Abandon All Hope

by M. J. Schiller

  She had promised herself not to ever let anyone have that power over her again; yet, here she was, letting those same feelings resurface.

  I can’t believe I’m letting my emotions run away with me like this. It’s like I’m eighteen all over again. Haven’t I learned anything?

  To her relief, the limo pulled up to a big building and came to a stop. Chase got out and held the door for her, but remained distant. Which is fine with me, she told herself.

  When they got inside the atrium of the Zulu Records building, several men approached their party, greeting them warmly. Hope faded into the background while they conducted their initial business. She wandered off and started shooting pictures of the impressive interior of the building. It was all light and glass and brass, the lobby open up to the top of the building.

  Chase watched her as she ambled around, snapping shots. She may as well have still been taking pictures for the Lincoln High School Lincs News. He could see her focusing on architectural details, like a bee hovering over a flower. He knew most of these pictures were for her personal collection, the newspaper wouldn’t be interested in these more artsy photos she was taking. But he also knew she just had to capture the things she saw that pleased her, gold filigree around the elevator, an antique mail chute, which was for display only, a shadow on the atrium floor.

  Hal and the producer started down a hallway, and Chase followed, keeping half an eye on Hope. Hope noticed their movement out of the corner of an eye, and left her study of a unique light fixture to trot after them. When they entered the large set that had been put together for the shoot, her spellbinding eyes lit up like a child’s. Chase had gotten used to the glamour and glitz, having done five videos before this one, but now he enjoyed seeing it all anew through her eyes.

  The room within the room, which all the big lights and cameras were focused on, was set up as a ballroom. Lush red carpeting with gold vines forming a diamond pattern outlined the room. Tables were draped with starched tablecloths, and behind these lay a polished wood dance floor. A few men in white tuxedoes with black ties were already tuning up instruments on the stage at the far side of the room. Actors and actresses milled about dressed in ballroom gowns and tuxes, killing time before the shoot.

  Chase could tell Hope had forgotten all about anything else. She roamed around, snapping pictures of ladies in black dresses, and men in animated discussions, standing with their feet up on chairs as they leaned in to make a point. She had a gift for these types of candid shots, shots which captured the mood of a subject without them even knowing they had been photographed.

  Hope snapped a shot of a woman wearing a long, sapphire dress. The gown pooled around the slender woman’s feet as she stood pulling back the heavy, velvet drapes from a window. She had dark hair, pulled up and plaited elaborately on top of her head. Light streamed in the window, making her glow. With bright red lipstick on, the woman stood, her large, dark eyes searching pensively out the window for what Hope imagined to be her lover, arriving late for the party.

  Swinging her camera around, Hope refocused it on the next image, only to find the lens had captured Chase. He had changed into a black tuxedo with a white shirt and a short tab collar over a wide silver tie. She pulled her eye away from the viewfinder as if it had burned her, and then lowered her camera to gawk at him for a minute. Chase was unaware she was observing him. He spoke to a man in blue jeans and a blue jean shirt. Probably the producer, Hope guessed. Slowly, she brought the camera back up to her eye. She began to take picture after picture of Chase, pictures of him laughing, pictures of him wearing a serious expression. She was so caught up in this, she almost missed the girl who came barreling in from out of nowhere.

  The woman threw her arms around what looked like a surprised Chase and planted a passionate kiss on him. Hope’s camera came down, along with her jaw, as she stared at this newcomer. She was tall, almost as tall as Chase, with a striking jade-colored satin dress on. Before Chase even had time to react to her exuberant greeting, Hal rushed over.

  “Jennifer. How are you?”

  “Great, Hal. How the hell are you?” The woman spoke in an overly loud voice and seemed to sway a little on her feet. Chase put a hand on the small of her back to steady her, where the crisscross lattice work of the top part of the dress ended and a deep oval cutout left skin bare.

  “Jen—” Chase began, but she grabbed his face.

  “You are just as hot as ever.” She locked her lips over his again.

  Chase stepped back, taking her hands gently from the sides of his face and holding them. His cheeks turned red, and he glanced around the room nervously, catching Hope’s eyes for a second.

  Hope felt cold, her stomach sinking as if she had swallowed a boulder whole. She took a few unsteady steps backward, and then turned away, marching across the room. She stopped suddenly, unsure of where she was even going. Hope heard Chase’s calm voice speaking quietly, “Jen, what’s wrong? You seem upset?”

  Hearing the sound of weeping, Hope turned to see Chase’s arms folded protectively around the young woman, whose shoulders were shaking. “I’m sorry, Chase.”

  Chase glanced at the producer. “Is there someplace private we could go to talk?”

  “Sure.” The man started to lead them off. Chase glanced in Hope’s direction, but she could not read his expression.

  Hal was visibly upset. Hope could hear bits and pieces of his conversation with another man who appeared to be on the crew. “She’s obviously drunk. What are we going to do? We have twenty people here, plus the crew. How are we going to find somebody at this late date?” After a minute, he stormed off in the direction Chase had taken.

  Hope sat down on the edge of the stage, feeling tired. She fiddled with her camera, trying not to dwell on the image she’d just seen and on the fact that it mirrored her prom night, but she couldn’t help herself.

  It was prom night. She and Chase had been dating for several months and had become pretty much inseparable. They studied together, went to games together, sometimes just sat and watched TV together. Tonight would be bittersweet as, at the end of the summer, Hope would be going to journalism school at the University of Missouri, and Chase would be staying home to develop his music career. They planned to visit each other frequently, but the kind of daily togetherness they had been enjoying would be coming to an end.

  Chase came to pick her up in his yellow Camaro, which he had paid for with money from several gigs his band had played. They had been playing everybody else’s proms, but when asked to play for their own high school, Chase had opted out, wanting to spend the entire evening of their last dance with Hope. But that wasn’t how things were to work out.

  When he came in the door of her house to pick her up, Hope was just coming down the stairs. Her hair was swept up, with a rhinestone headband running through it. Her dress was made of a crinkly material with a bright purple, orange, and pink floral pattern. A twisted scarf made out of the same material traversed the front, high above her waist, and tied in the back, leaving long tails swishing elegantly behind her. Hope was fidgeting with the wrist corsage Chase had brought over earlier in the day as she descended. Hearing her mom’s voice, she lifted her head.

  Chase stood just inside the doorway wearing a white suit with an orange shirt that matched her dress, open at the collar. When he caught her movement on the stairs and looked up at her, a huge grin slowly spread over his face. Slipping past her mom, he met Hope at the bottom of the stairs, taking both of her hands in his and kissing her on the cheek. “You look fantastic!” he whispered. She dropped her eyes, a little embarrassed, but she could feel a familiar warmth spread through her, a warmth only he could give her.

  The magical beginning of the evening continued at the school, where they danced and laughed with friends most of the night. At one point, though, Chase came back to their table with a couple of sodas looking troubled.

  “Hope, I just ran into Susie and she was very upset about something. I’m sorr
y to have to ask this, but would you mind if I went and talked to her for a few minutes?”

  “No, no. Of course not.” Hope shooed him away. “Just let me know if there is anything I can do to help, okay?”

  “I may take you up on that, if it’s some kind of ‘girl thing.’” He smiled, kissing her on top of the head before leaving. After taking a couple of steps, he turned around. “Don’t go dancin’ with some other guy now.”

  “Not even if it’s my brother?” she teased.

  “You don’t have a brother,” he growled, suppressing a grin. “Am I gonna have to stay here?”

  “No. Go. I’ll be good. I promise.”

  He came back and kissed her one last time, and then disappeared into the crowd. And that was the last happy memory she had of Chase Hatton.

  After about twenty minutes, Hope decided to go see if Chase needed any help. Leaving the gym behind, she was about to cross the hall and go into the cafeteria when she found Chip Carter blocking the door.

  “Hope, you don’t want to go in there.”

  “Why?” she said suspiciously, still angry at Chip for spreading rumors about her the year before.

  “‘Cause, Hope, I never wanted to tell you this…but…”

  “Chip.” She sighed. “If you have something to say, just spit it out.”

  “Okay,” he said, sounding a little angry now. “Chase has been cheating on you.”

  Hope’s mouth dropped open in shock.

  “I probably should have told you, but Chase and I used to be friends, and he made me promise. Chase drops you off at your house after a date, and then goes to pick up Susie McNamara, ‘cause, as we all know, Susie, well, puts out. I’m sorry, Hope, but you just weren’t giving him what he needed, and Susie was more than willing to step up and take care of Chase’s needs—”

  “You liar!” Hope spat, trying to push past him.

  “Wait, Hope. There’s more.” Chip put his hands on her shoulders. “Chase’s foolin’ around has finally caught up with him. Susie has a bun in the oven and that’s why she’s so upset. They’re having a baby.” Hope stood there with tears in her eyes, trying to figure out why Chip would say something so cruel. “You don’t believe me, do you? Well, just see for yourself.”

  Chip pushed the door open a crack, and Hope shifted so she could see into the room. Chase and Susie were sitting together at a table, Chase’s arm around her, Susie’s head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Chase,” Susie was saying.

  “Don’t be silly, Susie. Hope will understand. You and the baby come first right now. I’ll help you through this.”

  “Chase, you’ve always been so good to me.” She lifted her head, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Hope pulled her head back, feeling sick. She took off running, unseeing, down the hall, accidentally heading in the opposite direction of the parking lot.

  Now, seeing Chase being kissed in the studio today by someone in a formal gown was just more than she could take. Job or no job, there was only so much she could put up with. She headed down a hallway in search of Hal Westbrook.

  She found Hal and the producer outside a door talking with Chase.

  “She’s been trying to get pregnant and found out today the in vitro didn’t work. So, since she hasn’t been able to drink while she was trying, she…had a few.”

  “A few bottles, maybe!” Hal fumed. “I’m sorry, Chase. I really am. But that doesn’t change the fact that we have the studio rented out for the day, and a slew of people here are expecting to be paid for a day’s work.”

  “Can’t the agency just send someone else over?”

  “Yeah, I guess. But we’re losing valuable time.”

  Taking in their grim faces, Hope found herself feeling sorry for Chase. Obviously, this wasn’t his fault. This time, anyway. As she approached the group, she heard herself say, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Hal peered at her and then at Chase. He smiled.

  As if reading his mind, Chase started protesting, “Hal—”

  A young woman poked her head out of the door. “She’s asking for you, Mr. Hatton.”

  “Thanks,” Chase responded with a sigh, following her back through the door and insisting, “Please just call me Chase.” He turned back to Hal. “Not a good idea!” He gave him a warning look before the door closed behind him.

  Hal hesitated only a beat.

  “Hope, I know this is totally not in your job description, but…” He raised his eyebrows at the producer.

  “Yes! Yes! She would be perfect!”

  Hope glanced from one to the other. “Perfect for what?”

  The next thing she knew, Hope was standing in front of a full-length mirror, her hair done up, wearing the green gown. The dress was a little tight, as Hope was curvier than Jennifer, and far too long, but the producer promised to keep all of the shots above her pinned hemline. She was hustled into the ballroom by a hairdresser, a makeup artist, and a clothes designer, all reassuring her that she was, indeed, “fabulous.”

  On the set, Chase sat alone, looking thoughtful and drumming on the table, his feet propped up on a chair. When he saw her enter, his fingers became motionless on the linen tablecloth. Slowly, he swung his feet down and stood up, his face unreadable. She crossed to him nervously.

  When he saw her, Chase felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him briefly. That dress. It seemed to stretch down a mile before it slid tantalizingly over the curve of her hips. For a second all he could think about was grabbing those hips and pressing his body to hers, hip bone to hip bone.

  Chase cleared his head and then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Hope. I know you didn’t sign up for this—”

  “No, it’s okay. I wanted to help.”

  “Thanks,” he said sincerely.

  “Places, everyone!” someone yelled. While Hope’s little entourage had been working to doll her up, everyone else had been practicing, and they quickly scurried to their assigned places. Hope glanced around, unnerved by the commotion. The band started up, and Hope’s attention was diverted to the stage.

  Chase cleared his throat again uneasily. “We’re…supposed to dance.” He held his hand out to her.

  “Chase,” she whispered, peeking at the others who had already begun to dance, “I haven’t danced since…” Her heart beat rapidly. “Since…”

  “Hope,” Chase said calmly. “It will be all right. Just follow me.”

  Slowly, she placed her hand in his outstretched one. Chase pulled her to him, placing a firm hand on the small of her back, where the fabric dipped away, just where her body began to curve outward. He led her to the dance floor, and they began to sway to the music. After a few steps, Chase accidentally stepped on her gown, which nearly toppled them as they fought to keep from crashing to the floor. He grabbed at Hope clumsily, and she began to laugh. “Good Lord, Chase! We’re going to make one hell of a video.” He laughed, too. Their nerves fed their laughter until they were both nearly hysterical. He pulled her close and kissed her lightly on the cheek, and they both seemed to relax a little.

  “Just keep going,” the director called out, “we can edit that out if we need to.”

  As they began their dance again, the mood became more serious. Chase’s hand was on Hope’s bare skin, where, had they been alone, he could have easily swept it to other areas of her body. That thought was driving her wild. Hope Alexis Creswell, get a grip! her brain screamed. Despite this, she dared to peek up at his face. He appeared impassive, yet she could not turn away. The strong cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrows, all so tantalizingly familiar…she had not forgotten him. She could never forget the way it felt to be in his arms. Even now—although she knew in her mind they were in a room full of strangers, paid to dance this strange dance with them, and although she knew she was only with him for the sake of a music video—he had the power to move her just by his proximity and touch.

  Chase felt her eyes on him, and while he tried to resist their pull, his eyes were drawn to Hop
e’s face nonetheless. She looked stunning. The color of the dress set off her eyes all the more, and the way her light, chestnut-brown hair was pulled up accentuated high cheekbones, perfectly arched brows, and the elegant sweep of her neck. The vision was quite a contrast from the braid-wearing girl who had graced his doorstep just that morning, but both were equally fetching in their own way. Her lips were parted slightly, and she seemed to be concentrating, perhaps on the dancing. He longed to kiss her, or at least to touch her full, moist lips with his finger, and he had to shake his head slightly to banish the idea from mind.

  When he gazed at her, Hope became lightheaded. She concentrated on breathing. In, out. That’s a girl, Hope. She twirled around the dance floor, melting into him to synchronize their movements. She felt like a figure inside a jewelry box, flowing with Chase as if she had been doing it all her life. The sound of the violins pulled on her heart, the music so exquisite it seemed as if it were coming from inside them. As the music slowed, so did her partner’s movements.

  Chase was gazing at her with an absolutely riveting intensity and before he even made a move, she anticipated the deep dip he would give her as the last note hung in the air. They stood frozen a minute: he poised, holding her in midair; she breathlessly surrendering to him. The dip, she thought fleetingly, was so seductive because it took the vertical dancing one step closer to the horizontal dance. She straightened, breathing hard. Chase’s face was inches from hers.

  Whether from the switch in blood flow from vertical to horizontal and back again, or the general lack of oxygen to her brain she experienced around Chase, Hope felt a whoosh starting at the base of the skull and washing over it, blurring her vision. She knew there were only seconds before she passed out.

  “I have to get air,” she managed to say, breaking free from Chase and stumbling off the stage. She made it a few feet farther before having to lean on a camera stand. Hope felt her knees buckle, and it was as if a sheet of water were passing over her eyes before all went blank.