Envy (Seven Deadly Sins) (4 page)

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Uneasy was an understatement.  I felt downright disgusting.  That big shit eating grin of Benton’s was burning a hole into my brain, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I just couldn’t let him go.  His forceful ways, and the fact that he truly knew me better than myself made me sick to my stomach.  Still, no matter what, he was a part of my life that would never go away, not even with a man like Carlton by my side.

Carlton’s comfort level around people like Benton was also disturbing.  His ability to compartmentalize was incredible, and I was pretty sure flustered was a state he’d never been in.  His confidence was amazing, and on a somewhat higher level than Benton’s.  Well, maybe not higher, but different.  You could almost see the mechanical wheels churning in Benton’s brain.  Carlton, on the other hand made it look effortless.  It was simple really.  During business hours Carlton maintained the cut and dry persona that sent his combatants running like sissies for cover.  I appreciated that, but it was the afterhours Carlton that made my panties damp.

And now I have to eat with both of them.  Each one unnerves me for a different reason.  Of course there was one issue that terrified me.  If Benton somehow senses he’s losing this imagined battle for my love, he’s liable to spill our secrets.  At dinner he could just as easily say that he’d like more bread as “Lets gang bang Liz afterwards, she loves that shit.”  I recoiled at the thought of his hands on me again.  I wanted
IT
not him.  After seeing the secret room in Carlton’s apartment, I knew for a fact he had it in him to give
IT
to me.  Thus my deduction was that Benton Frazier was now a disgusting liability for me, and that was all there was to it.

I brushed out my hair and looked at the dress Palmer laid out for me.  He was still rummaging around my closet looking for the perfect pair of shoes for the ensemble.  It was just a simple black dress, tight around the midriff that accentuated my breasts perfectly.  And the sterling silver necklace that had belonged to my Mother hung neatly down to the top of my cleavage, drawing everyone’s attention to my ‘greatest’ feature, as Palmer put it.  A small black Gucci clutch with a silver strap accented the outfit perfectly.

“I found them!” Palmer sang out from deep in my closet.  “Perfect shoes for tonight!”

They were perfect, as ususal.  Low strappy heels, just high enough to improve the looks of my legs, yet low enough to be comfortable for an evening of dancing.  Carlton’s secretary had sent a note to my desk informing me-no instructing me-what to wear to dinner this evening.  I felt sure that kind of information was helpful to some of the other young ladies in the office; I however, was more than adequately educated on what to wear.

I guess my less than enthusiastic attitude didn’t escape Palmer’s watchful eye.  I could see the concern he had for me in his eyes, yet that goofy smile plastered on his face was enough to make me realize that there was indeed one person in this world who loved me unconditionally.  I knew I should tell him that Benton was in town, but I really didn’t need the confrontation prior to this exercise in restraint Carlton called dinner.

“I won’t be late, Palmer.  So keep your mess to a minimum, please.”

“Yes, Mother,” Palmer said, pulling at my heart strings while making fun of me.  I know I’ve been like a protective mother hen over him for the last few years, but I couldn’t help but feel he somehow needed it.  His attitude and zest for life had taken a dramatic upswing since we arrived in New York and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by me.  It was his time, and he was finally in his element.  I was very proud of him and if I hovered over him like a helicopter parent then so be it.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I could see the black limousine through the front doors our building, but I found Carlton and Benton waiting on the sidewalk.  Carlton was impressive in his black pinstripe suit, while Benton pulled out all the stops wearing a light blue monogrammed shirt, navy blazer with khaki pants, and of course, his attire would not be complete without the light brown saddle shoes that screamed Charleston.  Yes, the southern gentleman invades New York.  He was always comfortable standing out in a crowd.

“A bit informal, Mr. Frazer, don’t you think?” I asked.

“Why bless your heart, Ms. Martin.  I hope I don’t embarrass you with my meager means, and of course, my atrocious manners.”  His snide comment left Carlton at a loss for words; nevertheless I turned to him and mouthed silently, “I’m so sorry.”

The ride down into the Theatre district was just as uncomfortable as I imagined it would be.  I loathed the fact that Benton was even in our presence, but I guess it served Carlton right for inviting him.  There was no code of conduct that said we had to entertain visiting attorneys for God’s sake!  Yet in the midst of my angst over Benton still drawing a breath, I just wanted to pull my dress up and straddle Carlton right there in the back seat.  If I wasn’t sure Benton would want a turn, I’d have probably done it.

I gazed out the window at the busy streets, trying to avoid any conversation with either one of them.  Oh Benton went on about this and that, and Carlton sat patiently and let him run off at the mouth.  And when Carlton did speak, I sensed a tinge of condescension.  Benton never seemed to catch the sarcasm.

I was delighted when the limo pulled up in front of the flashing bulb lights that surrounded the entrance way to the Edison Ballroom.  It was equally impressive knowing that if I had arrived with anyone else, I probably would have waited behind the red velvet ropes that kept the ‘regular’ people at bay.  We were ushered into the ballroom and up to the mezzanine level, where a private area had been created for Mr. Carlton Michaud.

“Beautiful!” I exclaimed as I sat down in between the two of them.  “This is amazing!”

Carlton leaned back as the waitress promptly appeared.  “The usual, Mr. Michaud?”

“Yes, please.”

“And for your guests?”

“Jim Beam and Coke,” Benton said.  “The lady will have a Vodka Tonic.”  Benton took his usual take charge position, one that may as well have yelled, ‘she’s my property!’  I opened my mouth to change the order; vodka tonic was my go to cocktail but suddenly I felt the need for a change.  However, I felt Carlton’s firm grip as he placed his hand upon my thigh.  I lowered my right hand down to cover his, and the instant I trailed my fingertips across the back of his hand I felt myself relax.  Yes, Benton was driving more than just my nerves, but even those of the ‘man of steel.’

I wasn’t sure how long Carlton was going to just sit there listening to Benton ramble on, but I got the distinct impression we were all about to find out.  Benton began some crazy story about his friends as Carlton slowly drank his bourbon, and I was just hoping that a bolt of lightning would somehow magically find its way deep into the Edison Ballroom and just kill me graveyard dead.  Finally Carlton leaned in, almost reengaging himself into the conversation.  I was hoping for some really cool questions that would stump Benton, making him feel small and inconsequential.  I stared at his chiseled jaw, the perfect lips that I longed to feel all over mine, and those eyes, so inviting and creamy that I melted every time I saw them.  I felt an incredible urge building inside, and once again I wanted him more than ever.  Carlton parted his lips, his eyebrows raised and asked, “So tell me, Mr. Frazier, how long have you known Ms. Martin?”  The nervous ball of energy welling up inside me turned instantly into stone, sinking down into the pit of my stomach with a thundering thud. 
Shit
, I thought
here it comes
.

I wanted to jump up and hug our server as she reappeared.  “Is everyone okay?” she asked.

I looked up at her as if to say, ‘throw me a lifeline; help a sister out?’  I couldn’t stand this entire ordeal any longer!  The smiling waitress caught my glance, “The restroom is down the steps on the left.”

I excused myself so that I could hide out in the ladies room and avoid the fatal train wreck that was sure to happen.  I nearly ran down the stairs and ducked into the powder room, preparing to wait out the entire evening if need be.  I was frustrated.  Carlton Michaud could have, hell
should
have, crushed this arrogant piss ant of a sleazy, greasy, slimy scumbag lawyer with a few lashes from his silvery smooth tongue, but no.  He was going to allow him to dangle, to hang around and feel like he belonged, let him dig his own fiery pit.  It was an interesting contrast in men.  Benton would have laid waste to some out of town, arrogant lawyer right away, never giving it a second thought.  But Carlton was a kid who liked to play with his food; the cat that played with the mouse, at least until he got bored and killed him.

I ordered a drink in the ladies room, that’s how long I planned to stay camped out in there.  I scanned a thousand reasons to just text Carlton and slip into a cab and head for home, but none of them seemed plausible.  And I really enjoyed the place, which was one of the things that was pissing me off as well.  I would love to eat a nice meal that’d been prepared by a renowned chef, listen to some good music, maybe dance a little.  No, no, I felt I had to barricade myself into this feminine fortress to keep from getting caught in the carnage surely happening at our table.

And I would have stayed in there until I heard the band begin to play.  The music was faint, but familiar.  It was enough to pull me out of the ladies room, and the music got so much louder the moment I stepped into the hall. 
Could it be
, I thought,
Beach music?
 I turned the corner and walked out towards the dance floor, and sure enough, Beach music.  I don’t know where the band was from, but their rendition of ‘Give me just a little more time’ was like opening a care package from home.  Benton stood next to the stage looking so quintessentially southern that I smiled.  He saw me, waving his hands frantically, motioning me to come to him.  He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but he had moments like this when he knew exactly what I needed.  As I got closer to him, I heard him yelling over the band, “C’mon Liz, hurry.  I don’t think they know any other songs by the ‘Chairmen of the Board!’  This might be our only chance.”

I took his hand and he pulled me onto the dance floor.  The wonderful memories of shaggin’ on the beach in front of the Windjammer came flooding back into my brain.  And he was even a better shagger than I remembered.  I didn’t even have time to think about how bad this bastard hurt me as we flawlessly moved together on the dance floor.  I was in my element, you can take a southern woman from the south but you can’t stop her from shagging.

(Note: South Carolina designated the shag as the official state dance in 1984. The Shag is a type of swing dance that developed during the 1930's and 40's combining nimble footwork with upbeat rhythm and blues known as beach music, which is recognized separately as a symbol of South Carolina.) Statesymbols.org

As the song wound down I realized that everyone in the ballroom was watching us like a circus act.  However, their applause at the end of our dance put me at ease, at least until I looked up to the mezzanine and saw Carlton standing there.  It was a power stance, feet shoulder width apart, completely neutral look on his face, and eyes that seemed to burn directly into my soul, even from some thirty yards away.

The rest of the evening was just as bad as the first.  Benton acted like a fool, yet too dumb to know it, or too arrogant to care.  Carlton, on the other hand, kept his faculties and his demeanor extremely neutral.  The distance he put up between us was cold.  My delight in dancing with Benton had frozen something crucial between us.  I was positive that Benton had concocted the entire scenario for exactly that purpose; he was grinning like it was his birthday.  Carlton barely spoke to me at all, and when he did it was ‘Ms. Martin,’ not Liz.

The limousine pulled up in front of our building, and Carlton stepped out of the car and extended his hand.  “Thank you, Carlton.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Martin.  I’ll walk you up before taking our friend to his hotel.”

“I can find my way from here, Mr. Michaud.  Thank you for a lovely evening.”

Screw him!
  I thought grimly,
he set me up for this!  Now he acts like I peed in his cornflakes.
  I wanted to wash this makeup off my face, strip and dream about a time when neither Benton nor Carlton knew my name.

Chapter 3

“Nucy!  Wait!” I screamed to no avail.  She was bound and determined to get across that street if it meant dragging me behind.  She finally seemed to calm down the moment we were in the small clearing.  I was just thankful to be able to finally let her off the leash for a brief moment.  These walks had a very positive effect on her, and she seemed to be comfortable with the idea that we were no longer visiting New York.

There was no one around, so watching her bolt across the grass took me by complete surprise.  She was running, full speed towards a man sitting alone under a tree in the early morning light.  I rushed as fast as I could, screaming “I’m sorry!  Nucy!” repeatedly as I did my best to run in flip flops.  My heart came crashing down when I realized it was him.  “Oh,” I said panting, “it’s you.”

It was cold, emotionless, and from where I come from, downright rude.  However, my newly adopted New York attitude couldn’t care less.  I relaxed, trying to regain my composure.

“Hey Nucy!  Miss me?” he said, rubbing her neck and looking up at me.

“Benton,” I said in the iciest voice I could summon.

“Mornin’ Liz.  See Nucy remembers me.”

“If she knew what I knew, she’d rip your head off.”  Benton seemed unaffected by my slight, and continued to love on Nucy as if they’d never been apart.  “What exactly are you doing here, Benton?”

“What?  I was sent up here by my boss to meet with the ‘high powered’ lawyer your prestigious firm assigned to this case.”

“You know what I mean, Benton.  Why you?”

“Okay, okay.  I might’ve volunteered.  Thought we might could…”