The Art of Me (The All of Me Book 1) Read online

  Now sitting in the hospitality room after dinner, I’m caught up in watching my father and his siblings make fun of each other. My father is one of twelve children and he falls in at number eight. Personally, I’d wear that number like the ballplayers do. Hey, I’m number eight. That would be so funny, but there are only two in my family and Joelle wants nothing to do with me.

  My dad’s older brother Maxim, has gone around the table asking each of us what we were before we were reincarnated. I laugh and say Cleopatra and my uncle goes into a five-minute discourse on why he thinks I feel that way. I should have thrown him off and said Mary Cartwright, a British mathematician in the early 1900’s and the first to analyze a dynamical system with chaos. I guess I’m feeling a little chaotic right now. But I didn’t think that’s what he was going for, so I gave him something grander.

  My father’s peer pressuring has me on my second shot of Arak, its taste similar to Uzo. He tells me it will put hair on my chest, I wonder if he knows I’m female and we generally frown on that sort of thing. I think he wanted a boy, hence my name, but I don’t mind doling it out with him and my uncle. It makes me happy to see my dad in this light. I’m laughing and shooting the shit, when my sister and her evergreen cheer squad hit the room.

  “Charles, what the fuck are you wearing?” She yells from across the room, and she purposely kills my name. I look down noting my AG rollup skinny jeans and my black tank top. I mean yes, there are some rips in them but that was the eleven-year journey look that made it costly. I paired the outfit with super cute Tory Burch wedge leather sandals in black. I don’t think I look so bad.

  “I thought we were getting bachelorette party shirts. Did you want me to change?” Better not to poke the bear. I’m now standing before her, trying to make up the four-inch height difference by broadening my shoulders. Who am I kidding?

  “Mother!” she screams at the top of her lungs. Calling for backup. I look over at my father and everyone else that have a front row seat of Jaded Joelle the Judgmental Jackass.

  Mother appears out of nowhere. Maybe she’s a genie or a vampire. I glance at the ornate mirror on the wall to see if she has a reflection. Damn it, it’s there. “What’s wrong, Elle?”

  “Charlie isn’t cooperating. Look what she’s wearing. How am I supposed to be seen with her? This is my night, mother. She’s already ruining it and we haven’t left the hotel yet,” my sister gripes, rather loudly, to mother and quite possibly the rest of the room.

  “Oh Charlie, can’t you be cooperative for one weekend? Honestly, what am I going to do with you? Please, don’t test me. Go and change your clothes,” Mother says giving me a dirty look. If she could see her forehead all scrunched up like that, I bet she wouldn’t do it. Time for some more Botox.

  Again, I look to my father for some backup. Hey, Jo got backup. Tit for tat, right?

  “Father, are you going to step in and help me? I didn’t even do anything,” I ask in Hebrew.

  “Please sweetie, just do what they want. It’ll make things easier,” he replies.

  Some help. My warm Arak buzz is now gone. “What would you like for me to change into?” I ask dejectedly, my eyes on the floor.

  Mother smiles and pats Jo on the back. “See honey, she can be reasonable. Remember, you’re supposed to have fun tonight. Relax.” She gives me a pointed look and walks back to her hostess-ing duties.

  Joelle smiles triumphantly. “We’re going to City Walk and will probably club hop there, so you need to look good. Not like this shit.” She motions to her cheer guard who throws a Pepto-Bismal pink midriff showing tank at me. “Put this on, fix your hair, put on makeup, put on a skirt, and get some decent shoes. That’s all I ask. Oh, and the limo will be here to pick us up in fifteen minutes, so you better be downstairs and ready to go!”

  She sniffs and walks away with her little posse in toe. Oh, tonight will be fun. I turn to look at my dad, who immediately takes another shot.

  “You…you’re on the top of my shit list!” I nearly shout at him in Hebrew, hoping that most of the guests won’t understand.

  I know, that was rude. But if she gets to yell at me, then I feel it only fair to share the love.

  After racing to my room and changing, I still manage to get to the limo on time. Though my sister guffawed anyway.

  Up and down we trolled City Walk. I got two Hurricanes from Pat O’Brien’s. Damn those things were good, and I figure it’s the only way to survive the evening; to be highly intoxicated. We had shots at some Bob Marley place and then danced some reggae.

  On Jo’s shirt, it lists all of these crazy stunts she has to complete tonight, like kissing a bald guy on the head. I took great liberty to make sure each task was successfully achieved and since she was just as blitzo as I, she willingly agreed. I think it was the most fun we’ve ever had with each other. Guys were hitting on us left and right and I kept screaming to randoms that my sister was getting married. We didn’t even have to pay for a single drink.

  The Hurricanes had caught up with me, and the girls finally found me a toilet, but when I got out, they were gone. My vision had doubled by that point, so I wandered for about fifteen minutes hoping to find a familiar face.

  They ditched me. I shouldn’t be surprised. Jo isn’t my number one fan, but even this seems a bit mean for her. Trying to keep myself together I find some stairs and crouch down. The hotel is at least twenty minutes away. Maybe I could call my dad to come get me. He might be sympathetic. Mother would no doubt blame me. I grab my cell out of my back pocket and call. He doesn’t answer.

  My mind is a complete blank as I stare at my shiny cell. Cell, do you have the answer? It’s moving as it stares back at me. It looks like it’s winking but it doesn’t have a solution. I close one eye in the hopes of finding a local taxi number to pick me up. Everything is getting blurry and I’m getting panicky. I tilt my head one way, then the next, but the words aren’t straightening up. Instead they look like they’re moving on the screen. I start laughing loudly. I’m so screwed. I will probably black out soon. Maybe I need some food to soak up some of this alcohol.

  I attempt to stand up but nearly topple over. Wow, I don’t remember gravity being so strong. “Careful,” some guy says walking over to me and putting his arms around me.

  “Don’t touch her!” comes a deep voice on the other side of me. It’s strange because he totally sounds like Coen. And upon closer examination, he looks like him, too. A Coen look alike…this could be fun!

  “Chill out, guy. She looked like she was gonna fall. Just wanted to help.” He raises his hands and backs away.

  Coen look alike comes over, picks me up, and carries me in his arms. Wow. Coen look alike is strong. I can’t help but reach out and touch his face.

  I giggle out. “Youuu look sooo much like Coennnn. Disguuu know thattt?” Look at that nose. That is such a pretty nose. I rub the bridge. It’s so straight but wavy. I doubt it has ever been broken. Mine has been broken. But Coen is too perfect to ever be broken. “Yurr not brokkkin,” I sigh aloud.

  He keeps walking with a solemn look on his face. I think he’s mad at me. Why not, everybody else is, right? “Yurrr mmmad.” I pout.

  “Don’t worry about it, close your eyes. I’ll get you back to the hotel,” he says without meeting my questioning face. He is mad.

  I don’t want to be near him. I want to go away. Away from my family. Away from the trio, and away from Coen.

  “Stop it! You’re going to fall if you keep squirming, Charlie!” He’s so angry. I didn’t even realize I was wiggling.

  “Pooot me durnnn, COO-innn. I dunnnneed you. I wurrd ave binnn fine. Lemmme gooo!” The tears are clogging my throat and the alcohol is slurring my speech. I push at his chest but nothing happens. I’m too weak. I can barely see now and he knows this is a losing fight for me.

  I must have passed out for a minute because I find myself being jostled into a car.

  “It looks like you found Ms. Paz,” someone states in the front
seat while starting the car. Coen closes the door and moves behind the car to enter next to me. He gives me a strange look and then pulls my head onto his lap. Clinging to me. He’s wearing a pink polo and khaki board shorts. How a guy can look so hot in pink, I don’t know.

  With my ear pressed to his upper thigh, I feel him running his fingers through my hair. I hear his breathing regulate and find it soothing.

  His breaths. His fingers. His thigh.

  Coen is here.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Something hard is underneath me. I try to arch away from it but it only brings on more pain. It feels like there’s a marching band in my head. Bang, bang, bang, step, march, march, march. Crash the cymbals. Drumline go; ticky tank, ticky tank, ticky tank, ticky tank, tank, tank.

  I already know I’m not going to like what I see when I open my eyes, so I think I’ll keep them shut a bit longer.

  “I know you’re awake.” Is that the drum major? Somebody shut him up. “If you open your eyes, I’ll give you something for that headache.”

  I throw my arm over my eyes, just in case they thump out with all the banging. “Nnnnoooo!”

  He exhales and I feel his heat creep towards me. His breaths are even and soft and I can smell how minty it is. “I met your mom last night.”

  I jackhammer up. Shaking my head, I pray that he’s lying. “You’re joking, right? Please be joking.”

  He reaches over and tucks some of my mangled tresses behind one ear. His hand lingers there for a few seconds before moving it away. He puts the pills in my hand and a bottle of Gatorade in the other. He thinks twice, grabs the drink, opens the top, and replaces it in my hand. He waits with his brows raised. I swallow down everything and match his stare. “Well….”

  “She caught me carrying you in last night. She demanded to know who I was.”

  “Sounds about right. So, what did you say?”

  “I gave her my name.”

  “I know it wasn’t that simple. Tell me the rest.”

  “Okay, she wasn’t appreciative of your predicament. And, love, I had to agree with her.”

  “Those words should never, ever come from your mouth!”

  “You could have been seriously hurt, Charlie. I do not condone you risking your life!”

  I stand up, using the wall for guidance. I don’t need this. I look around. Am I in my room or his?

  “Is this your room?”

  He nods. “I needed to make sure you were okay. You were sick all night. That’s why you’re on the fucking floor.” He paces and shakes his head. “What did you expect me to do?”

  I walk over to the sink, run my hands under the cool water, and splash some on my face. That feels better. Then Coen hands me a toothbrush. I look at it, puzzled.

  “It’s yours…”

  I nod and he leaves. I guess he wants me to brush my teeth. After doing my morning business, I walk out of the bathroom to find I’m in the penthouse. This room is definitely much larger than mine. Coen stands with his back to me, he appears to be looking out of the window. The sun is shining. It casts a light glow around him creating a stunning silhouette.

  What.

  A.

  Guy.

  “What are you doing here, Coen?”

  “Taking care of you,” he states, still facing the window.

  “No, what are you doing here, in Orlando?”

  He turns and walks towards me. His hand moves slowly around my waist and pulls me towards him. His mouth dips low and he whispers, “Taking care of you.”

  His hand inches up, skimming my outer breast. It keeps climbing and then grips my neck. His thumb brushes my upper lip. “The scarring is lightening up.”

  I nod and he continues whispering. “Been in any more fights?”

  I nod, again. His brows crease and he scans my face, I guess looking for any more injuries or bruising.

  I take his hand that is still around my waist and move it to cover my heart. “Here’s where I took a beating.”

  He closes his eyes and swallows loudly. He pulls me closer and rests his forehead on the top of my head. We stand like that for several moments until we hear a strange trilling sound. Uh oh, the marching band has come back with wind instruments.

  He gives me a quick squeeze and walks into the other room. I follow.

  “Collins,” he answers while pushing the phone to his ear. “Yes, Mrs. Paz, how are you this afternoon.” Oh no. What time is it? “Of course, she didn’t forget her hair appointment. I just couldn’t seem to let her go.” He chortles like they’re sharing some inside joke. I am not liking this! “Can I have my girl for a smidge longer?” He grunts a few more times. “Yes, of course. Excellent. Looking forward to it! I’ll send her down soon!” He makes a few more agreeable sounding noises and then ends the call. He turns to me smiling.

  “Why does mother have your cell?”

  “Because we’re practically family, my heart,” he states it as though this were obvious. “Now, we need to get you fed, showered, and changed in less than thirty minutes. You have a hair appointment at the spa and then makeup in the bridal suite.” He marches over to where…wait, is that my bags?

  “How…how…”

  “Ssshhh love…” He puts his finger on my lips. “Go and get dressed, we don’t have time.” He pulls my luggage to the bathroom in one hand and my arm in the other. “Step to it!” he says as he taps my ass, and then he leaves the room after closing the door.

  Apparently, the meds are taking their time to kick in, because this morning is all types of confusing.

  After a fast shower and throwing on some jean shorts and a tight black Five Finger Death Punch tee, I make my way back to Coen. He’s dressed and is sitting at a table reading the paper and drinking coffee.

  He smiles when he sees me. “Feel better? Sit down…we have something to discuss and not much time to do it in.”

  “Thank you for collecting my things. This looks lovely, thank you.” I smile while looking at the delicious set up of food. After sitting down, he pushes my seat forward and returns to the seat across from me. I grab a croissant and start digging in.

  I see him glance at his watch. “Charlie, last night, while I was carrying you into the hotel, I came across both of your parents. As I mentioned earlier, your mother wasn’t pleased with the situation. I had to calm her down.”

  “Okay…” I’m edging him on. It sounds like there’s much more to this story.

  “I sat down with them, with you in my arms, and we spoke about a number of things.” He looks at his watch again. It appears to be a Movado with a black face and silver links. It looks dark against his pale complexion, almost out of place. “Shit, we don’t have much time. I wish I could explain things better.” He stares at me and begins to chew on his thumbnail.

  “Just spit it out.”

  I take a sip of the orange juice and watch him over my cup.

  “We’re engaged.”

  I spit. Yes, very unladylike, but I literally spit the juice out and start coughing. I may be convulsing, too. He runs around the table to pat me on the back.

  “Just breathe, love. Take another sip.” He puts the cup to my mouth and I try to swallow the liquid slowly. I mustn’t have heard him right.

  After catching my breath, I question. “Umm, would you mind repeating that? I don’t think I heard you properly.”

  “By your response, I’m guessing that indeed, you did. I told your parents that we’re engaged. I didn’t like the way they spoke of you. I wanted to have a legitimate claim to make them stop.”

  Heat floods my cheeks. I can only imagine what atrocities they spoke of. As shocking as all of this is, I’m not mad. Again, it’s more hurt. I slowly exhale through an open mouth.

  “They believed you?”

  “Of course. Despite what you think, I’m quite a catch, love.” There’s Cocky.

  “Ha…yes, I know you are. But we’ve only known each other for roughly, what, seven weeks? And I’ve never mentioned you. I
mean, this just…I mean…” I can’t seem to track a thought. My parents, and by now with the gossip queens, my entire family, think that I’m engaged to Coen Collins. The same man who is on the Forbes top twenty bachelors of America list. None of this is computing.

  “Charlie…relax, love.” He smiles with softness in those arctic eyes while smoothing my wet hair. “I know I pushed…I shouldn’t have said anything to them. But I could tell you were hurting. They made you hurt. I wanted to make things better. You were…” He takes a breath. I hate the way his voice is breaking. “Please…give me this. You can tell them…I don’t know, that we ended or something later. You were hurting and it was fucking killing me, baby! Just give me a couple of days.”

  He closes his eyes and rests his head on my shoulder. “Won’t they ask about a ring?” Meh, might as well enjoy some diamonds. What’s done is done. Maybe having Coen here will take the heat off of me.

  He lifts his head and smiles. “Just like that, huh?” I join him in smiling and nod. He kisses my forehead and stands. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a box and places it on the table in front of me. I look at him with a raised brow. This is handy.

  He shakes his head and points at the box. “Don’t look at me like that. I had Davis pick this one up this morning. If this was a real engagement, I would have had the piece created specifically for you. But, since we didn’t have time….” He rolls his arm.

  I open the velvet box and the light catches on the most dazzling looking stone I’ve ever seen.

  Maybe this was last minute, but wow, he didn’t skimp.

  I slide the gorgeous addition onto my finger. “Well, it’s not the most romantic proposal…” I smirk at him. “Is it from Cartier?”

  He nods.