Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  Fuck me. I won’t deny her. “I’ll escort you.” Stepping to the side, I motion for her to step ahead of me. “Miss Crown,” I say so I can watch her saunter away, but also to catch her if she falls.

  We move carefully around the disaster that just befell us, starting for the door. “Officer Mason, lead on.” Leaning heavily on the door ahead, Doll looks back to make sure I’m following. “Stop looking at my ass.”

  Grinning gleefully, I help China out to the awaiting masses, swearing quietly. “Fucking death of me.”

  CHINA

  When he gently wiped the mess off my face, I almost fell over. When he tried to help me clean up, I was in awe. When he knew what an Alexander McQueen original was, I was slightly confused. Officer Mason didn’t seem to be the gay type, but my gaydar could be off when I’m this drunk.

  Pushing it out of mind, traversing through the varied exhibitions, I’m reminded that my reason here tonight is more important than the puzzle of one Officer Mason.

  Escorting me, people seem disinterested in engaging me in the usual droll conversation. I have to admit, he’s scrumptious dressed up, and I’m about to hire him as the defensive lineman for my social events. I was dreading tonight with all the condolences, and for that I’ll have to give the good officer thanks. It’ll be the only thanks he’ll get, obviously, as he’ll be my enemy again soon. I doubt I’ll see him after I end up in LA County for twenty days, so I’ll graciously accept the view of his tight backside for now. Once I’m inside the slammer, he may be my dream during badly needed mental escapes.

  Fuck. I don’t look good in red, never mind jumpsuit orange.

  Entering the Grand Salon and moving toward the stage, I pause at the doorway. It’s the first time I’ve seen Dad’s car since the crash. It’s not the one from that day, but one of his that’s been on display for years. There’s no engine, but it’s still there in all its glory, sparkling and reminding me of him. Taking a deep breath, I hold it in, looking over the sleek machine. Its bright colors, and the badge that holds his name in eternity is heart-wrenching to see.

  “I c-can’t,” I stammer.

  Stopping short of entering, Officer Mason turns to me. I can feel his body heat as he stands close and bends low. His soft voice is understanding as he breathes just by my ear. “It’s the first time you’ve seen it, isn’t it?”

  Nodding slowly, I swallow back the tears. I can’t find the courage to speak.

  “Is there another person who can do this?”

  Shaking my head no, I blink back the moisture that’s fighting its way to the surface, contending with the pain that’s building inside. On the outside, I’m a sight to behold in a stained, dirty, designer dress with raspberry cream coating my legs, as my emotions fly to the surface. It makes me an even bigger target for the reporters that are waiting in the wings. Days like this are their favorite.

  “Do you want me to take you home? Do you want to leave, China?” Placing a hand on the small of my back (I love his touch), it feels like safety and warmth as I lean heavily toward it.

  So badly I want to say yes, but I promised that I would do this so that James wouldn’t have to. I have to prove I’m strong enough to follow through. “I have to,” I say, gaining strength in each word. My father and mother would tell me to push through it, and that’s what I’ll do.

  Stepping away from his hand, feeling the imprint of where it rested so casually, my skin cools. I have to do this. There’s no choice.

  Step by step, nodding at the appropriate people and smiling as I take in the leering stares, shocked looks, and accepting the obvious bad photos that will ensue, I make my way to the stage.

  Everyone takes their seats. Looking over the sea of faces, I take in those still conversing and not giving me their full attention. I didn’t create a speech, but I doubt there’s much to it.

  I hope.

  Standing at the podium, there’s a full pitcher of water and a clean glass. Pouring myself one, I guzzle it before speaking. The last thing I need is to choke because I’m parched from my overindulgence in wine.

  Tapping the mic slightly, I start. “Thank you for coming out tonight. This evening will assist in the furthering of young racers in our industry.” As soon as my voice carries, the din dies down as the remaining stragglers take their seats. “As you can tell by my dress,” I wave my hands around the outfit, “my life is still taking the mickey out of me. I think I’ll give Alexander a call to show him that panna cotta is the new design this summer.” At least the crowd laughs at my good humor.

  “We’ve worked hard this year to present as many scholarships as possible. Personally, I was lucky enough to meet with many of them during training days, watching their formal introductions to sponsors, and I’ve been in attendance on the track as they mentored the new teams over and over. Seeing someone fulfilling a dream that they thought unattainable feels good.” Looking at the faces, and finally seeing where my girls are seated, I give them a weak little grin.

  “Tonight’s ceremony wouldn’t be possible without us and without you. Open those tight ass wallets and give graciously to the cause.”

  Knowing I need to say something about the elephant in the room, I look back over at Dad’s car and decide that now is probably the only chance I’ll get. “Crown and Anchor Foundation started twenty years ago. My parents, and Jason Anchor, felt it was a good way to source new blood for the sports they loved. They felt that not all racers were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.” Saying these words strains my resolve, but I continue on.

  Clearing the tightness from my throat, I raise the half empty water glass and begin once more. “Please, raise your glass in a toast to the late Jason Anchor, as well as my parents, Jax and Marca Crown.” Raising it, I hold back the tears. “To the future endeavors of the Crown and Anchor Foundation, and its recipients.” As the same tears pull to the surface once more, I look over to the entrance where Officer Mason stands, right where I left him. Looking like a guardian, a sergeant at arms, or a Viking waiting on their lord, he watches me intently. I’m not sure what it is that draws me to him, but I feel better peering his way.

  Swallowing down the pain and accepting the ruckus applause, I start toward the stairs. The first is fine, the second marginally worse. But by the fifth stair, I’m swimming in emotions that I can’t hold together. I vaguely see Cathryne, Hallette and Harlow as they cut through the tables toward me in all their finery. Their perfectly coiffed hair and exotic looks make them look like dolls primped and prepped for a very expensive tea party.

  As I hit the final stair, tumbling toward the floor in a heap of turmoil, I’m an attraction at a sideshow for what not to do in public when the dam breaks.

  “I’ve got you, Miss Crown.” I hear him, but I’m so enveloped in the pain pouring out of me that I can’t answer. Feeling his strong, thick arms folding me into his body, pulling me tight, I can’t help but think of how good it feels. Tucking close, taking in his scent, my chest heaves from the pressure as I’m trying to catch my breath.

  I don’t care how I look or how I appear to everyone, and I honestly don’t give a fuck that he’s the cop that arrested me, as long as he can get me clear of here fast, I’m glad.

  Everything seems surreal. The crowd that was listening so intently to me moments ago, laughing along and applauding, has now started to say “Oh, that poor girl” and “That’s so sad.”

  This is what I was fearful of.

  RISEN

  Watching her on stage, commanding the attention of everyone, she is amazing. I stand in awe listening to her. Obviously, she made an off the cuff presentation, and instilling humor about her wardrobe malfunction was genius.

  Watching the patrons, sponsors, trainers, and competitors take in everything she says, China has them all enthralled in her natural grace, beauty, and poise. And even when she looked as if she’d fall apart, she’d taken it upon herself to make sure the event went off without a hitch.

  It was noticeable to anyone wit
h eyes that she was about to fall to pieces, and when she looked my way, pulling in a deep controlled breath before giving her toast, I had a feeling she was going down. Starting to make my way across the room, I pull the walkie out of my pocket. “Trevor,” I say quietly, waiting for a response. I hadn’t seen him in this part of the venue, but I knew he’d be close by.

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “I think I’m gonna be tied up for a bit. You got this with Riggs?” I’m hoping the urgency is conveyed in my voice. Passing by the tables, making my way toward the side stage, I’m rushing.

  “Sure.” Without waiting for his answer, I put the walkie back in my pocket and look up to see China on her way down the stairs. She’s just out of view with the curtain obscuring her, but I can see she’s close to tears. Picking up the pace, moving as quickly as I can without raising the attention of the reporters, I know the last thing she needs is additional bad publicity.

  Once I get to her, she’s hiccupping for air. The tears stream down in massive rivulets across her cheeks. Seeing her father’s car and toasting them in memoriam was a tipping point.

  As she reaches the final stair, her legs give out and she falls directly into my arms like a rag doll. Tucking her close, cupping her weightless frame, I shoulder her. Draping her arms around my neck, the grief flows out.

  I walk her around the side, toward the rear stage entrance. “Who are you?” Turning slightly, a tiny five-foot-nothing dressed like a supermodel eyeballs me like I’m a thief in the night.

  “I’m just here to help Miss Crown. Are you a friend of hers?” I ask as two other insanely gorgeous women appear like smoke.

  “Yes, we are. You still didn’t answer why you have our best friend in your arms,” the taller of the three women snaps. She’s a knockout. With flawless caramel skin and a scowl to make even me shudder, she glares at me.

  I shift China’s weight slightly, enjoying the warmth of her against me way too much. “I’m Officer Mason. And as you can tell by the matching fashion statement, she and I came as a foodie duo.”

  “Oh, I like this one. Humor and a set of balls. Can we keep him?” the tiny one asks, turning to the quietest of the bunch. She’s the one I fear. Easily the leader of the pack, and the one that holds all the ‘Doll is mine’ cards. Quietly surveying my intentions, she turns to the man stepping up behind her.

  “Could you hand our friend over, please? I’d feel more comfortable with her in the arms of someone I know.”

  “We can argue over who she loves more in a minute, but for now, can we get her out of the way of prying eyes?” I motion to the rear of the room where I know there’s an exit.

  “Officer, why don’t you do as the girls ask and hand over Doll.”

  Knowing a pissing match is inevitable, I don’t back down. Not with him. “Do you ladies think you can get her limo to come up to the rear?”

  “I’d like to have your limo come up the rear,” one of the girls mutter as we move down the empty hall. Ignoring her quip, even though I’m smiling inside, we start toward the double doors marked EXIT. The man in our entourage skips ahead a few steps, pushing through, holding it open for Larry, Curly, Moe, and myself. Stopping short of allowing me through, he attempts to shoulder his way through first. “Don’t think I’m happy about this,” he says all short and growly. It’s meant as a threat, but I understand it as it is. Our history clouds his judgement of my help. And I’d say he cares for her deeply because it’s written all over his face in the way he watches China.

  “Understood, Mr. Anchor,” I say in a clipped tone he knows well.

  Trellis motions for the women to pass as he holds the door back. The tiny little firecracker of a lady in the marshmallow dress ventures out first. Smiling up at me, I have the feeling she’s the dirty minded one of the crew as her eyes travel the length of me. Grinning at me like I’m a free donut at the coffee shop on cheat day, she moves along. The second, the Nubian princess, pauses partway. Harrumphing while looking me up and down, she then walks ahead too.

  The leader of their entourage stops as she approaches. “Look, I don’t know why you have Doll, and right now, I’m really grateful. But you do something wrong and I’ll have you arrested in seconds, Officer.”

  “And I believe you, miss. Can we go?”

  “By all means, lead the way.” She motions for me to advance as she checks the surrounding area. I’m assuming she’s looking for paparazzi. I know I would if my best friend was having a breakdown in the arms of a stranger.

  “Okay, big boy. Time to vacate. The car’s waiting outside,” the dark princess informs, holding the door open for the rest of us.

  We pile out to a quiet little alley near the garbage incinerator. “Careful,” the protective one calls out as she passes through, then waits at the bottom of the stairs.

  Looking so petite in my arms, it’s funny. Even though she’s falling apart, I can’t help but find the beauty in China’s sadness. The way her freckles brighten, the darkening of her thick, wet eyelashes, and the remaining smeared raspberry that clings to her face only adds to her beauty.

  “Hold on, sweetheart,” I tell China as I gingerly step down the stairs. One at a time, watching every move I make, I creep carefully. The last thing I need now is to drop her. I’m afraid of the catfight I’d have on my hands from the ‘We love Doll’ brigade, not to mention, Trellis Anchor’s ensuing threats.

  The driver of the limo, an older gentleman of obvious military background, holds the door as each of the girls step inside. Scooching across to give room for their friend, the driver asks, “Do you have her, sir?”

  “No worries. Just hold the door open, please.” Bending down, I whisper in China’s ear. “Here you go. Your friends are here. They’ll take good care of you.”

  As I set her on the seat, she hiccups air as tears stream down. She turns toward the friend closest and curls up on her lap. Trellis hops in beside them, holding her hand tightly, and I find I’m utterly jealous of him in this moment. Rising out of the car door, I touch her, for probably the last time, I rub a smudge of sauce off her cheek.

  “Thank you, Officer Mason. Don’t worry, she’s in good hands now,” Trellis clips off, rather nasty, as if we’ve never met.

  “Take care of her, yeah?” I say, staring into the eyes of her strong-willed friend.

  “China’s in the best of hands.” Looking to Trellis, she dismisses me. “Thank you.” She then closes the door.

  Stepping back to the curb, watching the driver hop in, they take off down the street. For the second time, I’ve been around for a bad day in China Crown’s life, and it’s crushed me more inside each time.

  CHINA

  I know I’m lying in the lap of someone. The body is strong. It smells of manliness, and I can feel their deep breaths. The heat that enveloped me with Officer Mason, though, has dissipated, which saddens me more than I’d like to admit. It shouldn’t affect me, but it does.

  I fell apart. I totally shattered in public and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But he was there to catch me as I fell. Why would he? Why would someone I was so rude to and tried to shame, who is the linchpin in my crazy life, want to help and be there for me? It makes no sense at all.

  “Har?” I squeak.

  “Right here, lover. Behind you.”

  Lifting my head, I turn to lay in her lap.

  “We’ve got you,” Harlow quietly tells me as she strokes my hair. “Just relax, lover.”

  “Hallee,” Cathryne says quietly. “Give me that clutch of yours. I know you always carry at least two sleeping pills. Hand ’em over.” Cathryne. Always the mother hen, caring for all of us better than our own ever have.

  Harlow sets me back a bit off her lap and places the pills in my hand. “Sweetness, here, take these. It’ll help.” Leaning back on my elbows while trying to calm the shaking breaths that wrack me, I take the pills.

  “It hurts,” I cry, full of snot and tears. I sound so weak. I’m never the weak one.

&
nbsp; “We know, honey. Sleep now.”

  Shuddering when I breathe, the intake rocks my body. You’d think the tears would have dried up by now, but they fall like Niagara Falls over the cliffs—hard and rampant. If you’d said to me that by the time I reached my twenty-first birthday that I’d lose both my parents, almost lose my closest confidant and next nearest sibling, and end up arrested because of a few stupid tickets, I’d have told you to stop smoking Hallette’s weed. Finding it hard to hate the cop that arrested me, I try to let the whole thing settle, taking in the insanity of it all.

  I’ve become really good at avoidance and not talking about the crushing void in my life. But I shouldn’t have waited so long to let it affect me. The moment that the shakes slow down and my body starts to relax, that’s when sleep takes me.

  ~~~~~~

  The sun rises through the bank of windows in my bedroom, stinging my eyes. I feel like I have the largest hangover known to man, and my chest hurts like a son of a bitch, burning like fire. Taking stock of last night’s events, I can admit to myself that it was a panic attack. My body needed to break free. I’d been sheltering the pain like a lost dog.

  Rising out of bed, the thoughtful clothing the girls put me to bed in last night is a tell-tale of how bad I was. I’m wearing a tank that my Grammie gave me after a trip to Versailles, and the ugliest, most worn pair of sweatpants I own, that they know are my favorite. Nothing makes you feel better than comfort clothes. They wanted to make sure I was zen-like when I woke.

  Am I, though? Am I relaxed? Sure, my chest hurts, and I’m not sobbing like a blithering idiot anymore, but am I better?

  Maybe.

  Be honest, Doll. No. No, you’re not.