by Yva Golden
For some reason, her attempt to ridicule herself makes me angry.
“Where are your parents? Why are they allowing you to do this?” I belatedly realize it’s too late to feel concerned for her well-being. I’ve already corrupted her many times. But a part of me doesn’t regret it, too.
Dammit, I’ve never felt more conflicted about a woman. It’s bringing my defenses up. And she’s a slip of a girl with no power whatsoever to even threaten me in any way.
But I know I’m lying to myself. She has the power, all right, and I don’t know how to deal with it. With all my smarts, I have no clue how to deal with her peculiar effect on me.
“My parents are both dead.”
Shit. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…” I feel like a heel.
She shrugs. “It’s all right. It’s not like they’d care about what I’m doing if they were alive, anyway. I told you about my mother. My father…he was a drug dealer and a junkie. An evil man. He died years ago in a run-in with the police. He used to beat Mom in front of me during many of his crazed episodes. I don’t miss him. I’m glad he’s dead.”
Jesus Christ! The stoic manner of which she spoke about her father gets to me. I know pain so deep when I see one. I’m furious that she went through that. I don’t think I want to hear more.
“My Mom…she died recently. I wish she hadn’t gone yet. But…” She shrugs, her eyes so fucking sad I want her to shut up now. “I guess she loved me in her own way, I knew that, but she was a broken soul for many years until her death. She got addicted to drugs, too and our relationship suffered. She was too wrapped up in her own depression to spare me any space in her mind…or in her heart.”
There’s this faraway look in her eyes as though she’s lost in her thoughts. As though I’m not even here beside her.
“Sob story, I know. Come to think of it, it’s been used as a plot in so many movies and books. I lost count of the titles I’ve read in the library which pretty much narrated my life in different writing styles. Some brilliant, some horrid, but they all ended the same. The main characters didn’t have a happy ending. They ended up in three ways— dead, in prison or messed up beyond redemption. The end.”
She expels a hollow laugh. “Maybe these authors think it’s cool and artistic to reduce one’s whole existence into such a pathetic waste of air and space. It has more shock value and the critics would surely rave about it for its…how do they call it? Quote, stark and unfiltered depiction of moral decay, unquote. Bull. Shit.”
She looks at me then, her eyes fierce, glistening with the pain I can plainly see now. She’s baring her soul to me, and I can’t look away. I’m enthralled, captivated by her honesty and her depth. She’s only eighteen and she sounds way older. Way mature in how she views the world.
“They think people with happy lives rolling in beds of roses full of love, success and contentment are cliche? Not to people like me. I want those cheesy happy endings for a change. I would do almost everything for it. I refuse to meet their kind of ending. I want my happy ending and I’m going to get it. I will take charge of my life and not just let society decide what I would become based on who brought me into this world.”
In that moment I want her so bad my entire being is clenching with a longing that goes beyond the visceral. I want to protect her. She’s so young and so jaded. Who wouldn’t be? Her life circumstances have driven her to this place. To men like Franco and I. Predators of the highest order. I want to change that. I want to be the reason she dreams again. And fuck, I’m going nuts.
“Heart…” I touch her shoulder gently, but she evades me. She lets me touch her sexually, but she won’t let me comfort her. I don’t like it. I want to break into her walls and conquer her completely.
She blinks her tears away rapidly, embarrassed now. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make drama. I’m sorry, Ashton.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I didn’t mean to sound like I resent people like you who are obviously living their dreams. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know, and I perfectly understand.”
She smiles, gratitude in her eyes, and I want so bad to take her into my arms, but I curb the urge. She’s proudly standing there, showing me how tough she is, and I have a huge respect for that knowing how young she is and what she went through. I think I’m having a crush on a woman for the first time at the age of thirty-eight.
Fuck me.
“I want us to have a good time on our last night together and I’m being a basket case.”
“No, you’re not. And we will, Heart. As far as I’m concerned, we already are having a great time. Since last night, in fact.”
Her smile broadens until it’s lighting up her entire face. “It’s so beautiful here, Ashton. Thanks for letting me stay here in your suite for another night. What a view!”
She faces the sunset again and stretches her arms outward, gesturing toward the mountain range in the distance. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a loud sigh, a dreamy look on her face this time.
She’s doing something major to me. Like a computer virus, she’s rearranging the perfect order of my internal operating system and I’m feeling the pressure now. I’ve never been affected like this by a woman, and this change in me is beyond my control. And if there’s something I can’t control and it’s causing me problems, I ruthlessly destroy it like a business competitor. I know myself too well.
Shit. What have I gotten myself into? It makes me regret taking her virginity.
Almost.
HEART
If I have the power to make time stand still, I will.
I will enjoy every minute of this night without any more drama. This is what I’m telling myself as Ashton and I share a sumptuous dinner at the poolside. But I’m aware of every minute that passes. I’m holding on to his every word, to his every smile, and to every meaningful look he throws my way, hoping this moment means something to him as it does to me.
After my little emotional revelation about my parents a while back, I can’t seem to stop talking about myself. I feel like an exploding dam and I want it all out so I can start on a clean slate.
He’s asking me about school and I tell him about my time in that fancy high school.
“I stood out like a sore thumb in high school. I didn’t have the right clothes and level of coolness, and most of all, I didn’t have the right last name and the wealth that came with it. But I didn’t let any of that defeat me. I wanted the education like a junkie, no pun. It was a stepping stone toward my higher education, and I meant to get another scholarship into a good college or a university.”
He seems really fascinated and very attentive. I’ve never been given this much attention before. It’s like I found a confidant, a person I can tell anything to and he won’t judge me.
“God knows how I worked hard for it. Maintaining grades, doing assignments for those trust-fund girls for a few bucks to augment my daily allowance, as well as working in the public library on weekends. I read a lot while I was in the library. I was arming myself with knowledge for the bigger things that I hoped to come, that I prayed so hard to come. I thought, if God didn’t give me the silver-spoon from birth, he’d at least give me opportunities, right?”
He nods, his eyes, solemn as he listens.
“My mother died just before my graduation. I was beyond devastated. It was her dream to see me graduate, and she didn’t get to see me come up the stage and receive my diploma, half-a-dozen academic medals, and my scholarship.”
He reaches out and squeezes my hand. I stare wistfully at his fingers covering mine. I feel protected. Understood. Respected.
“And maybe God did hear my prayers. Berkeley granted me with a full scholarship on any course of my choice. My dreams just got real. I was class valedictorian and I delivered the speech. Imagine that? For once, those who thought less of me all those years paid attention to me. And surprise, surprise, they gave me a standing ovation afterwa
rd. Who knew they had it in them to give credit where credit was due? But after internally gloating over that small victory, I faced the cold reality that was staring me in the face.”
I feel like years of dead weight are being lifted from my shoulders as I tell him my story. I didn’t know how much I wanted to talk about these things until this moment, with this man.
“Even if I got admitted into Berkeley, I’d still need money to get by on a day-to-day basis. You know, food, clothing and all that stuff. I had no one to help me. No family I could count on. Apparently, my dead parents had both cut ties with their respective families and I never got to meet any of my relatives from both sides. I had no one to rely on but myself. I needed the money to transfer to California, get myself settled there and start college. I had to make a decision fast. I finally called Jigger on his offer. And so here I am.”
He stares at me, his eyes sympathetic…and…guilty?
“I’m so sorry, Heart.”
I know why he’s apologizing. I don’t want him to ever regret he took my virginity. “I’m not. I’m glad it was you. I couldn’t have wished for anybody else. I mean, I thought it was Franco Bonatti I was going to be with and I saw him having an orgy yesterday morning. I told him the deal’s off if that’s what he had in mind. Gross!”
He grins. Then he turns serious and gives me a sharp look. “An orgy you say? What did you exactly see?”
I feel my cheeks flushing. “I didn’t exactly see him…his…you know…”
He looks at me harder.
“No! Ew!”
“Thank fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, shaking his head and drinks from his wine glass. He looks annoyed.
“Are you really friends with him?”
“Yeah. He’s my business partner, too.”
I shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, okay? He’s quite good-looking, but he’s… scary.”
He looks even more annoyed. “And I’m not scary?”
I give him a weird look. Is he actually….jealous? Jeez, I would never presume, but he does look mighty pissed as I talk about his friend. I feel tickled to my bones.
“You’re not scary. You’re…” Feeling bold, I give him a seductive stare.
“What.” His eyes become deep pools of blue with desire, and I revel in the fact that I can make this powerful man respond to me like this. I full-on let out the goddess in me. This is our last night together. I will make the most of it.
“Boy, isn’t it hot in here?” I fan my face slowly, giving him a knowing smile.
His eyes burn like twin flames of blue, scorching me. “Little girl, keep looking at me like that and you’re gonna get it right there.”
I lean back on my padded seat lazily. “Right here?”
He growls and leaves his a chair.
The next thing I know, he’s lifting me by my waist and I’m wrapping my legs around his middle.
He guides me to slide down his body and I feel his…Oh my! I’ll never get over how big he is. My inner muscles clench in anticipation.
He kisses me, and I kiss him back, my arms looping around his neck, hungry for him again. My core is pulsing hard with the urgency to feel him inside me again, driving so deep inside me. Making me come over and over.
I can’t wait to leave Vegas, but God, I wish this night would never end.
Chapter Nine
HEART
I’M READY TO GO. I had to borrow a trolley to load all the stuff that Ashton bought for me yesterday. I have a new wardrobe for school. I’d be decently dressed in designers. He didn’t need to do that. I didn’t need these things, but his gesture melted my heart.
I think I may have fallen in love, if the bittersweet feeling in my chest is to go by. But my heart is a bit broken now as I stare at the opulence of the suite that I shared with him the past two days. The things we did in this suite are tattooed on my mind. They’ll stay with me for the rest of my life.
I have to face reality. Ashton is a fantasy, the man of my dreams come to life. My unicorn, even just for a few days. But we’re worlds apart. He’s very wealthy and I’m a nobody. There’s Cinderella and all that fairy tale, and it may have even happened to some lucky people, but not me. Even though I see him as my hero, curing my heart of cynicism about men, I’m not too foolish to hope for a happy ending with a man like Ashton. My head is not in the clouds.
But I’m glad I met him before I left Vegas. My last days in this city weren’t so bad, at all. Ashton replaced all my bad memories of this place. When I look back one day, I’ll think about Mom and whatever special moments we had, no matter how few they were…and Ashton.
I smile wanly and roll the trolley out of the suite. I don’t need to go see Mr. Bonatti anymore. I’ll just see Jigger and give him his money, and then I’ll be on my way to California.
ASHTON
I deliberately left the suite early this morning. The babe is leaving today and I didn’t want the awkward goodbye. Why it would be awkward, I wasn’t sure. I just didn’t like to be saying goodbye to her. I also found out this morning that it’s the last thing I want to do. Say goodbye to her.
But I have to let her go.
So why does the very thought make me angry? And afraid? And helpless? These are feelings I’d never attribute to women. Women have usually given me pleasant feelings after a night of sex, and I’d gone my way like usual. They certainly didn’t leave me with these volatile emotions churning in my chest and gut. For a semi-stranger, to boot!
Two nights. That should be enough, dammit!
But as the minutes tick by, I feel more agitated, like there’s a ticking time bomb in my head and it will blow up any moment. I hate it.
It will blow up and I’ll never see her again. Well, I can probably find her. I have my resources. I can hack like the rest of them.
Now, why would I want to find her? Shit, what am I thinking?
Ask her to be with you. Why not?
I finally listen to that little urgent voice in my head.
She’s too young for me, I rationalize.
She’s legal, that’s what matters. And you’ve had her so many times already. Too late to feel guilty about that. And admit it, you’re not guilty one bit. You want her. You want her beyond two nights.
I don’t do this.
There’s a first time for everything. Give yourself a chance for something greater than your work and your charities. It’s about time you did. You know deep inside you’ve been waiting for something like this. For a woman to touch you like this. You haven’t gotten seriously involved with anybody all these years because you didn’t want to settle for anything less than this. Now that you finally found her, what the hell are you doing resisting the feeling?
Cussing myself for being such an indecisive fool, I practically run toward the elevator. The zoom speed can’t bring me back to the suite fast enough.
But she’s gone.
She left me a letter written in her beautiful handwriting. Several bundles of cash are sitting beside it. She left some of the money? I read her note.
Dear Ashton,
First, about the money: Mr. Bonatti already gave me an advance of 50 out of the 100 grand Mr. Bonatti and I have agreed upon, so I’m only taking half of the payment you gave me. The rest of the shopping money, I’m keeping for my expenses. I promise you it will not be in vain. I can’t thank you enough for your kindness and generosity. You are my hero, my knight when I badly needed one, and I don’t even believe in knights and heroes. I will never forget you. Maybe, one day, when I have achieved my dreams and I have something to be proud of next to you, I’ll see you again, and return your kindness. Maybe we can be friends then. For real.
Love, Heart
Cussing, I call Franco.
I’m glad he picks up right away or I’d be tearing his suit down for his ass.
“Ash, whassup?”
“Did Heart come to you this morning?”
“No. Why? I was actually waiting for her, but I figured you were still enjoyin
g her. Way too much actually. But I’m glad you’re a happy man in Vegas, amico.”
I cuss again. Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m desperate!
“Hey, what’s wrong, man? Did she do something?”
“No, no, Franco. Listen, she already left my suite. But I need to find her. Do you know where she might me?”
“Oh, you want more of her.”
I can almost see the smug look on his face. “No… yes… fuck!”