The Sweetest Charade

by Jadesola James

  She took one of the tiny pills from Nicky, reached for his drink, and washed it down. He laughed out loud, tilted his head. “Go easy, Delly.”

  Delysia shook her head and drained the foul-tasting liquor. “This is terrible,” she announced. “I’d like another.”

  “Your wish is my command.” Nicky leaned in to signal the bartender, still chuckling under his breath.

  * * *

  The Lyon’s Den turned out to be the type of place that Alexander had only seen in films. Concrete floors and walls, shadowy corners, music that seemed to make the very foundations of the building shake. Attractive women in very short skirts added to the party atmosphere, pouring drinks and flirting with customers. The place smelled of alcohol, perfume, sweat, and hair products, and was stiflingly hot. He felt overwhelmed as soon as he got past the doorman—he didn’t even know where to start.

  “Excuse me,” he said to one of the waitstaff.

  She stopped, saw his tux, and did a double take. “Yes?”

  “I’m trying to find someone, please.”

  She gave him an aggravated look, but pulled a mini-tablet out of the large kangaroo pocket in the front of her miniskirt. “Name of party?”

  “Oh, it’s not—” He paused. Party? She had left angry at him; he doubted she’d had a reservation. “Her name is Delysia Daniels.”

  The woman stuck her tongue in her cheek and rapidly studied her tablet. “No one by that name here.”

  Alexander consulted his Instagram feed—no, they were there all right. Eden had posted shots, shots, shots! alongside the picture of a drink that appeared to be on fire. “She’s with Eden Kim?”

  “Eden Kim?” The woman checked again. “Oh. Yeah. They took a private room about a half hour ago...room five,” she finished.

  “Private room?” Great. She was already angry enough without him crashing her private space. “I’ve got her wallet, you see, and I need to give it to her—”

  “Well, I’m not going to do that.” The woman looked aggravated. “You’re going to have to either do the lost and found or go find her.”

  “I—yes. Very well.”

  The woman rattled off fast directions, then disappeared into the crowd. Alexander sighed and squared his shoulders, then navigated his way across the dance floor. He was bumped and jostled—and, disturbingly, grinded on—but made it to the back of the club, where black doors with gilt doorknobs indicated the VIP spaces. He tapped once at room five’s door. He could hear movement inside. Laughter, actually. Giggles, feminine ones, and a crash, as if someone hit a wall. Then even more hysterical laughter.

  He was about to push the door open when it swung open of its own accord. A tall, broad-shouldered man barreled through, raking a hand over his dark hair and mumbling under his breath. He barely looked at Alexander before melting into the dance floor.

  Alexander contemplated leaving—he was obviously not Delysia, nor Eden Kim—but decided to have at least a quick peek before looking elsewhere. He pushed the door open just enough to put his eye up to it, poised to make a quick getaway if the room was empty or contained more strangers.

  The room was so dim it took him a moment to see what was going on. The soupy light revealed two figures—a woman bent over someone lying prostrate on the floor, holding a phone up at eye level. The woman with the phone tilted it at a few different angles, then she knelt.

  Alexander had no idea what made him keep watching, but he did—at least long enough to recognize the woman when she half-turned and the weak light fell on her face. It was Eden. She squatted to get a closer shot of the woman on the floor, who he didn’t recognize at first, at least not until he saw those unmistakable black curls.

  “Dear God,” he muttered, and pushed open the door completely. Eden started like a frightened cat. Her eyes widened with shock, then fear. She straightened so quickly that she dropped her phone. It bounced off Delysia’s shoulder, but she didn’t move.

  By this time he was beside them. He didn’t know what his face looked like, but he guessed it must be pretty formidable, because Eden took a full step back.

  “What the hell happened?” he said, and looked down. Delysia’s shirt was stained with what looked like red wine. He could see her chest rising and falling, though. Thank God for that. “What happened to her?”

  “She’s fine.” Eden’s voice was high. Shaky, even. “She had too much to drink, is all, and she just—toppled over—”

  “And you took pictures of that?”

  Eden blanched.

  “I saw you, Eden. Through the door,” Alexander snapped. Panic was rising in his chest. He knelt on the floor and cupped Delysia’s cheek; the skin felt cool, but not unnaturally so, thank God. He stroked it lightly. She lifted her chin, murmured something inaudible.

  “She hasn’t been here long enough to drink herself into a stupor. We’re going to have to take her to the hospital.” Alexander sat on the floor and gently lifted Delysia’s head into his lap. That did make her stir a bit; she focused blearily on him, opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He ran a hand over her head, tenderly. “Sweetheart, you’re fine.”

  Her breathing was good and her hands were damp but warm. He looked over at Eden, who was twisting the ends of her hair so tightly round her fingers they were turning white. “Alexander, I swear to God I have no idea—”

  “You were filming her on the floor,” Alexander said. He felt sick to his stomach. “What the hell, Eden.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “I saw you. And that’s what I’m going to tell security.”

  At that, Eden went white. “You’ve got no proof.”

  She was right, he didn’t, but that wasn’t his main concern. “Get me a bottle of water. And call 911.”

  “Alexander—” Real fear crossed her face.

  “Do it now!”

  Eden skittered off to the booth seating at the other end of the room and produced a bottle of Perrier. Alexander spilled some onto a handkerchief and used it to dab at Delysia’s lips, her cheeks, her neck. Eden was hovering over them, still gripping her phone in her hands. Delysia moaned a little and began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered.

  “Call 911, Eden,” Alexander said without looking up.

  Delysia apparently processed that enough to lift her head and try to answer. “No...no ambulance.”

  “It’d be the kiss of death if it got out,” Eden whispered.

  “Are you people kidding me?”

  “You don’t get it. If the police came, they’d ask questions, and it’d be on the public record, and—”

  “Damage your brand,” Alexander said, thoroughly disgusted.

  Eden bit her lip.

  Alexander felt Delysia stir in his lap again; she was trying to sit up. He helped her, and she sighed deep, leaned her head on his chest.

  “Sleepy,” she said softly, then closed her eyes. “No police.”

  He was about to open his mouth when Eden cleared her throat. “Alexander?”

  He looked up.

  “What if I could... I would guarantee that...” Eden paused. “She’ll be sleepy for a while, but she didn’t take anything that will do anything...permanent. I swear. She’ll just have a bad hangover.”

  “And you know this because...?”

  Eden didn’t say anything.

  “You’re disgusting.” Alexander cradled Delysia close to him. Even through alcohol and his own nervous sweat, he could smell the subtly sweet fragrance that was her hallmark. She felt slight in his arms, so unlike her usual presence.

  “Sweetheart?” he said quietly. It wasn’t for show this time.

  She turned her head slowly, as if it hurt. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, and closed her eyes again.

  Alexander swore. Then, he looked up at Eden. The look in his eyes must have held some malevolence, because the young woman ba
cked up, bit her lip.

  “I will wait,” he said with deadly calm, “exactly thirty minutes. If she isn’t better, I’m calling an ambulance, and you’re telling them exactly what fucking happened to her.”

  “Alexander, I swear to God, whatever she’s on, she took it herself—”

  “And while you’re at it, you can delete those pictures.” His voice was strange to him, cold, almost detached. “You’re a foul little—” He bit back the word he wanted to use, and swallowed instead. He’d think of something, deal with Eden later.

  Now, all that mattered was the woman in his arms.

  * * *

  Delysia had never been much of a drinker, and the experience she’d just had pretty much guaranteed she’d never be one. By the time they left the club, she was lucid enough to be able to walk, supported by Alexander’s strong arm around her waist. She could speak, albeit from a throat that felt like it’d been attacked by whisky-flavored cotton balls. What hadn’t improved, though, was the pounding at her temples.

  “You’re going to feel terrible for quite some time,” Alexander told her with his usual gentleness.

  He called a car for them, hoisted her in, watched her intently as they drove. She was sitting at an awkward angle, trying desperately not to touch any part of his body, or to throw up (embarrassingly enough, he’d produced a paper bag that she knew was for that purpose, no matter how he tried to hide it). He asked her questions every couple minutes or so—probably to ensure that she was still conscious—and she answered woodenly, without meeting his eyes. Eden had been there when she’d come to, but she’d left. Too bad. Delysia would have welcomed her company, if only because she would have been distracted from the embarrassment.

  “Delysia,” Alexander was saying. He took her hand and rubbed it between both of his; they were comfortingly large and warm, and Delysia suddenly wanted to cry, from humiliation and tiredness and from the fact that she still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t manage not to throw up before they reached the train. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood, but she welcomed it. Anything to keep her conscious and keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged...

  “Delysia,” he said again.

  She made a sound without turning to look at his face.

  “How are you feeling?”

  In response, Delysia turned her head away completely, resting it on the cool glass of the back seat window. “You’re gonna have to get out if she’s gonna be sick” was the last thing she heard before drifting off into an uncomfortable and dreamless sleep.

  When she came to again, it was Alexander gently shaking her shoulder. “Delysia, sweetheart. We’re here.”

  His voice was gentle and warm. It crept through her icy skin to her very bones, heating her from the inside. She lifted her head and fumbled with the door. The cabbie, eager to be rid of her, opened it with a click, and she pushed it open and instantly almost fell out. Her legs simply weren’t working correctly.

  “I’m here, Delysia.” Alexander again, and she found herself cradled, lifted in his arms. He steadied her on her feet and the two walked painstakingly to the elevators on the platform that would take them up to where the train was stationed for the night. Luckily there were few passengers at this time, and none she recognized. It was too late for most day-to-day customers to be out, and too early for the revelers on the train to have arrived back to their staterooms.

  She enjoyed the two extremes, the icy air cut into her nausea a bit, and the warmth of Alexander’s body was equally soothing. She was still drowsy enough not to push him away, although everything in her brain was screaming at her to do so. She wasn’t stupid. She’d clean the floor with her ass if she let go of him.

  When they reached their suite, Delysia was still unable to walk by herself, although she was completely lucid, no longer fading in and out. A throbbing had begun behind her eyes and at her temples. The moment Alexander lowered her to the couch, she felt her stomach lurch.

  “Alexander—” was all she managed to rasp out, but she guessed that the look on her face was enough to tip him off. There wasn’t any time to get to the washroom. She barely saw the porcelain basin before emptying the contents of her stomach into it.

  “I knew you were going to do that,” he murmured, and she felt his fingers slide over her head, holding her hair back. He was saying quiet, encouraging things, pausing occasionally to rub her back. She gagged, did it again.

  “Just get it all out,” he said quietly.

  She managed to inhale, a shaky, wet sound that was supremely unattractive. When she sagged back into the sofa cushions tears were running down her cheeks—tears of humiliation, mostly. She’d never done something so disgusting in front of another person, not since she’d turned twenty-one and had her first glass of wine.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course I’m not,” she snapped, but it came out as a whisper. The tears were coming faster now. Alexander pulled back a little, looked hurt, but he didn’t answer, just got up and disappeared with the basin. When he came back it was with a towel that he’d soaked in hot water.

  “Here,” he said, and Delysia pressed the soft white cloth to her face. She smelled lavender and vanilla; the heat was wonderfully soothing and she felt the tension behind her eyes loosen, just a bit. She couldn’t manage to stop the water streaming out of her eyes, though. She’d graduated to actual sobs, and when Alexander sat beside her and placed a large warm hand on her back, she cried all the harder.

  “Don’t do that, I smell awful—” and the thought of that set her off again. Alexander made soothing clicking noises with his tongue. He attempted to pull her close, but she shook her head violently. “Stop it.”

  “Delysia.”

  “Just go!”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. Not until I know you’re fine. I’ll stay on the other side of the room if you want, but I won’t leave you.”

  I won’t leave you. Somehow the simply spoken words set her off again.

  “Delysia, please stop crying, sweetheart. Your head is going to ache.”

  “Don’t call me that, there aren’t—any—cameras here,” she spit out reproachfully. “You don’t—have—to—”

  “Delysia—”

  “This is so goddamn embarrassing,” she whispered, and turned her back.

  He hesitated before speaking. “Delysia. I owe you an apology. I know this isn’t the time for it, but—I should have defended you. I’m sorry.”

  Delysia’s lips were beginning to feel very dry; she also wasn’t sure that she wasn’t going to be sick again. She picked up the cooling towel from where it was soaking into the fine upholstery of the sofa, and pressed it to her cheeks.

  “Delysia—”

  “Please don’t say my name like that.” She suddenly felt very weary, and very sad. “Why would you defend me? Your cousin was right.”

  “Delysia—”

  “Do you know that my mother thinks I’m still in medical school, Alexander? And that I work part-time in a laboratory, and that’s how I support her?” She laughed raggedly. “I lie to her, every single day, because if she knew what I did she’d be ashamed of me. And you think what I do is stupid, too.”

  “Delysia, I don’t—”

  “You do. You and your books and your doctorate. You’ve looked down on me since the beginning. And you know what? I don’t give a shit, because I’ve earned every penny honestly, and it’s keeping my mother alive. And I’m not going to apologize for it, not to you or to your vile cousin.”

  The declaration took quite a bit out of her, and Delysia leaned back, feeling as if someone was drilling through her skull.

  “Delysia, I’m sorry,” Alexander said quietly. “And you’re right, except for one thing—I’ve never looked down on you. Rather, I think you’re one of the most extraordinary women I’ve ever met. And I’m going to regr
et not defending you for a very long time.”

  She didn’t say anything, just turned her head to the side.

  Alexander was silent for a long moment. Then he stood and left. Delysia didn’t move; she was afraid she’d hurl again.

  When Alexander came back, he was carrying a tray with a carafe of ice water, a bottle of mouthwash, ibuprofen, and three hot, damp hand towels, rolled up and smelling of lavender and lemon. Delysia eyed him, and his mouth tilted, not in a smile, but a bit remorsefully.

  “Don’t speak to me if you want, but please let me stay with you,” he said simply. “I feel responsible.”

  “You’re not responsible for me.”

  “No. But if we hadn’t quarreled, you wouldn’t have gone off with Eden.”

  At the mention of her name, Delysia’s eyes welled up again. Jesus, when would she stop crying? “I’d like some water and medicine, please,” she said roughly, and in an instant Alexander had tucked two pills in her hand and supported her head up to sip. The pills went down. For one terrifying moment she wondered if they would stay down, but they did. She took another sip.

  “I probably should have called into poison control to ask if pain relief was okay,” muttered Alexander. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve got a hangover from the pits of hell.” Delysia took another deep breath and tried two tiny sips this time.

  Alexander’s lips thinned. “When I came into the room, I saw Eden on the ground with you, and she was...she had her phone with her. I think she was trying to take pictures.”

  “What?” Delysia whispered. She suddenly felt very cold and very hot at the same time. She was fully aware of their rivalry, but she hadn’t any idea Eden hated her that much. And Alexander was still talking.

  “I don’t think she posted them anywhere—I threatened her. But, Delysia...” He trailed off. “I wanted to call the police, but you—”

  “I said no.” She swallowed down a new wave of nausea with some effort, and groped for the mouthwash. When she spit it out, she managed through very dry lips, “If the police had come and it’d gotten out, it would have ruined everything. For this trip, I mean.”