Page 51 of Lavender and Lightning

As I’d predicted, the mixer is in full swing by this point in the day. The DJ is playing party staples, and there are plenty of people in their business attire getting their groove on. We spot Wila picking over the buffet and chatting with the caterer, an older man I recognize from other events here. Gabby and I order our fruity cocktails, standing along the edge of the room, out of the way while we people watch.

“Oh my God. Are you Lydia Anderson?”

I freeze at the nasally voice, spine curling into a defensive position. Of all the places, how could I possibly be recognized here? I turn around to see a group of three women, all of them attendees by the way they're dressed, moving in closer. They’re all beautiful, of course. Lean muscle and shapely curves with similar trendy haircuts and spiked heels. I scent Caleb before I see him, snickerdoodles and cedar growing stronger as he steps within arm’s reach of me.

“I’m sorry. Have we met?” I reply pleasantly.

“No, but we saw your picture in the paper. You’re Mateo’s new thing,” the woman in the center remarks, her massive statement necklace catching the colored lights from the DJ booth distractingly.

The way her voice wraps around that last word does not make it sound like a compliment. Even still, my heart does a little skip to have my relationship with him acknowledged. The primal part of my mind preens, and I have to resist the urge to snicker triumphantly, like I’m gloating over a win of some kind. Mateo is a person, not a prize.

“And we follow Seth’s fitness blog. His workouts are goals,” the woman on the right continues, tossing a few strands of her blonde hair over one shoulder.

“Ladies, I think it’d be for the best if you return to the party,” Caleb interrupts, stepping around me to partially shield me from them.

“Oh, who are you?” the third one practically purrs, and I have to hold back a gag. It’s not that I thought it was wrong of her to make a move, but subtlety is an art, one she clearly hasn’t studied.

“Unavailable. Now, if you don’t mind—”

“Seth was totally right. You really don’t fight your own battles,” the first snipes with a fake giggle.

The other two titter along, and I feel my face go hot as my grip tightens on my glass. It shouldn’t bother me, because it’s not like she’s saying anything that I haven’t heard from the man himself. But it just confirms my fear that there are people, strangers, that talk about me and my life without ever having met me.

“Hey, bitch. Keep it up, and we’ll see how good you are at fighting your battles,” Gabby snarls, advancing a step toward them.

The women gasp in unison, and all start squawking their indignation. I manage to catch Gabby’s arm to stop her from following through with her threat, and Caleb squares his shoulders in front of us.

“This is your last warning. If you don’t leave, I will be forced to assume you mean to do Ms. Anderson harm, and take appropriate countermeasures,” he says, the most serious I’ve ever seen him.

“We’re so posting about this. I can’t believe you’ve got this meathead threatening us like this,” the blonde says, voice somehow more shrill.

“Enough. Leave,” he commands, taking a step toward them, gently trying to guide them away.

“You’re a fat fucking slut and not good enough for Mateo! I hope next time Seth tries, you get what’s coming to you!”

The world seems to slow as I watch the girl in black cock her arm back, ready to throw her drink like a baseball. But faster than I thought possible, Caleb is there, grabbing her wrist and twisting her arm until she drops the glass to the floor and shrieks in pain. The other two stumble back unsteadily on their heels, watching as Caleb maneuvers his target to the floor, face down, with her arm twisted behind her back.

“What’s going on here?”

I turn to see a woman with a headset approaching, a clipboard clutched tight to her chest. The event coordinator. I feel my hands shaking, the room getting fuzzy. Gabby steps up next to me and pulls me under one arm as Caleb gets up and explains the situation, but the sounds around me are starting to fade. I let Gabby guide me away, but I’m hardly aware of anything. It could be seconds or hours later when she sits me down in a chair and I feel a gentle pressure between my shoulder blades, guiding me to tuck my head between my knees.

“Just breathe, babe. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Gabby coos from nearby.

I feel her hand against my back, rubbing in slow circles. I count my inhales and exhales for several cycles until I scent wood and cookies nearby. Caleb’s voice comes into focus as he exchanges clipped, brusque words with someone, though I can’t make out the responses.

“Gabs, I’m sorry,” I whisper after a few moments.

“Shut the fuck up, babe. Those bitches had no right to bother you, and they got what was coming to them,” Gabby says with a scoff.

My lips quirk up in a smile before I take another deep breath. Steps approach, and Caleb’s scent grows stronger. I feel a hand on my knee, and I look up to find him crouched down to be at eye level with me. His brow is set in a stern line, but his eyes are soft.

“I just got off the phone with Ms. St. Clair. If it’s possible, she wants you to come home. Mr. Cooper and Mr. Hutchenson are at your pack house waiting for you,” he says.

I look up at Gabby, who sighs. I hate doing this, especially when we’re probably going to have a lot of work at the end of the night. She looks at me with understanding in her dark eyes, and I feel a twist of guilt in my gut.

“You can make it up to me with a girls’ night,” she says at last.

“I’ll even buy the booze,” I tease.

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