Emmy

It's all about posture. My friend Shannon enthusiastically explained to me. Confidence and posture. From the outskirts of the grand ballroom, I slip into the shadows, trembling in my sharp black stilettos. There, I recall the rest of her words and make the needed adjustments.

Shoulders back. Head up. Work the core. Now Slay.

I break out into the honey glow room, right as I feel the music shift and vibrate beneath my feet. I know that no one else feels it like I do. They don't notice the subtle change in the floor like me. They don't have to. They hear the music change. I feel it. Soft, with a rhythm that flows like delicate waves in the sea.

All around me, people pair up with bodies that long to remove the clothes between them. A few men hesitate as I glide by. I have their attention, but they don't have mine. I'm looking for one man. One opportunity. And One set of deep blue eyes.
I've been dreaming of these eyes. Yearning for the warmth and the promise they held. In the moment I saw them I found my sanctuary. A shelter from all the pain I'd experienced in life. In the middle of the floor I meet them faster than I intend.

My entire body halts in the long royal purple dress flowing from my curves. He rakes his gaze up and down my frame, ignoring the woman whispering in his ear. I can feel him beckoning me forward. The intensity of his stare boils my nerves to the surface. My heart tries to burst through the tight bodice of the gown. But I hold it together.

This has to look like it happened by chance. If I am caught, no one can suspect that I sought him out. Calmly, I pick up the side of my dress and offer him an innocent smile. He sets his crystal liqueur glass on a passing server tray, with little regard for whether or not it makes it there. Then, he starts moving toward me. I lower my gaze and make him chase me deeper into the crowd.

Bodies enchantingly sway all around us. Fear blooms in my chest. I glance over my shoulder praying that he is indeed following me. His face is there eager and determined. I nearly stop. I get so caught up in his eyes that I forget how handsome he is. A tall Grecian statue that the Lord breathed life into. And he is there reaching out for my arm to catch me, like I'm his Athena. A blush warms my cheeks and I quicken my pace.

But I'm not fast enough. We near the rim just when his large hand claps over my forearm. I turn to him. He pulls me forward so that we touch our bodies together on the floor. I study the way his eyes roam my face. Like, I've been trained to do, I look for every nuance in the way his handsome face moves and I read the story his eyes tell, all while trying not to get swept up in their cool blue undertones.

His nose twitches slightly which is an indication that his mouth is about to move. I drop my gaze there.

"It's you," his lips say. "How?"

I take a deep breath, wishing I had words for him. It would be a lot easier. But nothing comes easy for me. Once this is done it's done. No turning back. I pull out a small envelop from my sparkling black clutch and thrust it into his hands.

My fingers brush against his and when they do electricity passes between us. I peer up at him, and I go back in time. To the moment in the library when I first felt him there. God the way he looked at me...the way his eyes alone made me feel. He elicits that terrible feeling in me. Hope. And that's why I'm here because I know who he is now and it giving me hope.

The corner of his mouth twitches and I read the words falling from his lips.

"I'm Ben."

I smile. I've been imagining what his lips will look like he says his name. With the image in my mind I turn to leave. He captures me gently by the crook of my elbow and pulls me back.

"Wait," he pleads. "You keep looking at my lips. You're deaf right?"

I nod. He tucks the envelop into his breast pocket and fumbles with his hands. My heart gives a twist in my chest as I watch him try to switch to ASL. His hands move slow and hesitantly. The equivalent to anyone first trying to learn a new language.

"Tell me your name."

I want to tell him more than my name. But there just simply isn't enough time. I nod to the envelop. All the answers to his questions are there. Once he reads it, my life will be in his hands and if he just wants to, he can free me from my hell. He can save me.
I reach out for him and walk my fingers down the length of his long forearm. Beneath his heavy stare I take his hand in mine. With my index finger I press four letters into the center of his palm. Then I sign it.

"Emmy"

"Emmy," he breathes my name. "You have no idea, what not knowing it has done to me these past few months."

I blush and my eyes go downcast for a moment. Ben grips my chin softly and draws me forward. He's so close now that his warm breath fans over my lips.

"Emmy,"

I watch my name one more time before taking a chance and pushing my mouth the rest of the way to his.

We kiss softly at first, finding a rhythm unique to us. I feel him slide his arm around my waist and I melt into him. The metal bolts that I securely placed around the cage of my heart, shake and yield slightly. I stifle my moan as they rattle.

Danger.

They say that the loss of one sense heightens the others. Long before the chills seep down my spine, and before my body goes rigid. I know. Danger.

From the corner of my eye, I see Dwayne, my bodyguard feverishly scanning the room. The agitated tilt of his head says a lot. He's pissed that I managed to slip away from him and he intends on making me pay for it. That is if, my uncle doesn't get to me first.

Ben's curious gaze watches me intently. He has no idea how much I wish he wasn't who he was and that I wasn't me. I would give anything to be anyone else for him. Would he do it for me? Or have I been living in a fantasy all these months?

Danger

I pull away as my internal alarm signals to me even louder than before. I have to get out of here and I have to get away from Ben. I meet his eyes apologetically, tapping my fingernail to the envelop. To my right Marco, my other bodyguard is closing in. On my left is Dwayne. They haven't seen me yet. If they had, Ben would be beaten into a bloody pulp by now.

There is so much to say but no more time. So, I place my right hand flat over the center of my chest and move it in a clockwise motion. Please.
He stares on as I place my palm on over his beating heart remind him of the envelop in his breast pocket.

Remembering, he reaches for it. His head drops in his search. I disappear back into the crowd just as Dwayne reaches the spot I was standing in seconds ago.

Ben

(Three Months ago)

Seventy-eight hours. My alarm vibrates the smartwatch on my wrist and I shut my laptop down. Correction Seventy-nine hours. A seventy-nine hour work week. It's ridiculous but that's my life. I am the best criminal defense attorney in New York. That fact comes with a long list of benefits and even longer list of frustrating tasks.

"So, are we done here?" My business partner, Owen yawns.

I nod, checking my phone for an onslaught of notifications that my assistant Leia, has just added to my calendar. I peer over at her and she chuckles.

"Not my fault, you overbook."

"Both of you get out of here before they lock us in." I joke half-heartedly.
We've had to temporarily move out our Manhattan law firm during it's renovation. Owen wanted to hunker down in a hotel room, but I opted for renting out one of the private conference rooms, in the New York Library. It's costing an arm and a leg but it's worth it to me.

I've been coming to this library since I was eight years old. My nanny brought me here hoping I'd gain a better world perspective than the one my father provided. She wanted me and my brother to value other things than the weight our wealthy name carried.

For Alec, my older brother, the library was a boring place. For me, it was a gateway to worlds my father had no control of. Naturally, I fell in love with it right away.

"Any plans this weekend?" Owen asks, tucking his folders into his briefcase.
I shrug. "Depends on how this case ends tomorrow."

"What are you talking about?" he raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "This is a sure thing."

"Nothing is a sure thing." I tell him straightforwardly. "Nothing."
Leia tucks two pencils in her dark brown hair and gives me a reassuring smile. "We know that, Ben. I think Owen is just being optimistic."

I touch her small shoulder and give it a squeeze. Optimism. You don't win trials on it. I have a young man facing life in prison for a crime he couldn't have committed if he were Houdini himself. On the other side of that coin, is a dead young woman, a family stricken with grief and an overzealous prosecutor up for re-election. Optimism isn't going to save this man from a wrongful conviction. The evidence I've presented, the way I've ripped through every supposed key witness and a closing argument that will force them to decide based on the facts of the case instead of emotion.

"Go home. I'll see you both bright and early on Monday."

They both exchange looks that I purposely ignore as I put away my things

.
"When this trial is over", Owen says giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You need to take some time off. This shit weighs on you man and it shouldn't."

My partner means well. And a part of me knows that he is right. Every case weighs on me. Every trial and verdict keeps me up at night. It's not just because I like to win. But more importantly I like to see innocent men walk free.

Leia snakes her arm around Owen's and I pretend to not notice that too. Although I've known for months about their relationship, they still haven't openly admitted it to me. I don't blame them. I have a strict policy. You shouldn't mix business with pleasure. It's like willingly walking into minefield with your heart in your hand.

I decide to linger in the library for a bit as I pound down the marble stairs. There is still a half hour left before close. The three-week trial has taken it's toll on me and before I head home I need to have a clear head. If I don't, bad things could happen.
Know your triggers. I tell myself, thinking of the weighted medallion in my breast pocket. Stress is a big one. I've worked the last year to not go down a path that ends with a drink in my hand. And I continue to work on it as I make a detour toward the author exhibitions.

When I turn into the gallery, there is a woman pouring over photographs of Maya Angelou. She seems engrossed in the images as waves of her dark curly hair fall down the curve of her caramel creme shoulders. I can't see her face, but something moves me closer. Although I don't make a sound, she senses my presence and I stop as her gaze meets mine.

You go through life faced with many warnings. Money doesn't buy happiness. Drugs will kill you and don't talk to strangers. No one ever says what the right pair of eyes will do to you. How they'll grip your soul and make you pray to never set it free. Sugar brown, intelligent eyes, set in a soft diamond shape face. I'll never forget them.

When I regain the ability to speak a big burly man steps into view. Without so much as glance around the room he pulls her by the arm and practically drags her out. I jump off my toes like a well-trained sprinter, shouting after them.

"Hey!" I shout.

My heart hammers against my chest as I try to follow them. But before I can turn the corner, I feel a heavy hand slapping me against my back.

"There you are, Ben." Owen laughs.

"Leia didn't feel right leaving you alone and sent me back in to take out you for dinner."

Shaking his arm off I reply firmly. "I'm not hungry."

"Well humor me man, she's worried about you."

"I'm fine."

I beat down the marble stairs onto the first floor searching frantically for her. But she's like a ghost. There isn't a trace of her anywhere.

"Man, what's gotten into you." Owen huffs, clutching his chest. "You're running around the damn place like a mad man."
"The girl."
"What girl?"
"She was there--with me...a-at the Maya Angelou exhibition."
"Benedict."
Owen uses my full name unless he's going to tell me something I don't want to hear. And in those times, he's all business.
"There wasn't anyone else there. Just you."
Fuck. I run my hands over my face. Had I imagined her? Was this trial really taking this hard of a toll on me.

Present

Three months ago, I thought I just needed sleep. I thought I had lost my mind. I went back to the library for a month to find her and came up empty handed. And then tonight, she strolled out onto the ballroom floor, wearing a gown that hugged her shape and made her look like a goddess. I went after her like a moth to a flame. I touched her and she is real. A dream turned into a reality.

Emmy. I can still feel her finger pressing the letters of her name into my palm. I tuck the envelope into my breast pocket, and slip by the same burly man, I'd seen with her at the library. Then I commit a party foul and leave the elegant affair early, with the hope that this envelope will lead me to Emmy again.