The Power of a Name
Chapter Two
This wasn't how Brady Black had pictured coming to meet the girl of his dreams. Whatever happened to the damsel in distress being locked in an ivory tower? Instead, he was slipping into a whorehouse at six-thirty in the morning because a hooker he had bumped into once at a party had been giving him nightmares for the past two weeks. Always the same dream, too. He could see her eyes. She was so afraid of something. Then, in the distance, he heard an evil, maniacal laughter. And then, she seemed to shrink before him into a small, frightened child with the same haunted eyes.
So here he was, entering Salem's most elite escort service, using an address he'd pried off Lucas Roberts the night before. The office looked no different than that of a normal hotel. A woman in her forties with a garishly painted face, large mouth, and bad dye job was behind the desk watching a small television set. In a chair nearby, a burly, dense looking man was staring suspiciously at Brady. The woman looked up, a false smile springing to her lips. "May I help you, sir?" She had, without a doubt, the most grating voice Brady had ever heard.
Brady shifted nervously, even though he reminded himself that he had nothing to be ashamed of. He wasn't here for any of the reasons they thought he was. "I'm here to see Sapphire," he said with surprising force.
Barb studied him with amusement. Of course. They were always here for Sapphire. She wondered what this one's story was. He was too handsome to have trouble attracting women. Maybe he was married, but he wasn't wearing a wedding band. Maybe he had just heard about Sapphire's special talents. Word had certainly seemed to be spreading lately. She glanced at the clock. "I'm sorry, mister; but Sapphire's shift ended half an hour ago. Perhaps one of our other girls could help you?"
"I just want to talk to her, not use her," Brady answered harshly, pushing his embarrassment aside. He felt the eyes of Muscle Man on him and tensed. "Can you just tell me how to reach her?"
Barb eyed the man in front of her with growing suspicion. "What do you want to talk to her about?" she challenged. She hoped Sapphire hadn't formed some sort of emotional attachment to this man. The thing Barb had always respected most about her was her ability to just do her job without any of the romantic entanglements of the other girls.
"I don't see how that's your concern." Brady didn't trust this woman at all. She had a shrewd, oily look about her. He didn't think her question came from caring at all about the girl. She was worried about her own interests.
Barb shrugged. "Fine, but I still can't let you see her now. If you really want to see her this badly, I'll work you into her schedule. I believe she has an opening in three weeks. Would you like to see her then?"
Brady would have found the situation amusing if he wasn't so frustrated. She was talking like she was a receptionist at a dentist's office, instead of a madame of a brothel. "Look, I want to talk to her. Now. I'll pay twice her usual rate," he said desperately, knowing money was the only way to get through to a woman like this.
Barb's overlarge mouth widened in a sickening smile, as an avaricious gleam came into her eyes. "Twice the normal rate? And you're just going to talk to her?" Brady nodded. She hesitated momentarily, but her greed won out over her apprehensions. "Let me just call up and see if she's up to it." Brady watched her disappear into a back room. He noticed Muscle Man was glaring at him darkly. What the hell was his problem? The woman returned a moment later. "All right, mister. You've got one hour. And payment in advance, please."
Brady took out his wallet and threw several large bills on the desk. "Where is she?"
Barb jerked her head to the left, as she counted out the money. "Up the stairs. Third floor, first door on your right. Have fun." She smiled sardonically. Personally, she thought an hour of conversation with that girl would be enough to make anyone run screaming from the room.
Brady tried to put his thoughts in order as he climbed the stairs. What exactly was he going to say to her when he saw her? "I'm Brady Black, and I'm here to rescue you." Somehow he didn't think the Star Wars approach would go over too well. He had no idea what kind of situation he was getting into. He knew nothing about this girl. And yet he felt he had read her soul in her eyes. Was that even possible? Brady came to the door the vulgar woman downstairs had indicated and knocked hesitantly. She opened it a second later, dressed only in a loosely wrapped blue satin robe. He refused to let himself looked below her neck. He needed to concentrate on her, not her body.
She met him with an empty smile. "Come in, mister," she said quietly, pulling him along by his unbuttoned collar. She had been a little surprised by Barb's phone call, but it was by no means the strangest request she'd ever gotten. And Barb was right. It was easy money. She led him into her bedroom, watching in amusement as he studied the opulent surroundings, from the black satin sheets to the burning incense and aromatherapy candles. Even her large mirror on the vanity made a perfect reflection of the bed. This room was here for a purpose, and she made no attempts to hide it.
Brady still didn't have a clue what to say to her. He tried to keep his eyes on anything but the bed. Unfortunately, there weren't many other objects to focus on in the sparsely decorated room. She sat down on the edge of the bed, swinging her foot listlessly and just watching to see what he would do. Besides the bed, there was only the chair at her vanity to sit on. He chose that.
As soon as he sat down, she went to work. "My hands are unbuttoning your shirt," she began in a soft, throaty voice, her eyes making love to him. "My hands are against your hot chest, and my lips are—"
"Uh, what are you doing?" Brady stopped her before she could continue the highly arousing wordplay.
She looked at him, amused by his obvious embarrassment. "I'm talking. That is what you wanted, isn't it?"
"No," Brady stated emphatically. "I want to talk to you, with you. Not sex talk. Not anything like it. I want to get to know you. I want you to know me."
She felt a wave of cold fear wash over her. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea, not for all the money in the world. She didn't want anyone to know her, especially not this handsome stranger in front of her. She covered up her panic with feigned indifference. "What do you want me to know, mister?"
Brady frowned at her bored tone. Then, he kicked himself. What had he expected? "Well, for starters, my name isn't 'mister'. It's Brady Black."
She hid her momentary surprise. Men didn't usually give her their last names. Unless he was lying. Which, she decided, he must be. "I'll try to remember that," she drawled. "So, Brady Black, you so lonely you have to pay people to talk to you?"
Brady laughed, a free, booming laugh, untinged with the bitterness she was used to hearing. "I'm never lonely," he replied honestly. "But I'm usually alone. I have a cabin up in the mountains where I stay most of the time." He felt the more he talked the greater his chances of getting her to let her guard down and open up to him.
She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Did he think she cared? Did he think he had to court and woo her before he got what he was after? He couldn't really think she didn't get his real purpose for being here. He was a man; and men wanted one thing, and one thing only, from her. "So what brings you to Salem?" she asked disinterestedly.
Brady looked straight into those guarded azure eyes. "You," he said gently, watching her reaction closely. He had decided that the only slight chance he had with her was by being entirely honest with her. It was the one thing he was sure she was unfamiliar with.
She smiled slightly. There, that was better. He was finally getting to the point. He was no different from the rest after all. "I'm all yours," she responded softly, leaning back slightly on the bed.
Brady frowned. This was going to be so much harder than he'd thought. He hadn't counted on her being so cool and collected, or on his own heady desire for her. "Not like that," he said harshly, in reaction to the unwanted effect she was having on him. "I bumped into you at a party a few weeks ago. I'm sure you don't remember, but I haven't been able to shake this uneasy feeling since then. So I came back to…well, I'm not sure why. I just know that our lives are entwined somehow."
She laughed, a mocking, hollow sound. "There's only one way I'll ever be 'entwined' with a man, mister. Want me to show you?" she added huskily.
He studied her intently. "That's what you want, isn't it? For me to use you and leave so you can write me off like every other bastard you've ever known. But I'm not going to do that to you. I want more for you and from you than your body."
A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't listen to words like that. Words like that could inspire hope, and hope was the enemy. It led the way to feeling, and she had spent too long learning to shut down. Indifference was her security, her safe place. She wasn't going to lose it now over a few naïve words from a man who knew nothing about her life. "Sorry. My body's the only thing for sale," she returned coldly.
"That's good, because I don't want to buy you, Sapphire," Brady replied with a soft smile. She didn't hold back at all. Then he frowned, staring into her eyes. "Sapphire. Is that your real name?"
She felt the knot tighten. This was a man who refused to recognize her boundaries, and now he had made the most unforgivable blunder of them all. "Why don't you figure it out?" she asked, barely reining in her temper.
Brady saw her eyes flash with emotion for the first time all night. She was angry. Good. He could deal with rage better than apathy. Obviously, he had found a sensitive issue. He would have to pursue this, if only to keep her off balance. "I would say not," he returned unperturbedly. "So who gave you that name? Or did you pick it out yourself?"
She shot off the bed, pulling the robe tighter around her. "It's none of your damn business!" she practically screamed. She immediately cursed herself for losing her temper. It only seemed to encourage him more. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, studying her intently. She noticed for the first time his clear blue eyes. They were different from any eyes she had ever seen. They weren't lustful, or cruel, or dead. On the contrary, they were soft and filled with pity and some emotion she didn't recognize.
"All right, Tempest," Brady said softly. "You don't have to tell me. I won't use that name." He saw her eyes flash again. This time with surprise. "It doesn't suit you anyway. Sapphires are beautiful, but dead and inanimate. You're much more like a storm. Your fury is palpable."
She had to break away from the bewitching power of his eyes, had to stop her mind from repeating the name he had given her. She looked up at the clock. "Your time is up," she said in a near-whisper, sure he would sense the tremor in her voice if she spoke any louder.
Brady followed her gaze. "I still have five minutes left," he countered, noticing how badly she was shaking. "I frighten you. Why?"
She refused to answer. She refused to give him the satisfaction. He was the one with the power. Lying flat on her back, she had power over every man in her life, no matter what they thought. Only one man had ever had real power over her; and when she had finally escaped him, she had sworn it would never happen again. However sweet, however different this man seemed right now, he would eventually show his true colors. And she didn't want him to have any power at all over her when he did.
Brady sighed. She wasn't going to give an inch without fighting tooth and nail. This was one hell of a distressed damsel. He stood up slowly. "Okay. You win. For now." He moved towards the door; and she followed at a discreet distance, as if to make sure he was really leaving. He opened the door and then turned once more to look at her. Anger, fear, and confusion mingled in her eyes to make her appear more vulnerable than ever. "Come away with me," he whispered.
She started backwards, frightened of the gentle pleading in his voice, like he was asking more for her sake than for his own. What a crock. "No," she said firmly and without ceremony. It wasn't the first time she'd been asked to run away with a man. Usually, she could laugh it off. But this was different. This was a man like no other. This was a man who wouldn't be satisfied with the little she was willing to give.
Brady nodded. He had expected that, but still he had been compelled to ask. "Bye, Tempest. I'll be back tomorrow," he promised, then left. And it was her turn to watch curiously as he walked away.
~~*~~
"Jason." He could hear her sweet voice calling him from the meadow. "Jason, come and catch me." She ran laughing through the field. The sun shone brightly on them. The daisies raised their cheerful faces to the sky. And there was his Belle, healthy and strong and lovely. She ran ahead of him, a vision in white, always just out of his reach.
"Belle, wait!" he cried, losing sight of her as the weeds around him grew taller. Weeds? Why were there weeds in their perfect meadow? "Belle, I can't reach you."
He saw her in the distance. Her smile was gone, and her baby blue eyes were welling with tears. "Why didn't you take care of it, Jason?" she asked, fingering a dying rosebush.
"I…I couldn't, Belle," he confessed, coming closer to where she knelt in the overgrown field.
Belle looked up at him, the tears falling from her cheeks onto the ground. "You couldn't even stay for me, could you, Jason? You left. You left when I needed you most."
He reached out for her, but she was still beyond his reach. "I couldn't stay, Belle. I couldn't stand seeing you like that."
"I didn't even get to say goodbye to you," she said sadly. She got up, her white dress still spotless, even though she'd been kneeling in the grass. She cast another glance around her. "Take care of our meadow, Jase. Get rid of the weeds."
He knew he was losing her again. She'd leave him soon, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. "I can't do it without you, Belle," he cried desperately. "Any of it. Live, breathe, function. Let me come with you." He took a step towards her; but adversely, she seemed to slip even farther away from him, even though she hadn't taken a step.
She smiled at him. "No, Jason. You have to get rid of the weeds first." She looked at him with eyes that held no trace of anger or sorrow or bitterness, only pure, unadulterated love. "I love you, you know. I always did." Her smile turned wistful. "But it's time for me to go now. Goodbye, my beloved." She turned and skimmed gaily across the meadow towards the light of the sun."
"Belle, wait!" Jason called, trying to follow her. But the faster he ran, the further she was in the distance. "I love you!" Belle suddenly disappeared taking the light with her, leaving Jason in utter darkness….
Jason smashed his pillow down on his alarm clock to dull the incessant beeping. He groaned, covering his face with his hands. That's why he got smashed every night, he suddenly remembered. If he didn't, he had dreams like that one. Where Belle was so real and vivid and alive, that he could practically swear he smelled her lilac perfume. She overwhelmed his senses.
He forced himself to sit up. He had to get to work. It was his first day on the job, which was the reason behind his unnatural sobriety. He would kill for a beer, but he knew he couldn't have one if this job was actually going to last. He grimaced, imagining what people would say if they knew the high and mighty Jason Masters was working as a common security guard. The Salem in-crowd would just love that. His father had had such high hopes for him when he graduated high school. And he and Belle had made such big plans. But that had all changed with her illness. At twenty-one, he felt old and used up.
He wondered again about the Blacks. They certainly wouldn't welcome him back with open arms, after he had run out on Belle that way. Actually, Jason thought he might feel a little better about being such a jerk if John and Brady beat the crap out of him. God knew he deserved it. He had left the woman he loved when she needed him most, and for no reason other than his own cowardice. He hadn't been able to watch his bright, sunny Isabella wither away like that anymore.
Jason ran a hand back through his tousled sandy blonde hair. His dream was just a dream. He was sure Belle must have died hating him. How could she not after what he had done? If she could send him a message from beyond the grave, it would be a slap across the face, not some gardening tip.
Well, he certainly wasn't going back to Salem for the sake of some stupid meadow. Just because he and Belle had spent some perfect days there didn't make it his responsibility. It was a wild field! What kind of gardening did it need? "Get rid of the weeds," Jason muttered dismissively, getting up to get ready for another pointless day of his meaningless life.
~~*~~
Mimi Lockhart practically floated down the hall to her locker. Was it possible? Only a month until graduation. Finally! After twelve years of working her butt off for straight As, she was going to be free! And then, a whole year in Europe. She could picture herself sipping espresso in an outdoor café in Rome, writing in her journal. Maybe she'd have some sort of spiritual epiphany and write a book about it and become world famous. She giggled at the ridiculous notion. But hey, a girl could dream.
If she was being honest with herself though, she'd have to admit that her favorite European fantasy was the one where she was shopping the famous Parisian boutiques and came round a corner and bumped straight into the man of her dreams. He'd be tortured, mysterious, and handsome. Maybe he'd turn out to be a vicomte or something. That wasn't the important part though. It would be love at first sight. Their eyes would lock, and they would just know that they were going to be together forever.
She sighed as she unlocked her locker and grabbed her books for the next class. It was, of course, absolutely ludicrous. After all, one didn't reach the age of eighteen never having been kissed without coming to face certain realities. She just wasn't attractive to men. Well, except for—
"Meems!" The object of her depressing thoughts was waving franticly as he made his way towards her.
"Hey, Kev," she mumbled, shutting her locker. She turned to face Kevin Lambert, class treasurer, head of the chess team, the debate team, and the AV club. And her own personal Urkel. She'd lived next to him her whole life, and he'd been pursuing her since they'd been able to walk. She sometimes wondered why she didn't just give in and date him. It's not like she had any sort of reputation to protect. She was happy being one of the faceless mass. She had her friends and her enemies; but for the most part, she had managed to make it through high school relatively unnoticed.
"I wanted to talk to you before school this morning," the dark haired boy said, readjusting his thick, black glasses on the bridge of his nose. "But when I got to your house, you'd already left."
Mimi barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Honestly, this crush of his had stopped being cute a long time ago. "Yeah. I drove Connor to school this morning. Dad was running late for work, and Mom had a doctor's appointment. Why? What did you want to talk to me about?"
"Well, I wanted to give you this," he said, producing a wilted red rose from behind his back. He blushed slightly. "It was much prettier this morning."
Mimi smiled. It really was an adorable, if clumsy, gesture. And who was she to be turning down flowers? It's not like she was drowning in admirers. She accepted the faded rose. "Thank you, Kevin. That's very sweet of you."
Kevin smiled at her, flashing perfect white teeth. Despite Kevin's nerdy manners and habits, he was incredibly handsome. More than one of Mimi's friends had formed crushes on him over the years, but he only had eyes for her. Too bad the feeling wasn't mutual. There just wasn't any attraction on Mimi's side. She liked him as a friend, nothing more.
"There's something else, too," Kevin began, looking down around the direction of her knees. She wondered what was up. It wasn't like Kevin to be nervous around her. "It's almost time for Prom, and I wasn't going to ask you, because you've made it clear that you don't feel that way about me. But then I figured what the hell? It's Senior Prom. My last chance. So would you like to go with me?" He said all this very fast and not meeting her eyes.
Mimi bit her lip and looked down at the dying rose. Why couldn't she just say yes? She could say they could go as friends. Kevin would respect that. And it wasn't like anyone else was going to ask her. But still, she couldn't form the word yes. She couldn't do it. "I…I'm sorry, Kev. I can't," she said gently.
"Why not, Meems?" Kevin asked, meeting her gaze again. She could see so clearly the hurt she had caused him reflected in his dark eyes. "Has someone else asked you?"
Mimi shook her head vigorously. "No, Kev. Nothing like that. I just…I don't want to end up hurting you, when you start thinking it means more than it does. You're my friend. One of my best friends. But that's all we are, and that's all we'll ever be."
A spasm of pain crossed Kevin's face, and then was replaced by a mask of anger. "You know what your problem is, Mimi?" he spat out viciously. "You live in a dream world. Not that it doesn't make sense, what with the sheltered, perfect life your parents have given you. But someday, you're going to have to wake up and face reality. This perfect Mr. Right you're waiting for doesn't exist. You have these crazy ideas about love and romance, with no basis in reality. It's not love at first sight, Mimi. It's not some instant spiritual connection. But what we have is real, or it would be if you'd let it. You've gotta grow up sometime, Meems."
Mimi's eyes smarted with tears. Kevin had never, ever spoken to her like that. Was it true? Was she letting something beautiful slip through her fingers because of some schoolgirl's fantasy? Maybe. But she had to take that chance. She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, Kevin," she said softly, choking back her tears. "You may be right. But if love is a dream, then I'm not ready to wake up yet."
Kevin gave her an insightful look. "He's gonna break your heart, you know," he said solemnly.
"What? Who?" Mimi asked, confused. Did Kevin think there was someone special? Because there wasn't.
"The man you finally let yourself fall in love with," he returned wisely. "He's gonna rip your life and your perfect dream world apart. And I for one am going to want to be there to see it happen. Maybe then you'll understand what you've done to me." He smiled bitterly. "Bye, Meems." He walked away from her towards his class.
"Hey, Kev, wait!" she called loudly after him. He didn't even turn around. She banged her head back against her locker. She had never meant to hurt him. He was one of her dearest friends, but why had he kept pushing her so hard? He acted like she was happy about hurting him, and she wasn't. She couldn't stand what she was doing to him. But what was she supposed to do? Go out with Kevin to make him happy, never mind what she felt? Mimi was sorry for him, but she wasn't about to let her own dreams die that easily.
Mimi was still staring blankly into space when the bell rang. "Oh damn!" She raced down the hall towards her classroom, clutching tightly to her books and the dead rose. She careened around the corner and smacked into something solid, falling backward, belongings scattering.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the something solid said. "Are you okay? Let me help you up." He extended a strong hand towards her.
Mimi couldn't explain it, but the sound of his voice was giving her delightful little shivers down her spine. She slipped her small hand into his and caught her breath at the knot that suddenly formed in her stomach. The daze around her head clearing, she looked up at him, her eyes immediately staring into the depths of the most beautiful emerald-flecked eyes she had ever seen. And Mimi Lockhart suddenly knew that all her dreams were about to come true.