The Other Woman

Threnody Aschere, having no necessity for a real career of her own, instead made a career of being ‘The Other Woman’.  With haughty, high-cheekboned features that befit her class and smoky eyes with a hunger that belied her breeding, Threnody had slept with nearly everybody over the age of fifteen in the sleepy little town of Cedar Falls.  At least once. 

Men, women, old, young, single, divorced, engaged, married, it didn’t matter; sometimes family pets, and at least once an hermaphrodite.  Threnody’s appetite was nigh insatiable.  She was not averse to threesomes, to groups, to several different rendezvous with several different partners in the same twenty-four-hour period.  She drank hard and she fucked hard.

But Threnody had the divine veneer of a polished aristocrat.  Her jet-black hair was never out of place—unless it was fashionably mussed—her wardrobe was invariably couture and immaculate, everything was waxed, polished, and manicured expertly.

She and her twin brother Zenith had been brought up by a team of accountants and various staff who had been charged with maintaining and cultivating their significant trust funds and the multi-billion dollar corporation and priceless mansion, all of which was bequeathed to the twins upon the sudden death of their parents.  There were no relatives to speak of, only an immense fortune, a tutor, a nanny, and unseen legal guardians guarding their investments and stock options somewhere in the city. 

As the stories go, Zenith had seduced the nanny before he was fourteen and Threnody had sucked the tutor’s cock at the ripe age of twelve.  Rumor has it that the twins lost their respective innocence to one another, locked up there in that spacious Aschere mansion on the top of Cedar Crest—but neither Zenith nor Threnody have ever given a direct response to this subject.  A wry smile, a lazy wink, a ghost of a laugh, but never a word to either confirm or contradict.

Yet never in all her various and sundry sexual escapades had Threnody Aschere ever been charged with the name Whore.  Nor slut, harlot, tramp, or hussy.   Because she was rich.

 In her society she was considered ‘a vixen’.  A siren.  The Other Woman.  Common women might be whores when they do the things Threnody does, poor women may be labeled sluts, but a woman of her exceptional wealth and breeding was never less than ‘an independent woman’, ‘a seductress’ or best: ‘a woman who knows what she wants’.

Her brother, who had a sexual appetite to rival her own of course, was among the most eligible bachelors in the region, in fact in the country—despite the fact that he made no secret of his rapacious, insatiable, and often taboo sexual appetite.  Women didn’t seem to mind the reputation that came attached to his millions.

They both had narrow, chiseled features that tread the line between fashionably gaunt and what might turn the stomach.  Hollow cheeks, deep-set eyes, and boney jaws were runway chic but also uncomfortably reminiscent of the photos of death-camp survivors; the only thing that distinguished them from those unfortunate souls were their designer clothes and flawless teeth.

It was part of public lore in Cedar County how the Aschere’s parents had died, leaving the twins an empire and a life of parentless excess and indulgence at the age of five.  Around campfires boy scouts swear the mansion to be haunted, and the handsome couple to have been victims to vampires living in the cavernous secret tunnels beneath the estate.  Teenagers at slumber parties tell of a suicide pact wherein the couple took their own life by driving one of their many Mercedes’ off cedar crest and into the falls.  In college the tale gets kinkier, with Mr. & Mrs. Aschere dying accidentally in some freak erotic asphyxiation mishap, and housewives are sure they met their end while skiing in Aspen.  Only the town elders really remember for sure…

To See and Be Seen

There were so many people, so many attendees; Jonah wondered why they hadn’t held the reception at the pavilion instead of at the house.  Looking around he guessed the legendary Vaughan Grey had wanted to showcase his designer home, wanted his guests to see the many awards and magazine covers and trophies and framed photographs, wanted them to marvel at his expensive furnishings and rare collectibles and exotic memorabilia.  Jonah decided the man who lived here must be one arrogant, conceited, egotistical, ass.

With a shrug he accepted a glass of wine from a pretty young cater-waitress carrying a tray of sparkling wines.  He recognized the logo on her shirt.  “Hey, Hi, Nolan working?”  He asked her with a warm smile.  She returned the smile in a way that told Jonah this girl had a crush on his brother. 

“Yeah, he’s here…”  She glanced around hopelessly.  She was too short to see much in the crush of guests.  “Somewhere!”  She said with a laugh.

He laughed with her.  He was much taller than she was so he scanned the crowd, able to see above most people’s heads.  “Thanks—I’m sure I’ll find him sooner or later.”  He said.

“Yeah, He’s got Reds I think.”  She said helpfully.  “If you find him, tell him I said ‘Hi’!” and then with a sweet smile moved away, offering her drinks to other guests.

Jonah chuckled.  He’d be sure and do that.  She seemed sweet.  Scanning the crowd his eyes fell upon a familiar pair of faces at the far end of the room, just by the open French doors that led to the back patio.  Her face looked pleasant, if a bit strained, and his?  His face was a glowering, irritable grimace.  Jonah laughed to himself and tossed back some of his wine before navigating his way politely through the throng toward his parents.

He saw several co-workers and nodded warmly, sometimes stopped to exchange a few words, he saw the superintendant but couldn’t get close enough to do more than smile and wave, and finally he made his way to his mother’s side.  She was in the middle of a conversation about a charity auction that was being planned for the fall at the historic society.  When she saw him her eyes crinkled at the corners in acknowledgement, but she didn’t interrupt her dialogue with Mrs. Eisen.

He would wait.  Instead he turned to his father and smiled winningly at the man’s obvious discomfort.  “Hi Pops.”  He said, patting his father soundly on the back.

“Jonah.”  Nodded his father in a grim greeting.

“You look like you’re having a blast.”  Jonah tried not to smile quite so largely but he wasn’t managing too well.  It was always thoroughly entertaining to see his normally mild-mannered father so uptight and surly.  The man hated crowds and social events, but his wife, well, his wife was a social creature by nature and he endured these events to please her. 

“I met the groom.”  He said, looking for all the world as though it caused a sour taste in his mouth.

Jonah glanced around.  He’d not had the pleasure of meeting his host or the young Calder bride yet.  He’d seen them both around town, knew who they were, but hadn’t met them today.  “Nice fellow?”  Jonah asked wryly, catching sight of a life-sized framed poster of the man in full swing on the green.  He rolled his eyes.  He didn’t need to meet the man to know he wouldn’t care for him.

“A prince.”  Said his father dourly.  “More bourbon in his veins than blood I think.”  He confided in a low voice.

Jonah chuckled.  His mother was kissing Mrs. Eisen on the cheek and promising to call with ‘that information’ sometime tomorrow.  Jonah nodded politely to Mrs. Eisen as she departed and then turned to his mother.  She cocked her head and smiled at him.  “What in hell are you doing at a thing like this?”  she asked with a laugh. 

He grinned and placed a kiss on her cheek.  “You look lovely Ma.”  He said affectionately.

She shook her head.  “No, no, no, flattery will get you nowhere.”  She placed one hand gracefully on her hip and with the other she took a sip of dark wine.  “What made you decide to come?”

He looked around at the crowd.  He didn’t want to tell her the real reason.  “Nolan’s here.”  He offered.

She raised a skeptical brow and opened her mouth to retort but her husband cut her off “Oh leave the boy alone Evelyn, he’s here for the same reason all the rest of these fools are here.”  He lifted a highball glass to his lips and took a mouthful of whatever mixed drink he’d procured.

She sent her husband a rather chilly look before fixing her gaze back on her son.  “Is that why you’re here?”  She asked archly, “To see and be seen?”

He chuckled.  “Maybe.”  He said evasively.  Really he was in attendance in the hopes of meeting someone.  He hadn’t been on a date in months and Nolan had been urging him to get back in the saddle, to play the field again.

“Nobody can see anybody in this crush.”  Said his father grumpily.

“We’re not staying too much longer.”  His mother sighed.  “I just want to see Mrs. Calder before we go, thank her for the invite.”

“Sebastian Calder must be spinning in his grave.”  Jonah’s father commented dourly.

Jonah laughed, but his mother looked stern.  “Ethan Delaney, don’t pretend for a second that Sebastian Calder was some kind of upright saint.”  She hissed.  “He gave that woman years of nothing but infidelity and in the end he died in the arms of a whore, so I don’t think he’d have a leg to stand on here.”

Jonah was surprised by his mother’s sudden vehemence.  Outwardly she remained composed and graceful but the heat that sizzled under her fierce whisper took him aback.

“The man’s sins aside, Evelyn, no father wants to see his teenage daughter married off to some middle-aged lothario.”

She tisked.  “I think he’d rather see her married than become an unwed teen mother, don’t you?”

Jonah groaned.  “Mr. and Mrs. Delaney, please!”  He smiled at them.  They bickered; it’s what they did.  Jonah knew they loved eachother very much but knew they weren’t happy unless they were arguing about something or other.  Usually one of them would play the devil’s advocate on some issue just to drum up conflict.  It was their peculiar little hobby and it was mostly harmless, but with so many ears around…

“I’m just glad I don’t have daughters, with that jackal prowling around town.” Groused his father.

“Ethan!  Don’t stand there drinking the man’s liquor and backbiting, for God’s sake, he’s our host!”

Jonah smiled an over-large smile.  “Have a good time you two.”  He enthused.  “If I don’t see you before I leave, I’ll be over for Sunday dinner as usual.”  He delivered another peck to his mother’s cheek, clasped his father’s hand in a brief shake and set off toward the less-cramped but very hot and sunny back yard.

He didn’t see Nolan anywhere.  He met up with the Bennett brothers for a short time, Sam had his eye on some pretty young thing and Marty was enjoying the mingling.  Then he chatted with their sister Grace for a while—they’d dated in high school and were still able to chat like old friends.  She was married to Holden Sinclair now, who she said was in attendance but who the hell knew where?  She looked contented and radiant; and almost ready to pop—her due date was less than a month away. 

He was a little in awe of how many important Cedar Falls families and politicians and business people were in attendance.  But, he supposed the sole heiress to the Calder fortune was a bit of a celebrity around these parts, and so, he supposed, was the play-boy golf pro she had married.

After a while he decided he’d probably burn terribly if he stayed out in the sun too long and with some reservations he headed back toward the cool of the house.  He mingled with old friends from school, chatted with bigwigs from the central schools office, and flirted with one or two nice-looking girls, but he wasn’t having a terribly great time.  And he still hadn’t found Nolan.  Where the hell was his brother?  He’d seen about a dozen other cater-waiters, from various vendors, even a few from the winery, but he’d yet to spot Nolan among the crowd.

He decided to make one complete sweep of the house before giving up and getting the hell out of there.  He hadn’t met anyone that he’d been overly attracted to, and while he realized he might have a shot with one or two ladies here, he didn’t feel all that inclined to put out the effort.  He was trying, but he didn’t think he was all that ready to be playing the field again.

He settled on a trickle-down plan of attack.  He’d start on the top floor, where he’d heard there was a sundeck, and work his way back down.

Jonah kept his eyes peeled on his way up, but by the time he was mounting the stairs to the third floor he still hadn’t seen any sign of his brother.  He’d seen Nolan’s good friend Len across a large, crowded room and waved enthusiastically, but he didn’t bother trying to cross the sea of mingling guests to get to him.  Maybe he’d catch him on the way down.

The minute he stepped onto the third floor landing Jonah got an uneasy feeling across the back of his neck.  The atmosphere up here was different, somehow, and his gut reacted to it instinctively.  The tone in people’s voices was different.  There seemed to be more couples kissing and groping and fondling up here.  He felt forcibly reminded of a college frat house party, but something felt more slick, even, more deliberate and sinister about the air up here.

This was supposed to be a wedding reception—what the hell was going on up here?  It was the middle of the day, for God's sake. 

He almost turned around.  He hoped he wouldn’t find Nolan up here, hoped he didn’t stumble upon his brother embroiled in some steamy orgy.  Not that he’d begrudge his brother the action, he just didn’t need to see it. 

He moved quietly, almost crept, through a very large and impressive master bedroom suite, toward the sound of voices and laughter and the light of the sundeck.  He wouldn’t stay long, he didn’t feel comfortable up here, he’d just take a look and see if Nolan had been stationed up here.  He felt as if he were trespassing in the penthouse or something, like he’d sneaked onto the bunny ranch without credentials.

There was low murmuring and deep, provocative laughter.  If Jonah were an animal he believed his hackles might be up.  He stalked carefully over to the wide open French doors and observed the salacious glances some folks were casting to their left, watched the avid interest of others who didn’t bother concealing their open fascination.  The men and women up here wore the same expressions he’d seen on men in a strip club—appraising, slightly aroused, captivated, hungry—all under the guise of being perfectly neutral and blasé about it. 

He inched out onto the sundeck, slowly scanning the dozen or more faces and feeling very relieved that his brother was not among them.  And, taking a breath, he made the decision to see whatever it was that was so captivating to these people.  He noted the Deputy Superintendant of Schools among the crowd and frowned.  He saw a few other familiar faces and felt even more uncomfortable.

And finally he turned his head in the direction of the hot-tub.  Jonah felt an outbreak of tiny hot and cold pinpricks from head to toe.  He felt embarrassed, ashamed, and had trouble looking at the spectacle.  There were two people performing very graphic carnal acts in the swirling water, completely nude and unconcerned with the lookers on; no, Jonah thought, not unconcerned; they were enjoying the audience.

After blinking and staring at the deck floor for a few moments he made himself look again, see who they were.  He knew he’d be asked later and knew he’d have to give details to his friends when they heard about this insanity.  This wouldn’t have happened at the pavilion, Jonah thought wryly.

He was looking at the man’s nondescript back and bare ass but when he moved his head down to capture the woman’s nipple in his mouth Jonah’s jaw fell open.  He recognized the son of a bitch from all the framed photographs and magazine covers below.  This was their host, this was the man of the hour, this was Vaughan Grey, husband, and father-to-be.

Jonah snorted in disbelief.  Then he craned his neck to have a better look at the female;  maybe his gut instinct was wrong, maybe Vaughan Grey was up here fucking his new bride for all to see, maybe the young heiress was an exhibitionist and got-off on fucking her much-older husband in broad daylight before an audience of Cedar Falls socialites.

He felt like a pervert, straining for a better view and he knew he was flushing from his scalp to his toes, but he just had to know.  He saw dark hair and knew the heiress to have dark hair, he saw a lot of flesh and heard a great deal of throaty moaning and whimpering and he was distinctly disturbed to notice a man beside him begin to rub himself through his dress pants.  Holy God, Jonah just wanted to answer the question of who that woman was in the hottub and get the hell out of there.

He moved further onto the deck and caught sight of Holden Sinclair nuzzling a young woman who was not Grace and looked away sharply.  He didn’t want to see this side of Cedar Falls, didn’t want to know it.  He was damn glad Nolan wasn’t up here.  And he hoped his parents had left long ago.

Suddenly the woman lifted her head and seemed to look right at Jonah.  Her silver-gray eyes seemed to cut right into him and he was breathless for a moment.  Sopping wet and getting vigorously fucked she still seemed perfectly stunning and not the least bit ruffled.  She was amazing and he felt a heat slide down his front as she looked at him.  She dragged her tongue over her top lip and he shuddered.  She laughed throatily and threw her head back once more, enjoying the rhythm with which her partner was moving into her, and Jonah felt cold all over.

This was an heiress alright, but not the right heiress.  That bastard was fucking another woman at his goddamned wedding celebration, and not even bothering with the slightest discretion.  Feeling almost nauseated Jonah moved quickly and determinedly for the exit.  Fuck finding Nolan, he was leaving and he’d catch up with his brother later.  He didn’t want to be at that residence a minute longer than he had to be.

He pushed past a man he knew from the gym and squeezed past two wealthy cougars who boldly pawed and pulled at him.  He was shivering despite the heat of the summer sun and making all haste to get to the landing when he nearly bowled over a petite little thing on her way toward the sundeck.

They had a moment of trying to step around one another where he’d move to his left but she’d move the same way, and then they’d both move to the other side.  After several attempts the young woman giggled lightly and the sound helped to dispel Jonah’s chill.  He finally stopped his politely awkward missteps and looked at her fully.  She was beautiful.  She was smiling up at him, impossibly large pale green eyes framed by long dark lashes above high pink cheeks and the sweetest cupid’s bow mouth he’d ever seen.  She had dark hair swept over her flawless alabaster forehead and behind her slight shoulders. 

She was perfect.  And she was heavily pregnant.  And his mouth fell open with the realization of who she must be.

“Excuse me!”  The young woman said, laughing a little. 

“Mrs. Grey—“  Jonah began, his heart thudding in his ears.

She smiled and looked ready to make an introduction but then a sound caught her ears and the smile faded.  It was an intimate, erotic sound and there was no mistaking it really.  The woman on the sundeck was beginning the slow wind-up toward orgasm and she wasn’t shy about letting everyone know it.  Jonah’s ears burned and the back of his neck was tingling discomfitingly. 

“Will you excuse me?”  She said softly, her face transforming from carefree and joyful to one of concern and a sort of disbelieving dread. 

He stepped in front of her again and she looked startled and a shade irritated.  “Mrs. Grey, won’t you come with me downstairs?”

She spared him half a glance and moved to get around him in the other direction.  “Excuse me.”  She said again, her voice vague and thin.

Jonah didn’t know where the impulse came from but he knew he needed to stop her, prevent her from seeing what her husband was doing to her.  He took a few steps backward and moved into her path again.  She pulled up short and wore an expression of dismay.  With one small hand she held her very round belly and with the other she fingered an attractive diamond necklace at her throat.  “What’s going on out there?”  She asked him, a nervous whine entering her tone.

Jonah looked at her.  She was still so young.  So innocent.  He wanted to whisk her away from the seedy scene behind him on the sundeck, felt the strongest urge to save her from the awful, sordid truth out there.  But before he could speak they both heard her husband’s voice urging his lover toward climax and grunting.  The murmuring of the small, watching crowd became more fevered, and the young heiress’ face pulled into one of near-terror and she shook her head but moved around Jonah, as if compelled by some divine force, and onto the sundeck. 

He hadn’t the power to stop her, he’d tried but she was determined to see for herself, to witness the act of betrayal she’d already guessed at.  The crowd parted for her soundlessly, not a word of warning to her or to the pair in the hot tub.  Jonah hesitated a moment on the threshold of those double doors, debated with himself as to whether or not he should get mixed up in what was about to go down, but then the girl screamed, and the sound clenched around his heart like a fist, and the decision was no longer his to make.

He flew to her side as she raged at her husband.  He wanted to be there, beside her, though he knew it wasn’t really his place.  He glanced around at their audience and recognized that this girl didn’t have a single friend up there.  Except for him.  He would be in her corner.

The bastard in the hot tub didn’t have the decency to look embarrassed, or even apologetic.  On the contrary, he looked put-out that he’d been interrupted.  Jonah wanted to punch the filthy son of a bitch. 

The man exchanged some words with his young wife and seemed entirely unconcerned with her fury and humiliation as he stepped, completely nude, from the hottub.  The man was vile.  Jonah watched with disgust as he reached to help the silver eyed seductress out of the hot-tub, apologizing to her, but not his wife.  And then suddenly the petite little thing was lunging for the Golf-pro. 

Jonah was momentarily stunned.  She threw herself on him with everything she had, she bit, she clawed, she kicked and slapped and Jonah had to force himself to move through his stunned immobility.  He was sure he pulled her off the man not a second too soon.  Vaughan Grey looked like a man who might not hesitate to throw a pregnant woman to the ground.

Jonah held her, supported her weight as she sank to her knees before the hot tub.  She screamed and swore and made dire threats and she was sobbing and gasping for air and she was in such misery, such torment.  Jonah wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and make it all go away.  He had a powerful urge to defend the young woman’s honor by attacking the man himself, but she was so hysterical he feared she might do harm to herself or the baby should he let her go.

So he held her. 

He held her when her husband leaned down and spoke cruelly to her, held her when all the sycophants vacated the sundeck, following their perverse piper.  He held her and soothed her and rubbed her back and let her weep into his chest. 

He was already in love with her.

The Silver heiress had said something, before she’d sauntered off the deck, something that made Jonah very worried.  He stroked the young Mrs. Grey’s hair, and her back, and looked with some concern at the very large stomach between them.  She might miscarry, or she might go into premature labor.  She was practically choking on her sobs now, her body wracked with grief and anguish.  He needed her to calm down as soon as humanly possible.

He murmured all kinds of sweet things to her.  Told her how beautiful she was, how she deserved better.  He told her that her husband was the world’s biggest fool to look at any other creature.  He told her she would be alright.  That she was perfect.  An angel.  He had the feeling that she wasn’t hearing any of it, not really, but he hoped the sentiment was helping to pacify and calm her.  He promised he would help her and protect her and make sure that bastard never hurt her again.

When her sobs subsided to a weak blubbering he made his voice a little more firm:

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here.”  He told her.

She finally looked at him then, lifted her enormous green eyes to his and really saw him for the first time.  She appeared fascinated and he smiled warmly, assuring her with his eyes that she was in safe hands, that she could trust him.

She smiled back for a beat before a wave of panic washed over her features and her body convulsed forcefully and she vomited all over him.  There was a moment, a split second where he understood what was about to happen, but, not wanting to break his contact with her he had no choice but to brace for impact and allow her to be sick all down his front.  He made himself breathe through his mouth and endure wave after wave of retching.  He held her long, silky chestnut tresses away from the mess and tried to pat her back reassuringly.

When she had finished, her body weak and shaking, her face streaked with tears and twisted in mortification, she parted her lips and tried to speak but had only a raspy whisper left.

He smiled at her.  “Hello.  I’m Jonah—“ he told her, trying to make her smile.  “I’m not sure we’ve met.”

It worked.  She smiled.  The sight of her smile, the way she met his eyes and gazed so deeply into him, he knew he’d be hers as long as she wanted him.  He was in love.

Cater-Waiter

Nolan Delaney was working as a cater-waiter for the Calder-Grey event.  The winery had been asked to feature some of their top rated bottles and Nolan never missed an event if he could help it.  He’d probably have been invited through his parents anyway—Ethan and Evelyn Delaney had been clients of the late Sebastian Calder Esq.  And the Delaneys were members of the horticultural society with Mrs. Calder as well as members of the boards of several common charitable organizations together. 

So he was and wasn’t surprised that his older brother was in attendance.  On the one hand it made sense: half the town was there and with their parents’ connections it wasn’t exactly a stretch that Jonah could wrangle an invite.  However this sort of event was decidedly not Jonah Delaney’s scene.  He was an elementary school teacher for Chrissake.  He was a bit of a nerd.  A bookworm.

But, Nolan reasoned, Jonah had always been a fairly popular fellow, despite his bookishness.  He wasn’t precisely an introvert; he was a great conversationalist and an easy persona at get-togethers.  And maybe, like the rest of Cedar Falls, he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get a closer look at the stunning and slightly scandalous new ‘it’ couple.

And maybe, at the end of the day, he was a young bachelor who was looking to get laid.  Nolan grinned at the thought.  His brother’s last relationship had ended months and months ago and the poor sap had been pretty broken up about it.  The girl had been sleeping around behind his back and it really knocked his confidence (and his faith in love) for a loop.  Nolan could have saved his brother a lot of time and heartache if only Jonah had been in the mood to listen to him.  He could have told him, and tried on several occasions to tell him, that the girl was bad news.  They shared no common interests, the relationship was based purely on his infatuation with her, and besides: Nolan knew more than a few guys from his college that had already slept with her.

Not that a woman had to be a virgin or anything to be worthy, not at all, it was just, well, apparent to Nolan that the girl was no good for Jonah.  Jonah was a romantic.  He was a family man just waiting to find a family.  That girl had been shallow and self-centered and selfish. 

Nolan loaded up his wide round tray with glasses of the Winery’s choicest Pinot Noir and chuckled to himself.  He hoped Jonah would find someone to catch his eye today.  Nolan was a little sick of living with the mopey S.O.B.

He sailed confidently out of the kitchen and smiled his best smile.  He offered the Pinot to several handsome cougars and they practically licked their lips and purred at him.  He’d just moved off to press some of the wine on Mayor Ward, a known oenophile, when he heard a commotion on one of the floors above.  He sighed.  That’s precisely why ‘open bar’ is a bad idea.  The free wine would have been more than enough and suitably impressive and very elegant.  But from what he understood, Vaughan Grey was a hard drinking man and had insisted on a full bar.  Hell, the man owned and kept well-stocked a full private bar of his own in the den.

Conversations around him dropped suddenly as everyone stood still, holding their breath, desperate to hear more.  Across the room he connected eyes with his friend Lennox.  Lennox was carrying the tray meant to clear emptied glasses.  Lennox raised his eyebrow in such a way that made Nolan grin.  What had his friend said about crazy uptight too-rich-for-their-own-good WASPs and their posh parties?

Nolan gave a little nod, conceding the point and then carefully, smoothly, made his way toward the stairs.  It wasn’t easy to sneak past the clusters of eager eavesdroppers but Nolan was fairly lithe and oozed enough charm to allow him to bleed through in an unobtrusive way.

A woman was shrieking.  Screaming some primeval, epic scream.  Jesus Christ, had someone drowned her baby or something?

Whispers crackled all around him as he reached the second floor landing.  City councilor Morrison was peeking out of a spare bedroom, his tie undone and his hair mussed.  A very young man Nolan recognized as one of the bakery cater-waiters peeped out from behind him.  Nolan averted his eyes and smiled.  He’d just passed the councilor’s stout battle-axe of a wife on the stairs.  He wondered if the councilor knew how close he’d come to discovery.

As Nolan approached the next flight of stairs he heard voices, and sobbing, and then stepped aside just in time to avoid being bowled-over by a strutting, nude, wet, breathtaking, raven-haired beauty.  She paused just after she passed him, a step or two below where he stood, and turned.

“Is that a Cab?”  She was entirely unconcerned with her nakedness. 

“Pinot.” Nolan answered evenly, a pleasant smile on his lips and his eyes fixed firmly on her face.

“The Cab is better.” She sighed but lifted a glass from his tray anyway.  He disagreed but nodded.  From what he knew of  the heiress, Ms. Threnody Aschere had been nursed on fine wine and had long since been weaned onto hard liquor.

She gave him a once over with her silver-gray eyes and allowed herself a small smile.

“You better get up there, handsome, if you don’t want to miss all the fun.”  She took a sip as she languidly descended the stairs.  All the heads she passed tuned to watch her Lady Godiva act and he grinned.  What a sweet fucking ass she had.  A bit skinny for his taste, but flawless.

When she was out of sight and headed toward the ground floor Nolan quickly turned and hustled the rest of the way up the stairs.  He arrived at the top to come face-to-face with his host, who was garbed only in a clinging silk robe that left little to the imagination. 

Nolan understood then, as he put the pieces together in his brain, that this event would be one of legend.  The naked heiress, the sleaze-bag golf-pro, and the wailing princess on the sundeck.

Vaughan Grey looked unruffled and dripped with machismo.  Nolan stepped aside gracefully as the man and about a dozen hangers-on moved down the stairs to resume the party.  One or two grabbed glasses from his tray absently.

He thanked the fates that his parents had left more than an hour ago.  They wouldn’t have liked to be present for the scandal.

Silently Nolan moved through the enormous, masculine master bedroom and arrived at the open bi-fold French doors to the sundeck just in time to witness Velvet Calder Grey vomit exquisitely down the front of some poor bastard’s shirt.

He did a double take.  That poor bastard was his brother.  Nolan gaped.  Holy Shit.  The August sun was white hot and his brother was in a crouched heap with a sobbing newlywed heiress.  And there was vomit everywhere.

Without further hesitation Nolan deposited the wide tray on a heavy glass-top patio table and moved back into the bedroom.  His eyes took a moment to adjust to the relative darkness but then he had no trouble locating the master bathroom. 

Shit.  This bathroom was huge.  It had a whirlpool tub and a separate shower, the kind with multiple heads.  There was some kind of settee right in the middle of the room (there was enough open space for furniture!) and a vanity, and—he just needed towels.  He scrambled over to an enormous wall of built-in shelves and drawers, and rifled through a few before finding a large stash of towels. 

Gripping the extra soft and fluffy towels in his hands as he strode purposefully back toward the sundeck he almost regretted having to ruin such fine linens.  He shrugged.  He hadn’t paid for them.

Jonah was gently patting the woman on the back and murmuring low, and she was babbling apologies through sporadic sobs.  Nolan glanced around.  Everyone else had departed.  What shallow fuckers.  He looked down at the dark haired, pale skinned young bride and his gut twisted in pity.

He knelt down gingerly, carefully avoiding anything that looked wet, unable to tell what was water from the hot tub and what might be partly vomit.

“Here” he said quietly extending one towel toward his brother.

Jonah turned his head, his glasses flashing in the sunlight.  A look of surprise quickly melted into one of gratitude.  “Thank you.”  He took the towel and began to carefully wipe the girl’s face.  The man was drenched in vomit and he focused first on dabbing her sad, tear-streaked face. 

Velvet Grey glanced weakly over at the newcomer and her lower lip quivered, a warning sign of more tears.  Nolan was quick to smile comfortingly and say: “It’s ok.”

But she turned her head away and sobbed.  He supposed she would be feeling pretty mortified.  She was clinging to his brother tightly.

“What happened?” Nolan whispered.  How the fuck had his mundane, average-guy of a brother gotten mixed up in this crazy soap opera?  Probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Whatever the reason, however it had happened, Jonah Delaney was cradling Vaughan Grey’s seventeen-year-old multi-million-dollar-heiress-bride\meal ticket.

Jonah just shook his head.  He would tell Nolan some other time. “We need to get her inside.”  He said, his voice low and gentle. 

Nolan glanced down at her very round stomach and felt his mouth fill with bitter saliva.  What a fucking bastard her husband was.

Nolan reached between the two and tried to sop up as much of the mess on Jonah’s shirt as he could.  He’d been a bartender at a college bar for a couple of years now and didn’t have much trouble controlling his gag reflex around puke.  Jonah took the towel from him.  “Thanks.”  He sopped up some more, enough to allow him to stand without too much incident.  “Help me?”  He asked and began to shift her in his arms.

Nolan moved to help hoist her to her feet and give Jonah leverage to pull himself to standing.  His brother was careful not to break contact with the girl. 

“Oh Velvet!”

 Nolan and Jonah spun as one toward the French doors.  Mrs. Calder was standing there, one hand clutched to her chest the other gripping the door frame.  She looked more disgusted than sympathetic.

Velvet only buried her face into Jonah’s clean sleeve, just about the only part of his front that wasn’t drenched in sick, and sobbed harder.  The brothers exchanged a glance.

“I think she’ll be alright, Mrs. Calder.” Nolan covered smoothly.  “We’re just going to get her in out of the heat.”

Jonah was already moving toward the door, gently pulling his broken princess along with him.

“Velvet.”  Her mother shook her head, a cold steely look in her small-ish eyes.  Nolan knew that tone.  He had a mother of his own, after all, and knew there would be some form of an ‘I told you so’ coming.  Like the girl needed to hear that from her only blood relative at that moment.  Christ.

“We’ll help her, Mrs. Calder.”  Nolan assured the woman, boldly taking the woman by her arm and steering her toward the door from the master bedroom. “She’ll be alright now.  Maybe you’ll want to go down and smooth things over with the guests?” So stunned and aghast and distracted was she that she actually allowed the young man to bring her quite close to the exit.  Then, abruptly, she stopped, ripped her arm from his grasp, and spun to face Velvet where she stood clinging to Jonah.

“This is what comes of behaving like a perfect whore Velvet Calder!”  Nolan sucked on his teeth.  Great.

“Mamma!” wailed the girl pitifully, her knees buckling and sinking toward the floor.  Jonah rushed to support her off-balance weight, to keep her from collapsing entirely. 

“You played the pretty little prostitute, and it was only a matter of time before he discarded you.”  Nolan took the woman firmly by the upper arm and forced a tight-lipped smile. 

“I really must insist you go downstairs now Ma’am.”  He said, struggling to master his urge to give the frigid old crone a piece of his mind.  Was she insane?  He didn’t know too much about it but he was fairly certain that a lady in Velvet’s condition, under severe emotional stress, could risk going into early labor or miscarrying.  Vomit he could deal with, but if that young woman started having contractions he knew he’d lose it.

Nolan marched Mrs. Calder through the bedroom door and closed it firmly behind him.  He didn’t dare let go of her until they’d reached the second floor landing. 

“Impertinent!”  She hissed.  He was fairly sure she hadn’t recognized him as one of her old friend’s sons.  Privileged people often had trouble seeing past uniforms.

“I apologize Ma’am.” He said without much conviction and released her pale, bony arm. 

“I’ll have your job for this.”  She was indignant. 

He nodded grimly.  He supposed she would.  She strode away haughtily and he knew she was going to go give his description to the Winery Owner who was also in attendance today.  God Dammit.  He lived for his job at the winery.

He caught a glimpse of his pal Lennox skulking nearby.  The man was trying to pretend like he was minding his own business, cleaning up after the rich assholes, but Nolan knew he was eavesdropping. 

“Lenny-“  Lennox straightened his spine and clucked his tongue.  Nolan outranked him, was the manager of the winery waitstaff, and the guy figured he was in trouble.  Nolan smiled to let him know he wasn’t going to be reprimanded.

“Len, I need you to help me out.”

“What the hell’s happening up there?” He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was too close.  “You should hear the shit people’re whispering downstairs.”  His eyes were wide.  Nolan wished he were firmly on the other side of the scandal and could enjoy the juicy gossip along with everyone else.  “This woman came down completely fucking bare-ass—“

Nolan sighed.  “I’ll give you the whole story tonight, but right now I’m going to need you to get me a few things—think you can slip away?  I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Shit.” Lennox said waving a hand dismissively.  “Nobody notices a cater waiter—especially one who’s just picking up the empties.”

Nolan grinned.  He gave his friend some quick instructions and bounded back upstairs. 

He knocked softly and waited but no reply was forthcoming.  He took a bracing breath and turned the handle, opening the door very slowly.  “It’s just me.”  He said, instinct dictating that he announce his arrival. 

“We’re in here.”  Came his brother’s voice from somewhere deep inside the master bedroom suite.  Nolan slinked in and clicked the door closed behind him.  The door to that monster bathroom was open and he could see the young Mrs. Grey sitting slump-shouldered on the settee.  His brother stepped into view, wiping his hands on yet another towel, his button-down shirt wetter than before but cleaner.

“Do you think you can get me a shirt?”  Jonah asked, keeping his voice low and smooth.

“Already on it.”  Nolan answered, moving cautiously toward the bathroom. The girl wasn’t crying anymore, thank Christ, but now she looked to be in some kind of trance.  Her arms were wrapped protectively around her large round belly.  “She--?”  Nolan nodded his head toward her, unable to voice his fears about the baby.

Jonah looked back at where she sat, mute and limp on the settee.  He turned back to face his brother.

“She’s not in pain so far, but I’d like to get her to the hospital—just in case.”  It was a low and somber whisper.

Nolan sucked in a breath.  He’d figured as much, but he needed to say what needed to be said anyway.  Even if he knew his brother would disregard it.  Even if he, himself, might have disregarded it.

“Look Jones, this girl—she’s someone’s wife.”

Jonah’s big purple eyes stared at Nolan’s blue-gray ones from behind his glasses.  “I know that.”  He responded flatly.

“Ok, well.”  Nolan expelled a little air.  How the fuck did one say this?  “Well maybe it ought to be her husband that takes her to the doctor.”  Even as he said it he knew it to be absurd.  But it had needed to be said.  The notion needed to be spoken aloud.

“Oh, I see.”  Said Jonah a little coldly. “Right.”  He swallowed and Nolan knew his brother was angry.  “That’s a good idea.”  Nolan began to wish he hadn’t said anything.  “In fact, why don’t you go downstairs and ask the man if he’s ready to bring his wife to the hospital?”  He leaned in close to Nolan and hissed “That is, if the prick can be bothered to take his cock out of whatever slut he’s pounding long enough to give a shit about his wife and unborn child.”

Whoa.  Nolan sighed.  He looked his brother full in the face and knew, with a sinking weight in his gut, that it was too late.  In the space of an hour Jonah Delaney had fallen in love with the wrong woman.  Again.

“I’ll go get you that shirt.”  Nolan said, resigned.  Not only was this fragile mess the wrong kind of woman for his brother, she was the wrong kind of woman who had a very possessive and violent husband.  Great.  He backed away from that fiery violet stare very slowly.  He didn’t want to get punched because some girl’s husband was a douche bag.

Jonah’s face softened a bit.  “Sorry.”

“Yeah.  I know.”  Nolan turned for the door, hoping Lennox would be just about done with all the tasks he’d given him.

“Nolan?”

Nolan turned.  “Yeah, Jonesy?”

“Not one of his shirts, ok?”  His brother looked pale but stoic.

“No problem.”

Jonah smiled marginally, and nodded his thanks, and slowly closed the bathroom door.  Nolan stared at the closed door for a long moment, listening to the sounds of a party floors below, listening to the hum and bubble of the electric hot tub on the deck, catching the faint whiff of residual vomit baking in the sun and feeling his pulse tick in his temples.

He walked toward the deck and saw his tray of Pinot Noir languishing in the bright heat, a fat yellow bee hanging about hopefully.  He bent, slipped a smooth stem between his fingers and stood, lifting the glass to his nose.  It was a younger Pinot.  There was only a hint of smokiness, a little fig, but mostly it had a buoyant bouquet of tart fruitiness—plums and cherries.

Fuck, but he was going to miss the winery.

He lowered the glass to his lips and took a healthy sip.  He’d pushed the boss to include this variety today.  Mack hadn’t been sure about it, wasn’t fully behind the vintage, but Nolan talked him into it.  It had been going over well too, better than even he had anticipated, especially given the competition the wines were getting from the open bar.

Mack was going to be pissed when he heard from Mrs. Calder.  He’d been grooming Nolan to take over in the next half-decade or so.  All the old man wanted was to find someone he could trust, someone he respected, hand the reigns of the Cedar Valley’s best vineyard over and go retire to a little place in Naples with his wife and three yippy dogs.

Nolan drained the contents and set the glass back on the tray.

He’d do his best to explain what had happened to Mr. Franchesci, but he knew it wouldn’t do much good.  Mrs. Calder was a substantial woman and a huge patron of the winery. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets and moved back into the cool dark of the bedroom.  He could hear the low timbre of his brother’s voice in the bathroom but couldn’t make out what was being said.

A quick, light, three rap sequence on the door told him Lennox had succeeded.  He wanted to kiss the beautiful mother fucker. 

“Mr. Franchesci’s looking for you.”  Lennox warned as Nolan pulled the door open and hurried his friend inside.  “Holy fuck.”  He gaped.  “This shit is bigger than my whole goddamn apartment.” 

“Yeah, you should see the toilet.”  Nolan smiled. 

Lennox held out the spare cater-waiter uniform wordlessly, ogling the fine décor.

“Thanks—d’j’you get the keys?”

“I think so.”  Answered Lennox.  Nolan’s brows came together.

“What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

“I mean there’s a shit load of keys for pretty little porches and how am I supposed to know which one is hers?”

Nolan tilted his head to the side.  “Why didn’t you ask the valet?”

Lennox rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, right, some black servant comes looking for little Mrs. Grey’s keys?  That’d go over real nice.”

Nolan sighed but he smiled.  “Think it’ll look better for some black cater-waiter to be sneaking off with the keys, you asshole?”

Lennox tisked impatiently.  “Nobody saw me, you smug mother-fucker.  I’m not stupid.”

It felt good to laugh.  Well, they’d be borrowing somebody’s car for a little while.

“Alright, alright, thanks.  Go grab my tray and get outta here before you get in trouble with Mack.”

Nolan moved to the bathroom door and spoke quietly. “Jonah?  I have some clothes.”

From the sundeck Nolan heard Lennox curse creatively.  “Fuck my gramma with a jack-hammer—they have a goddamn hot tub up here on the third mother-fucking floor?”

Nolan couldn’t suppress his mirth.  He was smiling when Jonah opened the door a crack.  “Thank you—“  He looked past his brother’s shoulder.  “Oh.  Hi, Len.”  He said, a little awkward.

“Hey Jones.”  Lennox responded jovially, re-entering from the sundeck.  “I’m just going.”  And he headed to the door, still shaking his head and muttering about the goddamn hottub.

“Len?”  Nolan’s call turned his friend around.  “I owe you one.”

“You owe me so fuckin’ big Delaney.”  He grinned and opened the door, balancing the tray with one hand.  “Oh, hey, what is this bullshit?”

“Pinot.” 

“I thought Pinot was white.”

“Pinot Noir.” Nolan amended.  Len narrowed his eyes and looked for all the world like Nolan was playing a joke on him.  The he shrugged. 

“Black Pinot.”  He repeated.  He chuckled as he exited.  “Probably a hit with the ladies, right?  Once you go Black Pionot…”

Nolan snorted and turned back to his brother. 

“I owe you.” Jonah said meaningfully.

Nolan’s brows knit together and he shrugged.  “Does she need a change of clothes too?”

Jonah looked into his brother’s face for a long moment.  The sooner they got moving the better, as far as Nolan was concerned.  Jonah nodded slowly in the affirmative.  Nolan made a quick nod in response and moved to find the lady’s closet.  It was probably those ten-foot tall double doors over yonder.

“Maybe pack a few outfits.”  Jonah said, a little shaky, and Nolan rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and begged for patience.  He was getting a new houseguest.

Great.  Maybe she could pay his half of the rent now that he was going to be unemployed.