The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (61 page)

Jake’s brows furrowed. For a ladies’ man, he didn’t look thrilled at the prospect. “Uh, is it too late to back out now?”

“You forfeit, you lose,” Tessa reminded him with a crooked smile.

Jake glowered at her. “I bet you’ll throw me to the wolves happily if it helps you win the wager.”

I grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “You’d best stick to one wager for now, Jake, especially when you just might lose.”

“This has all the makings of a set-up, I swear,” he grumbled, smiling resignedly and shaking his head. His hand unconsciously dropped back to press against Tessa’s back. 

Can’t take his eyes off her. Can’t keep his hands off her. There must be a song for this.

Anna smirked at him. “For someone who knows he’s being led straight to the sharks, you don’t seem to be fighting too much.”

His eyes drifted to Tessa who was still smiling, and it was probably only me, other than her, who heard him mutter under his breath, “I’m too busy fighting something else.”

We didn’t get a chance to say or do anything else because Anna pushed the door open.

The party was in full swing by the time we stepped inside, and we were early.

It was a spacious and luxurious suite with high-end furnishings and an expansive and I’m sure, expensive, view of the water. The twenty or so people already there left plenty of room for more guests.

“Hello, everyone!” Anna, whose misery had been replaced by high-octane vivacity, greeted loudly over the pop song playing throughout the room. 

Great, Anna. Not everyone can do a grand entrance like you. 

Since it was early and most people were still sober and enjoying the food, heads turned in our direction almost in unison, faces breaking into smiles as they recognized and greeted Anna. I recognized majority of the attendees as graduates from Worthington Prep. 

Their gazes went to Jake first, who was the tallest in our group, and most of them looked pleased to see him. Like Brandon, he was a recognizable face in esteemed social circles. Good looks, deep pockets, excellent connections and all that.

When their attention turned to Tessa, most of them looked puzzled at first. They probably didn’t recognize her because she didn’t look like the quiet, plain-looking younger sister Anna was usually accessorized with.

I glanced at Tessa and saw her take a deep breath, uncertainty flickering across her eyes for a moment. Jake, who was standing behind her, stepped closer, pressing her back against his solid length. His hand rested on her bare shoulder, and as if his touch were electric, the contact caused her spine to straighten and her chin to lift in confidence.

Good for you, Tess. You don’t need everyone to believe in you—just those who matter.

My momentary relief abruptly ended when the scrutinizing gaze fell on me. I stood at the edge of the group, right next to Tessa. 

I slowly met every curious stare I could, and smiled, even as some of them furrowed their brows or widened their eyes in surprise at that exact moment of recognition.

Other guests who weren’t from our high school, waved and said a loud hello at us before turning back to go on with their business, but those who were well-acquainted with us, were awkwardly struggling to form a greeting.

“To those who look like they’re suffering from temporary amnesia,” Anna finally said with a dramatic, exasperated sigh. “This is my brother’s best friend, Jake Hastings, my lovely sister, Tessa, and my awesome sister-in-law, Brandon’s wife, Charlotte.”

I shot Anna a sideways glance as people rumbled out a few abashed laughs, and greeted us with wary politeness.

I understood her motive to remind everyone that I wasn’t quite the social outcast I used to be anymore but in a way, the fact that I seemed to have risen in status farther than any of them ever expected, only put me in a different caste that was still many layers apart from everyone else.

Good intentions can be like a stray bullet sometimes. It always lands somewhere and occasionally injures, if not kills.

I would’ve preferred if she hadn’t made the grand announcement but since the milk had already been spilled and I had long learned never to cry over any of it, I broadened my smile at everyone and lightly said hello back.

Our little group broke up once we came off the doorway and joined the rest of the party. 

Anna went over to some of her old friends to catch up, a couple of guys who knew Tessa came up to her eagerly as if they’ve never seen her before, and Jake was doing his best not to growl at them.

A smile, a nod, a hi here or there, were the most I was doling out as I made my way to the massive kitchen island where the food and drinks were served. I craned my neck around to find something non-alcoholic but quickly remembered that this was Stacey Watson’s party. Who was I kidding? Not one was soul was going to leave this place as sober as a Sunday church-goer.

“Charity Charlotte,” a female voice came from behind me and I turned and found myself staring at none other than the party’s host, Stacey Watson. 

She hadn’t changed much since high school—except for the bigger implants and the even bigger platinum blond hair.

“But I guess with you being married to a Maxfield now, I can’t really call you that name anymore, can I?” she continued with a haughty smile. “Just imagine, Charlotte Samuels—charity case, cafeteria server, deadly dull assistant librarian—now Mrs. Charlotte Maxfield.”

I tried, I really did, but I had always been unapologetic before about who I was. The last name might have changed but the girl sure hasn’t.

I couldn’t help but smile at the irony. “I know, right? When I spite people, I don’t do it in half-measures.”

Stacey’s smile faltered a little as she narrowed her eyes at me. “Well, you surely have the ego to match the last name. I bet you think you’re invincible now.”

I grabbed a fruity cooler (it was the only thing with the lowest alcohol content) and twisted the cap off. “Not really. If I look like I can’t be beaten down, it’s just because I’m stubborn. Most people can’t tell the difference.”

Her brows furrowed. “But invincible and stubborn—hmm, I’m not sure I understood what you just said.”

I wondered how long that was going to last. Not very long, apparently.

“Don’t worry about it, Stace,” I told her with a smile, raising the bottle at her in the gesture of a toast. “We’ve exchanged our customary insults. Now, let’s move on and enjoy the party. Great place, by the way. Fantastic view.”

Her expression brightened at that. “I know, right? I told Daddy that the dorm just wasn’t inspiring me, you know? It blocked my intellectual juices. He got me this so my mind can be back in my Zen-zone.”

“Zen-zone?” I repeated slowly. 

She nodded earnestly. “Yes. A blank mind, you know? I was told I was naturally gifted with it. Others have to try hard to achieve it but I’m naturally born with it.”

I wrinkled my nose. “And who told you this?”

“A few people,” she said, puzzled. “This guy I was seeing for a while—he’s a med student, super smart—told me my mind was so clinically bare—no gray matter, were his exact words—that no bacteria could cling on it and thrive. It made me think of it like a Zen-zone, you know?”

I sighed and took a sip of my cooler. “This guy—med student, super smart—may have been insulting you, Stace.”

Her eyes widened incredulously. “I don’t think so! Who wants bacteria to grow in their brain? Eew! Who wants gray matter in it?”

“Someone who wants to have a modicum of intelligence,” I answered, slightly exasperated. “Gray matter is another term for brains. It also means intelligence. He was telling you that you don’t have any.”

Her mouth dropped open in offended shock. “I have more than a m-moda... modi—I have intelligence! I don’t use big words like you because they’re all so very heavy and who likes them anyway?”

Her voice was starting to rise that a few people started to glance our way. Even Jake paused from staring down Warren, one the jocks from high school who was flirting with Tessa, to give me an inquiring look.

I should’ve never opened my mouth because it was usually worse than a can of worms, but somehow, it didn’t sit well with me for Stacey to go on in life, smiling happily and accepting creatively put-together insults as compliments. It was one thing for me to admit to myself that she wasn’t all that brilliant. It was quite another to let her have people slap her face with it.

“Okay, let’s try this again, Stace,” I said as calmly as I could. “Let’s use his own words—clinically bare. Bare means empty. Bare means there’s nothing in or on it. If anyone’s using it in reference to your brain, you should feel insulted because no matter how much or little of it you have, your brain is not bare. Got it?”

She blinked several times, making no sound except a slight stuttering that reminded me of a car engine that was starting with difficulty.

I gave her time to process it, patiently waiting, until her shoulders finally relaxed. “Oh. I... Thank you, I guess.”

I smiled. “You’re welcome. Now, go mingle with your many guests. I’m sure they all want to speak with you.”

She nodded firmly and said nothing else before turning to go.

“I don’t know why you spare her feelings,” a very familiar female voice said. “She’s so dumb she needs people to tell her or she won’t even realize it.”

I glanced at Bessy, dressed to the nines in a leopard-print strapless dress. Matching it up with black high heels and super-model-like big hair, she looked stunning and scary at the same time—like a dominatrix who will spank you if you’re bad.

Knowing her tendencies to be cruel and hurtful, she probably had a whip tucked under that outfit somewhere.

I took a long swig of my drink before sighing. “And the smarter ones who think it’s fun to humiliate people are not really any better. I prefer the dumb but decent than the smart but sadistic.”

Bessy snorted. “Why am I not surprised? You’ll always champion the miserable misfits.”

I leveled her a gaze. “Don’t look down too much on everyone from your pedestal, Bess. You might fall out.”

Before anything else regrettable left my mouth, I straightened away from the kitchen island and strode off, remarkably at ease for the first time since we arrived at the party, and greeted some of the people who’d prided themselves as my tormentors in high school.

It’s sad that others fill their time with so many grand illusions of their power over other people’s lives, they eventually forget that they've lost control over their own. Because if you could choose to be loved and respected instead of hated and wished ill, why wouldn’t you?

***

While I had no expectations of fully enjoying the party, I was having a good time about three hours into it.

More people arrived—many of them new faces that weren’t part of Worthington Prep’s esteemed alumni list. 

The food was good, the music kept playing and guests kept mingling. 

There was a lot of dancing (some dirty, some dyspepsia-inducing), video game matches, a few truth-or-dare rounds (which I smartly participated in as a spectator), a series of body shots and a very entertaining performance by one of the guests who was a ‘magic hobbyist' aka someone who knew a lot of good magic tricks.

I stopped at one cooler after I dug up some sparkling cranberry juice from the fridge and kept watch of Anna who was a little attached to her alcohol tonight. I started swapping some of her cocktails with a concoction of cranberry juice and some tonic water. She was already tipsy enough that she hardly noticed the difference.

Jake checked in on us a few times, when he could tear himself away from guarding Tessa as if he were her pet lion—seemingly tamed but ready to pounce to protect his mistress at any given moment. 

Tessa, usually the level-headed and sober sister, seemed to have acquired a fondness for spirits tonight (mostly just a few glasses of wine), along with the sparkling confidence with which she charmed every one she interacted with—boys, included. Many were practically all over her but some kept a respectful distance—or a cautious one, depending on your perspective and the intensity of the threatening glare Jake leveled at you.

It secretly amazed me that despite the string of eager, attractive girls who sought Jake out, he remained keenly focused on Tessa. If he won the bet tonight, it wouldn’t be for his impressive restraint. What was there for him to restrain from when it looked like he wasn’t even in the least interested?

“She’s acting out of character,” Jake grumbled as he and I sat together on stools by the breakfast bar. We were watching Tessa chatting and laughing with Brian Harrow, who was nodding eagerly as if he were actually listening to her when in truth, his eyes were glued to her breasts which were molded by her tight, white dress. “Something’s wrong.”

I glanced at Jake’s scowling face and suppressed a smile. “She’s lowering her guard down a little bit and having some fun. I don’t think she’s ever realized before that she could shine just as brightly as her sister—or that she could shine at all.”

“What nonsense is that?” Jake scoffed, taking a gulp of his beer from the same bottle he’d been nursing all night but could hardly finish with Tessa keeping him distracted. It was probably lukewarm by now but the man was too busy seeing green.

“What nonsense is what?” I asked. 

“About Tessa shining like Anna, or shining at all,” he explained, and not-so-articulately either. He put to mind a gruff, grunting primitive man who was about to beat on his chest and whip out his wooden club.

“I think that living in Anna’s shadow hasn’t helped Tessa build her confidence,” I explained to him in a low voice. “Anna’s always been seen as the beautiful and captivating one. And because everyone said so, Tessa believed it as well. It’s easy to imagine how that could make her think that she would never measure up or be as beautiful as her sister.”

“That’s moronic,” Jake said with a snort. “Tessa’s absolutely lovely. Anna’s pretty, I agree, but Tessa has something else about her that makes her extra special.”

I bit on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, yeah?”

Jake narrowed his eyes as he studied her intently from afar. “A lot of people think she’s shy or meek but when she meets your eye, her gaze is always steady and searching, glinting with a hint of amusement that you wonder whether there’s something she sees that you have absolutely no idea about. Her smiles are slow and rare and fleeting—it’s like chasing after enchanting butterflies that are forever eluding you.”

I already knew Jake had quite a romantic streak but the sudden light in his eyes spoke of nothing less than his exact dilemma with the metaphorical butterflies—enchantment.

“And when you get close enough to see and appreciate all the intricate patterns that make her unique, she either takes a nip at you or flies away,” he continued, his eyes never once straying from the object of his fascinated observation.

I laughed softly. “I don’t think butterflies bite, Jake.”

He finally turned to me with a wry smile. “Don’t they? Because I feel a sting each time I reach out. And then the butterfly takes off and I don’t know if I’ve been poisoned somehow because my heart starts to feel tight and I have trouble breathing.”

I felt a pang of sympathy for Jake—for his helplessness as he fell hard and fast for someone he probably never expected to fall for.

I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Maybe that butterfly needs to know it’s not just the chase for you.”

Jake frowned and opened his mouth to say something but my cell phone, which was resting on top of my clutch on the breakfast bar, suddenly rang. 

B.B.B. was flashing on the call display along with a picture Brandon’s sleeping face.

My heart skipped a beat.

“It’s Brandon,” I told Jake as I snatched up my phone and clutch. “I have to take this.”

I looked around to find a quiet spot in the apartment but every nook and cranny was crammed full of people.

Rushing through the door, I stepped out, nearly colliding with a bunch of guys who were swaying unsteadily on their feet, knocking over empty beer bottles with a softball as if the short hallway were a bowling lane.

I grimaced as they erupted into rowdy cheers just as a couple of beer bottles fell back on the carpeted floor. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops showed up in less than an hour. What started out as a relaxing party had quickly turned into a frat-party nightmare. The neighbors were going to lose their freaking minds and call the cavalry.

I neatly dodged the drunks and headed for the small windowed alcove at one end of the hallway that overlooked a portion of the side street that ran along the condo complex.

The first call had already gone to voicemail after it rang a few times and I was just about to dial his number when the phone rang again.

“Hey,” I greeted softly, aware that my heart was beating rapidly.

“Hello, love,” Brandon greeted back in his warm, rich voice. 

I haven’t heard from him all day and I’d resisted calling. The most I’d done was send him a couple of short text messages telling him to take care.

I told myself he was busy with an emergency in his hands. I didn’t want to get in the way of it. In the end, it really came down to one thing.

This mystery about Nicole and Zach was like a very large elephant sitting between us and we were having trouble tiptoeing around it. I was crossing my fingers it wouldn’t heave over and crush us both under its weight.

There was a long silence before Brandon let out a weary sigh. “I miss you.”

The cautionary fence (were fences ever non-cautionary?) around my heart crumbled easily enough at his gruff yet tender admission. “I miss you too.”

“So much that you resisted calling me all day when you usually ring me a few times when I’m at work, even if just to sing me a few lines from a song you're listening to?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I grinned and pushed myself up the foot-deep ledge by the window so I could sit. “I thought you didn’t like that. You always told me it gave you last-song syndrome.”

“It does but I usually just bear it,” he answered. “If it’s a way to hear your voice, I don’t mind.”

I bit my lip as I felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry for not calling. I thought you probably didn’t want to be bothered when you’re in the middle of a crisis. How is that anyway?”

Another long, exhausted sigh. “Not bad. We only had a couple of injuries and none that are life-threatening, thank God. Just some shallow burns and a fractured leg when the employee slipped and fell while rushing from the recovery boiler. Those people are being looked after and will be fully compensated while they're off recuperating."

I smiled, relieved. “That’s good to know. How about the mill? Was the damage too great?”

“No, not really. The fire had been localized and the fire crew was able to get it under control in an hour," he said. "Once the inspection is completed tomorrow, we'll know what needs fixing. It looks worse than it really is but we should be able to get everything replaced and restored to full capacity in no time."

"When will you be back in town then?" I asked hopefully.

"In another day or so." He paused. "I want to be home right now with you, eating popcorn and watching TV. Instead, I'm sitting in the back of a car in a grimy heap."

I frowned. "It's pretty late. Are you just getting back to your hotel? Have you eaten? At all?"

He laughed softly. "You're such a mother hen, Charlotte."

I rolled my eyes even though I knew he couldn't see it. "No, just merely a wife. You better eat something when you get to your hotel, Brandon. In fact, as soon as we hang up, I'll personally call the hotel to send up some room service for you."

"Don't worry about it, I'll call them myself and get something brought up," he assured me, amusement still lingering in his voice. 

When he spoke again though, I couldn't mistake the longing in his words. "You know, tonight's the first night we're spending apart since we got married."

"I know," I said quietly, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window and glancing down the street absently. 

"I hate it," Brandon said, sighing again. "I think I'll take you with me next time. The thought of going to bed without you next to me is very unsettling."

I grinned. "Petrified that I won't be there to scare the boogeyman away?"

He laughed. "Well, there's that. He definitely can't stand being in the room listening to you snore."

"I don't snore!" I protested.

"Yes, you do," he insisted. "Just little girly snores here and there."

I sniffed in indignation. "I occasionally get a bit of a clogged respiration but that doesn't equate to snoring."

"If you say so," he said, sounding still very much unconvinced. "I know I'll miss those cute little snores when I go to bed later. How about you? Will you miss me?"

"I'll surely miss having to steal the sheets back and throw off your trunk of a leg when it clips around my thighs and cuts off my circulation."

He chuckled. "Sounds like you're going to miss me sorely, then."

I couldn't help but smile. "I will miss you but I don't even know what time I'll get to bed. By the time we're done here, it might be morning already."

"Why, where are you?" he asked. 

I glanced around just as the drunks bowling at the end of the hallway roared in victory again and started to do belly fives (you know, when guys jump in the air and bump each other's bellies like a high five). "Um, we're kind of in a party. I went with Jake and your sisters."

"Oh." His tone of voice instantly became neutral. "And where is this party?"

"Battery Wharf—very prestigious area," I hastened to reassure him just as another round of hoots and laughter erupted when one of the guys landed on his ass on the floor. It seemed that gravity had a stronger pull on his belly—you could tell by the way it was hanging out and downwards from the waistband of his jeans.

"It sounds a little rowdy for a staid society party,” Brandon remarked flatly. 

I bit my lip, curling a hand over my phone to keep the ruckus out. “Well, it’s not exactly one of those.”

His silence spoke volumes. 

“It’s a college party, okay?” I relented with an exasperated sigh. “It’s by someone your sisters and I went to high school with.”

“A college party,” Brandon repeated hollowly. “Let me guess—beer kegs, joints, girls too wasted to know who they’re going home with and guys too sloshed to be smart enough to stay out of trouble.”

I glanced at the group of drunk guys again who were now forming some kind of cheerleading pyramid in the middle of the hallway, howling loudly in laughter as they staggered off each other and fell on the floor.

“No beer kegs—just these fancy beer fountains that work like sprinklers. I haven’t seen anyone smoking a joint yet—and I have no interest in seeking them out. The girls still all seem coherent enough to be discriminating about the company they keep. The boys—well, they do seem... rambunctious, if you could call them that.”

I could hear Brandon’s sharp exhalation on the other line and I pictured him running an agitated hand down his face. “Yes, and do you know what rambunctious behavior leads to in rowdy college parties? Riots. The kind that involves police and kids getting arrested for underage drinking. For God’s sakes, Charlotte, get the hell out of there!”

I bristled at his domineering tone. “Anna needed a distraction—and so did I. We’re here but we’re not partying as hard as others are. Besides, Jake’s with us.”

“Jake? You think Jake’s going to keep you out of trouble?” Brandon asked in an incredulous tone. “He was able to drink anyone under the table since he was fourteen! He was the ringleader for all kinds of stupid things in parties that people would be horrified to remember doing the next day. Jake’s not going to think anything of it if you and my sisters are passed out flat on the floor.”