick, sissy, but isn’t it kind of late to be choosing a maid of honor?”

  Susie rolled her eyes at her brother. “No, it’s not… half the shit we need to do still isn’t done. Putting the bridal party together will be a cinch.”

  “Pun intended?” Chad asked.

  “Ha ha, so funny,” Susie shot back.

  “Oh!” Chad said, getting to his feet. “In the way of needing things, maybe you can help me, Kelly.”

  She felt a shard of ice form in her belly. “Me?”

  He nodded. “I don’t have a date for the rehearsal dinner… or the wedding comes to think of it. Would you be willing to be on my arm for both?”

  For the third time today, Kelly’s belly did a backflip, but this time it added an extra two somersaults to its routine and failed miserably to stick the landing. Chad’s face wasn’t filled with a smug or sneaky look of any kind. Something like this reminded her of a mischievous child that had just lulled an inattentive adult into some kind of a trick. It was genuine… honest… even hopeful. He reminded her of the boy she had known years before… when he hadn’t been like he was now. It was like seeing a fleshy shadow of the past. And she didn’t mind looking at it.

  Something stirred within her that felt warm and familiar. Something that provided comfort in a part of her heart that had only been cold and abandoned for years now. It was something that she hadn’t expected to feel today… or ever again.

  “Now that is a fucking good idea!” Susie boomed. “You’ve already admitted that you don’t have a significant other, in any capacity,” she added pointedly. “And I’m not going to let my own brother or my best friend sit at the single’s table at my wedding.” She clapped her hands like a sultana summoning slaves. “It’s a done deal!”

  Kelly felt flabbergasted. “What? Wait…!”

  “No, it’s done, sweetie,” Susie said definitively. “Chad is already going to be Francis’ best man – his real best friend is somewhere in Turkey – and I like the symmetry of the best man and the maid of honor being each other’s dates.”

  “Susie…”

  “It’s my wedding,” Susie said, her voice dropping an octave and becoming a tad threatening. “And I say it’s a done deal.”

  Kelly only stood there with her jaw nearly touching the floor.

  “Say ‘Yes, Susie.’”

  Kelly looked at her best friend, feeling as though she had just been doused in sheep’s blood and thrown into a tank of hungry sharks. How could Susie do this to her? It’s simple… Susie doesn’t know what happened that night. A twist formed in the heart. Neither does Chad… not really.

  She looked at the man that stood next to her best friend. Part of her couldn’t get past the idea that he had planned this somehow. He knew that she, Kelly, wouldn’t refuse her best friend if she couldn’t help it. And it seemed to her mind that he had kept her secret and played the ignorant and distant brother for her sake more than for his sister’s. And that somewhere in the back of his mind he had resolved that she would owe him for that.

  Damn it.

  “Yes, Susie,” she said, her voice a little flat.

  Susie smiled.

  Chad smirked.

  Kelly drank the last of her brandy.

  Chapter 7

  Slick’s Tavern wasn’t high on the list places that Chad cared to visit while he was here, but after a day like today he felt like there was no better option. As a child he’d always been taught that it was a place to avoid where only the most drunken and scummiest of people dwelled. That had always been enough to keep him from wanting to go there… as a child. But as an adult, he felt like there was no place better for him to be just now.

  He needed a drink. Sure, there was plenty of booze to be had at Cinch Manor but he preferred to drink somewhere outside of the sight of his family. He had a lot on his mind and he didn’t care to share his thoughts – drunken as they were sure to become – with anyone at the house. Slick’s was only a car ride away and ironically it offered a comfortable amount of anonymity.

  He sat alone in a booth with his back to the far wall, absorbed in his own thoughts. He was grateful for the solitude, at least for the moment. The only company he had was the waitress who occasionally brought him a fresh drink every now and again. And he’d noticed that after his second drink, she paused, her eyes lingering on his face though he pretended not to notice. Aside from the waitress, no one here had seemed to recognize him and was thankful for that. There had been times when he’d enjoyed the fame that his career had brought him. But now, he craved isolation.

  The tavern was dimly lit, as most taverns tended to be, and as he’d walked in tonight the crunch of peanut shells under his feet had been rivaled only by the sound of the music playing on the overhead speakers and the conversations of the numerous patrons that had droned on as he’d entered unmarked by everyone else in the place.

  That alone had made him think that this place was the perfect locale to sit quietly and grease the wheels of his mind. But unfortunately, the only thing that seemed to be coming to him at all was how terribly he had fucked things up for himself today. Him… Kelly… he’d made a shit sandwich out of the whole thing when he’d been hoping for…

  He paused at that thought.

  Shit, he thought wryly, I don’t even know what I was hoping for.

  He just couldn’t figure Kelly out. Sure, maybe he could have gone about it all a different way, but goddamn it… he didn’t know what else to do. Fuck, he’d known hundreds of girls who would have thrown themselves at him for the chance to be his wedding date. That nameless girl he’d left in
his hotel room on the other side of the country and jumped at the chance to be so close to him for such a formal occasion. And then here was Kelly. He had an honest, if not strange history with her, and yet she seemed determined to keep away from him at every chance she could get.

  He had thought that asking her to be his date to the wedding was, well… romantic. But apparently Susie was the only one who thought so now, and that was largely because she wasn’t in possession of all of the facts. After he’d pounced on Kelly with that suggestion her reactions toward him had gone from being cold and angry to just being downright indifferent. It was as if she suddenly didn’t care if he stopped breathing and dropped dead on the spot.

  He would have preferred her to be cold and angry towards him. At least then he would have known how and what she was feeling. He felt alienated now. He wasn’t accustomed to being ignored. And somehow, that Kelly treated him that way made him focus on her all the more, strange as that sounded.

  He’d tried to be polite. He’d tried to be charming and not in his usual bad boy kind of way. He’d laughed at her jokes. He tried to talk about the old days. He’d tried to strike up conversations that were half-intellectual, though he wound up looking stupider for trying. He’d sat next to her, but maintained a respectful distance to show that he had no foul intentions. He’d tried to keep close to her for the whole of her visit, even to the point of offering to drive her home – to the “hotel” that she maintained she was staying at, for Susie’s sake – and he’d gotten nothing.

  When they had finally had a moment alone, right as she was leaving the grounds, all she had said to him was, “Thanks for not saying anything. Please let me make my own way home.” And she had said it with such determination that a 300 lb. charging linebacker would have seemed less intimidating.

  “Shit,” he muttered as pulled his boilermaker towards his lips. The cold drink went down easily and it dulled his senses just enough to the point where he didn’t feel so bad. And again, the irony of his situation washed over him. Bad Chad… the great heartbreaker… felt like he was getting his own heart broken.

  Am I? I mean, am I really getting my heart broken? It was a valid enough question. Heartbreak required that the other person in a relationship – Ha! We don’t even have one! – had cared at all about him. That being the case, was he really experiencing heartbreak here? He’d asked himself the same question over and over again with every mug that he’d tipped back. By the end of his third brew his head had become so fogged that it felt like he was actually beginning to forget about his current conundrum.

  That’s progress for you, he thought.

  He stared at the golden liquid in his mug, watching the bubbles slowly dance their way up the glass. And each little bubble seemed to carry old memories up with them to the surface. Memories went through his mind faster than watching a subway car speed by. He tried to hang on to them, but they slipped away and popped more easily than those same carbonated bubbles he was watching in his glass.

  He remembered Kelly… Susie’s party… dancing with her… other girls that had been there weren’t there for Susie, not all of them. They had come for him, some of them. But somehow, his mind was set only on Kelly. The other girls had noticed that and they fixed Kelly with looks of absolute loathing. He remembered bringing her a cup of punch… sitting out on the front steps… thanking her for helping him with school… some innocent laughter between them…

  He remembered the warmth of her lips as they pressed against his. So warm… so tender… so inviting… and a strange sensation filling him up like drink took over him and he had wanted more. No girl that he had ever been with had made him feel like that. He’d wanted something from them, sure. But that had always felt like wanting a piece of candy; the experience was sweet, quick, and then it was done with. But Kelly… she was the only one that he’d ever met where he’d felt like he couldn’t get enough.

  And that’s what I remember about her.

  The memory hung before his eyes like a worm on a hook. He was tempted to take it, but doing so might mean getting caught up in something that would take him completely out of his element. It was both exciting… and terrifying.

  More memories came to him.

  He remembered holding her hand… gently avoiding the eyes of others at the party as they slipped away… his old room. She had been the one to lock the door. She had stripped away his shirt… his jeans. He’d pulled off her shorts… her bra… their hands had explored each other’s bodies hungrily. The kissing… the moistness of her body as it had pressed against his… the soft and gentle moans she had made…

  “Fuck!” he grumbled through clenched teeth, squeezing his mug so tightly that the glass cracked. The mug didn’t shatter, but the wet feeling of beer as it poured over his fingers focused his thoughts. His eyes went to the mug and the golden liquid slowly seeped out through the cracks in the glass where his fingers had bitten into it. The liquid pooled across the table that he sat at and slowly streamed and poured over the edge, soaked up by the dusty shells on the floor.

  He pulled his hand way, seeing only a minor cut on his palm. The beer gently dripped from off his hand, gently mingling with a single droplet of blood there. The alcohol didn’t even sting.

  “My god, are you okay?” asked a woman’s voice that drew his attention.

  He looked and saw the waitress that had been serving him approaching. He took in the full measure of her for the first time since he’d been sitting here. She wore a pair of jean shorts that had been cut Daisy-Duke-style and wore a Harley Davidson t-shirt that was cut low at the neck to show an incredible amount of cleavage and he noticed that she had chosen to come to work braless tonight. Around her waist was an apron that gave him a jolt, reminding him of the uniform that Kelly had worn at her diner. Her hair was dark and curly and she had a figure that would have made him lustful if he were somewhere other than his hometown.

  The dark haired woman pulled a towel from the pocket of her apron and pressed it against his injury. He was drunk, he knew it, but he also knew that the wound didn’t merit this kind of attention. If he’d gone to the bathroom and let the faucet run over his hand for thirty seconds the damage would be contained.

  “There you go,” she said, her voice becoming smooth as silk. She paused, looking at him. Her eyes flitted over his face and a look of sultry intention formed there. He knew what she was and she knew who he was in turn. By the way her eyes combed over his features he could tell what her intentions were. “Hey… you look familiar.”

  Bet she’s been waiting all damn night to use that line, he thought bitterly.

  “You’re… Chad? Chad Cinch, aren’t you?” She said it so softly that he could tell she was afraid that someone might overhear her. She was like a dog being greedy with a bone that she intended to snatch from other alley dogs and keep all to herself.

  He didn’t answer.

  The waitress slowly slunk her way onto the seat opposite him, her fingers gently clasping at his bare skin more than holding the towel to his palm. Her eyes were full of desire and he almost laughed as she straightened her back, allowing her low cut shirt to show him the shape of her tits.

  “I’m a big fan,” she said, her voice remaining low. “I never miss your games.”

  “That right?”

  She nodded. “It’s always incredible to me how you move.” She bit her lip and smiled suggestively. “Not a single fumble this season… you must be very good with your hands.” She gently turned her head sideways and indicated the door. “You know, my shift is up in about ten minutes. Maybe we could…?”

  Maybe it was the beer, but suddenly he was feeling sick. He pulled his hands free from the waitresses and looked at his watch. “Sorry, I have someplace I need to be.”

  Her look soured, like he had just announced to everyone in the bar that her tits were too small. “You do? Where?”

  He pushed himself up out of the booth and dropped her slightly-soiled towel on the table. “Someplace importa
nt.” He fished a $50 out of his pocket and dropped it on the table in front of her. “Thanks for the drinks.”

  He turned and headed off determinedly for the door. The privacy and anonymity of this place had suddenly gone and he was resolved to be gone just as quickly. Though he slightly wobbled he managed to get the door without interference from anyone and stepped into the slightly cooler night air of Holy Oaks.

  I wasn’t lying, he told himself as he stumbled to his truck and started the engine. I do have someplace important to be. Unsure of what it was that he was planning to do once he got there he drove off for the Hathaway apartments.

  The trip was quick, taking less than five minutes.

  He pulled his truck into a vacant spot on the street and half stumbled up to the lobby door. He was surprised to find that the lobby wasn’t locked. Most cities that he’d been to, usually accompanied by another one of his trophy one-night-stands, there was always some kind of lobby security measures in place.

  It’s Holy Oaks, he reminded himself. Everyone trusts each other here.

  He found a bank of call buttons in the lobby beside a wall of mail boxes. Mail! He realized it like a kick in the nuts, Kelly’s name’s got to be on one of these! He leaned against the wall, his fingers and eyes tracing every name on every box that was present. He grunted in frustration when he didn’t find Kelly’s name on any of them. Some of them didn’t have names on them at all. It’s Holy Oaks, he reminded himself bitterly.

  His eyes fell to the call buttons and a wild idea struck him. It was a wild thought… but perhaps a brilliant one… and one that could lead to some embarrassment.

  “Fuck it.”

  As if he were tracing a line down the bank of plastic buttons he ran his index finger over each and every one of them. Mechanical buzzes rang out like a chorus of angry mechanized bees until he reached the bottom, indicator lights flashed an angry red next to each button showing that a phone was ringing somewhere in the apartment building. At first, there was no response. He did it again, his second attempt yielded fruit and a cacophony of angry voices reached out to him over the intercom.