Here's Chapter Four-hope you enjoy!
Chapter Four
He'd watched her all night- from afar admiring the woman she'd become- beautiful and independent. Her golden waves hung over her shoulder secured with a diamond studded pin allowing her bangs to fall just above her right eye. Her eyelids were smoldering gray bringing out the amber delight of her eyes and her lips were a sizzling red. She'd wore a silver floor length gown- the sleeves stopping just past her shoulders and the neck line bearing the shape of a V. Her Bridesmaid dress was set apart from the other four bridesmaids all wearing strapless navy blue gowns that stopped just past their knees. Walking her down the aisle had been torture for him- standing in such proximity. He'd had the job of the best man and her the maid of honor which left him no choice in the matter.
After the ceremony he found himself nursing the bar in self-pity. There was nothing a glass of scotch couldn't fix. Occasionally he'd glance at the happy couple- Chris his best friend had never seemed any happier than he did today. He couldn't have hoped for a better outcome for the two of them. His lips lingered around the edge of the glass slowly allowing the brazen taste of scotch to seep into his mouth and down the back of his throat. He winced; the singe of alcohol tickling the walls of his mouth. He found his eyes on her again- her backside coming into view. He hadn't noticed until then that the back of her dress tastefully drooped down allowing her smooth milky skin to be seen. Mike darted his eyes away from her- away from that dress that forced his mind to wander in the impurities that made being a man hard. "This was Sam, only Sam," he recounted. Surely he could keep his thoughts in check if only for one night. He hadn't seen her in such a long time and to see her like this- in that dress he'd like better if it were off and those lips dressed seductively in red- was simply hard to ignore.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, finding the strength to tear his eyes away from her. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself; he'd die if she caught him looking at her- lusting after her like some hormonal teenager. He finished off the remaining scotch holding up his empty glass for the bartender to refill. She made eye contact with him, smiling as she retrieved his glass returning with a half-full glass of her very finest.
He welcomed her smile with a flirtatious one of his own, revealing a row of perfect white teeth.
"What do I owe you?" he asked leaning over the counter to ensure she could hear him over the music that filled the reception hall.
She leaned forward placing her elbows opposite his. Her blue eyes fixated on his- the corners of her mouth forming a slight curl.
"You could start by telling me your name."
Mike downed the rest of his scotch- the fourth of more to come.
"It's Mike," he answered rather smoothly holding her attention.
"Well Mike what are your plans afterwards? Care for some company?"
Mike felt a pair of hands on his shoulders- there was someone standing behind him.
"Oh I'm sorry hun but my man Mike here won't be needing your company," Chris teased in his best effeminate voice squeezing Mike's shoulders suggestively. "Scoot," he said once more waving his hand in a shooing motion.
The girl gave Mike a questioning glare expecting an explanation.
He shrugged his shoulders too embarrassed to say anything further feeling that the damage had been done.
The two men waited for the girl to awkwardly drift off to wait on someone else before the laughter ensued.
"Chris, man. What the hell?" said Mike slapping the blonder guy across the back as he joined him at the bar. "There goes the infinite rounds of free scotch."
"Dude everything's on us and the party isn't over until we say it is."
"Yeah that's great and all but you sort of just spoiled my plans for the after party."
Chris let out another series of insensitive laughter raising his hand to signal over the young bartender Mike was so smitten with.
"Hey, Mrs. Bartender lady, Chris hollered over the sound speakers. "My friend here wants you to know he is not gay. He's a lady lover unfortunately for me."
He made a sad face- his lips pouty and pink.
The girl laughed.
"Is that so?" she asked smiling at the two of them more so Mike who subconsciously returned her smile.
He couldn't stop himself from participating in a flirting match especially when his opponent was as adorable as she was.
"Hey I'm going to get back to the Mrs. She's been watching me like a hawk since I left her alone to entertain my mother."
Chris turned to the bartender.
"Go easy on my buddy here," he said before leaving them alone bumping into Emily as he turned to exit.
"I would be careful with this one hunny," she said menacingly taking a seat beside Mike. "He has a thing for guns and roses. Guns, Roses, and funerals."
"Hey don't listen to her," Mike pleaded reaching for her hand as she turned to walk away.
She pulled away from him.
"Weirdo," she exclaimed leaving him alone with Emily.
"Fuck," he screamed banging his two fists on the surface of the counter.
"What's the matter Mikey?" she giggled taking joy in his humiliation. "A little truth will set you free."
She placed her frail finger on his collar trailing it down his jaw line to the nape of his neck.
He flinched- her touch made his skin crawl.
There had been a time when he'd cared for her- might have even loved her once, but Emily had changed. She was even more of a Bitch now than she had ever been in high school. She'd left the mountain a different person- meaner- colder. There was nothing likeable or loveable about Emily now. He'd tried to forget what happened back on Blackwood Mountain- what he'd almost done to her in the midst of their nightmare- but she'd done everything she could to make his life as miserable as hers. She'd tried to press charges in the beginning and when that failed she filed a civil suit against him- she was the victim among all victims in the court room. She was the girl who'd nearly died after the satellite tower collapsed at the hands of her fallen boyfriend and the only one to have one of the group turn on her holding her at gunpoint. She had one hell of a sob story but without implicating the wendigo she could not prove probable cause. No one could understand why Mike Munroe would want to harm her, especially when all of their group pinned him as the hero. She'd lost.
"Fuck off Em!" he spat leaving her alone to wallow in self-misery.
He stormed out the exit of the reception hall- the cool breeze of fall stiff against his face. He was pissed. Emily still had a way of getting under his skin and she exploited it every chance she got. He ran a hand through his hair ruffling it out of place. He didn't care- he had no one to impress. He peered out into the night catching a glimpse of her sitting underneath a tree just beyond the reception hall. Her skin twinkled like little diamonds underneath the moonlight drawing him to her.
"Sam what are you doing out here all by yourself?" he asked finding a spot next to her on the ground.
She didn't answer at first, instead scooting closer to him so that her head was lateral to his shoulder.
He tried not to look down at her but his eyes followed as she positioned her head on his shoulder. Her eyeliner had begun to smear, he noticed. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes- they were so sad. He listened in the quiet- the noises of the city filling his eardrums with clatter.
"He should have been here."
Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper and yet the pain in her tone remained fierce and unmoved. Mike instinctively raised his arm inviting her to draw closer to him. She did burrowing herself in the comfort of his embrace.
"He was Chris's best friend and no matter how oblivious Chris had been to Ashley's subtle advances, Josh always sort of knew they would end up together," she confided in him.
"Yeah he would have made one hell of a best man speech, a lot better than I ever could."
She looked up at him- her brow furrowed in bewilderment.
"What do you mean? You were great. Sincere. Charming. Funny. Chris and Ash loved every word."
"Maybe," he replied hating how unsure he sounded.
Mike had always been confident-fearless. However, tonight being alone with Sam he felt uncertain of himself. She'd turned him into some speechless nerd- his wit and intuition no more.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You were amazing. At least I thought so," she said supportively glancing up at him hoping to catch his expression.
He wasn't looking back at her as she'd hope; instead his head hung low staring at the tip of his dress shoes.
"Do you miss Jess?" she impulsively asked fighting the urge to kick herself for asking such a thing.
"I did. For a while. We weren't that serious but I felt responsible for her. We were together and I should have protected her."
"You did everything you could Mike. There's no one to blame."
He couldn't agree with her. There was always someone to blame, whether it was himself, the others, Josh. In some way they all were to blame, except maybe for Sam. She was the only one who really gave a damn about the Washington's, about Hannah. She'd wanted no part in the prank he and the other's pulled on her that night. He knew how she'd felt about him, but he wrongfully went along with the other's. They'd completely humiliated her. Josh was a lunatic, but yet Sam remained impartial to his faults. After everything that happened on that mountain, she never gave up on him.
"Do you ever wish you could go back?" he asked having asked himself that question every day since they escaped Blackwood Mountain.
"All the time. I left a part of me back on that mountain that I've never been able to get back. I will never let myself forget the horrors of that mountain. We lost so much."
"The others. Chris and Ashley. They're so lucky that they have each other to help them forget. I wish I could say the same."
He kicked the ground with the heel of his shoe- feeling sorry for himself. He could tell the scotch had begun to run its course- his spirits slowly losing its spunk. He turned to her in an effort to win back his credibility as the guy who was always sure of himself. He was surprised to find that she had already been looking at him- their eyes meeting.
"Kick me if I'm wrong, but do you want to get out of here?"
Mike listened at the sound of keys turning in the lock- Sam had finally made it home from her lunch date with Ashley. He sat frigidly on the recliner- the TV turned off- watching the door as she entered the apartment.
She looked at him- her eyes escaping to the opened bottle of brandy sitting on the surface of the coffee table.
"Off to an early start," she observed closing the door behind her.
She threw her purse on the loveseat not bothering to pick it up as it toppled to the floor. She started for the kitchen, stopping, deciding to turn back and face him. She picked up the bottle of brandy sealing it shut before holding it up for him to see.
"What is this Mike? You promised me you were done with this."
He didn't say a word knowing that no matter what he said none of it would matter.
"Answer me!"
"Why? What is there for me to say?"
She returned the bottle to rest on the coffee table, not wanting to be responsible for staining the carpet for fear of throwing it, she was furious.
"Are you drunk?"
"No," he answered sharply. "I've had two drinks. That's all Sam, but apparently that's enough to be labeled an alcoholic."
"I never said that," she answered defensively.
"You didn't have to. It was more than implied."
"Mike I don't want to fight with you. What's going on?"
He stood up from the chair grabbing a small envelope from the end table adjacent to him.
"Here," he said handing her the envelope. "This came for you while you were out."
She studied the envelope recognizing the familiar penmanship that spelled her name.
"Samantha," it read.
"This is from the Washington's," she said aloud turning it over finding that the envelope was not sealed.
"It's open." She looked at Mike with an accusing glance. "Did you open this?"
He nodded confirming he'd read the contents. She couldn't believe he'd invaded her privacy and read her mail.
"Mike!"
"Read it Sam," he instructed- his eyes stern.
She removed the card from the envelope, first admiring the elegant embroidery of the invitation. Her fingers slowly trailed the letters of his name- the memory of him present in her mind.
"They've declared him dead," she breathed almost sounding like a question.
Mike grabbed the bottle of brandy from the coffee table and poured two glasses half full.
"Drink," he said while handing her a glass.
She took a sip, then another- the taste of brandy lingered in her mouth. She slumped down on the couch, Mike joining her, lying her head in the bed of his lap. She could feel his fingers feeling their way through her tangled blonde tresses as he tried to soothe her. She picked up the card again her eyes focusing on its neatly scripted words.
"Please join us in the re-dedication of Blackwood Mountain December 31st in memory of Beth, Hannah, and Joshua Washington."