Getting by (A Knight's Tale) (3 page)

“Surveillance, I’m a genius,” the voice that told me earlier during our shower
‘that’s right, baby, scream for me’
, said. “Yes, you may call me stalker, Miss….” Jacob’s grin appeared after he rotated my chair so I’d face him.

“Anderson,” Liam, my boss said and stood next to his brother.

That’s why he looked familiar, Emma.

“Go away.” His eyes were about to leave their sockets. “Jake, we have an agreement. You and Mitchel stay away from my employees; I do the same with yours.”

“Met her before, little brother.” He tilted his head and gave me a blissful smile. “Elevator-airport girl. Give us five,” he ordered.

“Jacob Knight,” he said, and extended his hand and pulled me into an embrace. “Your turn, Miss Anderson. My little brother isn’t famous for his patience.”

“Emma,” I said. Then he possessed my mouth, taking me back to the same place, lust-land, where we shared an unforgettable weekend. I stopped and pushed him a little to talk some reason into him. “Once in a lifetime.”

“That was before, baby,” he said, and cupped my face. “I know, no complications, light and easy. London’s home for me, so we’ll compromise. I’ll visit, you’ll visit.” He gave me another kiss that left me wanting more after it. “Serendipity; can’t fight it. When I checked the surveillance for the shift change, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I got you.” He set his forehead over mine and caressed my hair. “You and me tonight, dinner and a sleepover. We’re moving you to my flat for the remainder of your trip. Same wave link, light and uncomplicated.”

Why argue with what meant more mind blowing sex, and him. Jake Knight made me addicted to his arms, touch, voice and hugs from the get go. Light and uncomplicated. We began the first relationship I could handle since my parents died four years ago.

TODAY…

Chapter 3

Emma

A
NNA MADE A
slight turn toward the north, trying to lose the man who followed her into Central Park. The artist loved photography and accidentally she snapped a picture of a member of the—

“Ladies and gentleman, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat-backs and tray tables are in full….” I mentally cursed when the pilot interrupted my scene.
Anna lost her phone and didn’t have a way to reach James.
On second thought, the interruption made sense. I needed to change the sidekick’s name. Men loved James Bond, and they’d hate it if I named the pal of my heroine after their man-crush.

I put my abilities as a savvy traveler to work, and in less than two minutes, my laptop was tightly secured in my messenger bag, which was safely under my seat. Only seconds before the flight attendant passed through my row and gave me a glare like the one she administered to the woman in front of me. From my light jacket I took my package of gum and popped a couple pieces in my mouth. Mr. Hayashi, my friendly seat-neighbor smiled and nodded when I offered him some. Nice guy, he liked to talk and show his family pictures to anyone that would see them—me and the passengers on the other side of the isle.

The gum was Mom’s old remedy against ear popping. Anna Lynden-Anderson was a smart, beautiful woman, mother of two and wife of Nicholas Anderson. She was remembered by a few and loved by her survivors, her parents—Nana and Grampy—and I. ‘Beloved Mother and Daughter’ her cremation monument read—I recalled, though I never visited their graves. Not since we put their ashes away five years ago. After the funeral I moved to New Haven with my grandparents. An internal alarm began to ring and I reacted just in time. Before my eyes began the next big flood, I swept the memories under the imaginary rug of not now.

My stomach did a few flips, certainly the plane’s landing side effects I convinced myself. Not the fact that I had returned to my old neighborhood. The old daggers stabbing my chest returned as the wheels of the plane touched the runway. The tragedy that ended my family should remain buried, next to my parents.

I slapped a hand to my forehead. Why did I agree to this torture? Oh, yes, Gaby, my childhood friend—and happily ever after believer, convinced me to join her party.

Three months ago, she invited me to have lunch with her and Cade Muir —her boyfriend back then. Though we both lived in New York, we didn’t see much of each other. She was busy with med school, while my work kept me occupied from the early hours of the morning, until late at night. That was the beauty of being an Advertising Director for one of the best companies in London and New York.

I arrived ten minutes earlier than the time we agreed. Who was I kidding? In truth, it had been a half hour before, to save a seat in the corner of the restaurant and to avoid any PDAs in front of the entire clientele. The five foot one explosive dynamite ignited with affection and made sure everyone around her listened to her conversations. Lovely, but at times when she talked about losing her virginity, catching her parents having sex, or similar topics, it wasn’t fun. The tables weren’t big enough to hide me until the said establishment we visited closed for the day and had emptied.

Cade and Gaby arrived on time, the petite curvaceous brunette walked hand in hand with the more than six foot tall teddy bear. He was a mix between Winnie the Pooh and the Pillsbury man; black hair, the color of a raven, and deep brown eyes. They had been together for almost a year, a match made between Gavin—Gaby’s brother—and Cade’s cousin.

A left hand, no, correction, a ring finger was positioned in front of my face flashing a four carat emerald cut diamond on a platinum setting. “He proposed.” She clapped excitedly and threw her arms around me. Thankfully I was ready for those out of the blue hugs, and sharing her joy, I hugged back. He took her on a carriage around Central Park, and during the ride, Cade told her she was the love of his life. Unfortunately, while on the ride he couldn’t go down on his knee and do it the old fashion way, but she forgave him because he gave her a big enough ring. I didn’t think much of it and smiled while nodding.

“Maid of honor?” Gabs words were a low punch that hit me directly in the gut and I couldn’t recover. What kind of person would I be if I turned down such a privilege? Not even my bitchy self—Gaby trapped me. “I chose you over my cousins, so you can’t say no.”

She chose me over her cousins, not reassuring. Sixty percent of the world’s population had some blood connection to her. Her mother was half Venezuelan, a quarter German and something else, while her father was also another sort of mix. Hence, picking a maid of honor among her family would become a hassle that no one, not even Gaby Clement, wanted to take on.

“You need to make your hotel reservations soon.” Gaby jumped on her horse and began to write down what I needed to do. The swanky hotel located a few minutes from her parents in Menlo Park, California, had reserved a hundred rooms for the wedding. “Everyone is coming from all over the world to our event.”

Gaby wasn’t kidding. Family from Venezuela, Germany, Ireland and other places she named, more than I could remember, were coming. What grabbed my attention was that, like Gaby, Cade had family on the other side of the Atlantic. “Wouldn’t it be more convenient for everyone if you have the wedding here, in the Big Apple?”

Her shoulders stiffened, and she lightly shook her head. Fine, at least I hadn’t brought to her attention that three months to prepare a wedding was rushing it. “Or Vegas, that’s a fun place. You can bolt and make it fast,” I said, to lighten up her mood.

“I’d elope tomorrow, Em.” She smiled dreamily while wiggling her fingers to show the sparkly finger to the world. I wanted to puke, my life didn’t have a Cade, nor did I expect anyone to sweep me off my feet anytime soon. With hostility on my part, I was in a bitter state of mind. “But, have you met Mom?”

Indeed, I had met her while my mom carried me inside her womb, and swore to that day that that woman was the one who made me dislike big gatherings and made me scared of crowds. They had been sharing the same fence for five years before Gaby and I appeared into this world. As I said, Gaby’s family was multicultural with a capital M. As next door neighbors we got to participate and watch one too many parties. A bullet in her heart would be less painful than her only daughter eloping. Instead, they had an entire week of activities to celebrate Gaby’s wedding.
Joy.

“You met only half of them,” she told me, while writing the colors of the wedding—black and peach—plus the activities she’d like me to consider for her bachelorette party—no strippers. “Mom invited everyone, and they’ll be there. Cade’s parents are scared, aren’t they, Cade bear?”

“I told them about their parties,” Cade bear responded with a husky voice, hugging Gaby tightly on the side with one of his arms. “Scared the hell out of them.”

Yay,
I celebrated internally. There was company to my misery. “Of course I’ll do it. But if I have a work emergency, I’ll need to respond,” I warned Gaby.

“Em, get a life,” she said, a subject she brought up the few times we spoke over the phone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to San Francisco International Airport, local time is four twenty five and the temperature is fifty-seven degrees. For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated with your seatbelt fastened….”

I turned my cell on and checked my voicemail.

“Emma, got your message. The boss is on vacation, enjoy your holiday, darling.” Suzy my counterpart in London sounded cheery. “The lion left and we are dancing in joy. Don’t call until next week, I dare you.”

A chuckle escaped me. There was no way I wouldn’t be contacting the office, checking my emails, or doing something work related.

Once it was safe to stand up and leave the plane, I followed the other passengers. My wobbly legs carried me through the narrow hallway, where at the end, the captain and flight attendants courteously wished the passengers a wonderful time. Their reassuring smile gave me confidence to carry my numbed body toward the exit and continue on to baggage claim. My two black suitcases with yellow ribbons on the handle appeared at once. I set my carry-on bag over my shoulder and headed toward the exit, pulling both bags with me.

Chapter 4

Emma

I LOVE MY FRIEND, but the small pistol made me want to hide behind the column when I spotted her. Gaby jumped up and down while waving a yellow neon sign with big lettering:

Emma L. Anderson

Marvelous Maid of Honor

“Emma!” she screamed once she noticed me. “Over here, don’t be shy. I’m the bride and you’ll abide by my rules during the following week.”

Yes, a week full of nonsense. I refrained from saying that out loud. In truth, while growing up, her out spoken, extroverted personality fascinated me. But as an adult, I didn’t enjoy her adorable displays as much. On the contrary, I wanted to seek refugee or simply pretend I didn’t know her. Back then, we were partners in crime. Among our best hits I remembered the day we painted my mom’s roses red, after watching Alice in wonderland a thousand times. Mom didn’t appreciate my wasted artistic talent on her award winning roses. The woman won the neighborhood’s gardener of the month prize every single month—except when we ruined her garden.

We drank a few drops of her father’s expensive champagne at age ten, because they said it was bubbly—drinking bubbles—what a treat. The worst idea ever. Dad and Mr. Clement gave us a lecture that lasted forever. They thought we had gotten hammered at first, but then when we explained that we poured the entire case in the sink it got worse. Come on, we swore someone poisoned the pretty bubbly everyone liked. We never got a thank you for our heroic actions. Only three weeks without seeing each other. Those were the days I lived freely.

“Love the sign,” I told Gaby, and gave her a sisterly hug. We were almost the same height. I wore flats, while she sported a pair of platform sandals which seemed to be at least four inches tall. “Would you mind if I skip today’s dinner. I’ve got a slight head ache—jet lag.”

A friendly nod told me she understood I couldn’t handle being close to my parents’ former home just yet. The jet lag was impossible to believe when I didn’t sleep much. Two, three hours, perhaps four—unless—I pushed away the other reason why I would get decent sleep and followed my friend to her car.

“Remember when we decorated my grandma’s room?” I asked Gabby, while she drove away, exiting the airport. The area looked the same as every other international airport in the world. Traffic, long entrances to different parking lots, cabs, shuttles and thousands of big signs telling you where to turn to get to your destination.

“She spit fire that day. How are your dad’s parents?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said, detached from the man who once was my favorite grandfather and the woman who became a stranger to me.

My grandparents and I didn’t speak after my parents’ funeral, though our big fallout began with the decorating incident. We used all her supplies to make the place crafty. Wasn’t it the craft room? Glitter, stickers, scrapbook paper and ribbons hung around the walls after we finished. “You’re raising a delinquent,” she had screamed at Mom. Her house in San Francisco inspired thousands of Mausoleums around the globe. “Emma and her friend vandalized my entire home,” she had said.

“Fun times,” Gaby cried, and clapped excitedly. My eyes widened…she had released the wheel. I’d die of sadness or a car accident at the pace things were happening. “But dissecting their expensive fish made my day.”

I rested my forehead on the window. Judah Anderson, or Grandpa as I called him, died a thousand times the moment he found the beloved fish on top of the kitchen counter. In our defense, the fish was belly up when Gaby found him. She needed to find the cause and time of death. Too many criminal shows gave her the idea. She suspected the clown fish played a heavy role in his death. “He looks orange, the look of guilt,” her scientific voice had convinced me.