Angels In Red

Angels

In

Red

Adelle Laudan

Dedicated to a Special

Angel watching over me.

My Mother

1930-2008

Everyone who was anyone filled the spectacular estate ballroom.  If the air of self-importance got any thicker, Jenna imagined oxygen masks dropping from the ceiling like on airplanes.  Women wore gowns by top designers, ranging from silky chiffon with plunging necklines by Gucci, to Anthony Vaccarello cut out gowns that had far more
cut out
than gown. Thousands of dollars worth of diamonds sparkled on slender fingers pinching the stems of crystal champagne flutes.

She’d bet money most of the ladies thought the birthday boy to be a ridiculously wealthy, egocentric ass.  Yet, to
not
come risked the chance of missing out on all the juicy gossip amongst the wives and girlfriends of some of the richest men around.

The man of the hour, Kenneth Blackburn the Third, spared no expense to throw his yearly, over-the-top party. With it being so close to Christmas, he insisted there would be no festive decorations, cards, or shortbread baking until the day after his celebration. He wanted nothing to detract from him being the center of attention, and everyone knew what her father wanted, he got.

Host extraordinaire stood talking to one of her least favorite people. The two men couldn’t be more different. Her father was impeccably dressed in a black tux, sporting his signature silk cravat of hand-spun gold. He wore his lush, dark hair combed back with a liberal application of pomade to keep things perfectly coiffed. Harold Meed, on the other hand, wore an ill-fitting, off the rack suit, even though he could easily afford custom made to fit his rotund shape. His shirt strained across a belly more than likely accrued from far too much drink. He wore his hair military short, making his already round face appear that much more voluminous.

“Jenna!”

She shrieked as her best friend, Buffy, grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. “Earth to Jenna. Where were you just now?”

Jenna tried to slow her racing pulse. “What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?”

Buffy cast a curious glance in the direction she’d been entranced by. “I never knew those two were that close?”
Swarovski
crystals embellished her friend’s designer ball gown, casting shimmering bursts of light whenever she moved. “What are the two of them talking about?” She smoothed down the wave of her Marilyn Monroe inspired hairdo.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’d bet anything dear old
Dad
is up to no good.”

What does he possibly have to talk about with that asshole?

Yes, Howard was invited to all social functions, but her father never paid the man much attention aside from a firm handshake and a practiced smile at the door. His stone-face made it impossible to read if his laughter was genuine, unlike Howard’s beady eyes that darkened with foreboding, belying the phony grin pasted on his plump face.

Just then, the two men raised hands in a toast and tossed back the contents of their glasses. As expected, a server appeared out of nowhere to replenish.

With new drink in hand, her father sauntered to the middle of the vacant dance floor. “If I could have your attention, I have some wonderful news to share.”

The room fell silent. As the guests moved closer to the host, she took a few steps back.

“Jenna, could you come here please?”

Damn!
Tendrils of dread slithered up her spine as the crowd parted, and she reluctantly closed the distance between them. “What’s going on?” she asked out the side of her mouth.

Harold Meed appeared at the other side of her father, flashing a devilish grin as he brazenly undressed her with his eyes. She’d never wanted to physically hurt someone as badly. He’d have a hard time ogling anyone with his eyes swollen shut.

The ignoramus had never kept
his overly-zealous obsession with her a secret. On a couple of occasions, he even went as far as to
accidentally
grab her ass in passing. Only after she threatened to call the police did he finally stop sending her gifts, asking her out to dinner or suggesting overnight jaunts to Paris.

“I’m sure my good friend, Harold Meed, needs no introduction,” her father began. “Today, he has given me the best birthday gift. Today, he has asked for my daughter’s hand in marriage.”  He glared into her eyes. “And I have given my blessing.”

“You what?” Anger set her pulse racing, and heat rushed to her face. Her quick temper, often attributed by her flaming red hair. “This is a joke, right?” Jenna gawked at her father and then at Harold Meed
. They’re actually serious
.

“Jenna, you’re making a scene. We’ll discuss this
after
the party. Got it?” He grabbed hold of her hand and held it out to Howard.

The harder she tried to pull her hand back, his grip tightened.
This can’t be really happening.
The cold slide of a gaudy diamond engagement ring on her finger made it crystal clear it wasn’t just a bad dream.

The element of surprise enabled her to break free from her father’s iron grip. She couldn’t take the ring off fast enough, all the while glaring directly into Howard’s brooding eyes.
You know where you can shove this, don’t you?
Jenna arched a brow and dropped the solitaire into his drink. The amber liquid splashed up in the very red-face of the jilted, wannabe groom.

“You
will
be mine. Your father made a deal. There is
no
turning back.” He spoke as loud as he dared. “I promise, if you don’t smile and put this ring back on, you will live to regret it.”

She tilted back her head and laughed. “It isn’t gonna happen, no way...no how, asshole.”

“Jenna!” Her father swiftly slapped her across the face. “You will not talk to our guest that way. Apologize this instant!”

Her initial shock and anger quickly turned to rage. She wanted to scream obscenities at the top of her lungs, but the unexpected slap rendered her speechless. Her burning cheek warmed beneath her fingers as she turned and raced toward the door.

You can both go to Hell.

“Whoa there, kiddo.” Charles, her father’s personal assistant and her most trusted confidant, blocked her path. “You need to calm down and quit making a scene.”

Jenna’s eyes filled with angry tears.
First my father side-lines me, and now Charles? Am I getting punked?
“Let me pass or I’ll throw a hissy fit right here and now.” She shook her head. “Like I give a shit what any of these people think of me.”

Buffy scurried to her side. “Please, Charles. Let me take her upstairs.”

He heaved a sigh and stepped to the side. “Don’t say I didn’t try when your father
deals with you
later.”

Jenna raced blindly up the grand staircase toward her suite. Buffy’s footsteps followed close behind, taking two steps to her one. An overwhelming sense of betrayal had her clutching the bodice of her hand-embroidered dress.

At the last second, she turned and made a bee-line toward her father’s wing of the house. Though she’d been forbidden in this part of the estate, which included her mother’s sitting room off the master bedroom, her father’s deception made her desperate for the closeness of her mother, even if only to sit in her chair amongst her things.

“Jenna? What are you doing? Don’t you think your father’s angry enough?”She panted. “If he finds you here, God only knows what he’ll do.”

“You saw what happened back there…do you really think I care how that monster feels?” The threat of tears prickled the backs of her eyelids as she reached the sitting room door. She paused when her gaze fell upon an array of pill bottles next to her father’s bed.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, you might want to hurry it up.”

The sense of urgency in her friend’s voice urged her forward. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Buffy huffed and stormed back to the master bedroom entrance. “Just hurry up.”

A fleeting moment of hesitation stopped Jenna from placing her hand on the crystal knob. She quickly shook the unease away and opened the door, only to freeze on the spot.