by TC Matson
I laugh. “She didn’t remember either. We woke up that morning and realized we were married. I left to get us some breakfast—”
“Fuel for the brain,” he interrupts with a chuckle.
“When I got back she was gone. Norman said she left in a hurry.”
“Norman? What the fuck was that snake doing there?”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “He’s my manager.”
“Well, in that case, what the fuck was the sneaky manager doing there? I bet you money he ran her off.”
I don’t know where his hatred for Norman stems from, but it’s been there since the day Norman started with me full-time. Milo says it’s the vibe he gives off, but hell if I know.
Ignoring him, I continue. “Dude, I don’t have her number, no clue where she lives, what her full name is. Nothing.”
“Shouldn’t she have your last name now?”
I chuckle. “Pretty sure she didn’t run to the courthouse to have it changed.” I pause, glancing at the sky. “There had to be something about her. You know I’ve never thought about marrying anyone ever.”
“The sex?”
Tipping my head back, I bark a laugh. “Although sex with her was out-of-this-world great, we waited until after we were married.”
“Have Janet put out a commercial on TV asking for her. Something public.”
I cackle at the idea. “Janet would have a heart attack. It’s her job to keep my personal affairs out of the public eye.”
“Do you remember any of your conversations?”
“Yeah. A lot of them. She’s going to school to become an elementary teacher and she works at her dad’s dental office. She was there with her best friend Kirsten celebrating her twenty-first birthday.”
“Wait. She’s twenty-one or her friend is?”
I hear the skepticism in his voice. Although it’s only a six-year difference, she’s younger than what I go for. “Both.”
“Where did you meet her?”
“Ran into her as they were leaving their hotel.”
“Check all the chapels and see if you can find the one you got married at. Get a copy of the marriage license and then you’ll have her information.”
“Dude,” I jump to my feet and rush into the house. “I’ve got the license.”
“You’ve had her maiden name the entire time?”
“Shut the hell up. I wasn’t thinking.” I unzip the front pouch of my suitcase and grab it.
“Start there and track her down. Call me if you need anything else. I’ve got to go.”
We hang up.
Amelia Rossi
A quick Google search only steals my excitement. There are a shit ton of Amelia Rossis in the US.
Me: Did Amelia give you her information when she left?
It’s a long shot, but I’m hoping like hell for some reason she did.
Norman: Who?
Me: The girl in my hotel room yesterday.
Norman: She didn’t speak a single word to me other than she needed to leave.
Well, shit…
* * *
Norman slams three magazines and a newspaper in front of me on the conference table. “What the hell is this?” His grumble is low and threatening.
I was woken up this morning and called into a meeting before seven o’clock. Not the way I like to wake up. Leaning forward, I check out what has his panties in a twist.
NRA’s Truck Series, Declan Palmer, Ties the Knot After Winning in Vegas
Declan Palmer, Dream Driver for NRA’s Truck Series, Drunkenly Marries in Vegas to Mystery Girl.
Declan Palmer Marries in Vegas.
Truck Series Driver Spotted Marrying High School Sweetheart.
I stifle a laugh at the last one. They make up shit all the time for a story. Our pictures are all over them. Same thing, just different angles. Amelia is leaned against me, her palms pressed on my chest, looking up at me with those round eyes and smiling. My grin is stretched ear to ear peering down at her like she holds the light in the sky.
What the hell?
“The National Racing Association will have a field day with you,” he sighs, dropping into the chair beside me.
“Are these rumors true?” Janet, my PR, inquires.
I glance up to her concerned brown eyes, positive my answer is on my expression before voicing it. “Yeah.”
Norman scoffs.
Janet’s sweet concern morphs into exasperation. “You should’ve given me a heads up. I could’ve gotten in front of the rumors and prevented them from hitting the tabloids.” She opens her portfolio, flips a page, and begins scribbling. “We need to contact her and get this annulled quietly. You’ll pay for all the fees and then give her some money for her troubles.”
“He doesn’t know how to get in touch with her,” Norman adds smugly. “Married her without getting her phone number.”
Janet’s gaze flicks to me, silently asking if it could possibly be true.
I nod without voice. What can I say?
“I’ll contact the chapel in the vicinity of the hotel and see if she provided an address or phone number.” She jots something down. “Do you know anything about her?”
I blow a chuckle. “She was worth marrying?”
“You need to take this matter more seriously than what you are. You are a public figure.” Apparently, Norman didn’t like my answer. “You can’t just do something so damn careless.”
I raise a brow with a smirk. “Does your wife know about how careless you are when you’re on the road?”
He murders me with a glare, gritting his teeth.
Thought not…
“Save your careless speech for someone else. Trust me, I’m just as flabbergasted about this as everyone else,” I add nonchalantly, resting back in my chair.
He jabs his fingers onto the top magazine, the one with our picture on it, with fire in his eyes. “This bitch could—”
I slap the table. “This bitch is my wife. Regardless of how we got here, you’ll show her respect. I’m at fault just as much as she is. Look at the pictures. Doesn’t seem she had a gun to my head.”
“You don’t even know her,” he snaps.
“I’m smart enough not to marry a bitch, Norman,” I fire back.
Janet interrupts, clearing her throat. “I think the main concern right now is blackmail or bribery.”
Frustrated, I laugh. “I’m a driver. Not a damn rock star. She wouldn’t gain a thing from me, not much anyway. But I think you both are fretting over nothing. I’m positive she isn’t like that.”
At least I hope so…
Janet nods, shutting her folder. “We’ll get on the ball to find her and see about having the entire situation erased.”
As she stands, so do I. “If you find her, I want to talk to her first.”
THREE
Working for my dad has some advantages. He isn’t a hard boss, I know his weak spots, his office is about a fifteen-minute walk from school, and most importantly, he works around my class schedule. I don’t get many hours working with him, but it’s enough to help pay rent for the house my parents are renting to me.
Dad comes out from the last patient and shrugs off his lab coat. “Did you girls have fun in Vegas?” He steps into his office.
“Yeah. We went to a comedy magic show. It was hilarious. You should take Momma.” Oh, and by the way, your precious daughter got hammered and married the first guy she met…
He steps back out of his office, flipping off the light. “Honey. There is nothing in Vegas I care to see.”
“Not even the prostitutes?” I tease. My parents are top-level holy rollers just shy of standing on the corner and shouting their love for God. They’re not pushy Christians. They don’t judge you if your beliefs are different than theirs, and they raised me to love everyone. But they would most definitely drag me by the ear straight into church, right up to the pulpit and demand an exorcism if they found out what happened in Vegas.
Dad’s
deep chuckle warms my soul, and he shakes his head. “Not even the prostitutes.”
“Well, what kind of man are you?” I joke as I lock the desk up.
He bends, kissing me on top of the head. “A very happily married one. Mom cooked a chicken pie for supper tonight. I hope you can join us.”
“I can. Just let me run home and change first.”
“See you soon, honey. Make sure you set the alarm before you leave.” He tips his chin to the wall and pushes out of the door.
I’m climbing into my car when my phone begins to ring.
“Can’t a girl get off work and at least get the AC running before her best friend starts blowing up her phone?” I laugh answering it.
“Not when I’ve got something you want,” Kirsten says.
“My degree and a million dollars?”
She snickers. “How about a phone number that could lead you to Declan. It’s to his shop. I think.”
My pulse picks up at his name, a rush of anticipation spreading down my spine. “Seriously? How’d you manage that?”
“Late night, the internet, Red Bulls, and a lot of cussing,” she giggles again. “Speaking of, there are pictures of you and him at the chapel floating around.”
“Seriously?” I pray my dad doesn’t watch the sports section of the news.
“Yep. I’ll screenshot it and send it to you when we get off the phone along with the phone number.”
I sigh. “He doesn’t want to hear from me. I bet those pictures have him raging mad.”
“Well. He’s your husband and the only way to fix the problem is to contact him about getting your spur-of-the-moment marriage annulled.”
“I don’t know, Kirst. What the heck would I say to him?”
“How about, ‘Hi. What’s your address so we can get divorced? And while we’re at it, let’s screw wildly to celebrate.’”
I laugh through the emptiness saturating my gut. “Just send me the number.”
“I’ll do it. Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes.”
If I call…
“Sure. Love you.”
* * *
Mom brings the chicken pie out and sets it in the middle of the dinner table before taking a seat so Dad can say grace.
Mom shakes out her napkin and places it across her lap. “How was Vegas? Get to see anything exciting?”
“It was beautiful, Momma. We went to see a comedy magic show. I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. I told Dad he needed to take you.”
“Did you do any gambling?”
“Only what I told you I’d do. I didn’t want to go broke. But I won two hundred dollars. Kirsten won almost four.”
I see the disappointment in her eyes, but my mother has always let me learn my lessons on my own. She believes I need to experience life, but I know if I ever fall, she’ll pick me up.
“Did you girls drink?” Dad asks over his tea glass.
Did we ever…
I cock my head to the side and give him a wide smile. “It was my twenty-first birthday.”
“Two beautiful girls being drunk is dangerous,” Mom adds.
“We didn’t get drunk.” Liar! “We had a few drinks. But we were dancing and it was hot, so I chose water.” Liar, liar, my pants are flaming.
“Well, I’m glad you two went. You got to experience something great,” Mom smiles warmly.
“You and Dad should go. Just for the lights. You’d love it.” I’m practically bouncing in my seat.
Dad’s chuckle rumbles out of him. “Sin City isn’t a place for us, honey.”
Growing up, I was raised in church. Every Sunday. Every Wednesday. If the church doors were open, we were there. My parents help with everything—funerals, weddings, choir concerts, and everything in between. As much as they wish I’d travel the path they have, my beliefs are deep, just not rolling like theirs. I blew the holy roller out of the water when I ran off and married a stranger. Pretty sure I’ll have to answer for that one.
“Ricky came by while you were out of town,” Dad informs. “He was surprised you went to Vegas.”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes. Dad has wanted me to date Ricky since high school and swears the boy is husband material. But if Dad knew Ricky, like really knew him, he’d forbid me to even look at him. Ricky’s a manwhore and has slept with a lot of girls in town. They all say he’s pretty good in bed, but who wants to be with someone everyone knows about?
Ignoring Dad’s statement, I switch the conversation. “There’s this fountain in Vegas. The sprays light up and dance. It’s beautiful. You should really see it in person.”
Mom laughs. “I can watch it on the television if—”
“TV, Mom. It’s 2019. We say TV.”
She smiles. “I can watch it on the TV if I want to see it. Maybe I could go out to the garden and make the hose dance while I water it.” She laughs, proud of her little joke.
“Not the same. Not as pretty.” I take a bite of my food, smiling to myself.
* * *
Kirsten: 555-613-5252
She sent the number along with a picture an hour ago. I’ve stared at it since I’ve been home. I was surprised to see how in love we looked. I’m in his arms looking up to him as if he’s my everything. Like we’re happy and wildly in love.
My chest aches.
Kirsten and I were leaving the hotel and heading to the club when Declan ran right into us. I stumbled, but he caught me before I fell onto the sidewalk. Our gazes locked and, in that moment, it was just him and me standing there. His smile was genuine and sexy. Hell, he was sexy. Everything about him was. He apologized and said he was looking down at his phone. Kirsten made some flirty remark about going to the club, but I didn’t think he was paying her any attention. His eyes were fixed on me. Awkwardly, I waved bye and we giggled ourselves on down the sidewalk.
Movie scene, right? Wait. It gets better.
Apparently, he was paying attention because he showed up at the club and found me. We danced and talked, drank and talked some more. I remember thinking how I could listen to his deep voice for hours and stare into his pale brown eyes that have so much depth I all but fall into them. His smile? I felt it in my stomach. My body, including my heart, reacted to everything about him.
I shake my head of the memories and exhale, placing my phone on the table. All the butterflies, all the lust, desire, and hope were fake. It was one-sided and my heart betrayed me.
FOUR
“Did you call the number?” Kirsten asks around a bite of her granola bar.
“No. I’ve decided I’m giving him a week.”
She looks across the table as if I’m being ridiculous. “And another week will make a difference how?”
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m hoping he contacts me first.”
Her eyes soften. “Are you holding out hope that he’s interested?”
I avert my gaze.
“Mel…he sent someone to get rid of you. To pay you off. Why would you hold out hope for someone like that?”
“I’m not.” I flick my fingernail against the corner of my binder. “I guess I’m holding out hope he’ll do the hard work and contact me first.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s high-fiving his friends because he got laid by some super-hot chick and not worrying about anything else.”
Not looking at her, I shake my head. “I don’t think he’s like that.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I don’t know. Just some of the things he said, how he carried himself. Plus, what man boasts about getting laid?”
Her brows jump high. “It’s sex and it’s their dick. They’ll boast about it.”
Is Declan like that? Does he have one-night stands to brag about them? Maybe I’m stressing about how we took our one-nighter to the extreme when we decided to get married, but what if this is his normal? I pray not. I want him to be a good guy who made a great big mistake—like me.
“Wonder who proposed?” Kirsten
thinks out loud.
It breaks me out of my thoughts, and I laugh. “Him. I was raised conventionally, remember?”
“You were also raised to hold out on sex until marriage, but you’ve been deflowered for years.”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“Sex and marriage are two different things. One is devoting your life. The other is a physical activity.” Lame, I know, but I have no argument.
Kirsten knows it. She smiles. “You have one week. If you don’t contact him, I will.”
“I’ll do it. In the meantime, I’ll contact a lawyer and see what I should do.”
Kirsten’s view moves over my shoulder. They widen just before they set back normal, and she leans forward. “Speaking of hell and damnation, Ricky’s coming.”
I groan.
“Hey, Amelia.” He pulls out a chair and takes a seat right beside me, uninvited. He tosses his arm over the back of my seat and leans too close for comfort. “I stopped by to see you the other day. Your dad said you were in Vegas.” His brows waggle.
I roll my eyes. Ricky is cute and has been since high school. He’s tall, athletic, and muscular with black hair he keeps on the messy side and dark deep-set brown eyes. He dresses nicely, always in designer clothes. The problem with him is he believes he’s God’s gift to every woman. His ego is the size of a school bus. He always won popularity contests in school and was deemed the Class Heartthrob and most likely to succeed. None of that helped his egotistical ways. It only fueled them.
I lean and slide my seat away of him. “Yeah.”
His thin lips pull into a grin. “We should’ve gone together. I would have loved to celebrate your twenty-first with you.”
I scrunch my nose. “Kirsten and I had a great time.”
“Without you,” Kirsten adds.
He licks his lips, dropping his view to my mouth. “We could have done a lot of fun things.”
“Oh, she did. A lot of wild fun,” Kirsten’s insinuation drips from her tongue.
Ricky’s eyes flare. “Really? Maybe we could go back to my place and you can show me just how wild you can get.”