by J D Worth
I catch sight of my father at a table with several of his department heads, tending to important last minute details. The business world never stops, even on a Saturday evening and at his own wedding reception. He has to cover for his honeymoon and the time he’ll be away from his empire. I let out another long sigh. He’s in his forties, and this is the first time he’s stepping away for personal time. I can only imagine how much more he’ll expect of me. I have to prove myself as a capable businesswoman in his world, one who conquers in the name of Aster.
A warm breath tickles my ear. I glance up. My eyes widen, taking in his large frame once again, realizing he should intimidate the hell out of me. My posture remains relaxed in his presence, which is a rare occurrence. His nonchalant demeanor contradicts our formal surroundings; it’s as though I’m attending his party at his resort instead.
I drop my eyes to his large hands. His touch was gentle. A glimpse reveals uneven nails, calluses, and multiple scars from real life experiences. Hands like his are dangerous for someone like me. For someone that wants to know how his amusing adventures left those hard-earned marks upon his tanned skin. His fascinated eyes watch as I touch a raised rough patch on his index finger.
His magnetic pull leaves me wanting to share with him again, to connect somehow, or I’ll regret this moment for the rest of my life. “I recall my own calluses I earned working for the rehab program—”
“Rehab? Good Lord!” Trent rips the glass from my hand, saying, “Your grandmomma will toss me in the ocean after she learns I served you. She already reamed me a new one for my ink.”
I snatch the glass back, retorting, “I came to the South to rehabilitate houses after Hurricane Oswald hit the coast line. The same massive category five that wiped out a good portion of the eastern seaboard a few years back. Haven was not immune to the devastation. The resort sits far enough back that it received minimal damage at best.” His shoulders stoop low as Green Eyes stifles a laugh at his friend. I sip more of my drink, eyeing Trent. “I wore my calluses with pride. Georgina had a fit once she saw my hands. She took me to have a manicure to wash away all that unpleasantness of dirtying my hands in the first place. To her, it is more important to look good than to do actual good for others. The pink cherries, pink teacup roses, pink lip-gloss, and pink frosted nail polish exemplifies how she doesn’t have a clue. She thinks the symbolic pink ribbon used to represent breast cancer is something you accessorize.”
Green Eyes asks, “You’ve been to the South, but why not here before?”
“I tried to reenroll in the program during my summer break. Lilith derailed my plans by enrolling me in that J. P. Morgan internship. I busted out twelve-to-eighteen hour days all summer. I continued the work as an Independent Study for math once I returned to school in the fall. I wasn’t yet a sophomore in high school and had to learn the parameters of how the money market runs. She immersed me in a world of complex equations, calculated risk factors, market trends, and statistical data. She’s not one for letting my mind wander beyond Wall Street. This is painful enough being here when my mother is not.”
“That’s your real answer.”
“You think you know me, but you don’t. After my success, Lilith agreed I could return to the building program only for my school breaks. She called my calluses ‘life experience.’ I was too exhausted playing analyst to cause trouble. I followed her impossible demands, not letting her know how much I enjoyed the building experiences. She would’ve found far worse for me if she knew how much I loved wielding a hammer. Someday I’ll wield a sledgehammer, and I’ll break every damn glass ceiling on Wall Street.” I grin at myself.
Green Eyes parks his mouth by my ear, saying in a low, husky voice, “You know what I think?” I nail my fascinated eyes back to his hands. I can’t recall the last time I saw a man without a manicure. That’s the problem with Manhattan: you forget there is an entire world that doesn’t revolve in a fine crystal bubble. How refreshing to see a reminder of this fact.
His warm fingers brush along mine. My attention draws upward as a long lost secret awakens within me, almost like a whisper I can’t yet hear. One locked deep inside. I search his eyes for the missing key. “What?”
“You don’t belong here,” he says with raw honesty. My body wobbles.
“Then where do I belong?”
“With me,” he says, catching me off-guard again. My heart patters when he leans closer, pouring another round. His eyes meet mine with no show of cockiness or sense of ego, let alone flirting.
It’s all or nothing with him, stealing the entire bottle of whiskey instead of scoring a free drink off his friend. Dress codes don’t apply. He writes his own rules and makes sure to stop and taste whatever life throws across his path. Right now, he’s asking for more time with me and nothing else.
“Nope, you’re the one crashing this wedding for the sheer fun of it. You’re acting like Goldilocks, tasting the many rich pots of porridge. Afraid of waking up the bears, you’re escaping like a crazy lunatic with my bottle of Jack. I still have several more hours of this ridiculous farce, which includes the wedding photos and the cake-cutting ceremony. Those carefully staged Aster press photos are the most important factor of the evening.” I let out another heavy sigh, hoping I don’t sound like a whiny, spoiled, rich brat.
He tugs at his sandy brown hair. “Nah, I can’t pull off blond. We’ve established only one of the porridge bowls was just right. Wanna help me test the chairs till we find just the right fit? You’re still awfully jaded, so we’d have a blast breaking them. We could start a bonfire so you can burn off your rage. That is, unless you wanna rant again ’bout your evil stepmomma.”
“Those rants are justified after she planted that naughty unicorn in my room. Seriously, who has a princess theme wedding when they’re thirty? Georgina had this wedding planned out when she was five and borrowed from the last British royal wedding as her ultimate guide. Then to top it off, she shoves those ‘Blushing Bride’ drinks down our throats and begged my father for that real princess crown.”
“You done?” Green Eyes chuckles. Sharing my unpleasant rant louder than I meant, my shoulders sink. “What do you say?” Green Eyes aims his head towards the hall door. “You, me, and Jack,” Green Eyes asks again without any pretext. His low, deep voice resonates through my body. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, and I’m unsure what to think of him at this point. “There’s a Strawberry Moon tonight. Wouldn’t want you to miss the sparkling celestial event, being away from the bright city lights and all. Might actually relax you a bit.” He laughs.
“Strawberry Moon?”
“The Moon is approaching perigee, the orbit closest to the Earth. The full Moon looks thirty percent larger in the sky.”
I smirk. “You’re into astrophysics? By nature, that’s an abstract field of study. Is that something you can sink your teeth into?”
His eyes twinkle. “You tell me. You’re the one who keeps crashing into my orbit.”
“Me? Oh, I think it’s the other way around.”
“Baby,” Chaz slurs from across the way. I cinch my eyes and down the contents of my champagne glass. Green Eyes is quick to refill my drink. My breath leaves me as his penetrating stare searches for a crack to lay down roots.
“This is your Prince Charming?” His shoulder juts towards Chaz who marks me as a target, ready to claim me again.
“You mean Pretty Boy?” A sneering laugh escapes me. “He’s not mine and not charming in the least bit. Thank you for the breather. This has been the most honest interaction I’ve had in … well, forever. I did have fun, even if you’re crashing the wedding and actually encouraging me to rant so I can let off a little steam.”
“Only for you…” he whispers.
Squeezing his hand one last time, I move away from the bar. A sense of loss overtakes me. I’m proud of managing one normal encounter tonight amongst the affectations hanging in the air at my father’s maddening wed
ding.
I pass Chaz before he can put his greedy hands on me or start something with Green Eyes. I wouldn’t put that past him. Chaz follows, trying to herd me out to the dance floor, but I’m able to disappear into the crowd, putting the length of the room between us. Slipping out to the service hallway, I hope Chaz gets the hint. Green Eyes slides out by the bar door and down the hall like a sly, mischievous fox. There goes my bottle of Jack, and the last I’ll see of the alluring thief after catching him in the act.
6
I run through the kitchen, exiting by the backdoor. My shoes stick in the sand. I kick them off when they slow me down. If Lilith overhears me railing against Georgia or catches my frosty demeanor towards Chaz, I’ll wind up in New York tonight. A cooling off period on the beach is perfect. I’ll be able to peek at my mother’s beach cottage and lose Chaz at the same time. I’ll be back for the family photos without anyone noticing my disappearance.
The warm salty sea air draws me forth. I gaze in wonder at the magical Strawberry Moon overhead. The super full moon drapes a soft velvety glow on the beach perfect for a stroll. The soothing waves creates a soft and gentle lullaby. I take the time to wiggle my toes in the cool sand, relishing my near-freedom. I move on automatic pilot towards the private cove, sheltered behind a large berm at the end of the beach.
Halfway across the expansive beach, I spy what appears to be a bonfire hidden behind the massive berm. The orange glow extends onto the sand as spikes of loud laughter spill over. The locals know nobody inhabits the cottages, which makes the area an ideal party hangout. I hang back, mulling if I should continue my trek to a party where I’m a stranger, and no one knows I’m gone from the reception.
The nearby sand shifts behind me. Is Green Eyes joining me, or am I joining him for a bonfire?
“Baby, there you are! Went looking for you and the kitchen help said you came this way,” Chaz slurs, unable and unwilling to stay away.
“I’m just getting some fresh air, so you can head back. I’ll be right there.”
“Fresh air, is that really why you came out here?” Chaz laughs, more menacing than not. “I think you wanted a little more. You’ve been teasing me all night. Playing hard to get by flirting with all those other guys and slipping out here. I get it. You’re a romantic, seeking the sandy beach and full moon as a backdrop. I can be romantic.” His words chill me like an ice storm. On the defense, I lock my knees in place.
“Chaz, I told you I have no romantic intentions for us whatsoever.” I head towards the orange glow of the bonfire, sensing the ambient light lends a shred of safety. Chaz’s looming presence terrifies me, so I pick up my pace.
Chaz snatches me back and gives me a rough kiss. I manage to push him away while yelling a loud warning, “Chaz, back off now!”
He moves toward me in a tackle, crashing into me hard. My ankle twists under me. I yelp in pain. He must have at least fifty pounds on me when we smack into the sand. He grabs my hands and slams them above my head, maintaining a painful grasp while I whimper. Grunting in disgust, I try kneeing him. The tightness of the dress and his weight leaves me with no leverage.
Even if I started screaming, the people from the loud party can’t hear us. They’re still all the way around the large berm. I begin pleading with him, aiming for rationality, “Chaz, please just get up, and we’ll go back to the resort together. We’ll dance a few more times, have a few more drinks, and call it a night. Everything will be good in the morning.”
His eyes glaze over as he responds with a lazy, drunken smile. He has me right where he wants me, reinforcing his domination by squeezing my arms. His aggression is ripe, and he’s not used to anyone saying no to his advances. I push against him, attempting to free myself. Taking advantage of my restrained position, he forcefully thrusts against my center like a mad man. I want to vomit.
My movements become frantic as I struggle for my freedom. I spring my left arm from his painful grasp and hit him with as much force as I can muster. “Get off me now!” The punch lands in between his mouth and nose. My knuckles split from the momentum. His powerful forearm slams my arm back in place. He shifts his weight, immobilizing me, gaining control of each limb.
He swipes his face with his free hand, stunned from the amount of blood my jarring blow produces. I wiggle and yell for him to stop. He shouts down at me, “You drew blood, you little bitch! You’re going to bleed for this.” He smacks me hard on the side of my head. The world jars before my eyes as my teeth rip the corner of my lip, filling my mouth with blood.
His vice-like grip is so harsh, I’m afraid he’ll break one of my arms. Chaz inflicts hard upward blows to my stomach, pushing the air from my lungs. Tiny black spots dance across my field of vision as the air escapes. Ready to pass out, the Moon becomes smaller as my eyes roll back. Chaz stops punching once my audible wheezes cease. Breathing becomes a concerted effort. Darkness sweeps in from the corners of my eyes. He rips the front of my dress, exposing my breasts.
My body pulls away from the lack of oxygen. The horrifying turn of events plays out before me, and I’m helpless to stop them. He dives into my chest while I gasp for air like a dying fish.
As though I’m stuck in time, awaiting his next onslaught, nothing happens. I lift my spinning head. A pair of bewildered green eyes stares back at me amid a sea of blackness. A livid expression crosses Green Eye’s intense face. He yanks Chaz from me. I roll away, hiding the rip of my dress. I gain my footing to stand, only to slump back in the sand, too lightheaded to move. Sickening loud smacking noises ring out from behind me. Chaz moans with each punishing blow. He tries but can’t land a single punch.
I spit out several mouthfuls of blood. “Asshole!” I make out when my hoarse voice returns. Green Eyes lifts Chaz up and smacks him hard in the face. Chaz drops like a ragdoll. My head stops spinning, and I’m able to stand without the threat of passing out. My feeble fingers grasp the torn material, holding my breasts in place. Swaying from overwhelming pain, I cradle my other hand against my inflamed stomach and bend over in agony.
I gasp when Green Eyes places his white button down shirt over my hunched shoulders. The woodsy smell of bonfire and a hint of tobacco envelop my senses. The blaring white noise dissipates from my ringing ears. My heart rails against my chest, harder than I’ve ever experienced before. Moments pass before my lightheadedness calms to a manageable seasickness level.
“Th—th—thanks.” My body shakes and my teeth chatter. I can only manage to fasten the middle button with my fumbling fingers, but at least that one closure covers my bare chest.
He takes a long pull from a cigarette while dipping his head to the side, assessing me for injuries. “Here.” Green Eyes offers me the bottle. He traded his suit pants for a pair of dark jeans. A thin white tank top shows off his broad chest, shoulders, and well-defined biceps. My eyes linger over traces of ink on his shoulder.
I grab the Jack and wince in pain, dropping the heavy bottle in the process. I shake off the stabbing sensation. He jets out his hand, offering to check my left wrist. I place my hand into his. Wrapping both of his hands around mine, he also drops an aura of protectiveness around me.
“Is your wrist throbbing?” With a tender touch, he massages my wrist area. I jerk my head no. “I don’t see immediate swelling. You’ll have to keep an eye on it.” I lift my hand, inspecting my swollen and bleeding knuckles. I’m lucky to escape with only a sprain. He places the bottle in my other hand. Hoping to dull the pain, I take a large gulp. “What’s the total damage?”
When I have my fill, I pass back the bottle. “I hurt all over, making it hard to localize specific areas.” Shaking, I fumble with the buttons.
He takes several long pulls and hands the bottle back to me. “Drink up, Princess.” He parks the cigarette between his lips and motions to my shaking hands. He buttons down to my waist, not bothering with the last few. “Told you I’d buy you a drink,” he asserts. A small hysterical laugh escapes me before I take
another long swig.
“Your dress shirt is longer than this pathetic dress.”
We stare at one another as I swallow back tears. Life-affirming breaths fill my lungs as I gather myself. If he were only a minute later, my fate would be different.
Chaz moans, sounding like a dying animal. Green Eyes turns, unfazed by each heavy kick he administers, until a quietness settles around us. His reinforced boots now make sense. Dress shoes would do nothing in this situation. His display of outward aggression should be shocking, terrifying even, yet I find the opposite to be true. I turn and spit another mouthful of blood out.
He throws his cigarette off to the side, shifting back to me. “You good, Princess, or shall I continue?” Green Eyes extends the offer with his palm out.
My eyes grow wide at the implication. “Unless you can neuter him, I’m okay with this useless state. He’s out—”
“Then do me a favor, tell me how beautiful the Moon sparkles tonight.”