'Scar-lett?'
Her eyes widened, then squinted. 'Wha-at?'
Dylan had changed his clothes. That wasn't a good sign, especially since a party was near.
'You're quite a deep sleeper,' he said. 'My friend just came upstairs to wake me, and you didn't hear a thing until I touched you.'
Her eyes widened again. 'Don't touch me ever again.'
'No, Sage. Do you forget we're in a relationship?' He smirked. 'In fact, I'll need to touch you one more time. I'll give you a few minutes to freshen up, then we'll meet outside.'
'Can I—'
'No, you won't change.'
Scowling, she stood and headed for what she supposed was the bathroom. Unfortunately, it was locked.
'Um, that's my loo,' Dylan explained. 'The common loo is the other one.'
'What're you hiding?' Sage asked.
'Mostly beer,' he replied.
She shook her head in disapproval, then went to the commoner's bathroom. It opened without a hitch.
Though sparkling clean, the commoner's bathroom looked underused, if used at all. There was a mirror just as tall as she was behind the door. It had an average sink and a medicine cabinet stacked with drugs, a complete and fairly-used make-up kit, and—unsurprisingly— contraceptive devices.
She washed her face and put on make-up. She chose a dark-green eyeshadow that nearly matched her dress and pink lipstick. When she was done, she looked alright.
This is what a girlfriend looks like, right? she thought.
Once again, she couldn't have ever imagined that a day like that would come. It terrified her. She'd never dated anyone, and the only feeling she had towards Dylan was angry indifference. What if she couldn't play her part well? Dylan would go back on his word for sure.
Then came a knock on her door.
'Babe, could you hurry up? You've impressed me enough. There's no need to do more,' Dylan said under his breath.
Someone was in the room, definitely.
'I'm coming out now, but…' She trailed off, hoping he would understand.
'I'm here for you,' he said.
And so she came out to see him. When her door closed, so did the room door. She caught a glimpse of black men's shoes.
'Your friend again?' she asked.
'My father's friend, rather. And you know how the saying goes: The friend of my politically-involved father is not to be befriended,' Dylan said. 'Anywho, what's the matter?'
'I didn't think this through. I don't feel ready,' Sage replied.
'None of us did, and of us are,' he assured, 'but—and that is if anything I'll ever say makes sense to you—if I wanted only a pretty face, I could've found someone much more beautiful than you—'
'Excuse me?'
'—but your beauty is beyond that. You're modest, disciplined, and so unlike any other woman, man, or non-binary I've ever had an interest in. They're not all loose like me, but they're just not you.'
Did someone turn up the thermostat on her face?
'Besides,' he added, 'I needed someone inexperienced so they could go with the backstory I planned: I'm your first love.'
'There it is,' she said, frowning.
'No, my darling, I'm not buffing up my ego. I want us to be on the same page.' He rolled his eyes. 'Yes, I've never actually fallen in love. The only difference between you and me is I want to find it and have tried so hard. My point is: there's no need to feel unready. We're supposed to act new to this, got it?'
'Oh joy,' she replied sarcastically.
He held out his hand. 'I'll need to walk you down the aisle—stairs, pardon me.'
Luckily, his words gave her just a little bit of his ego. She took his hand and held it tightly for some seconds, then loosened her grip at the sound of the alarms in her head. At the very least, Dylan didn't reciprocate. He'd only given his hand but didn't let his fingers touch her.
Dylan led the way out of the room and onto the right staircase. Those at a distance would've seen his steps as quick, but she had a feeling that he was making a big show out of climbing down with her.
Too late; a flash of light caught her eye. Someone had taken their picture.
'I feel naked,' Sage muttered.
'I wish you were—pardon—I wish you would stop fretting,' Dylan said. 'Look at the girls around you. Look at that one in the transparent mini. You're so much better off.'
Sage frowned. 'I'm not other girls. I'm me, the girl who walked around in sweaters and hoodies for walks down the beach. This is the single most revealing thing I've ever tried in my life in public, and I'm not comfortable with it.'
'I guess you'll hate the other dresses I picked.'
Before she could fight further, several flashes of light went off at once.
'Paparazzi time,' he warned. 'Keep moving and don't say a word.'
He led her away from the cameras and past the crowd. He took her somewhere at the edge of the living room, where a few older men sat talking argumentatively. One particular man caught her attention—a man she knew even better than her own father.
'The man in the blue polo,' she whispered. 'That's your dad, right?'
'No, he's my father. If you had a childhood like mine, you wouldn't call him Dad after primary school,' he said.
'At least you had someone to call whatever after primary school,' she muttered.
Dylan pouted at her sympathetically. 'Yiu want me to call him that now, do you?'
'Yep,' she replied.
He raised his voice and called, 'Dad?'
All four men looked at him quizzically, especially Mr. Anthony.
'My good Lord,' Mr. Anthony exclaimed. 'The Queen has fallen and we're now a total democracy.'
The other men laughed.
The older man looked her way. 'And the sun will soon rise from the west. My colleagues, I think we should get into those taxes we've been evading.'
The son rolled his eyes. 'Good evening, Father, Father, Lord Cecil, and Mr. David.'
'My son, my son,' Mr. Anything said, rising to his feet. 'Don't prove me wrong so quickly. Come here. Give me a hug if you're truthful.'
Sage didn't get what was going on, but couldn't help but laugh at how awkwardly Dylan embraced his father. His face was red afterward as if Mr. Anthony had told him the secret to a happy marriage.
'You have clearly done so, so much,' Mr. Anthony said, his eyes on Sage. 'My son bullshits daily, but it appears he'd go the extra mile in your presence.'
Sage could only blush and nod. Then, seeing nothing else to do, she curtsied
'So cultured,' Mr. Anthony praised again. 'So so unlike Dylan to find. I welcome you with my whole heart, my dear…'
'Sage,' she finished. 'Sage Scarlett.'
'You must be quite wise to get such a name. And I'm sure you are. Dylan needs the help,' said Mr. Anthony.
'Jesus, Father. I was the top-graduating medical student of 2018,' Dylan muttered.
'I never said you weren't good in school. You have my and Florence's genes, so why not? But your life choices, Dylan. This woman is the best choice you've made ever. Everybody before now was a mistake, get it?' Mr. Anthony asked.
The praise was becoming a bit much. She yanked on Dylan's hand; the Hollywood boyfriend-and-girlfriend sign for get me out of here.
'My mates are waiting,' Dylan said. 'Good night, kind sirs.'
'God bless, my son,' Mr. Anthony said. 'And Sage? You are already blessed, but may God bless you even more. Make this last, I beg you.'
Dylan held her hand for once, but just long enough for him to yank her away.
'He knows, doesn't he?' Sage asked.
'I had to swear by God that the next person I brought home would be my partner,' he replied. 'He's been expecting you. Or, no, he's been expecting me to bring a "wild animal" and call it my partner. He meant it in both ways.'
'Your dad's great at figurative speaking,' she said. 'His speeches are like poetry.'
'And I'm the flirt of the family. The hypocrite.' He looked at his phone. 'Okay. My plan is that we cause a scene. Word's going round that you're either my new date or my girlfriend, so we've achieved confusion. Now, we need action. I'll go see my friends and try not to get drunk, while you sit at the bar, look gorgeous, and wait for some bastard drunk to come along and hit on you. I'll notice, claim you as my woman, end scene.'
'Teach me your ways sometime, will you?' she teased.
'Jesus,' Dylan muttered. 'I—I need to go. Soon.'
Sage frowned. It was almost like the very first time they met. Before, she thought he was scared of her. Now, she had a feeling it had something to do with the screw-me feelings he'd spoken about.
She trod carefully as she approached the mini bar. Her every step in the ridiculous stilts called stilettos she wore was a nightmare. Besides, she felt eyes on her; bad eyes determined to make her fall. For the briefest moment, she wished Dylan were holding her again.
The moment was very brief because her longing was soon replaced with fear when she met an angel at the bar.
As blasphemous as it was for even an atheist like herself, she was certain that the man in white on the barstool was an angel. He had the features for it: a carefully-sculptured face, long ebony hair, perfect shining skin, golden Rolex, and his pure-white sneakers, khakis, and long-sleeved shirt that kind of hugged his muscular physique.
Could he be the bastard drunk Dylan was talking about? she thought. She was not ready to flirt with someone who probably had access to He Who She Didn't Believe Existed.
She sat next to him and tried her best smile. 'Hi.'
'Your tricks won't work on me, New Girl.' The man said new girl the way Henson would've said wild animal. 'Unlike some of us, I have the fear and power of God.'
'You're such an angel, aren't you,' Sage said matter-of-factly.
Angel finally turned to her, answering her question; he was no angel. Angels didn't have Hell in their eyes.
'I won't waste my words on a thick-headed prostitute,' he said. 'What are you doing here anyway? Two quid shouldn't be too hard for my Prince to cough up. Or are you cheap that you can't ask for a free drink by yourself?'
Laughter came from a guy who Sage recognized as the bartender from earlier. Angel joined in.
Angel pouted. 'Oh look, James. She's upset. Should I say sorry? Should I throw money at her and make her dance for me? I know; make her the usual.'
'I already have,' James the bartender said. He lifted a martini glass filled to the brim with blue liquid. 'Enjoy your Adios Motherfucker cocktail, bitch.'
It took her a lot not to cry or scream at them.
'What's your deal with me?'
'I don't have a deal with you. It's just how I treat uninvited guests before they leave,' Angel said. 'Plus, someone had to bring you down to earth. I'm more than sure that you've gone blind to your proper place after all those camera flashes. Do you really think that they were praising you? Not at all.'
'I know exactly what position I hold. A few cameras won't affect that,' Sage said.
'Then why are you still here? I wouldn't dream of touching you, but I've had more than enough of your flavor. Oh, I see you're not satisfied, and now you're looking for another bloke to give you more than you deserve. So typical of the few nymphomaniacs Dylan brings home.'
It became too hard to contain herself. She would've told him everything right there. She would've laughed in his face as she spun stories of good times she and Dylan spent together.
But by some miraculous text, Angel stood up. 'Well, it's been fun preaching to you, but I have better places to waste my spit. I hope your next client is richer, because no one is more perfect than my Prince.'
And so he left.
'Let me guess; another one of Prince's birds?' the new guy asked.
'And how's that your business?' Sage asked.
'It gives Angel at least twenty reasons to hate you,' New Guy said. 'Sometimes I wonder what would happen if Prince got married. Hell, they'd be dead before the wedding. Or the engagement.'
'You mean he'd actually kill them?' Sage asked
New Guy chuckled. 'He'd be too nice to do that. No. He'd send Prince after them, right after shagging him into agreeing to it.'
For the first time in about six minutes, she smiled easily. 'He said I had a strippery name. What about him? He doesn't deserve that name—Angel.'
'His name isn't exactly Angel. It's Marc, with a C. C for cruelty, I suppose,' New Guy joked. 'And what name of yours would be so beautiful that he'd call it strippery?'
Did she really want to give a random guy her name? No.
'Emerald,' she replied. Not a complete lie. Esmeralda was emerald in Spanish. 'Yours?'
'Brandon. Not nearly as good as yours, but I get by.'
Sage laughed. 'It's fine. You could've been called worse.'
'Brandon isn't a name you'd like to hear a woman screaming in bed.' Brandon sighed. 'But Emerald…'
An awkward silence passed for the death of a healthy conversation.
The music playing in the background got louder. Some people got the cue and started to dance.
'Would you like to dance?' Brandon asked.
Don't flirt back. 'I'm a terrible dancer,' she replied.
'It's not too late to learn.' He pulled her—forced, felt like a better word—by the hand and put his hands on her waist. From there, he swayed her left and right in a dizzying pattern of quick steps.
'Stop,' she pleaded, 'I beg you.'
'Baby, I haven't even started.' His hand reached into her slit. She felt his hand run up and down her thighs.
Sage couldn't run; he had an iron grip on her upper arm.
She struggled, but not with him exactly. Her childhood memories, rather. Anywhere Brandon touched burned like the fire her mother had used on her in the old times. Before long, she saw the scene as she did when she was fifteen years old. Brandon's face and body became those of her mom's, thus battled and cried the way she did with her mom
Suddenly, a slap landed on Brandon's face. Speak of the devilspawn, as they say.
Sage barely had time to move before Dylan punched Brandon in the face. He followed up with two more punches, a kick to the groin, and a double-foot kick to the stomach.
'What are you doing in my house?' Dylan asked.
'I—'
Dylan didn't quite let him finish. With a final blow, he uppercut Brandon, which might've made the latter bite his tongue.
Brandon fell flat, bleeding and bruised.
'That should teach everyone, not just you, to stay the hell away from my girlfriend,' Dylan said, his tone level and steely.
He rushed to her. Sage had never been so willing to hug a man in her life. She still restrained herself, though
'Did he hurt you?' Dylan asked.
'Almost,' she replied, choking back a sob.
'Then what's this?' Dylan wiped a tear from her face. That also burned.
The hurt became too much to hold back. She damned all consequences and hugged him.
Cameras flashed all over—paparazzi time. Applause overshadowed the sound of music. Dylan had caused just the right scene.
'Citizens of London,' Mr. Anthony boomed over a mic, 'I present to you my future daughter-in-law and the love of my prince's life; Sage Scarlett.'