Forbidden Fruit (4 page)

“
Are you coming or leaving?” I asked, trying to shake his intense gaze.

He finally released his hold and answered, “Leaving actually, you?”

“
Leaving,” I confirmed. “I have to get busy shopping.”

“
New clothes?” he asked as if he thought the idea of clothes may be funny, a very strange comment coming from a pretty boy who obviously dressed to impress, head to toe in designer clothing.

“
Actually, I am trying to find a gift for my gran…I mean Rose.” I rolled my eyes to myself. I was surprised to find that I was consciously aware of her name specification even when she was nowhere to be seen.

“
Her Birthday?” he guessed.

“
Yep,” I confirmed, “It’s not every day your grandmother turns thirty,” I added, immediately feeling bad for the slight. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t being myself at all, but rather someone I didn’t like.

His perfectly straight and brilliantly white teeth gleamed. I noticed for the first time, he had cute little dimples on either side of his perfect mouth. I wondered how many girls that smile had worked on. How many pieces of clothing were removed for that charming, irresistible grin, not to mention those eyes?

“
Having any luck?” he asked.

“
Huh?”
Oh god
, I’m such an idiot, I was lost in his eyes once more, completely forgetting what we were discussing. I tried to shake the image of what a dumb-blonde I must have looked like with a huge question mark plastered on my face. “Ah, no, actually, she buys everything she wants, so I am pretty much left with nothing to get her except some random gift she will likely have to feign liking.”

He curled his hand in front of his face, examining his finger nails. “All you have to do is ask…”

I did need help, but I had to wonder what help he could offer. What did he know about older women? I accepted mostly to get him to stop with the feminine gesture. I found it difficult to take flamboyant and dramatic people seriously. Rolling my eyes, I asked, “Jason, will you help me find a gift?”

“
Why I thought you would never ask,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me out the shop and down the street. His hand felt warm and alien at the same time. I liked the feeling. There was always excitement in new things. Cars, clothes, boys, they were all things that made me feel like I was floating, but then they always got old and lost their excitement.

I wondered how people stayed in love for twenty or thirty years. I hoped one day I would find someone who never tired of me. So far, my love life had been nonexistent. Most people assume I have experience with dating. Hell, I think most people assume I have had sex. In truth, I have never been past first base and that is no exaggeration. Even Bailey doesn’t believe that. I am a seventeen-year-old, completely inexperienced virgin. But it’s not for lack of trying, it’s for lack of options. I can count on one hand the number of boyfriends who have stuck around for longer than two weeks. Unfortunately, none have lasted a full month. Sometimes I think I have a biological repulsion mechanism that runs through my veins.

I suddenly realized I was comfortable with Jason. And that was off. “Where’s your brother?” I asked looking around.

“
You interested in him?” he asked, irritation clear on his face.

“
No, not at all.” Then I blushed realizing how rude I sounded. “I mean, I just always see the two of you together, that’s all.”

He eyed me suspiciously, a question clearly on his lip. Then he dropped it.

“
So tell me about Ms. Rose. What does she like, what makes her happy?” He seemed amused, swinging our hands between us.

“
Well, she likes to drink and go out dancing. She likes men; I think she’s single right now…” I stopped short, realizing I was painting Rose in the worst possible light. I made an addendum, “She’s really a great person. I mean,” I found myself searching for words.

“
She enjoys life,” he suggested.

“
Exactly,” I felt relieved he hadn’t looked at me like a terrible person for speaking of an elderly woman in such a way. I could hear the disapproval in my own voice as I described her fancies. Perhaps he had a Rose in his family too.

“
Does she have a favorite place? A favorite past time?” He inquired.

I thought a minute as we strolled lazily down the street, passing stores fashioned from antique buildings. “She loves tons of places. She travels as a hobby.” Just another sign of her privileged life, though I didn’t dare complain aloud. I was, after all, a benefactor of said privilege.

“
Where’s her favorite travel spot?” Jason fished, bumping a shoulder with mine as we walked, still hand in hand.

“
Paris.” It was like an epiphany. “That’s it! She has been talking lately about going back, maybe she would like something Parisian.” I was relieved, “Thanks,” I said through a blushing grin of my own. “But where would I find something Parisian in Charleston?” I asked, glancing down the street, but not really looking, I was too busy reclaiming my vision from his intimate stare.

“
How about this?” he grabbed my shoulders, and spun me around to face the window display of the little shop, less than two feet from my face.

I sucked a little gasp of air. What lay before me was the most perfect framed painting of Paris at night I had ever seen. Not the modern day city, but rather the city in full bloom of the Renaissance. “It's perfect!”

I darted into the little boutique and eyed the artwork. What luck, I thought. Jason pops up, and I immediately find what I’ve been looking for all day. I swear I didn’t see that painting the first time I walked by.

Strange
…Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself, it’s just a coincidence.

Jason came to my side, “Awesome,” he agreed.

I didn’t bother asking the clerk for the price before I told her I would take it. A year ago, I wouldn’t have made such a lofty purchase, but this was for Rose and technically, it was Rose’s money that was buying it. Who was I to cut corners for her birthday? I gave the clerk my card and signed it without looking at the total. She took her time wrapping it and then formed a perfect, hand-made bow.

Jason wasn’t just easy on the eyes, he was easy to talk to. That is when he wasn’t giving me that ‘I want to taste you’ look. I was so lost in our conversation that I was surprised to find my house right in front of me. Jason had walked me all the way home, carrying the large, awkward painting. “Thanks,” I told him sincerely.

“
No problem,” he winked at me.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face, and then as usual, said the first thing that came to mind. “Hey, if you aren’t doing anything later, you could drop by for the party.”

He smiled.

“
Oh, I’m sorry I forgot about Eric’s party. I’m sure you’re already going to that one,” I back pedaled. Of course he was. He was the new boy toy that Lacy had her eyes on.

“
I was,” he conceded with a nod, “But I think I would prefer going to the party where you’ll be.” There was another one of those skin piercing, penetrating gazes. He was
really
cute. No, he was more than cute, he was hot, and his personality made him charming and irresistible. He looked like an Abercrombie poster boy, yet he just ditched the teen queen for an old lady’s birthday. I had to admit, I was intrigued.

“
Well,” I spun around, now facing my house, “this is the site.” I waved a hand at the large, stately, white columned mansion. “People should be arriving around nine o’clock.”

“
Great,” he beamed. I thought he sounded a little too enthused for the event, but I was flattered all the same.

We said an awkward good bye that included an extra long hand caress, as he handed me the painting. Then I headed toward the house, more than a little excited about my new date.

 
By six-thirty I was knee deep in balloons with Gail, the party planner hired for most of Rose's parties. The theme for this year was all things sparkly, silver and white, a tribute to Rose's favorite things: diamonds, platinum, and pearls. I wondered if anyone else would recognize the irony of the colors.

Wow, where was the mean girl attitude coming from? I mentally chided myself again, feeling terribly bratty for my thoughts of late. Whatever had gotten into me yesterday apparently had not left. I didn’t judge others, I was grateful for the life Rose had given me. I could be in an orphanage right now.

I shook my head.
Back to business
. Thus far, I had successfully filled over five hundred white balloons with helium and attached sparkling spiraled ribbon to each. When finished, the house would look like a castle opening into a never-ending white shimmering cloud of a sky, or at least that was the look Gail was going for. There were beautiful white lilies and orchids arranged on every surface. Furniture had been restructured for ease in traffic flow and tall cocktail tables had been added for conversational areas. I added my own touch to the party by bringing down my favorite picture of Rose. She was nearly seventeen years old when it was taken, and she was an absolute beauty queen. I rubbed a finger over the glass. She had the same delicate features and glowing skin my mom had.

At seven-thirty I rushed upstairs to figure out what to wear. I knew all Rose's guests would be donning fancy suites and cocktail dresses. I wanted to fit in, so I searched my bedroom-sized closet for options. There were a few exceptional gowns that Rose had clearly picked out with care. She had a knack for fashion that I envied. Most days I was lucky to pick out an outfit that matched. I chose at random a beautiful peach colored dress with spaghetti straps and slipped it on. It was a flattering fit that fell into a light and flowing thigh length drop.

I twisted my hair into an elegant pile with pretty glittering pins, and then touched up my makeup. Looking into the mirror, I immediately felt both gorgeous and out of place. I saw a girl who looked grown in all areas anatomical, yet her eyes betrayed her innocence. I wondered then if that was some sort of omen. Was I trying to live in a world that I didn't belong, one I wasn’t ready for?

I shook my head of all negative thoughts; I was here and that was reality. There is no place for doubt, Rose would tell me. If you live under the shadow of doubt, you will get left behind.

I spritzed myself with sweet pea body spray and gave one last look in the mirror. There was no place for me here, but until I found my place, I would try to have fun in the land of opportunity and abundance. With a self-reassuring pep talk, I made my way to the party that should just be starting.

As I rounded the stairwell, I heard the unmistakable, shrieking voice of our neighbor. "It’s as if I am in heaven! Oh Janice, how do you do it?" Mrs. Middleton exclaimed, placing a patronizing pat on the party planner’s shoulder. I couldn't help to correct, "Gail. And yes she is the best!" Then I flashed an ‘I'm sorry’ smile at Gail, our hard working event planner.

Mrs. Middleton placed a hand across her heart as if it made her next line mean so much more. "Why, how could I mess that up! Of course, I have been busy rehearsing my lines for the next movie, and wouldn't you know it, I have been calling everyone Janet because of it." She laughed and then we all laughed with her as if we not only bought her lie but also sympathized with her ‘hard working’ life.

Mrs. Middleton was a trophy wife, or at least she was in the eighties. Her husband was a serious movie producer in his day (though his last movie predates my own birth day). He was a nice looking older man, only he couldn’t seem to talk enough about his accomplishments. His wife landed him when she was in her twenties, and he was in his forties. Plastic surgery, Botox, and hair dye have kept her looking like a movie star well past her prime.

As cars began to drop off guests, the house filled with dazzling dresses and dark suites. I greeted our other next-door neighbors, the Mannings, as they arrived. "Lily dear, you look fabulous!" Mrs. Manning squeezed my arms, "A spitting image of Rose!" I never thought of myself in the same category as Rose and my mother. It must have been the dress.

"Mrs. Manning, you look fabulous yourself!" She was a short, plump, black-haired older woman who had no clue that the tight dresses she wore showed off her luggage rather than hiding it. But she was a nice lady…annoying, but nice. I didn't know if she deserved all the nasty gossip that goes around about her, but who was I to judge, I was no more meant for this life than she was. She founded a social networking website for people with strange fetishes. Its success blew her away and made her a very rich woman. Apparently, millions of people will pay $19.99 per month to get in contact with others in their area who also have obsessions with (and get their kicks from) things like crushing bugs and dressing like stuffed animals. In typical fashion, I felt the need to make up for other people’s meanness so I asked her, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

“
I would love some wine!" her eyes glittered.

As I made my way to the open bar, I could feel a presence floating behind me. I had a feeling who it might be so I just tried to ignore him, hoping he would go away. I'm not very good at being mean.

I could feel the hot breath on the back of my neck before I heard his words. "You shouldn't taunt me like that." He gave a little laugh at the end that sent the wrong kind of chills up my spine.