Chapter One
Military Daddies
Liz
I'm so fucked!
The wind blows my blonde hair into my face and I bat my lashes, trying to avoid getting strands in my eyes. I squint, not just because of my hair, but also because of the harshness of the cold wind attacking my eyes.
My phone is held up to my ear and the howling of the wind synchronizes with the beeps in my ear, telling me that my cousin's number is still unavailable.
It was unavailable the first time I called it. It was disconnected the second time as well, but hey, the third time's the charm, right?
Wrong. Obviously not the charm. Still can't reach my cousin.
I think I might have underpacked. It's not like I didn’t check to know that it was snowing. I did, but faced with the situation of my father setting up an engagement party to announce my marriage without my knowledge, it makes sense that I couldn’t pack properly while making a desperate escape and running away from home.
Trying Sophie’s number again doesn’t change the outcome. She’s still unreachable.
“You gotta be kidding me!” I grumble under my breath. This situation is starting to make me worried. What am I supposed to do if I'm not able to reach her?
I sigh softly. I guess this is one of the downsides of being an independent person.
Instinctively, I reach up to brush the snowflakes off of my hair and I feel the icy stings as they melt beneath the warmth of my fingers.
The whistling wind is fierce, howling in my ears as I stand by the sidewalk, alone. I'm not even dressed for the cold. Fuck!
The snow falls in a delicate dance around me, and my breath forms misty clouds in the frosty air. As the numbing cold seeps through my bones, I feel acute regret for my choice of wardrobe. I’m wearing a cute fleece coat over my nice, thigh-length pleated skirt.
At least I have knee-high boots on…
A shiver runs through me as I reflexively pull my coat tightly around my slender frame, seeking refuge from the wind.
My skirt is flailing, dancing to the rhythm of the wind, and my feet are hurting in my boots.
I could have gone to Emily's or Audrey's, but those girls have a really strong influence on me. And not the good kind. I’m prone to making bad choices when I hang out with them.
My parents don't like them and they believe that Audrey and Emily are the reason for my irresponsibility. My mom always says that I lack the ability to think for myself or make my own decisions.
It’s part of the reason why they think they can just sell me off in an arranged marriage for business profit and tell me they’re doing what’s best for me.
Well, they’ve got another think coming.
I don't even know who the guy I’m supposed to marry is. I only know that he's a spoiled rich guy from an affluent family.
I won’t reach out to my friends because this is me trying to turn a new leaf just like my cousin Sophie, who is actually the reason I'm standing out here.
If Sophie could do it, so can I.
Emily and Audrey are party girls and they influenced me into joining the lifestyle. It was fun at first, clubbing, drinking, and dancing away our sadness…living life on the edge.
Recently, though, I have been having the urge to do more with my life, and Sophie was my inspiration. She has left her rich family and is thriving in the city, all by herself without having to depend on her parents for anything.
Now, that's the life I want. A life of independence, a life that commands respect.
I decided to turn over a new leaf, not to impress my parents, but because I realized that I needed to do something better with my time.
I have to prove to everyone and to myself that I can be my own boss. That there's more to me than just partying with friends.
And who is better to teach me than someone who hails from a family like mine and still figured out how to thrive on her own?
“Come on, Sophie,” I mumble to myself, standing under the soft glow of a streetlamp. “I need you now.” I try calling her one more time and still get the same result. “Shit.”
I pick up my small backpack and fling it over my shoulder. With my petite frame, one might mistake me for a high school girl returning from school.
I spot a bar up ahead and decide to go get a drink…just one, of course, just enough to keep me warm.
I push the door open and the wind whistles past my ear one last time before as I walk inside. It is noisy here, people are laughing and talking at different tables.
I let the door close behind me and head up to the bartender at the counter. I pull up a stool and mount it, dropping my backpack at my feet.
“Strawberry-coconut daiquiri, please, and a shot of vodka for warmth,” I say to the bartender and text Sophie seconds after that.
“Hey Sophie, it’s Liz. I’m stranded! Please call me as soon as you get this.”
“Waiting for someone?” A husky voice speaks beside me, and I turn to see who it belongs to.
He's a fine young man, handsome with a dreamy smile. He’s wearing a black jacket over a pair of black pants that look expensive. He has a golden Rolex on as well.
The man places his elbow on the countertop and leans against it, flashing a flirtatious grin at me.
“Please don't tell me he stood you up,” he adds.
“And what makes you think it's a ‘he’?” I ask, trying to frown at him, but he is just too cute to be angry with.
“My bad.” He laughs lightly. “I clearly shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.”
“Yeah, you shouldn't have.” I fake a smile even though deep down, it is genuine.
“So.” He pulls a stool and sits next to me. “The usual, Martin,” he says to the bartender after the man places my order on the countertop in front of me.
He's obviously a regular here.
“Tell me. Why did she stand you up?” He looks right at me.
“I never told you that it was a ‘she’,” I say to him.
“Oh, that's how you want to play this, eh?”
For some reason, I find his response actually funny, and I laugh.
“Hmm. Mhm,” I nod.
“Okay then.” He chuckles. “I'm Liam.” He reaches out for a handshake.
I hesitate for a second before taking his hand. “Elizabeth.”
“Well, Elizabeth. It's nice to meet a beauty such as you.” Liam smirks.
“Does this usually work?” I ask.
“What's that?”
“This line,” I reply. “I bet you've used it on several girls in this very bar.”
He laughs. “Do you want to wager on that?”
I scoff and chug a cup of vodka like it is a cup of orange juice. I see his expression. He’s clearly surprised, but I ignore him.
“Impressive,” he says.
He's impressed me. I was waiting for him to talk about how I'm a lady, and hence society requires me to act in a certain way, especially when it comes to alcohol.
I feel a lot warmer now, and a lot better.
The bartender returns with Liam's order. It’s a regular beer. No wonder he's impressed by what I just did.
“Sure that isn’t going to be too much?” He smiles at me.
“I drink responsibly,” I say to him.
“I wouldn't have it any other way,” he says and takes a swig of beer. “So, what brings you to this part of town? Oh, wait, don't answer that.” He looks at me. “Let me guess. You're out jogging.”
I chortle, he wasn't entirely off track.
“It depends. Am I running away from something or toward something?”
He sighs. “In my experience, it's always both.”
“How so?” I inquire, indulging him since my curiosity is piqued.
“You’re running away from a problem and at the same time, running toward something. It's simple cause and effect.” He smiles. “Plus, everyone in here is running away from something. For instance.” He subtly points in the direction of a very fat man sitting in a corner behind me.
“That's Gary. He always comes here at this time of the day to get away from his wife.” Then he nods toward a slender young woman, probably in her late twenties or early thirties.
“That's Lucy. Got divorced two years ago and lost custody of her two sons, so she comes here every evening to get away from her loneliness.” He pauses, then continues by saying to me, “What are you running away from?”
“You're here too, aren't you?” I raise my brows. “Which means you're running away from something as well. Tell me yours, and I might consider telling you mine.” I sip my drink.
“Quid pro quo, huh?”
I shrug my shoulders.
“If you insist,” he says. “Two months ago, I was supposed to be married…”
Marriage? God, no! Right now, I despise the sound of that word.
He continues, “...but three weeks before the wedding, my fiancée…”
“Let me guess, she was crazy,” I interrupt him sarcastically.
Of course he's going to give me some sad story about how his fiancée broke his heart, blah blah blah. I know his type and I find them repulsive. Tricking naive girls into falling for them with some sob story of how they were hurt in the past, to incite pity just so they could fuck them.
I manage to hide my sudden disgust.
“No,” he replies.
No? What do you mean ‘no’?
He sighs. “She wasn’t crazy. I cheated on her.”
“Okay, I'll be honest. I didn't see that coming,” I confess.
“Yeah. I fucked up. And I did it with my best friend, the one who was supposed to be her maid of honor.”
“What?” Surprise flickers in my gaze. “I never would have thought of that.”
“To make matters worse, she caught us in the act. Red-handed.” He empties the bottle he's holding into his mouth.
“That's cold, man,” I say.
I want to hit him really hard for doing that to his fiancée even though I've not met her. Poor girl. I feel sorry for her. However, I'm impressed by his honesty. It's not every day you meet people who admit to their fuck ups, especially in relationship matters.
“I already feel bad as it is. Can you stop making me feel worse?” he asks. From the look on my face, he can probably tell that I am disappointed.
But I'm also shocked that he was so open about such a grievous act.
He lifts a second bottle and chugs it.
“Ever since she called off the wedding, I've been coming here every evening, drowning my sorrow at the bottom of this bottle.” He massages his eyeballs. “It's like I said; everybody here has something they're running away from.” He turns some more vodka into his cup and empties it down his throat.
He shakes his head at the effect of the drink and noisily sets the cup back on the countertop.
“So…your turn.”
Now, I feel obligated to spill the truth. What do I have to lose? He's a complete stranger anyway.
“I'm running away from my engagement party.”
By the time I spoke, he had already taken a swig of his beer, and he almost choked on it at my response.
“You're kidding,” he says.
“I wish I was,” I reply and sip my drink. “My daddy set up the party to announce my upcoming marriage, and he did it without consulting me. So, I ran.”
Liam laughs a little. “Let's see,” he says. “I'm here drinking because I want to get married, but I can't, and you're here, drinking because you don't want to get married…but you can.”
“In summary…that's our present reality,” I reply.
“Cheers to that.” He raises his bottle, and I do the same.
We clink our drinks and throw back the contents.
“So, who were you texting?” he asks.
“My cousin,” I respond. “I wanted to come stay with her when I left my house. Now, her number is unavailable.” I sip out of my cup.
I didn't want to bother him with the fact that I am currently stranded, so I left out that part of my story.
“Well, do you have a place to stay?” he asks.
What, are you psychic?
Staring blankly at him, I drift off into my thoughts for a minute. I have some cash with me, so my plan was to find a hotel that wasn’t too expensive. It would absolutely wreck me to dip into my funds to stay at a hotel tonight…but what other choice do I have?
“I take it you don't have a place to stay, then.” His voice was calm and tender.
“Actually, I do.” I lie. While he seems harmless, his questions are beginning to make me guarded.
“Oh, you got someone else you know staying around here?” he pushes some more.
“I'm sure there is a place where I can get a room.” I raise a brow at him, a subtle message that I can handle myself. Truthfully, I do need a place to stay tonight. It’s too late to safely go hotel hunting.
Liam smiles. I know he is thinking the same thing. “Of course. There are tons of them.”
I can sense a “but” coming.
“But you won’t find one tonight,” he says what I was already thinking.
My face falls and Liam sighs, “Look, I know we just met, and asking you to come home with me might sound a little creepy, but I assure you… I just want to help out.”
We remain silent for a while as I think about it. I want to be an independent woman, and that means taking care of myself at all times. Accepting his proposal will go against what I want to stand for.
“You're your own woman, I get that,” he says.
I smile inside, liking the sound of that. It does have a nice ring to it.
He continues. “But staying at my place, at least for tonight, doesn't make you any less independent. Besides, it’ll save you the cost of renting a room for the night.” He shrugs his shoulders at the last statement.
He's sweet in his own way and is obviously not going to stop trying to convince me to go with him.
I glance over him. He really doesn’t seem like a bad guy… and I don’t dislike him.
“What's in it for you?” I ask, already buying the idea.
“The fact that I get to help you out is enough for me.” He beams a smile at me.
With a hidden grin, I ask him, “Are you always this persistent?”
“Only when I want to help.”
He's right about saving up the money for rent, anyway. I think for a while before agreeing to go with him.
“Okay,” I say to him even though I know I sound gullible. “I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning, I swear.”
He rises to his feet and smiles at me. I take out my purse and try to pay for my drink, but he tells me that he has it under control.
He pays for the drinks in cash and tips the bartender. Liam leads the way and we go over to his ride.
“You sure you’re good to drive?” I can’t help asking. Sure he seems sober, but I’m shying away from that reckless lifestyle.
Liam chuckles as we approach his car and I see the fancy electric model. “I barely had anything. This baby’s gonna be doing most of the work anyway.”
Seeing how dark it is now, I’m glad I stepped inside earlier. Standing on the sidewalk on a winter night when visibility is much lower than usual would have been dangerous. My senses sharpen as I notice subtle movement in the shadows of an alley. Chills run down my spine.
“Liam, I think there's someone over there,” I say, gripping his arm for reassurance.
“It's just your mind, Liz, there's nothing there,” he replies without even looking, taking out his car keys and pressing it, so his headlights come on as the doors unlock.
Suddenly, out of the darkness of the alley, a figure emerges, his face obscured by a mask. My heart skips as he reaches for his waistband and produces a gun. Adrenaline floods my veins, my mind racing to access the situation.
Shit! We're being robbed.
The masked man points his gun menacingly at us and I find myself wishing I hadn’t spent so much time deliberating. If we had been in the car already, we could have zoomed off, even if it was under gunfire.
“Give me your wallets and your phones, now!” our attacker demands with a low but very threatening voice.
Liam panics as he fumbles to comply. His hands shake while trying to reach for his pockets. He pulls out his wallet and the mugger snatches it before he can fully extend his hand. He looks around nervously, keeping a lookout while Liam whimpers at the violent snatch.
My instincts are screaming at me to flee, but I'm frozen in fear. My hands are trembling as I attempt to take off my backpack.
“Hurry the fuck up!” the assailant thunders, prompting my hands to fearfully drop my backpack.
Both myself and the bad guy look down at the bag, and that split second is all Liam needs. He shoves me forward so that I barrel into the mugger, and dashes for his car in the meantime.
“Take her! I can’t go down like this!” he yells as he slams his foot on the gas with his door still open, his car peeling away loudly.
My breath catches in my throat as I watch Liam abandon me, the roar of his car engine sounding further away with each second.
The mugger wastes no time shoving me away from him, and all I can think about was how I would be dead if this guy was trigger-happy. Liam’s push had caused him to stagger as my body fell into him before he pushed me off.
“Did that fucking coward just…” Even the mugger is in disbelief. His gun is trained on me again as I lie on the ground. I’m shaking like a leaf, knowing how close I had just come to an accidental death. What if the push made the mugger shoot me? Liam hadn’t cared.
The mugger shakes his head and turns back to me. “Looks like your luck sucks,” he says.
As he reaches to pick up my backpack, the sudden sound of sirens and a police car’s headlights shining from behind us makes him jump.