Ohana Legacy: Thin Love Series Bundle, page 94
part #1 of Thin Love Series
Mack stood center stage, decked out in a green pāʻū skirt and a pink and white flowered head piece or, leipo'o that matched the leis on her ankles and wrists, luna dance style with several girls sitting behind her, noho style. Then as the gourd and bass drums rumbled and the music picked up, Mack moved her hips, worked her footing, moving from a kaholo to a ka’o, hips swinging fast, hands mimicking the motion of the elements and then, the other dancers followed suit.
The stage crowded with dancers, like a kaleidoscope of movement and color, bustling with energy and sound, but Mack was still the focus and I slipped my gaze down to Koa, grinning when he moved his eyebrows up as though he couldn’t take his attention from the stage.
“ˋAe!” Dad shouted, then, “Nani!,” whistling as Mack stepped forward, still dancing, smile beautiful and bright and then a tall fire dancer, bare chested with a wrapped skirt and grass leis under both knees, joined her.
The light, the movement, the music all amped the crowd and before the routine was even half-way finished, everyone stood, clapping and awed by the spectacle. To my left, I watched my parents’ cheering along with the crowd and spotted the subtle swipe Kona made against his eye when Mack’s dance slowed to a triumphant stop.
My baby sister looked beautiful and seeing her bow and that barely recognizable blush on her dark complexion was worth the trip from Miami or a thousand of those Keira Glares. All around us the crowd clapped and cheered, even my bratty kid brother managed a smile and a lifted chin as though he was as proud of Mack as we all were. It was a good night for our sister. A proud night for our family and I thought nothing could make me happier than watching Mack taking her bows or my parents’ proud, pleased smiles.
And then, as that applause thinned and the congregation of dancers from all the routines crowded onto the stage, Aly King approached, took Mack’s hand and kissed my little sister as she led the woman to the microphone center stage.
God, but she was beautiful. Still.
Her hair was shorter, still thick and wavy and swung down her back from the clip at the base of her scalp. She wore a red, fitted dress that accentuated her tiny waist and made her ass look like a plump, tempting apple. Even better was that beautiful smile, those thick, supple lips as she spoke into the microphone.
I didn’t listen to that low, quiet voice, not really. It barely registered when she thanked the parents, when she explained how hard her dancers had worked preparing for the recital.
“I thought for sure Aly wouldn’t make it,” Mom tried and I rolled my eyes, sending her a frown I knew she’d take as disapproval. “Leann said she was in New York this week and that her instructors would have to run the recital.” The lie was stupid and I guessed my mother knew it. She at least tried to hide her grin.
“Mom, in five years Aly has never missed a recital,” I said, leaning toward my mother as I fixed my eyes onto the stage.
“And you came anyway?”
There was a little too much confidence in my mother’s voice and I shook my head when Kona laughed as though getting me to New Orleans had been some devious plot my parents were proud had been successful.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I told them, crossing my arms as Aly bowed and accepted several bouquets of flowers from her dancers.
“It’s been a long time,” Mom said, sliding Koa out of the way to stand next to me. That hard, intruding glance at me felt like fire. Keira was always meddling. “She looks beautiful, right?”
“Mom...”
“Ransom, you’re going to miss your chance if you keep away from her.”
I thought I had. Well, I thought it wasn’t time. Not yet and I didn’t appreciate my mother’s intrusion or how she’d spent the past four years nagging me about Aly. I knew she meant well. I knew my mother was just concerned that Aly and I had dragged our feet about our relationship. Well, our lack of a relationship with each other.
“I’m not missing anything,” I told her, almost believing that I could convince my mother I didn’t ache from missing Aly.
Four years was a long time to be without the person you knew in your gut you wanted more than anything. Four years was too long, but then, hadn’t we always said we knew we were end game?
“No matter where I go, Ransom, my heart will stay with you,” Aly had told me the night she left our condo. Miami was too hot for her. I was too busy and she missed New Orleans. She missed the work she did with the kids at the Y and wanted to settle down. She wanted to plant roots.
“Aly, I’ll never love anything like I love you.” I hadn’t lied. Not once and it wasn’t as though she’d left bitter. It wasn’t like separating was something either of us wanted to do. But it had taken us six years to finish college, to figure out how to work things out between her work choreographing recitals and routines in New Orleans and me settling with the Dolphins right out of the Draft.
She hadn’t left with the intention of staying gone. I hadn’t let her leave without a plan to follow. But two weeks became a month. Then a month became six, and before either of us knew what was happening, phone calls and texts went unanswered and we were barely even responding to emails. Life just happened when we weren’t paying attention. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t missed her. It didn’t mean we hadn’t tried. We had. But each time we got back together again, those responsibilities we’d created for ourselves, the pressures both of us had, got in the way of us being together. We’d let it. We continued to let it.
“You’re here for the weekend. Why don’t you at least spend some time with her?” That came from my father and when I glanced at him, jaw clenched, he didn’t bother looking shame-faced. He nagged me as much as my mother about Aly.
“Why don’t you two mind your own business?” I forced a smile at them, hoping to conceal my irritation.
“Ransom, you should know,” Mom started, ignoring my grin. “Aly’s been...”
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen...” Whatever Mom was going to tell me abruptly ended when a tall guy in an Armani suit I’d never seen took the mic from Aly on the stage. Around them, the crowd of dancers whispered behind their hands, nodded toward the man as though they were looking at a rock star, not some prick who held his hand at the small of Aly’s back. Except Mack who only glared at the guy like he was an idiot.
That’s my girl, I thought.
“Who is that?” I asked Mom with my gaze glued to the stage.
“That’s Ethan. He...”
“I wanted everyone’s attention and Aly’s before the craziness of the after party begins.”
“Ethan?” I asked, not able to keep my attention off that asshole’s hand or the smile on Aly’s face. But I knew her. She’d been mine for six years. There wasn’t a flinch or break in her composure that I didn’t catch. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t seen each other in a while. It didn’t even matter that it had been four damn lonely years since I’d touched her. Looking at her wide, worried eyes and that forced, fake smile, I knew Aly was nervous, maybe a little wary.
“He’s a lawyer. His offices are in the same building as her studio.” Mom stepped a little closer and I stopped leaning down toward her to hear over the crowd. “He and Aly...”
“He and Aly what?” I asked, whipping my gaze at my mother.
“When was the last time you spoke to her?”
I blinked, trying not to think about how heavy my chest felt. “She sent me a text about three months ago.” When my mother frowned and I could feel that glare simmering in her eyes, I hurried to explain myself. “Mom, we’ve had mostly away games all season and she’s trying to get the cash together to open a studio in Baton Rouge. We’ve both been busy.” The crowd’s low, amazed sound moved from a whisper to high pitched squeals that brought me back to the stage. To Aly looking down at Ethan as he knelt in front of her. “Shit.”
“Keiki kane, it looks like she’s been busier than you,” I heard Kona say, sounding more annoyed than I’d heard from him in a long while.
“Aly, I adore you,” Ethan said and I felt my stomach knot. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Shit,” Mom said, grabbing my hand.
At the same time I heard Dad’s loud, “Son of a bitch” then, finally, Koa’s amazed, “What the hell?”
“Um...” Aly started, eyes blinking, head turning toward the audience as they cheered her on. There, right then, I saw the panic. Aly’s blinking stopped and she lifted her chin, held her shoulders straight. She didn’t like being put on display. She didn’t really like attention. That had been another reason she wanted to leave Florida. She hated being Ransom Riley-Hale’s girlfriend when the cameras and fans were around.
Looking at her now, trying like hell to fight back the inclination to jump up on that stage and pull her away from this Ethan jackass, I caught the worry, that strained panic bunching up the corners of her eyes.
“Um...” she said again and her mouth got tighter, the smile so wide and worried that I almost wanted to laugh. Almost. “Yeah...yeah sure,” she finally managed and I stepped back, dropping to the seat behind me when my knees hit the cushion.
Mom’s fingers on my shoulder were tight. The crowd was stupid with cheers and noise. All around me there was sensation, sound, the thrill of activity and the hope of what would happen for Aly in the coming months. It all made me want to vomit.
“Ransom...sweetie,” Mom started, kneeling in front of me. “Are you okay?”
No. I wasn’t. I’d had the most beautiful, the sweetest woman in my arms for six damn years and I’d let her walk out of my door. I didn’t chase after her.
“Keiki kane...”
“I’m...it’s fine,” I said, fighting to keep the shake out of my hands.
“She’s only known him for a few months,” Mom offered and the idea that she’d say yes to this jackass after three months and no to me every time I’d asked her for six damn years had me more than a little confused.
“Months?” I asked, shaking my head when my mother nodded.
“It’s not...serious.”
“No?” I stood, stretching my neck when my mother touched my arm. “Saying yes to a proposal sounds pretty damn serious to me.”
I started to walk away, head for the Exit, but Mom grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at her. “She doesn’t love him, Ransom.” I moved my head back as though I couldn’t stand hearing that from my mother, but Mom pulled on my arms and I knew the glare on her face wasn’t made because she was angry. That was the Determined Keira Glare. “She loves you.”
I could have argued. I could have told my mother that she was meddling, that I didn’t need her telling me how to run my life. But of anyone in the world, Mom knew what it was to want someone you couldn’t have. She knew what it was to walk away and know you can never go back again. I wasn’t an idiot. I was stubborn and distracted and maybe a little selfish, but as my mother’s glare got harder and I looked up on the stage to find Aly nervously showing off the ring on her finger, I knew time had long passed for me to get back what had slipped through my fingers.
“The question is,” Mom started, “What are you going to do about this?” She nodded to the stage, ignoring the people around us leaving the auditorium. We were four rows back, right in the center and as Aly nodded to her dancers, at their parents up on that stage with that poor bastard’s hand draped possessively around her shoulders, she searched the audience, finally stopping on my face.
“Ransom?” Mom asked.
I kept my gaze at the stage, focused on the beautiful features of Aly’s face and the way she fought the relief I knew she felt. Someone spoke to her, got no response and divided Ethan’s attention so that Aly could return my stare uninterrupted. I didn’t know if she meant to hide her hand, but it curled into a fist and then moved behind her back as though Aly had moved it unintentionally.
“Keki kane, you got a plan?” Dad asked.
Finally, when she didn’t seem able to stand my gaze on her, or the way I moved it over her face, down that lush, beautiful body, Aly shook her bangs out of her eyes and plastered another grin onto her face, pretending like she actually cared what her new fiancé was saying.
“Oh, I have a plan,” I told my parents, grinning at my mother when she laughed.
And I did, one that I’d put into action that night and I didn’t care if Aly wasn’t ready for me, if she thought being with some asshole she didn’t know was easier than staying with me. I didn’t care if she thought she’d gotten over me, if she expected me to have gotten over her. I hadn’t. Neither had she, I saw that plainly just seconds ago.
You don’t walk away from your own heart and expect to keep living. And you don’t look at someone you’re not supposed to love like their smile, their eyes are the only thing in life that feeds you. That’s how Aly had looked at me. That’s how I know I’d looked at her for years.
That’s how I knew I was still her everything.
“I’m not an easy person to love,” I told my parents, walking away from our seats. I spared one more look at that stage, smiling when I noticed Aly still watching me. “But that woman does it anyway. She just needs reminding.”
THICK & THIN
Copyright © 2016 Eden Butler
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author Publisher.
Edited by Sharon Browning
Cover Design by Steven Novack
Formatting by AB Formatting
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of any mentioned word-marks and references mentioned in this work of fiction.
For my fearless tribe and their thick, thick love.
Preface
Winnie Mayeaux was not impressed. Every month, without any fussing on her behalf, that woman, Aly King, expected Winnie and her husband, Kyle, to fork over two hundred-fifty bucks to keep their fifteen-year-old daughter, Clara, in dance classes. This was no hobby, not for Clara, not if Winnie had any say in it, and, of course, she did. That cost covered not only classes but extra lessons with Ms. King, as well, which guaranteed that Clara, no matter how much she bitched, would work hard to keep her spot on King’s competition team. They’d landed state titles two years running and Winnie was sure that would give Clara a leg up when she auditioned for LSU’s Golden Girls her senior year.
What Winnie and her husband hadn’t paid for was the spectacle they’d endured during the fall recital. Clara had performed, naturally, with the expertise that came from perpetual practice—all of it at Winnie’s behest. The girl had performed in four numbers, three of which she was featured dancer. But, Winnie guessed, as she moved uncomfortably in the plush seat, front center, front row in the large auditorium, Aly King didn’t give one fig about Clara or any of her dancers as long as she got paid. Well. Maybe the little Hawaiian girl. That child got special treatment because the girl’s parents, Keira and Kona Riley-Hale, were friendly with King; she was even some kind of glorified babysitter for them, if what Winnie had heard was true. And, it seemed it was true, since the ten-year-old had gotten her own feature performance with a row of grass skirt-wearing, lei-donning dancers.
Ah. There she was, accepting accolades and flowers at the end of the show. The illustrious Aly King. Winnie guessed she was pretty enough—tawny, smooth skin that kept you guessing who her people had been, and bright green eyes, but her hair was a disaster, a mix of wild, out of control light brown ringlets that frizzed too much if she didn’t mind it—sometimes, Winnie thought, the woman didn’t mind her hair at all—with interspersing of dull blonde streaks, supposedly natural. Her butt, though, was simply just too round. Even for a dancer.
Somehow Aly had managed, for a time, to snag Ransom Riley-Hale, the son of Kona and Kiera. Couldn’t keep him though, not from what Winnie had heard from the other dance moms. College sweethearts never last, really, especially not ones that are so different. Ransom had celebrity parents but Aly King had no family to speak of; a dead mother and a father from Tremé who’d let Aly run off at seventeen. And it’s not like professional football players like the Riley-Hale boy didn't have loads of women throwing themselves at him; poor woman just couldn’t keep up. Sad really, Winnie supposed if she gave a single thought to King outside of the payments she expected and news related to her daughter’s lessons.
The stage had calmed considerably, the students backing away, letting Aly stand in front of the microphone, waving the crowd to silence. But suddenly Winnie’s husband sat up straighter in his chair, more engaged now that he had been during the entire recital.
“What the hell is Ethan Willis doing up there?” Kyle exclaimed as he moved in his seat, stretching his neck to see better as he realized his law office golfing buddy was walking up on stage to stand next to Aly.
“Didn’t you say he’d been seeing her?” Winnie didn’t need her husband telling her gossip she already knew, but he was such a simple creature, weren’t they all, poor things? She liked to let him imagine she gave a solitary shit about the things he told her.
“Yeah. A few months now...Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”
Winnie leaned forward then, right along with everyone else in the auditorium as Ethan knelt down and held up a small Tiffany’s box in his hand. He opened the box, and Aly’s eyes went wide; the crowd hushed, listening for her reply. The quiet “Yes” that came didn’t sound all that sincere, not to Winnie’s ears. It didn’t look like Aly was thrilled at all, not like how women who are surprised by public marriage proposals are supposed to be. Her smile wavered as she answered Ethan. But the audience, the dancers on the stage, and the theater staff who had crowded around the couple didn’t seem to spot what Winnie had. No one, in fact, did. There was too much going on in the auditorium with the troupe of rhinestone and glittered-up dancers festooned in a myriad of costumes, all excited with the end of the show and the thrill of their instructor caught in an honest-to-goodness romantic moment. The stage too, was still backlit, with the Yankee New York skyline silhouetted in the back from the final routine of the recital.
