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Chapter Two
Arabelle Davenport dabbed a fresh layer of gloss on her lips, fully aware that she trembled. She ignored the blatant sign that she was shaken up and instead smoothed down her glittering mini skirt.
Right. She smacked her lips together and silently vowed to have the most fun ever. She deserved it. She had worked hard the last three years, not only passing all her courses with flying colors but cum laude too.
She nodded at her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom of Dazzlepants, a kind of quirky name for one of the hottest bars around. Yes, this was her right. And this was her celebration. She had graduated with a degree in psychology and this was supposed to be a crazy weekend-long party session.
She and her friends had planned to bar hop every night and have the time of their lives. Except in less than five minutes her father had completely destroyed hers that very afternoon.
She shook her head, steering herself away from the events that had transpired in his office in their once palatial home.
For a second the sheer magnitude of what was expected of her threatened to rob her of her breath and her ability to stand. But she was strong, just as her mother had been, and brushed aside her internal tumult instantly.
If nothing, before her death, Mariam Davenport had taught her how to stand up to the patriarchs in a family where they ruled everything. Her father could order her around and, in the end, she would end up doing his bidding but that didn’t mean she was going to go down meekly.
She might have obeyed her father and diligently signed the papers he had offered her, with his lawyer and true friend, Uncle Harvey on hand, but as far as she was concerned she had done her duty.
She was going to resume life as normal, at least for tonight. What happened tomorrow would happen. She had always lived her life on borrowed time anyway. Getting a scholarship, going to college, and trying to remain as normal as possible had all been a lie.
Her mother had told her an abundant number of times that while she wanted her daughter to be fierce, she did have a duty to her family. One day it would fall on her to bring them out of the dark shadows of gloom her grandfather had unwittingly placed them in.
Her mother had been talking of marriage. Arabelle had expected she would marry an Englishman and it would happen at least when she was in her thirties and had already lived some of her life her way.
But her father had crushed that fantasy. The time had come for her to do her part for the Davenport family.
But not tonight, she reiterated quietly to herself in the mirror.
She patted her cheeks, hoping to soothe away the flushness in her skin, and escaped the bathroom.
Rock music met her ears on her way to meet the rest of her friends who were seated in a quieter booth area of the bar.
“Belle,” Monique shouted. “Beautiful Belle. We missed you.”
Monique was one of her oldest and dearest friends and someone who became totally plastered after two drinks and by the looks of it in the time Belle had been in the bathroom she had already downed three. Oh boy. But then again Arabelle was the same, so she should be the last person to talk.
“Girl, we are getting you laid tonight,” she hiccupped and repeated herself loud enough that everyone nearby turned their head to look their way. If Arabelle was mortified, she was downright red when Monique pointed at her and said it one more time for good measure.
“Woohoo,” Sharon and Louise chorused.
“And I think I have the perfect guy for you. Look, see that hottie in the blue shirt, the one with the pretty smile. He’s hot and he’s perfect for you,” Louise chimed in.
“No. No. He’s too preppy. Too pretty. What about hunk a hunk over there? Two o’clock. The one in the red t-shirt with the tattoos. He’s screaming bad boy and I bet you a million dollars he knows how to eat cake,” Sharon said. “Trust me, I can spot them a mile away. My radar to spot a good gardener for our lady gardens is unquestionable. That guy knows his vag cuisine, I’m telling you.”
“Oh shut up, Sharon. You’ve only ever been with one guy.”
“I rest my case. I’m the pussy-eater whisperer, I chose the right one right off the bat… and cock.”
Arabelle couldn’t help but laugh. Her friends were raucous and funny and she loved them with all her heart. They had also made it their mission in life to see Arabelle lose her virginity once and for all.
She hadn’t had time to date. Keeping her grades up so her scholarship could renew each year had taken up ninety-nine percent of her life. Besides, she lived vicariously through her friends’ experiences. Sharon was happy in love and lust. Monique’s on-again-off-again relationship with Jasmine was never short of drama and Louise was happy to just sample without buying anything to take home just yet.
She hadn’t told any of her friends what had transpired in her father’s office that afternoon. She didn’t want to spoil the mood and she needed at least this one night before everything in her world changed and every shred of being happy would be torn from her.
“No to preppy guy and no to hunk guy as well,” she said saucily, taking a sip of the drink they had already ordered for her. A bright pink cocktail that made her eyes water as the vodka hit. She wasn’t an accomplished drinker, in fact, she was probably worse than Monique.
Monique stuck her tongue out at both Sharon and Louise. “I’m going to find Belle the perfect bed partner. One that is not only going to take your virginity but also take you to the moon and back. Watch and learn ladies.”
Arabelle planned to play the game as long as they wanted. She couldn’t even understand why a tingling of guilt sailed through her. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She did hope they would tire of it soon when she refused all potential virginity takers and they could start dancing instead. It was her one night only. She had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow.
