by Holly Hood
“I can’t understand how such a successful guy such as yourself hasn’t branched off into New York. That would be the ultimate excuse to move away from Ohio,” she insisted.
“Nah, its home. I’m royalty there. I’d be nothing out here,” he joked.
“Royalty, huh? What are you saying, Adrian? You some kind of prince?” Charley asked, laughing at the thought of it.
“Yeah exactly,” he said.
Charley turned looking closer at him, waiting for the laughter. But he stayed serious, she stopped walking letting go of his hand. Pulling off her red leather glove, she extended her hand to Adrian.
“Hi, I’m Charley, a small town girl from Ohio, daughter of one Sandy and Ned Harper--psychologist and railroad worker. They did well enough for themselves to have raised four children. And you are?” she asked, waiting. Adrian grabbed her hand shaking it tightly. He took a long pause, debating on what to say.
“I’m Adrian Peters. I like long walks on the beach, and when I’m not busy doing charity work in Ohio, I am known back in my father’s homeland as a prince. Pleased to meet you,” he said, cringing at what was coming next. He watched Charley’s face go from blank to filled with astonishment, and then to confusion.
“Are you being serious right now, like you’re a prince?” she asked, baffled. Was he making this up?
“Back where my father was born, Columbia. His family is royalty. I guess here we wouldn’t consider it that, but there things are different. So, yeah, there I would be considered a prince,” he nodded, feeling a little awkward.
“That’s amazing, and you’re ‘allowed’ to talk to little old me?” Charley asked, taking his hand again.
“I think you’d make the perfect princess,” he said, smiling. As for the ‘allowed’ part, that was an entirely different story, he thought to himself. His family was strict about who any of the children became romantically involved with.
Adrian had two brothers, Andre and Angelo. He was the middle son. They were all considered the “golden” children. Their lives had always been complicated. He’d found a way to skate by all the bullshit. He did his best to stay away from the shady details. Some parts of it were totally unavoidable. Being part of such a family automatically roped him in.
This brought him back to his feelings for Charley. What would she think if she knew he was Sam’s son—the man who was in jail for allegedly killing her mother?
More importantly, however, how would she feel about him if she knew his dad was not the one who harmed her mother?
Dad
Ned was pleased he managed to get out of his home for the evening. He had survived a trip to the grocery store to buy groceries. He’d been surviving on beer and pork rinds for some time now, but he needed real food. He shut the trunk lid and gave the shopping cart a hard shove into the cart corral. He was looking forward to getting home to make up a nice batch of potato and broccoli soup—one of his specialties. In fact, it was probably the only thing he knew how to cook.
“And there it is again,” he muttered to himself. He pulled his rear-view down to get a better view of the black vehicle. He could have sworn it drove by his house twice the other day. At first he thought it’d been his imagination, but this proved he hadn’t imagined it. He held on tight to the steering wheel, straining to remain calm.
Ned wasn’t the most powerful man. He barely stood six feet tall. He’d never been an athlete and considered himself more of an artsy type. He and Sandy had always enjoyed trips to the museum and stage plays.
He snagged the newspaper off the steps as he made it onto his front porch. He looked over his shoulder for any sign of the black car. Digging into his pants pocket for his house keys, they let out a little jingle as he worked on the lock. It was never that easy to open. In fact, Sandy had told him for months that the lock needed to be lubricated.
Life was returning to normal for him. With all the kids gone, he’d gotten used to the silence. The only noise that kept him company was an old grandfather clock that sat in the corner of his front room. Even Gray, their old hound dog, did nothing but sleep next to his recliner. He barely ate or moved anymore. Sometimes Ned would poke him to make sure he was still alive.
He moaned as he set the groceries on the kitchen table. He had to admit he was lonely. Gray yelped suddenly, raising the hairs on Ned’s arms. He put down the canned good, staying where he was, listening, and heard the screen door bang several times.
“Hello?” he called out. He waited as Gray continued barking. Leaning over, he took Gray by the collar and walked through the living room to the hallway. Ned dropped his grip on Gray as soon as he saw the masked man standing in his home.
“Who are you!” he yelled. “What do you want?”
The tall man towered over him as he stood there with his arms crossed over his black shirt, black gloves covering his large hands.
“What is this about?” he stammered. Gray backed down and lay down at Ned’s feet. Ned silently cursed his dog’s cowardice.
“Where is it, Mr. Harper?” the masked man asked. He had an accent Ned didn’t recognize. As the man stuck out a gloved hand moving closer to him, Ned backed away. The masked man grabbed Ned’s arms and, in one quick toss, sent him sailing across the room, where he landed on the living room floor. Ned groaned, rolling to his side, the air knocked out of him.
He watched as the man moved toward him, and lifting a single foot he stepped down onto Ned’s glasses, crushing them.
Ned could hear him rummaging through the house—drawers opening and shutting, furniture being moved—obvious he was looking for something. Nearly blind without his glasses, Ned could only see a blur of the man as he moved around the house.
“If you could explain to me what it is you’re looking for, maybe I could help you,” he said, from where he lay sprawled out on the living room floor.
“I have no time for games, Mr. Harper,” the man said, making his way back into the living room. He raised his boot above Ned’s head sending Ned into a panic. Clutching his chest, he let out a scream, feeling the full force of a size thirteen boot ramming down on his skull.
Evelyn Peters
Evelyn Peters had always been the talk of the town. Other housewives envied her mink furs, her diamonds, her fancy cars, and even her husband. She seemed to have anything and everything a person could want. She sipped on the most delectable wines, shook hands with the most influential people, and only the finest of plastic surgeons were ever allowed to touch her body. She considered herself to be a fine piece of art.
Evelyn met Sam when she was a young girl. Her parents were both traveling ministers, taking her with them on their worldwide excursions. She was barely fourteen when she laid eyes on Sam for the first time. She wanted this man in every way imaginable, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted.
It helped that she was a strikingly gorgeous girl. Her dazzling blue eyes, her fair skin, and her golden naturally blonde hair was all it took to bring Sam to her doorstep. They hit it off quickly, and he promised they’d marry. It wasn’t until nearly a year later that she’d discovered how powerful Sam was. He was part of the most dangerous family in Columbia. Once the parents learned of their children’s escapades, it was too late. She was already pregnant. Sam’s family forced her parents into the family trade, and from then on, Evelyn realized the extent of her own power.
For the few that knew Evelyn well, it was no surprise that she would win the prize for a woman scorned. To Evelyn, Sam was her possession and he was never supposed to betray her.
Now he was sitting behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. Evelyn felt this was the best place for him. In most families, the man was in charge, but this wasn’t the case with Sam and Evelyn. Their power, for the most part, was equal. Occasionally, one outranked the other. The kind of power this family had allowed them to get nearly anything they wanted, no matter how disturbing the methods used to obtain those things.
Evelyn floated across her ind
oor pool, a black eye mask covering her face. She held a glass of red wine in one hand, a long cigarette in the other.
“Jacque!” she screeched. A young muscular man wearing only a Speedo came running for the room, swiftly diving into the water without hesitation.
“Yes, Mrs. Peters,” he said, emerging at her feet.
Without even looking at the young man, she began talking.
“I want a bath run, and then I want you to get in touch with my sons. I want them here tomorrow morning. We need to discuss some business,” she said, dropping the cigarette into the pool, it hissed before being captured by Jacque.
“As you wish,” he said, swimming to the ladder. Mrs. Peters was the toughest boss on earth. If anyone knew what it was like behind the estate’s walls, they would have been horrified.
Charley and Adrian
Adrian and Charley were having an incredible day; they’d been hitting it off so well. He had one final night to spend with her and then he was back to Ohio. He sat in her living room waiting for her to get dressed. He was taking her to her favorite Broadway show, West Side Story.
This was the longest he’d been in her apartment since his visit to New York. And he wasn’t shocked in the least that she never let him stay overnight. He knew she wasn’t the type to sleep around. She gave him her whole day every day since he’d been here, and that was enough for him.
“I’ll be done in about five more minutes,” Charley called from her bedroom. Adrian gave her a nod, looking around the room at the elegant art hanging from the walls, all floral paintings. Everything in her apartment reflected her personality—shiny and stylish, yet laid-back and refined. He touched the flowers he sent her that were now displayed on her glass coffee table. They fit in with the colors of her living room. He loved how she displayed pictures of all her loved ones in cute little frames, and how she had old English writing of inspirational words forever memorialized on her walls. He also loved how he could tell she used her chaise lounge as her nightly reading spot, with books stacked neatly on the end table beside it. A light pink throw was draped carefully over her couch. Everything was a reflection of her, and he just wanted to sit there forever taking in the smells and sounds that all reminded him of her.
Adrian leaned back on the sofa as he felt his phone ring in his pocket. He groaned but kept his eyes glued on the bedroom as he answered.
“Yep?” he asked, knowing it was his mother yet again.
“Mr. Peters, this is Jacque. Your mother wants to see you and your brothers tomorrow morning.”
“Well Jacque, tell Mom that I won’t be home until evening, so it’s not going to work,” Adrian replied. His mom was being her usual pushy self, and he wasn’t going to give in to her demands and cut his visit with Charley short.
“No, no, that no good, Mr. Peters,” Jacque said, sounding distressed, his broken English putting a smile on Adrian’s face.
“It’s good. You tell her I told you I’m busy,” he said, watching Charley heading his way.
“She might hit me, Mr. Peters. You know how I feel about that. Could you tell her now?” Jacque begged. It was horribly pathetic that a grown man was that afraid of his mother.
“Look, I’ll help us both out. Just tell her I said I’m coming, okay? I’ll take care of the rest, now goodbye,” he said, shutting his phone.
“Another phone call, huh?” Charley asked as she put on a pair of dainty diamond earrings.
Adrian stood up, shoving his phone in his pocket. He took her in, loving the black layered skirt that reminded him of a ballerina tutu. She topped that with a dark pink belt and a white sleeveless blouse that had its own set of frills. Her hair was perfectly styled in large waves, and it was clear she took her time to look good for him. He loved it.
“Yeah, another call from home. Just my mom. Your legs look amazing in that skirt, by the way,” he said.
Charley teasingly moved her skirt up, showing more skin. She was feeling more comfortable with Adrian.
“Well, the show doesn’t start for another hour,” she said, checking her watch. She lived close, so there was no point in taking off early. She took a seat on her couch, patting the spot next to her for Adrian to sit. He sat down in a flash, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Hi,” he said, giving a huge grin. She didn’t entertain guys often, so she grabbed the remote trying to break the uncomfortable silence. Adrian tried his best to stay calm, but every part of him wanted nothing more than to get another kiss. She was beautiful beyond words and it was killing him. He looked down to see Charley kicking off her strappy little heels only to have his heart speed up a bit more. She pulled her legs up on the couch to get more comfortable.
“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to protest as he brought her feet into his lap. Admiring her hot pink manicured toes, he began to rub her soft feet. He pretended to be paying attention to the show, but couldn’t do anything but think about how her long legs were draped across him and how much he loved touching her.
“Ow…ouch,” Charley said. Adrian laughed. So occupied with his thoughts, he didn’t realize just how tightly he’d been gripping her feet.
Charley ran her hand up his arm stopping on his bicep. She smiled at him, watching him take care of her feet. His hands were magic and she was enjoying the attention.
“Sorry, I can be a brute sometimes. Forgive me?” he asked, moving towards her so they could meet up with a kiss. Charley nodded, pulling him close, her lips the aggressor. She held tight to his shirt collar, not giving him an inch. And it wasn’t as if he was going anywhere, he was drawn to her like a magnet. Adrian finally let go of her feet following her body as she moved closer to him on the sofa. He moved her back against the pillows, doing his best at keeping his hands above her waist.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he breathed, his lips still on her mouth. She nodded, caughtupin the moment, holding on to his neck as he dropped her farther back on the couch. Adrian pulled back waiting for her to stop him. When she didn’t, his heart pounded wildly, thrilled at her lack of protest. She was like no girl he’d ever been with, and he respected her immensely. But as she bit his lip, and ran her hand under his shirt, he found himself ready to explode.
“Are you okay?” Charley asked. He seemed lost in thought.
Charley knew what was progressing. His sweet kisses and kindness had teased her for days and it was about to put her over the edge. She didn’t want him to think less of her if she gave in to her desires for him. But what was wrong with sex between two consenting adults?
He kissed down her neck, hitting her collar bone with more slow kisses, as she was losing all cognizant thought. She pulled at her blouse undoing the first button. Adrian moved her hands away, taking over. He had every button undone in about five seconds. Impressive, Charley thought.
She moaned in pleasure as he made his way down her chest, and she ran her hands through his short hair. His hands trailed down her body. Charley ran her hands down Adrian’s muscular back, his skin smooth and warm.
Her heart was racing as a thousand what-ifs ran through her mind.
“Are you okay?” he asked, slowing down.
“It’s been awhile,” she said, covering her eyes with her hand. Adrian smiled. He was glad to know she was just as nervous as he was
“How long has it been for you?” she asked. She could have kicked herself as soon as that question left her mouth.
“Uh, about two months,” he answered. He immediately wondered if honesty, in this case, was the best policy.
Charley pulled him back to her, kissing his lips, indicating she wasn’t bothered by his truth. He slowly slid his hands down her long legs, their softness almost too much for him to bear, his hands meeting up with her ruffled skirt. Taking a breath, he slid his hand back up, going under her skirt. She wasn’t resisting so he kept going. Charley pulled her belt off quickly. Just as he started to slide her skirt off, his phone rang, buzzing them both, shattering their perfect moment. He knew who it was; she
nodded giving him a sympathetic smile from below.
“It’s okay, answer it,” she whispered, her face flushed and hair disheveled. Only a faint hint of her red lipstick was left on her lips.
Adrian tried to pull it together, tugging at his jeans. He was halfway out of his dress shirt. Taking a few breaths to make sure he was not going to sound out of breath, he headed into her kitchen. Making sure she wasn’t listening, he quickly hit the answer button on his phone.
“Seventy-two Davenport Avenue, the third condo on the left, Charley Harper. Blonde hair and legs to the heavens. She might have given your mother a run for her money back in the day,” Evelyn said to her son.
Adrian swallowed down his anger; she always did this trying her best to push anyone and anything into submission.
“Yeah, so what,” he said, taking short breaths. He was close to erupting.
“How do you think little Miss Charley, daughter of one Sandy Harper would feel if she knew what I knew?” she asked, maliciously.
“What is it you know exactly?” Adrian asked.
“Oh, you’re so much like your father, it’s uncanny sometimes. But you also love your mother,” she said, waiting for a response. Evelyn knew her son’s weakness—since he was a little boy he’d wanted to be her hero.
“I’m having a really good time right now, and if you ruin it for me, love won’t be a factor,” he warned.
“Do you honestly believe there could be a romance with the man responsible for her mother’s death?” Evelyn was beyond thrilled she had the upper hand.
“I’m sick of this, if it wasn’t for you pulling me into your bullshit, I wouldn’t be in this mess right now,” Adrian snapped. He regretted daily what he’d done to that woman. But his regret wouldn’t change the outcome—she was still dead. He wished he’d never driven to his parents’ house that night. The minute he walked through the doors he knew he was in a mess. His mom was completely devastated and barely able to get out of bed. She’d found out about the affair and he was only trying to help her feel better. His mother never cried so when she was crying that night, it softened him to her. So he did what she’d asked of him, never thinking he’d meet Charley. And he never thought he’d have to face his father, knowing he was the cause of him being behind bars.