Read Living Violet Online

Authors: Jaime Reed

Tags: #Young Adult, #Fantasy, #Romance

Living Violet (7 page)

BOOK: Living Violet
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She looked up at him. “I told you it was a hug, nothing more.”
“His hand was on your ass.”
“And I pushed him away,” Mia countered.
Knowing this argument could go on for days, I broke in. “Hey guys, we'll get back to your drama after the commercial break. Right now, I wanna ask you about boys.”
Dougie's eyes widened. “Wow, this must be serious. What's up?”
I gave him the ninety-second abridgment of the weekend's events.
Giving a studious nod, he decided. “He likes you.”
And that was it: the profound pearls of wisdom from the lips of Douglas Emerson III.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“You said he's got girls all over him. If he's taking the time to talk to you, then he wants you. And the fact that you don't drool over him is a turn-on. You're a challenge, and guys like to chase.”
I looked sideways at him. “What is he trying to catch?”
“That's something you gotta ask him.” He shrugged.
“All I'm saying is that he better not try anything. I'm not some conquest to mount on his wall, and if he tries something, I'll shove my foot so far up his—hey, Caleb! You've met my friend Mia, right?” I asked, taking the bottled water from the man in question.
Balancing a plate of fried dough, Caleb extended his hand to Mia. “I've seen her in the store a few times.”
Mia's eyes dragged up and down Caleb's body before shaking his hand.
“And this is her
boyfriend
, Doug,” I announced with an elbow to Mia's rib.
“What's up, man?” Dougie reached over and knocked fists with Caleb.
“So you guys tagging along?” Caleb asked.
“If that's okay?” I gave him my best puppy face.
“Sure, as long as I finally get on some rides. For some reason, Sam was bent on coming to Germany. Trust me, I lived in Germany for four years. I don't want to see any more of it.”
A commotion made us all turn around. Tourists made room for the park's first-aid crew steering through the crowd. Two medics yelled for onlookers to move as they carried a woman on a stretcher. When the parade passed our way, the woman stared at me under her oxygen mask, her watery eyes wide and twitchy.
My stomach lurched at the scene. She was a pretty woman, not even middle aged, yet she looked as though every breath was her last. For some reason, she decided to use that precious air supply to speak. Her runny eyes grew wide on sight of something just over my shoulder. A shaky hand clutched at her chest while the other pointed in our direction. Her mouth flapped, like a fish, and hot air fogged the plastic mask, but whatever she tried to say went unheard as the convoy drifted from view.
“Whoa, what was that about?” I turned to Caleb, whose face now bore a ghostly cast under his shades. I gave him a wide berth in case his funnel cake resurfaced.
“She probably suffered a stroke. It's hot as hell out here.” Mia wiped the sweat behind her neck to underline her point. Springing to her feet, she guided Caleb by the arm. “You ready? The Dragon Horn is just this way. You need to start off right.”
We spent the next six hours riding, laughing, and riding some more. The lines were ridiculous, but it was to be expected and well worth the wait. I must have lost fifteen pounds from the walking alone, and the ninety-degree heat index did me no favors.
We reached Italy and stopped to eat and cool off on the water rides. Caleb insisted that I stay hydrated and bought me a gallon jug of lemonade. When another woman was wheeled away by medics, I didn't argue with him.
Though Nadine flaked out on me
again
, she kept paging me every twenty minutes, demanding a play-by-play and checking if Caleb was behaving himself.
By nightfall, we were exhausted, but I wanted to walk the bridge in Italy. The lights were spectacular, and I got lost in the romance. I wasn't the only one, with Mia and Dougie making out by a lamppost.
“You look happy,” Caleb mused. “Where's my camera?”
“You got jokes. How can I not be happy? I mean, look at all these lights.”
Caleb swept his eyes across the expanse. “You sound like my mom. She was a sucker for a good view.”
“Oh yeah? Where is she now?”
“She died five years ago.”
That wasn't the answer I had expected, and Caleb seemed to have difficulty giving it.
“I'm so sorry. I didn't know.” When I touched his arm, he finally looked at me.
“Yeah, it was part of the reason I came back to the States. My dad took her death hard, and I couldn't watch him get dragged down with her.” He took a sharp intake of air and held it.
“He loved her a lot?”
He exhaled slowly. “That is the mother of all understatements.” For a moment, Caleb was no longer with me, but someplace beyond time and distance.
“How's your dad holding up?”
“Don't know. Haven't spoken to him in over a year. I've kinda distanced myself from my entire family. I don't want to get sucked back into all that strife for nothing to get solved. I love my family, but I'd rather express that love from afar.”
I searched his eyes for what he didn't say. “It's that bad?”
“Yup.”
I leaned away from him. “You don't have mob ties or a warrant for your arrest, do you?”
That made him smile, something I knew he needed right now, but it didn't make the question any less relevant. “No, Sam. I'm squeaky clean, probably the dullest guy you'll ever know.”
“I seriously doubt that.” I looked out to the water, enjoying the lights tickling its surface. “Where have you traveled around the world?”
“Everywhere. The only bad thing is I can't pick up a language to save my life. My brothers and sisters lost their American accents, but I lived in the States longer, so mine sticks no matter where I go. I can speak more German 'cause I spent more time there, but French, Spanish, and Japanese fly right over my head. Nadine's trying to teach me Polish, but I'm a lost cause.”
At the mention of Nadine, a new question arose. The issue bothered me more than it should and I hoped Caleb was more forthcoming with answers. “Did you and Nadine used to date?”
To my surprise, the thought made him shudder. “Oh God, no! Why would you ask that?”
“I see you two looking at each other and how you guys talk, but not really. It's always tense,” I began. “Did you break her heart? You didn't cheat on her, did you?”
His upper lip curled as if tasting something rancid. “No. We never dated. Our families have known each other for years, what with traveling and all that. Since I'm the baby of my family, Nadine likes to play big sis and designated cockblocker.” When he saw my puzzled look, he continued. “She thinks I'm a womanizer or something, and we all know her attitude toward men. She won't let me forget it.”
He had a point. Nadine had a way of cutting a man at the knees and even higher, should the chance arise. I shook my head, knowing that if she couldn't end Caleb's wicked ways, nothing would.
I could tell he wanted to change topics, so I asked, “Where's your favorite place to visit?”
Caleb stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Without hesitation, he said, “India. The music there is insane. Love it.”
Normally, I would have clocked a guy for invading my personal space, but the action felt appropriate for this personal moment. I may be guarded, as Caleb had proclaimed, but I wasn't dead. Feeling the heat of his body coaxed me into a peace I'd never known I lacked. The way his chin tucked within the pocket between my neck and shoulder, the light whisper of hair touching my skin, and the gentle thud of his heartbeat made my own speed up to match his pace. I nestled my head against his chest and listened to his tales of international exploits.
As the youngest of six children, Caleb received abundant coddling and hand-me-downs, something that I could tell he despised. He attended seven private schools and was expelled from three for causing unrest with the female student body. One of his teachers was suspended due to an unseemly event with him in the boys' locker room. He swore he didn't embellish these accounts and was willing to provide photographic evidence.
He excelled in track and field, soccer, and anything involving a bull's-eye. All the men in his family learned to shoot before they could ride a bike, but Caleb mastered archery and offered to show me his crossbow. Displaying a collection of medieval weapons to an already suspicious girl did not incite the best confidence, so he decided to hold off until our third date. And here I didn't even know we agreed to a
first
date.
Mr. Caleb Baker was a walking contradiction. He could shoot a target from a hundred yards, but he got squeamish around knives and avoided hand-to-hand combat at all costs. He came from a wealthy family, but he kept the lifestyle of a gypsy. He had friends all over the world, likely females in countries I never even heard of, but a heavy blanket of loneliness cloaked his body. Dude was a hard book to read, but he was definitely a page-turner.
 
By the time we parted, I felt a little better about being alone with Caleb, but I still held suspicions of his motives. He seemed interested in more than friendship, but how far was he trying to go? We said nothing on the ride back to my car. My feet were killing me, my clothes were still wet from the water rides, and I smelled like hard, sweaty fun.
When he parked his car next to mine back at Buncha Books, he reached in the glove box and pulled out a memory stick with my name written in silver marker. “You thought I forgot, didn't you?”
I couldn't argue because I had surely forgotten about it.
“Thanks, I'll let you know what I think.” I slipped his music in my bag.
He leaned over me, his eyes fixed to mine. His sudden movement scared me. The scent of powdered sugar on his breath tickled my nose. His lips parted, hovering mere centimeters over mine when a dull pop came from my door. I spun my head in time to see his hand on the latch, prying the door open.
“Drive safe,” he whispered.
I wasn't sure what to make of the entire day, or why he hadn't kissed me, or why I cared that he hadn't. But I felt him watching me as I climbed in my car, pulled out of the lot, then left the shopping center. Even throughout the short drive home, I still felt it—the deep purple of curious eyes and unknown intent. It was a hard thing to get used to, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to.
7
T
he next few days went by in a blur. Nothing exciting happened anyway.
I was so swamped at work from summer tourists that I practically had to smuggle a lunch break. But the music Caleb had given me kept me entertained to the point of distraction.
I got through the entire file in one day, and I transferred a number of tracks to my playlists. There were some weird Euro-trash techno songs that had me raising an eyebrow, but the rest was unexpectedly ...
awesome
! He owned an eclectic taste, from rock, to blues, to old-school hip-hop. I found myself humming a folk melody as I whipped through my work.
I needed to adjust my hours so I could free the weekend to watch the twins. Swallowing two mouthfuls of pride, I sought out Alicia, who alternated between the café and book floor. After a great deal of groveling on my part, she agreed to take my shifts. Today she whisked by me on her way to the magazine aisle, giving me the you-owe-me-big-time glare.
Restocking the cream and sugar bar, I went through the agenda in my head, estimating how much time was required to go home, shower, pack a bag, and head to Dad's house so I could chaperone his brood.
Just before my shift ended, a voice rang out, “What's up, Sam?”
I turned around and saw Garrett sporting a nasty shiner on his right eye. I took a step back and admired Dougie's handiwork.
The guy was about six-foot-four with wide shoulders, built solely to intimidate weaker beings. With spiky blond hair and a square jaw, Garrett Davenport was the textbook definition of a
Chad
.
Chad [chad]—noun.
A young Anglo-American male with athletic build, typically named Chad, who is very popular with the opposite sex, and usually the alpha male of a social group. Chads are often found in fraternities, tailgate parties, sporting events, and anywhere within the vicinity of a light-beer kegger. Staple attire consists of the following: baseball cap, wife-beater undershirt or T-shirt with ironic slogan, cargo shorts, and leather sandals. Prone to utter inappropriate phrases like, “What's up, bro?” or “Yo, dog.”
“Hey, Cha—I mean Garrett,” I corrected. “What up?”
Hiking his chin in greeting, he browsed around the store. “You've seen that little bitch Doug around?”
“No. I heard you two had a misunderstanding.” I tucked my lips to stave off the laugh.
He dragged his tongue over his top row of teeth and nodded. “Something like that. You tell him to stay out of my way, if he knows what's good for him.”
I gave him a firm salute. “Will do.”
“You coming to Robbie's party next Saturday?”
“Wouldn't miss it.”
Garrett looked over to the bookshelves and spotted Alicia. “Doesn't she go to our school?”
Seeing the predatory lust in his eyes, I dropped my box of straws and rounded on him with both barrels loaded. “Yeah, but the thing is,
you
don't anymore. Back off, Garrett. She's only fifteen.”
He lifted a blond eyebrow. “Your point?”
“I can sum it up in two words:
jail bait!
”
The words hit him like a bucket of cold water. “See ya on Saturday, Sam,” he mumbled and left my sight, but not without stealing another glimpse at the forbidden fruit on the book floor.
Once I finished my cleanup, I tossed off my apron and went to clock out. At customer service, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun and saw nothing but violet.
“Hey, you.” Caleb's voice carried more enthusiasm than any normal person should have while at work.
“Hey, yourself.” A smile crept through despite my efforts to keep cool.
“I listened to the music you gave me. It's good. Thanks.” He went to the opposite computer to clock in.
“Glad you like it. I like your stuff, too.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Oh yeah? You're not just saying that, are you?”
I was about to reply when an unmistakable tune rang from my bag. The man must have ESP or something, because he seemed to know when a guy was in the general area of my person. Dad sure knew how to kill a mood. He had blown up my phone all day, ensuring that I didn't back out of our agreement.
Groaning, I reached in my bag for my cell. Caleb watched with an amused look on his face. “Is that
The People's Court
theme song?”
“Yeah.”
He snorted. “As your ring tone?”
“My Dad's anyway. He's a lawyer. It's our little joke.” I groaned, digging into the dark recesses of my bag.
“Well, I gotta get back to work. I'll see you on Monday.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, then left the desk, both actions so random and awkward that I wasn't sure they had actually happened. I just stood there, probably wearing “shell shock” on my face for all to see. Shaking out of my trance, I went back to my hunt. By the time I found my phone, the music had stopped.
Passing through the main aisle toward the entrance, I saw a tall, muscular man talking to Caleb. Seeing them together made it painfully obvious they were related, but the heated subtext of the exchange reached far from loving. I wasn't prone to listening in on others' conversations, but what little I did hear sounded ominous and shady as hell.
Caleb glared up at the man, his jaw tight and fists clenched. “Don't come here again, Haden. I told you I don't want anything to do with it, and now you bring this bullshit here?”
When Caleb tried to leave, the man known as Haden spun him around. With a faint hint of an Irish brogue, he said, “You can't turn your back on this. Deny and starve yourself in this hick town all you want, but it's as much a part of you as it is me.”
Caleb swatted the hand away. “I have a new life now. It isn't much, but it's mine. If you were smart you'd stop chasing ghosts and do the same.”
“Not everyone is as cold as you are. Don't you feel the loss?
He
certainly does, and he's asking for you.”
“Good for him. I'm not going to see him, so this little trip of yours is wasted. And you better not tell him where I am—”
“He already knows,” Haden interrupted. “You can't hide from the patriarch, and no matter what, we all must return to our source.”
“You may be quick to forgive, but I'm not, and I have long-term memory. I told you what I would do if I saw him again, and I keep my word. Leave me alone. Forget you ever saw me.”
Caleb stormed away, leaving the man slumping against the bookshelf, straining for control with his eyes closed. As if he sensed being watched, his head popped up, but I scurried off before he looked in my direction.
This was none of my business. Everyone had their family problems, and Caleb was no exception. Then why did it feel different, freakishly different? I couldn't blame him for ducking out on a guy who resembled a bounty hunter, but what did Caleb do to have the angel of death track him down?
I reached the main entrance when a hand shot out to open the door for me. When I looked up to thank him, I nearly jumped out of my skin. How did he cross the store so fast?
The man's big body towered over me, leering in cynicism. His rugged features spoke of hard knocks and way too much sun. He exhibited the world-traveler appeal, and telling by the dirt on his clothes, he spent his time raiding ancient tombs for buried treasure.
His violet eyes came alive with amusement as if he reached some great revelation. “So
you're
Caleb's missing rib. Wouldn't have pictured it.”
His gruff tone made me recoil. “Excuse me? How do you know me?”
“I saw him kiss you a few moments ago. Caleb never makes the first move. He never had to, until now.” He placed a thick hand over his chest and gave a slight bow. “I'm Haden, his older brother.”
Seeing him up close, the similarity was uncanny; however, the man's wide, husky build and slick, coal-black hair threw me off. They even had the same eyes, the weird amethyst shade, but his held a mystical glow as if he wore florescent lenses.
“So are you in love with him?” he asked, but it sounded like a demand.
The question snapped me back to the present. “Whoa! That's
so
none of your business.” I passed through the open door.
“I'll take that as a yes.” Haden followed me out and teetered back from the hot gust of summer air. “I can understand if you are. The men in our family are irresistible. It's kind of a curse, actually. But I warn you, the women who love us don't have happy endings. So guard your heart. One kiss will seal your fate.”
Was he for real? How this “don't hate me because I'm beautiful” routine worked on women stood as the mystery of the ages. Waiting for cars to pass before crossing the lane, I called back, “Apparently, conceit is a hereditary trait as well.” I halted midstep and turned to him. Not sure of his reaction, I averted my gaze while confessing, “I couldn't help but overhear you talking about a patriarch. Is your father royalty or something?”
He paused to consider his answer, his expression gentle and composed. “We have a legacy, a birthright of sorts. But Caleb in his pigheadedness refuses to claim it. He's ignoring his obligations and that may cost him in the end.”
I nodded, though more questions emerged with each obscure answer, questions that I didn't have the right to ask. “I hear the family ties are strained. I'm sorry.”
He stood next to me, so close his arm brushed against my back. “So am I. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him, help him bridge the gap.”
I bristled. “Me? That's personal, and I'm not that tight with him to offer family counseling. Besides, he doesn't seem like the type to disown his family without good reason.”
“True.” He gave a lazy smile. “You're not easy to impress and you have boundaries. No wonder he wants you.”
Hefting my bag on my shoulder, I spun around to face him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Caleb won't. I told you, he's stubborn, something I reckon you two have in common. You have a wild ride ahead of you.” He flicked my name tag with his fingers. “Who knows,
Samara
, you might live to tell about it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled away, with no apparent destination in mind.
I stood still for a full minute, watching his big body dissolve into the throng of window-shoppers on the sidewalk. That graceful stride exuded carnality, danger, and all the things mothers warned their daughters about. I noticed that was one of many attributes that ran in the family.
Both brothers had those strange, luminous eyes that tricked the mind, a power that crooked its finger to invite me in. I'd come across enough players in school to know when to cut and run, but Caleb Baker operated on a whole other level of seduction. Against my better judgment, I had to know what waited on the other side. I just hoped I didn't go insane in the process.
BOOK: Living Violet
7.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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