by TC Matson
I want to gag. “No, thank you.”
He leans closer beside my ear. “I promise it’ll be good. Come on, Meli. You can’t deny our attraction.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Our attraction? You mean your attraction to me. I personally find you repulsive. You sleep with everyone and have since high school. It’s disgusting. Only hoes and females desperate for the attention will even think about spreading their legs to you. And I’m neither of those.”
Kirsten chokes back a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.
“I’ll convince you one day, Meli.”
I’ve always hated when someone calls me Meli. I arch a brow. “I wish you’d stop. And quit finagling my parents. It’s not going to work.”
His smile never falters. “We’ll see. Just don’t fall in love. I’m saving my heart for you.”
I cackle. “Right. Me and how many other girls?”
He taps his chest right above his heart with two fingers. “Just you, Meli. You’ve owned it since high school.”
“Because she’s the only one smart enough to reject you,” Kirsten says.
Ricky smiles to her. “Don’t call yourself stupid, Kirst.”
Yep. My best friend slipped up and slept with Ricky at a party our senior year. She was devastated. Hated herself for stooping that low but said he screwed like a king. Again, another reason why I’m not touching him with a ten-foot pole.
“A lapse of judgement,” she fires back.
He chuckles, shifting his attention back to me. “One day you and I will be together and I’ll show you just how much of my heart you’ve always had.” He stands and winks before leaving.
Kirsten groans. “I hate him.”
I titter. “You just hate that he humped and dumped you. You were hoping to be that one girl who changed him.”
“That’s beside the point. He’s always been too focused on you anyway.” She sounds like a bratty sister.
“No, he hasn’t. He just likes messing with me because I’m like the only girl who refuses to sleep with him. He wants to dominate the town with his used condoms and I’m the one who won’t give over the key.”
She laughs and shoves her binder into her bag. “Although you’re missing out on some great sex with him, I think you’re smarter than all the Ricky Whore Club. Including me.” She points to herself. “I’ve got to go. I work until close tonight and then the lunch shift tomorrow. Call me later. Love you.”
* * *
One week has passed.
I’ve waited long enough to see if he would reach out first. I stalked the internet to see if something would pop out—like a call for help to find me—but other than a few dying articles about our marriage and a news outlet chasing him down with a microphone, nothing showed up. I was at the edge of my seat when that news reporter asked him about me, hoping he’d send some message, but he ignored them and kept walking.
I contacted a lawyer two days ago and told him my situation. He explained the grounds for annulment and since we were drunk and incapacitated, it’s the way I’m moving forward. Now if only I had his address.
Me: I’m really nervous.
Kirsten: Don’t be. Just call and ask to speak with him.
Me: Just like every crazed fan?
Kirsten: Just call and see what happens.
My fingers shake as I dial the number. My heart is in my ears and I barely hear when someone answers the phone.
“I need to speak with Declan Palmer, please,” I say, proud that my voice didn’t shake.
“Hold please.”
Crap. I’m not ready for this. I’m definitely not ready for this. Crap. Crap.
“This is Norman.” It’s the voice of the man who kicked me out of the hotel.
My throat feels tight. I clear it and throw on my professional façade I use when calling patients to remind them of their appointments. “Hi. I’m looking for Declan Palmer.”
“In regards to?”
“It’s a personal matter.”
“Then you’d have his personal number.”
About that…
“Yes. I’m aware, but I’m—”
“By chance is this Amelia?”
Excitement and fear both slap me in the chest. Is he looking for me? Or trying to run?
“Yes,” I squeak, dammit.
“Don’t you think you’ve caused enough damage? What do you need? Money?”
There’s my answer.
“Excuse me?” I retort. “I don’t need a dollar from him. I’m trying to get ahold of him to fix what happened. We need to discuss where to send annulment papers.”
“You can afford them?” he asks sounding utterly bored.
“How dare you. You know nothing of me,” I fume.
He sighs. “I’ll give him the message to call you.”
Click.
My mouth hangs wide open.
What an ass!
FIVE
After coming in a grueling third place and then participating in the post-race interviews, I head to the RV to take a shower and sneak off to meet Milo. Dressing casually and inconspicuously, I shove into my sneakers, grab my wallet, and head off toward the spot I told Chuck to meet me with the golf cart.
I drop down next to him and nod, giving him a playful smirk. “Driver, to a cab, please.”
Chuck’s brows jump high, his eyes widening as he looks around. “The place is still buzzing.”
My smirk explodes into a grin. “Here’s your chance to be the race car driver.”
Mischievously, he chuckles. “Buckle up, pipsqueak.”
From the moment we met, that’s been his nickname for me. He’s a huge man, two hundred and fifty pounds of pure unadulterated muscle he gains by a shit ton of time with weights. His head is shaved, he sports a long goatee, and each arm is covered in tats. No one would dare to mess with him, except, he’s a big fluff. His looks are opposite of his heart.
Pressing the gas, he pulls onto the path. I grip the roof, feigning fear. “We’ve got to be doing twenty. You’re going to kill us.”
He bellows a hearty laugh. “Give her a few minutes. She tops out at twenty-six.”
I lean as he twists around some of the sidewalks. “How have you been? Sorry I couldn’t talk earlier.”
He nods. “My daughter gave birth to a boy last month.”
“Hell, man. That explains why I haven’t seen you. Congratulations.”
The proud grandfather beams widely and then peers down to my hand. “It true you’re a married man?”
“Don’t always believe what you hear.”
“Pictures don’t lie. Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?”
Just by the tone of your voice, he can tell if you’re lying or not. He’s a damn human lie detector. I used to screw with him and come up with shit he wouldn’t know if I was lying about or not. He’d always call me out.
“Yeah, well, she ran out on me.”
“Did you scare her off?”
“I went to get breakfast,” I say.
He slaps the steering wheel cracking up. “Her timing of cold feet was way off then.”
I bark an empty laugh but don’t reply. Her leaving was the hardest slap in my face I’ve ever endured. Yeah, I was a little freaked the fuck out and needed a breather, but I didn’t expect her to leave while I got breakfast. I thought our time together was pretty damn great. Apparently, she didn’t, and I was left to stare at the empty spot where she slept.
Pulling out of the gates, I tug my hat down low so the officials don’t see me leaving. Chuck stops and waits as I hail a cab, staying there until I’m in the back.
I arrive at the hotel bar and spot Milo sitting at the end with a beer in his hand. Another waits where I’ll be sitting and his eyes are glued to the TV.
I slap his back as I sit on the stool. “What’s up, man?”
All smiles, he twists to me and shoves my shoulder. “Long time no see. Good race today.”
“Glad you could make it, but a
little birdy said you didn’t use the garage pass. Why not?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve told you. It’s not my place. Rather watch it from up top.”
I laugh. “You realize there are fans who would kill you if they heard you passed on those?”
“Then keep your mouth shut and I’ll stay alive.”
The bartender comes over and we order two burgers and fries as we sit around and bullshit. Being around Milo gives me the sense of normalcy I crave. I’m not some famed race car driver to him. My household name means jack shit. To him, I’m Declan, the class clown who grew up to throw the best parties. I’m just the neighborhood kid.
Once we finish our food and order another beer, we head outside to the deck and sit at the corner table.
“Okay, man,” he starts. “Talk to me about her. What have you found out?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I’ve got my PR team on it, though.”
“What was so special about her to make you wed without inviting your best man?”
I puff a chuckle. “The million-dollar question.” I take a pull from the beer. “I’ve racked my brain. I remember meeting, going to the club where I knew she’d be, dancing, and fucking. That wedding is far from my memory. I recall a moment when she made some weird shit happen in my chest…” I trail off. “I was drunk. I was thinking with my dick.”
He cracks up sliding his eyes to me. “I’ve been with some pretty phenomenal fucks and I’ve never had my dick tell me to marry someone.” After a beat, he speaks again. “Who’s heading the PR search? If it’s Norman, I bet he knows where she is but is keeping her far away so he can protect his precious paycheck.”
“Why do you have it out for him so badly?”
“I’m telling you. The man is bad news.” Taking two fingers, he taps his chest. “Intuition, man. I’ve never had a good feeling about him.”
“You’ve only ever voiced it a time or two,” I deadpan. “Enough about my world. Fill me in on yours.”
For the next hour, he tells me all about his job—a superintendent for a grading company—and how he still isn’t settled down yet. Milo isn’t a playboy, but he doesn’t settle for mediocre. Whoever catches his attention and keeps it will be something extraordinary, and he deserves it.
SIX
I’ve tried calling Norman two more times in the past several weeks, but he won’t answer the phone, nor has he returned my calls. It’s obvious he’s avoiding me. Maybe Declan put him up to it hoping it all goes away? Problem is—we have to talk to settle it. You can’t just go un-marry someone. Two parties must be in agreement.
Kirsten sits on the end of my couch, her laptop propped up on the armrest, while I lie in my over-sized chair with my legs thrown over the side. We’re in deep concentration, stuck in detective mode while we try hunting anything down about Declan. Our mission—a damn address other than the one to his race shop.
The more I search, the more my chest aches. I’m met with all types of pictures—photographs of him winning, him sitting in his car with his helmet on, talking to other people in race suits, talking to reporters, our wedding, commercial stills, sponsored shots, him, him, and more him! But nothing we can use.
“We could go to his next race and hunt him down. Maybe show up at the garage. Someone there could point us in the right direction. Don’t you think?” Kirsten muses, not tearing her gaze from her computer screen.
“That would be horribly awkward.”
“Bitch on a mission is never awkward. It’s exhilarating.”
I snort.
She sighs, shutting her laptop. “We’ve been searching for something other than the team shop. It’s clear it’s not public knowledge. Let’s quit wasting time and send the annulment papers care of his publicist. They’ll jump all over it.”
I blink to the ceiling, giving my eyes a break from the computer. “I agree. I’ll call my lawyer Monday.” I swing my legs in front of me and place my laptop on the table, shutting away all pictures of Declan as I run my hands over my face. “I’ve got a test in my elementary education class on Wednesday, and I feel like I haven’t had time to think of anything else but Declan.”
“That’s four days away. You’ve got time to ace it.”
I yawn, stretching my back.
“You should do something to take your mind off everything. Read a book. Take a nap. Take a bubble bath. Anything that will help you relax.” She shoves her laptop into her bag. “I have to be at work early tomorrow. Breakfast shift. Yay.” She pumps her hands into the air with sarcasm, rolling her eyes. “I’m heading home. Relax, Mel. Everything will be okay.”
After she leaves, I change into my pajamas and curl up on the couch, covering with a blanket. For some reason, and even though he’s never been in it, my bed reminds me of Declan and the time we shared in Vegas. I’m haunted by the look in his eyes, the one I clearly see as he rocked into me. They were full of adoration, a longing I could feel wrapping around my heart.
I’ve never believed in love at first sight—lust maybe, but never love. Yet I yearn for him as if I’ve loved him for years. We had a connection so deep…
And it was all in my drunken mind regardless of how clear it seems.
* * *
Monday passed with a call to my lawyer. Wednesday passed with a test I was super nervous about and a professor’s word that it will be graded by Friday. I’ve refreshed the grades screen a million times today. Even now as I walk the sidewalks downtown to grab a bit to eat, my phone is glued to my hand.
As I step into the Square Burger, my eyes land on Ricky at the counter just as he turns to see me. A smile pulls his lips high and he motions for me to come to the counter.
“And whatever she’s having,” he says to the cashier who is clearly smitten with him.
“I’ll pay for mine,” I tell him, stepping away.
Aggravation braids his dark brown irises and I’m surprised when he doesn’t fight me. I wait behind the other two people before me and then step up to place my order.
“You should sit down and eat with me,” Ricky requests.
I push my cup to the soda machine, fill it to the top with Sprite, and place the lid on it. “I’m not interested, Ricky.” I mean it in all ways.
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“It’s Friday. Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
He chuckles. “I’d drop everything to just sit at the same table as you.”
Feigning a swoon, I press my palm to my chest. “Aww. You think your smooth words will work on me. That’s sweet.”
This time he laughs. “You realize I’ve been chasing you for years?”
“I do, but my answer will always be the same. I’m really not interested in dating you. Your reputation is a little too whorey for me and we both know you wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants. Faithful isn’t at the top of your to-do list.”
“You know how to crush a guy. You know that?” There’s a sparkle in his eye telling me he’s just bullshitting me.
“I think you should find one girl you can stand and try—truly try—to be an amazing boyfriend.”
“That word sounds horrific.”
I snort. “You’re horrible.”
“I bet I could change your mind,” his tone drops low with seduction.
“See,” I bounce my finger at him. “That right there is so unattractive. Win me over with your chivalry, your heart, your…I don’t know. Manners? Not your dick and its performance.”
Mirth glows from him. “You’ve always stood out, Meli. Never interested in what everyone else is and definitely not a follower.”
“Nor a whore,” I snicker.
“One day you’ll make a great wife.” He nudges me with his shoulder.
Except the husband I have now wants nothing to do with me… “Yeah. One day.”
Thankfully his number is called, and he says goodbye without any more advances as he heads to the counter to grab his food.
Running into Ricky made me s
top stressing about my grades. That’s until I walk through the door. My laptop sits open on the table in front of the recliner. It’s been almost an hour since I last checked, and suddenly, it feels like nothing else in this world matters as much as that grade.
I grab the mouse, hit the little browser refresh button, and hold my breath.
“Yes!” I shout into my empty room, my hands flinging to the ceiling. I do a little dance, shake my ass, and then drop into the recliner as if I’ve worked all day in the summer heat.
Me: I passed!
Kirsten: And you doubted yourself. Congrats!
Me: A few more weeks and this semester is in the bag.
SEVEN
We pulled into the track a day early and because of it, I have no obligations today. Nowhere I need to be, no sponsors to please, no team meetings, nobody beating down my doo—
There’s a knock on the bus door. I roll my eyes to the ceiling before leaning up from the couch to see Janet looking around nervously.
“What brings you by?” I ask pushing the door open.
“Are you alone?” Her tone is dubious as she takes a hesitant step up.
Janet is never nervous and rarely hesitant, so it sets off alarms in my head. I step out of her way, gesturing for her to enter. She opens her briefcase and pulls out a manila folder.
“This came in the mail a few days ago addressed to your publicist.” She holds out the folder for me. “Seems like Amelia has been trying to get ahold of you. Per her lawyer, after speaking with Norman to have you call her, the phone calls following have gone unanswered.”
She’s been trying to get ahold of me? I take the envelope and pull out the annulment papers. A crushing pressure threatens my chest, pushing on my lungs. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
What did I expect?
“Thank you, Janet.”
She reaches out, placing her hand on my arm with concern passing over her face. “Please don’t tell Norman I was here. He told me he would handle finding her. I had no idea he’d dodge the entire thing.”
Tightening my lips, I nod.