From tormented tides fro.., p.21
From Tormented Tides (From Tormented Tides series Book 1), page 21
“Oh my gosh! I almost forgot. Today is the showcase, right?”
“Yeah.” I took a breath. “But I think I’m gonna back out. I’m just not ready.”
“What?” She nearly knocked the chair over trying to stand up. “Don’t be a slacker like me. You’ve been working on that painting for too long not to put it in the showcase.”
“I know, I know. But I’ve just got so much to think about. My mom’s been weird lately, and I’m kind of worried about her. I have to leave in the morning for a flight back to Arkansas, which is probably for the best. I need to see her. Besides, I don’t even have anything to wear.”
“Oh, well I’m sorry about your mom, but not showing off your amazing work isn’t going to fix her.” McKenzie, now standing, pulled me up from my seat by linking my arm with hers. “And pshhhh! Don’t worry about not having anything to wear. Do you know me at all?”
She practically dragged me to her room, and I stumbled trying to keep up with her.
“Stand here. We are pretty much the same size. Remember Halloween? That angel costume fit you like a glove.”
I silently shuddered at the memory of the Halloween party. The event that marked the beginning of this wild saga I had been secretly living each night, and it was still as clear in my memory as when it happened.
“Okay,” I agreed, curious to see what McKenzie was getting at. She was rummaging through her closet with the eyes of a hawk, whipping her analytic gaze over each piece of clothing as she slid them along the rack.
“I think I may have the perfect thing. I bought it for a debutante ball at the country club last year, but I ended up wearing something else. It just didn’t quite feel right on me. I think you’ll like it.”
My eyes lit up at the gown my roommate pulled from her closet and held up before me. I was no fashionista, but I could certainly recognize a high-end dress when I saw one.
The sleek sterling evening gown glittered like the night stars as she flipped it back and forth in her hands. I was yearning to try it on, to my own surprise. I had never seen such a gorgeous thing.
“Let’s see it!” She tossed the dress towards me like it was a T-shirt, hanger, and all.
I handled it as delicately as possible, admiring the extravagant diamond beading covering nearly every inch of fabric that dazzled in even the faintest light. I pulled the garment from the hanger and quickly stripped down to my underwear. McKenzie wandered over to help me pull the gown up over myself and zip up the back. Then she stepped back and grabbed my arms, positioning me in front of her full-length mirror.
My mouth hung open at the sight. The dress enhanced every gentle curve I possessed, hugging my figure all the way down to my thighs, where it then gently blossomed out into a cascade of glittering silver fabric that brushed the floor like a waterfall. It reminded me of the ocean in moonlight.
“You’re a queen.” McKenzie grinned.
I turned to her, speechless.
“Don’t you dare say you’re not going. No excuses now! Milo’s not going to be able to keep his hands off you when he sees you in this.”
“Oh.” My excitement was suddenly dampened at the reminder that Milo wouldn’t be there. “He’s not coming.”
“What?” McKenzie’s aqua eyes flashed. “Douchebag alert. He stays the night and then can’t even go to your art gala?”
“No, it’s not that,” I mumbled. “He just can’t make it. It’s a…family thing.”
McKenzie raised an eyebrow, and I knew she wasn’t buying it. Crossing her arms, she just said “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but watch out. You were worried about that Bellamy guy just wanting to get in your pants, but I think it might be Milo you need to be careful with. Just sayin’.”
I knew McKenzie had no idea what was really going on, but I still felt a pang when she talked so negatively about Milo. And as if my mind wasn’t already a swirling whirlpool of confusion already, she only added to it with her statements. She had made her way over to her dresser mirror and was carefully applying mascara as she spoke. “Whatever happened to Bellamy anyway?”
“That’s a good question.” I winced, twisting my arm to reach the zipper behind my own back. “I said something to him that I shouldn’t have, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“Aw, that sucks,” McKenzie made a little pout as she tucked her mascara wand back into her makeup bag.
“Yeah. Guys. What are you gonna do?”
Pirates. What are you gonna do?
“Well, you know I would totally be your date if I didn’t have to head back home tonight. Surfside is almost a 5 hour drive.”
“I know. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl. I can handle it on my own.” I brushed my hair aside and chuckled as I wiggled back into my jeans and T-shirt.
“Katrina, if you don’t go, I’m going to hold it over you for the rest of our lives. And I want at least one picture as proof.”
McKenzie was raking at the desire deep within me to go, and I could feel myself giving in for real. I truly did want to go, but it just felt so unimportant compared to everything else going on behind the scenes.
“Okay, okay! You’ve convinced me. But that means I need to leave yesterday to get the painting set up.”
Hustling back to my room, I peeled the tape off the edges and carefully placed the paper into a leather case. I dashed out the door and down to the Cherokee, checking the tires out of paranoia. I could have walked there just as easily, but I had no time to lose. Gala submissions were supposed to be ready and on display by 10 AM. It was 9:40.
On the way to the venue, my stomach did flips, and the road seemed to rise and fall like waves. I felt guilty for being here when Mom was back home falling apart, and Milo was about to risk his skin for me. But McKenzie was right. What could I do about any of that right now?
I turned the wheel toward Valencia Grand Hall. This particular building of the school had once been a hotel for the elite in decades past, and it was now open to the public as a tourist attraction when it wasn’t being used to host the school’s extravagant events or being rented out for high-end weddings.
I didn’t have many reasons to venture to this area of the campus often, so it was an entirely new world for me as I hurried across the gleaming cobblestone pathway, around the elaborate marble fountain and up the clean white steps into the ballroom. As I entered the building, still catching my breath, my eyes took in the sight of people scurrying to and fro, ensuring the finishing touches were in place as they prepared for the evening. I walked up to the rectangular table in the corner where a lady with a perm piled high on her head and thin lips sat with a pile of papers and a sign that read “Artist Check-In.”
“Hi, I’m Katrina Delmar,” I stepped up to the table, scanning the papers for my name.
“You just about missed your chance, hun.” Though she looked a bit like she had just tasted something sour, her extreme southern drawl sweetened her face.
“I know. I’m sorry for being late.”
“Well, you’re only almost late. And that still counts,” she shuffled some papers around as I scribble my signature on a line on the page. “Looks like you got spot #24.”
“Where is that exactly?”
The lady pointed with her pen to the hallway next to her.
“Right through those double doors on the left. That’s where the artwork displays and the silent auction will be.”
I nodded and followed her directions. Painting in hand, I pushed through the lane wooden doors to find a wide-open room carpeted in scarlet and gold, with art displays lined up along the wall and a few placed throughout the rest of the room museum-style. It didn’t take me long to find my empty spot, as most of the other displays were already filled. I pulled out my painting and placed it in the glass frame that sat on a pedestal near the end of the room.
My soul swelled with pride as I stepped back to admire the little painting that had started out so simply and yet had come to mean so much to me. I was glad that I had been able to show it to Milo the night before, but I silently wished that he could be there to see it underneath the shining display lights in this grand place. But I knew it’d be best to stop wishing for such impossible things to avoid disappointment. The goal here was to show off my artwork, nothing more. I reminded myself that this was why I came to Florida in the first place—to find new beginnings and start my art career, not fall in love with a pirate.
25
Rogue Wave
I returned to my dorm to get ready for the evening. McKenzie insisted on helping with my hair and makeup before she left for home, however I called dibs on the eyeshadow. My painting skills transferred over quite easily when it came to blending colors into my sun kissed olive skin.
With a careful hand, I worked the brush over my eyelids to create a natural shadow that enhanced my dark eyes, with just the faintest touch of shimmer to match the dress. I watched my reflection, hardly recognizing the elegant girl in the mirror. My hair cascaded down my back in a frenzy of loose coils pinned half-up by an ornate twist in the middle. And of course, the look wouldn’t have been complete without the silvery mermaid scale hanging around my neck. Ironically, it looked almost as if it was made for the sparkling ensemble.
“Ugghhh, I am seriously considering just driving home tomorrow so I can go with you tonight.” McKenzie squealed, doing an excited little sorority squat. “You look gorgeous.”
I reassured her one last time that I would be fine attending alone. I didn’t plan to stay long anyway. I would simply show up, stand in front of my painting for the start of the showcase long enough for the silent auction to get rolling, and then I’d leave to get myself mentally prepared for the heist on the pirate ship later.
“Thanks for being my fairy godmother.” I smiled sweetly at McKenzie as we said our goodbyes. Hugging her, I truly hoped that the next time I saw her my world would be less complicated and I wouldn’t have to feel like I was hiding half of myself from her.
“You know I’ve always got you, boo.” She was teasing, but there was sincerity in her voice. She really was a wonderful friend, and right then I realized how profoundly grateful I was for her. No matter how things turned out, I felt encouraged knowing at least my sweet, bubbly roommate would still be part of the deal.
The last thing she did before walking out the door was whip out that vintage Polaroid camera, press her cheek against mine, and snap a picture of our grinning faces. She handed me the printout and all I could think about was Bellamy and how he had held the picture of me on our “date.” I had so much to blame on that stupid little camera.
The minutes crept near to six-thirty. In the late autumn, night came early, so the golden glow of sunset was already fading to midnight blue when I arrived at the showcase. I slid out of the driver's seat, my dress slinking across the floorboards behind me. There was no way I intended to walk the four blocks from East Side to the Grand Hall in the heels strapped to my feet. I’d brought a change of clothes, because I didn’t know how long I could survive in them.
Mostly juniors and seniors, the other artists were arriving in similar fashion in their exquisite gowns and pricey suits. Though I looked the part easily enough for tonight, I was not one of them. As I watched the Porsches and BMWs rolling in, I felt a twinge of embarrassment at my beat-up old Jeep with a patched-up tire. It was moments like this that reminded me just how life-altering one scholarship had been.
Scurrying past other guests, I made it my mission to simply get to my artwork quickly and take a picture for Dad. The fountain from earlier now served as the centerpiece of the entrance with gold lights strung above, hanging in drapes like curtains of fireflies. I lifted my dress to walk up the stairs, careful not to bump into any of the other gala attendees.
When I entered the ballroom, my jaw dropped at the glamour before me. I stopped with wide eyes as I shifted in my stiletto heels to keep from slipping on the polished floor. The area that had merely been a half-decorated venue this morning was now transformed into a fairytale setting. The shiny floor reflected the glistening lights of the massive chandelier overhead. Sophisticated archways lined the walls alternating between strong white columns of marble. A gentle melody of violins teased my ears over the chatter of the room. The hotel’s history was manifested in this elegant display like nothing else I’d seen, and I could have believed for a moment that I had stepped back into the 19th century.
I weaved through the guests as delicately as possible, making my way to the silent auction room down the hall. When I got there, the bid sheet next to my piece already had a couple of offers, but I didn’t even look at them. Thirty percent of the winning bid would go to the school, and the artist would pocket the rest. but I assumed my offers would be too low this early to really make a difference, so I didn’t even bother looking. It was really the least of my worries.
As I stood by my work, sending a picture to Dad of the watercolor on canvas, people would stop and ask if I was the artist, or if I could explain the technique I used on the starlight across the water, or how long it had taken me to paint.
One stunningly beautiful woman who looked like a middle-aged millionaire stopped and lingered for a while, running her piercing eyes over the painting what seemed like a hundred times. Her thick hair was raven black, pinned up elegantly atop her head. She glittered with jewels and her silk blue dress rippled like liquid as she walked, reminding me of the sea. She finally spoke, introducing herself as the owner of a wealthy beach club and marina.
“I’d love to have such a piece in one of my resorts,” she said, her delicate, lofty tone reminding me of the dramatic way 1940s movie stars used to speak.
“Thank you. I’m flattered. Of course, you can bid on it at the auction if you’d like.” I smiled.
“Of course.”
She studied the painting once more, and finally asked me where I had found the inspiration for such a piece. I hadn’t prepared an answer, but I did my best to explain that I had met a friend who explained the stars to me in a way I couldn’t forget, and I wanted to remember him through the painting.
If only it was truly that simple. If only I could somehow put into words the way the North Star in the painting represented the guiding light I longed for, and that one peaceful night where all my cares had drifted away under the stars with Milo. The lighthouse was a symbol of hope when everything seemed darkest, and the girl on the pier was the lonely figure watching it all, praying that star and lighthouse would be enough to keep her from going under as the night tide closed in around her.
The woman simply nodded and moved on, moving like liquid into the crowd. I felt myself blush with embarrassment. I probably sounded like a complete idiot trying to explain it to her. And it left a bad taste on my tongue. My conscious no longer felt at ease being there. My stomach turned and I wanted to escape, knowing there were much more important things to be dealing with right now. Being there, especially alone, just felt wrong.
I decided to leave the auction room to get one last glimpse of the ballroom before leaving for the night. All the glittering enchantment around me couldn’t mask the troubles drowning me inside as I stood there alone. With one last glance at my painting, I made my way back to the ballroom.
Pushing through the throng of people, I headed for the door, but stopped still when I heard a familiar voice say my name from behind. A sensation of ice water trickled in my chest before I found the courage to look back. And that’s when I fully turned around to see him standing there amongst the sparkling crowd—Bellamy.
26
To the Bitter End
He took a step toward me. Everything around me froze. I wondered if I had passed him earlier. But there was no way. How could I have missed him if that was so? He was devastatingly handsome in the dark suit he wore, holding the jacket over his shoulder in a casual fashion.
He held his ice blue eyes on me, walking towards me like a prowling panther. I fumbled for words. I never had the chance to apologize for accusing him of killing Serena, and I didn’t know how deeply I had wounded him. Why on earth was he here?
I watched his gaze drop from mine to my neck. Quickly, I reached up to cover my necklace. Surely, he wouldn’t try to take it in a place like this, not with all these people. As he approached me, I tilted my head upward to meet his eyes, the top of my head reaching just above his chin.
“Don’t worry,” his voice smoothed over me as he took the hand that covered my necklace in his. “I’m not here for that this time.”
“Then what are you here for?” I asked.
“You.”
I could barely hear his soft whisper over the melody of violins. He reached for my other hand with a gentle motion and guided me towards him.
“I’m a terrible dancer.” I bit my lip, turning my head away. I couldn’t look him in the eyes any longer. I was too bothered by what I had last said to him.
“And a terrible judge of character.”
My gaze dropped to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I said “I had no idea. What happened to you was…”
“I can’t really blame you for being suspicious. After all, only a fool trusts a pirate.” He smirked with a wink.
Before I could gather a response, my footsteps were following his along the dance floor, slowly stepping in time with the music.
“You’re not so bad,” he chuckled, glancing down between us.
“I’m just following your lead.”
“Good.” His eyes darkened. “Where else would you follow me?”
I took a breath and felt a shiver across my bare shoulders as I felt him trying to get inside my head. “What are you saying?”
He leaned in and lowered his voice as we swayed in rhythm. “You seemed to have let Milo really corrupt that pretty head of yours. I can see he’s got you eating from the palm of his hand. Sneaking onto the ship? He’s going to get you killed. If it wasn’t for me, I have no doubt they would’ve found you by now. I’m the one protecting you, not him.”
