Seeing Red (20 page)

-Helen

***

Fuckity fuck! Fuck! RT is my father!
That was
the only thought Jill was able to formulate.

Slowly, very slowly, a few things were starting to
make sense. She knew three things for sure: First, Helen was her
aunt. Second, RT was her father, and third, he was the murderer
from the police report. There were pages and pages, actually
volumes and volumes, of journals. Some entries were trivial, such
as what Helen had done on a particular day. What she had eaten, for
example. Some were a little more significant: a fight she had with
Matthew or her sadness of not being able to have children due to
endometriosis. However, some were monumental. The ones that dealt
with Esther, those were monumental.

In those entries, Jill could feel Helen’s fear
through her writing. Helen wrote almost every day, and they were
her deep dark secrets or the secrets of others. Even though she was
an author by profession, she wasn’t writing as an author. She wrote
almost in stream-of-consciousness. She wrote them for herself, not
expecting anyone else to read them. They were her diaries.
Therefore, it took time to understand what she wrote about. They
were her feelings, not detailed accounts of the actual situation.
She wasn’t writing a book. She had written her thoughts, as she
perceived them, so some of the entries seemed cryptic, but
nonetheless significant.

Jill was sure that she could formulate an entire
story once she had read all the entries. At least she hoped she
could, but the more she read, the more questions she had. For
example, had Helen used “RT” to hide the identity of the person, or
was it her shorthand? Or was that his nickname? As she read, she
also realized there was no way in hell she would finish any time
soon. She needed help and she had a sneaking suspicion that she
would run out of time. She needed this mystery solved, pronto. The
thought of the note left in her room lingered in the forefront of
her mind: “Finally, I can keep an eye on you; trust that you are
being watched from afar.” That line in the note gave her goose
bumps.

Jillian knew she had to get help and the only people
that could help her were her boys—Oliver and Alexander. Alexander
was quickly nixed. He was too overbearing. He couldn’t handle it,
and she needed help, not protection. She needed someone that could
simply read the journals and help her put all the pieces together.
That left Oliver: ever-loyal, every-trusting, ever-practical Oly.
He would be in town in a week. She would talk to him about the
situation and enlist his help.

Meanwhile, in class, Professor Black was tougher on
Jill than usual. Although, the last two times she saw him walking
down the halls between classes, he smiled. He was a conundrum: Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. She didn’t understand what the deal was with
the split-personality issue he had going on. There was Professor
Asshole who made her life impossible in class and Professor Dreamy
who made her tingle head to toe the few times they were alone.

On Thursday, one week after Thanksgiving, Oliver
sent Jill a text with the flight information so that she could pick
him up at the airport Friday morning. She would have to miss
Criminal Law, but that was a small price to pay to be able to see
Oliver after four and a half years.

That night, Jill didn’t sleep. She had always been
the queen of denial, and right now, she sat on the throne,
pretending that she could just brush off the fact that Oliver would
be expecting an answer. Denial. She had to face the music and talk
to him about it, but she wasn’t sure exactly what to say to him.
Hey, so I kissed your brother and realized I love him, and I
know that if you and I kissed, we would set each other on fire.
Thus, I love you too. Therefore, I’m just going to choose—neither.
’kay. Thanks.
Nope, that would most definitely not work.

***

Alexander

At 8:00 am on Friday morning, Alexander knocked on
Jillian’s door. An attractive and tall brunette wearing flannel
pajamas opened the door with a bright smile.

“Hi there, I’m Alexander. You must be Heather.”

“Hey there, nice to finally meet you. Wow, you are
tall.” She looked up. “Come in. Hmm? I don’t see Fight Club.”

“Huh?”

Heather stared, focusing her eyes. “Thelma and
Louis. Definitely Thelma and Louis.”

“What?”

“Oh never mind, hon’. Is Jill expecting you?”

“Probably not.” He winked and put his finger to his
mouth in a “be quiet” gesture.

He tiptoed into her room. He could hear the
blow-dryer on, and she probably hadn’t heard him come in. He came
around and bent down behind her and gave her a soft sensual
open-mouthed kiss on the neck. She jumped up and screamed, and her
knee-jerk reaction was to hit him on the head with the
blow-dryer.

Heather laughed by the door of the room. “Ha! Maybe
ya’ll are more like Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Good job, Angelina.”
Heather laughed and walked out.

“Why do you do that! One day I’m going to have a
heart attack. You know that I took Tae Kwon Do classes, Alexander.
I could really hurt you one of these days by accident.” She had her
hand clenched on her heart and was completely serious.

“Ow! My head. That blow-dryer hurt,” he rubbed his
head and laughed at her feisty threat. She was short, well maybe
not short by normal standards, but a lot shorter than he was. And
although she was lean and fit, she was dainty, almost mousy. She
couldn’t hurt a fly, but it humored him that she seriously thought
she was capable of being a physical threat to anyone.

“Good! I’m glad it hurt. Why are you here?” She
looked him up and down.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine. We don’t have
to end our big epic fight, but I’m going with you to pick up
Oliver.”

“No, you’re not.” He threw himself on her bed and
put his hands behind his neck and crossed his feet.

“Yes, I am.”

“Get your disgusting boots off my bed,” she shooed
his feet off.

“Or what, you’re going to karate chop me?”

“Don’t mock my skills. I can kick your ass if I
wanted to.” She was serious, which made him laugh even harder. It
was adorable.

“I hate when you straighten your hair. Why are you
doing that? Is that how your boyfriend likes it?”

“No. I like it straight, and I woke up early and
thought I would straighten it. Whatever, come along, I don’t care.
I’m not talking to you anyway. Plus, you’re missing Criminal Law,
which you shouldn’t do because you’re close to flunking as it
is.”

“Yeah, right, I’ve never flunked anything in my
life,” he said with assured confidence.

***

Jillian

As Jill picked out what she was going to wear, she
couldn’t help staring at Alexander, who lay comfortably on her bed.
He was dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He
had not taken his black leather jacket off yet, which he always
wore because of his motorcycle—even in ninety-degree weather. His
hair was a disaster—a beautiful disaster—from the helmet that he
must have just removed.

Since it was still hot as hell, Jill opted for a
very short baby-blue flowing dress. It had thin spaghetti straps
and a square, but low-cut, front. It was very casual but
appropriate for school later in the day. She paired it with her
black combat boots that went past her ankles. She loved her boots.
They made her feel confident and badass. Most women loved heels,
and she did too. In fact, she loved wearing heals and she wore them
often, but when she really wanted to feel secure and sexy, she wore
her ass-kicking boots. Plus, they were comfortable, and she didn’t
have to worry about tripping over her two left feet.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed,
Alexander’s stare burned a hole in her. He made a low guttural
growl, which made her self-confidence do a little happy dance. He
grabbed her wrist and reeled her against him. “God, you’re
beautiful,” he whispered, chastely kissing her cheek. She, on the
other hand, had to stop herself from arching into his arms and
melting.

They rode in Jill’s car in silence, but Alexander
took any opportunity he had to reach for Jillian’s hand and kiss it
or caress it, even though she would yank it away. She knew that he
got a kick out of tormenting her; she liked the attention but
refused to admit it. She couldn’t even admit it to herself yet.
They got to the spot where Oliver said to meet him at the terminal;
he was already there, waiting.

Any doubt that she had about her feelings for Oliver
came crashing down the moment she saw him. She barely put the car
in park before she ran out and rammed into him. “Oly, oh my God,
I’ve missed you so much.” She hugged him tightly, and he picked her
up, keeping her in his arms, squeezing her and kissing her
cheek.

Jill immediately realized how much he had changed in
the last four years. He was taller, like Alexander, but he was more
tanned, as he had been on the island eleven years ago. Moreover, he
was broader and more muscular than he had been four years ago. His
head and face were cleanly shaven, and that one dimple on his left
cheek was now more pronounced against his chiseled face. Where
Alexander looked purposely scruffy, Oliver looked groomed, but in
an outdoorsy kind of way. He wore khaki cargo shorts and a white
t-shirt that looked at least two sizes too small around the arms.
If it was even possible, Oliver was bigger than Alexander—beefier.
She noticed that his calves were bigger than her thighs. She wasn’t
sure when it had happened, but these boys were not boys—they were
full-grown men.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.”

Alexander got out of the car, slowly and grunted
loudly at the public display of affection.

“Okay, okay, calm down, Red. You’re acting like a
fool. Let go so that I can say hello too.” She punched Alexander’s
shoulder.

“Do you two ever stop fighting?” Oliver asked.

“I’m not fighting. She’s fighting. She’s not talking
to me—ever again apparently.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave
Oliver a quick hug. “Welcome back to the U.S. of A., Brother.”

“Thanks.”

Alexander put Oliver’s bags in the trunk of the car,
grabbed Jill’s keys, and said “Scoot over. I’m driving.”

“The hell you are. It’s my car. Give me the
keys.”

“Your driving was making me sick—literally. All the
stopping and going made me dizzy. You don’t want your poor Oliver
throwing up right after landing, do you?”

“Shut up, that’s not true. Give me my keys,
Alexander.” She was on the tips of her toes, trying to reach for
them as he held them up above her head. She felt like a circus
dog.

“Nope.”

“Oh my God! Seriously, you two are out of control.
Give me the keys. I’m driving.” Oliver yanked the keys from
Alexander’s hand, and Jill immediately ran to the passenger side
and sat in the front seat. “Ha! Shot gun. Point for me.”

Alexander huffed.

“You are like two children,” Oliver put the car in
drive. “Some things never change.”

***

Alexander

Alexander took the opportunity to have some fun while
sitting in the back seat. While Oliver rambled on and on about his
trip, Alexander carefully reached his hand between the front
passenger seat and the car door and slowly caressed Jill’s arm with
his fingers. She stiffened. He thought she’d fight him or slap his
arm away, but she didn’t. Emboldened, he went higher up to her neck
and with his thumb rubbed her cheek, moving upwards towards her
lips. He could have sworn she even leaned into his large hand, like
a purring kitten.

“You’re very quiet back there.” Oliver said, looking
through the rearview mirror at Alexander, but he couldn’t see what
Alexander was doing with his right hand to Jill’s right arm, right
cheek, neck, and lip. Her face flushed, and the heat radiated onto
his hand. She stuttered her way through the rest of the
conversation with Oliver. It felt very intimate, and what started
off as a taunt was now something more—something hotter and
seductive—and he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Thank God he’d
worn loose-fitting jeans because this was becoming a little erotic.
Pure, primitive male triumph flowed through his veins.

“Xander?” Oliver asked again.

“Um, I’m just carsick from the drive to the airport.
Jill’s driving sucks.” Alexander answered snottily and distracted.
“By the way, you have to take the next left to get to my
apartment.”

“You’re staying with Alexander?” Jill asked.

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“No reason. It didn’t occur to me, I guess.”
Alexander’s hand retreated for a split second. He licked his thumb
and proceeded to caress closer to her mouth with his fingers,
specifically his now-wet thumb over her dry lips. In an effort to
hide it from Oliver, she turned her face to the right and looked
out the window. Alexander rubbed her full bottom lip with the pad
of his thumb and then slipped it in her mouth and used the wetness
from her mouth to moisten her own lips. What surprised him the most
was her tongue. It sensually messaged and sucked his finger. He
almost exploded. His breathing became a little erratic. What had
begun as trying to torment Jillian had turned into erotic,
voyeuristic play with Jill’s tongue and Alexander’s fingers.
Alexander was beyond turned on—which had not been the original
plan. She had flipped his plan around, and he wasn’t sure who was
tormenting whom.

You can close your eyes to things
you don’t want to see, but you can’t close your heart to the things
you don’t want to feel.

-Helen

Jillian

What the hell had gotten into her? Her brain had
packed its bags and gone on vacation and took her common sense and
decency with it. Jillian should have stopped Alexander, but she
didn’t have the strength. It had been the single most sensual thing
she had ever experienced in her life.