Page 2 of Crash

My mind flashes back to the day we met. It was before I knew of the connection between our families. The meeting was a random event in a parking lot with a stranger. I’ve imagined it a thousand different ways, and I’ve concluded that the youngest Clark is still an asshole.

When I found out he was the brother of my cousin’s fiancé, he tortured me by making a giant dog chase me around his father’s yard. That was after he caused me to fall, which he never apologized for.

I’ve seen him several times since only to be subjected to his dirty looks and taunts. The last time I saw him was at the bridal shower, and even though I can’t prove it, I’m convinced he was the one who put prosciutto in my purse, which caused the dogs to follow me around the entire day. Zeus, Jake’s giant bullmastiff, jumped on me and started to chew my purse.

The dog knocked me completely on my back, and all Luke Clark did was stand there and laugh, offering me no help. It was when I started to scream that Jake came and grabbed Zeus and put him out of the house.

I had a torn purse and smelled of dog drool. The smug look Luke gave me as I walked past him did not go unnoticed by me.

As much as I enjoyed parts of the shower, he made certain aspects of it unbearable. First, he was never far away from me. I don’t know if he did it to unnerve me, but every time I looked in his direction, his eyes were on me. He was either sitting close by or standing close enough to hear any conversation I might have had.

“Daddy’s not letting you go to the bachelorette party? I thought an independent woman such as yourself wouldn’t let a man dictate what you do. All talk, little girl,” he had taunted when he overheard Tash complaining about my father not letting me go to New York for the weekend for Sandy’s bachelorette party.

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” I hissed. I could feel the color in my face. I looked over at Tash, who was still complaining about my father, and wished she’d just be quiet for now.

“Is that all you have, suffragette? Or should I say, wannabe suffragette? All talk and no action.”

The bastard then swiped a meatball from my plate and walked away before I could think of a scathing reply. I spent the rest of the shower angry and ashamed because part of what he said was true. I had no recourse. Not yet.

I shake my head, deciding to put that weekend and Lucas Clark out of my mind. This is my cousin’s wedding, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of this fabulous weekend.

“Oh my god,” I say when we finally step into the backyard—or should I say garden. The most beautiful garden filled with every shade of pink rose on earth. The roses are everywhere, in every type of vase imaginable. The yard is filled with round tables covered in crisp white tablecloths. Beyond the tables is an infinity pool that looks as if it is flowing directly into the Atlantic Ocean.

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Tash whispers to me. I realize my mouth is open, and I quickly shut it as I grab another glass of champagne from a passing server. “Check out our bride,” Tash says, pointing at Sandy.

Sandy is standing between Jake and her mom, absolutely glowing in a white strapless retro 1950’s style swing dress, reminiscent of one worn by Audrey Hepburn. She has a wreath of miniature pink roses around her head and a string of pearls around her throat. She completes her outfit with a pair of light pink stilettos.

When she sees us, she comes over to hug us, visibly relieved that some more of her family has started to arrive. We’re introduced to members of the Clark family, some business associates, and their neighbors from the area.

While Sandy and Jake work the room, I stick close to Chris and Tash. Mrs. Clark, in her infinite wisdom, has a separate party for the children, complete with their own menu, childcare, and entertainment, leaving the adults free to mingle.

As I look around the room, my eyes land on the only hateful member of Jake’s family. As if sensing my eyes on him, he turns around, eyeing me up and down before meeting my gaze. He takes a sip of his champagne, never breaking our gaze. His pink tongue pokes out as he licks his bottom lip, and I reluctantly admit that the bastard is handsome. He’s tall and muscular with beautiful green eyes. Like everyone else, he’s in a white linen outfit. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and even from across the room, I can see his smooth, tanned skin. His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks me over. Because this is my cousin’s wedding and because I’m determined to have an incredible few days, I decide to be an adult and smile at him, but before I can do that, he sticks out his middle finger and pretends to rub the side of his nose. God, I hate that bastard! I make an L with my thumb and index finger and put it on my forehead. He snorts and turns his back to me.

I seethe at his antics. When my cousin, Steve, arrives with other members of our family, I quickly attach myself to him, and we spend the next hour laughing, eating, and people watching. We sneak drinks whenever the adults in our family turn their backs, but when a group of young women arrives, Steve leaves my side and approaches them.

“Hey, beautiful,” I hear someone with a slight Caribbean accent a few minutes later. I turn around to find a very handsome guy wearing a chef’s uniform. “I’m Byron.” He offers me his hand, and when I shake it, he kisses the top of mine, causing me to blush.

“I’m Vivienne, cousin of the bride.”

“Ah. The bride better be careful. Her cousin is even more beautiful than she is.”

Unsure of how to take the compliment, I simply smile.

“Are you the chef?” I ask.

“My father is,” he says, pointing at an older man. “I’m the sous chef for tonight. We own a restaurant in the Back Bay.” He pulls out a card from his pocket and hands it to me. “We are going to give you the best Caribbean food the Boston area has to offer. Do you like it hot, beautiful?” He winks at me when he asks that question.

“Very,” I say back, looking at him in the eye.

Behind me, I hear a cough. When I turn around to see who it is, I notice it’s Luke. Unconcerned about him choking, I turn my back on him and focus on Byron.

“Come and check me out sometime. Just ask for Byron.” He smiles, showing off perfect white teeth as he walks away. I slide the card in my little white purse and decide right then and there that I’ll be calling him sometime next week.

When I look up, Luke has gotten closer to me, and just like every other time we’re in the same space, his intense gaze meets mine, but only for a second. He looks from me to past where I am, and when I look behind me, I notice he’s looking at Byron, giving him the hateful look he usually reserves for me. Eager to get away from him, I flip him the bird and walk away.

Dinner is a decadent variety of seafood, complete with grilled and boiled lobster. For non-seafood eaters, they also serve chicken and steak. I find the table with my close family, but while I’m walking in that direction, I find Luke talking with Byron. When I get closer to them, Luke points at me, leans down, and whispers something in Byron’s ear.

Based on the widening of Byron’s eyes, I know whatever Luke told him was not good. His smile is victorious as he walks over and plants his big body at the table right behind mine, putting our chairs back to back. I deliberately do not interact with anyone at his table, but I know he deliberately kept pushing his chair into mine. Having had enough of his shit, I ask Steve to switch chairs with me, and miraculously, the idiot didn’t bump into the chair anymore after that. While dessert is being set up and Byron and his father break down their station, I approach.

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