The Marriage Contract (12 page)

              “Gweneth, your pranking is really getting out of hand,” said George. “Goodness, do you even realize what you did—“

              Gweneth sighed. “It was just a little fun. Besides, I wanted to see if this young lady here is worthy of my grandson.”

              “What do you mean?” I asked.

              She walked forward, standing before me, with a pleasant smile across her aged lips.

              “You didn’t blame him,” she said. “You could have, to save yourself the embarrassment. Everyone’s attention and anger would be off of you, and onto him, but you didn’t do that. Why?”

              The room had grown quiet once again, and all eyes were on me, awaiting an answer. Her question rang in my head, blaring over my mind, but I had no idea how to respond. Why didn’t I blame James? Why did I take the blame alone?

              I didn’t know myself.

              “Maybe,” I said. “Because…I…I care for him. I didn’t want him to get in trouble—“

              “That’s exactly what won me over,” said Gweneth. “Congratulations. I don’t like many people, and I sure as hell don’t trust them. But today, you’ve won my trust, and a spot in my good books. Anyways, I’m awfully tired. I’m off to bed. All this excitement has made me sleepy—“

              “Gweneth,” George snapped. “We have to discuss this! What you did was most inappropriate—“

              “Toodles!” Gweneth waved, skipping down the room. “And don’t be such a bore, George! Come to bed. The children will see Dorothy and James out. We old folks need to rest! Well, you’re still old. I’m seventeen at heart!”

              I smiled as George nodded me a goodbye, following after his wife, who had disappeared around the corner of the room.

              They were definitely the strangest old couple I’d ever met, but also the warmest. George really loved her, and for a moment, I wondered if anyone would love me as much. Unknowingly, my eyes wandered to James, who ran a hand through his dark brown hair, looking exhausted.

              Bethany stomped towards me, freshly manicured hands placed sternly on her hips.

              She stood before me, her eyes rolling. 

              “You’re a joke,” she said. “I’m just letting you know—“

              “Bethany!” Rosaline scolded. “Please don’t talk to the maid like that—“

              My eyes snapped to Rosaline, as she placed a hand over her mouth, as though afraid she’d slipped out her true persona.

              “I’m an ex maid,” I corrected. “I stopped working there. But I might try waitressing next, so you can call me a waitress next time. I’ve got to pay the bills somehow.”

              I wasn’t sure if she understood my sarcasm, for she simply nodded her head, walked towards her daughter, dragging her out of the room.

              “I’m truly sorry, Dorma,” Rosaline said.

              “Dorothy,” I corrected. “My name is Dorothy—“

              “Of course,” she said. “Well, goodnight then…Dorothy.”

              “Mom, let me go!” Bethany shouted. “I’m not done talking to the maid--”

              “She’s a waitress!”

              Rosaline’s perfectly poised face had grown wicked, as she glared at her daughter, her chest rising and falling.

              My brows rose, and this time, I couldn’t help but smile. I had a feeling Rosaline was holding back her animosity towards me the entire time at the dinner. She really hated me- I could tell from the look in her eyes that said “you’re below me”. But the fact that she was faltering on her fake act, was amusing.

              James was right. She really was rotten on the inside.

              “I mean…she’s going to be a waitress,” she corrected. “Wait…no…never mind. I hope I didn’t offend you, dear. I just get so flustered around strangers. Not that you’re a stranger, but you know what I mean, darling.”

              Bethany scoffed, and then yelped, as Rosaline dragged her by the wrist, leading her out of the room.

              “This isn’t over, Web!” Bethany called, as they both exited the room.

              I frowned, annoyed that she was so hostile towards me, but it didn’t really get to me, because she was just a kid. The most she could do is insult me, and she didn’t look smart enough to pull out any evil plans either. But the person, who did worry me, was Rosaline- who pretended to act sweet, but was actually very bitter inside.

As I stood in the hollow space of the room, I wondered what Rosaline’s issue was.

              “Well, I’m going to the car,” James announced. “What a day. Come on, let’s go—“

              “I’ll come in a bit,” I told him. “I need to drink water.”

              He sighed. “Alright. Don’t make me wait too long.”

              I frowned. “Just go.”

              He smirked, turned, and walked down the room, exiting out the door. I exhaled a deep breath, heading towards the table, and grabbing the glass of water. I drank it in one gulp, placed the glass back on the table, and sighed.

              My energy was drained.

              As I turned around, heading towards the open door, a finger tapped my shoulder, stopping me in place.

              “Your purse.” The voice was unfamiliar, and as I turned, I almost yelped.

              It was that curly haired boy I’d seen earlier that day, reading a book in his lap. I couldn’t remember his name, and I swear I hadn’t even seen him at the dinner table. It was as though he had appeared out of thin air, but that was impossible. I must have not noticed him since he was quiet the entire time at the dinner. He hadn’t even shown any reaction to his step grandmother falling. That was a bit strange.

              Giving him a wary smile, I took the purse, holding it over my wrist.

              “Thanks,” I said. “James told me you’re studying art. That’s awesome. What type? Abstract? Modern?”

              He was a thin guy, and towered a head over me, his light green eyes dropping to the floor. With his shoulders hunched, his expression reminded of a wounded rabbit, as he walked around me. He dashed out the room, exiting through the door, leaving me confused.

              Perhaps he was just very shy.

              “Your first day to meet the Bellevue’s and already you’ve made quite a stir, Ms. Web. Oh, forgive me. I mean to say…Mrs. Web.” Richard’s voice danced along the walls of the room, as his footsteps neared.

              For a reason unknown to me, I shivered.

              He walked around, standing before me, giving me his usual poker face. But within his stale expression, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes that refused to reach his lips. His dark brown gaze stared intently at me, as though ready to burn holes through my flesh.

              I recalled the events of yesterday- how he’d yelled at me to get out of his car when I asked about his relationship with Valencio. He must have hated that I was prying into his life, and I guess, I would hate someone prying into my personal business too. Especially if it was a stranger I’d just met.

              “About yesterday,” I began. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything regarding your private life, because that’s none of my business and if you’re worried about me exposing your secret, I promise, I won’t and—“

              Richard’s arm wrapped over my waist, squeezing me so close, I could hear the soft exhale of his breath against my cheek.

              I should have escaped out of his embrace then and there, but I couldn’t move. I was shocked into place, as my eyes bulged, gaping at him. My heart thundered in my chest, and I could feel my knees begin to shake, as he pressed me further against his chest. Anger flashed over his eyes- his angular jaw clenched, as he dipped his head towards me. For a moment, my eyes closed, but then, as though an alarm sounded off in my mind, I jerked my head to the side, refusing his incoming kiss.

              Why was he trying to do that anyway? Was everyone in this house hold insane?

              “Let go!” I snapped. “If you don’t let me go right now, I swear I’ll kick you so hard, you won’t be able to walk the next day!”

              That was a lame insult, but it was the best I could come up with, and I did mean it. As his arm wrapped tighter against me, I snapped my eyes to his, giving him the hardest kick I could manage.

              But his legs must have been made of steel, for he didn’t even flinch. He dipped me down, like a sailor from an old painting had dipped his lady love, his dark eyes staring sinfully at me.

              “I’m warning you,” I continued. “I’ll scream—“

              His hand covered over my lips, muffling my scream, and though I bit into his palm, he ignored the pain. He lifted me towards him, his hand still over my mouth, and another hand pressing my waist so tightly against his stomach, I could feel the solid shape of his abs.

              “Let’s get one thing straight,” he whispered, glaring. “I’m not gay, and even if I was, it doesn’t concern you. Stay the hell out of my way. You don’t want to get on my bad side. Trust me. And don’t look at me like that…I just might fall for you, and if I do, you’ll have nowhere to run. You’ll be mine.”

Chapter Nine

              I gaped at my stunned reflection from his irises, which were a millimeter away from me, as he pressed me tightly against his stomach. My chest rose and fell- the beats of my heart thumping erratically, as Richard’s flaming gaze sizzled through my flesh.

              I bit into his palm with a fierce might, and he yelped, releasing me from his iron grip. He took three steps back, shaking his palm in air-glaring.

              “You don’t get to touch me,” I hissed. “I didn’t do anything to deserve that! I’ll stay out of your way, don’t worry about that. I don’t know how anyone would want to be near a monster like you!”

              He shot me a bitter smile, and placed his hands in the pockets of his black trousers. His grey dress shirt was wrinkled at the chest, and I vaguely wondered whether it was because of our close proximity from moments ago.

              I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on that.

              “I’m not buying the act,” he said. “Something’s up between you and James, and it sure as hell isn’t this great love story you two are trying to convince the idiots in this house—“

              I scoffed. “Think what you like. It doesn’t matter to me. Bye.”

              As I turned, clicking my heels out the room, I couldn’t help but hate his perceptiveness. It was only the second day since I’d met him, and already he’d figured out that something was wrong with mine and James’s “marriage”. If he spilled the truth to his Grandfather, then James would get cut off, which would mean that our marriage plan would fail, ultimately resulting in the demise of Rosefield shelter.

              My head throbbed.

The following morning was the first day of summer classes at Arlington University, and also my final semester. I had only one class to complete in order to graduate, and I was told by a fellow classmate, that the Professor is an odd ball.

              Walking through the double doors of the classroom, which was set in an auditorium, I watched the other students settle in a circle at the center of the stage. Large velvet curtains rested against either side of the stage, as I went up the steps, taking a seat at the corner of the circle. Most of the students were mingling amongst each other, but the rest were either staring at their phones or staring into space.

              I was so grateful that no one recognized me. I guess no one read the gossip column in newspapers anymore.

              As I breathed a sigh of relief, a girl sitting across from me, in the other side of the circle, stared quizzically at me. Her long, sunny blonde locks were tied in a high pony tail, as the light of the room, illuminated her pinkish complexion. Her plump lips were glossed with red, matching her red crop top which revealed an outie belly button. Her black leggings were so tight, they looked painted on her curvy frame, and I wondered whether she was cold. The air conditioning was so high in the room, that I had buttoned my white cardigan up to my neck.

              My brows rose, as she stood, skipping over to me- taking the seat next to mine. I gave her a curt nod- smiling.

              “You’re Dorothy Web, right?” she whispered excitedly, as though my name were a secret.

              I nodded. “That’s me. But, how did you know?—“

              She clapped her hands like a seal, her bright green eyes- shining.

              “I knew it,” she said. “This is going to sound totally nosy, but I have got to know. You’re like seriously married to James Bellevue? Like…THE James Bellevue?”

              Crap.

              “Yeah,” I replied. “But…I don’t really want to discuss my personal life—“

              She shook her head, looking embarrassed.

              “Oh, I totally understand!” she said. “I’m Stacy Kendrick, by the way.”

              She extended her hand, smiling brightly.

              “Nice to meet you, Stacy,” I said, shaking her small hand. “You know when Professor Bukowsky’s going to be here? It’s already two minutes after class and he’s not here yet.”

              “He’ll come soon,” she assured. “I took his class last year, for Monologue 101, and he came a few minutes late sometimes. I think it’s because he’s having an affair with the vocal 202 Professor—“

              “What? You can’t be serious,” I said.

              She nodded, leaning her head towards me, her large eyes- narrowed.

              “Oh, believe me,” she continued. “They’ve got this thing going on—“

              “Mrs. Jenner is the vocal 202 Professor,” I said slowly. “She’s married.”

              Stacy rolled her eyes, looking at me as though I were a naïve child.

              “Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy,” she sang. “Married people can fall in love…with other people—“

              “But that’s wrong,” I snapped. “I mean, yeah I know people do have affairs, but Mrs. Jenner isn’t like that. Her husband would come every day after class to give her a bouquet of flowers, and she would even invite him to give lectures some times. They really love each other—“

              Stacy laughed, shaking her head.

              “She was just being a good wife,” she said. “Whatever that means. Anyways, the point is…all those bouquets that her husband got her every day, lost their fragrance. She got bored of him, and the routine of marriage. Life needs some spice, Dorothy, and Mrs. Jenner’s husband, just wasn’t giving her what she needed. So she got that much needed spice…from a different store.”

              I shook my head. “You just compared Mr. Bukowsky to a store.”

              “Well, whatever,” she said. “You know what I mean. But anyways, forget that…let me give you some advice.”

              “Advice? About what?—“

              “About your marriage,” she insisted. “Listen, you look all bright eyed, and innocent, like all those girls that have no idea what they’re getting into in a relationship. In other words, you’re totally clueless—“

              “You can’t assume things about me, and my marriage is really none of your business—“

              “Just hear me out,” she said. “Alright, so what I’m trying to say is…that you’re the perfect target to get cheated on. You honestly look like you wouldn’t even notice if a guy cheated on you. That’s just my view, and I’m really perceptive. Trust me, I am. Anyways, so you’re married to this hot, crazy rich, heir, and he’s got this reputation of being a womanizer. He’ll most likely end up cheating on you, just because it’d be so easy to. Wait, don’t cut me off! Shush!! But…if you want to prevent him from touching another woman…then you’ve got to wrap him around your little finger, and make him obsess over you. The one who loves their partner more is the one who doesn’t stray. So make sure he wants you a heck of a lot more than you want him.”

              I almost laughed.

              The only person James could ever love in a romantic sense- would be his clone if he had one.

              Not wanting to make a big deal of the situation, I decided to humor myself.

              “I’m guessing you’ve been hurt a lot,” I said. “You seem to know a lot about the dealings of affairs.”

              She sighed dramatically. “I have. I don’t get it. I’m a great catch!”

              I couldn’t reply to that, since I had just met her, and she’d managed to insult me, poke into my married life, and gossip about that which she doesn’t know. But, she had clear, kind eyes, and I could tell she didn’t mean anything bad. A lot of people probably hated her because of her bluntness, but it amused me that she refused to think before she spoke. It was like her brain was on pause.

              Loud footsteps made their way through the auditorium, as we all turned to stare at the man approaching the staircase. His bald, brown head, glistened against the light of the room, as he walked up the steps, and through the circle of the class, taking a seat at the center of the room, across from me. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and wasn’t in the best shape, for his belly protruded out of his off white Hawaiian dress shirt. His faded blue jeans looked like something out of the 90’s, as he sat on the metal chair, his legs slightly parted. His black briefcase rested in his lap, as he opened it, taking out a thin sheet of paper. But as I took a moment to look at him, I realized that he wasn’t bad looking and must have been quite the catch during his younger years.

              He began taking attendance, and when he said my name, I answered, “here”. His dark brown eyes stared at me for a moment, and then nodded, looking away.

              “Alright,” he said. “Looks like you’re all here. Except for a few that missed the first day. Shame on them and good on you guys for being on time! Let’s just get things started, shall we? I’m going to pass out a bag full of tiny, cut out pieces of paper, and it’s going to say an action that you must perform. For example, if your paper says “sad”, then you must portray a sad person as best as you can. Create your own monologue on the spot, and make me believe in the character! Make me feel your character! The student who I feel did the best job- will get five points extra on the first exam. Are we clear?”

              We nodded.

              “This is exciting,” Stacy whispered. “But you know something funny? Last year, some girl had to act out the word “sex”, and it was the funniest thing ever! Oh, gosh, just thinking about it makes me laugh—“

              “What’s with the chit chat, ladies?” Mr. Bukowsky stared at Stacy, then at me- his brow raised. “If you want to talk, you can leave the room—“

              “My bad!” said Stacy. “We’ll be super quiet!”

              We? I wasn’t the one talking.

              Ugh. I rolled my eyes, wanting this class to be over with. Stacy was giving me a headache.

              When the small zip lock bag was passed over to me, I took out a small, white, folded piece of paper- then passed the bag over to Stacy. I stifled a yawn, as I opened the sheet of paper. But when I saw my given word draped in black ink over the sheet, I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I had read wrong.

             
Lust.

              Lust?

              I groaned inwardly, wondering how I was supposed to act that out. For a moment, I wanted to blame Stacy for jinxing my luck. Great. Now I was going to become a laughable memory like that girl who had to perform the word “sex”.

              Great. Just freaking great.

              “Yay! I got happy!” Stacy’s voice chirped loudly, so loud, that everyone turned to stare.

              I shrunk in my seat, horrified at my bad luck.

              But then, I realized something. I was being immature. After all, my dream was to become an actress, and if “lust” was what I had to act out, then I had to do the most convincing job I could. So what if I embarrassed myself? Acting is about becoming the character, and that’s exactly what I would do.

              Name after name were called to act out their word, and everyone had been doing a fairly clumsy job. They all had negative comments from Professor Bukowsky who kept saying, “more conviction next time! Be the character! Feel the character.”

              “Ms. Web,” he called. “It’s your turn. What is your word?”

              I hesitated. “Lust.”

              All eyes turned on me, gaping.

              Ignoring their stares, I stood, walking to the center of the circle. I had thought about what I would do, and though it would be odd, and possibly get me arrested for sexual harassment, it was the only way I could present my character.

              My eyes traced over the room, as I smiled slowly at everyone, and then briskly turned, facing the Professor. My gaze darkened, as I stared at him with a passion brimming in my eyes.

              He looked taken back, as I began to unbutton the first three buttons of my cardigan, and then stopped. He crossed his arms over his chest, his cheeks flushing a light pink, as I dropped to my knees, and crawled towards him. I stood two feet apart from him, staring intensely at him, as I slowly took out the rubber band from my pony tail. My orange strands fell over my shoulder, as I gave him a final look of sheer desperation, my chest heaving with a silent rhythm.

              He gulped, as his ears turned a shade of plum.

              Grabbing the black rubber band from the ground, I stood, wrapping my hair in a ponytail once more.

              “That was my portrayal of ‘lust’,” I said.

              He cleared his throat, and then coughed.             

              “That was…that was…quite the performance, Ms. Web,” he said. “You may…um…take your seat.”

              All eyes were pinned on me, some mouths hanging open, as I took a seat, ignoring their scrutiny. My cheeks burned, but I ignored the feeling of embarrassment, for it was part of being an actor. I had to perform the role given, and acting out the word “lust” was really freaking hard. I hadn’t lusted over anyone before, so I didn’t know what that felt like. And I hadn’t had anyone lust over me. I only remembered characters from movies I’d seen, and tried to channel them. I wished Professor Bukowsky would have told me how I did, and what needed improvement. What kind of teacher was he?