Chasing Imperfection (Chasing 2)

My cell rang again. “Such a busy man you are Blake.”

I glanced at the lovely woman beside me. “Indeed, my sweet.” I kissed her hand and kept it with me.

“Knightly,” I barked, picking up the blasted call that kept me from being with her.

“Alas, if it isn’t the notorious Romeo of the twenty-first century, bloody f**king Knightly finally picking up my call.” Clive Barrington greeted me with derision.

Bugger, calling him back escaped my mind, yet again.

“I assure you, it was purely unmitigated bypass of consciousness, dear cousin. Are you about town? Watson and I are meeting at The Stag.” Clive is three years our senior. So he took the liberty of becoming our teenage mentor, a mentor for all our mischievous devilry and atrocities.

“By all means, I could do with a pint or a dozen. I’ll be on my merry way then my dearest baby cousin.”

“You arse, a baby I’m certainly not. My memory can’t expunge the absurdity of you getting caught exposed and undressed in a nudist party which disgracefully landed you on the front page of scandal rags,” I laughed at his silliness. His scandal along with other socialites hit the National Enquirer with mad uproar and quite the backlash.

“Need we rehash my nefarious string of follies? My noble parents certainly are in dire need of new rubbish to ostracize and castigate. It’s strenuous and I’m going barmy,” Clive grumbled.

“You do sound unbalanced but alas I’m driving, I’ll see you in a bit. We can carry on at The Stag and hear your rather boring life.” Ending the call with a rather more jovial mood than the state I was in before taking both calls. And both came from family mind you.

The aristocratic Barrington’s are similar to the Watson’s but rather a tad bit more rational. Henry and Blanche Barrington most likely shared a coronary attack after the story was exposed.

My second cousin, Clive Barrington, heir to a massive shipping fortune, is known for his notorious fixation to having and living the fast life. The media adores him and he basks in the adoration. But most of all, Clive was famous for sporting two girlfriends at all times. Next to him, I’m a bloody f**king saint.

“Was that your infamous blonde cousin?” my ever silent beloved asked.

We were a minute or two away from her place. “Si cara mia. I’m meeting him for drinks after I drop you off.”

Sienna snorted, “I’m sure both of you go rampant when you’re together. It’s rather uncanny how both of you are playboys and have a thing for threesomes with insipid beauties.” Her derisive sarcasm grated me. My lightened mood vanished instantly from her obvious disdain.

“Right darling, darting daggers at my impropriety…when you—my love—were the one who indulged in an all-nighter shag fest two nights after you had begged for my c**k to f**k you until your were vapidly mindless from orgasms, milady.” I retorted.

She gasped, wide-eyed and appalled by my counter-quip. “Fuck you, Blake! Seriously, you and I have nothing to discuss. Apart from being civilized around our friends and our common goal with Chad, do not ever f**king talk to me. Save your stupid, crappy declaration of love. I don’t need this shit.” She screamed like a banshee, angrily opened the door and stepped out of the car and haughtily marched towards her building.

Bloody f**king Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Sienna is without a doubt the most infuriating, exasperating, unreasonable, and incongruous and the most unpredictable woman this entire planet has ever beheld!

Fine, be it. Blast my incorrigible affections towards her. How many times do I have to be scornfully dismissed and rejected before my thick-headed skull accepts the bare truth—that Sienna will never, ever be mine?

At times, a man has to learn and admit defeat.

16

Sienna

Opening the building door, I quickly turned left and leaned against the cool marble wall. Truth hurts but when spoken out loud, it obliterates you in half.

I should’ve kept my opinions to myself but my ever colorful imagination got the best of me. I was getting used to being friendly with him and my irrational self had to go put a damper on it.

I wanted to meet Kyle before I leave for Marbella but decided against it. Instead, I shot him a text message.

Me: Hi. I’m leaving tomorrow with everyone except for Luce. I’m sorry but I don’t think I can continue being stuck in this odd position I am now. I need to be alone and deal with my feelings with Blake first. I’m sorry Kyle. I didn’t want it to be like this but I don’t have a choice. Take care.

It is better this way, I tried to convince myself.

Since I will head straight to the airport after picking up Chad, I immediately started packing. The plan was for me to stay there for five days to a week, depending on how Chad is doing and how accommodating my teachers are. I promised them that I would at least show up for a class once or twice every two weeks. On top of that, I have to turn in my assignments on time.

I decided to hit the sack at nine p.m. I pressed play on my music player and the sound of Pavane by Pablo Segovia Gardel eased my tension. I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep thinking how surreal; I haven’t listened to baroque guitar music in awhile….and how odd that it was the first thing that popped up….

Robert, Blake’s chauffer, rang exactly at nine in the morning. I was half-dressed and decided to down my lukewarm coffee. I woke up at eight-ish and lounged around in my half awakened state. By the time I hit the shower, it was twenty before nine. I was in panic mode and I didn’t get the chance to put any make-up on. I was dressed in all white with nude Louboutin pumps on. I donned a bright lavender pashmina scarf on to give a splash of color. I left my wet hair down because I didn’t get the chance to properly dry it.

With my aviator shades on, I dragged my luggage out the door. Luce quickly shooed me away and promised she will visit in a couple of days. She looked downright haggard. Love has its ups and downs and she’s obviously in the down department. How I wish she can just forget about what Toby’s parents want and follow her heart.

By the time I reached Chad, he was impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. “Babe—I’m so happy that you’re finally out! You look like my Chad with your painted jeans on and sweater. Good riddance hospital garb.”

“I thought you changed your mind about picking me up or you were still passed out. But seeing how wet your hair is, I’m assuming that you simply lagged and processed everything this morning like you had a virus or something.”