Twisted Proposal

by M. V. Miles

  “This is useless, Jackson. Forget about her.” Lexus took Jackson's arm, but he jerked away.

  “Okay,” I muttered and walked over to him, removed the cue in his hand, and placed it where it belonged. Did I miss something?

  “She’s right, you know. You don’t know how things work around here,” Jackson stated.

  “Obviously not. So what now? You’re going to throw a fit because you lost?” I crossed my arms. The warm alcohol churned in my stomach.

  He strode past me and plucked one of the shorter cues from the wall and snapped it in half over his knee. Wood chips flew everywhere and scattered to the floor, like splatters of paint. Then he grabbed the cue ball and launched it into a glass vase, shattering it into a million pieces. What was this dude’s problem?

  Lexus just stood there next to her brother with a look of bewilderment on her face. I guess fear had them frozen to their places. I wasn’t afraid. I was used to drama. Elizabeth used to throw dishes or whatever she got her hands on when she was upset.

  He picked up another cue, but I snatched it from him and replaced it before it wound up in splinters on the floor.

  “Can I speak to you alone?” I didn’t give him an option. Gripping his wrist, I dragged him into the study and shut the doors. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough,” he said.

  “Okay, so you’re at least eighteen?”

  “Nineteen,” His eyes were blank, his tone cold.

  I’d never seen anyone lose it over a pool game. “Wow, that’s shocking. I can’t believe you flipped out over a stupid game. Is it that big of a deal to you if we go on a date?” I paused.

  His face burned a light shade of pink, and he remained silent. I edged closer to him.

  “Jackson, I don’t date, never have, and I don’t intend on starting. Nor am I interested in boys like you.”

  “Boys like me? You don’t even know me.” The haughtiness in his voice made me roll my eyes.

  “But I do. You’re immature and rude when you don’t get your way. Boys who think the world revolves around them. The rules don’t apply to them, sound familiar?”

  “Who said I’m even interested in you?” he snarled, leaning toward me.

  I kissed him, which caught him completely off guard. It didn’t bother me that he didn’t respond. His lips were soft and nice. “You don’t have to.” I pointed to the bulge in his pants, and he spun around. “Clean up your mess, Jackson.”

  Opening the doors, I ignored Zach's and Lexus‘s shocked expressions as I headed upstairs. I needed another drink after dealing with him. I had to be crazy to assume he would be compliant. Instead of going to my room, I went into the kitchen. Maybe Jackson was bi-polar or something; he certainly had the mood swings. That’s what they thought was wrong with Elizabeth before they realized she was a paranoid schizophrenic.

  I spotted a bottle of wine on the counter and an empty glass. I filled it half way and downed it in seconds. Someone cleared his throat behind me. I lowered the glass and turned around. The Van Buren’s, Petra, and Stuart were all staring at me.

  “Uh…” Stuart took the glass from my hand. “You’re sixteen, not twenty-one, which means, no drinking.”

  “I didn’t know you were the kind of dad who followed the rules.” I meandered to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of water.

  “Addison, where’s my son?” Mr. Van Buren asked. A vacuum cleaner hummed downstairs, and no one said a word until it shut off. I smiled. Petra seemed to lose all the color in her face, and Mrs. Van Buren had a deer-in-the-headlights look in her gray eyes. Only Mr. Van Buren remained calm.

  “He’s cleaning up a mess he made.” I slouched against the sink. “I’m sure he’ll be up any minute.”

  Jackson stormed into the room, then stopped when he realized we weren’t alone.

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Van Buren directed at him.

  “Nothing, Father. I was just clearing up a minor misunderstanding. Can you have two pool cues and a Japanese vase sent over? One that matches the vase in the game room?”

  “You never clean anything,” Mrs. Van Buren said in a hollow voice.

  “Whatever.” He dismissed her. “So what now?”

  “Whatever,” I taunted, walking into the other room. Did he actually think I wanted to hang out with him?

  He caught up to me. “Do something like that again, and you’ll regret it.”

  His bullying infuriated me. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” I swung my hand back and punched him in the groin. He gasped and dropped to his knees. I walked past him without another glance. Clearly, Stuart had ulterior motives for bringing me to his house. I needed to find out what he had planned and what it had to do with the Van Buren’s.

  In the informal living room, Lexus was sprawled out on one of the leather loveseats with Zach on the other, both of them watching a movie on the big screen TV. I slid close to Zach on his couch. Moments later, Jackson plopped down next to me. Sighing, I rose and moved to the other end of the couch, but Jackson moved over as well. After the third time of changing seats, I gave up. Apparently, Jackson was determined to crowd me. I tried to focus on the movie, which was about some girl falling in love with her college professor, but I soon became bored.

  Excusing myself, I ducked out into the hall. Running away was not an option, but being alone was. Jackson would probably come looking for me soon, so I kept moving, rushing through the dining room, past the adults, into a room I had never seen before. Once inside, I closed the door and collapsed against the wall, covering my face with my hands. Why did Elizabeth have to die? I needed her.

  I couldn’t believe that I actually missed her or my old life. All I had ever done was wish I had more and now when I had it, I didn't want it. None of it. These rich people were unhappy and cruel to each other and to me. With the tears still streaming down my face, I fumbled blindly toward a bench.

  Eventually, I calmed down enough to take in my surroundings. Potted plants lined the glass walls of the room, and the earthy smell was soothing. I must have been in some kind of atrium.

  Closing my eyes, I imagined walking through the park at home on my way to school or work. Of course, most of those plants would be dead by now, the winter cold stripping them bare. A door opened and shut, bringing me back to the present.

  I wiped my eyes with the palms of my hands and straightened, squaring my shoulders, ready to face Jackson's father.

  “Are you okay?” asked Mr. Van Buren from the doorway. He didn’t want to be there. That was obvious by the way he frowned at me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Honestly, my wife told me to come and check on you. She claims I’m good at talking to teenagers or something.”

  “Isn’t this Stuart’s job?” I massaged my temples. He’d stepped further into the room not responding, so I turned to the setting sun, which had created beautiful streaks of purple and red across the dimming sky. It was so clear, as if I were sitting on the roof at home. “I’m sure you have more important things to worry about. Why don’t you just return to your entertainment and leave me alone?” I said.

  Instead of leaving, he sat right next to me. A comfortable silence fell over the room as we continued to watch the sunset.

  “Pretty amazing,” he said softly, after a few minutes.

  I moved and caught a whiff of his designer musk, and all I could do was stare at his sculpted profile. Everything seemed frozen in time until he spoke.

  “Is everything alright?” he whispered.

  I forced myself to look away. I had to get it together. He was older than Stuart. Change the subject. “What’s Stuart planning to do with me? I mean all that talk at dinner.” He brushed against me as he moved, causing butterflies in my stomach. I stared up into his eyes and lost myself again.

  “I understand you were really close with your aunt.”

  “You could say that,” I replied, annoyed. He wasn’t answering my question.

&nbs
p; He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There are a lot of things that are going to change that you may not be used to.”

  “Like what?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about now.” His hand slid over mine, causing me to catch my breath. Was he flirting with me?

  I pulled my hand away and stood. “Don’t try to save me from the truth, Mr. Van Buren. I will find out what you’re hiding.” I had to get out of there, before something awkward happened...

  “Don’t go snooping around where you don’t belong.” His voice was as cold as his son's had been earlier, and his eyes glittered like a snake.

  I was sick and tired of people telling me that, but knew I couldn’t show this man any fear. I shortened the distance between us in one step, forcing him to sit back. “Like I told your son, don’t make promises you can’t keep. Rest assured, I will find out what you’re hiding. And I promise you that if I find out I’m a part of some sick game between you and Stuart, Wilson winning his next case will be the least of your worries.” Dismissing him, I swept from the atrium and returned to the living room.

  “You’re back,” Jackson commented as I sat next to him.

  “Unfortunately.” Avoiding Zach’s questioning look, I focused on the movie. “Let’s just watch the show, okay?” But as the minutes passed, my eyes became heavy. Yawning, I rested my head on the arm of the couch. Soon, I was fast asleep.

  ***

  I woke to find Jackson staring down at me. His face was uncomfortably close. “What do you want?” I asked.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Addison.” He kissed me softly, and for a second I forgot where I was. Sitting up, I pushed him away reminding myself I didn’t like him.

  “Don’t do that again,” I said, punching him in the shoulder. He laughed. I thought about saying something else, but Stuart, Petra, and the Van Burens walked in. I adjusted my dress and Jackson rose from the couch.

  “Everything all right?” Stuart asked.

  “We’re leaving. Are you staying?” Mr. Van Buren asked Jackson.

  “He’s leaving,” I said as I stood and faced them. “Isn’t that right?” I turned toward Jackson, who looked confused.

  “Yeah, of course.” He excused himself, which left all eyes on me.

  “Maybe you should go check on him,” Stuart suggested. He pulled Petra close to him. Was he serious? He jerked his head toward the door when I didn’t move.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” I said, but they were still staring at me. “Seriously, he's fine.” I shrugged. “Okay. Whatever.” This was ridiculous.

  Jackson was in the driveway leaning against a black Porsche. He tapped the ash from his cigarette and frowned with a sour expression on his frat boy face.

  “May I have one?” I asked, amused by his startled twitch. Instead of answering, he took another deep drag, blowing the smoke out slowly through his nose. I swung around to face him and swiped his cigarette.

  “You can’t just force your way into my life and expect me to like you.” I took a puff. Peppermint and strong.

  “I don’t expect anything.” His eyes avoided mine.

  I laughed. He was the worst liar. “Right and I have butterfly wings. Truce, okay?” I handed the cigarette back to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. He held me close for a few seconds.

  “Smile,” Morgan said from behind us. As we turned, a camera flash popped. I blinked a few times. I started to move, but Jackson wouldn’t let me.

  “Relax. She wants to get a few pictures of the dress.” He said.

  “Okay.” I leaned against him. She snapped a few more, then suggested I pose alone.

  I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d never posed for photos like these before. After a few more minutes of my turning and mugging and Morgan snapping the camera, Mr. Van Buren hurried her into a waiting limo.

  Jackson touched my hair and planted a soft kiss on my forehead. “Get some sleep, Beautiful, and lay off the liquor. It makes you look cheap,” he said and eased into the driver's side of the Porsche.

  Part of me wanted to pick up a rock and throw it at his back window, but I stopped myself. Screw him. I returned to the house where Stuart was waiting for me in the foyer.

  “What? I apologized. What more do you want?”

  “I know it’s your first time attending anything remotely important, so I don’t expect you to fit in right away.” I noticed he held a cocktail. He drained it and set the empty glass on the table with vase of lilies.

  “Isn’t it too early to be drinking, Dad?” I marched into the dining room. I wasn’t going to listen to his crap.

  “Mr. Van Buren is my boss, and his impression of my family is very important to me.” He followed me, his voice rising as he walked.

  “And this has what to do with me? Can’t this wait ‘til morning?” I threw over my shoulder.

  “No it can’t. Petra’s worried that what happened between Jackson and you might affect the rest of us.”

  I paused in front of the coffee pot long enough to pour a cup, then scurried into the plant room. “I highly doubt Mr. Van Buren’s concerned with his son’s business, let alone anyone else in this family.” I settled into one of the comfortable wicker chairs and sipped my coffee.

  “That very well may be, but Jackson is a guest and –“

  “And I treated him like one. I’m not going to do something that I don’t feel comfortable with, just to make his life any easier." I hesitated. "Or yours.”

  “No one’s asking you to do anything you don’t want to do. Just be polite,”

  “Polite? Is that what you call it? Why am I here, Stuart? What was that garbage before dinner? I know you two were talking about me.” It pleased me to see him flush. Clearly I had touched upon a sensitive point.

  He began picking off the dead heads of a nearby plant. “Nothing. It’s a minor misunderstanding.” He started toward the kitchen. “Good night, Addison. Tomorrow we’ll discuss your drinking.”

  “I’m not finished talking.”

  “I am.” He shut the door behind him. It was obvious he was lying about the Van Buren’s, but why?

  Chapter Fifteen

  I came to in a hospital bed. “Mom?” I raised my arm but something pulled it back. An IV.

  “Addison.” Sandy was sitting next to my bed.

  “Mom, I have to get to Mom!” I tried to get out of bed but couldn’t figure out how to sit upright. Everything felt so heavy. Sandy’s face held a mixture of emotions: anger, sadness, and utter disbelief. We were alone. I blinked a few times. Where was my Mom?

  "They gave you a strong sedative,” Sandy said, and I struggled to gather my thoughts. Was she really gone? A nurse entered the room and handed me a glass of water.

  "Where did you get the black eye, honey?" the nurse asked. "Do you remember?"

  I looked at her, took another sip of my water. “Where’s Mom?” I asked Sandy again.

  “I’m sorry, but she’s gone, dear.”

  “No, no, that’s not true. You're lying.” I sounded drunk.

  “I’m afraid not. She’s really gone, Addison.”

  I started crying. “What happens now?”

  “Let’s not worry about that now. I’m so sorry, Addison.” It sounded liked Sandy was a million miles away. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

  “Addison?” someone said, and I opened my eyes to see a different nurse staring at me. Turning away from her, I faced the wall.

  She leaned in close and whispered, “I wanted to let you know that the hospital does have a pastor…if you…wanted to talk to one.”

  “No--” I sat up. Everything tilted, forcing me to lie back down. The sedative, I remembered.

  The nurse smiled. “It’ll wear off. I’ll be back to check on you later.” She left.

  Gripping the side rails, I pulled myself to a sitting position. Where was Sandy? A plastic bag with the hospital's name on it lay by my feet. Inside were Eve’s clothes, a pair a grey sweats, a
blue spaghetti strap shirt, and her jeans jacket. “Mom,” I cried. After removing the jeans jacket, I wrapped it around my shoulders. It still smelled like her. I clutched it, hoping Mom would magically return.

  It was dark outside, and rain pounded against the window. Maybe they were wrong; perhaps Eve was still in her room. I no longer felt dizzy when I sat up, so I peeled the medical tape from my arm and ripped out the IV needle, wincing from the pain. Then I covered my wound with the tape and slipped on my shoes. I had to find her! I crept down an empty hall where I made it to the stairs unseen. I ran up to the fifth floor. The hall was deserted; Mom was in room 519. I didn’t care if she was dead or not. I needed to see her.

  I walked into an empty room. The bed had been stripped, and there was an old man cleaning the mattress with disinfectant spray. Everything was gone, empty, taken, leaving behind a strong smell of bleach.

  “May I help you?” he asked. I shook my head and quickly left the room. It was stupid to believe she would actually still be there. She was probably in the morgue! Could I go down there? What if…what if she was in pieces or something?

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to go downstairs. Cold air blew from the vent in the hall, and I pulled her jacket tight around me.

  “Addison.” A whisper came from behind me.

  “Mom?” Afraid to turn around, I held my ground.

  “Addison, turn around,” the voice beckoned.

  “No.” Crying, I knelt to the ground, my breath coming out in white puffs. What was going on? I had to look. I forced myself to look over my shoulder, and Mom was hovering above the ground in her hospital gown. Blood was splattered all over. I screamed.

  ***

  I shot up in bed gasping for air. Mom! I fumbled with lamp by my bed and clicked it on, illuminating my room. I was still alive and in bed. I wiped my face with my hand and trembled. No, not Mom, but Elizabeth. I didn’t know my mother.

  I had to get a grip on these dreams or memories, whatever they were. Maybe Elizabeth was trying to communicate with me. No that was stupid. They were just nightmares.

  Lying back down, I pulled the covers around me and shut my eyes. The memory of Elizabeth leaning over me clouded my mind, so I got up. There was no point in sleeping anymore. Turning on the television, I noticed a bag sitting on my desk. What was that doing here? I glanced around the room again. Nothing else seemed to be out of place. I walked over to the bag, and it was empty. There was a note on the desk. I turned on the desk lamp.