by Rach Elle
After a moment of suppressing her emotional pain she whispered, “Fine.” She stood from her chair and nodded once at Bill to acknowledge his order before leaving his office.
Sunders sat at his desk feeling like complete shit. He had just complained to Bill that Rue was hindering his team and their investigation. None of it was true. The truth was that he couldn’t stand working so closely with her. The thoughts she put in his head were unwelcomed. And she didn’t even have to do anything to put them there; that was the problem. She could just crinkle her nose when he used a Scottish term she didn’t understand; or bite her bottom lip when she was focusing too hard. Almost instantly his mind would flash to images of her in his bed. Not that he would ever allow her in his bed; his mattress was lumpy and his studio flat was decrepit and old; and not in that trendy, vintage way either. No, she deserved more than that. In his fantasies they were somewhere upscale; like a really nice hotel or something.
Sunders shook his head violently. He was heading down that dangerous road again. He had to stay away from any thoughts of Rula Jones.
As if on cue, he heard Bill’s door open and shut. He craned his neck to glance through the thin window that flanked his office door. Suddenly, Rue came into sight. She looked over her shoulder, through the window and locked eyes with him. He wanted to recoil, to hide his shame for throwing her under the bus, but he couldn’t move. Instead he watched the hurt in her green eyes for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally, she turned away and headed back to her, now former, office.
Sunders leaned back in his chair, feeling even worse. He could remember the words she spoke a week ago. He could see in his mind’s eye the image of her standing before him, telling him that she had been trying to be someone she wasn’t in the hopes that others would accept her. She admitted that she hadn’t had much luck with making friends over the years. He could remember the vulnerability and sadness in her voice. His mind then flashed to a shot of her as they sat at the break room table the day before; her smile, her warmth. She readily accepted his companionship, as plutonic as it was. Now she more than likely just learned that he wanted nothing to do with her. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bill told her that he was the one who had requested the transfer. Bill was a lot of things; but tactful wasn’t one of them.
Shit. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was such a fucking ass.
21
“I heard you slept in the storage room last night.” Cooper said as she watched Maria, her tailor, hem Awilda’s dress.
Without taking her eyes off of her full length reflection, Awilda answered, “I was reading and fell asleep.”
“I don’t even know how you can stand being in there alone,” Cooper shivered, “Gives me the creeps. That’s why we call it the forgotten room and why I never cared to have the glass top cleaned. I never go in there.”
“Zeff works out in there.”
“Well, that bloke’s braver than I.”
Elizabeth lifted a large, gold necklace with embedded diamonds. She positioned herself behind Awilda and out of Maria’s way before placing the jewelry around Awilda’s neck. “Let’s focus on the festivities before us, shall we?” She said as her arthritis-ridden fingers worked to clasp the necklace. “We have a fun evening ahead of us.”
Awilda exhaled a deep breath. She didn’t feel much like leaving her room, let alone attending a wedding reception. But the girls had insisted she at least try to be sociable.
She stood in a floor length light blue gown with halter straps and a slit that ran the length of her right leg. The other two girls had already gotten dressed. Cooper looked gorgeous in a draped, deep purple gown. She looked like a Roman goddess. And Elizabeth looked stunning in a white knee-length dress with a scoop neck, short sleeves, and a black belt cinched around her waist. They both wore their hair up and voted for her to do the same. Cooper had twisted, wrapped, pinned and sprayed Awilda’s hair like crazy before finally feeling content with the end result. She had to admit though; she’d never seen her hair look so good. It was stiff as a board and she had no idea how to undo any of it, but it looked straight out of a magazine.
Maria finished the hem, packed up her sewing kit and wished them all a wonderful evening before leaving the room.
“You look beautiful,” Elizabeth beamed over Awilda’s shoulder.
Awilda smiled at her reflection, “Thank you,” she whispered.
22
Rue eyed the clock hanging on the wall intently. She tapped her foot in time with the second hand until it finally reached the twelve. The minute hand followed suit and the hour hand landed prominently on the six. It was time to go home. She zipped up her sweater and picked up her bag.
Rue exited her new office, which she shared with some chick named Savannah and a dumbass named Jerry, and headed for the elevators. She casually looked over her shoulder and glanced down the two adjacent corridors, hoping not to see Sunders Harper. The last thing she needed was him apologizing for hanging her out to dry. Or maybe he wouldn’t even apologize. Maybe he was too much of a chicken shit to do his own dirty work and that’s why he had Bill do it for him. The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside.
She made her way through the main floor lobby and reached the front doors. One little push and she’d be outside, on her way home, and free of this day forever.
She stepped outside, feeling the cold wind on her face that forced her to bundle up further beneath her sweater. She descended the three stone steps that led to the sidewalk and exhaled the moment she was officially gone from United Financial.
“Rue!” She heard her name being called from behind. She stopped and turned to see – who else? – Sunders Harper running to catch up to her. Like a child she scowled, rolled her eyes and continued walking.
Sunders caught up to her and matched her strides. “Rue, I know what you must be thinking,” he said, “Let me explain.”
“Don’t bother,” Rue’s voice was flat and sarcastic, “Bill told me everything. I’m just a nuisance; a distraction for you.” She stopped and raised her hand to hail an oncoming taxi.
“You’re not a nuisance. I just need to concentrate on this investigation.”
You and I both know that’s not true. “Well congratulations; you got what you asked for. You’re free. I’m sorry I was such a burden.” Her last words were laced with bitterness as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her. She whipped the door open and plopped down inside, shutting the door as hard as she could for effect.
Sunders watched as Rue was swept away in the bulbous, black vehicle. Her words were tough and her voice was stern; as if she wasn’t truly affected by any of this at all. As if she didn’t care either way. But something inside of him nagged in his chest. He had a feeling that wasn’t the case at all.
23
Crisp sat upright in his bed watching television, trying to figure out what the laugh track found so amusing. A small knock sounded at his door and he muted the riotous noise. A moment later the door opened and Awilda Rose poked her head in.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Crisp smiled, “Of course.”
Awilda closed herself into the room.
“Wow,” Crisp breathed, “you look amazing.”
She did. Her brown and gray hair was held tightly in a twisted up-do, revealing the sharp corners of her jaw line and the delicate contours of her shoulders and collar bone. A beautiful gold necklace with diamond inserts sat prominently on her chest. The bust of her light blue dress was structured and led way to a flowing gown that reached the floor. Her makeup was tastefully applied; the liquid eyeliner extending beyond her lids for a shadowy, cat eye effect. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched and her cheekbones smiled with a hint of pink blush.
She began to move toward him, the toe of her white high heels revealing themselves with every forward step. And the slit down her right leg opened and closed gracefully, bringing the length of her bare leg into the open only to pull it back to the shadows again;
over and over. For the first time since he’d met her, Crisp felt like he was looking upon a woman; not a little girl.
Awilda sat next to him on the edge of the bed and smoothed out the lap of her dress nervously. “This was all Cooper’s idea,” she said, motioning to her attire.
“It was a good one,” Crisp nudged her lightly, “Like I said; amazing.”
“She’s forcing me to go to this reception thing. I guess she thinks it’ll take my mind off of, well, you know.” Her voice trailed off.
Crisp’s lips thinned as he nodded. He knew all too well what was in store for the girl next to him. It made him feel like shit. He’d known her for many, many years. He’d watched her grow up and for all intents and purposes he was the closest thing to a father figure she had. He was protective over her; he loved her. But what was coming for her; the horror that lurked just beyond the horizon; there wasn’t any way he could stop it.
“Will you come too?” She asked, her brown eyes looking up to him. They weren’t the same; filled with naivety and innocence. Now they were hard and cold. It saddened him.
“We can be wallflowers together,” she cracked a small smile.
Crisp chuckled under his breath, “I’d love to, but I’m not feeling up to it just yet.”
“You look like you’re feeling a lot better. Your color is back. You look strong and overall,” she searched for the right word, “powerful.”
Crisp laughed, “Powerful huh? I don’t know about that. But with the way things are going I’d say I’ll be back to my old self sooner rather than later.”
Awilda relaxed her shoulders and grinned, “Good.” She stood from the bed, “Well, I better get going. The reception has officially started and I’m sure Cooper’s going to have an aneurism if I don’t make an appearance.”
“I hope you have fun,” Crisp said sincerely, “You deserve it.” He watched as she exited the room.
The wedding reception was in full swing as couples and singles mingled and danced in the grand ballroom of the Vanderburen castle. The marble floor was smooth and shined with the reflection of the sparkling gold chandeliers that hung two stories above.
Awilda stood in the back corner of the ballroom, alone and uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be around anyone. She wanted to be in her bedroom, poring over Arav’s works in hopes of finding some semblance of hope that she wasn’t completely screwed.
Her eyes drifted over the sea of people. She didn’t recognize anyone. She couldn’t see Kingsley and Elizabeth; she figured they were dancing somewhere among the crowd. She couldn’t see Cooper, Zeff or Bawli; they were probably patrolling the reception to ensure everything continued to run smoothly. Alvin and Mason were most likely trying to get laid and Junior was…
Awilda’s breath caught as her eyes landed on the image of Junior. He was standing just as he was the last time they were in this situation; near the bottom of the staircase that curved in front of the wall of windows. Only this time his suit actually fit him.
She couldn’t help herself. She stared in awe of how beautiful he was. His frame was broad and his features were strong. The black tuxedo was tailored to perfection and the bowtie was whimsical yet sexy at the same time. He watched over the reception with a stern expression, pretending not to notice all the girls that smiled and winked at him; flipping their hair and bending over to adjust their dresses in the hopes that their cleavage would catch his eye. He ignored them all.
“Hello there,” a smooth, English accent rang in her ear. Awilda turned around to see a handsome man not much older than she. He smiled and held out his hand, “I don’t think we’ve met; I’m Devin.”
Reluctantly, Awilda shook his hand. She didn’t feel much like making a friend right now. “Awilda,” she said, unable to even force a smile.
“That’s an interesting name,” Devin chatted, “Would you like to dance?”
“Oh,” Awilda brought her hand back to her side, “no thank you.”
“Why not?” Devin pushed.
“I don’t dance.”
“I can teach you.”
“I believe the lady said she doesn’t want to dance.”
Both Devin and Awilda whipped their heads around to see Zeff approaching. Devin immediately recoiled from the shifter. He observed the man before him; shoulder length blonde hair, a hard ripped body evident even under a suit and tie, and a massive scar that ran along the right side of his face.
Zeff reached the two and casually draped his arm over Awilda’s shoulders. He eyed Devin with his icy blue eyes. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Devin swallowed a lump in his throat and managed to shake his head before turning and heading to the other side of the room.
“Thanks,” Awilda said softly.
“Don’t mention it,” Zeff undraped his arm. “Just one thing, though,” he continued, “try to cheer up, yeah? If you don’t crack a smile soon you’re going to make everyone think the world is coming to an end.”
Awilda raised her eyes to meet his, “At least they’ll be prepared.”
Zeff stared into her brown eyes for a moment, wishing he had something to say. But no matter how many recesses of his brain he scoured he couldn’t come up with an answer that would make her feel better. She had every right to be depressed, upset and mad as hell.
Out of the corner of his eye Zeff noticed Alvin talking to a young blonde woman. He didn’t think much of it until she threw a glass of champagne in his face. He scowled, “Forgive me,” he said to Awilda as he left her side.
Zeff approached Alvin just as he finished drying his face with a pocket square.
“Need I remind you its bad for business if the guests complain about the staff?” He said in a hushed voice.
Alvin took a casual stance next to the scarred shifter, “She won’t complain.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because, I was just the appetizer; it’s time for the main course.”
Zeff followed Alvin’s line of sight across the room to see Mason nonchalantly introducing himself to the girl.
“See,” Alvin continued, “now comparatively Mason’s a ten when before he was a six at best.” He looked up at Zeff and smiled, “I’m the world’s best wingman.”
Zeff answered flatly, “Your parents must be so proud.”
Awilda leaned against the back wall with her arms wrapped in front of her torso. She continued to stare at Junior. Even though she didn’t want to dance and she wasn’t in the mood to mingle she wished like hell he would ask her to do either. Hell, she’d even break her gloom and doom routine if he offered to lead her onto the dance floor. But he had been so distant these past couple of weeks. Ever since she’d faced off with the evil storm on the hotel rooftop he’d been acting so different. He no longer seemed so sure that everything would be alright. In fact, he almost looked as though he’d conceded that nothing would be.
Awilda sighed heavily; she missed Junior. It almost felt like he’d abandoned her at the time when she needed him the most. As she stared upon him she longed for him to come to her; to hold her; to profess his love for her again because he was the only person in this world that made her feel like she had an ounce of goodness inside of her.
Tears threatened to sting her eyes as she tried to will his head to turn and for him to look at her, but he just remained perfectly still. She could barely hear the music that was playing or the chattering of everyone around her. She hated being here and decided she’d had enough. She gave it a chance. She tried to play nice and pretend to be normal, but now she was done; over it.
Awilda crossed the ballroom and reached the bottom of the staircase on the opposite side from Junior. The last thing she needed right now was to give him another opportunity to ignore her. She placed her hand on the cherry banister and began her ascent. She climbed the stairs to the top and headed down the hall toward her room.
She reached her door and began to open it when something inside of her itched. She didn’t want to just sit in a d
ark room. She was anxious and growing more so by the minute. She needed fresh air.
Awilda let go of her door knob and continued down the hall until she reached the ceiling door that led to the rooftop. She reached upward and latched onto a gold chain before pulling it downward, revealing an unfolding set of steps. Once they were lowered to the floor and locked in place she climbed them into the fresh, cold night air.
Junior stood at the bottom of the staircase in a penguin suit pretending to watch over the festivities. Truth was, a fight could break out right in front of him and he wouldn’t even know it. He was too busy watching Awilda through his periphery. Damn she looked beautiful in that floor-length light blue dress. He wanted nothing more than to take her by the hand, pull her into him and hold onto her tightly as they swayed slowly to the music. Even though he had made the decision to distance himself from her he had considered doing just that as soon as the next slow song played. But before that could happen she climbed the staircase and headed down the hall; out of sight. He figured she was going to her bedroom to be alone.
He felt like an ass.
Junior could remember his promise to Awilda on the rooftop two weeks ago. He told her he would always be there for her. He vowed that nothing would ever change that. And look at him now; ignoring her because he was afraid of his own potential inadequacy. He looked up to the top of the stairs with tightened lips and a furrowed brow. He knew it was time to cut out this bullshit. He didn’t know how much time he had left with Awilda Rose and spending it like this was insane. He needed to explain himself and apologize. Maybe they would have enough time left together to rekindle a friendship, at least.
Junior left the reception and climbed the stairs.