Rendezvous (15 page)

Chapter 14

Tristan

Aggie has been verbally kicking my ass for the past five weeks. She’s pissed I haven’t left her and gone back to Bentley. The thing is if Bentley really is mine for keeps, then she’ll be waiting. We’ve been apart this fucking long, and I know she’d understand my need to be with Aggie. At least she would’ve had I told her. Unfortunately, I was too fucked up in the head, blaming myself for every fucking thing, to stop and let her know what was going on. So I guess, in actuality, I don’t know if Bentley would understand at all. What’s worse is all of the time I’ve been with Aggie, not once have I been able to come up with the words to explain why I left. I know it should be simple…Aggie had a stroke. Four words...easy peasy...yet I can’t bring myself to pick the fucking phone up to tell her that. What if I’m wrong? What if she took my gesture as a good-bye? I don’t know if I’m ready to face that possibility, not after all of this time.

That is the exact reason I let Aggie talk me into this ridiculous bullshit of an event. After spying on Bentley behind my back, Aggie found out she’s attending some asinine event for romance authors. I laughed at that shit, because anyone who has read one of her books knows it’s more kinky fuckery meets sadistic psychopath than sweep me off my feet damsel in distress shit. Still, I won’t lie and say I don’t want to see her but the idea of parading around in a tiny white loin cloth with big fucking feathered wings doesn’t exactly make me want to jump for joy.

Aggie asks if I’ll model the costume for her to see what it looks like. I about fucking lost my shit. I think I turned the color of a pomegranate. No way in God’s glory am I going to parade around her in something that is suitable for a porn set. Not in this fucking lifetime. She just had a stroke, and I’m not looking to give her a heart attack. We agreed to disagree on that, even after she threatens to fly out and attend the event herself. I just can’t do it. I’m sure Aggie’s seen me naked plenty of times as a kid, but the idea of her seeing me as some hyped up sex symbol that women will be ogling and pawing at doesn’t exactly sit well with me. I know it’s all just another part of the package, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.

I can already picture the look on Bentley’s face when she sees me in this shit. I know most girls will think this shit is hot, but I know her better than that. She won’t be able to look at any of us with a straight face. It’s going to kill her to try and remain professional and not let her tongue get the best of her. That will make wearing this shit worth it because watching her try to hold her shit together is always entertaining. Bentley has a gift for being quick witted and sarcastic, but she’s never been good at keeping it to herself. The only bad thing about that is payback's a bitch, and Bentley always travels with a camera.

I laugh as I pack my bag, knowing this weekend is going to be one for the history books. I called Marco a couple weeks ago. He wasn’t too happy to hear from me. I guess Bentley didn’t take my disappearing act too well, and he’s been in papa bear mode. I explained to him about Aggie—what happened and what she means to me. He was understanding enough, but still pissed that I left Bentley in the dark. I can’t exactly blame him, but I want to make it up to her.

Everything was finally feeling normal again, aside from the suffocating emptiness that has been building in me since I walked away. I want to create a new memory for her...something fresh...a new start. Valentine’s Day is the day after the book signing and Marco, the grand schemer, thinks a romantic gesture would be the best way to dig my ass out of this hole.

We have it all planned out, and I can’t help but compare those plans to the ones I had last year when I planned to propose. Though this time it will just be dinner, but we are going down to the beach behind the house where Marco will be littering it with rose petals and candles. He enlisted Maddie to cook up something special for the occasion.  My only worry is that this time she shows up.

Before leaving for the airport, Aggie hands me an ornate wooden box. When I open it, I find a string of pearls with twin diamond hearts suspending from it.

“Aggie, what is this? I can’t take these.”

“Yes, you most certainly can and you will!” she demands. “These pearls belonged to your mother. I held onto them for safe keeping. Everything else you father destroyed or gave back to your mother’s family. She would have wanted you to have them, and to give them to the one you love.”

I smile, overcome by how much love I have for this woman, and how she still manages to take me by surprise. If there was ever a girl worthy of wearing my mother’s pearls, it's Bentley. I give Aggie a kiss on the cheek before heading through security. I keep the pearls close to me during the flight, opening the box and examining them several times. They are a perfect imperfection with the natural shape and size. They are a beautiful complement for a girl exactly the same. Bentley is imperfectly perfect, and I wouldn’t want her any other way.

Bentley

It’s a week before Valentine’s Day, and I get a call from one of my most favorite people. Of course I’m hoping for good news, so when I hear Dante all choked up because his romance is headed south, I feel like shit. I’m already confirmed for my event and I can’t cancel, not that there is any way I could stomach another plane. I do, however, have the perfect solution. I send Dante a ticket to come to me. My event already has a space for a plus one and since my father bailed on me the last minute, I’m without one.

I can’t think of a better way to celebrate a shitty holiday than snickering at scantily clad men walking around looking like demented babies and eating enough chocolate to put us both into a diabetic coma. Luckily Dante thinks my idea has some promise, especially the nearly naked men, and agrees to the painstaking task of being my assistant for the day. It sounds like a dream come true. The only thing missing are the shitty chick flicks where the girl always gets the guy.

Dante is flying in tomorrow, which gives us six days to catch up and shoot the breeze. We talked for a while about his love life and how out of nowhere his beau just ended it and took off, and apparently dog-napped the puppy they adopted together. In an effort to make him forget his heartbreak, I promise a week of frivolity and drunkenness to help him forget the douche bag. I‘ve never been much of a drinker but my father has a fabulously stocked wine cellar in this house and I’m about to put that shit to good use.

I’m really pissed at Marco for talking me into this event, then bailing on me. I mean what the hell could be so important that he can’t attend? How dare he skip out on the impending fiasco of horny sex deprived women and the men of their dirtiest fantasies? We had a damn deal. If I have to suffer through the lovechild of a B rated porno and a romance convention, he has to too. So I call bullshit on him having some last minute meeting for the film production company that he still owns and runs. Either way, he’s on my shit list. If it wasn’t for Dante coming to his rescue, I might have had to kick the old man’s ass.

I drag Maddie to the store with me to stock up on any and every comfort food we can find. There will be no denying the depressed bitch living inside of me her need for fatty foods and gooey goodness. I’ve never been one to let this holiday bug me but something about it this year just has me bumming, and it’s really starting to rub me the wrong way. I figure if anyone will be able to help me kick this slump I’m in, it’s my bestie. If nothing else, we can always go shopping for slutty lingerie and clothes that bare both our ass and breasts, well my breasts anyway. Not that I’d ever actually wear them, but sitting around watching some dumb bitch get shanked in my favorite horror movie while dressing like a hooker has proven to be fun on more than one occasion. Although I’ve never succumbed to the skank couture myself, that’s Dante’s thing. He always makes me feel better, especially when he answers the door to the pizza guy dressed in that attire.

We’re laughing as I recall the stories of previous Valentine’s Days to Maddie. She can’t wait to meet Dante, and I can’t blame her. I really miss my bitch lips. We finish our grocery shopping after wiping out three different stores of all their chocolate. It’s when we’re walking past the florist that Maddie stops to look.

“I wonder what it’s like to actually get flowers,” she says with a sigh.

I look at her with a puzzled expression, thinking surely she must have gotten flowers at some point. Maddie is only a few years older than me. “Hold up,” I reply. “Are you telling me that you’ve never gotten flowers? Like ever?” I ask.

“Nope. My last boyfriend didn’t believe in gifts, and he thought holidays were just another useless day where people tried to con each other out of their hard earned money.”

“Wow! Well I can understand why you’re no longer with him. He sounds like a real winner,” I joke. “Seriously though, even from your parents? Like no one ever?”

“Nope. My parents aren’t really the sentimental type. For special occasions, they usually just give me cash.”

“I see. My parents, well my mother and Grant, never really gave a shit about me so I usually just got whatever they bought for my sister that she didn’t want. I did get flowers though. Dante always brought me wild flowers or lilies on my birthday and Valentines. That was until I told him how much I hate them,” I laughed.

“Really? You hate flowers? Or just those ones?” she questions while we load the car.

“I don’t really hate flowers per se. I hate cut flowers. They always end up dead after a week and then you throw them away. So when I was fifteen, I made him promise no more flowers. He still buys me them of course except now he buys me ones that are potted or can be planted so they don’t die.”

“Oh well, that makes sense. I guess I never really thought about them dying. I just like that idea of being special enough to someone that they would buy them in the first place.”

I feel like shit on the ride home. I have lived through some really shitty things, but I’ve always had Dante to make sure that I was remembered and to make me feel special on days that he deemed important in a woman’s life. I never realized how important a little thing like flowers is. I just always took for granted that on those two days, I would have them.

I slip away after helping put away all of the groceries and call that florist we had passed. I know from back home trying to order flowers this close to Valentine’s is hit or miss. The florists are typically sold out or don’t have shit left for a selection. I get lucky though, they have enough pink roses for a couple of arrangements and I order some to be delivered to both Mrs. Anders and Maddie. They are the only two females that will be at the house, and I’ll be damned if they are going to have a shitty day too.

I wake up this morning a lot happier than lately, especially since Dante will be here any minute. I don’t even bother changing out of my fuzzy pjs as I dart out the door and am met with a most awesome fucking surprise. Sitting in my driveway is my baby, my beloved Mustang! I may have been whining about having left it behind, and have talked about flying back to get it. Marco had blasphemously suggested I just replace it with a newer model, and I damn near chewed his head off. Most things I can accept replacing, my Mustang is not one of them! I have no idea how he got it here, and I could give a shit less. Dante and I would be driving around in all of its gloriousness, especially since the weather is mild enough that I can drop the top on it.

Pulling up to the house, Dante arrives in true diva fashion with three suitcases and a matching umbrella. Apparently it was drizzling and his drama queen ass didn’t want his perfect mane getting soggy. He hasn’t been here for more than ten minutes and he’s already demanding we go shopping for some glamorous new outfit for the signing. I don’t want to burst his bubble and tell him I’ll be wearing jeans and a tee ensemble, so I just get in the car and start driving.

“So what the fuck is going on with you and Tristan? And don’t tell me, Nothing,' sweet cheeks. I’m not fucking blind.  He didn’t keep tabs on you all of this time just so he could walk the fuck away.”

I keep my eyes on the road as I reply, “I don’t know what to tell you Dante. One minute he was here, and the next he was gone. I had to practically beat it out of Marco.”

“Hmm...I don’t know, Baby B, sounds like something is up. Isn’t there anything else your father could tell you?”

“No Dante, I asked. Hell, I fucking begged. He just disappeared. Marco said he was expecting him for Christmas but he never showed. He did leave me a gift though,” I say, while holding my wrist out to show off my bracelet.

“Damn, and you think a man just buys something like that then walks the fuck away? No way in hell. He’s got it bad; I don’t give a shit what mixed up sort of shit happened. Nobody drops that kind of money, then leaves. He’ll be back. You’ll see,” he affirms.

I don’t want to talk about this shit anymore so I change the subject as we enter the mall. We spend the next few hours in predictable fashion. I’m talked into several sexy bra and panty sets, which have never been my thing. I’m more of a grab and go kind of girl. Then we try on a million different outfits that I either refused or Dante demanded I buy. Dante thought that was fair punishment for abandoning him for almost a year. I figure I’m getting off light, so I keep my mouth shut, and go along with it.

By the time we leave the mall, I can barely walk and my hands are numb from all of the bags cutting into them. Dante is the only person I know who actually lives by the motto, 'Shop till you drop.'