“Breathe!” My brain orders me, and I force my nose to inhale some much-needed air. Only then do I realize the fire within me was coming straight from my lungs. I sit there on the floor where I fell ass-first to, almost paralyzed as my eyes keep locked onto the face looming above me. The dark hair, the shape of the eyes, the shape of the nose…they are all familiar features that I did not think I would see again, not after the last time. My heart stammers in my chest as I struggle to make a connection. This is not Aiden; he is much too older and broader in his frame to be Aiden. But there is no denying the haunting similarity this man has with Coraline’s missing ex-boyfriend. “Jace!” I hear Coraline’s voice come from behind me as the crowd dissipates. A pair of shoes clatter on the ground as she makes her way towards me, and then abruptly stops as she registers the man in front of me. I hear Coraline gasp, and that is enough to break me out of my stupor. I remember where I am, and
“I regret that I was not there with you,” Gerald says after we track him down at the banquet, conversing with a group of executives from a company located in Wisconsin. He had been accosted by them to engage in conversation as they were old friends, so he could not follow us when we met Carlton Collins. I felt bad when the fond expression on his face morphed into a frown as soon as we mentioned who we met just minutes ago, “I trust that he was polite with you?”“Oh, yes, he was,” Coraline provides, “he was apologetic as well for crashing into Jace. But the fact remains, he is Aiden’s father, isn’t he?”Gerald shoots her a look of surprise, “did you not recognize him?”Coraline blushes again, “we were never introduced to one another.”Gerald nods in understanding and doesn’t ask further questions. I feel grateful for his wisdom. “I have to admit, I haven’t seen him around for a while, not since the allegations against his son came out,” Gerald states. “If I had a guess, I would s
Music thrums from within the bar as well. It’s not as loud as the beats coming from the nightclub, but racy enough for many of the patrons to gyrate against one another in the small dancing space. The bar is nearly filled up with people, mostly young ones ranging from twenty-one to maybe forty, sitting on stools and sipping various colored drinks. The bar is long, and there are about three bartenders manning a portion of it. Their moments are quick and efficient. One of them performs an elaborate routine with a cocktail shaker, spinning it in the air, shaking it according to a rhythm, occasionally opening it, and adding ingredients. The other slashes a charming grin to a gaggle of ladies at one end of the bar. This bartender is model handsome, and the pearly teethed smile makes the ladies swoon. On the other end of the bar, there is a group of frat boys taking shots, and the bartender fills small shot glasses with an amber-colored liquid.The bartenders are all dressed entirely in bla
I ask Coraline if she wants to join me in the VVIP section, because the music keeps getting louder and louder, and as the night matures, more and more people keep coming into the bar premises.But Coraline shakes her head and stands up, “No, Jace, I think I’d love to join the dance floor now,” she comments, and gives me a suggestive look, “wanna join me?”I take a glance at the packed crowd of sweaty bodies, and try not to grimace, “maybe not tonight, Coraline.”“Okay,” Coraline doesn’t try to persuade me further. She gives me a soft sort of smile, the same kind my mother used to give me when she thought I was being grumpy but in a cute way. It makes my heart pang in my chest.Coraline bounces off to the dance floor, and I look around until I find the entrance to the VVIP lounge that is situated on the second floor of the bear, probably the area with plush couches and a more private bar that I can see through the railing from even down here through the gap on the second floor. I take
Gerald stares at me from across the room as I sit on the pristine couch on top of a fluffy towel that had been spread on it so that I won’t accidentally stain it with blood.That is still steadily dripping from the various cuts on my person.Coraline sits next to me, dabbing a ball of cotton to the deepest ones on my face, specifically my forehead and cheeks. There is a small dustbin on the ground next to her, half filled with used, red-stained cotton. On her lap is a first aid kid, haphazardly put together by Gerald who’d run to the pharmacy nearest to the hotel after Coraline and I came crashing into his hotel room, her shocked and trying to support my weight while I tried to stay upright.“What the hell happened?” Gerald questions, still panting a bit from his run to the pharmacy.“A bar fight,” I answer with a wince, and Coraline tsks.“Don’t move your head,” she advises, discarding the pink-stained cotton ball and taking another from the packet in her other hand, “I just got this
“Hey, I was wondering if you had two college-aged kids, a girl and a boy stowed away in here. They got in a barfight at my workplace, and I just want to see if they got into even more trouble after I snuck them out!” A familiar voice word-vomits right in front of Gerald, who is frozen at the door, and the abject fear I felt of seeing the NYPD at the door vanishes into an exhale of relief. “Lemon!” Coraline crows and the man himself pokes his head around Gerald to give us a grin. Lemon is still in his work clothes, but his apron had been ditched, and there was a hair band keeping the scarlet strands from compromising his vision.“Hey there, you two. I was just dropping in to check if you made it back alright. I wondered if you ran into the cops or went to a hospital.”“How did you find where we are?” Gerald questions, his expression shady. He looks at Lemon with confusion marring his features. I don’t blame him; Lemon is a metaphorical human hurricane. His exuberant energy is almost
Lemon is right. The next day, the bruises become nasty, purple swellings, and everyone stares. It’s horrible and I feel like a show pony. But hey, I made this bed, so I am going to have to lie on it. People come up to me to ask what the hell happened to me, but in more polite terms, and leave me with their sympathetic remarks after I lie to them that I got mugged the night before. That is what Gerald ordered me to say because he did not want any potential clients of our company to get the wrong idea that the COO of Zelt Tech was an adrenaline junkie who went out of his way to get involved in barfights with frat boys. “Whatever you do, do not let them know that you actually hit someone else. Make yourself to be the victim, they dig things like that.” Gerald had told me, and I had stared at him because a.) he said ‘dig’ and b.) that made no sense. “I was under the impression that strength and endurance are important assets for an executing officer,” I’d pointed out, and Gerald had sco
For a moment, silence dawns. I wonder if I had heard him wrong.And then…“You graduated high school at fifteen?” Coraline questions at the same time I exclaim, “you’ve been traveling around since you were fifteen?!”“Yes, I did. But no, not really. That started later,” he chirps in answer to both the questions, “could’ve gotten out at fourteen if the teachers had let me skip another year, but noooo, they had to argue that I needed positive childhood experiences. What the hell is positive about high school, huh? The bullies? The snotty cheerleaders and too-good-for-you nerds? All those awfully stereotypes that unfortunately exist, along with teachers who could not care less! School was so boring, so I got done with it as soon as I could! Mom wanted me to go to college, and I wanted to study more too, so I did. Got a bachelor’s done, but as I was getting ready to start graduate school something happened that I absolutely refuse to talk about because of childhood trauma and whatever, so