Starving Faithful

by Amy Lynn

  When I turned to face him, I knew he wasn’t asking about my day. I shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

  He nodded obviously uncomfortable and maybe a little regretful

  he even asked.

  “Look, Ava. You and I have formed a great friendship since we began working together. While I hate Brad more than you know for reasons I don’t care to explain at this time, I’m here for you.” He ran his hands through his hair. “If you need me, you know where to find me,” he added and quickly changed the subject. “Hey, are you going to Caroline’s Halloween party tomorrow night?” He rolled his eyes and said in his best girly teen voice, “Supposed to be super fun.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll be there. You?”

  “Hell no. You don’t disguise this,” he said and circled his face with a quick motion of his hand. “Ever.”

  “Conceited much?”

  Abe chuckled. “Aren’t I always?”

  “Are you headed out?” I ask, thumbing in the direction of the elevator.

  “No, I’ve got some things to catch up on.”

  I get halfway to the elevator before Abe calls out to me. “So, I’m curious,” he said. “What’s your costume for tomorrow night?”

  “Why?”

  “Because knowing what you’re wearing may be the type of thing that persuades me to go.”

  “Well it’s not sexy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m going as Belle. You know? From Beauty and the Beast?”

  “Ah. I forgot that it’s supposed to be a Disney themed Halloween party. For the little girl who has cancer, right?”

  I nod a yes. “Brad’s supposed to go as the Beast, but now…” I trail off hating Abe knows that much. “Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

  I mentally kicked myself as I beat a hasty retreat to the elevator.

  Shit. You talk too much Ava.

  Chapter 14

  Abram

  Looking around the bar filled with beautiful women, I’m quite certain I made the right decision about not going to Caroline’s Halloween party. Besides, costumes have never been my scene - except when they’re on women. I hate I’m such a dick I couldn’t bring myself to support the cause for a little girl. I’ll do my part and make a sizeable donation to the little angel, and I won’t have to look like one of the Three Musketeers to do it. Although the thought of carrying a rather large sword sounds fucking bad ass.

  I see two girls, both very attractive, at opposite ends of the large, crowded bar. One, a blonde who keeps biting her lip like she’s about to chew it right off (good God, I hope she doesn’t bite everything). The other, a brunette who seems shy, but has made great eye contact with me for the last thirty minutes. Both are beautiful, but I dismiss the brunette immediately. She looks too much like…focus, Kent. Well, I guess that just leaves Chewy.

  As I begin to make my way over to her, I notice a familiar face sitting at the bar.

  Brad Lauren.

  What the fuck was he doing here? He should be standing next to his gorgeous wife in a ridiculous Beast costume, counting his lucky stars that she loves him no matter how big a self-centered loser he is.

  Taking a quick look at my watch, I see Caroline’s party started over an hour ago. Fuck.

  With my strides longer than normal, I walk right past that fucking loser, past the two lady conquests, and head straight for the exit.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m parked in front of a little shop, the neon open sign still lit and flashing in the window.

  “Dude seriously? Is this all you have?” I asked eyeing the young attendant. He had better not be playing me.

  “Yeah. Sorry man.”

  I shake my head, “For fucks sake.”

  “So, do you want it or not, Bro?”

  “I’ll take it.”

  I drive like a wild man, my knuckles white on the steering wheel, pissed at that bastard Brad Lauren for not only being a complete fucking dill hole, but for putting me in this ridiculous situation in the first place.

  I enter the Jennings estate, park the car, take off my suit jacket, my tie, and unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt. Grabbing the costume from the back seat, which smells like a mixture of ass and whiskey, I step into it, zip it up, and grab the ‘head’ from the back seat.

  Jesus, I thought the costume reeked, but the mask, well, it smells like a fucking dead animal. That actually might be appropriate giving my choice of costume.

  Caroline and Paul, who are dressed as a human version of Donald and Daisy Duck, are still greeting guests near the entrance to the backyard. I scan the outdoor area in hopes of seeing Ava, but the place is filled with guests. The large white spider webs draping from the trees and dim lighting make it difficult to see much of anything.

  Caroline being the perfect host instantly greets me. “Well, who may I ask is behind this mask?”

  “I’m pleading the fucking fifth.”

  Caroline’s eyes widened, my voice a dead giveaway. “Abe?”

  “Fuck no. Guess again.”

  Caroline’s smile grew big because she knew better. “Well, thank you for coming whoever you may be,” she said and winked. “Enjoy the festivities.”

  I bent at the waist to speak into Caroline’s ear. “I just added another zero to that little girl’s check because of your discreteness. You’re a fucking saint.”

  Caroline looks at me and laughs. Nodding her head she says with a whisper, “Thank you so much, Abe. Go have some fun.”

  Pushing through the cobwebs, the crowd grows even larger as Monster Mash beats through speakers that are outfitted to look like old weathered tombstones. Scanning the room, I look for anything yellow. This Belle chick did have a yellow dress, didn’t she? How hard could that be?

  Turns out. Very.

  Exasperated, I sit down on a bench, stewing in my own filth, along with the scents of many others that wore this costume before me, hoping that Ava at some point would simply come to me.

  Suddenly, there she is, looking picturesque in front of a rose arbor that has blooming red roses trailing and budding everywhere. Her dress is yellow, fitted at the top and big ball gown below. Her hair is half up and trailing down her back in big waves, and I could see the color of her pink lips even at this distance. The sight of her made me absolutely speechless. She looked every bit like Belle from the fairytale. She is absolutely gorgeous and yet smiles so modestly as she scans the crowd, completely oblivious to everyone’s eyes shifting to her. God. She’s the forbidden fruit in a room full of apples, and I’m starving.

  I make my way to her as quickly as humanly possible through clusters of guests. When her eyes land on the hairy sight approaching, her eyes light and her expression softens, her sweet lips pulling into a sparkling smile. Christ, if she looks at Brad the way she’s looking at me right now, fucking hell, he’s even a bigger loser than I thought.

  Realization quickly dawns on her that while she is indeed looking at a hairy beast, it’s not her Beast. Her expression falls, making my stomach lurch and I instantly regret my decision to come.

  Just then, the music abruptly stops with a needle scratching crossing vinyl, and I Put A Spell On You instantly cues.

  Approaching Ava, I lean in and pluck a rose from the vine behind her, take a slow bow to one knee, then stand offering her the rose. “May I have this dance, my beautiful Belle?”

  Her eyes crinkle at the corners, a crease forms between her eyes, and her head tilts to one side while she tries to place my muffled voice. Then suddenly her chest heaves, and her eyes begin to water.

  “Abe?”

  I want to deny it just like I had done with Caroline, say it isn’t me and save myself a lifetime of razzing and embarrassment, but the appreciative gaze on Ava’s face and her green eyes swimming in unshed tears simply wouldn’t allow it.

  “Not tonight,” I say. “Tonight, I’m your Beast. Well, technically I’m fucking Chewbacca,
but it was such short notice that—”

  Suddenly Ava launches herself into my arms cutting off my words, her grip tight around my neck.

  “Thank you, Abe.” She pulls away to look into my eyes through the hideous mask. “How about that dance now Chewbacca?”

  “You got it, my lady. But drop the Chewbacca. I find Sexy Beast much more appropriate.” I hold out the rose, and she immediately takes it, placing it to her nose, and inhaling its sweet perfume.

  “Besides, no one wears this costume quite like me.”

  She smiles and lets out laughter that comes across all too sexy. The kind that warms your whole body as it appeared to do to her and me.

  I offer her a hairy arm, which she slips her delicate hand into, and we make our way to the dance floor. While I’m not much of a dancer, I can ballroom dance like nobody’s business. Why? Because the ladies fucking love it.

  I spin Ava around that dance floor, her eyes wide and lips parted in delight as I continue to surprise her with my moves. We didn’t speak, and there was no need to. Honestly, the way she looks right now, I wouldn’t be able to form a coherent thought anyway. She’s happy, actually, I’d go as far and say blissful, and I hadn’t seen her face lit in such a way for weeks.

  I knew there was something Ava wasn’t telling me, and while I didn’t like it, I accepted it.

  After all, I have my secrets from Ava too.

  Chapter 15

  Ava

  Abe looks ridiculous, his costume smells terrible, and the only real part of him I can actually see are his beautiful blue eyes behind the hideous mask. I’ve caught him looking at my boobs nearly a dozen times, but he’s here. He’s here for me, and he’s spinning me around this dance floor like I’ve never been spun before. For that, I am grateful.

  Does Abe suspect how bad my marriage to Brad has gotten? Does he know I’m not telling him everything? I would hate to think how Abe would react to learn the truth about my swollen cheek and puffy eyes when he questioned me in the elevator, but it’s best if he doesn’t know. It’s best if no one knows.

  “For fucks sake, it’s hotter than Satan’s balls in this fucking getup,” Abe said breaking my thoughts. “I’ve gotta get this mask off for a bit.”

  He leads me by the hand through the crowd and down a pathway that opens to a private courtyard just beyond the Jennings’ kitchen. Caroline wouldn’t mind that we are here and even if she did, Abe didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  Abe pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit, and I bit my lip to keep the giggle from escaping that Chewbacca, despite his hairy appearance, had great manners. I perched at the edge of the chair thanks to my layers of petticoat, and Abe pulled off the large mask of fur and sank into the opposite chair.

  He closed his eyes and took in a healthy breath full of air and exhaled. “Christ, that feels good.”

  His hair is damp with sweat, and his skin a rosy pink glistened even in the dim of night. When his eyes finally opened, they go straight to my boobs. Again.

  “Did you just look at my boobs, Abram Kent?”

  He raises one eyebrow and smiles that crooked smile of his. “Hey, you brought ‘em.”

  My held giggle bursts out, and I nervously tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. Abe matched my laugh with a deep rumble of his own.

  “Abe, I just want to—”

  “Stop.” He cuts me off before I have a chance to thank him. “I’m glad to do it.”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Where is he?”

  He met my eyes knowing full well who I was speaking of. “At the Aviary.”

  “Was he drinking?”

  “Yes.”

  I nod and smooth my dress down giving my hands something to do.

  “Ava, I don’t know shit about relationships, but I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener. I’m here if you ever need an ear.”

  I smile a fake smile. “Thank you Abe.”

  He nods and pushes away from the table, his chair scratching noisily across the stone. “Well, princess, I gotta jet before word gets out I actually have a heart.”

  He stops beside my chair and tips my chin up to meet his eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine, Abe.”

  “Mitchell driving you home?”

  I nod and look at my hands because I’m frustrated and embarrassed. “Yes.”

  Abe leans down and places a kiss to the top of my head. “Goodnight, Ava.”

  I look back up at him and grasp his hairy suited forearm, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Goodnight, Abe.”

  I can hear his muffled beast footsteps across the stone as he makes his way back through the party, and I look over my shoulder just in time to see him slip the mask over his face.

  Sitting in the dim silence, I wonder what could have possessed Brad to stand me up tonight. He didn’t come home the night before, and he’s been distant for so long. Clearly, he was pissed about something. But what?

  If I’ve done something to upset him, why wouldn’t he just talk to me about it?

  Suddenly, I just want to go home. I don’t feel like putting a fake smile on my face and making up excuses for where Brad is tonight. I don’t feel like watching wives with their supportive husbands as they mingle among the crowd. I don’t feel much of anything right now except numbness. I just wanted to go home where I could be miserable in peace and quiet.

  After giving Caroline and Paul a quick goodbye, Mitchell takes me home.

  To my surprise, the house is lit up in almost every room, and Brad’s car is parked in the garage with the garage door still open. I was instantly pissed. How long has he been home? Why not come to the party where his wife was waiting?

  I thank Mitchell for the ride and exit the car as quickly as I can despite my big yellow dress and layers of petticoat. I walk through the garage, past his car, glancing through the window to see a stack of files, his briefcase and car keys thrown on the passenger seat.

  Brad is standing in the kitchen, still dressed in his suit, and he looks like hell.

  It takes him a moment to see me. “Ava!” he shouts when he spots me. “Where the hell have you been?”

  I wanted to ask him the same question, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I didn’t need to smell the alcohol on is breath to know he was drunk.

  “Me?” he points his finger into his own chest. “For what?”

  “The Halloween party. Remember? How could you do that to me?”

  “Why are you yelling?”

  “Because I’m pissed! You stood me up tonight! The least you could have done was call!”

  “Why should I have called, Ava? So you can yell at me like you’re doing right now?” Shaking his head, he continues, “Fuck that. I’ve got enough shit to deal with.”

  “Like what?”

  He gives me a deadly look that makes my blood run cold. “Don’t worry about it, Ava.”

  “How can I not worry about it when it’s clearly taken a severe emotional toll on you?”

  Brad stalks towards me, and I back up a few steps not liking the look I saw in his eyes.

  “Leave it alone, Ava,” he warns, the smell of liquor on his breath quickly filling the space between us.

  As badly as I wanted to yell and tell him how much he hurt me, and continues to hurt me every day by not talking to me about what’s bothering him, I bite my tongue and remain silent.

  Stepping past him, I can’t help but reply in anger. “Fine. I’m going to bed.” Brad makes a clumsy attempt to grab my hand, but I easily pulled out of his grip. “I’m also making arrangements to visit my parents for a little while,” I say, not bothering to face him. “I think we could use some time apart.”

  Suddenly, I’m grabbed by the upper arm and spun around. “What? Why?”

  When I didn’t respond, he tightened his grip, gave me a shake, and yells, “Tell me why you want time away from me?”

  I want to answer, but my voice is locked up tight. His eyes desperately sea
rch mine looking for any hint of reason, and all at once, Brad’s eyes change. Dark with hate and a veil cloaking his face make him nearly unrecognizable.

  Brad pushes me hard, knocking my clutch from my hand. “Answer me!” he shouts, pushing me again and quickly follows with another shove before I have a chance to recover. Stumbling backwards, my arms stretched in attempt to steady myself and I step on a long layer of petticoat and hear it tear. Brad’s eyes are glassy and distant as I back up, him matching my every step, until I feel the door leading to the garage against my backside.