A Promised Fate (27 page)

“’Sup, Dude?”

“What’s up?” I felt jittery and confused. I
held back the panic.

“I thought Max was going to piss his pants
all over you up on that stage,” he laughed.

“Yeah, he was terrified. Was it that
obvious?”

“Eh, I could tell he was nervous. Poor kid.
Poor Ava. She didn't seem to be having fun.”

I leaned in on the bar and ordered a drink,
“I’m just glad it’s over.”

“I bet so. Now the real fun can start. Did
you know the drinks are free? Holy shit, it’s awesome!”

“Right, yeah. Drink up. Where’s Jules? I need
to talk with her.”

“Ladies' room.”

“You two look nice tonight.”

“Yeah?” He tugged on the lapels of his suit
jacket and smiled at my comment. “Julia picked it all out, she said
we should coordinate or something.”

“You look good. She did a nice job.”

“You look like a dork, though. Just thought
someone should tell you.” He flicked my stupid
baio
bow tie.
I untied it and shoved the silky fabric into my pocket.

My gaze was glued to the front entrance of
the lounge as I waited for Ava to appear.

“There’s my girl!” Rory smiled and held his
tumbler glass up to Julia.

“Bloody hell, Rory!” Julia laughed, “would
you slow down, you’re gonna puke on your shoes again tonight. It’s
so embarrassing when you do that.”

“Nah, I’m cool, I’m cool.”

“You’re so not cool.” She teased and he
wrapped his arm around her in a headlock and was about to give her
a noogie.

“No, no, no!” she screeched and stomped in
her heels and instead, he planted a soft kiss on her head and she
giggled at his embrace.

My fingers circled around the top of Julia’s
arm. I pulled her to me to kiss her cheek and whispered, “You look
lovely, but if you don’t tell me whatever the
fuck
it is
you're doing and how in the
fuck
you know Cameron Gallo
right
fucking
now, Julia, I promise I will kill you.”

“Shut up, Ari,” she whispered back.

“Go ahead and enjoy yourself tonight with
Rory because he deserves one night without you being a complete and
utter cheating bitch and then tomorrow, everyone is going to know
exactly what it is that you are doing and you are going to fix this
shit.”

“I’m not cheating, Ari. Now,
shut
up
.”

I released her from my grip.

“Rory, get me a drink. I’m going to our
table.”

“Sure, Babe. Hey, dudes!” August and Collin
maneuvered through the crowds to the bar and passed Julia along the
way.

“Thanks for the tickets to the show, Ari,”
Collin said, patting my back. “And the limo … that was
awesome.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.”

My gaze scanned the room for Ava.

“She left, you idiot.” August rolled his eyes
at me and I wanted to punch him.

Stewing over drink after drink, I was
obligated to fulfill my contractual duty for
baio
, stuck
saying hello to people I don't know, thanking them for coming and
then listening to them drone on about their likes and dislikes for
the new line and the upcoming
baio babe
store.

Baio
could light up in flames for all
I cared.

At midnight, my sub-par job complete, I stood
at the valet stand and waited impatiently for the limo. On the
long, lonely ride home, I grew angrier and angrier. I couldn't
believe Ava had just taken off without a word, without even a
simple goodbye. Her attitude had reached a new level of selfish and
by the time the car reached Dana Point, I was furious. My jaw
clamped so tightly with rage that the pressure caused a near
blinding tension headache. The driver wound slowly up our drive and
I jumped out before he was able to come to a complete stop.

Storming through the front door, I bounded
across the entryway and then down hall in search of her. Cold, bare
walls with nail heads poking out like miniature Greek Doric columns
reminded me of her secrets and the anger inside me bubbled and
boiled. Ava had pissed me off more than she ever had before and my
hunt for her through the house only fueled my fury.

I found her sitting in the living room,
curled up in a corner of the couch, intensely studying the iPad
that was perched on her bump.

“Tell me now!
Now
!” I yelled, ready
for a fight. I wanted a fight, I welcomed one.

She rolled her eyes.

Seething, I ripped the tablet from her hands
and tossed it across the room.

“Get up!” I spat and when she didn’t move, I
grabbed her hand and yanked her to her feet. “They had our alarm
code, Ava. Now who is it? What do they want from you?”

She pushed away from me and walked off
through the house. I followed her, my feet right on her heels and I
clamped my fingers around her wrist and flipped her around to face
me, backing her into a corner.

“Don’t ever walk away from me when I’m
talking,” I snapped through gritted teeth and that’s when she
slapped me across the cheek, not as hard as I think she could have,
but hard enough that I lost what very little remained of my
self-control. I screamed in her face. I cussed and yelled at my
pregnant wife. I demeaned and debased her with insults draped
thickly in foul language. I accused her of vicious lies and of
hiding the truth from me. I blamed her for what had happened to our
house. She pushed away from me and I grabbed her shoulders and
pinned her back, holding her hostage. Ava stood up to the plate and
fought back. Her eyes turned a deadly black and my skin crawled,
goose bumps rushed in a wave across my skin. Ava is a killer, it’s
an undeniable fact, a trait that, no matter how hard she might try
to escape it, would always remain in her blood.

With dark and ominous eyes, she locked her
fists around my wrists, forced me slowly away from her and took her
turn to threaten me. We traded insults at each other like bombs,
our living room a battlefield and verbal abuse the weapon of
choice. Our words were meant to cut deep and leave scars. No amount
of remorse would erase this night.

Her dark, relentless eyes held me at bay for
a brief moment and she turned to leave the living room. I followed
her through the house, swearing at her as she slammed door after
door in my face. When I turned to leave, she followed me, all the
while charging me with being pathetic, shallow and arrogant – and
as being the one who was keeping secrets.

We were beyond being rational. No ideas were
exchanged, no issues were resolved – the conflict only got worse.
We generated accusations but arrived at no solutions. I refused to
tell her who I was, adamantly repeating that it didn’t matter. She
denied over and over again having any knowledge about our intruder
or about who might be out there waiting for the chance to cause her
and our family harm.

The night seemed endless and at some point,
Ava’s anger bubbled over to sadness. Her shoulders slumped and her
eyes welled with tears that flowed over the brim and down her
cheeks. Her lip trembled and I saw her profound sorrow. I
recognized my own guilt and grief and the stark knowledge that I
all needed, all I wanted was her. The rest didn’t matter. “Ava…” I
went to comfort her and to find comfort for myself.

“Don't touch me,” she said quietly and turned
towards the stairs. I let her go. I watched her climb the stairs
and close herself behind the door to our bedroom. My gut churned
and the hate I felt for myself surrounded me with its dark curtain.
I sagged onto the sofa and tossed my head back and closed my eyes.
When I opened them some time later I saw the iPad I had thrown on
the chair earlier, rose from the couch and retrieved it to see what
she had been looking at when I came upon her in rage.

I unlocked the screen, and the webpage Ava
had been staring at revealed itself.
Today in
Entertainment’s
homepage was thick with coverage from the
baio
show and a great photo of the two of us that had been
taken on the red carpet was front and center. Despite the fact that
we were angry at each other all evening, we still smiled and our
eyes were warm. Our fight hadn't meant we weren’t in love. She
still looked happy in my arms.

I followed the link to Ava’s interview with
Olivia Chavez. Margaux had granted Olivia an exclusive talk with
Ava. This would be the first time the public had ever even heard
the sound of Ava’s voice. The first time that Ava would speak
publicly about anything. Olivia had been allowed five questions and
each question had been subject to my approval. We had spent days
going back and forth isolating the most appropriate, generic and
baio
specific questions -- nothing personal, nothing off
topic, and absolutely no Damien Kakos. It was understood that
Olivia would follow a strict script, compliment Ava on her dress
and ask who the designer was, congratulate Ava on the pregnancy and
then lead in to the new children’s line, thank Ava for her time and
wish her a nice evening.

At first, the interview started the way it
was supposed to.

“Olivia Chavez reporting live from the tenth
annual
baio
fashion show! I am thrilled to be talking with
the one, the only
baio
heiress, Ava Alexander. Ava you’re
stunning! I love this dress.”

“Thank you, Olivia.” Ava smiled a bright,
shining white smile.

“Not only do I love, love, love this dress,
but I am really digging your latest accessory.” She motioned to the
Ava’s cute baby belly.

“Tell us, who’s the designer?”

“Well, the dress is a
baio
, of course,
and the baby bump is an original Alexander.”

I smiled as I watched Ava’s perfect grace and
polished beauty on screen.

“Speaking of Baby Alexander, you and your
husband are expecting the birth of your second child and with this
blessing comes the launch of a new children’s line. Can you give
TIE
a comment about what we can expect from
baio
babe
?”

Ava rattled off a short, general statement
about the line. In truth, she was against the idea of
baio
babe
. She didn’t want her kids attached to the
baio
spotlight the way that she had been growing up.

Olivia nodded and her gold chandelier
earrings bobbed and danced at her shoulder line. “Your scars have
healed, your smile is bright again, Ava, you are a week away from
the one year anniversary of your kidnapping by Damien Kakos. You’ve
never spoken of your experiences -- care to shed a little light on
the week you were savagely held hostage? Can you give the viewers
of
TIE
a glimpse of the hell you went through?”

“That bitch.” I mumbled under my breath and
watched with apprehension at the two women on screen.

Ava’s eyes narrowed and her forehead
crumpled. She tried to hold on to her composure but I could see the
crack forming in her façade. Ava’s pretty lips faltered and dropped
downwards. She looked nervously over her shoulder. She was looking
for me. Her glance darted along the corridor like a scared
animal.

“Ava? The world wants to know.”

Claw her eyes out Ava.

“Um.” Ava stuttered and Olivia shoved the
microphone closer into her face.

Ava cupped the scarred and tattooed flesh on
her left wrist and she rubbed her skin anxiously with her fingers.
The brink of an anxiety attack flashed in her eyes and her mind
took her back to the dark and scary place that I had promised her
she would never have to go to again.

“I, uh, I don’t wish to comment on that.”

It’s okay, Baby. I’m so sorry.

“Give us one comment.”

Ava smacked the mic away from her face and
rushed away in a near run. I closed out of the web page and tossed
the iPad back to the end of the sofa.

That stupid interview that I made her do had
driven her from the show without saying anything to me. I couldn't
believe I had put her so carelessly in that position and I was numb
with the knowledge that I had then come home and wielded my anger
like a spear about her head.

I crept up the stairs and pushed open the
bedroom door.

She cried into a pillow, tiny whimpers choked
out from her chest.

“Ava? I don’t know where to begin … I don’t
know how to fix this. What do I do now? How do I make this right
between us?”

She didn’t answer me.

“Baby?” Warily, I nudged her shoulder with no
response.

“
Oh…
”

Ava had fallen asleep, and she was having a
nightmare -- the one that made her sad.

I stripped down to my boxers and snuck into
bed beside her. One hand was tucked away under her pillowcase and
the other was spread out protectively over her tummy. She whimpered
and her eyelids fluttered as her mind took her somewhere I didn’t
understand, somewhere that I was clueless about. With extreme
caution, I inched closer to her in bed and spread my fingers on her
stomach beside her hand. I pressed my lips on her crumpled and
messy bed head and whispered “I’m sorry,” until the gulls squawked
at dawn.

****

My mouth was stale, dry and tasteless. My
tongue, a waterless, scratchy piece of sandpaper, licked at my
cracked lips and only made the chapping skin worse by pushing
salty, old saliva into the broken flesh. The spaces behind my eyes,
over my temples, in my jaw – they all throbbed. My muscles were
tightly wound coils that begged for a release.

“Ava?” My raspy voice was with thick and
cracked harshly. I patted blindly at the limp blankets where she
should have been curled up beside me. She was gone and suddenly the
horrid images of the evening before filled my mind, the
baio
show, Cameron Gallo, the lonely ride home in the limo, my
out-of-control anger at Ava, her interview, our fight, my abusive
language. The words I threw at Ava had been vile and unforgiveable.
I hated myself.