Rule of Three Pt. 02

"This is Ben's place?" Angel asked Tara. The mansion was tucked in the hills behind the village that held the bookstore and the café. "How on earth can a barista afford this?"

"His family is pretty well off, real-estate, I think," Tara sounded like she was talking through a dream as she guided Angel through the house. "His dad bought him this place, but Ben still wanted to work on his own. Isn't he just-"

"Stupid." Angel muttered.

"What?"

"Sweet. So sweet," Angel's smile was almost too wide. She was very happy for her friend but the entirety of the situation was altogether unexpected. Almost as unexpected as the new red-bottom pumps that her wholesome redhead was wearing, and consequently struggling to gain control over.

The occasion was beautiful; the party was lame. Tara and Ben were preoccupied being newly-weds, showing off the ring, informing everyone about times and places. The crowd consisted of mostly Ben's family and friends, and they all felt and acted like the country-club types she had assumed they were. It was disappointing when people failed to prove stereotypes wrong. Oh well. She disregarded the judgmental looks she received in her short, white, lacy sun-dress and kitten heels and found herself indulging in the beautiful bottles of stupidly expensive red wine.

Standing on a balcony over-looking the beautiful backyard and halfway through her second glass of something delicious that tasted like chocolate covered cranberries grown in a rose bush is where a Ben-less Tara found her.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so tired of talking to people about the same shit, which one is this?" the little redhead sounded exasperated, but grabbed her friend's glass of red anyway and took a big swig, almost finishing it. Angel raised her eyebrows, amused.

"Ugh, that's good," Tara let out a sigh. Her eyes excitedly popped open and she grabbed Angel's hand.

"You need to meet Ben's friends, I don't know where they came from, but three of them specifically asked us about 'the gorgeous black girl in the white,' c'mon!"

Three? Was the only thought Angel could muster before Tara was dragging her excitedly back inside down one of the long halls lined with artwork. They stopped next to a lithe Asian man wearing almost too many layers. A thick, messy bun of coal black hair sat on the back of his head, and a light goatee dusted his face.

"Jack, this is Angel," Tara introduced her friend, a hint of mischief touched her voice. Who is this girl and what has she done with my Tara?

"Hello," Jack said as he held out his hand, Angel caught a spicy whiff of cloves and tobacco. His eyes widened when they met hers. There was a moment where no one said anything. Tara broke the silence.

"Jack's a musician, I know you love music, so you two should have tons to talk about."

"It's mostly jazz stuff," Jack said shoving his hands into the pockets of his black chinos.

"Jazz is kinda my shit," Angel with a smile. Jack brightened up immediately though a hint of nervous giddiness remained in his voice as they continued talking.

"I'll leave you two to it," Tara said. Angel watched her red curls bounce as she walked away.

Jack and Angel talked for a bit about the painting he was staring at, some type of landscape piece. She didn't really understand but she enjoyed how passionate he sounded when he started talking about brush strokes and different types of inspirations, she was almost disappointed when he suggested they go meet his other friend who had known Ben in college.

They walked down the hall, talking about anything and everything that had to do with art. Until they reached a room that had some lavish table of food. A group of party goers stood around in front of the table holding drinks and laughing at something. It was clear who dominated the group and who had probably made them laugh. At six feet, five inches at the very least, and was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Dressed in a navy suit and white button down, he held himself with an air of intensity, as if he was running a business conference. His dark, mocha skin was lighter than Angel's by a few shades, and the way his suit fit made her wonder what it might look like on the floor of her bedroom.

"Isaiah, meet Angel, she's Tara's good friend," Jack made the introduction like he had practiced it about thirty-seven times during their walk down the hall.

Angel held out her hand and Isaiah took it firmly but gently, and looked her straight in the eye as he shook it with an intensity that she felt, but sincerely hoped did not show on her face, though she could feel the heat in her ears.

"It's very nice to finally meet you, Angel," Isaiah said in a deep, rich voice. His hazel eyes locked her in place.

"You too," was all she could muster. Wait, what?

"I'll find you both a bit later," Isaiah said to Jack who smiled. He returned his attention to the group, which had since stopped all conversation to focus on his exchange with her. His magnetism was something she had never experienced before. Jack led her across to the next room, a study walled with bookshelves. A faint, savory flavor hung in the air, like leather and good tobacco. It was her favorite room so far. A sturdy, redheaded man in a red, flannel shirt and an opened dark, grey vest was leaning lazily against one of the climbing ladders with a small leather book in one hand and a glass of whiskey neat in the other that hung by his side.

"And this is Kelly," Jack said, Angel licked her lips, she couldn't help but picture running her hands over his barrel chest as his lips explored her neck, and tickled her pleasantly with his ginger scruff.

"Kelly, this is—"

"Did you know," interrupted the ginger, pleasantly, "that old books smell so delicious because of the organic stuff in their pages that smells like vanilla?" Kelly looked up and regarded them both with ocean-blue eyes. A smirk touched one side of his mouth.

Angel giggled slightly and furrowed her brow. The redhead held her eyes and took a sip from his glass, the muscles in his forearm rippled. Holding the book open and still leaning against the bookcase he smiled.

"Hi, are you Angel?"

"That's me," she smiled back at him.

"Hi Angel I'm Kelly," he paused "you totally already knew that." He scrunched his nose at his own words, the smooth-talking, mysterious lumberjack went from zero-to-goofball in no-seconds-flat. But still, there was an eccentric charm about him.

Before they could get to talking Tara came running in sputtering too fast about how they were about to make the toasts when she tripped over her new heels, emptying the entirety of her glass of red onto the back of Angel's lacy white dress.

"Oh. My. God." Tara stood open mouthed for a deliberate second before she set her empty glass on a side table. Suddenly, Tara was all apologies and more sputtering as she hurried her friend up the stairs to one of the guest bedrooms. Between Tara's apologies and assurances that Ben had compete auxiliary wardrobe for just such incidents, Angel couldn't help but think of the three men she had just met, all within a few minutes of each other. Jack's artsy, modest exuberance, Isaiah's sleek, commanding magnetism, and Kelly's relaxed, comfortable ruggedness. So different, yet so yummy.

Tara had not stopped fussing over her, she had found a towel somewhere and started to dry her off, listing the sizes of the dresses in the closet.

"Hey! Stop," Angel cut her off, maybe a little harshly, but she did not want to her friend to get upset on her account. Tara looked at her, with her bright, sky-blues, mouth still twitching.

"You know I love you. I'll always be here for you. The people downstairs don't know that. Go be with your man, and don't worry about me. I'll handle everything."

Tara blinked and nodded rapidly.

"Go, my little redhead, gimme this though," Angel said pulling at the towel.

Tara smiled, surrendered the towel, and hugged her friend before she left. She was formulating her escape plan when there was a knock on the door.

She opened the door to Jack, Isaiah, and Kelly. Hmmm.

"Can we come in?" Isaiah asked with a bright smile,

"We'd like to talk with you."