Page 1 of The Hellcat Barbies: Saskia
Chapter One
RUN-A-WAY BRIDE
Saskia “Sass” Coy
If you’re reading this, my darling, it means I’m no longer on earth. I have many regrets in my life, but creating, loving, and raising you will never be one of them. Parenting as a single father didn’t come with instructions. I never learned how to comb hair, and I was grateful when you were born with three strands of hair that wouldn’t grow in the first few years, no matter how many creams and oils I bought. Then, out of nowhere, you became Rapunzel, and I was just as lost as you were with the maintenance. Those bad lungs from years of smoking didn’t allow me to play outside with you for long, no matter how much you begged me to stay a little longer. I didn’t know how to pick out age-appropriate gowns for your dances and proms. I didn’t know what to do when you ran into my bedroom with wide eyes and blood-stained sheets. There were many things I didn't know, Saskia, but still, you loved me anyway.
You never complained when I took you to the hair salon every week. You didn’t judge me for hiring a nanny to play with you. You enjoyed every time I had to fly us out to meet with a designer to make sure your dresses were perfect. Just the twoof us created a beautiful, imperfect life. No matter how spoiled I had you, you still went off to college and pursued your dreams. A cardiovascular perfusionist! I remember the day you became interested in the human heart. I’d had a heart attack and nearly passed that on to you too. Two open-heart surgeries later and many nights in the hospital, my little girl had a new life goal: to be in the operating room controlling her daddy’s heart. Fortunately, this pacemaker has done its job, so you never had to operate on your old man. But you didn’t need scrubs and an Operating Room to control my heart. You’ve been doing that since the day you were born. It’s always just been the two of us, kiddo, and my life’s mission has always been to protect you and give you the best of everything.
I know my little girl—meaning, you’re still a single woman.
So, in my last will and testament, I have a proposal. You are to marry—not just anyone, but a client of mine. Don’t panic! If my lawyer has given you this letter instead of another, it means life has caught up with me. I’ve been an attorney your entire life, but I’ve also gotten involved with people I shouldn’t have. Marrying my client will ensure your safety. He owes me a huge debt and knows what he must do after my murder. Take this man as your husband, and as soon as you do, my fortune will be handed over to you. Don’t hate me, Sassy. I’m doing this because I love you, and I want you to live to see your dreams unfold. I want you to give your children the one thing I was never able to give you—a mother.
—P.S. If I missed your graduation, I’m so sorry. I love you! My lawyer will give you the next step.
“Now, how am I supposed to do your makeup if you won’t stop the tears?”
The MUA tsked while pressing a napkin into my tear duct. I didn’t have the energy to smile at Bruna, so the least I could do was keep my mind off memory lane. Each time I thought aboutthe letter that landed me in this dreadful position, I cried. The lash extensions felt heavier now from the constant flow of tears, and since Chimo had my hands underneath the UV light so my nails could dry, I couldn’t fan them away. I wouldn’t, though. I’d let the tears run and run until this entire bridal suite was flooded and the flower arrangements that decorated every inch of the space drowned.
The mist from the sheen being sprayed in my hair by Lunar, the hairstylist, hung in the air and smelled of fresh mangoes. I loved mangoes, but at this moment, I hated them deeply. Any other woman would have loved to be pampered, especially on the eve of her wedding. Four knocks on the door of the home I shared with my father— the one he’d worked so hard to build for us, the one he was constantly told was too big for just him and me—signaled that this was the end. I was escorted to the back of a black truck and driven to this blueberry farm. It wasn’t like an old McDonald’s farm, though. There wasn’t a red barn or an animal in sight. Lush green pastures stretched for miles on what had to be at least fifty-plus acres. From what I could see, through the chaos of vendors and florists carrying in what was to be my wedding décor, I spotted at least two lakes.The location was like a dream, just notmydream. I’d never verbally told anyone what I wanted my wedding to look like. Those were thoughts that lingered in my mind on those late nights when studying got the best of me. I’d wished I had, though. I wished someone knew exactly what I wanted because, although this was nice, they had missed the mark.
Four years of undergraduate studies, two years of graduate school, and twenty-five months of cardiovascular perfusionist training. The last seven years of my life have been filled with late nights, early mornings, and time spent with my father. Being a bride was far from my mind. I’d never even had a serious boyfriend. There was Jack, the guy who took my virginity incollege—being chased off by my father and never heard from again—and Boston, whom I met in graduate school and who gave me a few toe-curling orgasms. They were the only male companions I’d had, and neither of them was husband material. Still, I thought about what I wanted my wedding to look like, and although I never cared enough to make a Pinterest board or curate a detailed plan, this was nowhere near how I would have envisioned it.
Everything was bright and spacious. I initially wandered around the property out of boredom and curiosity. One building would host the reception, another the ceremony, and the cocktail hour would take place on the lawn. Even from my chair, I could see workers dressed in black assembling floral arches. The building I was in was the bridal suite, and I didn’t dare go near the groom’s lounge. When I saw the sign on the door, I about-faced and ran right into the trio, trying their best to make me look my best.
There was no proposal or engagement dinner. I didn’t even know my fiancé’s name or what he looked like. I hadn’t spoken to the guy at all! My father’s lawyer had been handling everything. I’d been brought here a day early because my glam team was supposed to be practicing their best look on me. They were on their third attempt, and although the previous two were just as perfect as this one, I didn’t care either way.
My father was taken from me thirty days ago. He did indeed miss my graduation, but it didn’t matter that he had been in the front row for the previous two. The one that truly mattered was the final graduation. I had passed my state board exam one week before graduation. The only thing standing between me and starting my career was actually walking across the stage. I had already applied and interviewed at several hospitals. In the final months of school, scouts from all over the country came to Sparkling City to interview the top twenty students. I wasamong the top two, and not just number two. I had no desire to take a job outside my hometown, but I still entertained their visits. I’d been so happy on those days—everything I sacrificed, all my hard work, and all my stressful days finally paid off. That morning, I went to the school without my daddy, since the students had to arrive two hours early. I’d been feeling butterflies since the night before, but throughout, it was more than nerves—it was a premonition.
I knew something bad would happen. When I didn’t see my father the moment I took my seat after the walk-in, I knew he wouldn’t show. Police were waiting for me as soon as the ceremony was over, escorting me to see the bullet that had pierced through my father’s head. I’d never forget the blood-soaked shirt he had made, covered with pictures of me from every stage of life. It was a ridiculous thing, especially since he paired the shirt with slacks and loafers, but that’s the kind of man my father was. He was all about me. He was good. He was the best damn defense attorney Sparkling City has ever seen, and with his 99.9 percent success rate, I knew he’d made plenty of enemies during his career.
So, here I was in a grand suite that was just as empty as the groom’s seemed when I found the building, but the difference in ours was that I had a glam team I’d only met a few hours earlier. I was surrounded by more unfamiliar faces who were unaware of my pain. Well, I hadn’t stopped sulking and crying since I sat in the vintage chair that looked like it was made for a bride, with its silky tufts and gold carvings, so I knew the glam team was well aware of my misery. Still, they had been nothing but cheerful and had even cracked a few jokes now and then. Yet, through their smiles, I caught the sly looks they shared among each other.
As a detail-oriented person, there wasn’t much that could slip past me. As a cardiovascular perfusionist, it was my jobto pay close attention to detail. I hadn’t yet secured a job in the field, but to succeed, missing even the smallest thing could mean the difference between someone’s life and death. My father called me his human heart since I was a small child, and ironically, that’s exactly what I’d grown up to be. I’d been trained to operate, maintain, and record the output of a cardiopulmonary bypass machine. In short, a cardiovascular perfusionist operates and monitors the heart-lung machine to ensure blood flow, oxygenation, and temperature during surgery. Detail was my strength, so the glam team’s communication through their eyes couldn’t be missed, even through my flow of tears.
I wasn’t sure if my new husband would let me work or even if we’d be living in a city that was hiring perfusionists. I didn’t know what my life would look like after tomorrow. I had no idea what my husband looked like. Being one hundred percent African American who had only been with black men, I’d always said that when I did settle down, it would be with my own kind. My father had all types of clients, and even though society often paints black men as the most criminal, he had more clients from other races than black men. And it wasn’t because they couldn’t afford him. I grew up in the suburbs surrounded by black doctors, investors, and CEOs— even went to private school with other black kids. I’d searched my father’s office, going through case files that were probably illegal to look at, just to see if I could find a clue about who this guy was. The more I looked, the more anxious I became because no one fit the description of who I saw myself being tied to for the rest of my life. I’d been fed a silver spoon my entire life; I hadn’t even gotten a parking ticket, so my father handing me over to a criminal was beyond anything I imagined. Still, I went along with it, and even though I had doubts, I trusted my father. Up until now. Feeling the saliva grow thick and slimy in my mouth, I stood abruptly.
All three men, dressed in an array of fashion pieces that must have come from someone’s capsule wardrobe. The dramatic bell sleeves, sheer tops, leather pants, and platform shoes—all in black—made the already couture-like men stand out among the pinks, creams, and whites of the bridal suite.
“Could you... could you give me a minute?”
Bruna and Chimo looked at Lunar, communicating with their eyes again, and then averted their attention back to me.
“Of course, baby doll. We are pretty much done for the day.”
Lunar spread the photos they’d taken of all three looks on the vanity in front of me. In each picture, my eyes were glossy, and my nose was pink without any blush being added to it.
Take your time examining the looks. We’ll be back here in the morning to finish up. For what it's worth, you’re just as beautiful without it as you are with it. Get some rest, and remember that he,” Lunar pointed to the cathedral ceiling, “has a plan for everything. It’s already worked out in your favor.
Each man gave me air kisses and packed up just as fast as they’d come, leaving me in my beautiful suite a beautiful mess.
Now that I had them gone, I walked around the room. This couldn’t be my life. Fear and anger twisted inside me with every step I took. My father was supposed to be here—to love me, to keep living with me, and for me to ask him what the hell he had been thinking. I didn’t need a man to take care of me. Yes, I’d been spoiled right up until the end, but I’d always wanted to be just like my father—a go-getter. Someone who stayed up late going over case files and got up early heading to the office. I chose a field just as challenging as the one my father thrived in, and I felt like the craving for exhaustion was genetic.I didn’t need anyone to provide for me. When I landed a job, I’d be making one hundred and eighty thousand dollars a year, and that’s an average salary. As I gained more experience, I’d beearning three hundred grand—eventually half a million a year. I could take care of myself.
When I started to feel dizzy, I stopped pacing. I had never been this unnerved before. I sensed unsettling tremors within my calm. I wasn’t built for this. Despite all my years of learning and training, I’d never been prepared for something likethis. The scent of flowers made me lightheaded, and I felt as if someone had been playing a cruel game on me. My father might have been the one to tell my groom-to-be that pink was my favorite color. I inherited that from my mother. She died on her birthing bed. My father entered the hospital as part of a trio and left as a duo.
Still, he kept pictures of her all around our home my entire life. My favorite was her in her wedding dresses. She wore four at their extravagant wedding that would put Princess Diana’s to shame. Looking at the three dresses on mannequins in front of me, I was told to pick my favorite one by one of the guards who dumped me here. Just looking at them made me scoff. My father didn’t give my mother options to choose from. She was dramatic enough to wear four, and each was a different shade of pink. This person didn’t know me. If he did, he’d know I also wanted to change dresses, but one of the options would be any one of my mother’s dresses that my father had carefully kept in the basement.
Running my freshly done oval-shaped nails adorned with tiny pearl beads down the middle of each finger along the gown, the silk fabric felt cool against my skin. This Lead Da Gloria dress featured a sweetheart corset and a drop waist. The coat was heavy, and a train flowed behind it.It had been perfectly crafted and fit the headless mannequin flawlessly. I could tell it would also look good with my 5’5", 145-pound frame, but it was missing something.
