Beware

by Shanora Williams

  “Should be grateful.”

  “Oh, trust me,” I say, lowering my menu. “…I am. I have no choice but to be. I just think a simple night out at IHOP or even a burger joint around here would’ve sufficed.”

  He laughs, looking over his menu. “Out of your damn mind. Not after what went down last night. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  I smile and look down at my menu again. Our waiter, a young Hispanic female with thick black hair, comes to our table with a pitcher of ice water. She gives her greetings, introduces herself as Maya, pours us each a glass of cool water, and asks if we’d like something tastier to drink.

  “You can bring us your best wine,” Ace says.

  “We have our guest’s favorite tonight. Opus One. Delicious red wine. Will that be okay?” Maya asks.

  “Perfect.”

  “Be right back.” She rushes from the table to get to the bar.

  As I look back up at Ace, a question that’s been playing Ping-Pong in my mind ever since the encounter yesterday morning reappears, and I can’t help but to bring it up. “So… Miss Baker,” I say.

  He looks up, narrowing his eyes at me.

  “Just curious about her.”

  “Just a nosey woman that needed to be put in her place,” he mumbles.

  “What is she, a lawyer or something?”

  “Yep. Used to be mine.”

  “She isn’t anymore?”

  “No. Things got… complicated between us. Couldn’t work with someone I was…” he pauses, swallowing.

  I know exactly what he’s going to say, so I fill in the blank for him. “Messing around with.”

  “Exactly. But that’s over and done with. Found out I couldn’t trust her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Long story short, she sucks as a lawyer. She told too much of my business to people she worked with. Confidential things. I should’ve had her fired for it. I let her off with a warning, but apparently, she didn’t understand because there she was today, in my home. I need to remind myself to change my locks.”

  I press my lips, shrugging. “How often did you two… you know?”

  He looks up, a smile twitching at his lips. “Why? Jealous?”

  I pick up my glass of water. “Not at all, actually.”

  He gives a throaty chuckle. “Funny, Red.” Looking me over, he picks up his glass of water and takes a sip. “I see you aren’t wearing pearls or silk tonight.”

  I laugh, looking down at my teal pencil skirt and simple white blouse. “You got lucky. Those were the only two I had. Could’ve worn the black one, but Bianca gave me way too much to choose from to repeat the same dress.”

  He lowers his glass, looking down at his menu. “You know what would’ve happened, had you’ve worn it.” He says each word smoothly. Nonchalantly. And for some reason, it makes my belly heat with pleasure.

  “I’m not quite sure what you mean,” I murmur, toying with a lock of my hair.

  He looks up, watching as I chew my bottom lip. “Testing me again?” He cocks an eyebrow.

  “Want me to?” I tempt.

  “Behave,” he says, voice low and gruff. That simple demand from him is even more tempting. I clench between my legs. God…

  Luckily, before anything can get started, our waitress returns with our wine and pops the cork. She pours us each a glass then places it on the table. After we give our orders, she takes our menus and says our food will arrive shortly.

  Clearing my throat, I sit up in my seat and run my palms down the lap of my skirt. I have nothing to distract me from him but my glass of wine, so I pick it up and take a few hard swallows.

  “So,” I say, placing my empty wine glass on the white tablecloth. “What made you want to take me out tonight?”

  He looks me over, running his eyes from my face to my chest. He then sighs, picking up the wine bottle. He pours me another glass, and I thank him with a nod. “I know what day it is… for you,” he murmurs.

  I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he sighs, “…I know today is your birthday.”

  I stare at him, swallowing thickly. Lowering my glass to the table, I turn my head and clear my throat. “Oh. Yeah,” I whisper.

  His gaze is still on me. “Jonah had it on his fridge. I remembered. He also told me your parents died that night… on your birthday.”

  “Oh.” I jerk my head down to hide my watery eyes. “Yeah. Um…” I clear my throat, batting my tears away. “We were actually on the road that day. We were coming back from Jonah’s baseball tournament in North Carolina. Jonah didn’t leave with us because his team went to an amusement park afterwards. My parents decided to leave early so we could go visit Nana and pick up a cake and ice cream. We were supposed to be home before him, but he beat us there… because of the wreck.”

  Ace swallows audibly. “I’m sorry.”

  I flick my wrist, shaking my head. “It’s… over and done with. No need to apologize. Things happen.”

  He nods.

  I know he doesn’t have anything else to say in response, so I decide to change the subject. After all, I can’t dwell on such a tragic event. I’ve learned to cope with it, even though I was a witness to every single thing. And Jonah… no. I can’t even get started on him. That’s still a fresh wound. “I thought about my birthday a few weeks ago, but with everything going on now, I honestly forgot all about it.” I force a smile, rolling my eyes. “So, that’s why you brought me to this snazzy restaurant?” I ask, hoping to change the mood and fight my tears.

  He lifts a shoulder, glancing around. “You needed to get out… breathe. Have a good time.”

  “That’s the only reason why you took me out? I needed to breathe?” I give him a look full of doubt.

  He picks up his glass. “That’s it.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I say, picking my wine glass up as well and taking a sip.

  “Why not?”

  “Just don’t. I feel like you’re also trying to… get to know me?”

  “I think I know enough about you,” he mumbles.

  “But you’d like to know more…?”

  He sighs, placing his back against his chair. Then he asks, “What do you want me to say? That I didn’t just take you out for a nice birthday dinner, but also because I like you?

  “I just want the truth,” I say, laughing.

  “Okay.” He sits up again, crossing his fingers on the table. “I also asked you out tonight because I like you, London. I enjoy being around you. Is that a problem?”

  Smiling over my glass, I tell him, “I enjoy being around you, too, Ace.”

  ***

  After dinner, Ace escorts me to his Mercedes. Once he’s inside, he starts the car but leaves it in park. “I wanna take you somewhere,” he says.

  I look up at him. “Where?”

  “A place Jonah would’ve loved to show you.”

  I stare into his eyes, confused. He doesn’t dare look away. Not until I do. And when I do, he puts the car in drive and pulls off. I sit still in my seat, my mind boggled. Those four glasses of wine aren’t doing me any justice. I can’t concentrate, and I really want to figure out what he means before we reach the destination.

  Unfortunately, before I can figure it out, we approach a tall black building with tinted black windows. Ace pulls into the parking deck and drives all the way to the top. After parking, he shuts the car off and looks my way.

  “Where are we?” I ask quietly.

  “You’ll know once we’re inside.”

  I glance at him.

  “Come on.” He steps out the car before I can ask anything else. Walking around the hood, Ace meets at my door and pulls it open. Extending a hand to me, he looks down, face stiff. Sighing, I take his hand and step out.

  “It’s nothing bad,” he assures me as we start for the elevator.

  “Just tell me where we are.”

  “I think you’ll figure it out,” he says, just as we enter the elevator. He pr
esses the number 4, and the elevator goes down two levels. Once the doors shoot open, he leads the way without a word.

  We pass by rooms with numbers. I realize this isn’t an office of some sort. These rooms look personal and even have slots for someone to slip a notice or a piece of mail into.

  Then, I realize where we are—where he’s dragged me too.

  And I freeze, watching as Ace carries himself down the hallway. No longer hearing my footsteps, he glances over his shoulder, eyebrows stitched.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Why’d you bring me here?” I breathe, hoping my voice is loud enough to be heard.

  He stares at me for a brief moment, then sighs and turns straight with his back to me. He pinches the bridge of his nose, blows out a thick breath, then turns in my direction. Marching toward me rapidly, he stares me in the eyes, no trace of a smile on his face. My heart thunders, and I take a few steps back, but he meets up to me, grabbing my wrist. He doesn’t grab it too tightly, just enough to hold onto me.

  I stare down at his large, tan hand around my slightly pale arm.

  “Look at me,” he whispers. My bottom lip trembles, but I force myself to look up and meet his eyes. He’s already staring into mine, his face soft. “Trust me?”

  I stare at him longer than expected. I know he wants an answer; I see it in his eyes, but I’m not sure what to say. Truth is, I have no idea whether I trust Ace or not. I’ve had no reason to really trust him. I mean, I do like all he’s done for me, and how he’s welcomed me… and even how we’d committed the worst act of lust, but I don’t know if I trust him yet.

  “Ace—I…” I’m hesitant. Suddenly, my words lodge in my throat.

  He blinks slowly, looking down at the hand on my arm. I look with him, and he slowly guides his hand down to mine. Running his finger down the center of my palm, he leans forward, placing a kiss on the corner of my lips.

  I shiver as his finger continues up my arm, circling my elbow. He brings his hand back down to entwine his fingers with mine.

  “It’s best if you don’t,” he murmurs. My breath hitches as I look up to meet his honey eyes. A hint of a smile is on the corner of his lips. “But I want you to come with me. It’ll be worth it.”

  Nodding, I cling onto his hand and allow him to lead the way. With his free hand, he digs in his right pocket for a key. Once he finds it, he stuffs it in the lock of the door and it gradually creaks open.

  I keep all breath held in, expecting the worse. But as Ace steps inside, his hand still glued to mine, I see that it isn’t bad at all, besides the foul stench most likely coming from the trash can.

  The loft is still completely furnished. He still has the same black leather sofa he had when he lived in Atlanta. Seeing it makes me smile and remember how often he slept on that thing. He probably continued to sleep on it when he moved here, even though he had a perfectly good bed in his room.

  Releasing Ace’s hand, I step past him, walking slowly toward the living room. It’s set up like Jonah would’ve set it up. The flat screen TV is on top of the coffee table I bought for him instead of mounted on the wall. I laugh silently, shaking my head at the thought of him being too lazy to mount it himself.

  Hot, thick tears burn my eyes as I remember him refusing to take the coffee table. He swore that I needed it more, but the truth was I didn’t need it at all. To make up for it, he ordered me one from a vintage store I loved and had it shipped to my home. He spent all the money he had from his check that week just to give it to me.

  “Shit,” I whisper, wobbling on my heels. I try and fight the memories, the thought of him, but it’s impossible. I smell him everywhere. I see him everywhere, performing his old habits in each part of this home. I’ve been to his old apartment, but I’ve never been to this one.

  Turning my head to the right, I spot a door that’s most likely his bedroom. I march toward it, pushing the door open slowly. There’s a king sized bed against the east wall, a window above it. His clothes are all over the place—on the accent chairs, his desk, the bottom of his bed. It’s just as filthy as it would’ve been if he were still here. He never believed in putting clean clothes back in the closet—or dirty clothes in a hamper.

  My heart thunders in my ears as I stare around the room, but as I spot a picture frame sitting on the nightstand beside his bed, my entire body turns cold. Slowly making my way ahead, I stare at it for what feels like an eternity before picking it up to get a closer look.

  It’s a picture of Jonah and me at a waterpark. I was only five. He was nine. Behind us are the two people I hate I never got to grow up with, the people I hardly even knew.

  My parents.

  Seeing this picture, remembering just how that perfect day went, sends me over the edge. I cup a hand over my mouth before the gasp can break out. My eyes close, but the tears escape. I break down right in Jonah’s bedroom, shaking my head as the perfect picture collects my tears. My throat closes in as I place the picture frame back on the nightstand.

  And suddenly, anger boils in my blood. Rage courses through me, and I turn around, grabbing everything in my way and throwing it against the walls, even on the floor. His clothes, his trophies, even his printer. I rip a few papers, shouting obscenities I don’t even understand. All I know is I’m upset. I’m lonely. I’m terrified. And I hate that he’s gone. I hate that I have no one now. I hate that I don’t have a perfect life, or the perfect family. I hate that, if I am to ever have children, my parents will never get to meet them. That my children will never get to meet their grandparents or their uncle.

  I hate everything.

  I hate my life.

  I hate having feelings.

  I just want to be numb.

  So right now, everything that’s in my way needs to be destroyed. In order for me to start over—forget—I have to demolish. I have to burn it all. I have to get rid of it.

  Tears blind me as I pick up the desktop from the desk. I lift it above my head and start to throw it at the wall, but a hand catches my arm and prevents it from happening. He snatches the desktop out of my hand and places it back on the desk. He looks back at me, a deep, agitated frown on his face.

  “Stop, London.”

  His order pisses me off. He shouldn’t be telling me to stop. He should be helping me. He should want to get rid of this shit just as much as I do. Ace reaches for my shoulders, but I back away, pointing a stern finger at him.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” I hiss.

  His expression doesn’t change. His face is still as smooth as it was before, if not more. He takes a step forward, ignoring my demand. He tries going for my hands this time, but I snatch them away.

  “Just stop!” I shout. “Please!” I back away into a corner, trapping myself between the walls that echo memories of Jonah and Ace. Thick tears stream down my cheeks, and I spiral.

  My gut clenches.

  My heart races.

  “Why aren’t you upset?” I ask, staring up at him. “Why don’t you fucking care!? Why did you just let him die like that, Ace? You could’ve saved him! You could’ve helped him. He could still be here if you would’ve just stepped in!”

  Without even knowing it, I’m banging against his chest. He doesn’t budge. He’s not even looking at me. Instead, his gaze is on the wall behind me, and that pisses me off even more.

  “Show something!” I scream. “Don’t just stand there! Stop acting like you don’t fucking care!”

  Apparently my words are triggers because instantly, he stares down at me, his jaw clenching. He crushes his lips together, takes my face in his hands, and glares down at me. I see the anger that’s just struck him. I see how pissed he is. Terror hits me, but I don’t budge. Somehow, I know he won’t hurt me…

  “I did fucking care,” he grumbles, nostrils flared. “I fucking cared, London. More than you think. So don’t tell me I didn’t.” He shakes his head, releasing my face. When he turns his back to me, he says, “But I wasn’t supposed to. Tha
t’s the problem.”

  “What do you mean?” I whisper.

  He turns toward me again, his eyes soft but his face still hard like granite. “Caring gets you nowhere, London. No fucking where. I’d just met him, took him under my wing and… shit just went downhill. You don’t think I blame myself for his death? Because I do. If we never would’ve met, he’d still be around, selling watches or whatever the hell he was doing. He’d be miserable, but he’d be alive.”

  My throat constricts. Finally, he’s blaming himself.

  I thought I’d love to hear him take the blame, but I don’t. I feel awful because, in his eyes, I see that he does care. That he did care. That he loved Jonah. He just doesn’t know how to show it.

  “I just don’t understand why,” I murmur, looking down.

  Silence bleeds through the walls. All is still until Ace takes a step back and says, “You never will.” And when he says that, I look up, but his back is already to me. He starts making his way out of the bedroom, his steps slow and heavy. “Let’s go. Maybe it was too soon to bring you here.”

  He disappears, but I stare ahead, even more confused than I once was. I look around the messy room, blinking rapidly. Then, I pull myself together, hurrying out of the bedroom and away from everything that belonged to Jonah.

  The ride back to the condo is silent. But it’s understandable. After seeing her wreck that room, I think I know exactly how she feels about all of this. About Jonah’s death and about being in the position she’s in.

  She’s pissed. She hurting. She’s angry and feels like there’s no hope. As much as I don’t want to care about how she feels, I can’t pretend I don’t. I feel bad for her. I know a girl like her doesn’t deserve half the shit she’s been through. But my motto in life has always been “shit happens” because, honestly, it does, whether we want it to or not. Most of it is bad shit, but there are some good days. I know I’m to blame for how she feels right now. If she was home, in Atlanta, she might feel a little better. But I have her trapped here for my own selfish needs.

  Pulling up to the curb, I park the car and clutch the wheel, refusing to look her way. She finally lifts her head, swipes at her eyes, and looks out the window to see where we are. Swallowing audibly, she unbuckles her seatbelt, grabs her purse, and opens the door. Before she completely climbs out, she glances my way and clears her throat.