Her
Edgar
The sole of my polished leather shoe scuffs against rain-slicked pavement as I step from my Escalade. Dim streetlights reflect off the inky street as my eyes drift down the way to where people wander aimlessly. Standing around trashcan fires. Money trading hands for baggies of whatever was plaguing these streets lately.
I’m met by something sharp and unpleasant. I wince as I button my blazer and absentmindedly smooth a hand down the front of it. Things have changed over the years. The drug-fueled zombie apocalypse, once limited to the Tenderloin District, was spilling over. It was only a matter of time until it plagued this block just the same.
The low thrum of music carries from inside the club as I step onto the curb, eyes still on the distance, when a white notepad slaps against the ground near my feet. I bend down, pick it up, and hand it to…
Jesus…
“Thanks.” Her voice is soft and delicate, like her smile. She barely spares me a glance, but it’s enough for me to see her eyes; big pools of blue set against porcelain skin. Her make-up is light. She knows she doesn’t need it. Her thick, blonde hair sits perfectly smooth, stopping at her shoulders.
“No problem,” I manage through a stricken state. She shakes the water from her notepad and carries on sketching like I’m not even there. I hesitate but take the hint and continue to the double doors when I clock a large man in a grey tracksuit rounding the corner down the way. His wild eyes fix intently on something behind me. I turn to trace the man’s crazed stare.
Her.
…as she stands there alone and unaware.
I turn on my heels and take a protective stance next to her at the curb. Her eyes slide to my feet.
“Allow me to stand with you until your ride comes.”
“Not necessary. A car should be here any minute. But thank you.” She offers a quick look with a faint smile before returning attention to her sketch. That brief glance is all it takes for the glimmering blue of her eyes to punch me in the gut.
I keep my focus on the approaching man. His eyes are dark, vacant yet intense, and locked squarely on her. He’s too close.
“Keep walking.” My tone is grave. He looks surprised, as though he hadn’t noticed me until now, but he keeps walking. She glances over her shoulder at the man as he passes.
“What was that?”
“You should mind your surroundings a bit better.” My voice is measured, careful not to sound scolding. I don’t know this angelic person, but I sense a fragility in her. “A girl like you, dressed like that at this time of night, standing here alone.”
She shoves her notepad into her clutch and inspects her outfit. “Dressed like what?”
I lean into her ear with a light touch of her waist and, my God, the scent of her could fucking undo me. It’s floral, vanilla, and honey-sweet…subtle, but feminine, and so damn pretty…like her.
“Expensive,” I say low.
And she does look expensive. In skin-tight leather-pants with red-bottomed heels and an understated, yet expensive-looking top that hugs her body like a goddamn dream. Her jewelry is minimalist but high-quality. She oozes wealth without even trying—not uncommon for the elite of San Francisco—but I have never seen anyone as effortlessly lowkey about it…not at her age anyway…in a city where they wear money like a badge of honor—a signal dictating the way the world must treat them.
My guess is old-money. The kind that does not need to be announced or lavishly flung around. The kind that has probably crippled her like a caged bird more than set her free.
Her eyes narrow on me as she crosses her arms, but she quickly resigns, her expression softening. Her defensive stance eases. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” she admits. And I’m immediately relieved I didn’t offend this gentle creature. “I didn’t think I’d be waiting this long and just had to get out of there.” She motions to the club.
She runs dainty hands along her bare arms. “You’re cold, take my jacket while you wait.” I wrap my blazer around her shoulders with a gentle squeeze. “Better?”
She flashes the sweetest smile. “Yes, much better.”
She averts her eyes, saying nothing more. She isn’t rude, but she’s unmistakably closed off…and not in a pretentious way…it’s more deeply guarded than that. I should take the hint, stay quiet…but the intrigue is killing me.
“Why are you leaving?”
“I came with my friend. She’s in love with the DJ.” Her voice is soft. “I’ve done my duty as moral support.” She laughs to herself, tucks her hair behind one ear, and looks at me from under a dark fringe of lashes. My heart forgets its rhythm.
I can’t peel my eyes away. I’m searching for answers beneath that guarded exterior. Answers she doesn’t seem keen to give. “You’ve done your mingling. I get it.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve had those conversations a thousand times before. None of it’s real. You must know that by now living here, among money…if I’m judging correctly.” She scans me and something about having her attention on me makes me feel…deserving.
I pray she’s allowing me in. “So, it’s authenticity you crave?”
Her eyes lock with mine, brimming with sincerity. “It’s distance.”
A black SUV pulls up and a man in a dark suit promptly comes around to open her door. His stare is serious. I offer a reassuring nod as though to say “friend, not foe.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t know me.”
“But I'd like to know you.”
She hesitates before stepping into the back seat, momentarily lost in her own thoughts. Her expression falters, her eyes drop to the ground. “No. You wouldn’t really like that,” she says almost inaudibly.
She hands me my coat and climbs in. She doesn’t say anything more. But I see her gentle, half-smile when the man closes the door behind her. It isn’t much. Hell, it’s subtle enough to barely register. But it’s enough to tighten something in my chest.
As her red taillights grow distant, I kick myself for not asking her name. Not that she would have given it to me. I pull my jacket back on and my eyes almost roll back when I’m met with the honeyed smell of her.
Women I don’t know, in skin-tight dresses and stiletto heels, join me and my brothers at our table. They’re flirtatious and all-too available. But, for the rest of the night, I can focus on nothing else but the depth I saw behind her light eyes and the scent of her clinging to my jacket.
