Ball
THE BALL, AS EXPECTED, WAS EXTRAVAGANT. A lot of people were draped on their best dress. Well-renowned entrepreneurs, famous celebrities and young future businessmen were gathered at the event.
It was to be expected—the Clarkson was an influential family after all.
Devon linked her arms with Nathaniel.
She had been holding onto his arms as if her life depended on it. She tried her best to hide her apprehension, but it seemed like he noticed her uneasiness. “Are you okay?” Nathaniel asked, worried.
She nodded glibly. “Yeah.”
“Just relax,” he wheedled, “Do you want a drink?”
“Sure.”
He called the waiter and asked for a drink.
The waiter handed the two of them a bloody-mary. She propped her elbow on the cocktail table, taking a swig. She took a sharp intake of breath and exhaled deeply. The alcohol somehow managed to calm her nerves.
I guess I’ll have to have some fun, she thought.
IN THE CENTER CORNER of the event area, there was a narrow silver table where all veteran businessmen were gathered. She saw her father converse with the other business owners. Then there’s Sammuel Clarkson—a blonde, sinewy man, who’s the same age as him. The two men had the same body built and both par with the degree of superiority in the business industry. They were talking about some matters that she could never fathom and would rather not bother doing so.
“Long time no see, Devon Gale.” A familiar voice said. She turned around to identify the person.
She arched her brow at the brunet male. He had a tall, athletic frame. His prominent green eyes twinkled, just by one look, one could tell that he was Mr. Congeniality. “Oh, it’s Montgomery,” she uttered dully.
“Still grumpy as ever, huh.”
“Shut the hell up,” she scoffed, “Why are you here anyway?”
Stephen Montgomery was her second cousin from her father’s side. They were childhood friends. He was the optimistic type of guy, always friendly and approachable, born with an innate good vibe. He was dazzling like the usual—which was one of the reasons why she hated him. It was as if that smile on his face was inherent. They were the polar opposite of each other.
“I’m a businessman, remember? An heir, that is,” he replied, smiling. The statement was supposed to sound arrogant, but when it came from him, it was more like a humble victory speech from a down-to-earth winner.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Why is this guy always so carefree? It’s like he doesn’t have any problem in this world.
Nathaniel made his appearance, feigning cough. “Uhm, am I interrupting something?” He asked.
Stephen scanned him from head-to-toe. It wasn’t the type of scrutiny that made him feel self-conscious or uneasy, it was more of studying him. “Who must you be?” He asked, shooting Devon a knowing look.
She glared at Stephen, and then turned her gaze to Nathaniel. “He’s my—” Slave, she wanted to say but it sounded so inappropriate. She cogitated for a more appropriate word, scanning through her imaginary thesaurus.
“Boyfriend?” Stephen finished for her, which elicited him another glare from her.
Before, it would’ve been easy to demean him in public. But now, things have changed. She didn’t want to degrade Nathaniel and the guy had somehow earned her… respect. Devon won’t gonna admit it, though. She wouldn’t want the guy to know.
“Caretaker,” Nathaniel interjected.
Stephen had an amused look on his visage, he grinned lopsidedly. “How old are you, Devon? Ten?” He jested.
Nathaniel and Stephen chuckled faintly.
Devon narrowed her eyes down at the two of them.
The two men seemed to be getting along. Stephen and Nathaniel were teaming up against her.
“AH, DEVON. IT’S BEEN so long ever since I’d last seen you. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman,” Sammuel Clarkson said, fascinated.
“Thank you, uncle,” Devon replied, flattered. She has a high reverence for Samuel Clarkson. Out of all her Dad’s business partners, Sammuel was the only one she could consider someone close to a father.
The ironic thing was, her uncle Sammuel had a much closer relationship with her (despite not being blood relatives) than he had with his biological daughter, Zoe.
“You’re insulting my daughter,” Emmanuel Leonhardt—Devon’s father—interjected, “She has always been beautiful, Emman,” he corrected in jest.
The two men laughed.
She smiled politely.
Sammuel bore an aura of respect and authority, but at the same time, he wasn’t intimidating.
“By the way, where’s Zoe?” Her father asked.
For a moment, Sammuel’s face somehow turned grim. But after a while, he regained his usual expression. “She’s not coming.”
There was something going on with the Clarkson family. There was something wrong. Even though she wasn’t perceptive, she just knew it.
SHE WENT TO THE POWDER ROOM for her make-up retouch.
When she came back, she saw Nathaniel talking with a blonde female. Just by the look of the girl’s eyes, Devon knew that she had an interest with Nathaniel. She was ogling him from head to toe.
“I know you want me,” said the female, batting her eyelashes lecherously, “Stop playing hard to get, handsome.”
She could discern the uneasiness on Nathaniel’s face. Her ire rose upon seeing the slutty female’s finger hover over Nathaniel’s chest, tracing it flirtatiously.
She sashayed toward them.
When she was near their earshot, she called, “Nate-babe! There you are!” Her voice was sweet, loud enough for Nathaniel and the female to hear.
Nathaniel, at first, was surprised. But when he finally got what she was trying to pull off, he played along. “Ah, it took you a while.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled “Babe.”
“Wait…” The scene unravelling before her bewildered the flirty female, but after a while, she recovered. She cleared her throat and finally spoke again. “Devon… Is that you?” The blonde female inquired.
“Who are you?” She asked.
“You don’t remember me?” The female looked like she was insulted on Devon’s oblivion.
“Am I supposed to?” Devon arched her brow, eyeing her from head-to-toe.
“It’s Meredith,” she rectified, “We used to be best friends in high school. I was a popular cheerleader.”
Devon perused through her train of memories. And when everything rang a bell, she finally remembered. Meredith Mables a.k.a the skank—her former so-called cheerleader friend in high school.
Meredith befriended Devon for her fortune.
Back when she was in high school, Devon wasn’t popular, but Meredith noticed her. She would often invite her to parties. She was gladdened when the school’s it-girl acknowledged her. They had gotten along quite well, but one day she found out that the skank was only using her for money. She was pretty generous. She’d often give her friends' dresses and some other stuff… before.
Hell, she almost ditched Brianna for the skank.
She had heard about Meredith’s infamous tales of stealing her friends’ boyfriends.
I was pretty naïve back then… but not anymore, she thought. Devon flashed a sweet sham smile. “I remember you now.”
“Good,” she said, relieved, “How have you been? I really missed you. You suddenly became distant; I didn’t even know the reason why. We graduated without ever talking to each other again.” Her gaze then landed on Nathaniel. “And wow, you have a handsome boyfriend. You’ve finally earned a good taste.”
She hated how fake Meredith was. Even without further scrutiny, she could tell that she had undergone a lot of plastic surgery—breast augmentations, nose job, face lift. Name it and she had it. This girl is obviously the living definition of counterfeit. “I’ve been, well,” she replied, the deceptive saccharine smile still remaining on her lips, and then she added with insinuation laced on her tone, “Still real as ever.”
It seemed like Meredith didn’t get the message. She laughed an ireful laughter that caused Devon to cringe inwardly. “I see.”
Is she naturally dumb or just super dumb? It seemed like her intelligence had been bleached off by her surgeries. “Yeah. Nice dress by the way,” she commented, “Its gangrene shade could definitely pass the morgue.”
Offended, Meredith arched her brow. “Excuse me? Are you insulting me?”
“No, I’m praising you,” Devon jibed, and then rolled her eyes.
Her brows furrowed. “For your information, this is the latest trend in Paris.”
“You really don’t know how to differentiate a funeral home to Paris.”
Meredith’s face flushed red in anger. “You insolent bi—”
Before she could continue her retort, Devon grabbed a glass of drink from the nearest waiter’s tray and hurled the liquid contents directly on Meredith’s face.
Nathaniel didn’t bother coming in between them, he knew how unstoppable Devon was at moments like this. His mouth went agape.
She gasped. “You really are a bitch!” Meredith hollered indignantly, “I knew right from the start that you’ve got a rotten personality hidden underneath your angelic façade back when we were in high school.”
Meredith’s makeup was smeared, her dress was soaked wet.
“Thank you!” Devon quipped, “You’ve contributed in teaching me how to be one. I’ve learned from the experts.”
“Y-You’ll pay for this!”
“How much? I can buy you, your dress and all those surgeries.”
“………” Meredith was speechless. She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again. It seemed like she was out of jeer.
They have garnered quite an audience. But Devon didn’t care. She crossed her arms and smirked triumphantly. “Next time you mess with me, make sure you’re not handicapped,” she uttered flippantly.
If she were her past self, she would have buried everything into nothingness. But now, things were different, she wasn’t forgiving as she was before.
She eyed the spectators one by one. The swarm of people got the message and gave the way for her. She strutted forward, not minding the attention they were giving her.
Nathaniel followed behind.
• • •
“YOU’VE PUT ON QUITE A SHOW.” Nathaniel muttered.
After creating that scene, she went to the balcony to get some cool air. Dealing with Meredith the skank has been just too much for her head to handle. After some reflection, she kind of had regrets on doing that to her—she wasn’t worth the effort.
“If you’re going to reprimand me about it, I won’t gonna’ bother listening to whatever you have to say.” she said with conviction.
Nathaniel chuckled faintly. “Actually, I won’t,” he denied, “You actually saved my ass, she was such a—,” he trailed off, cogitating.
“—Skank,” she finished off, and then sighed, “And you’re welcome.”
He laughed, amused. “I’ll give you that.”
Silence reigned over them. The only sound they could hear was the rustling of the wind. The moon from the obsidian sky waned. There were stars, infinite of them.
“We should go back,” Nathaniel informed. “The social dance is about to start.”
She grunted. “I don’t want to.”
“Your dad said that you have to.”
“No.” She shook her head.
In the end, he managed to convince her.
Devon received various dance invitations from businessmen and some other people she hadn’t heard about. The whole time, she was smiling and nodding; socializing in the most cordial way she could manage. The songs played were pretty jovial, and she was quite thankful for that. She hated slow love songs.
Despite her notorious reputation, she still had tad vanity left in her system.
Every time she was around her dad’s associates and business partners, a smile would automatically cross her face. She had gotten used to it. She probably must have looked like a fool. My jaw hurts, I fucking look like a fool here. If one of these men insults me, would I still even smile?
When “Fool’s rush” played, she immediately skedaddled away from the throng of people. Ugh, love songs!
But her emission wasn’t successful; a forceful hand grabbed her by the wrist.
She cursed under her breath as she was yanked. “What the fu—” Her words were cut off when she recognized the culprit. “Nathaniel?!”
“You’re leaving already?”
“No, I’m gonna pee here,” she answered sarcastically.
For a moment, his brows constricted, he was about to retort, but then held himself back.
Instead of clashing with her whining, he bent down and held out his hand, copying the posture of a classic gentleman. “May I have this dance?”
“Fine,” she huffed, accepting his hand as she hesitantly placed her hands on his shoulders.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, leading her on.
Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?
If I can't help falling in love with you
There was strange static electricity on their light skin contact. She tried to keep a straight face, the usual nonchalant mask that she wore. But she gained awareness that her façade was on the verge of faltering.
Like a river flows gently to the sea
Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
Cause I can't help falling in love with you
She looked him in the eye—his profound brown eyes that were so tantalizing, sucking her into another world.
For I can't help falling in love with you
The blaring sound of the stereo slowly dissipated.
Her chest throbbed. The only sound she could hear her was her heartbeat, pounding in her ears.
That sound. It’s been so long ever since she had heard it.
And then something dawned on her—she fell for him. She said she never would, but she did.
All this time, without even realizing it, he broke through her walls and melted the ice surrounding her heart.
And she was foolish enough to build a bridge for him to cross.
This can’t be. Her eyes welled with tears, she was in a hopeless situation—she’ll have to deal with another loss again.
Everything happened so fast.
The crowd dispersed as they ran in circles and screamed in panic. Her face turned paper white as she heard the continuous rattling sound of gunshots.
Nathaniel’s weight went against her shoulder, his body somehow limped, and his breath hitched. Tentatively, she trailed her hands down his back. She felt something liquid flowing on his back.
Slowly, she removed her palm from his back to see what it was.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. She didn’t want to believe it; she wished this was just one of her nightmares.
The gooey substance was red.
Blood.