“Dude.” Ace pulls me into a half hug. “Still no word?”
“Nothing.” I grind my palm into my eye. I didn’t catch a wink of sleep last night. “I had Zoey replay their final conversation a million times. Nothing makes sense. I found the necklace I gave her, broken on the floor. I can’t imagine what could have driven her to rip it from her neck. I’d like to think it was an accident. That this whole damn thing was some stupid misunderstanding, but the only thing I can come up with is that maybe Zoey is holding something back. Maybe she’s only giving me half the story because she sees how bad she fucked things up.”
“And what is her side of the story?” He nods to his sister, and Neva brings him a cup of coffee.
“She said she talked about how much she missed our parents. Some bullshit about how the cabin represented them. She said Emmy told her she thought of her as a little sister and jumped at the chance to sleep in the boathouse. The end.”
“Hmm.” He twirls the cup with his fingers, considering this. “Nothing out of the norm. So you don’t think Zoey is telling the truth?”
“Hardly.” Neva slides a cup of coffee my way. All I see each time I look at her is a puddle of black hair with eyes. “No offense, but your sister wouldn’t know the truth if it smacked her in the ass.”
Ace and I exchange looks. It’s no secret Zoey is a wild child, but Neva seems a little harsher than usual this morning.
“What’s the story?” Ace nods to her as he takes a careful sip.
Neva pulls her espresso-colored lips back a moment like she might be sick. “Rumor has it she’s fooling around with Dough Boy.”
Warren comes in and says good morning before taking a seat.
“Go to hell.” She tells him before heading toward a pair of customers down at the other end.
“I think we know who Dough Boy is.” I scowl at him. “Are you fucking with my sister?”
Ace holds a hand out to me. “You’re about to blow it.”
We spent the better half of the night on the phone, and I confessed everything about Emmy’s sordid past.
“I probably am.”
“Take it down a notch, would you?” Warren slaps his briefcase on the counter. “I’m not fucking with anyone’s sister.” He turns to Ace. “Yours included. So if this is supposed to be some kind of early morning ambush, you can back off.” He glides out of his tweed blazer only to expose an argyle sweater complete with dress shirt and tie beneath that. If I had to wear that every single day, I’d pump some lead into my head just to mix things up.
“What are you all dolled up for sweetheart?” I pull my coffee toward me and wish to God I were having breakfast with Emmy instead.
“I’m working at my father’s accounting firm.” Warren shakes his head as if he’s reached the edge of a cliff, and he might just want to jump.
“No shit?” Ace raises a brow. “Is law over for you?”
“Yeats revoked its offer for grad school.” He flicks a finger. “Neva fetch me a beer,” he belts. “Anyway, I’m falling back on my accounting degree. What do you idiots care? I’m sure you’ll both be working for me in a year anyway.”
Shit. If I were in a better mood, I’d laugh in his face.
“All I want from you is the name of you father’s escort service. The one he used in December to be exact.” A riot of emotion runs through me. I want to shake the shit out Warren, Warren Senior, Zoey, and maybe even Emmy for landing us in this position to begin with.
“Where’s that hot chick you’re banging?” He looks over his shoulder. “She not doing it for you?” Warren is stumped why I’d bother to ask.
“She took off, and I want to know where she went.” I press my lips together afraid the truth is about to come out, and I’m afraid it might have to. As much as I want to protect her reputation, I just need her here, safe with me.
“Dude.” He inches back, examining me while putting it all together. “Was she a fucking whore?”
Ace grabs the beer from Neva and puts it in Warren’s stubby little hand. “We just need the connection, that’s all.”
“No.” I dig my fingers through my hair because I hate where this is about to go next. “She was the one who was supposed to service your father in December, and she ended up in my boathouse instead. Look, I’m not judging your father—I just need to know where she might have went. She left yesterday, and I haven’t heard from her since.”
He gurgles a laugh into his beer. “Damn, my dad’s hooker was hot.” He shakes his head. “Call her. Did you ever think of that, dipshit?”
“I don’t have her number. She was with me all the time. We never—” I squeeze my eyes tight, all I see is blood red, then Emmy’s beautiful face. “It’s probably not her real name. I don’t know her name. I never saw her driver’s license. I don’t know jack shit. So you see, Warren”—I clench my jaw because I hate that so much hinges on the asshole seated beside me—“I need the name, number, and address of whoever it is your father uses to get his wrinkled rock’s off.”
He gives my arm a hard slap as he stands.
“I’ll see what I can find out.” He scoops his briefcase and nods at the two of us. “He’ll deny it. He always does.” And with that he’s out the door.
He’s right. Warren Senior denies the shit out of it.
And I am so fucked.
So fucked without Emmy.
I close my eyes and never want to see the light of day again.
March
April
May
June
July
5
The Price of Love
Demi
August
“One month.” In one month I’ll be twenty-one and legally able to take back my father’s company, his house (if you can call it that), and acreage—all of which are rightfully mine. Just the thought of Nora living high on my father’s hog all these years is enough for me to want to roast her myself and stick an apple in her mouth.
“Just thirty days.” Eva stirs her gin and tonic with a svelte red straw.
“That’s right, my stepmonster and her evil seed will never know what hit them.” I glance around the dimly lit bar located on the first level of Reeva’s thirty thousand square foot den of lasciviousness. “Who am I kidding? I fully intend on letting them know what hit them.”
“I always knew you had a little sledge hammer in you, Demi. You got a lawyer?” Eva winks at a buffed-out biker strutting by. He reeks of cheap booze and dirty sex, but neither of us can take our eyes off those patches that are plastered all over his vest. Bikers are a fascinating breed all on their own. The mob runs a deal with them—all girls half off in exchange for various goods and services. The bikers are a little surly and rough around the edges in bed but usually pretty nice—or so Eva says. I wouldn’t know. I’ve resorted back to casual work.
“There’s an attorney in Brady. He wants a ten thousand dollar retainer. Plus, I figure I’ll need about another five just to rent a room and feed myself until the rest of my money is relinquished.”
“And how many billions is that?” She drops her head back and holds a cherry over her lips as if she’s teasing herself. What she’s really doing is teasing the sexed-up biker seated to my left. He has a boyish appeal to him—bad boy. I turn my head just enough to affirm this theory, and he offers a greasy smile.
“Many.” It’s true. My father’s steel mill is worth its weight in gold—more than gold, actually. I already have a plan of action in place—fire every damn person who has anything to do with Nora or Josh. I can’t wait to boot them out on their mooching behinds. I’ve spent every day, since I’ve been back, researching, planning, plotting. Now that I’ve safely extricated myself from Gavin’s life, I’m completely focused on taking down Nora and her demonic offspring.
Gavin. I close my eyes, and my entire body sags.
“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Eva spits her chewed up cherry stem at me, trying to pull me out of my Gavin funk.
“I think about him all the time. Like why in the hell did I ever end up in the arms of the man whose parents I killed?” Zoey blinks through my mind, and I blink her right back out.
“You know there’s a war in the Middle East and a gas main that just blew a hole in a factory in China. You should probably blame yourself for that, too. Why not?” She takes a sip of my drink and pushes it back to me. “You’ve got a flare for the dramatic. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“No—because for one, it’s not true. I have a flare for ending people’s lives. If you’re smart, you’ll run for cover.”
She rolls her eyes. “Point in case. You ever plan on paying Mr. Jackson a visit and laying it all out on the line? I bet he could let it go if you can.”
“It’s case in point, and, to answer your question—no.” I shift in my seat as our biker buddy takes the opportunity to rub his thigh over mine. I scoot to the far end of my barstool. “You don’t get it, do you?” I hiss at Eva. “I’m cursed. Believe me, the best thing I ever did was run and run fast.” I sped down that mountain with a death wish—ironic since I seem to make everyone else’s come true. “Who knows what would have happened to that poor man if I stuck around another minute. A tree might have fallen over his cabin and crushed him to death.”
She purses her lips, unconvinced. “I bet that boy feels as if a tree fell right over his heart. I bet he’s already crushed to death on the inside. Love doesn’t melt away—it stays, it condenses into something potent. It just gets stronger, Demi. What you had was magic. It makes no sense to run away from something like that.”
Magic. A sweet wave of wanting comes over me at the thought of the magic we could have made, that we were about to make before I discovered what havoc I wreaked in their lives.
“I wonder if Gavin is making magic with other girls?” It comes out more rhetorical, heartbroken. Gavin said we were the same person, only by some stroke of luck I seem to have changed. I haven’t slept with a single person since I left Loveless. I guess he changed me after all. Just the memory of his warm skin, the subtle cologne that cast me under its spell, night after night, it’s almost enough to carry me through the barbed teeth of each lonely day. Almost.
Reeva rolls up in her wheelchair, and we take a seat at a nearby table together.
“How are my two favorite girls?” Her hair is far too curly and far too short. She’s got that Orphan Annie vibe going on, and it’s always been a little unnerving for me. It doesn’t help that it’s red as a fire engine and screams bad Halloween wig even though it’s homegrown. Reeva is beautiful even though her MS has worn her down. She’s less into making herself look good than she is into making herself feel better these days, and, really, that’s the way it should be. Less lipstick, more massages. Reeva has two regulars she’s held onto, a mayor from two towns over and a fisherman that shows up twice a year when he hits a big blue fin payday.
“We’re just freaking dandy.” I pluck the straw from Eva’s drink and roll it between my fingers. A nervous habit I picked up when I started working here. Some people smoke, I roll trash between my fingers to calm and soothe me.
“Demi is still brooding over that lumberjack she dumped.” Eva pecks an air kiss my way.
“I didn’t dump him.” Not intentionally. “I killed his parents. There’s quite a difference. One involves hurt feelings, and the other involves the inability to feel forever.”
Reeva flinches. She already knows every last detail. My bestie here makes sure Reeva is in on all the house gossip, including mine. Not that anyone really cares about Gavin and me. Except for Eva of course—and, well, me.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Her eyes linger over mine. “You know how I feel about love.”
I nod. “It happens once, and, if you lose it, you pay the rest of your days.” She’s said those words more than a couple times. I think she’s speaking from experience, but she’d never admit it.
“True enough.” She toasts me with Eva’s drink and takes a sip. “Now, listen. I came to talk about what you’re expecting to happen right around your birthday.”
“I get the money from my father’s estate, and I give you a hundred thousand dollars for putting up with me all these years.” I’m happy to review the facts with her. When I showed up on her doorstep a few months ago, Reeva reluctantly let me slip back to casual standing. I’d like nothing more than to hand her a big fat check for that.
“Make it two.” She gives a knowing smile.
Reeva. I want to laugh or scream for being stupid enough to ever get mixed up with this hoe-haven to begin with. I wonder if there’s a threat in there somewhere? Knowing Reeva, there’s not. She has enough medical bills to wallpaper this place, twice.
“I’ll make it two.” For as much money as my father’s estate is worth, I’m sure it’s less than half a day’s interest.
“What do you need?” She squints at me as if trying to read my life’s story in my face. I wonder if she sees Josh with his pants down in one eye and Nora in the other with a straight jacket waiting for me. “What’s stopping you from cutting the balls off those bastards that stole your daddy’s money?”
“Fifteen thousand dollars. You want to give me a loan?” I’ve already asked. Reeva personally doesn’t have two dimes to rub together, at least not that many dimes.
“What are you going to do?” She lowers her chin because I know what she’s asking.
I glance around at the sea of men, laughing, carousing, gargling with gin as they wait their turn for the ride of a lifetime. This of course is a very bad plan B.
I was sort of buying time, waiting for a miracle from up above.
“I guess my options are limited,” I whisper.
But I’m still hoping for a miracle.
Gavin
The sun rises on another sweltering August morning. The humidity is so thick you choke just trying to catch your next breath. I head over to the Corner Store for a cup of muddy coffee. Zoey has been working there right alongside her “archenemy” Neva. Her word not mine. The shit hit the fan once it came out she was the one who stole Warren from under her. I shake my head. I can’t stand the thought of Warren laying his perverted banana hands on my sister, but, at the end of the day, I can’t do a thing about it. Nope. There’s not a thing I can control in this universe. I learned that the hard way from Emmy herself. I can still see her porcelain skin, hear her bubbling laughter, taste those honeyed lips. I’m not sure what possessed me to think she would stay—that, one day I would make her my wife. She told me herself she was a liar. The funny thing is, she never said those three magic words I was so hard up to hear, and, now, I’m glad. I’d hate to think she was lying about that. I told her I loved her and meant every syllable.
“Douche!” Ace nods to me from the back where he sits with a few familiar faces. I nod over at Zoey and Neva and head on back. Summer is almost over, and Reese and Ace will be headed to Yeats again soon.
“Douche here, reporting for duty,” I say, taking a seat across from Brylee with her heavily drawn in eyes and give a short-lived smile. Ever since Emmy took off, Brylee has taken to propositioning me as if it were a sport. And I’ve turned her down just as many times. Brylee is pretty, and God knows she’s warmed my bed on more than a few occasions, but that was the past, things are complicated now. Emmy was here, and then she left, and my head is still spinning. “Everyone ready for the mass exodus?” I try to evict Emmy out of my head by changing the subject.
Reese knocks an elbow into Kennedy. “My sweet stepsister isn’t leaving you, Gav. Tell him why, Ken.”
“I’m taking a semester off to find myself.” She says it pissed like maybe that’s what she was coached to say. Kennedy shovels a red velvet waffle into her mouth while looking at me. I have to admit, the waffles around here are damn good. I’ve had Zoey bring me one every night since they’ve added them to the menu. Comfort food. God knows I’ve needed my fair share of comfort.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say. “
I’ve taken every semester off to find myself and no such luck. Here’s hoping you do better.” I lift Ace’s coffee and salute her.
A set of hostile footsteps stomp in this direction, and I turn to find Warren, looking like he just assaulted the lake with his scull—the glorified canoe he laps Loveless in.
“What is this? The dumbass association meeting?” He gives Reese’s shoulder a tweak before planting himself across from me. It’s hard to believe she continues to tolerate him, albeit on a rudimentary level. “Just the dude I wanted to see.” He plants a solid hit to my shoulder with that ball of granite at the end of his wrist. “You won’t believe the shit that went down at my house this morning.”
“What?” Warren McCarthy has one hundred percent of my attention. I’m still stupid enough to get my hopes up. As of late, my stupidity is my only redeeming quality. I’ve been less than happy and not too shy to let everyone in on the secret.
“My father got the heave-ho.” His brows dig into his forehead. “Mom says she’s done with his shit. She mentioned something about the boathouse.” He dips his chin because we both know what that means.
My adrenaline spikes so fast, the only thing I might be having for breakfast is a brain embolism. I’m so close to Emmy, I can feel her.
“Did you ask questions? Do you know where she might be?” By she I mean Emmy, and by be I mean brothel. It’s still an unfortunate reality I have to deal with day in and day out. It guts me to think about. I’ve shed a tear or two—hell, I’ve drenched a few pillows over the fact some imbecile out there might be touching my wife. I can’t help but think of her that way. We may never have consummated our union, but she took my heart along with her, and I’m clinging to the fantasy she might still be mine.
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