Chapter 8: The First Time

I rushed through the Pit trying to avoid teammates and their conversations. I waved hello from afar, never stopping. Any closer and they'd see right through me. They'd know what I'd done. I needed to get to Hawk to follow-up on the other letter I sent.

On level three I ducked into the women's bathroom. Level three was the domain of men, filled with spare parts and the circuitry that created the Pit's beating heart. It was a pretty safe bet that the women's bathroom on this floor was empty. When I couldn't make it to my room, this was one of the first places I'd head. It rarely disappointed.

Leaning against the cool tile walls, I sunk to the floor in a daze. My hand felt empty without Flint's ring. I never wore it for missions and barely around the base. Flint and I tried to be discrete. It was no secret, still, Flint promised Hawk we'd keep things under wraps as much as we could, and we did. I wore the ring when Flint and I were alone. I know he wanted me to wear it more. He didn't press the issue. I once wore it on a night out with the girls. I figured off-duty wear wasn't going to offend. Scarlett and Cover Girl begged me to leave it at home. They argued it was going to cramp our style. It had the unintended exact opposite effect. Men bought us drinks all night long. We were the queens of the dance floor. Reluctantly, I told Flint. I thought he'd get a little jealous. Nope, he surprised me too. He strutted like a peacock all the next day. He dug the affirmation I suppose. Since I didn't wear it that much I couldn't explain why its absence bothered me now. It wasn't the first time I've given back a ring, merely the second. God please don't let there be a third.

Thaddeus Latham Phillips, III, son of Thaddeus Latham Phillips, Jr., in turn son of Thaddeus Latham Phillips, Sr., was destined for great things. The first boy of six, his birthright was the key to the kingdom. The Phillips rival the Harts in almost everything. Where the Harts donate their money, the Phillips also donate their time. If the Harts roll up their sleeves, the Phillips tear off their shirts. It's a not-always-so-friendly rivalry as old as Boston itself. The families dance around each other, never intermixing. Fate conspired against it.

As the story goes, my great, great aunt Constance was betrothed to Landon William Thompson Phillips when she died of consumption, quite sudden. Her sister Anne then picked up the reins. Anne maintained the forward progress until two weeks before the wedding when a hunter accidentally shot her while she was taking a stroll in the woods near her family's estate. The hunter was distraught, having mistaken the great colorful feathers in Anne's hat for some sort of exotic bird. A fair mistake. The next daughter in line, Dororthy, stepped up to the plate. On her way to the dress shop to pick up Anne's wedding dress, now hers, and with only a day to go before her wedding, a runaway horse struck Dorothy, the horse's hooves ensuring a quick death.

With Dorothy's demise, the Harts were reluctant to promise up another daughter to Mr. Landon Phillips. They soon married off the one remaining daughter, Eliza, to William Bartholomew Holbeck, allegedly descended from the Mayflower Holbecks. Bart, as he was known, put great effort into the marriage. Twenty years Eliza Hart's senior, he no doubt thanked his lucky stars every night he crawled into bed to find her waiting. Family lore states they were happy and the Holbecks have done well in this world.

For a period of time, the Phillips and Harts didn't attempt another match. The ages of eligible children didn't correspond – too old or too young. The Harts married into other prominent East Coast families to appease certain business interests. The Phillips, looking to expand their empire westward, set their sights on the Stetsons and the Winchesters. I personally think the deaths of Constance, Anne, and Dorothy weighed heavily on the family's collective psyche. Lose one girl, a shame; lose three, now that's a tragedy. Families like to avoid tragedies. Enter me.

I was the right Hart at the right time. Thaddeus, or Thad, was four years older than me. Our grandmothers conspired from the day of my birth to match us together. The time was ripe for a Hart-Phillips union. Living under the same roof as Grandmother Hart was a veritable death sentence to any relationship I attempted with a boy not named Thaddeus Phillips. I liked Thad, I just didn't see what all the fuss was about. Jimmy adored Thad and the two were often found up to some sort of mischief. I tried to get in on their games, not always successfully. After Jimmy was gone, Thad was the closest living reminder I had to my lost brother. Thad became my surrogate brother. That being the case, I couldn't see why Grandmother Hart had a conniption every time he spoke to another girl.

One day Grandmother Hart set me down for "the talk." My talk differed from the average talk a parent gave a teenaged daughter. The thought of the birds and the bees brought a blush to Grandmother Hart's cheek. She'd leave that talk for my tutor. Her talk was of the family and my duty to marry Thad. The Harts and the Phillips depended on us to make the families stronger. I think at that point I didn't care what happened to me. Grandmother Hart used me as a pawn in her game. Fine. I was ignorant of the power I held. That came later. Suffice to say, if I had to marry Thad, there were worst things.

Thad was a product of a similar talk and began to pursue me in earnest. During my junior year at Bryn Mawr, Thad flew down to Philadelphia where I met him for a nice dinner. After drinks, we walked around Rittenhouse Square before he proposed, down on one knee. I acted surprised. We kissed and a few strangers took the time to wish us well. Although a picture perfect proposal, it wasn't my proposal, not the way I wanted. There was a sense of the author's hand in it. The proposal wasn't the natural progression of the story, it was forced. Thad appeared happy. If Thad was happy, so was I. I could marry him for Jimmy. Jimmy would be happy.

That night Thad checked us into the Ritz. I know, scandalous. But back then it was a saucy move on my part. While the heir to the Ocean Spray fortune cavorted up and down the coast, I stuck close to home. Little did the world know I was a virgin. Grandmother Hart was right about one thing. She said sex gave a person power – over you. Enough people controlled my life. I felt powerless as it was. I wasn't going to compound the situation. Once I became Thad's fiancé, I assumed he'd want that, as was his right. Perhaps sex would instill those feelings I didn't have.

Our make-out session moved from the balcony, to the living room, to the bedroom. My mind wandered all over the map. I thought of reports to research and what my roommate might say if she knew what I was doing right that minute. She'd demand all the details. What I couldn't make myself do was fall for Thad in that way. Who wouldn't want Thad? He was handsome and charming. A bit staid and safe. A life would Thad would be comfortable, just not very exciting. Thad planned his day down to 15 minute intervals. I'd always be on time. At least I'd have that going for me.

Once we made it to the bed and he undid the buttons on the back of my dress, I peeked. Up until that moment, when we kissed, I kept my eyes closed trying to maintain the mystery. I jumped because Thad opened his eyes too. Our faces were so close together that his eyes blurred until he was a mythological creature gazing at me with one eye. That one eye was curious, not aroused. When I kissed the love of my life, I wanted that person invested in me, not looking at me with a fascinated detachment. I wanted us to be all in.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. A headache brewed beneath. It wasn't there. The one thing everyone else wanted, wasn't there. Still, maybe I read him wrong. If he wanted this, a passionless life was worth it to avoid Grandmother Hart's wrath. I looked back at Thad, willing him to do something, say anything, give me a sign.

"Alison, listen, I . . ." He bit his lip, twisting his hands together, his words trailing off into the air.

"Thad, it's ok." Answer given. He wasn't feeling it either. "I'm, well . . . it's . . . it's not there."

Relief washed over his face and he grasped my hands in his. "How do we get out of this one?"

I tried to think what Jimmy would do. He'd say something smart, diffuse the tension, and the whole world would laugh. I didn't have that ability, neither did Thad.

Thad lay back on the bed, hands folded over his stomach. "I keep trying to think what Jimmy would do."

I lay back and joined Thad in his deliberations. "Well, I think the first thing he'd do is pop you one for touching his sister."

"Heh, yeah, you're right on that. Then he'd say something clever and I'd forget he'd even hit me."

"And I'd run to Mary, crying about the whole thing."

I glanced at Thad. He smiled at the mention of Mary, my best friend from Boston. We all spent our summers together. Thad kept a picture of the three of us on his dresser back at his apartment. I kind of expected that she'd be here helping out with the proposal. She pitied us and our arranged marriage as she called it. She joked a lot about Thad and my relationship. A little too much at times. It hit me. There was someone Thad loved, someone he would kiss with his eyes closed. Mary could live in Thad's structured world and be happy. I knew what I did next put me on Grandmother Hart's hit list forever. I turned to Thad. "It's Mary. Go on, go be with her. I don't mind." I twisted the ring off my finger and handed it back. "Give this to her."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Thad hightailed it out of there. I stayed. He paid for the room for the whole weekend. I couldn't let it go to waste. I got some of the best sleep of my life those two nights. The bed was a cloud and the windows had those super-darkening curtains. I ordered room service for every meal and had a massage in the room. Thad paid the bill.

That summer Thad and Mary, well, married. I stood at the front of the church looking like a plumped flamingo covered head to toe in magenta silk and tulle. No one said people had taste back then. Mary was resplendent in her Gone With the Wind poufy white lace dress embroidered with a million sparkling crystals. She hadn't stopped crying since her father walked her down the aisle to the tinny church organ rattling through Canon in D. I stole a glance at Thad. His eyes focused solely on Mary. His body leaned toward her as though drawn by an invisible force. During the ceremony I caught his eye once. Thank you he mouthed. I winked back. Screw you Grandmother Hart.

But Katherine Hart had choice words for me at the reception. "You threw your chance away. Imbecile."

"Don't hold your feelings in grandmother; it's not good for your health." I said.

"Don't get snippy with me. You know exactly what you did."

"I do." My gaze wandered around the room, settling on the happy couple stumbling about the dance floor, no Fred and Ginger. "I watched my two dearest friends get married."

"And you squandered your chances."

"You mean I squandered your chances. Now Violet's granddaughter reined in the Phillips fortune. So sad for you."

Katherine met me head-on, her eyes locked on mine, never wavering. It was on.

Game.

"Your parents would be so disappointed in how you've turned out. Who's going to want to be with you? Night at the Ritz? Damaged goods they'll all say." With a upstretched eyebrow, Katherine's mouth raised at the corners in a thin line of satisfaction.

Set.

"It should have been you, not Jimmy."

And match.

Grandmother Hart knew how to cut to the chase. I curled up my fists, freshly manicured nails begging to be unleashed. Oh how I longed to draw them straight across her face, little red lines cutting through her perfect make-up.

Katherine let out a sigh of boredom. "This gets too easy my dear. Just see that you don't embarrass yourself the rest of the evening."

As she paraded away, head held aloft, I stewed. "Ugh!" I punched a fist against my side, wishing it was something else. I jumped as a hand rested on my shoulder.

"Listen little Ali, don't let Cruella get to you. So you didn't marry your cousin, big deal."

I elbowed William, my favorite cousin and the one closest in age to me. He was also the closest looking. If you could imagine me as a 6-foot male with way less chest action and more shoulder, straighter hair and nose, and an Adam's apple, you'd have William. "Eww, gross. He's not my cousin."

"No, you're right. Our man over there looks like he could be our uncle." William jabbed his thumb toward Thad. "You kissed that right? You completely kissed your uncle."

"William!"

"Ali, look at him. He's a splitting image of us right down to this funky thing we've all got going on with our hair." William flicked the one section of hair in the back of my head that never curled the right way. "The way the Harts and the Phillips have been getting it on the side, dude could be our uncle. I bet old man Hart sired that boy. Thad's more a Hart then he'll ever know."

I shrugged. He had a point. Rumors swirled around about Grandfather's transgressions.

"Your kids would have been born with three eyes and webbed feet." William grabbed my hand. "Come on, next dance's on me."

"What about Martha?"

He rolled his eyes while tipping back a few imaginary drinks. "She's a dud. You're way more fun. Let's give Grandmother something to really talk about." He pulled me out onto the dance floor, leading us into the soft, flowing waltz. As we matched the pace of the music, I watched his eyes scan the crowd for grandmother. As much as she despised me, I suspect she treated him worse. At least she acknowledged my presence. To Grandmother Hart, William was an inconvenience at best. The opposite of love is supposed to be hate, but I don't think so. The true opposite is indifference. She felt nothing for him. At least I knew she hated me.

He spun me at the corner and we continued the pace. "Let's face it coz, for whatever reason, we're the rejects. She may decide that the best thing to do is tie up loose ends and rejoin the family branches. F- this uniting the clans shit. Hart and Phillips? No way. Hart and Hart is more her style." William held my hands up, puckering his mouth in an imitation of Katherine. "Let's make the clan stronger from within. The uniting of Alison and William may actually produce a decent Hart." He laughed. "For me, there are worst fates. But you Ali, you're more."

"William, don't say that."

"Nah, it's true. I know where I'm headed. If the women don't get to me, the drinking certainly will." He tried to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It was something. I was always so focused on my hurt that I failed to notice his. His pain was on full view in his eyes. Usually they crinkled with laughter and life. One never thought of William as anything but the comedic relief. He was his father and yet he wasn't. He was more. He was a person deserving of a chance. How horrible to be boxed in and your life decided. I knew how he felt.

"William." I reached up, cradling his chin in my hand. "Screw her. You are so much more. Screw them all if they can't see it." I paused, stumbling over my next thoughts. "And . . ." Just out with it already. "Screw Martha. You can do so much better. Don't tie yourself to her because you think you have to. You deserve a wonderful girl who loves you for you and not because you'll make her a Hart. Don't settle. I, I never liked her."

William stopped our dance, looking down at me in stunned silence. Damn, double damn. I went too far on that last one. I couldn't stop myself. It was all true. Martha didn't care about William and William was too broken to care about that. I pulled my hand away and covered my mouth, cringing inside. The other dancers continued around us, oblivious.

"Oh god William. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I . . . I mean, I did . . . no . . . I . . ."

The music reached its peak and the women floated to the sides of the men, curtsying in the old-fashioned way. The dancers faded into the background. It was just William and I standing there. His hand was still placed upon my waist, ready to lead me around the wooden floor. I bit at my lip, I stepped where I shouldn't. His hand remained though. He didn't pull away. "William, I–"

"Alison, shut up." He shook his head once, silencing my incoherent apology. "Thank you." A big grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkled with happiness, and more. He blinked a few times. He wouldn't lose it, not tonight. Tonight William became more.

The band leader called out, "And now something to get you moving." A trumpet pierced the air with the opening melody of "In the Mood."

William held out his hand. "One more for the road?" I reached across the space, allowing his fingers to intertwine with mine. With a wink, he spun me out to the side, twirled me once, and pulled me back, his hand settling easily against my waist, guiding me into the next move. I rested my hand on his shoulder; we always had perfect form. Turning us into the pulsating sea of dancers, William relaxed, buoyed by the music. "Coz, I think we're going to be all right."

And we were for a time. William ditched Martha and I moved out into my own apartment before leaving for grad school. William and his dad, Uncle Robert, made sure I could.

And now I messed it all up again. I stood up and walked over to the sinks, blasting the cold water. Dipping my head under the spray, the water shocked, and then revived me. Time to face Hawk.