The Unmaking (The Rayne Whitmore Series Book 1) (2 page)

            I can care less what
people think about me. It has never kept me from having friends and even when I
came out at school my sophomore year; no one ever treated me differently, at
least, not that I can remember. Hell, I think I made more friends when I came
out. I certainly had more date offers from girls and even guys. I do know that
not everyone is as lucky in that regard as I am, so I don’t take it for granted
either.

            I think one of the biggest
fears my mother has is that I’m going to start dressing and acting differently,
which has not been the case. All she clings to is her gay stereotypes. I’m a
femme who loves my femmes and I don’t see that changing. Mom has always said
that she wants what’s best for me, but by her actions, she only wants what’s
best for her and her image. I’m nineteen years old and I want to mold that image
for myself, not through her eyes. Until she understands that, we can’t be close
anymore. Besides, I’m getting ready to travel abroad for three months before I
come back and go to school. I’m sure the gap between us will be even wider if
our issues don’t get resolved soon.

            I dip my toe in the water
like I’d seen in movies. It is my ritual. Then, I dive in. The water is room
temperature and it feels amazing. Daddy had this room built just for me with
the ceiling painted with all my favorite constellations. I love to lie on my
back and simply look at my faux stars. I’m not a brat, though. We all have our
own special spaces in the house. Jasmine has her own art studio and we both
share a love for dance so we have space for that too. We have a big house; understatement
of the year, maybe. I float there a few more minutes, thankful for the
blessings we were given and vowing to have my dad build me a house similar to
this one, customized for all my needs. Spoiled, not a brat.

            The work has been put in
and it’s time for me to exit the pool. Muscles pleasantly sore, I nod to my
staff, David. He turns off the wave machine and points to where he has a towel
and bottle of water waiting for me. After I wrap the towel around myself, down
the water and start to head to my shower, I stop and turn before David shut the
lights off. David has been on staff for about two years now and I only remember
having about a handful of conversations with him. He’s average looking, average
build, and about four years older than me. I wondered how he got so lucky to
land a job here.

            “David,” I say.

            He stops what he’s doing
immediately and turns. “Yes, Ms. Whitmore?”

            Ew. I hate that. “Rayne.
It’s just Rayne.”

            He looks around, unsure.
Clearly this is someone who does not like to break the rules and I’m sure it
was my mom who instilled the cost of breaking the rules into him. “Um, yes,
Rayne?”  It comes out awkward and fearful.

            I smile at him. He’s
looking as if I am some newly discovered species. It’s pretty amusing.  “Do you
like to swim?”

            He looks longingly at the
pool and sighs. “I love swimming. I used to live in Virginia Beach and went
swimming all the time before my parents, divorced,” he bites off the last word
with a bitterness that I can’t understand. I leave it alone because it’s not my
place to comment on memories that are clearly supposed to be suppressed.

            Instead, I say, “That is a
shame to hear, and I’m deeply sorry. If it will make you feel better, I give my
permission for you to swim here once a week, but only after I’m done with my
laps, okay.”

            I don’t wait for an
answer, as I turn and walk away while adding, “I will let my mom know that you
have my permission, so don’t worry, she won’t bite your head off.”

            “Um, thank you Ms-er…
Rayne. I appreciate it,” he stammers behind me.

            “No problem David,” I call
back, waving.

            Then, it hits me. Maybe we
should have an employee day where they get to enjoy some of the luxuries of our
home since they work day in and day out but never get to be on the other side.
Even though I’m sure some of them probably sneak every once in a while and help
themselves to a massage chair or the home theater room. I’ll run it by daddy
later.

            After the shower, I check
my phone to see that I have a new text message from the beautiful Selene
Marquez.  All I can do is smile when I see the pic she sent me of a pillow with
the caption:
It’s getting a little lonely over here.

            I text her back,
As
soon as I can baby.

◊◊◊

           
I met Selene about a year ago when I
was club hopping with a few of my friends. That is one perk of having lots of
money; no one cares if you are underage as long as George and his friends are
around.

            It didn’t take long at all
for me to see her. I looked, then looked again. Then, at her ass. Hey, I liked
what I saw. Her hair was dark, a shadow that swung all around her, straight and
beautiful. She had a stunning skin tone, I could tell from where I sat. I
thought she’d probably loved to be outdoors. Her body, Lord, all I thought
about was how she had to walk around naked frequently. With a body like hers,
it’d be a crime not to. She moved as if, as if she was music itself. It was
mesmerizing.  I watched her for a while until she finally noticed me.

            Then, I smiled, made eye
contact, and walked away. Now she knew I was there and that was all I needed.
By the end of the night, I found her sitting alone by the bar. She looked out
of place there, still and peaceful, around all the noise and movement. I walked
up to her and asked, “What’s your favorite song?”

            She looked up at me
standing next to her and locked eyes with mine. I could smell her perfume as I
leaned in close to hear. She smelled wonderful, earthy, like cinnamon and
vanilla. “Why?” She asked, not too interested, but curious just the same. I
looked into her eyes and discovered that they were forest green and all I
wanted to do was keep gazing.

            “Because I’d like to dance
with you to a song that has meaning, so that neither one of us forget this
dance.” Damn, I wanted to be close to her. I had never felt that way about
someone I just met. No, it wasn’t love, but a deep intrigue. It was a pull,
gravity.

            She liked that and decided
to play along, this time, really looking at me. I could tell in her eyes she
saw something she liked. Instead, she said, “You can’t dance with me, but I’ll
tell you my favorite canción.” That’s when I caught the slight hum of an
accent. It sounded deep, ingrained into her core, one of those accents that
would never completely go away no matter how much practice she put in. I loved
it and needed to hear more from this enchanting woman.

            “Why?” I asked, now
curious.

            She stood up straighter,
her leg now touching mine and said, “Because, as beautiful as you are, I can
tell that you are too young to be in here. If I dance with you now, it would
just encourage you to come back, and I can’t promote bad behavior.”

            I looked at her, now
amused. “I bet that the real reason you don’t want to dance with me is that you
know that if you do, you’ll want to be as bad as possible.”

            She laughed at that and I
knew it was the truth.

            I continued, “I am younger
than you, I’m sure, but, one dance, or even one conversation with me will
change your mind. I promise that I have much to offer. You can’t be more than
five years older than me anyway and do you really want to miss out on something
that could be… special?”

            She leaned back and
contemplated that for a few minutes then told me, “Tell the dj to put on
something slow. You’re gonna have to work at getting to know anything about me
and I’ll be the judge of that by how you dance.”

            That night, we danced to
four songs in a row, sweating, with me fighting the urge to touch her, feel her
skin against mine. I didn’t want it to end and I refused to leave the club
without knowing her phone number. After the way we moved together, it wasn’t
hard to get it because she wanted to see me again too. A week later, my driver
was picking her up in my Aston Martin, to her surprise, and dropping her off at
my favorite restaurant.

            We continued to spend time
together, her slow to trust, me doing what I could to earn it. Months later, we
finally made it official in more ways than one. It was the best night of my
life; the way she touched me as if she had the power to pull a climax from me
just by brushing her fingertips against my skin. There was electricity there,
it had to be. I felt the shocks spread through my body as I gave her more than
I even knew I had. That night, I learned more about making love than I’m sure
even the most practiced experts knew.

            To this day, the memory of
it still makes my body quiver. Selene was so absolutely thorough and sure of
herself that even the confidence that I normally give off in waves was waning.
I had trembled under her and all I wanted to do was make her feel half of what
I felt.

            Thinking back on those
wonderful memories, all I want to do now is hurry and rush to see her. I’m
going to make this workout with my dad as quick as possible. I throw on some
grey sweats, a black tank top, my grey and white Nikes, and trek downstairs to
find my dad. As I’m walking past the main hallway to reach the basement stairs,
my daddy’s best friend and business partner Damien, is standing at the end of
the hallway, all black designer business suit on, hair in a fresh brush cut,
clearly waiting for me. I look at the medium height dark skinned man and wave.
There’s obviously some kind of change in plans for tonight if Damien is here. I
stop a few feet in front of him and cross my arms.

            “What’s up D?” I ask, head
tilted to the side. Although Damien is my daddy’s best friend, he’s more of a
big brother to me than an uncle and has always been one of the first people I
would talk to if I needed to clean up any mess I made. He is absolutely
reliable and whatever he does with my father and the business makes him a
valuable asset.

            “I need you to take a ride
with me. Get your jacket, Jason’s waiting for you.” He may sound cool and
collected, but I can still see through his relaxed demeanor and tell that he’s
not too happy with my father right now. But, I know enough not to ask him about
it until we are on our way.

            “Um, ok. Just, give me a
sec,” I tell him as I head back upstairs to my room to grab a light jacket and
ponder where we could possibly be going.

            D holds the door for me as
I slide in his silver Camaro. The leather seats are cool against my back, the
recently detailed interior sparkles, and his car freshener reminds me of
strawberries. I buckle up and he does the same before speeding off into the
night. I reach for my phone, slightly disappointed at the prospect of not
seeing Selene until even later tonight. I sigh heavily.

            Sumn’s up wit my dad. I’ll
let u kno asap when I’m comin thru,
I
text.

            Ok. I guess I’ll jus take
a long shower then. Alone,
she
responds.

            I sigh even louder this
time.
Ass.

            Lol. I kno. I can’t help
it, I’ve learned frm the best.

            I shake my head, put my
phone back in my jacket pocket, and turn my attention to Damien who is weaving
through traffic, clearly even more irritated than before. Road rage, I assume.
From the landmarks around us, it seems safe to say that we’re headed to my
daddy’s company, but the manufacturing warehouses in the business district, not
the corporate office downtown.

            “D, what’s the deal?” I
ask him.

            We turn a corner and then
Damien answers carefully, “Since you’re going to start being a part of the
business, there are some things you need to see first.”

            “Okay,” I say knowing that
there is obviously something more to the story than that or he wouldn’t be
having this scowl on his face. “So, what’s wrong with that?”

            “I just don’t think this is
the right way to go about it. He should talk to you about these things first,
not just throw it on you.” Boy… that was telling. Damien grips the steering
wheel tighter as if he could crush it into a thousand pieces.

            “You guys deal with
weaponry. I know that it can’t be all rainbows and sunshine,” I say, slightly
offended at his insinuation that I can’t handle it or am oblivious to what is
going on.

            “No,” he nearly snaps.
“No, Rayne. Your father should have been telling you these things a long time
ago, and now he just wants to throw you into it. I don’t think it’s right.”

            “I think you’re
exaggerating D,” I say as I turn back to look at the road, the buildings are
nothing but blurs as we zip by.

            “Dammit Rayne, you just
don’t get it. You’ll see.” We both sit silently for the rest of the drive,
irritated at each other for different reasons. Five minutes later, we pull up
to a security gate. The guard comes up to the car, points his flashlight inside
and then waits for Damien to roll down the window.