The Unmaking (The Rayne Whitmore Series Book 1) Read online

  Chapter One

  “Great, don’t tell me that it’s time already for your weird vampire show fixation. What is it this time?” My favorite/ only sister is standing in front of the television, dyed auburn hair cut short with a bang to the left side, nearly covering her eye. The latest brand name jeans are hugging her too-quickly-for-my-liking developing body. She asks, abruptly ending my silent Buffy time that is a monthly ritual of mine. I hadn’t heard her enter the den area connected to my bedroom as I was occupied watching my favorite episodes.

  I roll my eyes at her, pretending to be irritated as I pause the episode just as Spike is getting ready to sing his musical number to Buffy. “Do not go there. These shows are sacred and Buffy is a classic.” She smacks her lips in irritation and I give her a smirk.

  I look into her almond shaped hazel eyes and then at her cherry glossed full lips that match mine as if we are twins and not six years apart. My sister is very much the type to do her own thing. She has plenty of friends, every type of social networking account imaginable, and access to a private driver that would take her to any of the approved places my parents had given. So, for her to come bother me means that something just has to be going on in her young teen world that needs the advice of her big sister.

  We get along extremely well, but we have a mutual understanding that given our age difference, our lives will probably go in different directions. I’m proud of the fact that my sister is independent and does not want to live up under my shadow. Still, if she needs me, I will gladly make time for her no matter what. I’ll do anything for Jasmine. I scoot over on the couch to make room for her and her drama. She looks at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes that we both inherited from our mother and inhales as if she’s going to blow out a 60 candle birthday cake. Twenty minutes later, I know all about Justin Bridges and his quest to have sex with my thirteen year old, hottest eighth grader in the city, apparently, sister. Then, I’m definitely the one to take a deep breath. Then another.

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  After about two minutes of silence, soulful deliberation, and thoughts of murder-by-hire, I decide, “How about we go for a ride, get some ice cream, and talk about this away from where mom and dad might hear?” ‘I am not going to be the one trying to keep my father, the government security and arms dealer, from unloading a grenade launcher from an unmarked vehicle and pointing it at a fourteen year old boy,’ I think to myself.

  “Sounds good to me, but you have to promise not to tell your girlfriend about this. She’ll just encourage you to get one of dad’s men to beat him up. Please Rayne, I know that was your first idea,” Jasmine begs me, her bottom lip poking out. I try to look shocked at her request, but we both know that tomorrow I was going to be waiting outside the school with a couple of my dad’s men to pay this Justin a visit. I was only going to scare him a little, geeze. She’s right, Selene would encourage it too. In the six months that we’ve been together, she’s become extremely protective of Jasmine. That is just one thing I love about her, along with her wonderful taste in pumps.

  I put my arm around Jasmine and realize that she has relaxed tremendously after telling me her dilemma. These are the kind of things that sisters do for one another. Besides, if mom knew about this, she’d probably find a way to blame it on me being a lesbian, saying something like, “Your sister is seeing the deviant lifestyle you are living and is trying to have sex in order to compensate for all the ideas you are putting into her mind.” Yep, that sounds about right. Boy, do I love my mom. Yay.

  Jasmine waits for me outside my door as I grab my favorite half jacket, all black with rhinestones on the back and silver accents, and fish my keys out of the drawer. I take a quick glance in the mirror to make sure my make-up is still decent. Once I approve, I tuck one side of my long jet black hair behind my ear and head out. Two divas on an ice cream date. As we hop inside my white Aston Martin, I patiently wait until Jasmine is all buckled in before starting the car. Safety first.

  “Where do you wanna go, Ms. Lady?” I ask, slowly turning up the volume on my music, then quickly changing the song when “Freek‘n You” by Jodeci starts to play. Great, just great; a sex song is not what we need right now. Jasmine, bless her heart pretends not to hear.

  I leisurely pull out of our drive and through the high security gates as Jasmine contemplates, then, finally decides on Bingham’s lake. I smile and nod. Good choice Jazzy. Bingham’s lake is where daddy would take us on boat rides and for fishing whenever we were feeling sad. It has been a long time since it was just the two of us out here alone. There’s a nice view of the water through the trees at this spot where I got my first kiss. I was about the same age as her when I kissed the girl I liked. I’ll take her there to talk things through.

  Thinking back on that time, smiling, I know that I’ve come a long way. I had loved the way her long blonde hair was always in her face. I was always willing to touch it and put it up in a ponytail for her. That day, I pulled her through the trees to the perfect spot and told her in a whisper, even though no one else was around, that I liked her as more than a friend. I had planned my confession for weeks. How forward I was, and before she could even respond, I had closed the gap between us and kissed her on the lips.

  When I opened my eyes and pulled back, she was staring at me blinking, so unsure, yet so, happy that I had done that. I saw it in her eyes, but she still ran away. We never spoke again, but she also never told anyone. Neither had I, as her movie star friends at the time would have probably disowned her. I still remember the sadness I felt waiting for her to return any of my calls.

  Do I know movie stars? About a handful, because with money comes exclusive perks, but none that I’ve ever really bragged about or taken complete advantage of, to my mother’s discontent. I have other plans and they don’t involve simply being successful just because of who I know. I have faith that I’m capable of more than that.

  Sometime in between my trip down memory lane and parking, Jazzy had put on a pair of designer sunglasses and rebrushed her hair back into place. Stealing a quick glance at her, I picture all the boys in her school falling over her, adoring her naturally athletic build, small waist, and beautiful smile, much prettier than mine, as she was blessed with naturally straight teeth and I had needed invisalign. When she gets to high school next year, daddy will have to buy her a taser to keep in her purse.

  Daddy is a tall, about 6’2”, caramel skinned man with a big grin, short, curly hair, and full lips; mom is white with those astonishing hazel eyes, long brunette hair, athletic shape, and beautiful dimples. Somehow, Jasmine got the very best of both of them. She’s on track to be on the World’s Most Beautiful People list before she even makes it out of her teens and I’m not exaggerating. My little sister is as friendly as she is beautiful, and that, these days is truly rare.

  She and I look a lot alike, but where she has dimples, I have none. Her lips are less full than mine and as I said before, her smile, better. I have more of my father’s nose and hers is slightly narrower. Her face is rounder due to her still losing those childlike features and her skin tone is closer to my dad’s. She prefers to wear her hair short and always with some reddish tint to it while I love my long, natural wavy hair. Both of us are beautiful and we know it in our own way.

  Jasmine is still growing into her confidence and I had already found mine when I was her age. Where she hesitates, I never would have. Where she smiles and tells people she’s fine, I tell them point by point why I am not.

  We both get out and I push the remote to lock the car and set the alarm. Then, I start down the trail to the spot by the trees with Jasmine trailing behind, clearly th
inking. The trees arch over us as if hiding us from the rest of the world. The scent of pine cones and tree flowers fill my nose. There’s hardly any wind and the sun is slightly hidden by the clouds as if trying to play peek-a-boo with a baby. The warmth of the day feels good against my face, and I take a deep breath to enjoy the air near the water as I wait for Jasmine to collect her tangle of thoughts.

  Kicking up rocks as we go, she finally finds her courage and asks, “Rayne, did you have sex when you were my age?” Instead of looking back at her I decide to continue walking as I acknowledge the question so that I won’t embarrass her.

  “Well,” I start, close my mouth choosing my next words carefully, then, say honestly, “No. I knew that even though sometimes my body really, really wanted to; I knew that my heart wasn’t ready.”

  “When?” she whispers without saying the rest.

  “I was sixteen, a couple months before I was seventeen and trust me Jazzy, I was scared to death at first because I was still kind of unsure if I was truly ready.” By this time, we reach my favorite spot and take a seat beneath the trees to gaze upon the shimmering water. Geese quacking and fish jumping become our soundtrack for this drama. “I guess maybe, I wasn’t then, huh, but I don’t regret it. It was special to me and I thought I was in love,” I admit.

  I didn’t really think about my first time too much. After I did it, by the time I had had my seventeenth birthday, that love I thought I felt had been erased partly because after my first time, all she wanted to do was have sex with me. No conversations, no dates, just sex. The other part of me simply cared more about my activities I was involved in such as swimming, track, and of course dancing.

  “But what if I want to now?”

  Silence. Even the animals seem to quiet down waiting on my response.

  “Rayne, what if I’m ready? Maybe not in love, but just ready, to know how it feels?” she asks, searching for the words.

  I have to sit here and think, let the words sink in.

  “Baby girl, then all I can say is you’re going to do what you want in the end regardless of what I say here now.” I reach my arm out and pull her closer to me. “But for someone at your age, it’s not going to feel the way it will when you’re older. It can’t. There’s too much inexperience there and if you’re lucky, you’ll get a whole two minutes out of it. Do you really want to waste your first time on two minutes?” There’s really no point in going with the save your body for the right one, love will conquer all speech. She’s too smart for that. I have to be logical. “Besides, there are other ways to deal with that need and if not, just don’t put yourself in those situations.”

  Jasmine picks her head up off of my chest and look at me sideways. Lips turned to the side, she barks out a laugh. “You can’t be serious. Touch myself like an internet perv?”

  I giggle at the comparison. “It’s nothing like that and nothing wrong with it either. Many people do it and hell, I do it sometimes.”

  She stays quiet for a second then answers, “Maybe I’ll try it, but what if I still want to do it with Justin? What if I can’t trust myself?”

  “You are going to still want to do it, but it’ll help those urges. You’re human, you’re hormonal,” I shrug. “The thing is to recognize situations that may put you at a greater risk to make a mistake and then to not make those decisions to be in those situations.”

  We continue to talk for another hour or so about her life as well as mine. By the time I buy us ice cream, I really feel good about myself. I have to make more dates to spend time with her because if I don’t, someone will take advantage of her beauty and hormonal teenage lust.

  Chapter Two

  By 9:00p.m., I’m changing into my swimsuit getting ready for my nightly swim workout before my daddy comes home to practice a bit of martial arts with me. I had never really learned them growing up and that was something that he regretted not teaching me. I had always felt I was too girly for martial arts and wanted to dance instead. At the time, we compromised by me getting into the water. Now, he wonders why he even compromised with a four year old in the first place. My dad, he could hold his own among businessmen and even the president, but up against me, there had never been any contest.

  My routine is to do three miles at the very least, and depending on my stress level, I sometimes do more. I always make sure one of the staff is on-site just in case something happens. That was a promise I made to my mom, knowing full well if I didn’t keep it, she’d drain the pool in a heartbeat. No, my mom and I do not see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I never doubt her love for me or her need for my safety. We just live in two separate worlds and in hers, appearances are everything.

  I can care less what people think about me. It has never kept me from having friends and even when I came out at school my sophomore year; no one ever treated me differently, at least, not that I can remember. Hell, I think I made more friends when I came out. I certainly had more date offers from girls and even guys. I do know that not everyone is as lucky in that regard as I am, so I don’t take it for granted either.

  I think one of the biggest fears my mother has is that I’m going to start dressing and acting differently, which has not been the case. All she clings to is her gay stereotypes. I’m a femme who loves my femmes and I don’t see that changing. Mom has always said that she wants what’s best for me, but by her actions, she only wants what’s best for her and her image. I’m nineteen years old and I want to mold that image for myself, not through her eyes. Until she understands that, we can’t be close anymore. Besides, I’m getting ready to travel abroad for three months before I come back and go to school. I’m sure the gap between us will be even wider if our issues don’t get resolved soon.

  I dip my toe in the water like I’d seen in movies. It is my ritual. Then, I dive in. The water is room temperature and it feels amazing. Daddy had this room built just for me with the ceiling painted with all my favorite constellations. I love to lie on my back and simply look at my faux stars. I’m not a brat, though. We all have our own special spaces in the house. Jasmine has her own art studio and we both share a love for dance so we have space for that too. We have a big house; understatement of the year, maybe. I float there a few more minutes, thankful for the blessings we were given and vowing to have my dad build me a house similar to this one, customized for all my needs. Spoiled, not a brat.

  The work has been put in and it’s time for me to exit the pool. Muscles pleasantly sore, I nod to my staff, David. He turns off the wave machine and points to where he has a towel and bottle of water waiting for me. After I wrap the towel around myself, down the water and start to head to my shower, I stop and turn before David shut the lights off. David has been on staff for about two years now and I only remember having about a handful of conversations with him. He’s average looking, average build, and about four years older than me. I wondered how he got so lucky to land a job here.

  “David,” I say.

  He stops what he’s doing immediately and turns. “Yes, Ms. Whitmore?”

  Ew. I hate that. “Rayne. It’s just Rayne.”

  He looks around, unsure. Clearly this is someone who does not like to break the rules and I’m sure it was my mom who instilled the cost of breaking the rules into him. “Um, yes, Rayne?” It comes out awkward and fearful.

  I smile at him. He’s looking as if I am some newly discovered species. It’s pretty amusing. “Do you like to swim?”

  He looks longingly at the pool and sighs. “I love swimming. I used to live in Virginia Beach and went swimming all the time before my parents, divorced,” he bites off the last word with a bitterness that I can’t understand. I leave it alone because it’s not my place to comment on memories that are clearly supposed to be suppressed.

  Instead, I say, “That is a shame to hear, and I’m deeply sorry. If it will make you feel better, I give my permission for you to swim here once a week, but only after I’m done with my laps, okay.”

  I don’t wait for a
n answer, as I turn and walk away while adding, “I will let my mom know that you have my permission, so don’t worry, she won’t bite your head off.”

  “Um, thank you Ms-er… Rayne. I appreciate it,” he stammers behind me.

  “No problem David,” I call back, waving.

  Then, it hits me. Maybe we should have an employee day where they get to enjoy some of the luxuries of our home since they work day in and day out but never get to be on the other side. Even though I’m sure some of them probably sneak every once in a while and help themselves to a massage chair or the home theater room. I’ll run it by daddy later.

  After the shower, I check my phone to see that I have a new text message from the beautiful Selene Marquez. All I can do is smile when I see the pic she sent me of a pillow with the caption: It’s getting a little lonely over here.

  I text her back, As soon as I can baby.

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  I met Selene about a year ago when I was club hopping with a few of my friends. That is one perk of having lots of money; no one cares if you are underage as long as George and his friends are around.

  It didn’t take long at all for me to see her. I looked, then looked again. Then, at her ass. Hey, I liked what I saw. Her hair was dark, a shadow that swung all around her, straight and beautiful. She had a stunning skin tone, I could tell from where I sat. I thought she’d probably loved to be outdoors. Her body, Lord, all I thought about was how she had to walk around naked frequently. With a body like hers, it’d be a crime not to. She moved as if, as if she was music itself. It was mesmerizing. I watched her for a while until she finally noticed me.

  Then, I smiled, made eye contact, and walked away. Now she knew I was there and that was all I needed. By the end of the night, I found her sitting alone by the bar. She looked out of place there, still and peaceful, around all the noise and movement. I walked up to her and asked, “What’s your favorite song?”

  She looked up at me standing next to her and locked eyes with mine. I could smell her perfume as I leaned in close to hear. She smelled wonderful, earthy, like cinnamon and vanilla. “Why?” She asked, not too interested, but curious just the same. I looked into her eyes and discovered that they were forest green and all I wanted to do was keep gazing.