Defenseless (9 page)

T
he moon hung high while filtered rays pierced through the Palladian windows, serving as the only light in Sonya's living room.

“She should have been home by now,” Sonya fretted. She paced across the polished marble for the millionth time.

“Are you sure you called all her friends?” Dwayne asked without looking up. He held his head between his hands and stared down at the floor.

“Everyone that I know of. Laura doesn't have many friends.”

Dwayne searched for words that would soothe her but could think of none.

“What can the police do?” Sonya asked.

“We've already gone over this. The police will think she skipped bail.”

“But she
wouldn't
skip bail. She wouldn't do anything that stupid.”

“Please sit down, Sonya. You're making me a nervous wreck.”

Sonya looked as if she wanted to argue, but sat in the cream-colored love seat on the opposite side of him. She crossed her long, slender legs, and Dwayne caught his breath at the sight of the moonlight caressing their shapely form. His eyes slowly traveled to her form-fitting dress that glowed in the luminous light. When he looked up to meet her worried expression, he felt a tight knot form in the pit of his stomach. She looked beautiful with the radiant moonlight dancing along each curl of her hair.

Dwayne's eyes traveled to her flawlessly shaped lips. He could feel himself being drawn to them. When he looked back into her eyes, he noticed they seemed to glow with passion.

Suddenly she stood up, never taking her eyes from his. She reached behind her dress and pulled the zipper in the back. Mesmerized, he watched the dress slide to the floor. Shimmering lights kissed the various parts of her glorious body that stood before him. His breathing became shallow as he looked upon his Venus. Her firm legs led him to a flat, tight stomach that promised him a world of wonder and discovery. His eyes traveled to her ample breasts that demanded attention. Dwayne felt his passion rising.

 

“Dwayne, do you hear me? Dwayne!” Sonya's voice boomed, shattering his romantic vision.

Dwayne looked guiltily at Sonya, who sat fully clothed in the love seat opposite him.

“Hello, is anyone home?” Sonya said, waving her hand in front of his face.

“I…Uh. Yes, I'm sorry,” Dwayne sputtered, jumping to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Sonya asked, her eyes widening in alarm.

“I…I need to use the phone,” he said, wanting to leave the room.

“Well, there's one beside you.” Sonya pointed to a gold phone sitting on the glass table beside the sofa.

“It's a personal call,” he offered as an explanation.

“Oh,” Sonya said, standing. “Follow me, there's one in the kitchen.”

Crossing the spacious living room, Dwayne searched for something, anything, to say. “When did you redecorate?”

“I reordered my furniture the same day I was released from the hospital.” They entered the kitchen. “There's the phone.” Sonya pointed.

She left him alone in the kitchen to make his call.

What is wrong with me?
He waited a few minutes to gain his composure before he dialed home.

“Hamilton residence,” Bridget answered pertly.

“Hello, honey, it's me.”

“Oh, hello, sweetheart,” Bridget answered too seductively.

“Sweetheart?”

“I'm joking, Dad.”

Dwayne shook his head against the phone. “I'm calling to let you know that I'm coming home late tonight, so don't wait up.”

“Ah, sugar-daddy got a date,” Bridget teased.

“On the contrary. I'm waiting for a client.”

Sonya returned to the kitchen and headed to the refrigerator. “I'll see you when I get home,” Dwayne said, watching Sonya from the corner of his eye. “All right, I love you, too. Bye.”

Sonya placed the bottled water back in the refrigerator. She stiffened at hearing Dwayne's words.

“Mind if I get something to drink myself? I'm dying of thirst,” he asked from behind. His rich voice sent chills down her spine.

“Of course,” she said, refusing to look back at him. “What would you like? I have Coke, Sprite and just about any kind of fruit juice you like.”

“Do you have anything stronger?” He peered over her shoulder to look for himself.

Dwayne's nearness caused a deep blush to stain her cheeks. “I…ah, think I have some Merlot. I really don't keep anything stronger than wine.”

“Then Merlot it is. We need something to soothe our nerves.”

Sonya turned to retrieve glasses from the cupboard. Moments later, they sat in the living room, sipping on the rich taste of Sonya's favorite red wine.

“Tell me a little about yourself,” Dwayne asked, staring directly into Sonya's eyes.

Sonya didn't know whether it was the wine or his intense gaze that caused her to feel warm. “There's nothing to tell.” She rolled her finger around the glass rim.

“Oh, I doubt that.”

Sonya smiled awkwardly. “I'm sure you've already run a background check on me, so you already know everything.”

Dwayne returned her smile. “I know the basics. You've accomplished a lot to get where you are and in such a short time. President of your own advertising company. That's very impressive.”

“A great deal of it came from being in the right place at the right time.”

“You graduated cum laude from Harvard. I think you're being too modest. Surely there's more?”

“No, that's about it.”

“And your sister?” he asked, changing the subject.

“What about her?”

“You both are so…different.”

“On the surface maybe, but in here—” Sonya pointed to her heart “—we are very much the same.”

“Why haven't you ever married?” Dwayne asked after a long pause.

Sonya chose her words carefully before speaking again. “I'm not so sure if I believe in marriage.” She didn't try to hide the pain covering her face. “Would you like some more wine?” Sonya offered, as she got up and headed toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Once in the kitchen, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. What was it about this man that caused her to react this way? She had never discussed such a personal question before, not even with Laura.

Only fools believed in marriage, she thought. Men looked at the institution as if it meant ownership. It was no more than a license for them to treat their wives like a piece of meat. She remembered the times she had to cover her ears from hearing the beatings her father rained nightly on her mother. She remembered, vividly, the black eyes and broken noses as if it were yesterday.

Once, Laura made the comment that their parents' situation was their mother's fault, but Laura was too young to know any better. It was probably how she adopted the notion that when Curtis abused her, it was somehow her fault.

Sonya decided in her heart, a long time ago, that she would never marry. She fought to get out of the projects and make something of herself. Now she had accomplished everything she had dreamed of, and she did it without the help of a man.

“Sonya, are you all right in there?” Dwayne called.

“Yes. I'll be right there,” she answered. She wiped a lone tear from her eye and returned to the living room with a new bottle of wine.

When she entered the room, Dwayne had taken off his jacket and tie and was now busy loosening his collar. When their eyes locked again, Sonya fought a powerful urge to go to him. It was a feeling that confused her.

Dwayne pulled his eyes away first. “If I didn't know better, Miss Walters, I would think you were trying to get me drunk.”

Sonya smiled and sat the new bottle of Merlot between them. “I thought about what you said,” Dwayne spoke seriously again. “I have to disagree with you. I believe marriage to be a beautiful institution. Men and women were ultimately put on this earth to coexist together.”

“Then why aren't you married, Mr. Hamilton?” Sonya asked with a sarcastic smile.

“I was married once,” Dwayne said, looking down at his glass. “My wife passed away almost thirteen years ago.”

Sonya felt his pain instantly. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, leaning forward to take his hand. The unexpected electrical current from his touch caused her to release it.

Silent moments passed between them before Dwayne spoke again. This time there was a small tremor to his voice. “Why don't you believe in marriage?” he asked softly.

Sonya closed her eyes. She didn't want to answer, nor did she want to open herself up to this man. “It's just my silly opinion.” She tried laughing off his question, but the serious look on Dwayne's face told her that he didn't accept her explanation.

“Sonya, not every man is like Curtis.” This time he leaned in to take her hand. There was a softness in his eyes that made her want to trust him. She wondered what it would be like to trust a man with all her doubts and uncertainties. A warning bell rang loud in her head. Sonya pulled her hand from his touch and faked her self-confidence. “I'm sure you feel that you're the spokesman for your gender, Mr. Hamilton, but the truth is, I've never met a man worthy of my love.”

Dwayne's eyes didn't lose their softness. “Maybe one day you will, Miss Walters.”

Again Sonya felt uncomfortable with their conversation. “It's getting late.” She stood and walked away from him. She paused beside one of the windows and gazed out. Her instincts told her that Dwayne was standing behind her.

“What are you afraid of, Sonya? Love? Companionship? I assure you, these things are nothing to fear.”

Sonya attempted to laugh at his observation but failed. Her voice cracked, and she knew then she was caught. She turned around to face him, knowing he could see the tears gathering in her eyes. “It's been my experience, Mr. Hamilton, that a woman's love is something very fragile. Unfortunately it's also something too many women give away carelessly. I don't plan to make that same mistake. I fought for too long to prove that I define my happiness. I don't need or want to depend on anyone else to give me what I am capable of doing myself.”

Dwayne's face softened under the tranquil glow cascading through the window. “I know you've been hurt, Sonya.” He reached up and gently began to caress her cheek. “Don't let the ignorance of a couple of men rule your heart against the rest of us.”

“Are you considering yourself in a different class than Curtis, Mr. Hamilton?” Sonya wanted to pull away but couldn't.

Dwayne smiled. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

This time Sonya did pull away. “I think it's time you left, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Are you going to be all right tonight? Maybe I should take one of the extra bedrooms upstairs. I don't like the thought of you being left alone,” Dwayne said with concern in his voice.

Sonya's stomach tightened at the thought of them sleeping under the same roof. She was still too confused about the strong emotions exploding within her just from looking at him. Yet what could she say? She definitely had enough room, and she would be lying if she said that today's events didn't leave her shaken up a bit. She was grateful he'd stayed this long, but she didn't want him to continue with his interrogation.

“Sonya?”

Acknowledging she didn't feel safe alone, she looked back into his probing eyes. “I would like it very much if…you would stay the night, Mr. Hamilton.”

 

Dwayne glanced at the clock beside his bed. Three-fifteen, five minutes since the last time he'd checked. The guest room Sonya gave him was directly across from her room, a thought he was unable to forget. He wondered if he should call Sharon again to check on Bridget.

He had called Bridget after deciding to stay the night with Sonya. He didn't want to leave his daughter home alone, so he instructed her to spend the night at her aunt's house. He had also called three times after she arrived safely at Sharon's to check up on her. He knew Bridget could be a handful and was probably trying to see how much she could pull over her aunt's eyes. Looking at the clock again, he decided against it. Sharon was no pushover—surely she had things under control.

Dwayne pulled himself into a sitting position, realizing he wasn't about to get to sleep anytime soon. He let the moonlight serve as his light as he stood up from the bed. The unpleasant feeling of cold marbled floors sent shivers to his spine as he pulled on his pants and headed toward the door. He successfully made it out of his room without making a sound, then headed toward the staircase.

As he descended, he admired Sonya's palatial house. The elaborate style was indeed impressive, yet he felt the grand home didn't quite fit the woman he saw in Sonya. There was no doubt in his mind that she was a strong, intelligent and classy woman, but he had the distinct impression this house represented a wall, perhaps a fortress, she built around herself. The house was beautiful, but it lacked the warmth and laughter it needed to turn it into a home.