Scarlett's Letter (Touched by a God #1) (8 page)

Hermes’ head was nodding before Hades completed his statement or even formed the question.  Kid was smart.  He knew when to pick his battles. Hades hadn’t realized that he’d lifted the kid off the ground until he had to lower his arm to completely let him go.

“Now, the car needs to be fast because I can’t drive a car that rides like I’m driving a chariot.  That shit won’t fly. I know what I want.  The Audi RS7 Coupe with red as the color of the front end, side boards and interior. Black will be the color over everything else except for the cushions of the seats.  I want those to be a metallic gray.  Everything that is metallic in the car needs to gleam like silver.  Throw in the SSC Ultimate Aero just for shits and giggles.  The Aero needs to look like that bitch was set on fire.  The color… not literally.”

Hermes laughed.  Hades shook his head because he knew that his silly ass nephew would have had the car flaming in the driveway just to be funny. After being sure to let Hermes know that he wasn’t kidding, he released him to go about doing his bidding.  He called forth a demon that he didn’t think he could completely trust, but one he was willing to take the chance on if the results were what he wanted.  He’d just made it into his office as the demon materialized.  The demon had his marching orders five minutes later. 

Hades plan was going to make him look perfect in his Rouge’s eyes.  He couldn’t wait to look into those beautiful blue eyes again.  It wouldn’t be long.  Until then, he could watch her from his looking glass.  He moved to his dining table and called up her image.  She stood before her mirror looking sexy as hell in a pair of those tight, second skin pants.  He didn’t understand the true concept other than to make the man you’re with sport a fairly noticeable boner.  The damn things accentuated every single fucking curve that she had from the waist down.  This was bull. 

He couldn’t stand around and let her go out in something that sexy.  He stopped himself. That wasn’t how she and Brock were supposed to meet and he damn well wasn’t able to show up as Hades/Aides.  It wasn’t like she would be willing to see him anyway. 
Jeggings
, that’s what the latest torture device was called.  Women wondered why men went all “cave man” on other men that were bold enough to ogle them in their presence.  Hades was standing at attention just looking at her.  He wanted to rip those things off of her, lift her up and spread her wide just watching her twist in front of the mirror. 

Hades adjusted himself before sitting down and watching her remove the equally tight ass shirt that she’d previously donned.  She slid some silken piece of fabric on, then picked up a see through shirt that had a thin piece of string to tie it together at the back.  The soft orange color of the shirt that kissed the top of her ass gave her skin a beautiful hue.  The peach in her skin looked even more edible as she adjusted the sleeves.  She began to hum to herself.  He could tell that she was excited about what she was about to do because of the humming.  She only did that when she was happily content.  Rouge bent over and he almost leapt up from the chair.  Her delectable ass looked even better in those dark blue pants.  She even had the gumption to add some six inch heels to complete the outfit she was wearing.  Her purse sat off to the side, along with a sweater or some garment that looked like a sweater. 

When she bent over again, he’d reacted the only way that he could.  He’d quickly stood up, screamed “fuck” and began to pace.  He always kept the looking glass in his peripheral. Her head whipped around like she’d heard him.  After a moment, he watched as Rouge shook her head, then turned back to her reflection. She looked too damn good.  It was like she was advertising for a suitable candidate to take his place.  She didn’t understand, but she soon would.  He would take out every man’s eyes that looked at her in any form of sexual manner. It seemed he had a little something extra to look forward to that evening.  Rouge did one last twirl, then grabbed hold to the cabinet. 

Hades was practically in the glass within seconds.  She’d caught herself.  Was she talking?  Her voice was so low that he could barely hear her. 

“I don’t give a damn who your father is.  All that matters is the mother.  You will not know a man whose base nature is to be evil.  We are going to meet with my friends, your aunts and uncles.  I need you to behave until I am able to explain things to them.”

Rouge gave herself one last glance, then proceeded to move toward the front room of her house.  Hades found himself chuckling.  She thought he was innately evil.  He would have to change that way of thinking.  He was going to be part of his child’s life.  There was no way that he’d come this far and not enjoy the benefits of his labor.  He sat back and awaited the perfect time for his meet and greet with her as his other self.  Yeah, he was going to enjoy making her see things his way.  The doorbell rang and she opened it to the one they called Qui.  He was amused by that one because of her seemingly cruel nature, but completely opposite manner.  They would get along great if he didn’t know that she was going to be one of the first to want his balls served cold and blue to a dying deer. 

He called forth a beer and a sandwich.  Hades was settling in for the evening’s entertainment.  He would get prepped for his part in a little while.  First, he wanted to watch his Rouge with her friends.  He couldn’t explain his curiosity or fascination with how she acted and reacted with others outside of her time with him.  The night ahead was about to be a bit more eventful than they anticipated.

Circle of Friends (7)

ΨΨΨΨΨΨ

Her mind: Scarlett

Excitement was now coursing through her body and the reason was because she was getting out of the house to spend some much needed quality time with her friends.  Scarlett’s crew of friends was a fairly diverse group of people.  Chelsea, Brian, Ty’Quishia, Lydia, and Ryan were her best friends.  She loved every single one of them.  They hated anyone that even attempted to hurt her.  Every one of them would definitely hate Hades with a passion that rivaled the Greeks battle with the Titans.  A person looking from the outside would probably question how the six of them came together and what they could possibly have in common. As individuals, they were completely different, but the common denominator was a six year old little girl named Renneé Tyreeika Johnson.  The six of them wouldn’t be friends if not for her. 

Renneé had a rare disease that caused her to need a new heart three years prior.  Scarlett’s brother, Kyle, the one her father called “The Bleeding Heart,” had introduced them while doing his rotation at the hospital he worked at.  Actually, the little precocious beauty, with the big, round brown eyes had introduced herself as, “Dr. R. Johnson, Child Surgeon and Psycholotrist.” That was all it took for Scarlett and her brother to melt.  They’d found out where she was supposed to be and returned her there.  Both had spoken with a nurse in the Children’s Department and found out why she was there.  The story that unfolded was enough to tear your heart to shreds. 

The family had walked away from the mother because of who she’d chosen to be with.  The father was shot and killed by a man who mistook him for another person.  The mother worked at the Post Office as a mailwoman and was cleaning bed pans at night to pay for the young girl’s hospital stay.  The last heart donor that they knew of was a match, but the surgeon from the other hospital had destroyed it by puncturing the thing.  The mother was taking no chances with the next one.  She was going to the hospital in Miami to make sure that her daughter’s heart was handled properly. 

Within the week, they’d met the mother and found out she was having a fundraiser to fund her trip.  Scarlett had agreed to be the coffee gofer for the team.  They were in an area the hospital donated and allowed them to use as a meeting room or call center. Different people in the community donated all that was needed from the phones to the chairs to the fax machine so everyone there was comfortable. There was a barista shop not far from Scarlett’s duplex that her neighbors raved about and she’d wanted to try.  The shop was where she’d met Chelsea Miller.  She was the manager of the little shop at the age of 22 and loved her job.  She also had a heart of gold.  When she heard about the reason why Scarlett was making daily coffee and donut runs for over twenty people, she’d agreed to fund three of their five trips. Her words were, “We still have to make money. It is a business after all, but I still want to donate.” The beautiful redhead with blue eyes and a smile to match her wonderful personality even began making the deliveries to the hospital herself.  The sandwiches she’d brought weekly went over well with the staff and upped the traffic at the little shop, astronomically.

The following month Ty'Quisha (Renneé’s mom), Chelsea and Scarlett were on the road to the Florida Children’s Surgical Center in Miami, Florida.  On their way there, they met Ryan Seabrook, the consummate hipster, hitchhiking his way to Miami from Georgia.  They’d felt so bad for him because he was dragging what looked like his entire life in a makeshift sled.  He told them his story as they travelled and remained with them as they went to the Surgical Center. 

While there in Miami, they were told that they’d arrived too soon or the parents weren’t ready for the plug to be pulled on their child.  It was a very confusing time for Scarlett.  Qui (pronounced key, never would have guessed that was how you said it with that spelling) was hysterical for a few moments, more like hours, until a nurse came and explained it to her.  “Put yourself in their shoes.  Could you say goodbye to your child so easily? I’m guessing not, considering you drove here from North Carolina to oversee your baby’s heart being prepared for transport,” the wise and astute nurse said to Qui. 

It was the right thing to do and say.  She immediately calmed and apologized for her outburst and hysterics.  She’d had tears sparkling in her crystal blue eyes. Qui had needed to get out of that place as quickly as possible.  The hospital was too much for her.  Her desire was for everything to just be done, finished and back on the road to her baby.  She’d seen too much of the hospital setting and was beginning to finally take its toll on her.  A release of all of her frustrations and concerns was needed.  They’d convinced her to head to the beach with them and watch the waves or the beach bums for the day.  On the beach is where they met Brian Wallace. The very same night they met Lydia who was planning on returning to the Nevada area to run her family’s restaurant,
Mirabella’s Fine Italian Eatery,
at the time.

              So, that’s how one precious little beauty brought and kept six very different individuals together. 

Each of Scarlett’s friends was unique in their appearance as well as their personality.  Ty’Quisha Johnson currently worked at a strip club as a waitress. She stands exactly five foot four inches tall.  She is 25 years old and has brown hair with amber toned highlights, blue eyes and the most perfectly tanned skin.  Qui always chews
Double Bubble
gum and wears hoop earrings with her gold necklace that has her name on it.  It is misspelled, but she still wears it.  Whenever you speak to her, you could swear you are talking to a black person and not the white female that stands before you.  She drives a pink Acura with a silver door and aluminum foil covering one side of the car. Something none of her friends understands.

Her little lady is the best of her.  It is how she always describes her.  R.J. has a pretty creamy complexion with thick springy, jet black curls that are the natural texture for her hair that falls down her back whether straight or curly.  She has light brown eyes that are bright and sparkly with already full lips that just beg for you to kiss them. Her mama says that she is already smarter than her even with her being an adult.

Chelsea Miller has vibrant, fiery red wavy hair with deep blue eyes.  Her milky skin is only blemished by the light dusting of freckles on her cheeks and nose.  Five feet six inches in stature, she tends to dress in more comfortable clothing: capris, khakis, joggers and tanks or t-shirts.  She always says it is easier when she has a busy six year old running around and she is chasing after her at the park or doing special craft projects.  She works at Club Heinous as head bartender most evenings, but didn’t stay many hours. R.J. spends so much time with Chelsea most believe that she is the girl’s mother.   She and Qui are roommates.  Qui tends to take advantage of Chelsea’s kindness.  Chelsea says she is fine with it and never does explain why, exactly.  The unspoken arrangement is Qui does most of the working and Chelsea takes care of the condo they share and R.J.  She says she understands if Qui goes out and has a bit of a life for a moment after almost losing her daughter.  No one else sees it that way.

R.J. doesn’t seem to mind.  She refers to Chelsea as her “Second Mother” and tells everyone that, “Ms. Chelsea Mama has the bestus car ever. Better even then Mama Number One.” Chelsea drives a Nissan 370Z with an orange top which bleeds into a purple body and black rims.  The youngest of four with three older brothers makes her as much of a car enthusiast as they are.  Each member of her family cried and has hearts that still hurt over the death of their beloved Paul Walker.  The
Fast and Furious
franchise was on regular rotation in every one of their homes.  Chelsea’s Daddy was part of the team that designed the cars for the actors.   Honestly, she really didn’t have to work, but she chose to live life away from her family’s money.  Beaumont Enterprises was a conglomerate of household appliance creators.  The family name carried a lot of weight and she chose to steer clear of it.  It is the reason she used her mother’s maiden name.  Her only indulgence was the car.  There is a special lot that car was parked on.  Daddy takes care of that for her.

Ryan Seabrook is 24 years old and wears his hair black in a faux hawk style with white tips at the top.  He stands at a lanky six feet two inches.  He tends to wear a lot of skinny jeans and casual cargos with flip flops.  The gauges he wears are big enough to put three fingers through.  His tribal tattoos on his arms have a fleck of green in them that match his eyes.  The hunter green is always found in one of his piercings, which are in his eyebrow, lip and nose.  He is bisexual and his motto is, “Like me to love me.  Love me to please me.  Please me and I will definitely please you.” His eyebrows would waggle every time that he’d say that.   With all of his typical sexually charged comments, one would question his character.  All you have to do is listen to one of his poems to realize that he is not only an eloquent and lyrical genius but a wonderfully, talented man. His ability to drop everything and come running whenever one of his friends or R.J. needs him made Scarlett love him all the more.  He is also a very sentimental man because he still held on to the station wagon that he inherited from his grandfather.  The thing had well over 150,000 miles on it.   He drives it with pride and puts all the money he can into fixing it, regularly. 

Brian Wallace is the self-proclaimed “token black” of their group.  He always jokes that he doesn’t know why he hangs out with them, but they all know their very own “golden boy” wouldn’t have it any other way.  At six feet five inches, 250 pounds of solid man, he is and will always be a beautiful man; drool worthy even.  His beautiful deep chocolate brown skin is marred by a cut to his left cheek (Marine football tackle gone wrong) and a few moles.  He has that big, pretty Julia Roberts type of smile, but his seems to overtake his whole face.  The clean cut look (a faded cut with a low faux hawk top) he has been sporting recently is better received by the group over the braids that he formerly wore.   His expressively bright, brown eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles.  He is also the unspoken protector

Brian had been a proud soldier of the Marine Corps until he was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. He was a Sergeant Major and had enjoyed the time he was enlisted.  The condition he now lived with had caused him to walk away from everything for a while. He was honorably discharged from the Marines.  Members of his unit would regularly stop by the ranch style house that he kept.  They would come through and hang out with Brian, then move on.  During those times, he wouldn’t be as available to hang out with them.  He would make up for it when he returned or when his “buddies” left by hosting some crazy event at his place. 

They were all told that he worked at Whole Foods Market, but no one ever saw him in the store. He always parked outside the building in the employee parking lot.  When anyone called, they were told that he was unavailable.  His big black F-250 sometimes sat there for a few days.  Scarlett had dated Brian for a couple months, but couldn’t handle the very obvious “disappearing” acts that he pulled.  He said he was there for her, but there were things that he had to tend to and he couldn’t be at her beck and call.   With that statement, he had effectively ended their relationship.  After some tense moments, they both agreed that they made better friends than boyfriend and girlfriend. 

Last, but definitely not the least important of her friends is Lydia Mirabella.  She stands five feet six inches, but in her “go to” killer fuchsia Manolo Blahnik ‘Taylor’ D’Orsay heels she is six feet and some.  Her blonde hair with pink on the ends and streaks of blue-green in the back is regularly twisted into bun or held in a high clip.  After obtaining her Masters degree in Business, she continued to manage her family’s restaurant in Nevada and the one in Florida that they just recently opened.  There is an on-site manager, but she regularly makes trips to the state to see how things were running without her.  She usually dragged one or more of them with her on the occasions that she travelled there.

Her hair is rarely ever worn with her natural color.  Her dark tresses are always colored some other color.  She tells everyone, at 27, she probably had just about every color there was for a hair color in the eight years since she began coloring it.  Her bright, cherry apple red Ferrari is her guilty pleasure as are her shoes.  She doesn’t care a thing about the mechanics of the vehicle; she just thought it was the hottest thing moving and had to have it as a graduation present to herself. 

Lydia usually got the biggest chuckle out of the reaction guys had to her.  They usually walked by drooling and falling over themselves, literally.  She purposely tortured them with her longer than Rapunzle’s hair legs as she stepped out with her high heels and cherry red lipstick.  You could always find her in a shade of red or a deep pink. Her wardrobe was filled with one or the other shade.  The short skirts were an added appeal.  Her “cutie of a bootie” which was how most described the backside that was just barely covered in the form fitting dresses she wears.  Her fair skin appeared to have color anytime she wore those colors along with one of her favorite colors, royal blue.

Scarlett’s circle of friends made her life worth living.  The six of them were there for each other whenever and wherever they were need.  If it was possible for them to get there then they would attempt to walk on water to do so.  She didn’t have the faintest idea how she was going to explain things to them.  It was something that she was going to have to deal with later.  Right then, she needed her “breakfast club”; the “peanut gallery” to let her know she was going to be okay. Their love and support was what was going to get her through this next phase of her life.  They wouldn’t be able to completely comprehend all that had transpired, but they would stand with her.  Decision time was coming and she wouldn’t make one without first explaining things to them.  The irony of it all wasn’t lost on her.  It was interesting, yet saddening that she would feel obligated to confide in her friends, but not feel as obligated to share her issue…issues with her family members.  Just when she was starting her own family, she was making sure to push the rest away.  Her friends were her family.  It was better this way. She was going to reveal all and hope for the best.  Her friends would be there, after giving her an earful first, her family wouldn’t understand or begin to comprehend something so incomprehensible.