by Kimbra Swain
I made it to the bus stop just before it started to rain. I crowded under the small awning with several other people as we waited for the bus. The other symbols flashed through my mind. I wanted to know what they all meant.
As the bus approached, my phone rang. I dug it from my pocket, allowing other people to board before me. I darted on at the last minute.
“Hello?” I gasped.
“I need your help,” Braxton said.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Can you meet me at the coffee shop?” he asked.
“Right now?”
“Yes. Please. Shawnna isn’t here,” he said. “It would be just us.”
“Um, okay,” I replied. “I’m on the wrong bus for that, but I’ll be there soon.”
“Get off at the next stop. I’ll pick you up,” he replied. “Where are you?”
“I just got on at the art building. The next stop is the library,” I said.
“Alright. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he replied, then hung up.
I pushed my way to the door, so I could prepare to get out. So much for my nap and research. Braxton sounded like he was in trouble. I hoped he didn’t want my help with Shawnna. Despite being part of our group of friends, I wasn’t particularly fond of her.
The bus stopped, and I lunged out of the bus to the library steps. There was no awning at this stop. I rushed up the steps to find shelter under the tall Greek columns of the college’s library. The building was impressive. I wondered if there were magic books inside it. Perhaps in the special collections. I would have to investigate it later because Braxton pulled up to the curb in his Audi R8. It was bright blue and hard to miss.
Dashing back out into the rain, I made it to the car, just as he reached across to open the door for me. I felt bad sliding into the leather seat considering I was soaked from the rain.
“Sorry about the rain,” he said.
“It’s not like you made it,” I replied.
“No, but I made you get out in it. I hope you didn’t have plans,” he said.
“Nothing important. What’s going on?” I asked.
“Let’s get some coffee, and I’ll explain,” he said.
Looking at his face, I noticed the deep lines along the edges of his eyes and the furrowed brow. The stress of something weighed upon his handsome form. We rode in silence to our group’s favorite coffee shop, The Grind.
He parked near the front.
“Ready to get wet again?” he asked with an eyebrow waggle. That was the Braxton I knew. The flirt.
“I don’t think you’ve got the skill for that,” I quipped back.
“I could prove it,” he replied.
“Shawn would castrate you,” I said.
He wrinkled his nose because he knew I was right. “Let’s go inside.”
Quickly we moved from the car to the shop. He held the door open for me, then followed me inside. The place was deserted. Just the lone barista. She raised up from where she had been resting on her elbows and greeted us with a smile. I didn’t recognize her. She must be new to the shop.
“You want your regular?” Braxton asked.
It surprised me that he knew my regular, but I nodded. “I’ll find us a seat. It’s so crowded.”
He flashed me a smile, then spoke to the woman behind the counter. I grabbed a booth on the back wall and watched him interact with her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, giggling with every comment he made.
Braxton lived and breathed to flirt with women. I hadn’t figured out how in the world Shawnna managed to nail him down. She must have a golden vagina. Looking at him, if I had to guess, I’d say he was probably pretty damn good at it. Hell, it had been so long for me, that I think every guy I looked at was sexy. Dakota’s dark eyes flashed through my mind. I needed to stop comparing everything sexy to him.
My last boyfriend wasn’t really a boyfriend. More like a few dates with a one-time bedding, then he was out. I guess, I sucked. Or didn’t suck well enough. Either way, I was perpetually single. Not that I wanted to be anything but single though. The only serious relationship had ended in disaster. As most relationships do at my age. I’d decided I was too young to worry about a serious attachment. I wasn’t playing the field as much as Marley, but I certainly didn’t think settling down was on the immediate agenda.
Braxton paid the barista, telling her to keep the change. She thanked him profusely, then fluttered her eyelashes at him. No. Really. She fluttered them. I was living in a real-life cartoon world. I should keep my eyes peeled for falling anvils.
He sat the dark roast coffee with cream down for me, then took a seat across from me with his café mocha. He didn’t speak as he sipped the coffee. I decided to prod him.
“Brax, what’s wrong?” I asked.
He shook his head. “My dad called.”
His relationship with his father consisted of his father guiding Braxton’s life as he saw fit, ordering him around like a servant instead of a son. If Brax wanted his family’s money, he would have to follow his father’s orders.
“What’d he want now?” I asked.
“He wants me to propose to Shawnna. He’s trying to close a business deal with her parents, and he says that if I propose it will guarantee the acquisition of her family’s company into ours.”
“Hmm. Is that a problem? You guys have dated for a couple years now,” I said.
“We dated because we were expected to date each other. There are no feelings on either side,” he said. “Now, I’m forced to marry her when both of us could probably be happier with someone else.”
I waved my hand. “Wait a minute. She adores you,” I said.
He shook his head. “She has someone else,” he said. “Which I’m fine with, but my parents won’t be okay with her sleeping with someone else if we are married. I don’t care now because I never imagined they would make us get married.”
“We are suddenly living in the Victorian age. Arranged marriages. Secret trysts,” I teased.
“Lacey, this is serious,” he huffed.
“I know. I’m sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood. What happens if you refuse?” I asked.
“Dad will give everything to my younger brother,” he said.
“Cool. Let him marry her,” I said.
Braxton sighed. “He probably would. He’d give anything for the company.”
I reached across the table and put my hand on his. “Brax, ask yourself what you want. Do you want to marry her and carry on your father’s traditions? Or do you want to walk away and hope for a happy marriage and life? Because neither guarantee success. Do what makes you happy.”
“I don’t know what I want,” he mumbled.
“Either way, your friends are here for you,” I said. I couldn’t fully comprehend his decision. For me, it would be easy. There was no way I’d promise myself to some man just to keep some money. Okay, a whole lot of money, but still.
“I know you will be. I’m not so sure about everyone else,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I won’t be rich anymore,” he said.
I laughed at his ignorance. “We aren’t friends with you because of your money. Has anyone in our group asked for money from you?”
“No, but a lot of my friendships were like that in high school,” he said.
“We are a little grown from that now. At least, I would hope we were.”
“You aren’t.” The light of humor sparked in his eyes.
“I’ll get you for that, but yeah, maybe you are right.”
“Seriously though, you live your life so carefree. It’s pretty amazing. I wish I could live that way, but I think I’m too used to living the spoiled life. I’m not even sure what my parents would do if I refused to marry her.”
“Cut you off completely?” I asked.
He shrugged. I slowly removed my hand from his. The last thing I needed was for someone to see me touching him. Shawnna would lose her shit
, even if she didn’t love him. Good thing I did, because Marley came in not long after I let go. She waved enthusiastically to us before stopping at the counter for a coffee.
Sliding into the booth next to me, she jittered with excitement. “I have a date,” she said.
“With Culpepper?” I asked.
“Well, it’s an appointment for his office hours,” she said.
“That doesn’t count, Marley,” Braxton said.
“Don’t rain on my parade!” she said, laughing. “I’m not delusional, but I am going to see how far he will go.”
“He’s a man.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Lacey?” Braxton asked.
I shrugged at him. He knew what I meant, but I thought about our whole conversation. Braxton wanted to make his own choices, but not lose the family business in the process. He wasn’t the stereotypical man. I would be disappointed if he chose to get engaged to Shawnna after he admitted that he didn’t love her and that she was with someone else.
“I was kidding. Since when did you become tenderhearted?” I asked with a wink.
A grin spread across his face. One that I hadn’t seen the whole time we had talked. “I’m a romantic at heart,” he said with his hands over his heart.
Marley giggled at him. “Really? Braxton, you are so not romantic!”
“I am. I can prove it,” he said. That I’d like to see myself.
“I’m waiting,” she teased.
His bravado faded, then a light flickered in his eye. He stood up offering his hand to Marley. “Will you dance with me, Miss Vernon?”
“Here? Why?” she asked.
“Because, it’s romantic.” He smiled, then twiddled his fingers to join him. She reluctantly put her hand in his. He winked at me as he pulled her to her feet. With one hand at her waist and the other in her hand, he began waltzing around The Grind, maneuvering around the tables with ease. Marlow giggled like a little girl until they came to a stop beside the booth.
“Okay. That was silly, but maybe a little bit romantic,” Marley admitted.
“I’m not sure I could do any better,” he said, seeming satisfied with himself for the moment.
“Well, you can drive Lacey and me home so we don’t have to take the bus,” she suggested.
“I find that completely romantic,” I replied, then fluttered my eyelashes at him like the barista.
He rolled his eyes. “Of course, my ladies. My chariot awaits.”
We filed out of the coffee shop, and I noticed someone else had come in while we were talking. Or perhaps it was during the waltz. I wasn’t sure. He sat in the front of the shop near the windows. Looking down at his phone, he didn’t look up to watch us leave until I got to the door alone. The other two were ahead of me. He lifted his gaze to me, lowering his phone. On the screen of his phone, the symbol for air flashed.
My steps faltered, causing me to stumble out of the door. Braxton caught me before I hit the concrete sidewall.
“Whoa there! New shoes?” he asked.
I brushed it off. “Yeah, my bad. Just tripped over myself.”
“I always knew you’d fall for me,” Braxton said.
“Get over yourself, Stanwick. Not going to happen,” I quipped, looking back into the window at the man. His eyes had returned to his phone.
“I like a challenge, Ashcraft.”
“Would you two come on?” Marley called from the parking lot. It wasn’t pouring anymore, merely a light sprinkle.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, as I found my balance. “Thanks for the ride home, Brax.”
“Least I can do,” he replied.
Braxton dropped me off first, because Marley’s apartment was further away from the middle of town than the Victorian I lived in with my aunt. I waved good-bye, but Braxton called out to me as I walked up the sidewalk.
“Hey, Chantilly,” he said.
Steam came out of my ears. I hated my first name. Spinning around, I flipped him the bird. “Don’t ever call me that, Braxton Stanwick!”
He laughed, as Marley made her way into the front seat. “I’ll call you later,” he said.
“I won’t answer. Go away!” I said, then darted up the steps into the house before he could yell again. I wasn’t sure why my name made me so angry, but it did. One of those gimmicky names that parents give their children. Like Orangejello or L-a, which is apparently pronounced Ladasha. Well, maybe not that bad. But still, Lacey was my name. The rest I didn’t care about.
My phone buzzed as I entered the kitchen looking for my aunt. I looked down to see it was a text from Braxton, but I ignored it. He was driving and shouldn’t be texting.
“Well, look at you,” Aunt Clara said. Her hand and arms were covered in flour as she rolled out dough on a cutting board. She was making fresh bread which was the most heavenly thing on earth.
“Yeah, I got caught in the rain,” I said.
“Someone dropped you off?” she asked. Her eyesight had begun to fade in recent years, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing.
“Braxton Stanwick. He, Marley, and I had coffee after class,” I explained. No need to go into details about Braxton’s private life.
“Braxton is a nice boy,” she said. The crew had been here many times watching movies or just hanging out in a home as opposed to the apartments that most of them lived in. I was the only townie, which was someone who lived in town that went to the college.
“I suppose. I’m going to take a shower, then get some studying done. Do you need help with anything?” I asked.
“I’ve lived on this earth for a long time. I’m pretty sure I have everything handled,” she said.
I didn’t doubt that. Aunt Clarabelle had been all over the world, and she could tell some crazy stories. I really should write them down for her. I never knew if she might leave me, too.
“Alright. Yell upstairs if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
When I got up to my room, I plopped down on the bed and pulled out my phone.
BRAXTON: “Thanks for the talk. I have a lot to think about.”
I thought for a moment, then replied,
ME: “No problem. If you need to talk more, I’m here.”
He replied quickly.
BRAXTON: “Sorry for using your first name. I know it was your mother’s. My bad.”
I sighed. It was my mother’s name. That wasn’t why I hated it. Just felt like sometimes I was a replacement for her, when all I wanted was for her and Dad to come back.
ME: “All good.”
I tossed the phone on the bed and got up to get a shower. Rain should be cleansing, but it just made me feel icky.
Standing in the shower, I focused on the air symbol and wondered what it meant for me. I figured I’d just stumbled upon some rare ability to do stupid tricks. Like perhaps I had a future in Vegas as a magician. It was all sleight of hand or an elaborate illusion that I wasn’t sure how I’d managed it.
However, with Ajax’s visit after the other guys, there had to be more to it. And that more wasn’t good. It was very, very bad. I needed to get back to the books upstairs. Then, I had to study for a Psychology test. And start my art project, which brought me right back to thinking about the air symbol.
I hurried through the rest of my shower, so I could get things done. It was trivia night down at our favorite pub, and it looked like I wasn’t going to make it if I didn’t get moving.
With my hair wrapped in a towel, I climbed the stairs to the attic. I’d started keeping the door locked. I wasn’t worried about my aunt going in, but after the man in the alley approached me, I worried that my books would disappear.
Keeping the attic clean was difficult. The house was built in the late 1890s, and it spawned dust in supernatural ways. Not to mention, it had the constant presence of tiny spiders. I shuffled to the trunk in my house shoes and lifted the lid. On top of the pile, I kept the one book that I had been successful in using. It didn’t have a title, but when I open
ed to the first page, it hit me where I had seen the air symbol. On the darkened parchment, the air symbol sat centered on the page. How could I have missed it?
I hadn’t been looking. I didn’t know what to look for at all. Maybe I should contact Ajax. Maybe my life depended upon it.
Flipping through the pages, I saw many of the arcane symbols that Mrs. Fleming had used in art class. Each one was defined. I held up my hand, then called for my circle. The glowing set of circles and symbols appeared above my hand. I located all the symbols inside the circle inside the book. But just because I could see them there, didn’t mean I knew what they were.
It was too much to take in, so I closed the book back up in the trunk. I had homework to do, and a test tomorrow. I desperately needed to study, but I also needed a break with trivia tonight. I decided to plan my art project but finish it tomorrow. After meeting my friends, I’d study overnight.
When I got back down to my room to get ready, the smell of fresh bread wafted through the house. It was amazing and comforting. A smell of home.
I had missed several messages while I was upstairs. Isaac and Grant were asking if I was going to be at trivia. Marley sent me a selfie of her in Mr. Culpepper’s office. And a text from an unknown number.
UNKNOWN: “If the circle doesn’t work, you can text me here.”
Ajax. I saved the number in my phone with his name which seemed utterly ridiculous, but I did it. “What kind of name is Ajax?”
My phone came to life with the question.
“Are you asking about Ajax from Greek Mythology or the kitchen cleaner?” my phone asked. Crazy artificial intelligence.
Might as well give it a shot. “Greek Mythology.”
“Ajax was a Greek hero who fought in the Trojan War along with the hero, Achilles. He also fought with Odysseus. When Achilles died, Odysseus and Ajax fought over the hero’s armor. Odysseus won the argument which vexed Ajax so much that he fell on his own sword and died.”
“Well, suicide over armor hardly seems heroic. I wonder if the hooded man knows his namesake killed himself over a pile of metal.”