Stalemate

Stalemate

Copyright © August 2015 Dahlia Rose

Cover Art by For The Muse Designs

All rights are reserved. No part of this e-book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

“I
sa, you’re home for four weeks. You can’t sit in this apartment and just do nothing.”

Petty Officer Isa Croix sighed from her bed. Under her blankets were warm and it was the first time in months she wasn’t sleeping in the close quarters on a Navy ship. In her opinion, being able to snuggle in her bed was a perfect way to spend leave time. But when the curtains in front of the French doors of her room were thrown open to let the bright sunshine of a perfect New Orleans spring day come in, Isa could see her best friend was not going to give her that luxury. She shared the three-bedroom upstairs apartment with Tawny. No last name, just Tawny. She was a model in high demand and they’d been friends since they were children and in foster care. While Tawny found her niche in front of a camera, Isa found hers in the military. It was that or go work in a clothing store or supermarket. Isa tested in the top ten percentile of the ASVAB test when she joined the Navy. Her goal was to be an officer, and she had the grit to make it so.

She had gotten some news right before she left on leave that she hadn’t shared with her friend. But, right now, all she wanted was sleep.

“Tawny, I’ve been trained in hand-to-hand combat. Close my blinds or I will hurt you,” Isa said.

“Please, you’re a size six soaking wet. I think I can take you.” Tawny sat on the side of the bed without fear of Isa’s threat. “I wish I wasn’t leaving for this photo shoot. I haven’t seen you in like forever.”

“Tee, we talk every night via Skype when I’m on ship,” Isa said. But still, her heart lurched and she felt tears mist her eyes.

They’d only ever had each other—closer than sisters even though they didn’t share the same blood. They always teased each other about being the mailman’s child when they were teens. Both of them soon figured out that it didn’t matter who sired them as long as they had each other.

Isa knew her parents were black. She vaguely remembered her parents they day they dropped her off at foster care when she was four.  Tawny never had the luxury. She was named for her mixed heritage skin and light brown eyes. There was a point where she had been fostered out when she was a young girl. She was lost between the many children her new family had, and the fact she was a means to get a government check was soon evident. She was back in foster care in less than two years and they found themselves back together. The bond had never broken, and stood fast over the years.

“It’s not the same. I hope I don’t have to spend the entire two weeks in Greece.” She lay next to Isa.

“I may be around longer,” Isa said. She turned on her side and faced her friend.

“What are you talking about?” Tawny asked.

“I got my papers in to be based at NAS JRB New Orleans,” Isa said.

“You know I don’t know what that means.” Tawny poked her in the shoulder. ‘Speak English.”

“Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base New Orleans. My new commission is that I’d be getting to work in the JAG offices on base,” Isa explained. “Which means I would be home most nights.”

“And we could do Thursday girl’s nights again.” Tawny’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“I’d think that Miss Super Model wouldn’t have time for Thursday nights in our pajamas with a bowl of popcorn between us and a bad movie,” Isa teased.

In actuality, the idea thrilled her, to be able to sleep in her own bed and enjoy the ground under her feet instead the pitching, rolling waves of a Navy Carrier ship. She remembered how they were told as new seaman that you never really felt the ship move and it was like living on a big island in the middle of the water. They were so very wrong, and after months of fighting seasickness, she’d finally gotten somewhat accustomed.

Tawny sorted. “All these guys see me as a piece of meat—great body with nothing in the brain. When they do see I have sense, it turns them off. Who knew being smart in this business was a bad thing.”

Isa patted her arm. “You’ll find the right guy who deserves you. But right now, I’d like to find my way back to the land of dreams.”

“I’ve got an idea. You should go to the masquerade party at the Forte Mansion.” Tawny clapped her hands excitedly.  “I got the invite and, since I can’t go, you should go in my place!”

“Tawny, we don’t look alike. How in the hell am I going to pull off being you?” Isa said. Her friend was tall and statuesque while Isa stood at five-three and was kind of a pixie. She saw Tawny as a beauty and herself as just an ordinary kind of girl.

“You have to wear a mask, and hell, I’m just tall because they put me in stilts for heels,” she laughed. “Say you’ll do it and I’ll leave a dress, shoes, and everything you need in my bedroom. All you have to do is get dressed, go dance, and eat really expensive yet crappy food.”

“I don’t know, Tawny...” Isa began to say doubtfully.

“Say you’ll do it and I’ll let you sleep,” Tawny encouraged. “It’s some harmless fun and you need it, pal o’ mine. Do it, do it, do it, do it!” She began to chant getting louder each time.

Isa clapped her hands over her ears. “Fine, I’ll go okay? I will go!”

Tawny grinned and bounced off the bed. “Goodie, now I have to go finish packing. I’m thinking red for your dress—cherry red with some sweet satin black pumps.”

“Kill me, just kill me,” Isa muttered.

“Nope, you said you would, and Isa Swansea is a keeper of her word.” Tawny closed the blinds and her room was in blessed darkness again. “Get your sleep. I’ll let you know when I leave later on.”

“Okay.” Isa felt sleepiness overtake her again and snuggled deeper into her blankets.

“I’m glad you’ll be home,” her friend whispered from the door. “Love you, Isa.”

“Love you too, Tee, and I’m glad I get to be home too.”

She drifted away into slumber her and, much later when Tawny came into say goodbye, Isa only stayed awake for a few moments to wish her friend a safe journey before it was right back to sleep. The grueling pace on ship could take a toll on all the personnel, but as a woman, she had to be tougher and stronger than her counterparts.

For the next few weeks she was home until her new commission began, she planned to relearn the city she loved so much.

* * * *

“O
h this is not me, so not me,” Isa muttered again for the hundredth time as she stood outside the black sedan.

She’d taken a car service to the party, knowing her beat up blue Mazda would not be seen as something that the rich and elite drove to swanky parties. Nervousness bubbled in her stomach and she pressed her hand against her torso as she looked up at the mansion. Isa had passed it so many times when she was a kid, wishing she lived there instead of some dreary group home.  Now she was on the steps that were lined with lanterns with other women in gowns and masks heading up. The strings of lights that seemed to land everywhere made the setting even more magical in the dark night. The entire place fed the mystique and the magic of New Orleans, and she found herself falling under the spell.

“Invitation, please.”

The big, muscular man at the door held out his hand. His face was like his tone—serious. She held it out to him. He looked at it and scanned the back. She didn’t even know there was some type of invisible bar code on it and gasped when the machine beeped.

“You can’t counterfeit Mr. Forte’s invitations,” he said, and gave her a look, one that she didn’t like. She’d seen it in many people’s eyes growing up—like she was nothing.

“Since your machine beeped, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Isa said sweetly, and batted her eyelashes at him. “Big man and a little machine, such a pity.”

The meaning of her words made his eyes widen and a smile curled his lips. She swept past him with a sense of pride, one she never let people who thought she was less take from her. She’d gotten where she was by pure tenacity—Tawny as well, and that’s why even when they shared their first rinky-dink apartment, they danced on the small balcony. It was theirs. Everything inside from the used beds and the thrift store furniture was paid for from their crappy jobs.  Years had gone by and they’d made their dreams into reality. Some of hers were still to be fulfilled, but being in the Navy was the start of it.

Isa put thought of the past aside for the night. The inside of the mansion was no less breathtaking, even the furniture seemed to gleam under the lights. The baseboards along the polished floors, the winding staircase and molding were all saved from when the house was built. She’d done more than some research at the public library about the house she was now walking within.  Isa was happy to see the new owner didn’t gut the mansion of all its historic pieces.  Everyone wore masks and she accepted a glass of champagne with a smile and a small nod from behind her own disguise. Tawny had left a royal purple dress made of satin for her to wear on the bed.  It cupped tight around her breasts and hips before flowing softly down her body and ending just before her ankles. There was a slit up the side of the dress that stopped mid-thigh to give her comfortable movement. The mask was the same shade of purple, and the feathers on the crest were lilac, white, and gold. The heels weren’t like her military issued boots, but she managed to walk gracefully, remembering the lessons that Tawny had given her as they were growing up.

Isa knew no one, but still enjoyed mingling, listening to scraps of what socialites and movie stars talked about—the new three thousand dollar bag or the spa that just opened in Arizona—trivial things that made her marvel about their lives. Didn’t they see soldiers dying overseas? She took a sip of her second glass of champagne and reminded herself that nothing interested them unless it was a charity and they could get a sound bite on TV off the cause.
They’re not all bad
, she reminded herself. There were some that truly cared, but it seemed none were at the party today.

She walked out of the room and saw others milling around in the hallway as she passed. Isa walked up the stairs, looked for a bathroom, and came across what she could only call the most expensive family room she’d ever seen. The hardwood floors that had a baby grand piano to one side led to three steps that went down into a sunken-carpeted area. 
How did they manage to put a room like this on the second level of the mansion?
she thought. There was the largest TV she’d ever seen and shelves with books, puzzles, and every board game imaginable. The balcony doors were opened to the cool night and she could see the stars. She walked toward them and sighed when silence enveloped her. She put her hand against the rails of the wrought iron balcony and inhaled deeply.

“Party is downstairs.”

The masculine voice made her turn in surprise and she dropped her glass. It shattered against the tiles of the balcony floors.

“God, I am so sorry.” Isa bent to pick up the shards of glass.

He grabbed her shoulders. “No, don’t, that’s sharp. You’ll cut yourself. One glass won’t make a difference.”

“That’s Waldorf crystal. One of those glasses is worth a lot,” she replied as she stood up.

He chuckled. “I’m sure my glassware collection will survive.”

“Your glass... you’re—”

He held out his hand. “Bryce Forte, and you are?’

“Tawny,” she answered, remembering she was using her friend’s invite.

“The model, no last name, native of New Orleans.” Bryce smiled. “I’ve heard of you. Never seen your work, but I’ve heard of you.”

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing. I suspect you’d want to know who you’re inviting to a party at your house,” Isa replied.

“Anyone who’s anyone is downstairs. I’d have thought you’d be mingling,” he commented.

Isa smiled shyly. “In all honesty, it’s a lot to take in. I wasn’t going to come.”

“Why?”

“I had a book I wanted to read,” she admitted. “Strange, huh? Swanky party and I wanted to read?”

He laughed. “I find it refreshing. Come inside and sit. You’re shifting your feet, so I know your feet are aching.”

She took his hand and studied his face as they got into the light of the room.  She’d never see a man with such intense blue eyes. His dark hair was a startling contrast. He was clean-shaven, and she had the intense urge to reach up and caress his cheek.  That probably was caused by the manly scent of his aftershave and the fact that he had to be the tallest man she’d ever seen.  At five-three, they called her a waif or Smurfette when her MOS put her on a Destroyer for a year. She hoped the heels would help her look more modelesque but since model reality shows, models came in all shapes and sizes. The name stuck, and she averaged Bryce Forte had to be around six-three if not more. She liked her men large in all aspects, and he was deliciously handsome and tall.  Large in all aspects... She smiled at her own words.