Shadows & Strings

After an early dinner with my parents. Larry shuttles us to the standalone building where the charity ball is being held in the city. A rabble of reporters man the threshold with press pushing for an exclusive. The moment we enter the guarded entrance, we are greeted by a symphony of breathtaking architectural features. The soaring ceilings, adorned with intricate crystal chandeliers, cast a warm and inviting glow upon the meticulously crafted space.

The centerpiece of the ballroom is a gleaming, polished marble dance floor that invites the elite guests. Surrounding the dance floor are intricately carved pillars, adding a touch of grandeur to the space. We drift inside, my golden dress blends with the aesthetic, designed with an old-money flair. A tray presents itself before my parents and they primly pluck the flutes of champagne. Before they can even sample an ounce, hyenas in crisp suits draw to my father's advent.

I nod knowingly back at them before I wander at my own leisure, admiring the beauty. The ball room boasts expansive windows that frame the ballroom, offering panoramic views of the surrounding night-lit outdoor garden. The expansive space seamlessly transitions to the garden, creating a harmonious blend of indoor and outdoor spaces.

"Thank god."

I whirl around to see Alister rushing over to me.

"Someone young."

I break into a smile and we delight in a quick embrace.

I give him an impressed look. "You clean up nice."

"And you look well."

My brows clench with a growing smile. "That's an odd one."

"I'm sorry, the title of the fairest in the land belongs to my girlfriend," he says with a star-flecked stare, like he's picturing her before him now.

"Alister, the world needs more guys like you."

He does look dashing. His sun-streaked hair groomed to perfection, a young Jay Gatsby kind of fellow, but his hair is quite long, medium hairstyle, emulating Patrick Bateman's hair in the movie "American Psycho."

He sports a three-piece suit crafted from the finest navy blue pinstripe fabric, exuding timeless sophistication. The double-breasted jacket features peak lapels, accentuating its classic appeal. Paired with a crisp white shirt, a silk pocket square, and a gold tiepin.

"So, you're here as a family?"

He quirks those perfectly shaped brows. "An international tycoon that my father has been vying to broker an alliance with is attending because his brother-in-law grew up in Braidwood. He thought he would come and show his support as a tribute to him." A measure of malice leaks into his tone. "A big family man, which is why I am here. So my father can parade me around like a trophy."

"Amara."

I follow the voice to my father. He outstretches a beckoning arm so I can come over to greet the cluster of suited men.

"I'm sure you can relate."

I look back at him sharply. "It's not like that. We'll talk later, yeah?"

I come to my father's side, and he lays a delicate hand on my elbow. He introduces to me a group with a litany of titles and names I simply don't care to remember. However, I do what I always do, smile, mouth platitudes and express my fraudulent pleasure upon making their acquaintance. It's not that I don't care, it's that I've lived nights like these a thousand times. The same story, different faces. And it easily becomes wearisome. The only thing that spares me even a morsel of motivation is that it indeed is for a worthy cause. I've seen for myself the philanthropic work the charity does. A monotonous evening is a cheap price to pay to do good.

I depart the conversation, feigning interest in the open interactive displays showcasing the relief fund's mission and accomplishments. These displays encourage guests to learn more about the cause they are supporting and provide opportunities for additional contributions throughout the night.

The evening starts with an orchestra performance, giving time for everyone to find their allocated seats. Each one is worth twenty grand. Not the table. A seat. Appetizers adorn the surface even though the first course is served whilst the host welcomes all and gives a run-down of the program.

When it's time for the auction, my eyes nearly glaze over.

A slight tap on my shoulder. Without looking at my mother, I amend my posture. I glance at my father with a stoic mask over his face. His gaze falls on me. He makes a gun gesture, then places the tips of fingers on his temple. And playfully blows his brains out, making a dead face, sticking out his tongue. I stifle a smile. Fairly accurate—bored to death.

I look away, and Alister captures my attention. He smiles and subtly motions to the back door that leads outside. I clear my throat and I slant closer to my parent's side.

"I need the bathroom," I whisper.

They both mirror each other's nod.

I rise, adjusting my dress, and I watch Alister stand at the same time as me.

We watch one another as we walk parallel to each other until we are fated to link at the end. He pushes the door open for me. I cast a furtive glance at the back of my parents' heads. I breeze through, passing the outdoor deck to create a significant space between the event and us. Stepping out into the garden, my eyes skim over a drapery of vibrant flora and meticulously manicured hedges. The air is perfumed with the scent of blooming flowers, creating an enchanting ambiance. Meandering stone pathways lead Alister and I through charming nooks and hidden alcoves, perfect for intimate conversations or quiet contemplation.

"I needed a breather," he says, releasing a whooshing breath. "And you looked like you were about to pass out."

I hold back a laugh, sounding like I sneezed. "It's been a long week, Alister."

"It seems your fatigue began a while ago, if I'm not mistaken."

I know what he's hinting at.

"Have you ever known a person who... embodies a nightmare? Just as terrifying, ephemeral, yet reoccurring."

"Why are we talking about my father?"

We share a look. He smiles sadly.

"Of course, I would deny this if you ever repeated it. But Valencio King is a visage of a man," he says, a vacant look enters his eyes. "Charismatic and noble to the masses. A king. I can promise you it's not the same when there aren't cameras pointed at him."

I don't know what to say, so I say all I can. "I'm sorry."

He fixes his eyes on me with a searching gaze, as if he had hoped to find a kindred spirit.

"I thought you were like me," he says softly. "The pretense, you know, the burden of being thrusted into the spotlight because of your father. You have to act a certain way—all the time and—"

"Display a united front," I conclude.

Starlight catches a glimmer in his eyes. "Yes... exactly. I have mastered being able to detect what's true and what isn't. But what you have with your dad goes beyond blood-bound duty. Something you can't fake."

We come to the centerpiece fountain that takes center stage, its cascading waters providing a soothing backdrop to the festivities. Twinkling fairy lights delicately wrap around the trees, casting a magical glow upon the garden, while elegant lanterns illuminate the pathways and various secluded seating areas. Very romantic.

"Family is a support system—at least it should be," I deliberate. "Family is sacrifice. He would do anything for me as I would for him."

Alister smiles amiably, but something dark looms behind those bright eyes.

"Enough about me and my daddy issues."

"I suppose it's my turn then," I say, moving in aimless circles.

"No, I didn't tell you that to coerce a confession but to let you know that you're not alone. We all face our own troubles. I only offer a lifeline so you don't drown in the silence of your own anguish."

I stop to face him, both of us standing in front of the fountain.

"You just made that up, like right now?"

He chuckles for a heartbeat. "No, I've been rehearsing that line all week, Amara."

"I can tell," I say, matching his sarcasm. "You definitely perfected the execution."

A flash of light followed by a camera click.

"The prince and princess of Braidwood," a male reporter coos.

Alister stands in front of me protectively. "This is a restricted area. Leave."

"Not without a close-up."

He brings the camera to his face. Alister takes my wrist and pulls me away, accelerating our pace before he releases my hand. We try to evade our pesty pursuer, only to encounter another coming from the east. Alister speeds up to a jog and I pick up the skirt of my dress to run after him. Suddenly, he dives left and disappears from sight. A hand clamps around my arm, yanking me into an alcove, concealed by its deep-seated shadow. Seconds later, shadows flit by, ensued by barking—the guards found them. Even when the bounty of voices fade into the night, Alister and I remain in our secret, safe corner.

He looks down at me, and I look up. We both burst into muffled laughs. His laugh perishes once he realizes how dangerously close we are. We both flounder apologetically at the compromising position, spilling out of the alcove. Alister runs a hand through his hair, commanding the golden waves, letting them lap over each other lavishly.

"We should get back."

I nod quickly. "I'm sure my mom is on the way to check the bathroom as we speak."

¬¬¬

After a late night shower, I change into one of grandpop's old t-shirts, huge and comfortable. He was my beary, a bear of a man, big but soft and cuddly. A gentle giant whose smile could nourish the summer blooms and‌ whose soul illuminated the earth. My sun who lit up my entire little world. If you knew him; you loved him. Everyone did, waiters, receptionists, sales people—everyone he encountered, however brief. That was the magnitude of the impact he had. How time robbed me of the years we should've spent together.

My fingers rub my wrist subconsciously, thinking how life had also dispossessed me of the last thing he had given me, by putting the spawn of satan in my life. And it's back, but he is still gone, along with a precious remnant of him. I get in bed and I respond to unanswered messages. And of course, one of them is Vanko. And this time he sent a picture.

I bolt upright, my eyes strike wide, gaping at the screen. A deceiving picture of Alister and I standing in front of the fountain like a scene out of a romance movie—the full moon, the fountain cascading shimmering water. Even though there is a sizable, platonic gap between us. The shot depicts something more than friendly fondness, especially the way we're both gazing hypnotically at each other with a hint of a smile. It's like we're having a...moment, but it wasn't like that at all. NOT AT ALL.

Vanko: Now I know what's really keeping you busy.