Page 5

Chapter Four

Miranda

I t’s a beautiful day for a wedding. The skies are blue, the April spring air is crispy and new. The sun shines its divine light on the church of St. Bartholomew.

The large ancient oak doors of the church open as family and friends trickle out, all with beaming faces, happy, full of joy.

The engine of the car vibrates under me, it comes to an end as my mom switches off the car. The sunlight filters through the canopy of the tree above us. It creates quiet sanctuary for a person to relax or in my case observe. My mom brought me here for me to see that I had no future in Lakeshore. To remind me that I need to make a life for my child and myself. To break the cycle as she puts it.

The small crowd begin to cheer, in the distance. With bated breath, I watch the slow reveal of the bride and the groom as they walk down the end of the isles through the door.

Pink rose petals float in the air around them, the bride’s face is the definition of joy. The groom’s smile is wide and white.

“She looks beautiful,” I mutter, my voice trembles with pain. I never envisioned myself not being in my best friend’s wedding. I always thought I would be a chief bridesmaid, that I would be the one fixing her dress, holding her flowers. Then again, I thought she was my best friend.

Her dress gave her an elegant silhouette, with tiered ruffles, cascading down to a beautiful skirt. The bodice was corseted and covered in a diamond appliqué. Her train appears to be long, the edges have trims of lace, giving that hint of vintage charm.

My heart skips a beat as I shift my gaze to the groom, everything about him to me was perfect. The way his dark hair is slicked back from his face.

The way his tailcoat jacket fitted his wide shoulders, the white of his shirt shone under the sun. His friends tap his back with congratulations. People were shaking his hand, singing his praises. He did it, he was now everything that he thought he needed to be.

Ilyana’s eyes catch mine and she smiles even brighter. She tiptoes and pulls Dereck by his neck for a kiss. He pulls her closer at the waist and bends her backward.

It’s picture perfect, the cameras around them flash, the small crowd roars with exuberance, more rose petals float around them.

A splash of water lands on my wrist, my mom pushes a handkerchief in my hand. I didn’t even realize I was crying.

I look away and wipe my face, wanting to leave, to get as far away as possible from here.

“Don’t look away, I want you to see and understand,” my mother says in a firm tone.

Lifting my head, I observe Ilyana wipes Dereck’s lips with her thumb. She stares up at him with love and a promise of forever. He looks down in adoration. See and understand, I get it. Dereck never loved me as much as I loved him. He looks happier, one day I hope to find the happiness that he has. My heart feels like it has been ripped out of my chest and thrown on the asphalt roads.

As they make a slow descent down the stairs to the white Rolls Royce, Dereck opens the car door as Ilyana waves at the crowd, she slips inside, she bends her head with a smirk as she inspects her flowers. The photographers come to the side of the car and begin taking pictures of her. Dereck waves to the crowd, he places his hand on the top of the car, and he stops. As if he senses someone is watching him, he glances around the street.

Then his gaze reaches mine, his smile drops, and he begins to move forward and I shake my head.

The crowd, still not aware of what is happening around him, begins to throw more petals at him. In that moment, the world around us stood still.

His eyes plead with mine, to stay, to commit…I give him a sad watery smile and I shake my head at him again.

Wanting to tell him that I am keeping his baby, that I will do it on my own. I close my eyes, as emotional pain rages through my body.

I open my eyes to see him hugging Gregory Wildingham, his eyes never leave mine. Nodding, I exhale, place my hand on my tummy, lift my head, throw my shoulders back and look at the road ahead.

“I’m ready, Mama,” I state, because despite the pain, despite the hurt. I have a little human to take care of, and unlike their father I promise to always be there for them.

* * *

TAREK

My little club? She sways as she walks through the dining room. Suddenly she stops and turns to me. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“It’s right there behind the brass poles. I will meet you at the valet.”

Watching her walk away sparks an idea in my head. Darting through the patrons, I dash to the podium and speak to the valet.

“Joshua, right?”

The pimpled face teenager smiles eagerly at me.

“Yes, sir.”

Placing my hand on his shoulder, I ask, “How would you like to make a quick $2000.00,”

“Oh my gosh. Yes, sir. What do I have to do?”

“I thought you would never ask. How good are you with a car’s electricals?”

Ten minutes later, I feel a light tap on my shoulder.

“You ready?” she asks.

“Yes, let’s go.”

The valet brings both of our cars to the front. He passes her the keys and smiles.

“You sure you don’t want to go with me?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and says, “You can’t have everything you want all the time Tarek.”

Nodding in agreement, I reply, “That is true.”

I close her door and lean into her window. “Buckle up and follow me.”

Saluting Joshua, I jump into my car, and I drive in front of her.

“Follow me.”

We leave the city. Right as we cross the bridge, I see her lights flicker. I choose to ignore it and chuckle.

My phone rings. “Yeah.”

“Tarek something is wrong with my car. I’m pulling to the side.” She sounds panicked. A part of me should feel a tinge of guilt. But I feel nothing but success.

“Shit ok, I’m turning around now.”

Swinging my car around, as expected I find her parked on the side of the road. What I wasn’t expecting was a rat face man beside her, a scrawny excuse for a human who looked like he’d just crawled out of a sewer to prove his uselessness.

It took seconds for me to park the car and scurry to the scene.

“You’re her man?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t bother to look in Penny’s direction. My eyes were on this balding bulbous carcass of a man. He looks like he needs new clothes and a bath. By way he smells he surely needs the latter.

“I think she has a hole in her radiator, I’m not sure.” He points down at the car as Penny shines her phone light over the engine.

“I can have a towing service out here in a few minutes. Then they can send it to my shop.” He drags his hand down an old pair of cargo shorts to wipe away the car grease.

“Thanks, but I already have someone on the way to pick up the car,” I reply as I begin to send a text out to my mechanic.

“What does a pretty boy like you know about cars? Look, lil lady, I can hitch this ride up to my car and tow it to my shop.” He wiggles his eyebrows and pouts a kiss at Penelope.

“Oh god no, Tarek.” The way she says my name tells me that she wants me to fix this now before it spirals out of control.

I step in between him and Penny, crowding his space. “You can leave.”

“Son, you don’t look like you know what dirt is. I can fix this car and show this lil lady a thing or two about being dirty.” He laughs and the smell of his breath is that of rotting eggs. His presence is stirring a hidden part of me.

I think of my knives and all the things I could do to him, the slight cuts I can make, the slow fillet, or the fact I can gut him like a fish.

“Leave and if I repeat myself, it will be to your detriment.”

The man raises his hand up and walks back to his car.

“You okay?”

She nods. “It’s so weird. I take such good care of my car.”

“Shit happens.” It doesn’t take long for my guys to come get her car.

I usher her back to my car, we settle in, and we continue our drive to the club.

“How much of a prude are you?” I ask, hoping that she is a prude so I can break her. God there is something wrong with me.

“I think I am an open-minded individual. Why do you ask?”

I rub under my chin with the back of my fingers. “People who state they are opened minded, normally have the most close-minded minds.”

She shifts in her seat. “Not everyone. Why do you ask?”

“I never told you what kind of club you are going to, did I?”

“It’s not like it’s a sex club. I am good with anything,” she replies.

I can feel her gaze on me. I remain silent as we drive deeper into the forested area of Lakeshore.

“Oh my God, it is a sex club. Of course it is.” She begins to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Because it’s so on brand for you.”

“On brand?”

“Yes, millionaire playboy chef. Of course you own a sex club. It’s only obvious, and it’s called Nowhere.”

Her laughter is contagious, but I am able to hold my laughter in. “You find the name to be dumb?”

“God, no. It’s brilliant. It reminds me of the story of Odysseus and the Cyclops.”

Giving her the side eye, I take pleasure in watching her laugh and talk.

“Tell me about Odysseus and the Cyclops and how it relates to Nowhere.”

She twists in her seat to me. “Well, Odysseus and his boys just got back from Troy, and they haven’t seen land, like, for days.”

“Troy as in Helen of Troy?”

Penelope stops and gives me a blank stare and blinks.

I chuckle to myself and clear my throat. “Continue. Sorry for the interruption.”

She exhales and continues, “Finally, they find an island. Odysseus and his twelve men begin to explore it.”

“Odysseus sounds like a colonizer,” I interject, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Interrupt me again, and you will see,” she threatens.

Her baby threat stirs my blood slowly. “What will I see, Penelope?”

“They find a cave in it, a pen of sheep. It was also filled with bread, cheese, and milk, and they begin to eat.”

There is nothing sexy about Greek mythology, but having a woman I find sexy tell me a story about it is.

“Fucking Ody has no manners,” I state.

She slaps the armrest in excitement. “None whatsoever. Anyway, Ody’s guys were like, ‘Listen, let’s take the food and some sheep and bounce.’”

I love the way she was regaling this story to me.

“Ody said, ‘Nah, let’s wait and see if the cyclops will give us a gift like a good neighbor.’”

“Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.” My intrusive thoughts are winning.

She crosses her arms over her chest. If I wasn’t driving, I would have stared at her chest but safety first. It’s fun teasing her, watching her cute face huff and pout.

“Sorry, carry on.”

“So, the cyclops comes back, and he is like, ‘Who are you? Are you here on business?’” Storytellers of old could never have been as animated and addictive as Penelope in the moment.

“Ody is like, ‘We are your guests, and if you respect Zeus, give us a gift.’”

Part of me wants to tell her that as an elective in college, I studied Greek Mythology, but I refuse to take away her joy.

“Unfortunately, the cyclops doesn’t respect Zeus. He is also the son of Poseidon. He said, ‘Nah, no gifts.’ He smashed the heads of two of Ody’s men and ate them. The rest scatter to hide.”

“Shit, that is messed up,” I reply.

She doesn’t realize that I am driving slower because I am enjoying her company and her undivided attention.

“That night, the cyclops goes to sleep. When he gets up the next day, he eats more men and goes to see about his flock.”

I just want to see her aggravated again, so I say, “There is a point to this story, yes?”

She stops talking and turns back to her regular sitting position.

“Shit, I’m sorry. No, seriously, I’m enjoying the story. Pen, please,” I plead.

She looks out of the window, and I pull to the side of the road.

“What are you doing?” she says as she looks down at the dark street.

“Tell me the story, and I will start driving. I’m really enjoying it.”

Penelope turns her face to the car window.

“I always wonder why women do that? Why do you look at the car window when you’re angry?” My intrusive thoughts get the better of me.

“Because we don’t want to see the face of the person that irritates us.”

“Okay, I get it. I won’t interrupt. I promise, I will give you $500,000 if I do.” I throw my hands up to surrender.

She laughs. “Money can’t buy you happiness.”

“That’s what poor people say. Don’t say that. Continue.”

Sighing, she continues, “Ody and his remaining men formulate a diabolical plan. That night, the cyclops comes home, and Ody charms him by giving him wine he collected from the goatskin bottles from his men.”

I continue to say nothing. All I am doing is enjoying the night, feeling at ease with an intelligent, beautiful woman at my side.

“Now the cyclops is drunk, and in his stupor, he asks Ody his name.” She pauses and looks at me.

“What’s his name?” Why am I intrigued even though I know the story?

“Ody says my name is Nobody. Then the cyclops falls asleep, and the men stab the cyclops in his eye. The cyclops brothers heard his scream and knocked on the stone door.”

We are almost there. I can see the lights of Nowhere in the distance.

“The brothers were like, ‘Bro, you okay? Who hurt you?’ The cyclops says, ‘Nobody hurt me.’ The brothers went away.”

I snicker because I see where this is going.

“Now imagine a husband is in your club and his wife called. She asks him, ‘Where are you?’ What is his reply going to be?”

We pull up to the towering iron gate and as it slides open, I reply, “I’m Nowhere.”

* * *