Chapter Text
The country club patio is blissfully quiet considering it is not “the season”. You and your mother sit in stony silence at a white linen table with a view of the golf course. Her perky pink cardigan is wrapped delicately around her bony tanned shoulders, large black sunglasses covering half of her face. You sit with your back straight, hands folded delicately in your lap. Your long sleeved black maxi dress a stark contrast to her bright sweater. Your blonde hair styled in beach waves, collection of bangles and rings and summer glow keep you from looking gothic, but it is obvious she disapproves.
“Veronica, your father is very disappointed in you,” she says between sips of chilled white wine.
You blink and before you can open your mouth she continues, “When the time comes, he expects you to accept David’s proposal and stop this ridiculous charade. You cannot keep insisting you are dating someone,” she says condescendingly.
“I am seeing someone, Mom,” you say wincing at how petulant you sound.
“Then where is he?” she asks waving her glass around. “Ronnie, please stop this lunacy and accept that you and David will be married,” she says derisively.
You clench your jaw grateful the patio is empty. “Mother, I told you I am seeing someone and even if I wasn’t, I would never consider David’s marriage proposal. He is a rapist,” your gaze drilling into the wide rimmed sunglasses.
“I told you never to use that word again,” she snaps.
“Darling, is this because of what happened when you were sixteen? You know boys will be boys,” she says sweetly regaining her composure and finishing her drink.
“Goodbye, Mother,” you say pushing yourself away from the table walking towards the exit. Your body is buzzing with anger. You remain poised and graceful evoking the years of etiquette school that have been drilled into your brain. The valet brings your car around and you smile graciously.
Boys will be boys, you think to yourself grinding your teeth.
It is a long drive back to the city and the sun set hours ago. The tension in your body immediately subsides as you enter your one bedroom apartment. It is beautifully furnished in neutral tones, candles and cozy wool knit blankets.
You kick off your heels, your long black dress dragging on the floor. Your mother hates when you wear black which makes you love it even more. You always keep the rest of your appearance sunny and fresh to avoid looking like a member of the Addams family. Imagine the horror, you think sarcastically envisioning yourself at the country club dressed like Wednesday Addams. No make it Morticia.
With a long sigh you grab your heels wondering what you are going to do about David. David and Ashley Lyding, son and daughter of Charles Lyding III. Your father’s oldest business partner and closest friend. You and David are the oldest and through the Fates cruel matchmaking your marriage is arranged. You lean back against the door, your stomach lurching as you remember the night you stumbled on David forcing himself on Ashley’s friend at a party. You were sixteen. When you told your mom she slapped you across the face. Don’t ever say that word again, she told you. Rapist. That is what he is and the power and privilege that come with being the sole male heir has not diminished his appetite for taking advantage of women.
Bile rises in your throat at the thought of marrying him. As you gather the extra material of your skirt to keep from tripping, you hear a noise in the hall. You open the front door and peek out. You squint watching a man with dark hair and a salt and pepper beard standing suspiciously outside of Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti’s unit.
Ignoring every instinct, you walk barefoot down the hall heels in hand trying to figure out what he is doing. As you silently approach him you notice he is trying to pick the lock.
“What are you doing?” you ask shattering the silence.
He jumps startled by your voice. “Hey doll,” he says with an easy smile. His skin is tanned with smile lines around his dark brown eyes. “The management company received a call about this unit. Concerned kids worried about their elderly parents. The landlord sent me to check it out,” he says turning back towards the lock.
“No they didn’t,” you say in a firm tone.
“Listen…” he says with an exasperated expression. He is interrupted by the unmistakable feedback of a police radio.
“… Reports of a suspicious male in the building…” the receiver screeches.
“10-4. We will check it out,” a male cop responds.
Your eyes widen as you turn back towards the stranger.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” he says calmly stuffing the lock picking tools into his coat. He is wearing a gray t-shirt, a plaid button down and a jacket.
“Follow me,” you tell him grabbing his hand.
You turn the corner just as the policemen enter the hallway. You walk quickly through the halls intent on looping back around and sneaking into your apartment unnoticed.
As you are about to re-enter your hallway you hear, “Neighbors described the suspect as a male mid to late thirties, black hair, salt and pepper beard with a plaid button down and tan overcoat,” the walkie-talkie screeches.
You stare at his dark brown eyes. “Do you trust me?” you ask.
“Not even a little,” he answers scowling.
You leap into his arms grateful he has fast reflexes and you don’t land on the floor.
“What an amazing party!” you say your arm wrapped around his shoulder as he stands in the hall holding you bridal style. “I can’t remember the last time I danced so much. Thank you so much for pulling the car around and carrying me upstairs. You are so thoughtful…” you say trailing off.
The officers pause halfway down the hall and turn towards you. “Oh! Good Evening!” you say sweetly fluttering your eyelashes.
“Ready for bed?” you say melodiously turning your attention back to the unknown man running your finger along his jaw.
“Miss Lodge a neighbor reported seeing this man acting suspiciously,” the younger officer says uncertainly.
“Suspiciously?” you laugh dismissively. “This is my boyfriend,” you say haughtily. You cling to his neck as he practically drops you. Too much Ronnie, you think to yourself.
“Now if you will excuse us we will be turning in for the night,” you say with an innocent smile.
The unlocked door opens easily as you are carried over the threshold and unceremoniously dropped to your feet.