The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  I flung the paper onto the floor. “Don’t bother. I really don’t give a shit.”

  She stood with her mouth opened and pointed to the door. “Principal’s office, now!”

  Whatever.

  I took my time walking to the office and realized what a dumbass thing that was to do. She would just call my mother, who wouldn’t answer, and then she’d call my father, who would. He’d be pissed off, disappointed in me, and give me the lecture about how if I wanted to be a doctor like him, I had to do better in school.

  I

  Did.

  Not.

  Want.

  To.

  Be.

  Like.

  Him.

  “Wait outside,” I was told when I arrived.

  I sat on the bench with my head down and pondered what to say.

  I could come clean and tell her I was drowning.

  That I couldn’t take care of my sister and my mother and do my homework and come to school and lie to my father and get good grades.

  It was all too much.

  That my mother had now started bringing strangers home at all hours of the night and waking me up with the noises she made while banging them.

  That in order to make sure Rory didn’t wake up and hear her, I’d carry my sister out to the car until the dude or dudes would leave.

  The door opened, and when I looked up, I saw the horror on Principal Mears face. “Jake, go back to class.”

  I blinked. “But I was sent down here.”

  “I know.” She was crying. “Please go back to class.”

  Okay, I thought. That was easy, but why was she crying?

  I didn’t have to wonder for long.

  Her voice came over the PA. “Students, there has been a great tragedy. A plane has flown into the World Trade Center. The reason is unclear, but we are canceling school for the day.”

  Unclear?

  What did that mean?

  Canceling school had to mean it meant something bad.

  My blood went cold.

  I had to get to Rory.

  I ran as fast as I could out of the main doors and all the way to Rory’s school. Mass chaos was taking place there as the news had broken. I didn’t care about protocol or signing her out or that I was authorized or not.

  I went to her class and called her into the hallway through the glass. She came out, and I told her we had to leave. She cried that her favorite pink bracelet was in her desk.

  “Leave it,” I told her.

  “I can’t. Daddy gave it to me and told me when I wear it to think of him.”

  “Why did you take it off?” I gritted through my teeth.

  “It’s too big. It keeps falling off.”

  I waited for her to go get it, and then I took her by the hand and brought her home.

  As soon as I got there, I turned the television on. A plane had flown into one of the towers, and they no longer thought it was an accident.

  It was an attack.

  We were under attack.

  I tried to call my father.

  He didn’t answer. He always answered when I called. I left him a message. “Dad, call me please, we need you.”

  Monica stumbled down the stairs with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Aren’t you two supposed to be in school?”

  “Mommy,” Rory ran to her. “Look at the television. New York City is under attack.”

  She puffed on her cigarette and blew it out. “Oh, good, maybe it will wipe out the whole city and your father, too.”

  Rory clung to the silk of Monica’s robe. “Don’t say that, Mommy. It isn’t nice.”

  My mother pulled her back and slapped her across the face. “Don’t ever tell me what to do and not to do.”

  The hatred I felt for Monica at the moment was unlike anything I’d felt in my life. “Rory, come over here.”

  “You’re just like him,” Monica muttered. “Always the do-gooder.”

  “I’d rather be like him than you,” I answered.

  “Oh yeah, what do you think I am?”

  “A drunk.”

  Just then news of a second plane flashed across the screen. I held Rory tight and prayed for the first time in a long time that my father was on his way here.

  But as the hours passed, I heard nothing from him. I kept trying to reach him. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t answering his phone. It was around nine at night when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  The voice was rough. “Can I talk to Mrs. Kissinger?”

  “This is her son, she’s out, can I help you?”

  “Yes, Jake, this is Dr. Peter Wright.”

  “Dr. Wright, have you heard from my father?” He was my father’s friend and colleague.

  “Listen, son, I really need to talk to your mother.”

  I looked around the room, and then down at Rory who was asleep next to me. “She isn’t here. Is this about my father? I can’t reach him, and it’s not like him not to call.”

  He ignored me. “Can you ask her to call me?”

  “She won’t call you, Dr. Wright, come on, you have to know that. Please just tell me where my father is.”

  A pained sound emanated from deep in his throat. “Son, your father went to the World Trade Center today to help with the victims, and—”

  My world turned black.

  I tuned the rest out.

  He was dead.

  Later that night, when I was beside Rory in her bed, I heard Monica come in the door, and even on a day like this she wasn’t alone. The music turned on and I smelled smoke and heard her drunken voice.

  I didn’t have the energy to carry Rory out to the car tonight.

  Anger burned through me, and I stormed downstairs. I found my mother and some young guy dancing around the living room. I went over to the stereo and turned it off.

  My mother’s head jerked in my direction. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Rory’s sleeping. Do you think you could keep it the fuck down for once?”

  Monica was scratching her thin arms, and her pupils looked smaller than I’d ever seen them. I had no idea how drunk or high she was, just that she was out of control. She practically leaped toward me and slapped me so hard, blood leaked from my mouth. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that!”

  With a shake of my head, I turned my back on her and walked away. I was so done with her.

  Upstairs, I heard Rory sniffling. I rushed toward her, and when I did, she sat up and looked at me. “Jake,” she cried.

  “I’m here,” I said.

  She took her little fingers and wiped the blood from my lip. Then she lifted her wrist and looked at the sparkly pink bracelet she was still wearing that was way too big for her before slipping it off. “I want you to have this.”

  “It’s yours,” I whispered.

  “But you need it right now.”

  I took it from her. “I’ll keep it safe for you. Now, go back to sleep.”

  “I can’t. I’m worried about Daddy. What if he never comes to get us? Who will take care of me?”

  “I will,” I told her.

  “But you’re not a grown up.”

  She was right.

  I might have felt like one, but I wasn’t.

  That’s when I grabbed my phone. Rory couldn’t grow up like this.

  “Hello?”

  “Mimi, it’s Jake. You have to come and get us.”

  And she did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Through the Dark, I See the Light

  JULES

  THAT DAY MARKED OUR ENTRY into an exclusive club—a club no one would ever, ever wish to join.

  We were the children of those tragically killed. There were over three thousand of us under the age of eighteen.

  Each of us suffering through the never-ending DNA tests, the endless phone calls, the personal items identification process.

  I’d blocked it all out.

  Neve
r talked about it.

  This was, in fact, the first time I had shared my story or listened to another.

  When Jake opened his eyes, they were the saddest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen. I knew I could drown in them, and I also knew I could pull him out of the water.

  Tears fell from my eyes, but I forced myself to keep it together. For once I stayed strong.

  I gazed down at him and threaded my fingers through his hair to push it from his handsome face. “Jake,” I whispered, “I’m so sorry for what you had to go through, but your father’s death wasn’t your fault. You have to know that.”

  He shook his head. “A part of me does. A part of me knows my father would have made it to the World Trade Center even if he was in Connecticut, because that was just who he was. Helping people was in his blood.”

  I stared at him in wonder. “And you followed in his footsteps. I’m sure he’s looking down at you with pride.”

  His own eyes filled with emotion and his voice was hoarse when he said, “I never really hated him. In fact, I think I always wanted to be like him, I was just afraid I’d end up more like her.”

  I pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “You are a strong, kind, and giving man. And you are you.”

  With a laugh, Jake rolled us over and looked down at me. “I’m not sure if you see me differently than the world or if you’re just blinded—”

  Cupping his face in my hands, I cut him off. I didn’t care what he thought I was blinded by. His good looks. His arrogance. His brooding personality. His alpha tendencies. It didn’t matter. “I see you the way you are. I see you perfectly.”

  He shook his head and then he lowered it, stopping just before my lips. “We have thirty minutes before I have to check on Finn. Let’s not spend any more of it talking.”

  “But we’re not done—”

  His mouth met mine like a fever, and the flashpoint of heat melted me. Like this, I forgot what I wanted to say.

  All I knew was that we were connected through tragedy, and somehow that made this kiss even more intense than any of the others.

  My head fell back as his teeth nibbled at the curve of my throat. He let his free hand roam, over my skin, my angles, my slight curves.

  Had I ever been kissed like this before?

  In that way that the meeting of lips, of tongues, of teeth, vibrated through my entire body.

  Dazzling.

  Hot.

  Sweet.

  Seductive.

  I knew I hadn’t.

  So I kissed him back.

  And he kissed me.

  And then we kissed some more.

  I wanted him to kiss me forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  When Pigs Fly

  JAKE

  THE INTIMACY OF THE NIGHT had thrown me for a loop.

  As the sheet covered our bodies from head to toe, I didn’t want to think about the same heartbreaking pasts we shared. Instead, I thought about her, and touched her, and then touched her some more.

  Caressing my hand down her back, I lightly nipped at her shoulder with my teeth. She giggled, and I swore the oddest thing happened to me—my heart skipped a beat.

  What the hell was going on with me?

  She laughed from inside our cocoon. “That tickles.”

  I buried my face in her neck and sucked on the spot behind her ear I’d already discovered didn’t tickle her as much as drove her wild.

  Her breathing picked up the minute I applied pressure there with my lips. She might not be ticklish in that spot, but it definitely turned her on.

  “Does this tickle?” I murmured in her ear, knowing already it didn’t. Knowing the more I sucked, the wetter she would get. The hotter she would get. The more she’d beg.

  “No,” she said, and her voice sounded breathy.

  We’d spent most of the night exploring each other’s bodies. I checked on Finn every two hours, and he was doing fine. Irritated. Sore. And in need of sleep, I’d decided to give him three hours before waking him again.

  When Juliette and I had finally fallen asleep, it was almost dawn. With the light streaming in my room now, I wasn’t sure what time it was, just that it wasn’t early morning anymore. I didn’t really care either.

  I nipped at her earlobe, and she giggled. The sound was one I was beginning to really like.

  The soft chime of my alarm told me exactly what time it was. I rolled over onto my back and pulled the sheet from our heads.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Going to check on Finn.” I sat up.

  She burrowed out of the sheet and crawled up to lay her head on my thigh. “Is it time already?”

  “Well, I do have ten minutes.” I reached for my phone to see if I had any messages, but then I looked down at her. Her grin was wide and her hair was a beautiful mess of tangles. As soon as I saw that smile, I unclenched my hand and left my phone where it was. “You know what, ten minutes can be a really long time.”

  “It can be,” she grinned, “but we should probably use that time to shower.”

  “Together,” I added.

  Just then her stomach rumbled.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  “A little.” Her eyes seemed to light up at the thought of food.

  “Okay, tell me what you want.”

  “You,” she whispered and nipped at the skin of my thigh.

  With a growl, I lifted her chin to look at me. “I meant what food do you want, but I like your answer better. Let’s go ahead and shower, right now.”

  She looked away and then covered her face with her hands.

  “Why are you acting shy all of a sudden?”

  She lifted her fingers from her eyes. “I’m not, but I have to tell you something before we get in the shower.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “The day I went to Rosewood to meet with your sister, I saw you masturbating in the shower,” she confessed.

  I bit my lip. “I know.”

  She bolted up. “You know? How do you know?” she asked horrified.

  The grin on my face had to be priceless. “I saw you in the reflection of the mirror.”

  “Oh God! Why didn’t you say anything, or close the door, or tell me to get lost, or . . . or . . . or stop.”

  I took her face in my hands. “I didn’t want to. It was hot watching the way you reacted to seeing me touch myself.”

  “Hot? That was not hot. Well, I mean, you were hot. You were really, really hot, but—”

  The things she got flustered about were sexy as fuck.

  Did she even know that?

  “I’ll do it for you again sometime, if you want.” I offered her a cheeky grin.

  Her eyes hooded and her lips parted. “Okay, I’m good with right now.”

  Laughing, I got out of bed. “Well, I think we could probably do something together.”

  “That works, too.”

  When I turned to take her hand and lead the way, her earrings glistened in the sunlight the exact same way they had the first time I saw her at the bakery, but I realized right then that wasn’t the first time.

  The enormity of how I knew her, where I knew I had seen her before, hit me hard, and I sat on the edge of the bed.

  She wrapped her arms around me. “What is it, Jake?”

  I twisted around. “Your earrings.”

  It didn’t make sense, I knew, but I had to catch my breath.

  Touching one of them, she said, “What about them? They were my mother’s favorite pair. I wear them all the time.”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s not what I mean. You attended the circle of honor at Ground Zero in 2002.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  I knew she had.

  She nodded. “Yes, just before the candlelight ceremony in Battery Park. President Bush and the First Lady attended,” she said, and then swallowed. “How do you know that?”

  “I saw you there,” I sai
d my voice going low. “You were talking to the Mayor. I saw your blond hair and the way your earrings sparkled in the sunlight and the sadness on your face. It was something I knew I’d never forget.”

  Her stare remained blank as if she’d gone off to that far off place that was filled with nothing but darkness.

  “I came up to you right before the air filled with the solemn sound of “Amazing Grace” and gave you a single white rose.”

  “Oh my God, that was you? That was you!”

  I nodded. “I saw you looking around at everyone holding a flower.”

  She smiled a sad smile. “And you said, “here you don’t have one, and you should,” and you handed me one.”

  At the same time, I said, “And I said, here, you don’t have one, and you should,” and then I handed you mine.”

  Juliette crawled onto my lap and pressed her forehead to mine. “You were my hero that day.”

  I shook my head. “The heroes were those we were there to mourn.”

  She cupped my face in her hands. “Yes, they were, but to me, you were also one.”

  I wrapped my arms around her, and held her tight. I didn’t know what I was feeling or how I felt, but I knew it was something I’d never experienced before.

  I was no one’s hero.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Your Guess Is As Good As Mine

  JULES

  THE WEEK PASSED BY IN a flurry.

  Jake had worked eight nights straight. I had worked eight days straight.

  Him, at the hospital.

  Me, on Rory’s wedding.

  I’d only seen him once, and that was four days ago. It was the Friday afternoon I’d spent at Rosewood to meet with the potential caterer, and he had woken up early and brought me to the pool house.

  That didn’t mean we hadn’t been in touch though. Talking on the phone and texting had occupied a good portion of my days this week. We’d seemed to climb some wall, and what was on the other side held no barriers. He told me about what it was like when he moved into Rosewood, and why he went to medical school in New York City. In turn, I was able to tell him about my parents and Diogi, and smile at the memories, not cry.

  It was a first for me.

  The air just felt lighter with him on the line.

  I sighed.

  We talked about everything. I asked him why he worked as much as he did and he told me because he was good at his job. That he liked helping people. Liked learning what he didn’t learn in medical school. That in his first year out of residency he was putting in his dues. And that working nights allowed him to stay away from the administrative rules he found suffocating. It allowed him to take care of the patients.