The Unmaking (The Rayne Whitmore Series Book 1)

Chapter One

            “
G
reat, don’t tell me that it’s time already for your weird
vampire show fixation. What is it this time?” My favorite/ only sister is
standing in front of the television, dyed auburn hair cut short with a bang to
the left side, nearly covering her eye. The latest brand name jeans are hugging
her too-quickly-for-my-liking developing body. She asks, abruptly ending my
silent Buffy time that is a monthly ritual of mine. I hadn’t heard her enter
the den area connected to my bedroom as I was occupied watching my favorite
episodes.

            I roll my eyes at her,
pretending to be irritated as I pause the episode just as Spike is getting
ready to sing his musical number to Buffy. “Do not go there. These shows are
sacred and Buffy is a classic.” She smacks her lips in irritation and I give
her a smirk.

            I look into her almond
shaped hazel eyes and then at her cherry glossed full lips that match mine as
if we are twins and not six years apart. My sister is very much the type to do
her own thing. She has plenty of friends, every type of social networking
account imaginable, and access to a private driver that would take her to any
of the approved places my parents had given. So, for her to come bother me
means that something just has to be going on in her young teen world that needs
the advice of her big sister.

            We get along extremely
well, but we have a mutual understanding that given our age difference, our
lives will probably go in different directions. I’m proud of the fact that my
sister is independent and does not want to live up under my shadow. Still, if
she needs me, I will gladly make time for her no matter what. I’ll do anything
for Jasmine. I scoot over on the couch to make room for her and her drama. She
looks at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes that we both inherited from our
mother and inhales as if she’s going to blow out a 60 candle birthday cake.
Twenty minutes later, I know all about Justin Bridges and his quest to have sex
with my thirteen year old, hottest eighth grader in the city, apparently,
sister. Then, I’m definitely the one to take a deep breath. Then another.

◊◊◊

            After about two minutes of
silence, soulful deliberation, and thoughts of murder-by-hire, I decide, “How
about we go for a ride, get some ice cream, and talk about this away from where
mom and dad might hear?” ‘
I am not going to be the one trying to keep my
father, the government security and arms dealer, from unloading a grenade
launcher from an unmarked vehicle and pointing it at a fourteen year old boy,’
I
think to myself.

            “Sounds good to me, but
you have to promise not to tell your girlfriend about this. She’ll just
encourage you to get one of dad’s men to beat him up. Please Rayne, I know that
was your first idea,” Jasmine begs me, her bottom lip poking out. I try to look
shocked at her request, but we both know that tomorrow I was going to be
waiting outside the school with a couple of my dad’s men to pay this Justin a
visit. I was only going to scare him a little, geeze. She’s right, Selene would
encourage it too. In the six months that we’ve been together, she’s become
extremely protective of Jasmine. That is just one thing I love about her, along
with her wonderful taste in pumps.

I put my arm around Jasmine and
realize that she has relaxed tremendously after telling me her dilemma. These
are the kind of things that sisters do for one another. Besides, if mom knew
about this, she’d probably find a way to blame it on me being a lesbian, saying
something like,
“Your sister is seeing the deviant lifestyle you are living
and is trying to have sex in order to compensate for all the ideas you are
putting into her mind.”
Yep, that sounds about right. Boy, do I love my
mom. Yay.

            Jasmine waits for me
outside my door as I grab my favorite half jacket, all black with rhinestones
on the back and silver accents, and fish my keys out of the drawer. I take a
quick glance in the mirror to make sure my make-up is still decent. Once I
approve, I tuck one side of my long jet black hair behind my ear and head out.
Two divas on an ice cream date. As we hop inside my white Aston Martin, I
patiently wait until Jasmine is all buckled in before starting the car. Safety
first.

            “Where do you wanna go,
Ms. Lady?” I ask, slowly turning up the volume on my music, then quickly
changing the song when “Freek‘n You” by Jodeci starts to play. Great, just
great; a sex song is not what we need right now. Jasmine, bless her heart
pretends not to hear.

            I leisurely pull out of
our drive and through the high security gates as Jasmine contemplates, then,
finally decides on Bingham’s lake. I smile and nod. Good choice Jazzy.
Bingham’s lake is where daddy would take us on boat rides and for fishing
whenever we were feeling sad. It has been a long time since it was just the two
of us out here alone. There’s a nice view of the water through the trees at
this spot where I got my first kiss.  I was about the same age as her when I
kissed the girl I liked. I’ll take her there to talk things through.

             Thinking back on that
time, smiling, I know that I’ve come a long way. I had loved the way her long
blonde hair was always in her face. I was always willing to touch it and put it
up in a ponytail for her. That day, I pulled her through the trees to the
perfect spot and told her in a whisper, even though no one else was around,
that I liked her as more than a friend. I had planned my confession for weeks.
How forward I was, and before she could even respond, I had closed the gap
between us and kissed her on the lips.

            When I opened my eyes and
pulled back, she was staring at me blinking, so unsure, yet so, happy that I
had done that. I saw it in her eyes, but she still ran away. We never spoke
again, but she also never told anyone. Neither had I, as her movie star friends
at the time would have probably disowned her. I still remember the sadness I
felt waiting for her to return any of my calls.

             Do I know movie stars?
About a handful, because with money comes exclusive perks, but none that I’ve
ever really bragged about or taken complete advantage of, to my mother’s
discontent. I have other plans and they don’t involve simply being successful
just because of who I know. I have faith that I’m capable of more than that.

            Sometime in between my
trip down memory lane and parking, Jazzy had put on a pair of designer
sunglasses and rebrushed her hair back into place. Stealing a quick glance at
her, I picture all the boys in her school falling over her, adoring her
naturally athletic build, small waist, and beautiful smile, much prettier than
mine, as she was blessed with naturally straight teeth and I had needed
invisalign. When she gets to high school next year, daddy will have to buy her
a taser to keep in her purse.

            Daddy is a tall, about
6’2”, caramel skinned man with a big grin, short, curly hair, and full lips;
mom is white with those astonishing hazel eyes, long brunette hair, athletic
shape, and beautiful dimples. Somehow, Jasmine got the very best of both of
them. She’s on track to be on the World’s Most Beautiful People list before she
even makes it out of her teens and I’m not exaggerating. My little sister is as
friendly as she is beautiful, and that, these days is truly rare.

            She and I look a lot
alike, but where she has dimples, I have none. Her lips are less full than mine
and as I said before, her smile, better. I have more of my father’s nose and
hers is slightly narrower. Her face is rounder due to her still losing those
childlike features and her skin tone is closer to my dad’s. She prefers to wear
her hair short and always with some reddish tint to it while I love my long,
natural wavy hair. Both of us are beautiful and we know it in our own way.

 Jasmine is still growing into her
confidence and I had already found mine when I was her age. Where she
hesitates, I never would have. Where she smiles and tells people she’s fine, I
tell them point by point why I am not.

            We both get out and I push
the remote to lock the car and set the alarm. Then, I start down the trail to
the spot by the trees with Jasmine trailing behind, clearly thinking. The trees
arch over us as if hiding us from the rest of the world. The scent of pine
cones and tree flowers fill my nose. There’s hardly any wind and the sun is
slightly hidden by the clouds as if trying to play peek-a-boo with a baby. The
warmth of the day feels good against my face, and I take a deep breath to enjoy
the air near the water as I wait for Jasmine to collect her tangle of thoughts.

            Kicking up rocks as we go,
she finally finds her courage and asks, “Rayne, did you have sex when you were
my age?” Instead of looking back at her I decide to continue walking as I
acknowledge the question so that I won’t embarrass her.

            “Well,” I start, close my
mouth choosing my next words carefully, then, say honestly, “No. I knew that
even though sometimes my body really, really wanted to; I knew that my heart
wasn’t ready.”

            “When?” she whispers
without saying the rest.

            “I was sixteen, a couple
months before I was seventeen and trust me Jazzy, I was scared to death at
first because I was still kind of unsure if I was truly ready.” By this time,
we reach my favorite spot and take a seat beneath the trees to gaze upon the
shimmering water.  Geese quacking and fish jumping become our soundtrack for
this drama. “I guess maybe, I wasn’t then, huh, but I don’t regret it. It was
special to me and I thought I was in love,” I admit.

            I didn’t really think
about my first time too much. After I did it, by the time I had had my
seventeenth birthday, that love I thought I felt had been erased partly because
after my first time, all she wanted to do was have sex with me. No
conversations, no dates, just sex. The other part of me simply cared more about
my activities I was involved in such as swimming, track, and of course dancing.

            “But what if I want to
now?”

            Silence. Even the animals
seem to quiet down waiting on my response.

            “Rayne, what if I’m ready?
Maybe not in love, but just ready, to know how it feels?” she asks, searching
for the words.

            I have to sit here and
think, let the words sink in.

            “Baby girl, then all I can
say is you’re going to do what you want in the end regardless of what I say
here now.” I reach my arm out and pull her closer to me. “But for someone at
your age, it’s not going to feel the way it will when you’re older. It can’t.
There’s too much inexperience there and if you’re lucky, you’ll get a whole two
minutes out of it. Do you really want to waste your first time on two minutes?”
There’s really no point in going with the
save your body for the right one,
love will conquer all speech
. She’s too smart for that. I have to be logical.
“Besides, there are other ways to deal with that need and if not, just don’t
put yourself in those situations.”

            Jasmine picks her head up
off of my chest and look at me sideways. Lips turned to the side, she barks out
a laugh. “You can’t be serious. Touch myself like an internet perv?”

            I giggle at the
comparison. “It’s nothing like that and nothing wrong with it either. Many
people do it and hell, I do it sometimes.”

            She stays quiet for a
second then answers, “Maybe I’ll try it, but what if I still want to do it with
Justin? What if I can’t trust myself?”

            “You are going to still
want to do it, but it’ll help those urges. You’re human, you’re hormonal,” I
shrug.  “The thing is to recognize situations that may put you at a greater
risk to make a mistake and then to not make those decisions to be in those
situations.”

            We continue to talk for
another hour or so about her life as well as mine. By the time I buy us ice
cream, I really feel good about myself. I have to make more dates to spend time
with her because if I don’t, someone will take advantage of her beauty and
hormonal teenage lust.

Chapter Two

           
B
y 9:00p.m., I’m changing into my swimsuit getting ready
for my nightly swim workout before my daddy comes home to practice a bit of
martial arts with me. I had never really learned them growing up and that was
something that he regretted not teaching me. I had always felt I was too girly
for martial arts and wanted to dance instead. At the time, we compromised by me
getting into the water. Now, he wonders why he even compromised with a four
year old in the first place. My dad, he could hold his own among businessmen
and even the president, but up against me, there had never been any contest.

            My routine is to do three
miles at the very least, and depending on my stress level, I sometimes do more.
I always make sure one of the staff is on-site just in case something happens.
That was a promise I made to my mom, knowing full well if I didn’t keep it,
she’d drain the pool in a heartbeat. No, my mom and I do not see eye to eye on
a lot of things, but I never doubt her love for me or her need for my safety.
We just live in two separate worlds and in hers, appearances are everything.