Round N Around We Go (Has Cupid Gone Mad?)

by Belinda Elkaim

  Round N Around We Go

  ‘Has Cupid Gone Mad? – Book Two’

  by BelindaElkaim

  © 2013 Belinda Elkaim Miami – Florida

  Round N Around We Go ‘Has Cupid Gone Mad? Book Two’

  Copyright © 2013 by Belinda Elkaim

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

  graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in

  critical articles and reviews.

  Ovation Publication books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting

  Belinda Elkaim Miami, Florida 1-786-440-8189

  Printed in the United States of America

  “Secrets secrets secrets … Some words are better left unsaid but truth in the matter remains, we reap what we sow.”

  Belinda Elkaim

  Prologue

  Haunted by the phantom of her deceased boyfriend, Karina is confused as ever and attempts to lead a life which isn't hers to live; Taylor's ego clashes with Ivan's and accepts his challenge of a '90 days bet' which ends up in a cover up of her own misfortune; Amber's boy toy turns out to be an obsessive stalker who means nothing but trouble. Trouble prone, the three best friends struggle along and do the best they can, until someone gets badly hurt. Chapter One

  The silky red robe drapes her luscious body and embraces the contours of her perfectly toned body. The belt is untied and dangles loosely through the loops on both sides. Hanging slightly opened in the front, the luxurious fabric sways as she moves and reveals the cleavage of her full and voluptuous breasts.

  Humming a tune in her mind, she gracefully raises both arms above her head and begins to dance as if she were a belly dancer except noticeably, she tries to choreograph ballet steps into the routine. She spins around on tip toes and the fabric of the robe dances in air to compete with the elegance of her mesmerizing motion.

  She swirls into the bathroom and smiles at her reflection in the oversize mirror. Indiscreetly she admires the results of her religious workout routines. Her body is in the finest shape and is flawlessly toned from head to toe, ready for a new Broadway season which commences in a few months.

  As if exempted from natural aging, she is blessed with a youthful appearance that makes her look at least twelve years younger than her chronological age of thirty six. Her stylishly layered brunette hair curls inward and drapes the contours of her near perfect facial features. Rather impossible to ignore her greenish blue eyes that run deeper than the mysterious waters of the Atlantis, and once gazed upon, addiction to her presence is almost instant.

  She leans closer to the mirror, inspects her nearly unblemished skin and gasps audibly as she realizes that a visit to her dermatologist is overdue. The photo shoot of a new poster for her Broadway musical is scheduled in two weeks and she must look impeccably radiant. Amber Winters is born a Broadway star, her comeback performance is a major success and her fans are finding every reason to forgive her premature retirement at the peak of her career some twelve years ago. Besides the inarguable talent that she possesses, Amber’s strengths are her lovable charisma and compelling stage presence, weapons that she is fully aware of and utilizes to the fullest extent.

  Pulling back the layers of her long brunette hair, she twirls it a round a few times and clips it on top of her head. Ever so sensually she removes the red robe and lets it slip onto the round Persian rug in the center of the marbled bathroom floor.

  She closes the drain of the art deco bath basin made out of hand painted enameled cast iron and fills it with warm water. While waiting for the basin to fill, she turns around and studies the reflection of her naked body in the full length mirror at the corner of the bathroom.

  She angles her curvaceous yet slender body from side to side and tries to find traces of imperfection that does not exist. Apparently her personal trainer and nutritionist have ensured that she will have zero grounds for complaints.

  Stepping into the basin she lets out a soft moan of pleasure and eagerly immerses her body in a therapeutic soak after a two hours workout routine. Just as she submerges herself into the serenity of the moment, her attention is interrupted by an oddly unfamiliar and ghastly smell of something burning in her penthouse condominium.

  Concerned by the odor which is coming through the ventilation system, she quickly steps out of the tub, dripping wet she wraps herself in a bathrobe and dashes out to search for the source of the burning smell.

  “Neyo? Something is burning, where are you?” she searches for her lover in the living room but he is nowhere in sight. She scans across the room and prances down the hallway towards the powder room. The door is locked and she could smell something burning from behind the door. “Neyo?” she pounds on the door, “What is that smell? Open the door now!”

  Slyly he shouts from behind the door. “Just a minute!” Neyo, the lead cast of Amber’s musical, opens the door and steps out of the smoke filled powder room. Half naked with his designer jeans unbuttoned, his milk chocolate colored skin gleams under the spotlight of the corridor. Preoccupied by the sight of his impeccably built body, she frowns and stares into his light hazel eyes now disturbingly bloodshot.

  Instantaneously she recognizes the smell of burnt marijuana and demands an explanation from her obviously stoned lover.

  “Are you insane? Did you bring weed into my place?” she tightens the belt of her bathroom and pushes him aside to inspect the powder room.

  “Relax baby doll, it’s just a joint. You should try some, it’s good for you.” He blocks her path, takes her by the shoulders and removes her from the powder room then closes the door behind them.

  Neyo grabs Amber by the waist and backs her away from the powder room while kissing her neck. “You’re way too tense, let me relax you.” He whispers into her ear and sweeps her off her feet. Carrying her to the sofa of the living room, he kisses her passionately and tries to make her forgive the odor that quickly fills her condo.

  Amber manages to mumble while he reaches under her bathrobe to caress her breasts. “I don’t care what you do outside, but don’t you dare bring that stuff into my place again, you got that?”

  Utterly stoned, Neyo isn’t really sure about what Amber is trying to tell him. In fact, he isn’t even paying attention to her words. All he knows is that his primal desire for her is becoming uncontrollable. He needs her.

  Despite the twelve months of undeniable pleasure that they have shared, Amber regrets to have accepted Neyo’s proposal of an ‘unattached relationship.’

  She regrets to have taken lightly the words of her producer and best friend Conrad, who has warned her to be vigilant and not to be implicated with someone from an entirely different social stature, especially not with the lead cast of her own musical.

  Acutely late to pull away, she is addicted to him and craves the pleasure that seemingly only he knows how to ignite. Her intuition has warned her over many occasions that he means nothing but trouble and that she should refrain from seeing him. She knows that she should follow her instinct but her body defies the reasoning.

  Captivated and disinclined to quit, she needs his touch and he is well aware of it. Taking full advantage of her weakness, he finds it thrilling to manipulate her as he remains irresistible to her in each and every way.

  An hour has passed when Neyo climbs off the sofa. Drops of sweat drip carelessly down his back as he smiles at the sight of his conquest. Amber rests soundlessly and contently on the sofa with her eyes closed. Pulling up his designer jean
s, Neyo zips up and walks over to the kitchen, removes a small medicine bottle from the back pocket and swallows two pills with a gulp of Pelligrino.

  Peeking from across the room, she admires his body and asks curiously, “what’s that for?”

  Neyo seems surprised that Amber is watching him, tucks the bottle back into the pocket of his jeans, turns around and forges a guilty smile as if he is hiding something. “Nothing,” he assures her and avoids suspicion; “it’s medication for my ulcer.”

  ************

  Cruising at 65mph along 195 heading west, Karina Sebastian, former model turned artist, exits north and heads home to the Art Lofts in midtown Miami.

  Speeding along with the windows of her brand new Audi rolled down, her wild mane of long blond hair dances with the wind. She sweeps her fingers through the untamed locks and tugs them behind her ears, then dons her large rimmed sunglasses to protect her gorgeous blue eyes from the piercing wind.

  She reads the clock on the dashboard and it is only six thirty p.m. “Still ample time before sunset.” She thinks to herself and decides to drive around the Art & Design District to check out the world renowned street art.

  It has been nearly two weeks since her relocation to midtown, boxes are still unpacked but she is eager to learn more about her new neighborhood and is anxious to start working full time at Theodore’s art gallery in South Beach.

  Having suffered a heartbreak, miscarriage, anemia and severe insomnia, she is finally beginning to recover physically. With the help of her entrusted therapist, she is starting to feel relieved from the emotional distraught triggered by the death of her belated boyfriend Alex. She will never forget the day when she was given the urn containing his ashes and will forever remember the greatness of the love that they had shared.

  His struggle with leukemia was only disclosed to her during the very last stage when hospice care was refused. The last memories that she has of him was how he deteriorated and refused to let her stand by his side. She wasn’t allowed to see the last of him and misses him immensely.

  It has been nearly a year since his death and she feels that a change of scenery might help her recover from depression. A new home and a fresh start in midtown Miami might be the perfect antidote for the agony that only she knows exists.

  Music is blasting from the stereo of her car. Tired of R&B, she presses the buttons of the radio and switches from station to station and searches for up tempo electronic dance music.

  Her focus is whisked off the road for just a split moment but long enough for her to miss a turn. The detour leads her to a shady looking neighborhood off the main streets of the Art District. She realizes that she is lost within the side streets off NE 28th and NW 2nd Avenue and shrugs. “Darn.” she whispers loudly and looks around, “Where am I?”

  Just five blocks away from her art loft, the artistic hype of midtown turns ghetto. Frankly scared, she knows that this is a rather dangerous area and she definitely should not be there. Desperate to find her way back to civilization on Biscayne Boulevard, she makes another wrong turn and begins to panic.

  Karina looks around, rolls up the windows and locks the doors of her car. Without seeing this sharp statue like object on the road ahead, she drives right over it and the jagged edges of the statue pierce straight through the front tire on the left. She feels the car tilt to the side and pulls slowly to a stop. She lowers the volume of the music and steps out of the car to inspect the damage.

  Staring at the punctured tire, she covers one eye with her hand and curses silently. “Shit,” she says out loud, “now what?”

  Feeling uncomfortable in a precarious neighborhood, she swiftly climbs back into her car and locks the doors. While dialing the number of her best friend Taylor, she notices that her phone is almost out of battery. Taylor is not answering the phone. “Pick up Taylor, pick up the phone!” she mumbles to herself. After the forth try, she gives up and tries to call her other best friend Amber for help. Amber’s phone goes straight to voicemail. “Great!” Karina shuts her eyes and tries to think.

  She has never changed a tire before but realizing that it’s almost sundown, she is willing to try anything to get out of this eerie looking neighborhood.

  She taps on the YouTube icon of her cell phone and searches for a video tutorial on how to change a tire. Halfway through the video and seeing the sky turning darker, she decides to bring out the spare tire and attempts to change it herself. “Can’t be that difficult!” she mumbles and with all her strength, she drags out the spare tire and a tool box from the trunk. “My God this is heavy!” she mumbles.

  Forty five minutes later, tools are scattered across the ground, freshly manicured nails are ruined and her hands are covered in grime. By the time she successfully removes the punctured tire, the sky has turned dark and the street is only dimly lit. She tries her impossible to fit the spare tire into the link; to no avail she begins to panic. “Dimmit!” she kicks the spare tire and wipes her hand with a washcloth.

  She climbs back into the car, locks the doors and reaches for her cell phone. Neither Taylor nor Amber has returned her calls. Redialing Taylor’s number, she is startled to a scream by knocks on the window.

  Karina gasps and stares at the stranger standing next to door. He knocks on the window again and gestures her to roll down the window. Frightened, she stares at this rather attractive and well dressed man, he does not appear to her as someone who would harm her but she has learned not to trust anyone by the way they present themselves.

  “Go away!” she gestures him to leave. Shaking her head from side to side, she repeats from inside the safety of her locked car and expects him to read her lips. “Go away!” she screams louder.

  She watches the stranger walk back towards his car parked behind hers. The head lights of his car are turned on and she can hardly see beyond the headon lights.

  From the rearview mirror, she watches him open the trunk of his car. She can see that he is bringing out an object that resembles a long metal stick and is holding a black object in his hand.

  Panicking and about to dial 911 for help, she pauses as he walks past her and bends out of sight by the front wheel.

  She feels the car jolting a bit then drops to level. After a series of clanging noise, the stranger stands up and turns off the black flash light in his hand.

  Still startled, Karina is speechless and the only thing that she is capable of doing at this particular moment is to continue watching him in silence.

  Holding the metal jack and flash light in one hand, the stranger reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a card. He manages to write something on it and slips it under the windshield wiper of Karina’s car.

  He taps gently on the window of her car and flashes a genuinely warm smile before he walks back to his car and drives off.

  Still speechless, Karina unlocks the doors and steps out of the car. The punctured tire is tossed out of the way and the spare tire is intact. The tools that were scattered are put back neatly into the toolbox. Expediently, she grabs the toolbox and the card from under the windshield.

  Quickly she climbs back into the car and turns on the light to read the card. On the back of his business card and in his handwriting he scribbled: “You’re welcome.”

  She flips to the front of his business card and reads his name out loud, “Keith Pelzer, PA. Thank you.” She laughs and shrugs in relief. “Okay,” she mumbles, “now how the heck do I get out of here?”

  Completely lost, Karina decides to try the number printed on his business card and he answers by the second ring. “This is Keith.” He answers.

  “Hello Keith, this is Karina Sebastian. Thank you so much for helping me change the tire.” She pauses briefly, “this is too embarrassing but I just moved to midtown and am completely lost here, can you please tell me how to get back to Biscayne Boulevard?”

  “Oh is that why you looked so scared? You’re lucky I was there at the right place and the right time to be able to help you.” He
speaks in a comforting tone of voice. “Where are you now?”

  “I’m still in the same spot where you found me.” She chuckles and hears a signal on her phone that indicates the low battery level and that the phone is about to power down. “The battery of my phone is about to run out.” She adds quickly.

  “Alright, stay there and do not drive off anywhere. Turn off all the lights and lock the doors. I’m turning around to come get you.” The low battery signal continues to beep a few more times before the phone shuts off.

  “Great!” Karina sighs and tosses the phone onto the passenger seat.

  She has no other choice but to wait patiently for him to arrive.

  At this moment, Keith appears to be the only person available to help her. Without any doubt in her mind, this is merely a coincidence and it just happens that he is there at the most perfect timing. Gullibly, it never crosses her mind that this might possibly be a brilliantly calculated trap.

  ************

  Taylor Gibbons, an untamed beauty, stubborn, defiant and highly talented aspiring author by the making of recognized publisher Ivan Solovich, also her editor and boyfriend, mindlessly busies herself in their kitchen while organizing her recipe cards when Ivan trips over some junk items scattered across the floor. He stumbles a few steps forward and grabs onto the back of a barstool to balance.

  He truly loves her, but being highly organized and accustomed to bachelorhood, he has maintained a clutter free home for all his life and cannot help feeling a little irate by her mess. He reminds her that it has been a month since she moved in and she should really finish unpacking.

  She honestly loves him, but having lived alone for most of her adult years, she is not used to having anyone telling her what she can or cannot do.

  Their relationship for the past year has been faultlessly perfect. They complete each other and make each other whole. When he asked her to move in, the idea seemed perfect at the moment and made absolute sense. Now that they have fully integrated with no space between each other, it’s too late for a second guess. They will have to make this work.