BLIND: A Mastermind Novel (15 page)

She didn’t answer right away and he was establishing Scarlet Farrow was a woman who chose her words with careful consideration. “Excitement. Adrenaline. It wasn’t like they would’ve hurt us, but there was definitely fear of being caught, which we sort of were. It was… a rush.”

“You like being seen,
”
he provided, recalling her confession about feeling invisible.

“Sometimes. I think everyone goes through embarrassing moments they wish no one else saw.”

“Indeed. Tell me a memory when you felt embarrassed.”

The soft sound of her breath caressing the phone met his ear. “I tripped the day I interviewed at the school. I can be such a klutz at times. I’d just finished my interview with the board and packed up my portfolio. I thought everything, up until that moment, went well. As I was leaving my shoe caught on nothing at all and I went down with a bang.”

“Describe the feeling.”

“Well, there was the sensation of my knees crashing into the floor.”

“But that’s not what hurt.”

“No,
”
she said quietly.

“Tell me the emotions. Describe how they affected your body and mind.”

“My heart stopped, only for a second, but when it started again it did so with a punch strong enough to knock the wind out of me and flood my blood with adrenaline.”

“Did you shake?”

“Yes, more so in the minutes that followed.”

He’d had that sensation many times. “That’s your survival skills kicking your pain receptors into overdrive. It’s a coping mechanism our bodies reflexively trigger when the brain experiences fear.”

She laughed it off. “I don’t know why we react like that. Everyone trips from time to time—me more than most.”

He didn’t want her to minimize it. It was important they address her vulnerabilities, imperative he understand how her mind processed her shortcomings, in order to better grasp her interpretation of self. “Perhaps it isn’t about the cause, but the effect.”

“Well, yeah. I was on an interview. I was hoping to make the best impression and I ended up humiliating myself like a clod.”

“Do you blush, Ms. Farrow? I imagine with your fair skin and red hair your pigment can be quite telling of your emotions.”

“Oh, yeah. I blush, get hives when I cry, burn in the sun, it’s all part of the joys of being a redhead.”

“I find your coloring exquisite.”

Her voice turned small. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. There’s a paradoxical component to embarrassment. While there’s the reaction our body has in situations like the one you just described, there’s also similar sensations triggered by positive attention. Our physical reactions mimic those of dreaded exposure; only the shame of failing social expectation is replaced with the pleasure of meeting it. Our bodies show the same symptoms, such as blushing and accelerated heart rate, yet we process them differently.”

“Oh.”

Simplifying his point, he went on. “Blushing’s the release of hormones into the bloodstream. Adrenaline touches the nervous system, widening the capillaries touching the skin. Do you blush when you’re aroused, Ms. Farrow?”

Her laugh was soft and nervous. “I’m probably blushing now.”

He eased back on his bed, his body tightening with desire as he imagined her doing the same. “Do words relating to sex embarrass you?”

“I don’t think so. Not really.
”
Yet a nervous laugh escaped her anyway.

His hand rested on his belly, unconsciously traveling lower as he whispered, “Sometimes we aren’t fully aware of our internal reactions and the emotions that stimulate them. I imagine discussing sex does embarrass you on some level. Thus your blushing. Sex equates to exposure. Exposure equals fear, which releases adrenaline, and thereby causes the capillaries in your cheeks to dilate.” There was no denying the effect the conversation was having on him. Realizing he was on the cusp of touching himself, he redirected his hand, trapping it under his head. “Would you agree?
”

“Yes.”

He grinned. By her voice it was clear he was setting her off balance. “So the question remains, is sex something that triggers a pleasant form of embarrassment or an unpleasant one?”

“Well, I’m not frigid. I find sex pleasant.”

He noted his own physical symptoms. “Is your heart beating fast, Ms. Farrow?”

Her shallow breaths rasped against the phone. “Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you still feel invisible?”

“No.”

A grin slowly spread over his lips as his eyes closed at the small victory. He was doing this. He was actually speaking to Scarlet Farrow and—
perhaps
—arousing her. He continued to push. “Would you say you feel exposed?”

“Yes.”

“And yet we’re merely having a discussion about physiology.
”
He paused for a moment, allowing her to savor the effect of their discussion. “Pour yourself a glass of wine, Scarlet.”

She laughed. “I’ve recently given up drinking.”

“Only as a way to protect yourself from divulging too much personal information. One glass will calm you down without threatening your defenses.”

His chest swelled with satisfaction at the rustling of movement. Never had he imagined he could dictate to a woman in such a manner, yet so long as he kept his voice calm and even, she followed every command. It was intoxicating. Such an intangible implication of power seemed to satisfy a need deep inside of him he hadn’t realized he possessed. The more she filled the void, the more aware he became of the hollowness he’d learned to ignore. Suffice it to say, he liked being in control very much.

He chuckled as the pop of a cork sounded. “Assuming you still have wine in your home, I gather your vow of sobriety wasn’t intended for the long haul.”

Her laugh was a throaty melody, rich with of amusement. “I guess not. There’s that pesky discipline you mentioned.”

“Or lack thereof,
”
he teased. The soft tinkling of liquid filling a glass carried over the line. “What are you drinking?”

“Merlot.”

“Again, interesting that it was at the ready, not even needing a corkscrew from what I could hear.”

She chuckled. “My convictions are weak in the face of my love for red wine.”

He smiled, enjoying the light banter, and surprising himself when he impulsively gave into the playful teasing. “We’ll have to work on that.
”

As if suddenly realizing he was enjoying himself too much, he sobered. It was too easy to feel tenderly for her, those apparently hibernating emotions announcing themselves with an all too recognizable familiarity. But he needed to protect himself. It was time to say goodnight.

“Before I say goodnight, I want you to do something for me.
”
She didn’t object so he went on. “I want you to contemplate your desire to no longer be invisible. Truly weigh what it is you’re asking. Being seen, exposing vulnerable parts of oneself, can often provoke unprecedented emotions. Be careful what you wish for, Ms. Farrow.”

“Okay.
”
Her agreement came without pause. “I enjoyed talking with you tonight.”

“I enjoyed myself as well. I’ll call you tomorrow evening at the same time.”

He didn’t want to end their discussion, but in all his research he’d learned that the moment a romantic situation became predictable, the spell was broken. He needed to keep her guessing in order to keep her interested. “Goodnight, Ms. Farrow.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Stone.”

He disconnected the call and collapsed back on the bed releasing a long held breath. “Holy. Shit.
”
He’d done it. He’d actually talked to her and somehow managed to draw her interest. He couldn’t wait to tell the guys.

Chapter Five

Discipline

“No pain no gain, Asher. Move it.”

“I fucking hate you,
”
he hissed, oxygen pumping through his burning lungs like fire.

Steve chuckled. “You wanted this.
”
The incline of the treadmill elevated as Steve reached over and increased the speed. “No one said beauty was painless.”

Sweat burned his eyes behind his glasses as he mopped his brow with the back of his hand. His shirt drooped off his frame, saturated with perspiration. They’d been at it since six in the morning. Two hours later and he was amazed he still stood.

His legs were jelly and his fingers tingled from exertion. The day started with a warm up, thirty minutes on the elliptical. From there they hit the weight bench and worked the upper body. Asher tried not to think about what other men his age could lift. He was slowly building up his strength and endurance, personifying the quintessential hare that would win the race.

“One more mile.”

Sure, one more mile, then his mid-morning meal, a short respite, and onto laps in the pool. When he asked Steve to totally redefine his physique, he hadn’t quite considered the pain that would come with such an undertaking.

Having read numerous shapeshifter novels, his mind dwelled on the descriptions of bones snapping, ligaments popping, fluid muscles unraveling, until the body transformed into something animal. No author ever described it as painless, and he was certainly experiencing his fair share of agony.

“So,
”
Steve said, balancing an elbow at the head of the machine. “I noticed you have a lot of romance novels laying around. Is that like a thing you’re into?”

His body and mind were too tired to register embarrassment. “I’m doing some research,
”
he panted.

“That’s cool. On what?”

“Women. It’s sort of an experiment. This is all part of it.
”
Jesus, his legs were gonna fall off.

Several times he’d considered giving up, but he’d never been one to back down from what he wanted—except with Scarlet, that is, but even then he’d gone after what he desired as avidly as he knew how. Too many times in life he’d been made to feel he wasn’t good enough, and had his physical limitations thrown in his face. He was sick of it.

Growling with renewed determination, he grit his teeth and ran harder. Heat bathed his knees as he trudged on, the heavy footfalls over the racing band of the treadmill echoing through the exercise room.

Only half a mile left. Then would come the high of having pushed himself a little further and a little harder than the day before. Slowly, but surely, he was improving.

It might not seem like much to outsiders, but he could already sense a difference. The running was probably the easiest. Those damn mountain climber lunges Steve had him do yesterday, though…they were enough to drive a man insane.

Every time his trainer demanded he drop into another burpee, Asher wanted to punch the guy right in the dick. He would have, too, if Steve wasn’t three times the size of him and capable of killing him with a flick.

He was tired of being weak. It was time to be strong. Maybe not as strong as Steve, but he’d settle for an early Peter Parker post-bite build. Bruce Wayne would be his next goal. The dream was Wolverine, but he had to keep things realistic.

The pace of the treadmill chugged and slowed as his cool down started. Sweat poured out of him as he slowly caught his breath. Steve was there, handing him a bottle of water, which he demolished in seconds flat.

It turned out Steve was a decent guy. Asher was happy he hired him. He pushed him harder than anyone ever had, but when they weren’t working out and simply speaking, Steve was a nice person to talk to.

It was a strange relationship. For as in awe as he was of the other man’s physique, Steve was equally in awe of Asher’s success.

He asked lots of questions and confessed to finding Asher’s story inspirational, which gave him total confidence that Asher could successfully redefine his physical form. That helped because there were definitely moments Asher thought he was attempting the impossible.

The machine beeped. “Awesome job, Ash. Take a load off.”

Asher stumbled off the machine and collapsed on the matted floor. His chest heaved with each enormous draught of breath. Steve wiped down the machine and tossed him a towel to mop up his sweat.

“Ash?”

At the sound of company Asher mumbled gibberish. His brain was as fried as his body. “He’s down here,
”
Steve answered, laughing.

Elliot entered the gym. “Holy crap. What did you do with all your stuff?”

Lifting a hand and letting it fall weakly to the floor, he whimpered and pointed like a cadaver in the direction of the closet. Elliot frowned at him then asked Steve, “Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. He’s just being dramatic. I’m gonna go see about getting you some food. You want me to tell Carla to set it up in the dining room?
”

“Yeah.
”
It was too difficult to speak in complete sentences.

Steve left them alone and Elliot awkwardly sat on the seat of the butterfly press. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”

Asher unscrewed the new bottle of water Steve left and took a swig. Easing into a seated position he faced his friend. “I had Steve order it.”

Elliot laughed. “I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this. Seems a little extreme.”

Maybe it was, but it was also necessary. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?
”
Elliot asked.

“The looks, the sense that we don’t count as much as everyone else.”

Elliot’s face twisted with disagreement. “No. Who are we supposed to be like? Those idiots on reality TV everyone’s obsessed with? Look at the people being idolized by society, Ash. I’d rather be me.”

“You say that because you’ve never been given the opportunity to be someone else.”

“No, I say that because I don’t care what other people think. I put on a tie every day because I like to. I don’t do those things to meet some standard. I own my own company. I could come to work in footy pajamas if I wanted to.”

“Please tell me you don’t still wear footy pajamas.”

“Whatever. Your mom buys your underwear.”

“She does not!
”
He’d put a stop to that. He just hadn’t told her yet. “I have a stylist coming by this week. You and Hunter should come over, get yourself some new ties.”

“Maybe. You’re investing an awful lot into a plan that might not even get off the ground. Who says she’ll even talk to you?”

He grinned. “I do. I talked to her last night.”

Elliot’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “You did? Where? How?”

Wincing, he pushed himself off the ground. His limbs throbbed, but the pain was giving way to a pleasurable burn. “On the phone. Her number was listed on her GP profile.”

“What did she say?”

He shrugged and chucked his water bottle in the recycling. “Come eat.”

Elliot followed him out of the gym and through the house. “I don’t understand. You just called her?”

“Yup. We talked a little bit online first, but that was getting old.”

“What…what’s she like? I mean, now that she’s older.”

He peeked over his shoulder, assessing his friend. There was hope in his expression that wasn’t there two minutes ago. No matter how much he denied it, Asher knew Elliot’s life was lonely hell. There was no need to beat a dead horse. He’d raise the bar for all of them. Elliot would eventually appreciate Asher’s hard work, especially if it proved women weren’t always their kryptonite.

They were all lonely and—aside from Jet—overdue to get laid. But prior to his finding out about Scarlet, those topics were off limits, even with his closest friends. Elliot did a good job at pretending indifference, and Asher could sympathize with his fear of the opposite sex. He didn’t harp on the subject, because too much attention given to his friend’s non-existent love life could make Elliot snap.

All of their lives people had doubted their abilities. If not for having such supportive parents, none of them would have believed in themselves.

There were plenty of people in their past that swore they’d never amount to anything, but they proved them wrong and accomplished the impossible. While people accepted the world as it was and close mindedly refused to imagine anything better, he, Hunter, and Elliot invented the next best thing.

How was improving his body and health any different?

They settled in at the table where Carla, his personal chef, had laid out a spread of fruit, eggs, and protein shakes. Asher answered Elliot’s question. “She was normal, I guess. More mature, kind of vulnerable.”

“What did you talk about?”

Asher smiled, thinking back on their conversation. “School, believe it or not.”

Elliot’s eyes, again, widened. “Does she know who you are?”

“No. I told her my name’s Mr. Stone.”

“
Mr.
Stone? No first name?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t necessary.”

“Sounds a little impersonal. How did you talk about school without her figuring out who you were?”

He swallowed a bite of eggs. “I asked questions, she talked. I didn’t mention that we attended the same high school.
”
He chuckled. “Remember the beaver head in the locker room? Her and her friend stole it.”

“Seriously?”

He laughed. “Yeah, totally by accident, but yeah.”

“Man, high school must’ve been a completely different experience for people like her.”

“You aren’t kidding. She described it as fun.”

Elliot snorted. “Definitely different. You know, I heard Westerman lost his job at the steel mill.”

“Good.
”
Asher typically didn’t wish people to fall on hard times. Devon, although a foe from their past, had actually become somewhat of a friend over the years. But Bobby Westerman was different. He’d tortured every single one of them and made their lives a living hell. Not to mention he’d dated Scarlet, something he still couldn’t fathom. Every time he imagined their dates, Asher lost his appetite, so he didn’t entertain such imagery now.

As they ate, he told Elliot a bit more about his discussion the night before, but kept a good amount of personal detail out of his synopsis. For some reason, he felt the need to protect her confessions.

After brunch, Elliot left. Asher wished he could convince him to share some of the modifications he was making in his own personal life. It was work, but it was the kind of work that came with great personal rewards, things money couldn’t buy, like confidence and pride.

Maybe his friend needed to see that the physical transformation was possible first. If that were the case, Ash would gladly be the prototype. He wanted to be happy with himself, but he also wanted that same level of contentment for his friends.

Who knew? Maybe after this whole thing with Scarlet was over, he’d actually be secure enough to attempt dating someone in a traditional sense. He’d always wanted a family and children, but most of the women he met were either way out of his league or too weird for even him. Time would tell, but he certainly was experiencing the dawn of a new hope.

Cue
Star Wars
score.

****

“Tell me something from your childhood that changed you.”

Her voice was soft and he imagined her reclining on a bed or a sofa. They’d been on the phone for over an hour and Asher’s heart hadn’t slowed down once. He was quickly becoming addicted to the excitement that preceded everything she said.