Running From Destiny

  Running From Destiny

  By

  Christa Lynn

  Running from Destiny

  By

  Christa Lynn

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Christa Lynn

  Running from Destiny

  Copyright © 2013 by Christa Lynn

  Acknowledgements

  I want to thank my BETA readers, J. Franco, and S. Gale for reading and providing feedback, you ladies are the best!

  I would also like to thank my husband and son for putting up with me while I drown in story changes and editing. I know I’ve neglected my duties as a mom and a wife, but I love you both and appreciate you being patient with me.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 1

  “C’mon, you’re going with me.” Heather told me as she packed for her trip to Miami.

  “No, Heather, I’m not. I have to work. I can’t just take time off on a whim like you can. I have bills to pay and a job I need to keep.” I replied with a bit of sarcasm in my voice.

  I am Ally Sanders, and I have no life.

  Well, not an interesting life anyway. I’m overweight, single and broke. I’ve got a decent job as an Administrative Assistant to the CFO of Robertson Industries, but it barely pays my bills. And that’s just the way I like it.

  “C’mon Al, live a little!” Her eyes bored into me.

  “Heather, you are a model slash fashion guru heading into one of the most important times in your career. You’ll be there primping and scooting along that runway having the time of your life. What exactly am I supposed to do while you’re off being beautiful and living your dream? I don’t belong in that world, and you know it.” I sighed.

  “Stupid, that’s what you are, Ally. You’re a gorgeous woman, and I’m totally surprised that a plus sized modeling agency hasn’t gobbled you up.” She glared at me while she said that, I just chuckled under my breath.

  “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say Miss Optimistic.” I said back to her. “I’m not exactly plus size, either H. At least I don’t think I am. Am I?”

  “See, that’s your problem Missy Miss, no self-esteem whatsoever. Your glass is always half empty instead of half full. You need to get off your ass, have some fun, forget that bastard Ryan, and move on. He was an idiot and wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a lady. You’re better off without that douche bag.”

  Heather Langley is always so uppity. She’s also anxious, exciting and lives life without regrets. I envy her, because I’m the exact opposite. Maybe that’s why we’re such good friends. She has no problems calling me to the carpet.

  She’s tall and thin, probably five foot six and built like a brick shit house, whatever that means. Tan, sleek and a natural blonde. I know, because she could care less who sees her naked.

  I, on the other hand, am five foot three and a size fourteen with big boobs and a matching big butt. No figure whatsoever. Heather is an hourglass. I’m just a glass, a plain ole water glass. But I am happy with who I am. Most of the time anyway, or at least I thought I was. The only thing I’ve got going for me are my eyes, a light blue with golden flecks scattered about.

  I’ve got shoulder length straight brown hair which is all one length and quite plain compared to her long blonde locks that settle at the small of her back. Damn, we really are the polar opposite of each other. But we have been friends since high school, when Michael Jameson purposely slammed into me in the math hall, just so I’d drop my books and look like an idiot.

  She came to my rescue, cussing at the stupid jock that thought he owned the school. The whole football team thought they were God’s gift to women when, in fact, they were all assholes. But, the majority of the cheerleading squad swooned and giggled whenever they were around. Heather helped me pick up my books and papers that had spread over the entire hall way.

  She then proceeded to ask me to join her and the other cheerleaders at their table during lunch. I was flattered, but in way over my head. I thanked her for her help and then politely declined lunch knowing how awkward that would have been. But she insisted and defended me to all the other giggly, whiny cheerleaders. It turned out to be the best day of my life, so far anyway.

  We ended up at the University of Georgia together and our friendship continued to bloom through exams, bad boyfriends and crappy one night stands. We were both there for each other when we needed it the most, which was often.

  “C’mon girl, you have never taken a vacation. Your boss is a gem, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you taking a long weekend to hit the baddest city in the world. Take a chance, Al. Live a little would ya?” Heather begged.

  I glared at her with steely eyes. I’m good at that. She flinched, but smiled when I finally agreed. “Fine, what should I pack?” I responded on a huff.

  “Well, for starters, you will packnothing that is in your closet. You wear frumpy suits and long skirts that cover all of your assets.” She said while peering at my ass. “So, we’re going shopping.”

  “No no, H, I can’t afford to go shopping. I am already struggling to pay my credit card bill off from that damn washing machine I had to buy last month when it flooded the laundry room.” I was determined to win this argument, even though the look on Heather’s face said otherwise.

  “Fuck that, come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door.

  The next thing I know we’re at the Mall of Georgia. I called my boss and told him I was taking some much needed R&R and would see him on Monday. Surprisingly enough, he was all for it. “Enjoy, Ally. You deserve it. Have fun, be safe and I’ll see you on Monday.”

  Being an administrative assistant, my boss was on speed dial so he could be reached at any given moment. Which was great, but I too was on his speed dial, meaning he could call me at any given time, at any given hour. I didn’t mind it usually. As I said before, I have no life. I had no idea how my life was about to change.

  We shopped until we dropped. Dillards, Nordstrom and every little boutique store in between. I may be short and round, but Heather has this fashion sense about her that had me wrapped me in clothing I would have never bought for myself. I have to admit, I looked and felt good. I guess her Fashion Design degree is paying off for her.

  Skinny jeans, cute ruffled tops, shorts and the most amazing cocktail dress. “What do I need this for, Heather? I’ll be in the hotel the whole time you are out strutting your stuff.”

  “Oh hell no you won’t, you’re going to be sitting at the bar with me, in that HOT little number and those black strappy sandals that you have right there.” She pointed at the Nordstrom bag in my hand, “And you’re going to have a good time. Maybe even get laid.” She gleamed, so sure of herself.

  “Ha!! Laid? Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed. “I am not getting laid, no way, no how. End of story.” I glared back at her.

  “Humph, we’ll see about that.” She smiled coyly back at me.

  After a quick bite to eat in the food court, we headed home. My apartment is across the street from the mall, but since traffic is so heavy in the evenings, we drove her little Prius and it still takes us 15 minutes. We could
have walked in that time.

  Chapter 2

  As we pulled our rolling carry-on bags through the Economy parking lot at Atlanta-Hartsfield Jackson International Airport the following morning, I started having second thoughts. “Why exactly am I going with you on this little business trip of yours?” I huffed out to Heather as we crossed the drop off lane and zigzagged through the smokers and others waiting on a taxi or their rides.

  She stopped and glared at me, “To have fun, that’s why.” She spouted back at me, then continued on toward the automatic doors to the South terminal.

  We made our way to the Delta Airlines self-check in kiosks and printed our boarding passes, then wound our way toward the security check point, which seemed to be 10 miles long. “Thankfully we got here early, this may take a while.” Heather said as she spied the long line.

  The line is filled with men in business suits carrying briefcases and tote bags, mothers with babies in strollers, rock star looking people, and us. We approach the podium with ID in hand and are easily admitted through to the x-ray machine. We load our purses, bags and take our shoes off, each of us filling 2 of those grey rubber trays with our stuff before we head through the metal detector.

  Once we get our shoes back on, our watches securely fastened to our wrists and our bags off the belt, we head down the long escalator toward the train and filed in with the crowd that was already there waiting. By the time the train stopped at C Concourse, we were pushing the boarding call. We practically ran down the terminal to Gate 4, where our flight to Miami was already boarding.

  “Whew, I thought when we got here we had plenty of time, but I guess everyone in Atlanta is flying out this weekend.” Heather told me as she handed her boarding pass to the attendant.

  We make our way through the narrow aisle of the plane, envying the high class folks at the front, locate our seats and stow our bags in the overhead compartment. The flight’s full, but we have the row of three seats to ourselves.

  “So,” I looked at Heather, “Tell me about this fashion show this weekend.”

  “It’s for charity, and each department chose two models to work the runway. Since I have experience, I was chosen along with Amanda, who also has modeling experience.” Amanda had been on the cover of several high fashion magazines in her younger days, but at a graceful 40 years old now, she had the job of locating fresh new talent and stayed behind the scenes.

  “This’ll be her first runway exposure in 10 years.” Heather smiled.

  “Sounds fun, I’m looking forward to seeing you in action, my friend.”

  After the 2 hour flight lands at Miami International, we head toward the MIA Mover, which transports folks like us to rental car heaven. After showing our ID’s to the Enterprise clerk, we signed the contract and took the keys.

  The drive to the hotel was short, only about 25 minutes, thankfully. We pulled up to the Loews Miami Beach hotel on Collins Avenue. As we pulled up to the entrance, my jaw dropped. We round a palm tree lined, curved drive and park in front of the columned entrance. The valet service takes our keys as the other attendant pulls our luggage out of the trunk of the small Toyota we rented at the airport. But I just stood there looking up toward the sky, totally amazed at my surroundings. We make our way to the concierge table to check in and are handed key cards to one of the Rotunda Junior Suites.

  Since I was a last minute addition, Heather and I will be sharing the room, which is fine with me.

  We make our way to our floor and enter a spacious suite, colored in blacks, golds and greens. The king size bed is raised on a platform, trimmed in gold silk or something much more expensive than I have ever had. I gasp as we peer out of the window overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Wow!” I say, not being able to think of any other words that would describe what I was feeling. “This is amazing”.

  Heather replied, “Yeah, Stanton Designs really knows how to take care of their employees, that’s for sure.” She sighed. “This really is the life. Maybe one day I can live this life all of the time.” She continued.

  Heather loves money. And men with money. Some people have called her a “gold digger” and most guys eventually catch on, which is why she’s still single. “Maybe if you stop trying to finagle your way into a billionaire’s heart through his penis, you might get lucky.” I jab at her arm.

  “Yeah, maybe.” She shrugged. “The fashion show is downstairs in one of the large meeting rooms. I’m supposed to meet Amanda there at five o’clock.” She checked her watch “it’s four thirty now, so I am going to go freshen up and head down. Wanna come?” She asked.

  “No, I’m a bit tired, so I am just going to hang out here for a bit. What time do the festivities begin?” I asked.

  “Seven o’clock is dinner at Sushi Sobe downstairs, then the show is at nine o’clock, and party in the Hemisphere Lounge is after the show.” She read off of the paperwork she had pulled out of her bag. “That, my friend, is where we find your knight in shining armor.” She grinned at me like a Cheshire Cat.

  “Really H? I told you, not interested in getting laid.”

  “Oh Al, come on. Really? I know about your fantasy of meeting Mr. Alpha Male and him turning your world upside down.” Heather prodded. “I’ve seen those books you read; all hot and nasty with multiple orgasms and all night sex, fancy and expensive gifts, and cars and all that jazz. I know what you want.”

  “Geez, H.That is why they call them “fantasies”. That means they don’t happen in real life. Plus, no rich alpha male would even give me the time of day, even if they do exist. You, on the other hand, fall right up their alley.” I argued back to her. “And I could care less about multiple orgasms, just one that isn’t self-inflicted would be nice.”

  “Maybe so, but tonight they’ll be up Ally’s alley, buwahh!” Heather punches my shoulder as she grabs her makeup bag and headed to the bathroom.

  None of the men I had dated in the past had a clue. They thought they were all macho and sex dripped, when in fact they couldn’t find their way around a woman’s body with a road map.

  Here I was at 28 years old, missing out on what every other woman I know raves about. The BIG O! I know, I guess if I made a bigger attempt at hooking up, like maybe going out for a night, I might find Mr. Right. But, and I won’t tell Heather this, I would probably be okay with Mr. Right Now. It’s been months, oh wait....a year since I’ve had sex. A Year?? Shit. No wonder BOB has been working overtime. Course, nothing wrong with that, BOB doesn’t want to snuggle afterward, he doesn’t snore, and he doesn’t hog the blanket. I also don’t have to do the walk of shame the next morning, he just goes back into my bedside table and goes away until I’m ready for another round.

  “O.M.G! Ally!! Come check out this bathroom! Squeee!” She squeals from behind the door, jolting me out of my thoughts. I open the door and guffawed. Gleaming teal and gold, large jetted tub and separate shower. Gracious, I’ve never seen this before. Such elegance. This bathroom is almost as big as my bedroom. I shrug my shoulders, believing I am way out of my league in this place.

  But I decided it’s just for a weekend and I plan to enjoy myself.

  Chapter 3

  After dinner and the fashion show, Heather had mingling to do and people to meet. This was her job and getting donations for the silent auction was part of it. The show consisted of one of a kind designer fashions for men and women. Each outfit went up for silent auction with the winner getting the outfit, custom made to their size, making it truly one of a kind. The proceeds go to various charities that help abused and neglected children in Miami-Dade County.

  Heather is dressed in a fitted gold sheath that stops just above her knees with the left shoulder completely covered to her wrist, but the right shoulder is completely bare. The material is a silky organza that shimmers if the light hits it right. Her tan skin and blonde hair emphasizing the golden color and it looks amazing on her figure. She pairs it with sky high nude Christian Louboutin pumps, with the signature red so
ul.

  But my eyes were glued to the stage when Amanda walked out. I could so see myself in the outfit she has on. A slinky, loose fit black ankle length skirt with matching bolero style jacket. It’s feminine and classic. She has on a silver camisole and silver pumps that totally dress it up. I stare at her and the classic elegance of the outfit, and after the show I walk down to the auction tables and find Amanda’s photo at the end of the row.

  Looking at the current bid, I shake my head and turn away. Way out of my price range. This isn’t TJMaxx after all. That’s the only place I can get any type of designer wear without breaking the bank. Yeah, so I wear last year’s fashions, or the year before. Whatever. I do what I can.

  As Heather mingles, I sit at the bar in my new black cocktail dress we bought at Nordstrom, and black strappy sandals with a kitten heal. I refuse to wear anything higher most of the time, because I can’t walk in them and don’t feel like looking like an idiot tonight. I’m self-conscious enough being in the middle of such class, and walking around wobbling or busting my ass isn’t an option. Thankfully, she was so busy with what she had going on, I could just sit here and mind my own business.

  Looking around the room I figured there was more money in here than in Fort Knox. I sigh and turned back to the bar, swirling my Shiraz in the glass. I’m not a big drinker, for good reason, so I nurse the glass and wait for Heather to be done schmoozing so we can move on to the party.

  I slipped my phone out of my small Kate Spade clutch and check my email, I see that I have one from mom just checking in and a bunch of spam. I delete what isn’t wanted and tell myself I’ll reply to mom later. Then I check Facebook. Lord, am I that bored? I’m sitting here at a bar in a swanky Miami hotel surrounded by money and booze and I’m on Facebook. “Geez Al, you really need to get a life.”

  I put my phone away and swivel my bar stool outwards to look around. Men in Armani and Hugo Boss, women in Chanel and Prada. Diamonds and glitter all around while I sit here in my department store dress. Don’t get me wrong, the dress was nice but it isn’t Chanel, that’s for sure. Hell, I don’t even know the brand. It was pretty and under $100. So much for fitting in.