by Huss, JA
“Come to dinner.”
I snort this time. “Why? I’m not giving up information that might hurt my friends.”
“I said I’m not here to hurt her. I’m not here to hurt any of your friends. I’m here to help, actually. And Veronica”—he grabs my arm before I can step off the curb and get on the bike—“they need my help.”
It’s not so much the words, but the way he says them that sends a chill up my spine. “Why? What’s going on? I know something’s going on. What’s happening?”
“They don’t tell you?” He still has a hold of my arm, but he drops it and ponders his own question. “You’re not involved at all, are you?”
“No, I have no idea what they do. You’re asking the wrong person. They don’t tell me shit. I’m really not Spencer’s girlfriend.”
And that’s when the real smile comes out. “I’ll follow you back to your condo. Dress for dinner, and I’ll come to your door and pick you up in an hour.”
I say nothing.
But he follows me when I pull out onto College Avenue, and even though I could go home to my dad’s house, Bobby Mansi has me freaked the fuck out. My dad’s big, empty house with no locking doors or windows is the last place I want to be tonight.
Winning the game of life is all about the devil you know. So I’m gonna hang with him. Get all the info I need, and then take this back to Spencer tomorrow. Maybe then he’ll see I’m not some helpless girl who can’t be trusted with secrets.
Chapter Twenty-Two - Spencer
A little while later, after Ryan and them have all gone home, the camera crews are packing shit up in the control room and Ford and Larry are discussing the particulars for tomorrow’s filming. Rook and Ronin come back to the office. She’s been getting the front showroom all squared away while Ronin hoofed it around downtown looking for local businesses that want to get in on the big opening day and supply food and shit.
Rook plops down on the couch. “Kate just woke up from her nap. Ford sent a car to get them, should be here in a few minutes.”
I nod at her and look over at Ronin. He’s peeking through the blinds, looking out at the street. There’s been people hanging out in the parking lot all day. I’m not sure who they’re hoping to get a glimpse of. Me? That’s just weird. More likely they’re looking for Rook. In fact—“Reporters, you think?” I ask Ronin as I stand next to him and peek out.
“Probably,” he mumbles. “Even if they’re not legit, everyone’s got a camera phone. Everyone thinks they’re just one YouTube video away from Grumpy Cat greatness.” He lets go of the blinds and they snap closed again. “You got a plan?” he asks as Ford and Ashleigh come in. Kate is squirming in Ashleigh’s arms and it’s painfully obvious both of them have been crying.
“I do have a plan, and it’s not dangerous at all.”
“Good,” Ford says. “Because I’m not happy that Ash needs to be the bait. Not one bit.”
“Well, her bait days are limited, Ford,” Rook snaps. “She’s gonna be all over the news next week, so relax until we hear what we’re doing.”
Go, Rook.
“OK.” I take over since I’m the planner. “Tonight we’re gonna send Ashleigh out to Drake’s neighborhood. She’s gonna run out of gas and pull into the parking lot. Call a cab and go home.” I look at Ford as I say all this and since he doesn’t stop me, I look over to Ashleigh for acceptance. She gives me the nod. “Tomorrow, just before Drake does his usual dunchtime getaway to the Cat Call, when the whole fucking world is up and about and we’re in plain sight, we’re gonna send Ashleigh back with a gas can. While she’s busy getting the gas in her car, me and the Shrike Bikes boys will take a little run over to Drake’s and start some shit. Our new BFF Scott the townie cop will show up—”
“Wait.” Ronin stops me. “Scott’s on board?”
“Not yet, but he will be. Just let me handle it. So Scott’s gonna come by a few minutes after we arrive, we’re gonna start some shit. Ford will be up on the roof of the building across the parking lot, keeping an eye on Ashleigh and driving the bot out of the bay. Ashleigh will pick it up, stick it in the car, and leave.”
“How’s Ford gonna get on the roof?” Rook asks.
“He’s gonna stay the night up there. Keep an eye on the place tonight. Ronin, you and Rook need to go out in public while this is all going down tomorrow. I think you should go to church. It’s only three blocks from your apartment, so you can walk. And it’s right across the street from the courthouse, so no one is gonna follow you in and bother you. When the shit’s all done, we’ll text you and I’ll have Ryan swing by and pick you up. This also makes Rook look sympathetic for next week’s testimony.”
I pause to gauge reactions. “Questions? Concerns? Comments?”
Everyone looks at each other, but nothing more is said.
“OK, then. Ryan’s got an old piece-of-shit VW that he drives in the winter. That’s what Ash will drive tonight. We can’t afford to fuck up the details, so Ashleigh really will have to run out of gas, coast into the lot, and then wait for a taxi. Ford, we need to siphon out the gas and then you can calculate the exact volume of fuel we need and how far she has to drive on that tank to make it to Drake’s place.”
“The approximate gas mileage for a seventy-four VW Beetle is close to twenty miles per gallon, so she’ll have to coast over there on fumes.”
“Damn, Ford,” Rook says with a smile. “How do you know this shit?”
Jesus Christ. I shake my head at him and shoot him a look.
“I once read the owner’s manual during Right to Read Week at school—”
“Enough, Ford.” Fuck. He shuts up and I continue. “OK, so I think Ashleigh should go home with Ryan so Ford won’t be seen driving her around later. You never know who’s watching.” I wait for Ford’s tantrum. In fact everyone waits for Ford’s tantrum.
But he stays silent and I swear to God, he is so lucky.
“You’re OK with that, Ashleigh? Ryan’s a good guy. He’ll cook you dinner. It’s just for a few hours.”
“What about Kate?” she asks with a frown. “Who’s gonna watch Kate if Ford is up on the roof and I’m busy doing all this stuff?”
I’m just about to open my mouth when Rook blurts out, “I will! I’ll watch her tonight. She can stay at our place.”
“OK, yeah. That’s a good idea,” I say, looking over at Ford for a reaction to this, but he stays silent. Just calmly looking at Rook, who is tickling a now-smiling Kate under the chin. “OK, we’re set.” I get out my phone and text Ryan. A few minutes later he texts back a little picture of a upturned thumb. “Everyone goes their separate ways and we regroup tomorrow out at the farmhouse after the fake throwdown.”
We all stare at each other.
“Don’t we have a goodbye chant? Like, All for one and one for all?” Ash asks with a smirk, apparently at ease with things now that Rook is gonna watch Kate and this plan is stupid simple.
“Yeah, sure we do,” Ronin says. “Ours is, No good deed goes unpunished.”
No one laughs. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a joke.
Ashleigh and Rook leave first, talking about Kate’s needs for the night. And Ronin follows.
Ford arches one brow at me and I shake my head. He follows Ronin out and I’m just about to grab my jacket when my phone buzzes. Carson. I press his face. “Yeah.”
“First of all,” he says, gasping out each word and totally out of breath, “this is not my fault.”
I get a sinking feeling in my gut. “What’s not your fault?”
“I mean,” he says, ignoring my question, “I ran after her, OK? I ran all the way down Mason from Sick Boyz, to her condo. Left my fucking car and everything, because I wasn’t sure where she was going and I didn’t want to lose her around the first corner, so I ran.”
“So she went home? She lives in that condo right now, Carson.”
“No—yeah, I mean, I know. But it’s not where she went, but who she went with.”
“That Bobby Mansi guy. She says they have a date.”
That motherfucker. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was gonna ask her to dinner. I had to feign indifference to keep the charade going, but I am so fucking jealous. I can only imagine that this is how Ronnie feels every time I pretend to go out on dates with other girls. If she’s gonna leave me for this new guy, well—she’s not gonna get the chance. I’m gonna make damn sure of it.
Chapter Twenty-Three - Veronica
There is no music in the elevator, so the silence hangs between us and even though I’m not looking at Bobby Mansi, I feel him. I feel his stare. It’s hot. Not an I’m-getting-wet kind of hot, just a make-me-uncomfortable hot.
I swallow and clear my throat, thankful that I’m only on the second floor when the elevator beeps and the doors open. I step out and turn back to him, unsure and uneasy. “I’m just—”
“One hour,” he says, pressing the code for the penthouse. “I’ll be back in one hour. You clean up.” His smile is something close to genuine, and I hesitate just long enough for the doors to close on my confused face.
I walk down to the condo door, unlock it, and step inside. It’s dark and I have no real idea where the lights are, so I feel around on the nearest wall for the switch.
The room illuminates and I step forward. What the hell am I doing here? It doesn’t even make sense. My stomach rumbles and reminds me that I haven’t eaten all day. I go into the efficient kitchen decked out in granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances, and pull open the fridge.
A bowl of strawberries and a bottle of red wine.
I’m not really a wine person, but I find a corkscrew in a drawer and start drinking that shit out of the bottle. I grab the strawberries and set them on the counter top, then slide onto a plush barstool and start feeding myself.
Damn, this is like the best meal in the world.
My phone buzzes a text in my backpack. I jump down, fish it out, and read. Don’t get comfortable. Clothes in the bedroom. You have fifty minutes.
I text back. Who is this?
Ha ha, he returns.
At least he has a sense of humor. I walk back to the bedroom and type a simple OK as my response at the same time.
When I get there, all I see is the dress, laid out on the bed. Black. Short. Sexy. Then the black fuck-me boots. Damn, this guy has my style down. There’s some packages of expensive makeup that never in my life have I ever owned. I’m happy with the Cover Girl shit they sell at Target most of the time. And next to the makeup is a basket filled with hair products.
I sigh. This is a new feeling for me. Being taken care of like a woman. I’m not complaining about my dad’s parenting skills, he was not terrible at it. But no one has ever just… supplied me beauty things.
I love it. Like, I mean, I really love it. I hate struggling and even though lots of confusing things have happened in the last week, lots of really great things have happened too. Like today at the shop. I never once thought about the blood. I was too excited that Spencer sent Carson over to help me. Too thrilled with the fact that he’s had Carson leading me around, keeping some sort of big-brother eye on me. How long has that been going on? I’m not sure, but I think it’s new. Spencer just started paying attention to me last week when he found out I moved out of my dad’s. That’s when everything changed. And this Bobby guy has my curiosity up. I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna try to fuck me tonight, even though all of this appears to be leading up to a fuck.
No. That’s not why he wants me to come to dinner.
My phone buzzes again and I glance down. Forty-five minutes, is all it says.
I’m not actually sure why Bobby Mansi wants me to come to dinner, but I’m curious enough to find out.
Ten minutes later I’m clean. Twenty minutes later my hair has been blown dry and my head is dotted with hot rollers. Thirty minutes later my makeup is done. Forty minutes later I’m wearing the dress and I’m trying to get the fuck-me boots on. They are not so fuck-me accessible without a zipper. Spencer would never waste time trying to get these fuckers off. Nope. I’d be sleeping in them.
This makes me smile. Like so big. God, to be sleeping with Spencer in fuck-me boots again. I’d do almost anything to make that happen.
A knock on the door pulls me from my mini daydream and my heels click in that sexy whore-in-a-porno way as I walk down the hall to answer the door. I pull it open and put my hand on my hip because I’m feeling a little sassy right now. “You are one punctual guy. Is that your best quality?”
If I was answering for him, I’d have to say no. That is not his best quality. Because he’s standing in front of me in a dark suit that looks like it cost more than my ex-Mini Cooper, his hair is coiffed back the way the magazine models are wearing it these days, and he smells like sex.
“It might be,” he says seriously.
Yeah, that fuck-me scent he’s wearing is as much about me as these fuck-me boots are about him.
Weird.
“I’m ready.”
He smiles and then points to my head. “Not quite.”
“Oops, BRB.” Oh God, I’m so embarrassed. I left my rollers in. I do the high-heel tip-toe run back to the master bath and start taking the pins out. My hair rolls down my back in loose bouncy curls and I take an extra minute to fluff it up properly, then let out a deep breath and walk back down the hallway, grabbing my leather jacket off the barstool.
Bobby eyes it suspiciously. “There’s a nice coat in this closet,” he says, pointing to the door off the small foyer.
“I’m good,” I say back as he guides me out of the condo with a gesture, but not a gentle hand on my back like Spencer does. That’s another flag. Not a red one, but it’s at least a yellow. Because he’s got me all dressed up for a date, he’s feeding me dinner in his penthouse, and there’s an underlying air of romance about things.
And yet… there’s not.
It’s strange, but I don’t have much time to dwell, because the elevator doors open and I’m once again waved, but not physically guided, into the large living space. It looks just like it did yesterday, so I’m not awed or anything. This kind of luxury is pretty, I like it. But I’m a small-town girl at heart. I’d never be happy with a condo as my forever home.
“Please,” Bobby says as he motions to the table set up in front of the terrace windows. The view is black, with just a few twinkling lights from houses, because we’re facing the mountains. Out here the view is real. The view is nature. It’s got nothing to do with how the colors light up the darkness and create a beautiful facade that covers an ugly city.
When my eyes adjust to the low light the other view comes into focus. Stars. I’d never trade my starry nights for a valley of lights.
Bobby pulls a chair out for me and I sit as he pushes me back in. “You have nice manners,” I say absently as I take in the table.
“Thank you. I come from a prominent Italian family. They were big on manners.”
“Were? You don’t see them?”
He seats himself across from me and shakes his head, essentially ending that line of conversation. So I just take in my surroundings. I’ve been to fancy parties with Spence, mostly having to do with Antoine and Ronin. Their parties are productions. So I’ve seen a fully decked table before. But those people are like family. Their brand of opulence has never felt intimidating.
This brand does. This table says this man is serious about his fine dining.
I can hear people in the kitchen, so I know we’re not alone, and that eases my nerves a little.
“Hungry?” Bobby asks.
“Yes, I really am. I didn’t have time to eat today. We were busy from the minute I went in until the minute I left. I’d still be there working right now if you hadn’t come to collect me.”
He smiles as he grabs his napkin from the table and places it in his lap.
I do the same, sorta embarrassed that I didn�
�t do it immediately. My manners can’t compare to his. I mean, I have manners. I’m not some Honey-Boo-Boo backwoods, trailer-park redneck. But I’m pretty close. We are most definitely considered white trash around this town.
“Nervous?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say back truthfully. “I’m not sure why I’m here.”
He smiles as a waiter appears and fills our glasses with a deep red wine and sets down some bread in a pretty silver basket. “You’re a beautiful single woman. I’m an attractive single man. It’s a simple deduction, don’t you think?”
He lifts his glass and takes a sip of wine to hide his smile.
I fidget in my seat and blow out a long breath, desperately wishing I had brought my e-cigs. I want one. Bad. I settle for a hard swallow and a mental pep talk. “I don’t think I’m here so you can fuck me tonight after you feed me a delicious meal.”
He laughs and sits back in his seat, crossing a leg over a knee and taking another sip of his wine. Totally at ease with my complete unease. “Is that so?”
I nod. God, this man can’t be much older than me—I’d say twenty-eight at the most—but he makes me feel like a child.
He caresses the edge of his wine glass with a fingertip, eliciting a sharp ting from the crystal. “Then why do you think I brought you here?”
I stay silent, wondering how much I should say. I actually do have a theory, but it’s pretty far-fetched.
“You must’ve thought about it, at least? Why would I ask you to dinner if not to get you in my bed afterward?”
“Well…” I look away. I guess this is it. It’s kinda exciting, but at the same time, terrifying. “You want me for something.”
He tilts his head in the slightest of nods, urging me to continue.
“You know I’m friends with… interesting people. People who have a lot of information, which,” I quickly add, “I have no knowledge of. At all. So if you’re looking for some insight into what they’re doing, or what they did in the past, or whatever, I have nothing to give you. I’m not that close to them.”