The Pull of Destiny

by Hotcheri

  Faith, who had been gazing at CiCi with an adoring look on her face, leaned closer to her. “Don’t worry; I said nice things about you.”

  “Of course you did, you sweetie,” CiCi replied, making a playful face at Faith.

  Not wanting to be left out of the loop, I nudged CiCi. “I said nice things about you too,” I told her, winking cheekily.

  Wrong thing to say.

  “He said he was excited you’re his date and he’ll kiss you,” Faith said in hushed tones, her eyes sparkling with glee. Shit. Out of the mouths of babes...

  CiCi quickly glanced at me, her eyes wide with surprise and I quickly corrected Faith, feeling my cheeks flush.

  “Your hand. I told her I’ll kiss your hand when we dance,” I explained, feeling slightly embarrassed and even worse, hot and bothered.

  “Oh,” CiCi said, looking relieved. Unfortunately, Faith was on a roll.

  “I told him to. Like Prince Charming in Cinderella.” She leaned closer still to CiCi to ‘whisper’ in her ear. But you know how kid’s whispers are the loudest things out there, so I heard every word. “Do you wanna know what I heard Joanna tell Wendy?”

  Little eavesdropper. I wondered what Faith could have possibly overheard those two talking about, and where. I didn’t have too long to find out.

  Looking suitably interested, CiCi asked, “What?”

  “He’s a good kisser!” Faith shot me a proud look as I groaned, putting my head in my hands. Why were siblings so inappropriate?

  “Really?” CiCi said, a laugh in her voice, but Faith- she wasn’t done.

  “How can she tell he’s a good kisser?” she asked curiously, looking up at CiCi.

  Before CiCi could answer (and I had a strong feeling she was about to) I put a hand over Faith’s mouth, effectively silencing the beast. “Enough, little sis.”

  While Faith struggled to get my hand off her mouth (so she could embarrass me even more? I didn’t think so) Hope apparently agreed with me that enough was enough. “I’m sure Celsi’s not interested in all that,” she said dismissively. “That’s a gorgeous dress, by the way. You look very pretty in it.”

  CiCi beamed at Hope, her face lighting up. “Thank you, Hope.”

  “So I hear you’re helping Luke with his list?” Hope asked.

  CiCi nodded. “I’m trying to,” she said, shrugging self-depreciatingly.

  Obviously, she didn’t realize how much it meant to me that she was willing to drop whatever she was doing just because I asked. Like today, she could have been at Aisha’s fashion show to cheer on Shazia, but instead she was here with me. And how did that make me feel? Pretty special.

  Hope smiled at me, a look I couldn’t read in her eyes. “Judging from the way Luke’s been acting lately, you’re doing more than just trying. I’d say you being around him is a very good thing.”

  Oh, God, not another feel good speech from Hope! Even though CiCi being around me was a good thing, did Hope have to say it before I could?

  Still, it was worth having Hope embarrass me to see the pleased as punch look on CiCi’s face. I just loved it when she smiled. “Thanks, Hope.”

  “Yeah, Hope, thanks for embarrassing me in front of my date,” I said playfully, slinging my arm over the back of CiCi’s chair.

  “I’m just stating the truth,” Hope went on relentlessly. “It’s been so long since I heard Luke whistle, but all of a sudden I hear him singing in the shower.” She gave CiCi a deeply meaningful look. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.” CiCi looked bemused but happy as Hope continued. “He needs a friend like you now more than ever.”

  Way to talk about me like I wasn’t even there!

  CiCi smiled at me, her eyes shining, making my heart skip a beat and I didn’t know why.

  Yes, you do.

  “Then I’ll be the best friend I can be,” she said softly, a shy smile curving up her lips.

  I smiled back at her as a waiter came by our table with a menu, giving CiCi the chance to change the subject. I was kinda glad. Hope meant well, but she could be pretty intense. At least Faith had decided to shut up and was playing on her Nintendo DS for the time being.

  Running a hand through her hair, CiCi twisted in her seat to look around the ballroom.

  “Is your dad here?” she asked me curiously.

  I nodded, jerking my head in the direction of the wet bar. “Yeah, he’s probably at the bar, knocking back shots,” I replied, leaning back on my chair.

  Hope gave me a look. “Luke,” she said disapprovingly, bringing her tweezed eyebrows together.

  Jeeze, a guy can’t speak the truth anymore?

  Deciding that getting into an argument with Hope on dad’s precise location wasn’t worth it, I backtracked.

  “Okay, my dad’s probably not at the bar, knocking back shots.” CiCi looked confused. Who would blame her? I was confusing myself! “There’s my dad.”

  I pointed to the bar, where dad and company were indeed knocking back shots.

  Don’t act like I never told you.

  Flustered, Hope quickly defended her husband. “He’s just joining his friends in a pre-dinner drink,” she said, laughing shrilly as she tried to convince CiCi that dad wasn’t well on his way to becoming an alcoholic.

  We all fell silent as we watched dad take a final sip of whatever he was drinking, stand up and walk to our table. Shit. I felt dread rising in my stomach as he strode purposefully towards our table, beaming for once at the sight of CiCi. If there was one thing that Lucas George Astor Senior loved more than money and booze, it was a beautiful woman. And, well- CiCi was a beautiful woman.

  “Well, well, well, you must be my son’s date,” he rumbled, staring at CiCi in stark admiration as she started to get to her feet as a sign of respect. Dad waved her back into her seat. “Don’t get up on my account.”

  “Dad, this is Celsi Sawyer,” I spoke up, feeling that a formal introduction was in order. “CiCi, this is my dad, Lucas Astor Senior.”

  CiCi smiled timidly at dad and was awarded with a 4 million kilowatt grin in return. “Good evening, Mr. Astor, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said as her foot tapped nervously on the floor.

  “My, and you’ve got manners, too!” Dad roared with laughter at something that really wasn’t funny and I nearly rolled my eyes. He wasn’t drunk yet, but he was close. Which was a sign of bad things to come. Because when dad was drunk, or even slightly tipsy, his mental filter was non-existent. “Where’d my son find you? I’m impressed.”

  He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward to presumably hear CiCi’s answer better. Or maybe to look down the front of her dress, I’m not sure.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I muttered sarcastically while CiCi smiled uncertainly, obviously unsure of what to make of the new situation she was in.

  “Where’d you two meet?” dad asked CiCi.

  “We go to school together,” she replied.

  Dad nodded. “About time Dalton had some ethnic diversity, huh? Especially since all the Legacy students are good for is getting high, drunk and sexed up in the school bathrooms.”

  He shot a triumphant look at me as I pretended to stare at my hands. There he goes, always trying to get a shot in at me. I rolled my eyes and said nothing.

  The waiter arrived and started taking our orders as dad shot questions at poor CiCi. I squirmed in anticipation of what was to come. As soon as he found out that CiCi wasn’t who he evidently thought she was... I was dead.

  “So you’re a Sawyer?” was his first question.

  CiCi nodded brightly. “Yes, sir.”

  Tapping his temple, dad said, “I know a Martin Sawyer from Staten Island. The media mogul.” Namedropper. “Related to you?”

  Shaking her head, CiCi said “No, sir. But I’ve heard of him.”

  “Of course you have,” dad said wisely, as though everyone had heard of this Martin Sawyer. I sure hadn’t, not that my opinion counted. He snapped his fingers, making Faith jump. “Okay,
I’ve got it. Yvonne Sawyer, the Bostonian actress. You’re related to her!”

  Biting her lip, CiCi shook her head. “Uh, no, sir. I’m pretty sure I’m not related to her.”

  Dad scrutinized her and went off on another tangent. “Where do you live? Park, Madison?” he barked at her, sounding like a deranged drill sergeant.

  “I live in East Harlem.”

  Ever the trooper, dad strove to salvage something from their conversation, which was steadily going downhill. “Upper Yorkville? With the yuppies?”

  “Um, no. I live in the projects,” CiCi replied hesitantly.

  Dad drummed his fingers on the table, digesting this. Finally, he looked up at CiCi, and to my surprise, he was smiling. “You’re joking, right?” he asked, almost pleading.

  I snapped a bread stick in half, wishing I could hit dad over the head with it. He would deserve it. What the hell was wrong with him?

  CiCi glanced at me out of the corner of her eye then looked at dad again. “Uh, no, sir. I really do live in the projects. The Robert F. Wagner houses, to be exact.”

  CiCi said this with a touch of pride that I respected. Even though she lived in the hood, it was home to her and nobody could take that away from her. Not even my dad, even though it was clear he wanted to try.

  “Dad, just leave it alone,” I groaned, glaring at him.

  But a knowing smile spread across the man’s face as he stabbed a finger in CiCi’s direction. “I get it! It’s part of a humanitarian outreach program, right?” he exclaimed, sounding pleased with himself for figuring out the puzzle. Identical expressions of confusion flickered over Hope and CiCi’s faces as dad nodded in satisfaction. “You give up your cushy existence in some Park Avenue penthouse to see how the other half lives, right?”

  My bread stick was now little more than crumbs in my napkin as I listened to the ridiculous conversation.

  CiCi sounded baffled. “What do you mean?”

  “You and your family trade places with a poor family to spend some time in their shoes while they live in yours, right? Kind of like ‘Trading Spouses’, only this time you’re trading houses and neighbourhoods.”

  I didn’t know what was weirder, the fact that dad actually watched Trading Spouses or the fact that he was trying this hard to convince himself that CiCi didn’t come from money.

  What was his problem?

  A lot.

  Shaking her head, CiCi looked at me, totally confused. “I’m from a poor family, Mr. Astor,” she said slowly. “I’ve lived in the hood all my life.”

  Dad’s mouth made a little ‘o’ of surprise, which might have been funny under different circumstances, but was not funny right now.

  I braced myself as, ignoring CiCi completely, he turned to me.

  D-day.

  “What the hell is this?” he growled over Hope’s head.

  I let out a breath. “Dad, let’s not do this right now,” I said calmly, even though I felt anything but calm. The man had issues and I wanted to punch him out. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Yeah right.

  “Not a big deal?” Dad let out a bark of sarcastic laughter. “I gave you one simple directive- find a suitable date for tonight.” He gestured at a wide-eyed CiCi, who was sitting so still I wasn’t sure she was breathing. “You find a beautiful date that doesn’t have two pennies to rub together! And you say it’s not a big deal?”

  Snidely, I said, “It could be coz I’m not a snob,” even though I should have kept my mouth shut.

  Dad turned back to CiCi, glaring at her. “How’d you get into Dalton?” he asked sternly.

  Quietly, CiCi replied, “I’m on Financial Aid.”

  “Of course. I should have guessed.” Dad looked disgusted. “What-.”

  Hope stepped in to save the day. Putting a hand on dad’s arm, she said, “Lucas, please. Not in front of Faith.” Dad looked at Faith, who was staring with wide, scared eyes and subsided. “Let’s try to have a nice, civil dinner.”

  Thumping on the table, dad muttered, “Where’s the damn waiter, I need a drink.”

  Our food arrived and we ate, Hope trying valiantly to keep the conversation flowing. CiCi joined in and Faith had a ton of stories about her teddy bears and Barbie’s, but dad didn’t say a word. He just shovelled down his food, refilling his wine glass every few minutes. And I just pushed my food around my plate, my appetite gone.

  I felt so humiliated and embarrassed that I couldn’t even look in CiCi’s direction. Now that she knew exactly what my dad was like, there was no way she would want to help me with my list. Not that that was the most important thing. She wouldn’t want to hang out with me either, which actually sucked, strangely enough. Or maybe not strangely enough since I had gotten quite used to CiCi over the past few weeks.

  When dinner was over, (and not a moment too soon) and dad stood up to receive his award and give his speech, I leaned over to CiCi to whisper, “Sorry,” in her ear. And somehow managed to refrain from nibbling on it. There’s just something about ears and CiCi’s looked made for nibbling. I pushed that disturbing thought out of my head as she smiled at me.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered back but I shook my head adamantly.

  “It’s not okay. He’s messed up. And I messed up.” I sighed. “I should have warned you that he can be a dick.”

  CiCi patted my arm, her touch making my skin tingle through my shirt. “Relax, Luke,” she said cheerfully. I stared at her. She didn’t seem offended or unhappy. “I’m having fun.”

  Say what?

  In disbelief, I asked, “Really?”

  “Aren’t you having fun?”

  I shrugged. “I’m trying to, but-.”

  CiCi gave me a contented look. “I guess it’s because this is the first major social event I’ve ever been to,” she explained, tapping the side of her water glass with her hot pink fingernail. God, they looked sexy. “So it’ll take more than a couple comments to spoil my night.”

  I bit my lip, smiling at her. “You’re a sweetheart,” I whispered in her ear, sensing Wendy’s eyes on us from her table.

  In the back of my mind, I wondered if she was just pretending that all the stuff my dad had said didn’t faze her.

  “Thanks,” she said in a soft and rather sexy voice. Pursing her lips up, she suddenly looked very kissable and I tried to push that thought away. How the hell could I focus on anything when the thought of kissing her was in my head? And why was I thinking of kissing her? “I get where your dad’s coming from, though.”

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise, glad to have something (anything!) take my mind off kissing her. “What do you mean?”

  She brushed a few strands of hair from her eyes as I stared at her, feeling an urge to do it myself. I almost groaned out loud. What was wrong with me, thinking about CiCi like that? It’s all Joanna's fault. Insinuating that I wanted to ‘nail’ CiCi. I didn’t, but apparently the idea was lodged in my mind for good. I couldn’t take my eyes off her lips as she spoke. How come I never noticed that she had a slight gap between her front teeth? Obviously something in the air was getting to me, or something in my flat water. There was no other way to explain why I was suddenly checking CiCi out.

  Totally oblivious to my scrutiny, CiCi said ,“I mean, you’re Luke Astor.”

  “I know,” I sighed glumly, tearing my eyes from her face to glance at my dad, who was still waxing lyrical about himself.

  CiCi blinked at me before continuing. “What I mean is, you could have had your pick of New York City’s elite, but you chose a poor girl like me.”

  Snorting, I said, “Why does everyone keep pointing that out?” in a quiet voice so that Hope and Faith wouldn’t hear. I was getting sick and tired of hearing the same thing over and over. “Sure, you’re poor, but I don’t care!”

  “I know you don’t care,” CiCi nodded, looking pleased. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m super glad that you asked me. But just because you’re cool with me being poor doesn’t mean everyone else is
, you know?”

  Running a hand through my hair, I let out a breath. I knew what she meant, but I didn’t like the way knowing what she meant made me feel.

  “But since I’m the one who asked you here, everybody else doesn’t matter,” I told her, suddenly feeling possessive of her feelings.

  She flushed prettily. “Now you’re being the sweetheart.”

  I grinned. “Don’t tell anyone, though. It’ll ruin my reputation,” I joked.

  Smiling, she said, “Done.” Her smile faded as she stared at dad on the podium. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that if I was your dad and my son pulled something like this, I wouldn’t be too happy either.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “You’re defending him?”

  “What?” CiCi looked at me, a confused expression flitting across her face. “Well-.”

  “Because you don’t have to.” I shook my head. “I know he’s wrong.”

  “I’m just saying his reason for being mad is valid.”

  “He just wants to bitch about something,” I muttered, glaring at my water glass. “It’s not even about you, he just wants to make me mad.”

  “Why?”

  I looked up to find CiCi gazing at me, a troubled look on her pretty face.

  Waving my hand in dismissal, I replied, “Who knows? All I know is nothing he could say would make me regret asking you to be my date.”

  And I meant it.

  “Thanks, Luke,” CiCi breathed, a smile on her face.

  I smiled back, patting her knee and trying to ignore the thrill I got from touching her. Maybe my water was spiked with some kind of aphrodisiac. That would explain everything. “Thank you for understanding.”

  Dad’s long, boring speech ended finally and as he stepped down from the podium, the Master of Ceremonies announced that the dance floor was open.

  Award in hand, dad sauntered back to our table, being stopped by well-wishers wanting to congratulate him. Out of nowhere, a photographer appeared to take a group shot of us.

  “I hope this isn’t in the news,” CiCi whispered to me as I wiped my patented ‘public’ smile off my face as soon as the camera flash went off. “Nate would freak!”