by C. J. Pinard
And then there was that night they had shared together.
She had a little schoolgirl crush on him. It was probably more lust if she were honest with herself. She found him very attractive and probably shouldn’t have given in to him when he came on to her that day, but she couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t been with anyone but Pascal for almost thirty years.
Oh, Pascal.
Pascal had found her in Denver in 1984. Suffering abuse at the hands of her stepfather after her mother’s death, she’d left home at sixteen and lived mostly on the streets until she got very lucky and secured a job as a waitress in a Playboy-type club at age nineteen. The owner of the club, Eddie, had taken a liking to her and took her under his wing, so to speak. He told her she was beautiful and paid for private lessons so she could dance onstage and make herself some nice money, and of course some money for the club, too.
He had emphasized her assets, that blonde-haired, blue-eyed dancers were in high demand, and that she was absolutely perfect for the job. She was told she was almost flawless and just needed a little procedure that would help them make even more money.
He was, of course, talking about breast implants.
At first, I hated the size-Ds. I was only a size four in clothing and the breasts were cumbersome and hurt my back. Not to mention they looked ridiculous and fake. I mean, how the hell am I going to go through life with these… things? But, I had rent to pay. I figured once I got old, like forty, I’d have them removed as my ‘career’ as a dancer would be well over by then.
One night while doing a slow, methodical dance to Tina Turner’s “Private Dancer”, dressed in nothing but red leather – which was quickly being tossed onto the stage floor – I eyed a very handsome customer sitting near the front row. He was pale, and appeared to have short-cropped black hair and piercing crystal blue eyes; however, upon closer inspection, I could see his hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck. I smiled at him and he smiled back. My stomach did a little flip-flop.
After my shift was over and I was exiting the club through the back door, a large white limousine was parked out back. I spied the limo, finding it odd that it was parked there, but I kept walking.
“Angel!”
I whipped my head around at the sound of my stage name and saw the handsome stranger with the pretty eyes standing in front of the limo. His legs were crossed at the ankles and he had his hands in the pockets of his belted Z-Cavaricci pants. He was smiling at me. Wow, was he hot.
I walked slowly over to the car, but stayed about five feet away from him. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Pascal. Would you like to go for a ride?”
I frowned at him. “I ain’t no hooker.”
He let out a mirthful laugh. “I know that, dear. I was only asking if you’d like a ride, nothing more.”
I looked around and adjusted my backpack. “Did you clear this with Eddie?”
He shook his head. “No, can’t say I know any Eddie to speak of.”
I looked around again, then back to the stranger. He was very nice-looking with expensive clothes and a rock star accent. He obviously had a limo, so I naively didn’t see the harm in a ride and shrugged. “Okay, what the hell.”
As we slid into the back of the limo, I took in the interior and was in awe. There was a small television built into the wall and a bar with real glasses and bottles of booze of every type lining the other wall. I had always wondered what these cars looked like on the inside.
“Care for a drink?” he asked, holding up an empty glass.
I set my backpack on the floor of the limo and replied, “Um, sure.”
He handed me a glass of tequila and I sputtered and coughed after downing the pungent liquid. “Ahh, what is this?”
Pascal laughed again. “It’s Mexican piss water.”
I smiled. “Funny. So tell me, exotic stranger, what is it you want from me?”
He slowly slid toward me, never taking his eyes off mine. He ran his nose along my neck, inhaling. I froze momentarily and waited for him to do something. Then he began running kisses up my neck. I remained frozen.
“Listen, man, I told you, I’m not for rent. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but…”
My rambling was cut short by the most god-awful sharp pain in my neck I had ever felt, followed by an ear-piercing scream I realized was my own.
Angel’s eyes snapped open when she realized she had been dreaming about the past. She saw Pascal standing in the doorway, smiling.
CHAPTER 2
∞∞∞
South Shields, England – 1809
The next day, since he had the day off again, he walked along the cobblestone streets until he reached the outskirts of town and traveled a kilometer until he reached Amelia’s cottage. He knocked on the heavy wooden door.
“Aye. What do you want, kid?” Amelia’s father answered, looking none too happy.
Sebastian removed his pageboy cap. “Sir, I wish to speak to Amelia.”
Her father narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Wait here.”
He closed the heavy door, and after about three minutes, Amelia emerged. Her straight brown hair was braided neatly and her brown eyes showed surprise when she saw Sebastian.
“Wow, this is… unexpected. Why are you not working?” she asked, stepping out onto the stoop, closing the door behind her.
“Let us walk,” Sebastian said, holding out a hand to her.
Amelia took a glance behind at her house and then grabbed his proffered hand and the two began to walk hand in hand.
Once they had reached a small, grassy hill, Sebastian took his light coat off and laid it on the ground, indicating for her to sit.
When they were both seated, he grabbed Amelia’s hand. “I know we had plans for a picnic this weekend, but I was moved to the nightshift today and wanted to spend the day with you,” Sebastian smiled.
She smiled weakly back at him. “Well that was quite a far way for you to travel for just a short couple of hours.”
“It was worth it. I hate every second I am away from you,” Sebastian replied, grinning.
Uncomfortable, she changed the subject. “So why were you moved to the nightshift?”
“I’m not sure. Big Joe told me I was needed at night on the day before last, then yesterday Aiden told me I was again going to be working the nightshift. He and I were talking last night, you know,” Sebastian said, fixing her with a stare.
“Talking about what?” she asked, interested.
“Well, I told him I wanted to move to France, and he said America was where things were really happening. What do you think about that?”
She looked a little confused and asked, “What does it matter what I think?”
He gave her the same confused look. “We talked about this. I wanted to take you to France, but what about America instead?”
She took her eyes off of him and stared at the ground, plucking a piece of grass. “Sebastian, I can’t move. I am learning to be a seamstress and have to help my parents with their business. Besides, I have no interest in leaving England,” she finished on a whisper.
He got angry. “Amelia. What are you talking about? We have talked about this!”
Amelia stood up and brushed the grass from her dress. A warm summer breeze blew her dress around her ankles. “No, Sebastian, you talked about it. I never agreed to that. I mean, I barely know you. And for whatever reason, my father doesn’t like you. He’s advised that he’s not giving me his blessing if I continue on with you.”
Sebastian was growing angrier. “This is all news to me! Why have you not said anything earlier? I thought we were moving forward just dandy. I was preparing to ask your father for permission to propose to you!”
He was now standing, and she was backing away from him.
“I, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.
He went toward her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Amelia, please tell me you feel for me wh
at I feel for you? Please tell me this love I have for you will not go unrequited?”
“Sebastian, I, I, I don’t know,” she finished quietly.
He whipped around in a huff and headed back in the direction they had come, leaving her trailing behind.
He didn’t bother to walk her to the doorstep of her cottage, instead continuing to walk fast, back into town. His mind reeled the entire way there, and by the time he reached his father’s shoemaker shop, he was in no mood for his family. He had no intentions of going into the shop, but as he passed by to take the alleyway staircase up to his flat, his brother poked his head out of the door. He was wearing a heavy apron and was holding the frame of a shoe in his left hand.
“Sebastian! Come here, look at this!”
Sebastian reluctantly went into the shop and said, “What?”
Silas held up the crude beginnings of a shoe which had nails bolted into the sole and a rough covering of brown leather over the top.
“Look!” Silas said.
Sebastian looked unimpressed and folded his arms. “What am I looking at?”
“My first shoe, crafted it myself.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “That’s great. Can I go now?”
Silas set the shoe down and shoved Sebastian in the chest with both hands. “What is your problem, you sod?”
“Not having a very good day. It’s over between Amelia and me,” Sebastian said, giving in to a moment of vulnerability, based solely on the need for comfort and sympathy.
Silas threw his head back and laughed, his dark brown waves whipping back. “Got yourself dumped, did ya now? Probably because her father doesn’t want his only daughter marryin’ some idiot fisherman!”
Silas continued to laugh as he walked off to the back of the shop, his cackling could be heard as Sebastian bolted out of the store and took the steps two at a time up to his flat to lick his wounds.
Later that evening, on his way to work, Sebastian shuffled along the shoreline, kicking rocks, his mind a mess.
He had no idea how he had misread Amelia’s feelings for him. He couldn’t believe she had rejected him like that. What began as a whirlwind love affair over the past two months was now slipping away like a mudslide on a steep cliff.
Then there was his jackass of a brother. Why did he constantly have to be so cruel? He hated Silas. The sooner he could get the hell out of England, the better.
Sebastian was angry. So very angry.
As he reached the bobbing fishing boat, a cool night breeze blew off the water. He heard a voice calling to him.
“Sebastian! How ya doin’, lad?” Aiden was at the bow of the ship, waving to him.
Sebastian shook his head and proceeded onboard. As he was mounting the squeaky gangplank, he felt drops on his head and looked to the night sky. Anger about the day’s events faded into a mask of concern.
“It looks like rain,” he said, looking into Aiden’s pale face.
Aiden shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, lad. It’s just some sprinkles. I’m sure we’ll still get a good catch tonight.” He winked at Sebastian.
“The catch wasn’t my primary concern,” Sebastian murmured under his breath, heading down the steps into the bowels of the boat to put his satchel away.
As the boat pushed off the shore, they cast the nets and waited, checking periodically and finding they weren’t catching much.
Over a game of cards, Aiden and Sebastian sat down while the rest of the crew went below deck to eat dinner.
“So, are you still interested in America?” Aiden asked.
Sebastian tried to smile but failed. “I don’t know. I suppose.”
“What be the matter, young man?” Aiden asked, turning his head to the right.
“My girl, Amelia… I don’t think I’m going to be marrying her any time soon. Seems she has no interest in leaving the country,” he said in a defeated tone.
Aiden shook his head. “I’m sorry, boy. Women! What do we need ‘em for anyway, right?” He punched Sebastian in the shoulder good-naturedly.
Sebastian let out a humorless laugh. “I suppose.”
Aiden said, “Aw, c’mon, kid, cheer up. Tell you what, next time you work, let’s talk about that boat passage to America. I could use a first-mate, because I’m surely not taking that louse, Big Joe with me when I finally finish my new boat!”
Sebastian perked up. “Really?”
Aiden laughed. “Really!”
As the night wore on, and the catches became more and more scarce, the weather became more and more fierce. Sebastian was concerned that none of the crewmen, nor Captain Aiden, seemed to be distressed by the increasing rainfall.
A bolt of lightning splintered the sky, followed quickly by a boom of thunder. It made Sebastian jump.
He turned and looked at a fellow crewman, a chap named Daniel. He seemed to be the only one alarmed about the weather.
“Don’t you think Aiden should steer the ship toward shore? Not going to catch any fish in this mess!” Sebastian yelled over the sound of the driving rain that was now coming down in sheets.
Daniel nodded. “Aye. This weather is downright dreadful! I need to get the hell off this bloody boat!”
The boat was suddenly taken up by a large wave, which caused it to almost tip over. All the crewmen, including Daniel and Sebastian, cried out as all hands on deck struggled with the ropes to keep control of the ship through the pouring rain and bolts of lightning that lit up the ship’s deck.
Another wave of rough sea slammed into the boat and this time they were not so lucky. The boat capsized, and as Sebastian plunged into the cold water head-first, his last thoughts were of Amelia and how he would never see her again. Then, as his head crashed into something, everything went black.
∞∞∞
Portland, Oregon – Present Day
It had been months since Jonathan’s accident and he was finally cleared to go back in the boxing ring. He could barely contain his excitement.
Inside the Murphy Architecture Building’s gym, Jonathan, Thomas, and Tyler were all standing in the ring wearing nothing but athletic shorts. They were all looking at each other.
Jonathan then made an announcement. “I think it’s time we advanced past boxing. Mixed martial arts, anyone?”
“Yes!” Tyler said, pumping a fist in the air. “I thought you’d never ask! Boxing is so last decade!”
Thomas shook his head. “What in the world is mixed martial arts?”
Jonathan smiled. “Oh, come on. Don’t you see that shit I watch on TV where the guys are punching and kicking each other inside a cage?”
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “That UFC stuff? I thought that was fake.”
Tyler let out a howl of a laugh. “No, it’s not fake. Those dudes make tons of cash doing that. Some can make a year’s salary in one or two fights, if they’re good enough.”
Thomas groaned. “So you think watching it on TV makes you an expert?”
“Yeah, Jonathan, seriously, man, those guys train for hours,” Tyler added.
Jonathan paused and looked at them both. He took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve been training.”
Tyler and Thomas both laughed.
“No, really. Before the accident I was going once a week to a gym downtown. A guy named Zach has been teaching me some moves. It’s not easy, but I think we can learn them, and they will come in handy when we’re in a fight… especially with a shifter,” Jonathan said.
Tyler raised both eyebrows and pointed at him. “Have you been training since breaking your neck?”
“To be honest, doc, yes. But only in the last three weeks and I’ve been taking it easy. They were happy to see me back, but I had to make up an excuse as to why I was gone. I couldn’t tell them I broke my neck and almost died and am up and walking around a month later.”
Thomas nodded. “So what did you tell them?”
Jonathan grinned. “Motorcycle accident. Told them I cracked a vertebra in my neck and had to take it
easy.”
“But you don’t own a motorcycle,” Thomas said.
“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious,” Jonathan replied dryly.
Tyler laughed. “Okay, so show us what you got!”
Jonathan jumped down from the boxing ring and went to a small wooden box near the locker rooms. He fished out three pairs of leather open-palm gloves and walked back over to the ring, distributing pairs to Tyler and Thomas.
Thomas put the gloves on and flexed his fingers in and out. “Now what?”
Jonathan measured him with a steely-gray stare. “How about you ref? Me and Tyler here will start the first round.”
“Ref? But I don’t know what to do.” Thomas ducked under the red and blue ropes of the boxing ring and hopped down.
“That’s the beauty of it, there aren’t many rules. No groin hits, but everything else pretty much goes,” Jonathan said.
Thomas shook his head. “Alrighty then.”
Truth be told, his head was not in the game. He had much more pressing things to consider, so he was happy not to have to concentrate on learning something new today.
With their gloves on and mouthpieces in, the two began to circle the ring, sizing each other up. Jonathan decided to make the first move. He attempted a face punch at Tyler – and succeeded.
Tyler yelled for a quick second, then shook off the blow by swinging one back, but he missed. The problem was that Tyler wasn’t quite six feet and Jonathan towered over him at six-four. He decided he was better off going to the body, so he quickly hammered a punch to Jonathan’s gut.
Jonathan took the blow and slid his foot in an arc, taking Tyler’s out from under him. Tyler landed on his side and Jonathan jumped on top, grabbing his right arm. Jonathan had a hand on the wrist and another underhandedly on Tyler’s upper arm, straightening it into an arm-bar. He hyperextended the doctor’s arm until Tyler hollered.
Loosening up a little, but not enough to let Tyler get loose, he looked at Thomas and said, “This is where Tyler, if he so chooses, will have to ‘tap out’ by smacking the floor three times, signaling he’s giving up. If he doesn’t, I can continue like this until I break his arm.”