"Charitable"
A TJ Jackson Erotic Short Story By:
MJsLoveSlave
Coventry
Hills, California
Summer
2015
By
the time the sun decided to begin its ascent, turning night to day,
shaking the still dozing little hamlet from it's restful slumber,
Avery Eduardo had been up and raring to go for close to two hours
already.
Never
being one to waste precious moments sitting about idly, Avery had
risen from the comfort of her bed, and after a vigorously hot shower,
and a short while of grunting and swearing to herself as she
detangled her mop of hair and wound it around hot rollers to beat
unruly kinks into submissive curls, her mind was firing with
decisions of every kind, before she was even aware of it.
Pulling
on a bright green satin robe, printed all over with proud, strutting
peacocks, Avery stood over her vanity, a hand to her chin.
While
every day was important to the young twenty-something, with an event
or meeting or errand to be run, today was absolutely paramount not
only to her social standing but the entire organization resting upon
her shoulders.
Every
little detail counted, right down to the very scent she decided to
spritz on her body.
There
she stood looking over the assortment of perfume bottles taking up
most of the right half of her table in a variety of every shape,
color and size imaginable.
Her
go-to, in a bottle shaped like toucan was called Tropical Nights,
but was far too heavy with notes of coconut and pineapple for such a
meeting as she had lined up today.
It
was a fun scent for an evening painting the town red with her
girlfriends, but not for business.
There
was a classic, Chanel No 5, but Avery didn't like it; it was too
powdery in scent for her, besides, her mother wore that scent
constantly and why would she want to smell like a woman over twice
her age?
A-ha!
She
lifted a bottle, near the back in a frosted pale blue glass.
Blackberry
Vanilla.
It
was fruity without being too, too, and the finishing notes of vanilla
and musk were just right.
Feminine,
not overtly so...sophisticated.
Yes,
she wanted to be sophisticated.
She
had to be.
Too
much was riding on this--
“Hija?”
At
the sound of the softly spoken, Spanish term of endearment, Avery,
whom had been liberally misting her decollete, paused, eyes coming up
to the mirror in front of her.
And
at the kindly, older gentleman ambling towards her, buttoning the
jacket of a pinstripe suit.
Lips
curling in a loving smile under his thick, silvery-white mustache.
It
was evident that in his younger days, he'd been quite the handsome
devil.
“Si,
Papa?” She questioned as he stopped behind her, hands on her
shoulders, massaging them gently.
“I'm
on my way to work now...” He paused leaning down to peck her cheek
lightly, “But before I left I wanted to tell you: your mother and I
are very proud of you. Of everything you've done and especially about
what you're going to do today.”
“Gracias.”
Avery chuckled, ducking her head as such compliments always did leave
her feeling bashful and she asked, trying to throw the attention off
of herself.
“Where
is Mami?”
“Where
she every day unless it's an emergency or Mass?” Her father
chuckled, giving her one last pat. “At her dance studio!”
Mr.
Eduardo lingered a moment, watching his only child start the process
of applying her makeup.
“Not
too much Hija!” He cautioned, flagging at her.
“Remember,
you're meeting The Jacksons today!”
“That's
right Papa...” Avery replied curtly, dampened beauty blender poised
in the air near her forehead, “I'm going to meet with The Jacksons.
The men, myths and legends. People who have been in the business
since the sixties. The real flesh and blood brothers of
Michael Jackson. The King of Pop who's still selling records—and
breaking them—from beyond the grave. I know Papa, you don't
have to tell me. I know. And I've spent an entire week preparing for
this sit-down meeting.”
Bouncing
the sponge over her face, blending a liquid foundation to
undetectable flawlessness she turned back to father, sitting on the
foot of her bed, scratching at his finely combed white hair, clashing
so well with his dark, olive skin.
“I
know what I have to do, what I have to say, what to wear, even how to
sit. I've done this every year for the past six years: Round up some
sort of a celebrity for our annual gala for Mami's
charity. And haven't I succeeded every time? Donny and Marie Osmond
last year, The Commodores the year before that, Reba McEntire before
that...Papa...”
Now
she was crossing the room to him.
“This
is going to be different! Very different, believe me!”
It
was her turn to hold his shoulders in assurance.
“All
the years before, I had to go out begging, nearly crawling on my
hands and knees to get a celebrity for our galas. Especially the
first year when we got Jennifer Lopez. There's criminals begging for
leniency from courts who did less crying and pleading than I did for
that woman. But like I said, Papa, this time, it's different.”
“How....how
Avery? How is it different?” The old man begged and found himself
being smothered in a strong, gleeful hug.
“Because..”
Avery kissed his cheek with a loud smack,
“This
is the first time a celebrity has ever come seeking me,
not me seeking them!”
*
* *
Coasting
along the winding road, beautiful ancient sequoias, redwoods and
pines to one side, the crystal blue waters of the Pacific to the
other, Avery could scarcely wrap her head around her good luck.
By
all accounts, Avery Eduardo had lived something of a charmed life.
The
only daughter of an African American mother, whom had once danced
with Baryshnikov, operating a competitive dance studio as of late,
and a Mexican jeweler who'd found his fortune in the state that had
once belonged to his people Avery had only known the finer things of
life and privilege.
She'd
gone to the best private convent schools, gone on lavish vacations
with her parents and their country club set to any and every
prestigious exotic locale imaginable.
Participated
in Girl Scouts and even dabbled in classic ballet like her mother.
Had
a life many dreamed of, and even more envied.
Most
weekends were marked by some kind of slumber party, where a gaggle of
girls giggled long into the wee hours of the morning and prank called
little boys they had crushes on.
Life
was indeed, happy, lazy and her greatest worry had been acquiring the
newest Barbie doll or Backstreet Boys CD before any of the rest of
her friends.
Ah,
simple childhood excess.
It
seemed nothing could mar such a delightful, fairy tale existence and
Avery had erroneously been lulled into a false sense of security.
The
fragile illusion was shattered the summer Avery turned thirteen.
Following
a trip to Egypt, in which the Eduardos walked among the pyramids and
in the Valley of the Kings, Avery's mother had suddenly taken ill.
She
was weak, unable to keep any food down and growing more and more
jaundiced by the minute.
A
rush to an emergency room in Cairo revealed the devastating culprit:
a tapeworm...
Somehow,
someway, Mrs. Eduardo had picked up the parasite and it was quickly
eating it's way through her liver.
The
liver was beyond repair, failing rapidly.
Mrs.
Eduardo was deteriorating right before her loved ones' very,
tear-filled eyes.
Her
mother was in desperate need of a transplant if there was any hope of
saving her life.
For
days, Mrs. Eduardo lingered in Cairo,her condition worsening by the
hour.
Soon,
she was drifting in and out of consciousness.
She
was too bad off to be transported back to the States or even to the
United Kingdom where hospitals were better equipped for such invasive
procedures.
Phone
calls and emails went out, spreading like wildfire, to various organ
donation centers, doing everything under the sun and trying beat the
clock, trying to locate a liver.
Eventually,
at the eleventh hour, by the sheer grace of God, a matching donor was
found, and Avery's mother's was life spared.
But
the ensuing medical bills tallied at over a million dollars and for a
while, threatened to bankrupt the Eduardo family.
Right
then and there, Avery had made up her mind; she didn't want any other
children to go through the horror she had, nearly losing her mother,
then almost coming to ruin paying off what was a medical miracle.
She
didn't know how and she didn't know when but Avery felt in her heart
she needed to help people in a desperate situation.
Five
years later, shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Avery founded
Lorna's Love, a charity in her mother's honor with the intent of
helping to cover the costs that liver transplants incurred for
families struggled to pay.
For
six years, the charity worked in relative anonymity, Avery at the
helm as President, in between her regular job helping her father
procure and sell gems around the country,successfully helping with
the payments of dozens surgeries through bake sales, car washes ,
other fundraisers, culminating with the annual gala.
Out
of all the events on the fund raising calendar, the gala had to be
Avery's very favorite. It was an endeavor that was months in the
making, always held in the greenery filled, glass encased Atrium of
the Nine Rivers Country Club.
An
elegant affair with men in tuxedos women in evening gowns, fine food
and even finer entertainment.
And
with each passing year, Avery had put pressure on herself to find and
secure the very best entertainment for her guests,.
It
forged a battle within the ambitious twenty-four-year-old to outdo
the preceding year's party every time and as such would always send
out emails and letters to various, high profile celebrities, asking
them for performances. (usually for free.)
The
only part of her work for the galas that Avery loathed was the
grovelling, sucking up and boot-licking she had to do.
Being
a lackey just to get the right name on the programs and invites.
It
was an ugly job, but Avery had resigned herself to it for the greater
good.
It
wasn't about her; it was about those people clinging on to the hope
of receiving those much needed, and severely short-supplied livers
and going on to live full, healthy lives.
Still,
she hated being a damn yes-woman.
That
all changed one morning, less than a week earlier.
Avery
had been checking her emails, as she did each morning before getting
her day started in the dark.
A
letter from a Mr. Hal McHugh, attorney at law caught her attention at
the top of the page.
At
first, Avery wasn't alarmed, as she commonly dealt with lawyers all
the time in her business, making sure the precious stones she was
buying and selling were acquired through legal means.
(There
had been a scandal years ago concerning the mistaken purchase of
African 'blood' diamonds and Avery never wanted a repeat of that for
her father's business. Sales had dropped for months afterwards.)
She'd
very nearly been floored when she opened the message, which had been
typed in a plain, yet intelligent manner.
The
short email had gotten right to the world-jarring point.
Oh,
if she closed her eyes she could recite it verbatim,
Dear
Miss Eduardo,
I
am the manager and legal counsel for Mr. Jackie Jackson, Mr. Tito
Jackson, Mr. Jermaine Jackson, and Mr. Marlon Jackson, whom you
probably know collectively as The Jacksons and 4/5 of The Original
Jackson Five. It has come to our attention that you are the President
of a very worthy cause and my clients are very much interested in
using their name and influence to help in any way that they can.
Please,
respond as soon as possible, so that we may begin conferring on the
matter at hand.
Yours
Respectfully,
Hal
McHugh
Her
luck!
She
simply could not believe her luck that The Jacksons, a literal
musical dynasty in themselves, were interested in helping her?
Helping
Lorna's Love!
Of
course, Avery had replied as quickly as her little, shaking fingers
had allowed her.
She'd
have been a fool not to.
Several
emailed interactions later, the meeting had been arranged.
It
was a blessing of a magnitude that came close to rivaling that of her
mother's life being saved by the skillful hands of a team of Egyptian
surgeons.
It
was not every day that a person got to meet The Jacksons, and work
with them.
Avery
could barely fathom it.
She'd
grown up on their music, her parents were great fans.
To
meet real life superheroes was a dream come true!
And
to know they were to bond over a work of charity, benefiting others
in their hour of need, it took her breath away.
An
hour later, as she drove past the city lines of the wealthy enclave
of Hidden Hills, she began to feel slightly queasy, her stomach
performing somersaults like a gymnast going for Olympic Gold.
This
opportunity was even more precious and doubly rewarding.
She
was determined to get it right.
She
had to.
What
began as rows and rows of ostentatious mansions and sprawling estates
divided by stretches of well-tended, emerald green lawns, most kept
from prying eyes by tall, iron fences, some manned by armed guards to
protect the wealthy residents inside and keep the riffraff out, gave
way to a quaint and charming city center.
And,
as she traversed the neat streets, bypassing any and every kind of
luxury vehicle, some which she had never seen, on the horizon, Avery
spied her destination:
The
Ignacio Hotel.
According
to her correspondence with Mr. McHugh, The Jacksons were in the
process of recording a new album, due to be released near the end of
that year or early the next, and had been staying at the hotel to
avoid a lengthy commute, as all four brothers lived in different
cities near, but not in, Hidden Hills, where the studio in
which they'd chosen to record was located.
Indeed
the Ignacio seemed a place that would attract prominent people like
The Jacksons; it was a lovely, soaring structure, built in the
Spanish Colonial style, it's pinkish adobe walls sparkling in the
midday sunlight.
Rounding
the massive marble, five tired fountain, spewing water a good fifty
feet in the air, Avery handed off her car to red-jacketed valet.
And
timidly began picking her way across the brown, peach and white
mosaic tiles through the revolving, lead glass and gilt door of the
main lobby.
The
lobby was every bit as sumptuous and elegant as Avery had figured it
would be.
Overstuffed
suede chairs and divans, swank gold accents.
Men
dressed sharply in dark somber suits and women in brighter chiffon
day dresses, all designer, of course, wandered back and forth.
Those
in packs communicated amongst one another whilst the few lonsesome
stragglers had their phones pressed to one ear.
At
a wide,long carved counter a handful of clerks were checking people
in and out and summoning bellhops to move mountains of Louis Vuitton
luggage.
Stepping
further, Avery discovered, off to the side and half hidden behind a
potted palm was a full-length mirror, rimmed in an elaborate gold
frame.
It
was there, Avery Eduardo paused, giving herself a critical once over,
though she had spent some three hours preening about in front of her
mirror at home before she'd even left her home.
She
wanted to look as perfect as humanly possible with such an important
meeting hanging in the balance.
Her
gala completely and wholly depended upon it.
Avery
was not the average California girl archetype of skinny, tan and
bleached blonde, nor was she typical ideal of what a 'Latina' should
look like—olive skinned, a curvy body, and long straight hair.
Instead
in Avery were very strongly composed elements of both her parents.
She
was tall, yes, both her parents were tall, that was a given, but
whilst her mother had always been extremely thin, per her ballerina
career, and going plain gaunt during the ravages of her illness.
Avery had come out more on the plump side, reflecting her father's
end of the family. Not to say she was obese, far from it but while
the standard was generally a four—and that was on a “fat” day
in California—Avery was a very healthy, size fourteen, with a
figure laying between that of a true hourglass and a pear, with her
lower half slightly more 'filled' than her top.
Her
complexion was neither as dark as her mother's nor light as her
father's with Avery falling as a happy medium, in between with skin a
deep, gleaming bronze, clear and smooth, offset by her wide, almond
shaped amber eyes and her flowing black tresses, worn in large, loose
curls, cascading down her back.
Her
attire was sleek and business-y, but not stuffy, consisting of a
crisp white button down tucked into a high-waist grey tweed pencil
skirt.
For
a pop of color, she wore a bright turquoise beaded statement
necklace, at the very center of which was a large, aquamarine fiddler
crab set in white gold, with smaller crabs adorning her earlobes and
right ring finger.
Other
accessories, a clutch purse and peep-toe pumps were grey, in line
with her skirt and a the loops handles of a stiff black alligator
briefcase dangled from the crook of her left arm.
Briefly
she worried she looked too fine, too moneyed to be asking someone
with as much clout as The Jacksons to perform, essentially for free
and considered removing the baubles.
No
all of the items would stay.
Her
look was meticulous and had been put together by herself and the
critical eyes of her parents. The clothes, her mother had selected,
while her father, naturally, had supplied her jewels.
Everything
was her way of carrying those she loved so much with her though she
walked alone.
Giving
her curls one final fluff and assuring her makeup, muted and sedated,
but applied well, she turned on her heel heading for the concierge
desk and the only one who wasn't up tending a guest at the hotel.
“How
may I help you, ma'am? He asked, smoothing his oily, mousy brown hair
straightening in the face of an attractive woman in need of
assistance.
“My
name is Avery Eduardo. I was supposed to meet a Mr. Hal McHugh...is
it possible for you to direct me to him?”
That
one detail which had been lacked in the volleying of emails, was
exactly where in the Ignacio she was to meet The Jacksons and
their lawyer.
And
she desperately didn't want to wave the Jackson name around.
If
there was even a squeak of an idea as to where anyone from that
family were to appear, a crowd so large would congregate the police
would have to be called in to restore order.
Avery
had seen it.
She'd
been to a Michael Jackson concert before.
Sure,
she fainted in middle of Billie Jean, but she was there, damn
it!
A
long moment, the concierge typed on a small laptop.
“Oh
yes! Mr. McHugh has taken Conference Room 9178. That's up on the
ninth floor. If you take those elevators there--”
A
bank of lifts were pointed out across the lobby.
“They'll
take you straight up and once you're up there, the room will be to
your left.”
“Thank
you very much.”
“Not
a problem, thank you!”
With
that, Avery made her way around the throngs of other visitors and
boarded an elevator right as a woman with a screaming, flailing
toddler got off.
Thankful
that bundle of noise was leaving she pressed the button marked “9”.
and watched as the accordion doors began to close.
Just
as they were almost shut, with less than an inch of space to be
claimed, a hand jut between the doors, setting off a sensor and
causing them to glide back open, startling Avery.
“Gosh,
I hope you forgive me barging in and commandeering your elevator like
this...”
A
man apologized, stepping into the mirrored dangling cubicle. “...but
I'm already about fifteen minutes late to be somewhere and yours was
the only elevator on the ground floor.”
“No...”
Avery was at once breathless, staring up at the man as the doors
finally shut behind him. “...it's quite alright...really...”
Her
mind should have been on her work for Lorna's Love.
It
really should have.
But
handsome men had such a way of distracting her.
And
boy howdy...was this man handsome!
She
couldn't remember the last time she'd set eyes on a male so....so
striking!
Tall,
taller than Avery, who was five-eight barefoot, with what looked to
be an athletic, yet stocky build, as evidenced by the way his merlot
silk top and black wool-blend trousers were hugging a
broad-shouldered, broad-hipped form.
He
was incredibly attractive; his skin a supple, deep sienna with a cool
undertone; he looked something of a movie star as he bore the
trademark, cut features, high cheekbones, a thin, upturned nose, lips
that weren't too thick or too thin, over glowing teeth, revealed as
he smiled down at her.
While
he was as conventionally beautiful as one man could ever hope to be,
Avery sensed there was something more to him.
That,
like her, perhaps his blood was mixed, she'd always possessed a sixth
sense for recognizing those like herself. He had to be mixed...with
what she didn't know, but it did provide for a lovely combination in
the end.
“It
always seems like the days when you have to rush the most, everything
goes wrong.”
The
man continued, reaching for the buttons as the elevator slowly
started upwards and seeing the “9” was already pressed, leaned
against the wall, scratching at the short, jet curls springing from
his crown and tapered near elfish ears.
Ah,
so he was headed for the ninth floor, also.
“I
got up an hour earlier than usual, did my whole routine, got dressed,
ate breakfast, even caught a latte from Starbucks—and there's
usually a line fifty cars deep there every single morning. But there
were only three ahead of me! I thought I was home free—Hell no!”
He
simpered, muscles on his cut jawline clenching with distaste, his
eyes widening at his verbal faux pas and he was quick to apologize,
“Pardon
me. I don't usually go around swearing in front of ladies.”
That
caught Avery off guard.
Never
in her life, outside her father, had she ever had a man apologize for
cursing in her presence.
And
such a mild swear word at that. Avery made more noise when her winged
eyeliner didn't come out just so.
“It's...quite
alright...” She stammered again, with a gulp, as she didn't mind
his rambling at all.
Usually
she disliked people who prattled on aimlessly with no point to be
made in sight, but this was different.
Avery
found this man's voice so smooth, so soothing, that he could have
stood with a telephone directory, reading each name A to Z and she
wouldn't have cared a snit.
Delightfully,
his lips kept on flapping.
“...then
as I'm on the 405 from The Valley, a freakin' semi full of jars of
Nutella. of all things, decides to overturn. Had to swerve up
on the shoulder just to avoid crashing into all that mess. You should
have seen it. Jars and jars of Nutella as far as the eye could see!
Spilling and rolling everywhere. And then people all over were
braking, getting down and stealing what they could carry--It was
insanity!”
He
shook his head derisively, then those sharply arched brows rose
mischievously, with the man confessing, teeth flashing like
spotlights.
“I
pilfered a couple of jars for myself; I do like drizzling some on my
waffles every now and then.”
What
a gorgeous, breathtaking devil he was!
Avery
did so adore men like him. Assured, handsome, friendly...
Yes,
she was just going to have to ask him for his phone--
PING!
Overhead,
the numbers which had been lighting to denote the floors they'd been
passing lit for the ninth level and the door slid open, revealing
another inlaid tile floor, among an otherwise bland beige corridor,
rows and rows of doors setting shut, brass plates with room numbers
inscribed on each glinting, as the pair stepped out.
“Well,
it was nice talking to you.”
The
man declared, and before Avery had a chance to whip around, he was
several yards away, heading for the end of the hall, opposite to
where she was supposed to be going.
Her
chest ached, she'd missed her chance with him...she didn't even know
his name--
“Miss
Eduardo?”
A
crisp, distinctly Irish voice questioned and eyes, trained on the
figure in burgundy slipping from her grasp, she turned.
Behind
her, a kindly older gentleman, bearing an uncanny resemblance to
actor Robert Redford had materialized, buttoning the front of a
double breasted window pane checked suit jacket.
Translucent
green eyes studying her over the rims of square, tortoise shell
glasses.
“Yes...”
She turned to him slowly. “Mr. McHugh?”
“Yes
indeed!” He chuckled a hand thrust forward, with him adding as
Avery shook it politely, “I thought that was you! I recognized you
from the photo of you and your mother on the website for your
foundation. It's a pleasure to meet you!”
“You
too, Sir.” Avery was all smiles, her eyes canvassing the scenery
behind him, hunting anyone that even remotely resembled a Jackson.
Where
were they? Were any of them already there? Could they see her?
In
fact, save for the pair of them, there wasn't another soul to be
spoken of on the floor.
Her
disappointment over the man that got away waning, Avery pulled
herself together, holding her head high, heart beating like a
three-mile drum, as surely, in only a few moments, she was to be face
to face with The Jacksons.
Thank
God she'd remembered to bring her camera with her for such an
experience.
“Now
Miss Eduardo...” Mr. McHugh's hands were cool and a trifle
clammy as he took hold of hers, looking over her face sweetly.
Something
was wrong, she could tell by the gentle appearance of regret in those
green eyes.
“What?”
She questioned, growing icy all over with worry. “Did...did The
Jacksons change their minds about my gala--”
If
they'd decided to pull out of the fundraiser, Avery was going to walk
outside and throw herself under the first semi she laid eyes on.
Even
if it were filled with Nutella.
“No!
No, no no!” Mr. McHugh was shaking his head violently, the
small hands in his going icy and trembling. “Quite the contrary!”
“Well...what
is it then?” She demanded, voice raising an octave.
“I
hate to be the bearer of bad news...” The Irishman shifted from one
foot to the other tentatively,
“...but
The Jacksons are unable to meet with you today--”
Seeing
death in those goldish-brown eyes, the nude painted lips parting in
disaster, it was clear Avery was quickly gearing up to begin bawling
on the spot, he hastened to explain,
“There
was a glitch in the recording equipment they used. Yesterday, they
laid down lead vocals to three songs and backing vocals for two other
songs. It all was erased by mistake. All five songs. So,
unfortunately, they are back in the studio—rerecording. But, if
it's any consolation, you will be meeting with a
Jackson, just not a member of The Jacksons.”
Wispy
lashes fluttered as Avery squinted at him, battling with entangled
feelings of disappointment and curiosity.
“If...it's
not Jackie, Jermaine, Tito or Marlon...who is it?”
Sweaty-palmed
hands clutched the lapels of his jacket in quick excitement,
“Is
it Janet? Latoya? Joe—did they send Joe?”
Some
other notable member of the famous family?
She
was met with the shaking of a grey streaked tow head.
“No....”
Hand delicately patting her bicep, Mr. McHugh cleared his throat
loudly.
“The
Jacksons didn't trust leaving all of the details about this public
appearance in my hands; I'm just the one who gets contracts signed
and all the legal mumbo-jumbo out the way. But they wanted one of
their own, who's more in touch with what they expect and more in tune
to what they'd want...”
Avery
felt herself scowling, but refused to loosen the lines of her face as
it seemed this McHugh character was taking the scenic route in
reaching what seemed a point that wasn't going to be made any time
soon.
“They
wanted their own flesh and blood in the room, so to speak. So Tito
Jackson sent along one of his sons. ”
Avery's
head swirled.
Tito
Jackson, had kids? Why, she didn't even know he was married, much
less had kids!
Granted
most of her fanatical energy towards the Jackson clan had been
focused on Michael, but someone could have at least thrown her a line
or something about it!
But
was she really going to discuss an event as important as her gala
with some snot-nosed, spoiled-brat kid, who'd probably never lifted a
finger in his life and coasted by on the accolades his famous last
name afforded him?
This
was going to be a disaster, she could just feel it in her bones.
“He
should have been here by now--”
Mr.
McHugh stopped abruptly, and Avery realized he was no longer looking
at her, but over her head.
“There
he is—Oh, Mr. Jackson! Over here!”
He
called with a wave Avery spinning to catch a glimpse of this scion of
fame.
And
almost collapsed against Mr. McHugh dead away.
There,
jogging towards them, waving in return, was the man from the
elevator.
The
motormouth whom had been so cordial and stolen hazelnut sandwich
spread off the highway.
Avery
couldn't believe it, she simply couldn't believe it.
She'd
been in the company of a Jackson all that time?
It
all made sense now.
He
was unnaturally gorgeous, soft-spoken, kind, and sweet!
Especially
that soft, baby like, yet manly voice!
He
had to be a Jackson!
“Mr.
McHugh! I've been running all over this floor looking for you! Thank
God I found you!” He beamed happily shaking hands with the lawyer.
“I
was looking for you too!”
Those
clammy hands were on Avery's shoulders yet again, as he stated,
“This
is the young lady from the charity your father and uncles wanted to
perform for... Miss Avery Eduardo, I'd like you to meet Mr. TJ
Jackson.”
The
brows rose over his smooth forehead to his hairline, and his eyes
nearly disappeared he smiled so hard, as he reached out and grabbed
her right hand in both of his, shaking so enthusiastically she
bounced all over.
“Talk
about a small world!” He guffawed, telling Mr. McHugh. “We rode
the elevator together and I had absolutely no clue I was with the
woman I was supposed to meet all the time! What a surprise!”
“I...I
had no idea...I was with a...Jackson...” She admitted hoarsely,
heart beating harder than ever, her cheeks flushing hotly as he
grabbed her hand a second time, squeezing it warmly in his palms.
“It
really is so wonderful to know you, Avery.” His eyes flashed over
her in the most becoming sort of way. He looked over her, quite the
way she'd overlooked him in the elevator.
Was...a
Jackson...really, of all people, checking her out?
She
was going to pass out if he didn't quit!
“I
look forward to helping you in any way I can.”
A
rarity, Avery was speechless and could only stare back dumbly.
His
smile never cracked; it was genuine.
“Shall
we go on to the conference room?” Mr. McHugh spoke up, bringing
Avery back down to Earth fast, quick and in a hurry.
“Of
course.” TJ nodded and as the trio turned to proceed up the hall, a
long brown hand held Mr. McHugh back, Avery noticed, allowing her to
walk ahead of both men.
He
was a gentleman, through and through.
All
class...just like his famous relatives.
Yes...she
believed she liked this TJ Jackson even more.
He
certainly seemed to have taken a shine to her.
Two
Hours Later
“...and
that's why I chose to start Lorna's Love: because I was there and
witnessed firsthand the impact such astronomically high bills can
have on a family's finances, especially if the family is not wealthy
or very well-to-do...”
Avery
spoke quietly but with conviction from where she sat in the small,
intimate conference room, it walls wall a greyish-white, the only
splashes of colors being the sunny yellow abstract paintings, hanging
in fours on the walls and the plain, black leather of the four tufted
chairs at every side of the white lacquered table in the center of
the room.
Avery
sat at the head while Mr. McHugh sat to her left, shuffling papers in
a tobacco brown briefcase, and TJ to her left, his hands clasped
together under his chin, listening intently.
She
couldn't recall even seeing him BLINK since she'd began speaking.
Knowing
she had his full, unwavering attention, sent her emotions into a
tizzy.
“My
family is...ahem...upper-middle class, and we struggled for a while
after Mami's surgery; I can't imagine what lower income
families go through. You see...”
Her
nails, painted a matte mauve with silver moon tips tapped the
tabletop,
“At
least, to me, when a person goes through a procedure like this;
receiving a liver that saves their life, the last thing they need to
be thinking of is trying to pay off the bills from that surgery for
the rest of their lives. I'm aware there's benefits like Medicare and
Medicaid and even other insurances, but not everyone has access to
that. And not everything covers all the costs. That's where Lorna's
Love steps in. Sometimes we pay a portion of the expenses, at times
we've paid for the entire she-bang, if you'll pardon the expression.”
To
the side TJ nodded deeply his eyes shutting and forehead crinkling
with thought as he said mildly,
“I
have to say, I'd only heard a little bit about your foundation from
my father, Avery, so I didn't know the entire scope of what led to
the thought process behind it all. But I really must commend you on
taking such a negative situation and making a positive out of it.
Honestly.” His eyes opened and in the sunlight, through the
lone window across from him, the burnished-gold flecks in them were
sparkling at her.
“Th-thank
you.” She hated to be tongue tied, but TJ had that way about him
and influence over her.
She
was growing to like his influence.
“And
for you to have to witness all of that at only thirteen years old,
and not let it tear you down,you're a very strong lady, really.” He
was nodding those curls swaying every which way. “Must be an
inspiration to loads of people...”
“I...I
don't know...” Avery wasn't the bashful type, but TJ was sure
bringing it out of her.
“Now
I can tell you this...” TJ paused, reaching into the middle of the
table where some bottles of water stood chilling in a bucket of ice
and popped one open having a sip, his Adam's apple jiggling in his
long throat.
“My
father and uncles want to perform your gala—that's a given—and
they'd like to donate to your cause too, but they're still up in the
air about that, right Mr. McHugh?”
“Yes,
we'll finalize the amount between now and the gala.” Mr. McHugh
nodded, still digging about.
“Thank
you! I—I don't know what to say!” Avery had to blink back tears
of joy. “To...to have The Jacksons perform is a dream come true, in
and of itself, but to have...their donation too...Oh...My... God!”
She
was reeling.
“All
I need to know is what kind of an event is it and how long should
their set be? Like a full-out concert, or just maybe a fifteen minute
medley of their hits or what?”
“It's
a formal, black-tie event...TJ...” Avery's lips tingled just
speaking his name and realizing the two of them were on a
“first-name” basis.
“Tuxedos
and tails, that sort of thing....the length of you father's and
uncle's set is purely up to them. The rest of the time will be filled
with a string quintet--Believe me, we're grateful for anything--”
“Well
for an appearance like this, they usually do a thirty-minute set. The
old Motown hits,of course and then they do a tribute to my late Uncle
Michael--”
“Whatever
they want, it's up to their discretion.” Avery repeated, tucking a
curl behind her ear. “We're not picky at all.”
“How
much do you usually hope to raise with these galas?” The water was
polished off and he reached for another bottle.
“We
always shoot for a million dollars. I know that's rather ambitious,
but I feel like the higher you shoot, the better chances you have.”
“How
much are tickets?”
She
was twirling.
“A
hundred dollars apiece—why?” Avery's eyes grew, as she
watched TJ produce a sleek, black leather wallet from his back
pocket, his initials imprinted on it and opened it.
The
inside was thick with tightly packed money.
There
had to be thousands, at least.
He...he
wanted to buy a ticket?
“My
brothers and I wanted to attend. I need five tickets. One for me, two
for Taryll and Monique, two for Taj and Daniella.
As
he counted out and presented her with five, crisp hundred dollar
bills, Avery noticed he only mentioned two women's names...not three.
Was...he
flying solo?
She
didn't have the courage to ask, but did take the money reassuring
him,
“I'll
see to it that you get your tickets right away--”
“When
can I see the venue?” TJ interrupted coolly, “I know your event
is the first Saturday in August, about a month from now. I'll need to
pull in my brothers—Taryll's much better at figuring up a stage
setup than me, and Taj can film the venue and show it our father and
uncles so they'll know what to expect, you know how big the stage is
and that sort of thing. We don't Uncle Jermaine spinning off the
stage and breaking his elbow again like he did in Scotland last
year.”
“Um...”
Avery pulled her phone from her purse, the first time since sitting
down and poked at it a moment, scanning her calendar for
appointments.
“Tomorrow
I have to meet the caterers with my parents to taste test the dishes;
that'll take most of the morning then I have to have a fitting of my
evening gown—how does Monday grab you? I'll be at the country club
all day consulting about the decorations for the Atrium and seeing
one of my father's associates about some jewelry I'll be loaned to
wear--”
“Is
that a crab?”
TJ's
voice went up shrilly and Avery fell silent as he reached, taking
hold of her wrist, twisting it back and forth, examining the pave
critter on her cuff bracelet.
“I've
been staring at that the whole time you were talking! How cool!”
“Yes...”Goosebumps
were on her as he continued to grasp her wrist, running his
fingertips over the precious crustacean. “I'm a Cancer--”
“No
kidding? Me too!” TJ cackled, his eyes crinkling so attractively at
the corners.
“When's
your birthday?”
Did
he ever frown?
“July
fifteenth--”
“Get
OUT!” TJ cried slapping the tabletop and Mr. McHugh's head came
up in alarm.
“Mine's
July sixteenth!”
Their...
Their birthdays were right next to each other?
Was
this what kismet felt like?
“What
year?”TJ wondered leaning closer, inspecting the tiny crab clinging
to her earlobe. “Are those sapphires?”
“Nineteen
ninety-one....and they're aquamarines.”
“Oooooh,
ninety-one?” He snickered, reaching to wiggle the bauble in her
lobe.
She
grew so heated, she almost missed what he said next.
“I'm
'old'. I was born in seventy-eight...”
Avery
gawked.
He...he
was thirty-seven?
But,
he looked so youthful, so unaged. His skin so smooth and creamy.
He
was even glowing, his dermis so well-hydrated!
How
was that possi—Right, Jacksons didn't age like mere mortals.
Every
five human years added up to only one Jackson year.
His
eyes left her ear and met hers, lips coming together in a sly smirk.
Avery
couldn't move.
She
couldn't breathe.
She
was trapped in a spell.
“Mr.
Jackson?” She faintly heard that accented voice, was she going deaf
too?
“Hmm?”
The bridge of the upturned nose crinkled, but he didn't look away.
“I've
located the contracts you and Miss Eduardo need to sign...”
A
stack of paper was slid across to TJ, who promptly picked them up and
placed them before Avery.
“Take
a minute to read over that...” He instructed unfolding from the
chair. “Make sure you understand it all before you sign. Anything
you don't get...”
Avery,
whom had begun reading the first few lines, went blind a second, a
weight on her shoulder.
She
glanced up, finding TJ at her side, hand on her shoulder, with him
bracing against her, reading along.
The
gentle aroma of pine and spice wafted from him, standing so closely
by.
“...Mr.
McHugh will explain...”
It
took a little while, but finally, Avery made her way through the
contract and signatures were placed accordingly.
“It's
all settled.” Mr. McHugh grinned, reaching to shake her hand.
“Congratulations:
you've just gotten The Jacksons for your event!”
“Oh
thank you! Thank you! Thank you much!” She was on her feet, giddy,
whirling to TJ.
“You
will thank your father and uncles for me, won't you?” She begged,
hands clasped to a shaking bosom. “Oh! I'll have to send some kind
of gift. Flowers, champagne, something! Oh!”
She
was so blissfully happy.
“I
just know the gala will be a smash—Thank you--”
She
put her hand out to shake TJ's.
And
was dumbstruck when he pulled her forward, hugging her against his
beefy frame, hands petting her back.
“Glad
I could help...”
He
clasped his hands together behind her back, leaning away slightly.
So
she was cradled in his arms.
Those
brows wiggled with him adding,
“I'll
see you Monday; Nine Rivers Country Club, right?”
He...he
remembered and Avery felt herself nod, gasping as he pinched her chin
playfully.
“If
you'll excuse me” He released her with a coy smile. “I have to go
see a man about a tuxedo. It was nice meeting you, Avery.”
“You
too...TJ” She whispered, spellbound as he reached the door.
“Oh...”
He turned back eyes drifting from her heard to her feet, “What
color is your dress?”
“It's....it's
green... my mother's favorite color. A dark...forest green...”
It
wasn't until TJ was gone, the only remnant of him, a disappearing
shadow on the tiles, that Avery discovered why he'd asked the color
of her dress.
He
intended to match her.
When
the realization hit that her date for her own ball was a flesh and
blood Jackson, she blacked out smooth on the floor with a weak
whimper and the last thing she heard was poor, befuddled Mr. McHugh
shouting for help.
Two
Days Later
Near
the end of the lunchtime hour, the expansive, rollicking dining hall
of the Nine Rivers Country Club, found its interior,made to seat over
four hundred,dark with oak paneled walls, aged paintings of
eighteenth century rural scenes, and heavy, ostentatious, crystal
trimmed chandeliers swaying overhead, rather empty, save for only a
handful of the elite members lingering over the last bits of their
gourmet meals.
Seated
at one of the many linen draped tables, by the open bay windows
overlooking the rolling golf greens, Avery Eduardo was happily
nibbling the last few mouthfuls of her Rosemary Chicken and Avocado
Salad, her mind on a different type of 'greens' altogether.
Flanking
her bowl were four boxes, bearing the silver embossed Eduardo's
Jewelers insignia on a deep, smoked grey leather background, each
opened to reveal a King's ransom in gems.
A
coordinating set consisting of a pair of drop earrings, a lavish
necklace, bracelet and ring, all glittering with fine, flawless
diamonds and inhumanly large, clear cabochon emeralds gleamed in the
midday sunlight at her.
Glancing
out the window, where she could see her father, a few hundred yards
away, nine iron flung carelessly over one shoulder as he stood
laughing and chatting with her mother, both at ease in comfortable,
plaid ensembles, Avery turned her eyes to the well-suited gentleman
gazing at her attentively on the opposite side of the table.
A
short, stocky, aphoristic man with a large mustache and immaculate
waved hair, Avery smiled fondly at him.
Mr.
Romero had been one of her father's business partners for as long as
she could remember and had always supplied her with the pricey
baubles she wore, on loan, from her father's jewelry store.
“These
pieces are very lovely, Mr. Romero...” She stated, running a finger
over the large, sparkling emerald in the center of the huge ring set
in twenty-two karat gold.
“As
always, you chose the exact pieces to set off my gala gown. For the
last six years, you've hit it out the park and I can honestly tell
you, I am in love with these emeralds! Are they from
Mozambique?”
“No...Colombia...”
Mr. Romero corrected her, reaching past the empty plate that had
contained his Broiled Salmon and plucked the ring free of its
setting.
“Only
the finest of the fine for an Eduardo! Of course, I chose the best to
put on you, Avery...” The ring was slid onto her right ring finger,
a perfect fit, for her to admire up close.
“You
are the best advertisement for your father's business. A walking
billboard so to speak. Almost everyone at the club sees you at the
gala, not to mention the online and written press the event
garners...”
Entranced
by the hefty emerald, circled by baguette-cut diamonds, Avery beamed
imagining just how wondrous she'd look in her evening gown, decked
out in those jewels.
“I
really don't want to know...” She beamed slyly up at him before
turning her gaze back to the rock weighing her hand down, “...but
how much is the entire set I'll be wearing?”
She
knew she'd never be able to afford the gems so generously lent her,
but she felt it made her stand taller and hold herself in a more
ladylike manner to know the worth of what she wore.
“Right
under two million.” Mr. Romero nodded, red lips parting and
showing his white teeth.
“T-t-two
million? Dollars?”
Avery
shook her head in disbelief. “I knew it was going to be high, but
not that high—you really do raise the ante every year! Are
you and Papa really going to cut me loose with that much on me?”
It
seemed unfathomable. Only heads of state and royalty wore gems that
expensive!
She
was just the daughter of a jeweler and ballet instructor!
“Well,
you know there's always a guard following you to keep an eye on the
gems, Avery. You—and the emeralds—will be completely safe and
chaperoned.” She was assured with a nod and Avery sank back into
her chair.
That
was the only thing she didn't like about the galas; as she didn't own
the jewelry she wore she had to be trailed and watched like a hawk to
make sure nothing was lost or stolen during the party.
One
year, very briefly, one of the large, Asscher-cut ruby studs she'd
worn had fallen from her ear and the entire party was stopped until
it was recovered near the bandstand, where it had landed as Avery had
waltzed by with her father.
She
didn't need a repeat of that embarrassing scenario. Donny Osmond had
crawled around on his hands and knees in a tuxedo helping to look for
the earring!
Donny
Osmond!
Still
wearing the ring, she picked up the box containing the earrings, each
glowing teardrop-shaped emerald being explained as weighing a cool
twelve carats, suspended by a line of more diamond baguettes,
thinking of how well they'd look with her curly mane piled up
elegantly atop her head.
She
always wanted to look like a princess during the gala and princesses
needed their sparklers--
“Um...Avery?”
“Yes?”She
was lost in her daydream of elegance and being the big fish in a tiny
pond for a night...not to mention on the arm of a real life,
blood-flowing-in-his-veins-Jackson!
Michael
Jackson's nephew!
Wouldn't
her girlfriends be just sick and green as the emeralds with envy?
And
it would wipe the smug smile off stuck up Buffy L'Amore's face after
she'd paraded in on the arm of one of Marie Osmond's sons!
A
Jackson offspring beat an Osmond offspring any day!
“I
don't want to alarm you, but for about the last fifteen minutes, that
man over there has been staring at you. Do you know him?”
The
dark eyes came up curiously, first meeting that round olive face,
intense concern reflected in his own dark eyes, and covertly he
pointed a stubby finger, indicating whomever was watching, was behind
her.
Slowly,
so as not to be caught returning the alleged stare, Avery twisted in
her seat.
And
felt her heart flutter immediately.
Three
tables away, a very attractive gentleman lounged lazily in his seat,
one fist pressed to his cheek, a finger on the other hand absently
running around the rim of a glass containing what appeared to be a
White Russian.
A
faint smile curling deep, pinkish lips, goldish-brown eyes crinkling
at the very corners at her.
He
was country club casual in a bright navy blazer, over what looked to
be a fitted white tee and indigo-wash jeans. His long feet were clad
in the only 'name-brand' item she could identify right off, a pair of
navy blue, logo printed Gucci hightops.
Seeing
he was now the observed and no longer the observer, TJ Jackson
feigned a surprised expression, those wing-tip brows raising on that
smooth forehead, wrinkling it slightly, lips twisting further in a
bemused way—he seemed to be on the verge of laughing without a
sound.
Flushing
harder than she had the day she met him, Avery whirled around her
chair, staring down at her plate.
“Yes...yes,
I know him...” She whispered feeling her face and neck burning.
Watching
as slowly, a shadow fell over the table.
And
a large, warm hand fell on her shoulder as the loose top of her
floral romper had slipped off over the course of her meal, exposing
it.
At
his touch, the room, once open, airy, and delightfully cool had
skyrocketed in temperature and was now stifling.
All
of the emotions which she had been suppressing, joy, rapture,
exuberance, glee, lust, came rushing back, full force and she
felt she could barely speak with TJ standing right there.
Beside
her.
Hand
gently massaging her shoulder, making tiny bumps of excitement erupt
all over her flaming dermis, he confided quietly, stooping to speak
through the curls obscuring her ear, his breaths warm and smelling of
coffee liqueur.
“I
wanted to come over as soon as I got here, but I saw you
were...occupied... with this gentleman here...”
There
was something in the way that he said it, that left Avery with the
feeling he intended more that what was spoken.
Head
still lowered, she managed to squeak out an obligatory introduction,
“Mr.
Romero works with my father, he was just showing me the... the
jewelry I'm going to wear for the gala. Mr. Romero, this is TJ
Jackson...he's Tito Jackson's son.”
On
the other side of the table, Mr. Romero's eyes swelled in his head,
the idea he was in the presence of a scion of music royalty hitting
him upside the head like a stray brick and it was his turn to be
tongue tied.
“T-T-Tito
Jackson is your father?” He gasped, cool lost, eyes going to
Avery in shock before returning to the chiseled attractive face
breaking into a grin.
He'd
probably heard that line all his life.
“The
same Tito....that's playing the gala....with The Jacksons?”
“That's
what they keep telling me.” TJ snickered good-naturedly, pulling a
chair and seating himself catty-corner to the pair.
“Wow...Tito
has always been my favorite Jackson!”
Ignoring
the comment of adulation, TJ's attention remained fixed on Avery, his
hand sliding from her skin, seemingly ignoring the goosebumps his
touch had encouraged, folding on the tabletop, his thumbs twiddling.
“All
of these emeralds will look astonishing on you...” He announced
shifting his chair so that he inched closer to her. “Green does
compliment you so well...I'm sure they make a wonderful addition to
your collection.”
He
thought she was purchasing the exorbitantly priced set?
“Oh
no...” Avery shook her head, still staring at her plate, TJ
plucking the last crouton away and eating it. “This is just a
loaner. Everything is far too expensive for me to buy--”
“What's
your favorite piece?” A cube of avocado disappeared with him
answering for her.
“The
ring.”
Her
hand, still bearing the bauble was raised, cradled in his.
“I
saw the way you looked at it when Mr. Romero here put it on. The way
you admired it and stared at it. The way you still haven't removed
it.”
TJ
took his time picking up a piece of chopped romaine, tossing it into
his mouth, munching.
“Good
salad—do you want the ring, Avery?”
He
was smiling so brilliantly at her.
And
she was taken aback.
Aghast.
He
wanted to buy her the ring?
“I...I
couldn't possibly let--”
“How
much is the emerald ring?” TJ turned to a still gawking Mr. Romero
who had to take a moment to gather himself.
“Uh....ahem...”
He cleared his throat, pulling at his striped tie nervously “It's
right at hundred and ninety thou--”
“I'll
take it...well, Avery will. I'll just pay for it.” TJ
replied coolly as though he were purchasing a fifty-cent Popsicle
from an ice cream vendor's trolley.
Not
a piece of jewelry that cost more than some people's homes!
Avery
was speechless, at a total loss for words, watching as TJ reached
into his blazer, producing a platinum card and handing it to a
gobsmacked Mr. Romero.
“Are...are
you absolutely certain, Mr. Jackson?” Mr. Romero stammered, taking
the rectangle of plastic, color draining from his face in disbelief.
“Yes.”
TJ gave a swift nod adding confidently,
“I
always know what I want.”
Audibly
Avery gulped, that hand seeking out her shoulder once more, as Mr.
Romero hastened to find a piece of paper and pen to jot down the card
number.
Once
found and the fountain pen scraped loudly, TJ turned back to her
inquiring,
“Is
it possible for you to show me The Atrium? I believe that's where you
said your gala would be held, right, Avery?”
For
the first time since he'd sat down, Avery dared look up at him.
Did
he have to be so heart-stoppingly handsome?
Did
he have any idea just how breathtaking he was?
How
he seemed a living breathing embodiment of the carved marble statues
filling the Louvre in Paris?
That
smile had never cracked and above it an eye winked playfully at her.
“Sure...anything...you
want...” She couldn't speak above a whisper, TJ rising from his
seat, again reaching and shaking Mr. Romero's hand.
“It
was a pleasure meeting you Sir, and doing business.”
“Same
here! Do...you want the box for the ring--” Mr. Romero began and TJ
spoke over him,
“She'll
wear it. It seems to go well with the green and white playsuit she
has on now. You can give the box to her father. I saw him out hitting
the links a while ago. Thank you.”
He'd
noticed her ensemble?
He
really had been watching and paying attention to her!
The
room was whirling.
He
tugged at the back of her chair, pulling it a few inches, indicating
she join him.
“Avery.”
She
found herself teetering in her suede platforms, taking the arm
offered her.
And
before she could bid Mr. Romero a farewell, TJ was escorting her
away.
*
* *
At
the very rear of the ornate, highly-appointed mansion serving as the
main clubhouse for the Nine Rivers Country Club, at the apex of what
seemed an endless stretch of twisting and winding corridors, down
many staircases over a century old, and beyond a pair of stained
glass windows in a green and amber scrolling leaf motif, was The
Atrium.
A
tremendous space it was, stretching out over a thousand square feet,
jam packed with hundreds of examples of rare flora and fauna from
around the world.
Under
a vaulted inlaid glass canopy, two stories overhead, the interior,
dating back to the late Victorian Era, boasted cream marble floors
and many Greek-style columns, plants in a variety of ornate urns and
vases.
In
the center of the floor a decorative koi pond was filled with
swimming, wriggling goldfish.
Off,
in the far corner, near French doors that opened to the back green of
the property a winding staircase, trimmed in creeping ivy vines,
connected the second story walkway circling the entire room, it's
polished brass sparkling in the late afternoon light, the small,
unobtrusive crystal chandeliers dangling above.
It
was on these winding stairs, that Avery Eduardo sat, poignantly
silent, near the bottom, hands wrapped around the cool metal spindles
supporting the banister.
Her
eyes fixed on TJ, a few yards away, his back to her, looking over a
bush full of peachy-pink cabbage roses.
She
didn't understand him, and Avery had always prided herself on being a
great judge of character when it came to the people she associated
herself with.
But
she couldn't put her finger on TJ.
Perhaps
she wasn't supposed to understand him.
Really,
did anyone understand the members of the Jackson family completely?
Did
they even understand themselves?
It
was hints, speculation and guesses at best.
She
only knew she was attracted to him and he intrigued her with his
combined confidence and strangeness.
It
seemed so silly, that someone like TJ, the son of one of the most
well-renowned musicians of all time, a celebrity in his own right,
would like her.
But
he wouldn't have thrown away close to two hundred thousand dollars on
a ring for someone he didn't care about.
Sure,
Avery had security in her appearance...but TJ seemed so far out of
her league.
He
was a Jackson, for crying out loud!
If
only TJ would say something...
He
hadn't spoken since entering The Atrium, only wandering hither and
to, observing the plants and smelling at the flowers.
The
silence was deafening.
For
the umpteenth time, she regarded the ring on her hand.
Twenty
carats of Colombian emerald circled by a further two carats of
baguette diamonds.
It
was hers to keep, wear as she liked, cherish for eternity.
Handed
to her so easily.
Was
this what it was like to be in this exclusive world of celebrity
offspring?
She
looked to him again.
The
broad shoulders, the wide hips, the plump, rounded backside pressing
against the jeans.
Did
he really like her...as she liked him?
Not
fully conscious of it, she spoke,
“You...didn't
have to buy me this ring, TJ. There was no need to be so
extravagant.”
There
was a soft chuckle, but he continued to face from her.
“It
didn't feel extravagant to me. I can afford it.” He replied simply,
plucking a rose from the bush and carefully removing the thorns.
“It
was almost two hundred thousand dollars! That's what a house
costs--”
“Where?
I'd like to know.” TJ challenged, crossing the floor swiftly to the
stair, peering down at her. “I'm a realtor. That's what I do—I
sell single family homes all over SoCal. Ground floor is half a mil,
easy. Way more than what your ring cost me.”
“You're
a realtor?” Avery met his gaze, eyes glassy with question..
She
had assumed, because of his last name, TJ was a man of leisure who
didn't lift a finger to work at all.
He
had a job?
“Just
because I'm a Jackson doesn't mean I don't pull my weight. Yeah, I'm
Tito's son and Michael's nephew—and my uncle left me a chunk of his
estate—but I wanted more than what was given to me. I was just
lucky I was born to whom I was born to. And I feel like, as a man, I
have to do something with my life. Leave a legacy one day. I plan to
open my own realty firm in the near future. Because I do want
to be known as more than 'Tito's son and Michael's nephew'.”
They
were both quiet, TJ raising a sneakered foot and placing it on the
very bottom step, leaning against his thigh.
She
could feel his eyes on her.
“That's
very noble of you....thank you for the ring, TJ....it's beautiful.”
She turned her hand over to ogle the gem again, unable to believe it
was hers to keep.
“It
pales in comparison to you.” TJ declared thoughtfully, the rose
held under her nose.
Taking
it and twirling it in her hands Avery stared down at it, asking what
had been nagging her all the day,
“Why...why
do you like me, TJ? Of all the women I'm sure you can pick and choose
from, why would you choose me? I'm...I'm no one special--”
“On
the contrary...” He nestled himself next to her on the stair. “You
are special, in my eyes.”
Her
mouth went dry and cottony and she could only stare at him in abject
amazement.
Special?
He thought she was special?
Avery
allowed him to take her hand in his kneading it gently, TJ continuing
thoughtfully,
“I
grew up privileged, around other people of similar means. Some were
good people, but not many. Most were spoiled brats, and elitists,
only thinking of their money, their inheritances and themselves.
Looking down on those poorer than them. Now, I know you have a
well-to-do background, but you didn't let it go to your head. You're
down-to-earth, grounded. When I met you, all you talked about was
your charity. How you wanted to do for others less fortunate than
yourself, after your mother's illness.”
Her
hand was squeezed, TJ looking off across the room at nothing in
particular.
“You
didn't have to do anything. You could have just gone back to your
life how it was before your mother got sick. But...no. You
decided you wanted to help others. And started Lorna's Love. And
you're putting together galas every year. You're only twenty-four.
And you're doing this without an event planner. It's all you. All of
this is your doing. That's remarkable, Avery.”
She
was blushing so hard, it was a wonder her entire body wasn't cherry
red.
“You're
an intelligent, capable, amazing woman Avery. I realized that the
moment I met you...I, uh...”
He
trailed off, his own head lowering and Avery gazed at him.
Admiring
him.
His
profile, the upturned nose, the pursed lips, the way his jawline was
clenching and releasing with tension and tentativeness.
“I'm....I'm
shy Avery...My family is well known for being shy when put on the
spot.” TJ finally said, a dry laugh following his statement.
Lashes
fluttering, Avery found herself inquiring,
“Do...do
I make you shy, TJ?”
“Yeah...”
She
made him shy?
Nervous?
A
man like him?
Oh,
how giddy she was!
The
light caught the gold in his eyes perfectly, and sumptuous lips
curled over his teeth with mischief, with him asking back,
“Do...I
make you shy...too?”
She
felt herself nod and overcome she turned her head from him, not
wanting TJ to see the fresh, hot color taking over her face and neck.
Gently
he took the rose from her hand.
And
she trembled as he traced along her darkening cheek with it.
“I'm
shy...you're shy...” He announced, the flower going over her
throat.
She
visibly trembled.
“Are
we going to stay shy or...”
He
leaned against her tightly, she was pushed into the spindles.
Her
heart thudding so loudly, she barely heard what he said next,
“Or...should
we get BOLD?”
His
hands, warm and clammy were suddenly on her shoulders, the rose
falling to the ground as he forced her to turn and face him.
She
caught but a brief glimpse of his face, the madness in his eyes, the
flaring of the nostrils, the way his tongue slid along his lips
dampening them.
His
lips!
They
were coming closer...
Closer...
Closer...
And
she fell limp in his arms, his mouth crushing hers, working, moving
against hers.
Effectively
sucking her very soul out of her weakened body.
Avery
felt herself going, off into a warm, inviting blackness.
She'd
never fainted from a kiss before.
Avery
had kissed her fair share of boys and men in her time...but TJ's kiss
stood apart.
All
this kisses before had been ground chuck.
TJ's
kiss was Prime Rib.
The
finest of the fine.
Avery
wasn't sure exactly how long she'd been down for the count, but when
she came to, she was still on the stairs, TJ's arms around her
possessively, his head held to his chest.
So
closely she could hear the measured heartbeats through his solid
breast.
His
cheek, smooth and supple against the top of her head, mashing her
curls.
Avery
was scarlet with embarrassment at her passionate gaff and she could
imagine the way he'd probably tease her.
Would
he just get up and walk away?
Never
to cast sight on her again?
Leave
her to wallow in shame and regret?
No...no...he
was still holding her.
He
was still holding her.
“Oh--”
She
was hugged tighter, his mouth first finding her blazing cheek and
then going after her mouth again, any trace of her coral-red gloss a
memory, only the faintest smudge appearing on HIS lips, and not hers.
If
he cared at all about her passing out, it went without mention.
There
was no pause for the mention of it.
Not
when he was kissing her off into oblivion.
She
was being pulled...
Pulled
into his lap, straddling him like the stallion he was.
His
hands rushing through her curls, caressing her, face burying in her
neck.
She
hugged after his long neck, only halfway present.
Was
this really happening?
Was
this the true here and now.
Was
she really in his arms, here, alone in The Atrium, quite ready to go
in any direction in which he led her?
As
his lips fell across her decollete, she whispered,
“What...what
are we doing?”
There
was a tugging after the fabric of her romper, the top slipping down,
allowing her breasts, the round, jutting bronze globes to be exposed,
the long face finding their way between them kissing the fragrant,
moist flesh.
Her
head fell back with a sigh as he spoke between the mounds in reply,
“What
do you think?”
Was
this real life?
Had
she fallen asleep?
Wasn't
she dreaming?
If
it was a dream, she never wanted to awaken.
Grinning
up at the stained glass over them, sunlight causing all within to
glow, she cackled,
“I
think you're trying to seduce me, TJ Jackson!”
He
kissed the outer rim of one of her fleshy areolas, hissing,
“And
to think...all this time I thought you were trying to seduce me!”
At
that revelation she pulled back, in wonder.
“Me?
Seduce you? How?” She squeaked, blowing a curl out of
her eyes, with them ever-widening.
Dd
he not realize who the hell he was?
What
all he was working with?
“Well...Avery...”
He hesitated, shrugging out of the navy blazer and flinging it up
onto the steps above them, revealing bulging, toned arms.
The
way the white cotton was stretching over his torso, it was clear TJ
Jackson took the greatest care of his physique as evidenced by the
muscles on him were plain, pressing against the fabric.
Had
he worn the shirt a size too small on purpose?
“Avery...”
He repeated, reaching and taking her hand, slightly twisting the
emerald on he hand back and forth. “I've liked you since I caught
you in the elevator the other day....now...”
TJ
paused glancing first upwards at the dark eyes trained on his face
then down at the exposed bosom.
“...to
be honest, I didn't know what you'd look like, because I'd only heard
of your foundation from Pops, but I never did look it up to see your
picture. I only knew a name and where I had to be because I was the
only one free. My brothers were tied up with their girlfriends...I
saw you on the elevator and, I couldn't shut up about that semi
flipping--”
“--and
you stealing jars of Nutella!” Avery interjected and TJ hooted with
amusement.
“You
actually paid attention to what I said!...but I saw you getting on
the elevator...I just wanted to talk to you...You...”
He
faltered and his head dropped, further toying with the ring.
“You
were so pretty...dressed so lovely...your...your figure spoke to
me...”
Avery
felt a little whoosh of air leave her mouth, but was unable to
compile an intelligent response.
“You
looked like what go for...sweet, attractive...all those curves going
on, girl...”
His
teeth were flashing again, his chest visibly rising and falling.
Was...Avery
squinted...was he becoming excited?
She
was exciting him?
“That's
why I was trying to see you again, as soon as could. That's why I
kind of jumped the gun in taking you to your gala--”
“I'm
honored to be your date!” She gasped, and impulsively with her
free, cupped his cheek, moving up through the springy jet coils, the
organized chaos atop his head.
“Oh...TJ!”
Hand
on the back of his head, he was jerked forward, the plump lips of
his little lover colliding with his, with a fresh, renewed passion.
Lips
smacking working, frenzied breaths being shared, hands traveling to
places they hadn't yet seen.
And
suddenly, TJ broke free, pulling back, being jostled as Avery
clutched after the V-neck of his tee, now stained with smears of her
foundation and blush.
“I'm....I'm
not just asking you to be my date to the gala, Avery...” He
spoke in a hushed, hot voice that caused her to quiver to her very
core.
“Like
I said before; I always know what I want—and I want you.”
The
dark eyes lit, washing over his face in stunning, mouth falling open
but producing no sound.
And
leaving the elder of the pair to voice what she was now thinking but
lacking the ability to speak,
“I
want us to be together, I want to date you...be you boyfriend...if
you'll let me. I want us to be together, Avery...”
Her
hand was brought to his mouth with him smooching the top of it.
Staring
down at her smooth flesh, he further intoned,
“I
knew when you mentioned your gala, I wanted to escort you, and I
couldn't bear the thought of dropping you home afterwards and never
seeing you again; having you walk out of my life. I can't do it...”
His
head came up and he sneered.
“I
won't!”
Holding
his face, cradling that wondrous visage in her own two hands, Avery
beamed back at him, through the panic, the worry, the fear in his
eyes casting a look of insanity to such a face that need not ever
show such an expression.
Leaning
forward and pecking his lips, she giggled into his mouth,
“You
won't have to.”
It
was then Avery rose to her feet, TJ's turn to stare.
As
the green and white floral fabric of the romper fell from her
shoulders, from her body and landed at her ankles.
Leaving
her in only a pair of faint, chartreuse panties, that as she turned
and started to mount the stairs for the second level, revealed to be
a thong.
And
beckoned by the two, large, firm, sinewy masses jiggling away from
him, TJ Jackson beaming devilishly, leapt to his feet to bid follow.
*
* *
Avery
Eduardo was having an out of body experience.
Or
at least what she figured to be an out of body experience.
Truly
the closest she had ever come to death herself was when she was six
and had taken a tumble into the Vineyard Sound during a vacation to
Cape Cod. But as she had only been underwater for less than two
minutes, pulled to safety by one of her elder cousins, Avery hadn't
really had that much time for her soul to leave its vessel.
Yet,
as Avery clutched the polished railing before her, she felt in
something of a fog.
Like
she wasn't entirely based in reality.
She
couldn't have been.
Everything
appeared as it had less than ten minutes earlier; The Atrium was
sparse and quiet, only the greenery to keep her company.
Down
below the fish swam, with a few making leaps through the air, and
splashing upon reentry.
Her
view shifting a few inches back and forth, back and forth, back and
forth.
White-knuckling
the railing, Avery forced herself to peer back and over her
shoulders.
Back
at TJ, positioned behind her, hands firmly on her waist, rhythmically
throwing his hips into her over and over, watching the mass at the
base of her spine rippling with each stroke.
This
couldn't be real...but it was.
She
was there in the nude, along with TJ, doing such a private act in a
such a public place.
Oh
she only recalled glimpses of what led them there.
TJ
ripping his clothes off, grabbing onto her, kissing, licking, sucking
his way down the front of her body.
She
could still feel his lips, so warm and moist, gliding over her
cheeks,d own her throat.
Over
her breasts where he had taken his time to kiss each darker brown
nipple.
Kissed
at her flat, but dimpled little belly, stopping with one single peck
to her right thigh.
It
was there, resting on his heels, he'd stared at her triangle, freshly
shorn and covered in goosepimples of anticipation.
Oddly,
TJ didn't kiss after her second set of lips.
Instead,
he'd ogled it several moments, gingerly poking at it with an index
finger.
As
if he couldn't make sense of it being his and there for his
discretion.
It
was there, he'd sat, his head popping up to peer at his lover, than
he confided, his oice dry, and coarse,
“I
need you now...Right Now!”
He'd
grabbed her, his hands running wild over her young, willing and able
body.
And
there they were.
Wholly
in the nude, doing what came naturally under such circumstances.
How
gorgeous TJ was.
So
muscular, so built, the light sheen of sweat such action could induce
drawing out every, succulent dimple and wave to his majestic form.
How
good he felt to her.
Lovers
had come and gone in Avery's short life, but, in that moment, none
could hold a candle to TJ Jackson.
Not
only was he beautiful, with a body to die for, but also possessed an
endowment, that if common knowledge, would have caused great scorn
and envy.
And
not the endowment that filled his bank account either.
The
curly head drifted forward, weakening at the girth that had been
pressed, connecting them.
Yes,
TJ was large, Avery had seen that, but to feel it was a
completely different plane.
Feeling
him, it seemed a wonder he even fit.
Not
only was he very long, but quite wide around and Avery's pink folds
stretched, strained and expanded near to their limit to accommodate
him.
She
wanted to take him. Every bit of him, no matter the cost.
It
was then as he was settling himself into place, his arms wrapping her
waist, his mouth finding the back of her neck, that Avery realized
the cost.
That
twenty carat emerald on her hand.
Close
to two hundred thousand dollars had been the price.
And
it was well worth every single copper penny.
Was
this how things happened for Jacksons?
Was
this how the men claimed their conquests?
What
exactly did that assemblage of emerald, diamonds and gold mean?
Were
they a couple?
More?
Less?
Stuck
in some odd grey area?
Avery
didn't have time to contemplate the existential crisis.
TJ's
groin was bumping against her backside causing the mounds to ripple
rhythmically.
The
fur covering him as soft as cotton, at odds with the each bone
crushing thrust he was so expertly planting.
“Grrr!
Grrr! Grrr! Gah! Gah! Gah! TJ! Ah! TJ! Gah!”
With
each pass she was certain her back would snap, but Avery hardly
cared.
If
TJ broke her back, she'd gladly have it broken.
“Yes!
Yes! You're perfect! You're perfect! God, you're perfect!” TJ
hissed behind her, sucking first at her neck, the sliding his lips
down over her arcing spine, the movements down below never ceasing.
Perfect.
He
thought she was perfect.
“God,
you're so tight! Holy shit! Oh,Baby!”
“OW!”
Avery's head drooped, his hand smacking her backside.
There
was a shift, TJ, momentarily running those strong, large hands over
her bosom, jiggling them much to her delight.
His
hands found her biceps and she was pulled so that her back curved
more and he was plunging more deeply into her.
The
resulting shriek caused him to switch tactics in a hurry, lest she
bring the entire populace of the Nine Rivers Country Club to come see
them in such a.... compromised manner.
One
arm stayed looped through her arms, under the elbows, his free hand
finding her mouth and covering it.
“I
know it's getting good to you, all the noise you're making!” He
taunted haughtily, movements slowing, but not lessening her pleasure.
Her
shoulder was kissed.
She
could only whimper into his hand, sagging back into him, as the pace
once more picked up and increased.
“Mmm!
Mmm! MMM!”
“Shhhhh!
Shhhh!”
TJ
cautioned into her ear.
“I
know it's good! I know it's good!” He repeated, hands slipping down
to touch her bosom.
Cradling
the Double D's he pressed his chest to her back, his chin upon her
shoulder, his hot breaths in her ear and causing all the curls in the
way to dance with each exhale he made.
“TJ...TJ...TJ...TJ...”
She
began to chant his name like a lusty mantra.
Yes,
he was good, and getting too good to her at the same time.
As
the pair began to perspire, the scent of expensive cologne and
perfume giving way to aroma of pleasure, Avery found herself losing
her grip on her sanity.
“TJ!
TJ! TJ! DAMN IT! STOP! NO! TJ!”
She
wailed into his palm, her legs starting to tremble, a tell-tale sign
to the man who was steadily pounding away at her, that she was
reaching her peak, rapidly.
Avery
bucked three times, in a failed effort to get away from him, to stop
the rush that was bearing down n her like an untamed tsunami.
“Aaaaah!
Aaaaah! Aaaaaah!”
Her
head whipped back and forth, the hand muffling her never losing its
place as she screamed liked a caged animal.
Warm
liquid starting to gush from around that ramming rod and dampening
both their feet.
“Yes!
Yes! Yes! I love it! Yes!” He encouraged her excitedly, his
voice a hushed whisper of adoring.
“Bet
you've been holding that in for so long!”
TJ
threw his head back and cackled, not caring whom heard, as Avery,
fell forward, exhausted, her upper half dangling limply and
precariously over the threshold.
Her
nether regions continuing to be rocked with increasing intensity as
it was now getting very close to TJ's matching her...downpour.
“Don't
worry Baby...” His comment came out as a sneer, his voice
dropping a few octaves, a new breathiness wheedling its way into his
tone.
“...I'm
almost there....it's almost over...OH GOD!”
“Oh!
Oh! OH! OH! Oh! OH! Oh!”
The
ramming at her backside went absolutely nuclear and to keep from
falling to certain death amid a splash of blood and crush of
fractured bones, Avery clung to that brass for dear life.
“Aw!
Aw! Eeeeee! Aw! Eeeee! Aw shit! Aw!”
TJ
keened harshly, falling forward as Avery had, the meat which had
connected them slipping out and settling on the crevice splitting her
glorious cheeks.
Embracing
her tighter, he smooched the flesh behind her ear as two explosions
burst forth from the dimpled tip between them, leaving an ooze of
passion to drip down her backside.
“You...you
were all I needed...” He murmured, turning her to face him.
His
face, now glistening, with sleepy, tired eyes from such exertion
glowed with renewed desire.
An
expression mirrored by the red-cheeked face gazing up at him so
warmly.
It
was unmistakable.
The
look of love.
*
* *
A
Few Weeks Later
“...near,
far...wherever you are...I believe that the heart does....go on....”
The
Atrium, lit by dozens of white hanging Chinese lanterns, contrasting
so sharply and beautifully with the foliage, lit the hundreds gala
goers packed onto the floor, waltzing as a torch singer gave her
rendition of the timeless classic.
Near
the center of the throng of the best of the best of Coventry Hills
society, most of the eyes drifted towards the couple.
The
tall, handsome man, resplendent in a sharp tuxedo with a green bow
tie and cummerbund, so perfectly matching the strapless,
sweetheart-necked gown of the alluring woman he was slowly dipping.
How
radiant they were. How happy, their miles so large.
Almost
as large as the emeralds gleaming from her pressure points.
But
the pair only saw one another as they danced.
“Are...are
you happy, Sweetness?” TJ questioned, pressing his cheek to Avery's
careful not to muss her makeup.
“Soooo
happy!” She giggled, feeling drunker than if she'd downed a whole
magnum of wine. “Not only am I on the arm of the sexiest man
in the building, but for the first time ever, Lorna's Love surpassed
its one million dollar mark!”
“You
heard how I screamed when your mother revealed how much we'd raised!”
TJ laughed, pecking her lips.
“And
you heard how I screamed when your father and uncles presented us
with a check for seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars—Papa
fainted!” Avery beamed, never having been so happy in all her life
as they passed by the table where here parents, along with four
spankingly dressed men all returned the smiles and waved.
Avery
Eduardo had long wanted to be a charitable person, to help others.
But
this had been the first time she'd ever recalled benefiting from her
own work.
