by Anthology
Or so I thought.
I didn’t yet know what was missing from my life. . Until her. And then, when I realized exactly who she was, and how fate had gotten the last laugh on me, it was already far too late. She’d bewitched me utterly. And furthermore, I knew she had no idea who I was or what ties connected us.
Maybe that’s what made her so intoxicating?
I didn’t know and I didn’t care because it made absolutely no difference to me. I wanted her with a primal desire I could barely understand, yet I embraced that desire wholeheartedly because I was incapable of doing anything else with it. How could I not? She had enchanted me.
However, once my brain managed to catch up it wasn’t quite so effortless to accept this new and unfamiliar reality of feeling something for a woman beyond the unquestioning curiosity of when and if we might fuck.
I struggled against the idea of her at first for a few reasons. She was too young. My mother would never approve of us together. Others in my world would probably chew her up and spit her out, destroying her sweetness. But I soon found out my heart didn’t give a flying fuck about any of those reasons. The heart wants what it wants and I’d discovered that for my heart, “want” was all wrapped up in the package that was Brooke Ellen Casterley.
The death of my father from the evils of cancer was an eye-opener for my siblings and me. Money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t stop the Grim Reaper from calling on you if it’s your time to go. Death was called the great equalizer. And it truly was. Wealth was a trivial thing when it’s only extra fuckin’ zeros on a balance sheet that makes any difference between lives lived. Doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor when you die, because none of it counts at the end. You leave this life the same way you come into it. You go out alone and take nothing. “There has to be more to life than making money, son,” he told me at the end. He took hold of my hand and squeezed as hard as his frail strength could manage so as to make me understand the importance. He had regrets and wanted to share with me what he’d learned to prevent me from making the same mistakes. I understood him clearly.
The most essential value my father tried to teach me alongside with my brothers and sisters was the idea of family. Family took precedence over money. “Take care of the family first and the wealth will grow, Caleb,” he said.
A strong family moving forward was the only thing that truly meant anything at the end of the day.
The Blackstones had been here on the island since the days when The Mayflower made its treacherous journey to the untamed American shores. As the eldest son it was my duty to make sure the Blackstones would still be here a hundred years from now.
My plan to fulfill my duty included her. It wouldn’t work any other way for me. I knew it the first time I ever felt the heat of her eyes as they burned me from across the room.
I knew it down in my bones.
I was going to marry that lovely, beautiful girl from England and she would be mine.
ONE
~CALEB~
September
Boston
I rolled off her and knew it was the last time we would ever fuck. No use in trying to fake it and pretend there would be a next time. Janice and I were done even if she didn’t know it yet. Sex happened when I needed some, and for the rest of the time, it was work, work, and more work. I’d been busy anyway, traveling all over the world since I’d taken over the reins at Blackstone Global Enterprises eighteen months ago when my father became too ill to continue.
Janice purred up against my neck and rubbed her tits into the side of my chest. I fought the urge to push her away but stripped off the condom instead. In the beginning we both seemed to be on the same page with expectations that our connection didn’t really extend beyond the bedroom. She was a successful model in the fashion industry and traveled as much or more than I did, so I hadn’t felt her to be clingy before. If she had been then there never would have been a “thing” at all between us, because I knew all about women who cling. The line of females looking for a rich man to make all their dreams come true was as long as it was easy to spot, and I’d fielded so many attempts over the years I was an expert at avoidance.
But now I sensed Janice wanted so much more from me than I was able to give her, and I dreaded the confrontation that was coming. Some sort of commitment to the future was never going to happen, and it annoyed me she still pushed. I thought I’d been clear when we started out.
She’d come to my father’s funeral six months ago with her family, and in my grief I’d turned to her offer of comfort, even though I’d said I probably couldn’t give her more than an infrequent night at a time. After a few weeks of regular sex I’d suggested we be exclusive, which was completely new territory for me. Not having to play the field in order to get laid was convenient, and we came from the same world, having grown up privileged in the Boston area, attending the same private schools, vacationing at our beachfront homes on the island. Being with someone who understood the ins and outs of New England society just made for an easier time of it, so I decided to give the girlfriend thing a shot with her. We both had to be in Boston at the same time in order to be together anyway, and that wasn’t always easy. As much as I’d made the effort to work toward what I believed to be my first real relationship, in the hopes maybe I’d feel something for Janice, it was time to face up to the fact there was nothing deeper than an orgasm or two going on between us and there never had been.
My mother would be devastated when she found out. Probably even more than Janice would be. Our families were close and I accepted that it would be awkward between her people and mine once our break-up was announced.
Note to self: Don’t fuck friends of the family in the future.
And there was also the suspicion Janice was cheating on me. The fact that I wasn’t bothered too much was telling in itself, but she was the only woman I’d been with for the last six months. If we couldn’t even be honest with each other about who we were fucking, then it was hopeless for us anyway. Not contracting genital herpes would be an additional plus.
I wished I could lay that bomb on my mother when she started in with the guilt trip over our demise as a couple. But it wouldn’t do for Madelaine Blackstone to hear the word “fuck” or any variation of it in a conversation with her son. Ever. What a pity that was. I’d love to see the horrified look on her face—
“What are you smiling about?” Janice asked, her hand sliding down my stomach on a direct path to my cock.
“Was I?” I stopped her hand from gripping me at the last second and disentangled myself from her body. I rested my forehead in my hands as I sat up on the side of the bed.
“Yeah, Caleb, you were.” She sounded annoyed. “What’s the matter with you anyway? Why don’t you want to go again?” She draped herself over my back and shimmied the whole naked length of her body into mine while I tried not to shudder. “You know once is never enough for me,” she said with a very noticeable touch of desperation thrown in to hopefully change my mind.
You’re a motherfucking idiot for ever getting involved with her. Learn from this, moron. Learn!
I was pretty sure Janice was a nymphomaniac, and while it had been a bonus in the beginning for a guy who needed to have his brains fucked out to bear the loss of a beloved parent—now not so much. I reached for my pants and dragged them on, desperate to put a barrier between my cock and her as quickly as possible. I really needed a shower, but my conscience couldn’t go another five minutes without dealing with delivering the news we were finished—fucking—forever.
The three f’s that became an eventual reality for every woman I’d ever been with.
I knew it made me an asshole for having sex with her first. I shouldn’t have and I wasn’t proud of it, but to be fair, Janice initiated the sex tonight, starting with the elevator ride up to my apartment. She would have happily blown me on security camera if I hadn’t insisted we wait. Public fucking was her thing, not mine.
Tonight I’d needed h
er on my arm for a charity dinner because at five grand a plate it was downright cheap if you went solo. Ten thousand dollars to cancer research was a lot better than five for the charity. I wouldn’t have minded writing a check for ten times that amount and skipping the dinner altogether, but that would be a socially retarded thing to do. Benefitting cancer research in my father’s name was something I would support generously for as long as I lived. My check would always have the extra zero at the end of it anyway.
“So you’re really all done for the night.” I could hear the disdain in her voice. “Caleb, I’m leaving for Hong Kong in the morning. It’ll be at least a week before we can be together again.”
Try never.
I sighed and turned to face her.
“Janice, we need to talk.”
Thirty minutes later I was minus my first “girlfriend” and in possession of a very noticeable shiner. For a hundred-pound woman, Janice could throw down. It helped that she took me by surprise and I never saw it coming. It would also be fair to say she was unhappy about our break-up.
I checked the bruise on my left cheekbone and the accompanying black eye in the entryway mirror. It would look so much worse in the morning. Going into the office would be fun tomorrow. When I asked for her key to my apartment be returned, the crazy bitch had punched me right in the face.
With her motherfucking shoe.
The crying came a minute later, accompanied by hysterical accusations of me leading her along to think we were heading towards marriage and a future together. I knew exactly where that idea had come from the second she screamed it at me in a rage.
Fucking crazy talk. I told her there was only one Mrs. Blackstone alive in my family, and that was my recently widowed mother, the person responsible for planting such a ridiculous notion into her head. She’d told me to fuck off before storming out my door, calling me every name in the book as she cat-walked her way toward the elevators. The neighbors would’ve had to have been dead in order to miss her not-so-subtle show.
God.
My phone buzzed and I was afraid to look to see who was messaging me. I wasn’t up for discussing Janice with Mom right now, or anytime for that matter.
James. I guessed what he would say before I even started reading because he only lived two floors down from me. She hadn’t had far to travel.
J: Hey man Jan is here crying u broke up w/her. That true?
I shook my head as my fingers flew.
C: Yeah.
J: So...u don’t care she’s here?
The poor bastard was playing with deadly fire. Like soak a huge pile of dry leaves with gasoline and blast it with a blowtorch.
C: Nope. Thx for checking w/me first but we are over.
J: Ok man.
Christ, James was gonna go there with Janice.
C: Hey James?
J: Yeah.
C: Be careful. Don’t die tonight. Jan is a goddamn nympho if u didn’t know already.
J: Yeah I got that impression when she showed up here and said she wanted 2 suck my cock. I won’t die u fool. Talk later-
C: Safe sex, James and wrap that shit up tight.
J: Yep.
C: Suggest u only go one night. She’s a clinger.
J:
I went to get a Sam Adams out of the fridge. What a cluster of a night. Did it make me a horrible person to be worrying more about what was happening to my friend than my ex-girlfriend right now? James Blakney was in for a night of crazy sex with an even crazier Janice. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for dodging an immediate bullet with her, but knew this shit couldn’t possibly end well for me, or for James. But I had to remind myself he was a big boy and he had been warned. He’d find out exactly what Janice was like soon enough.
I needed to put in an order to have my locks changed. I quickly sent a text to my PA Victoria to set that up. She’d take care of it tomorrow.
A shower was calling my name. Burning hot with lots of Dial soap—the hardcore yellow stuff that just about took your skin away with the dirt.
I flipped on the light to my bathroom and flinched at the sight of what greeted me.
“Jesus. Christ.”
Janice had been upstairs trashing my bathroom while I thought she was getting dressed to leave. FUCKING BASTARD was scrawled on the mirror in her red lipstick. She’d smeared shampoo, toothpaste, and God knows what else, everywhere from the walls to the countertops to the floor. Towels had been shoved into the toilet. The contents of the drawers had been dumped out and thrown around. Utter mayhem and destruction. I checked the cupboards but the stuff there appeared untouched, somehow miraculously escaping The Wrath of Janice. I was almost expecting a severed horse head or a dead bunny rabbit to be behind the doors when I opened them to check. The whole thing was straight out of Fatal Attraction and creepy as fuck.
I shut off the light and headed for the guest room to take my shower, draining my beer as I went. I felt sorry for Ann having to clean it all up tomorrow, but the mess was too much for me to deal with right now. I’d be sure to thank Ann with a paid extra day off during the week for her trouble. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.
Oh goody, a picture. From Janice. Of her sucking on James’s cock no less. She even added a message to go along with it. You will be so sorry you ever fucked with me Caleb Blackstone.
I was already sorry. And Janice was seriously unhinged.
I did three things before powering off my phone for the night. Deleted the photo. Blocked Janice’s number. Texted James to tell him she was posting pics of his dick in her mouth. His father, a judge for the First Circuit Court of Appeals, wouldn’t be too keen about it should the picture get leaked. Well, four things. I went back for another beer and downed it before going to the guest room for my long overdue shower.
As the too-hot water poured over my skin I made a promise to myself to stay away from women for a while. Dating certainly wasn’t doing me much good and I’d had it with all of the crazy females who only wanted to use me for open access to my money, or trap me into marrying them.
Where were the normal women of the world?
Were they only a myth?
I remembered something Dad had said to me before he’d died. “When you find whatever it is that makes you happy, Caleb, hold on to it with everything you’ve got. Your heart will let you know.”
I wanted to believe what Dad had told me was true, but the fact of the matter was my heart hadn’t told me a thing in a very long time.
TWO
~BROOKE~
Blackstone Island, Massachusetts
Living on an island had its perks, but the hour-long commute on the ferry into Boston wasn’t one of them. There were other reasons for being here though. Good reasons, I reminded myself as I pulled my coat a little tighter against the autumn chill breezing over the water.
My nan needed me now and there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for the woman who’d taken me in at fifteen after Mum and Dad were killed. I don’t really remember a great deal about when I first came to live on the island with Nan. I must have blocked it out due to the terrible shock over what had happened to my parents, and being so suddenly uprooted. The high-end touristy retreat called Blackstone Island couldn’t be more dissimilar from the place I’d previously called home. From the suburbs of London to a swath of colonial America separated from the mainland by Massachusetts Bay. Well, at least the language was the same.
Sort of.
“Oh, you have an accent.” No, you’re the ones with the accent.
“You’re from Australia, right?” Wrong hemisphere.
“Hey Brooke, say something in your English accent for me.” Something.
I had heard every joke and had been asked nearly every question imaginable, but it didn’t bother me. Not really. I knew people were merely curious about how I’d come to be here and tried to be friendly.
In time I came out of my shock. I went on to finish what they called high school here on the island, and
then later attended university at Suffolk where I earned my degree in interior design. I didn’t realize it then but those were the happy times.
Then I met someone and made a terrible mistake, and had to leave Nan on the island while I lived far away in Los Angeles. I suffered through my terrible mistake for a year and a half until the day came that I didn’t have to endure the suffering anymore. Not physically at least. The sorrow was still with me and probably always would be, but I was determined to keep moving forward in a positive way. And I’d made a promise to myself not to let the bad parts of my past hurt me anymore. It was a goal and I planned to stick to it.
Five months ago I left L.A. and came back to Boston, and then went about the process of getting my life back. Nan was still in her darling cottage on Blackstone Island where she had come to live all the way from England as a young bride. Many a time I’ve heard the locals tell the story about how my grandfather had brought home an “English girl” for a wife, as if she’d come from an alien planet. Nan and I had our citizenship in common—both British born but called America our home.
I’d lived in the U.S. for so long now it was home in my mind.
“Penny for your thoughts, young lady.”
I turned toward twinkling blue eyes that regarded me kindly and smiled. Herman was a dedicated flirt. Since he had to be pushing seventy, and also the mayor of Blackstone Island I gave him a pass. He was rumored to own most of the property on the island and to be worth millions. You’d never know it though. He lived what appeared to be a modest life in a very small house, with a really big ocean-front view—probably what constituted the millions he purportedly had—and was one of the most cheerful people I’d ever met in my life. He always greeted me warmly and asked about Nan. I’d wondered if he might be a little in love with my nan, actually.