“Nothing could possibly go wrong with that.” His voice dripped sarcasm.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Bailey was all over it ’cause he thought he’d score with Annabelle. He had her number and arranged the tickets for her, and that’s how I finally reconnected with Clio.”
“You’ve still got it bad for her.”
I blew out a breath. “Yeah.”
He zeroed in on the obvious question. “Why haven’t you gotten Annabelle’s number from Bailey?”
“I did, and I called her, but she won’t give me Clio’s number.”
“Why not?” One dark eyebrow rose. “She pissed about how her night with Dakota ended and taking it out on you?”
“That wouldn’t be a surprise.” I huffed out a mirthless laugh. “But no. Turns out Clio told her not to give it out, and Annabelle’s being all loyal or some shit.”
“Listen, buddy, we’ll figure out some way for you to contact your girl.” Tron hauled himself up out of his chair and grinned at me. “In the meantime, could you at least try to act like a human being sometimes? I mean, after everything you’ve told me, I get your bad mood and all. But this music gig is supposed to be fun.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “We have a night off. Let’s go grab dinner and some beers and see what else this town has to offer.”
I shot him a look.
He held up his hands. “Not girls. Maybe we can catch a pro game or something. It’s Sunday. We’ll have Garrett make some calls, see who’s playing, score us some tickets.”
I couldn’t decide if Tron’s good nature or the talking had lightened my mood, but for the first time since I’d walked out of the bathroom into an empty hotel suite in Denver, I felt better.
I grinned back at him. “What the fuck. Besides, Garrett needs to earn that manager’s salary we pay him. Let’s see if there’s a football game in town tonight.”
Chapter Nine
Clio
I plopped down on a chair in the common room of the sorority. “Well, that’s the first thing I can cross off my list,” I said to Stacy.
“What did you do today? Find an apartment?”
“Almost as good. I found a job. I start the weekend after Thanksgiving actually, which is pretty decent considering I have no employment history.” Privately, I wondered about anyone hiring me with my complete lack of understanding about what it meant to work. Of course, in short order, I was going to find out exactly what it was to have a schedule and hope for extra hours like several of my friends seemed to do.
“Rich girls aren’t supposed to work. Didn’t you learn anything in finishing school?” she sassed with an impish grin at me over the top of her sociology book.
Melodramatically, I threw my arm across my forehead. “I flunked finishing school. Another reason Meredith despaired of me.” I sighed.
Though it was easy to make fun, the truth was my only real skills outside of studying were the kinds of things Meredith and her country club ladies cared about—knowing where the dessert spoon went, which fork to use for which course, how to say hello to the queen. None of which would keep me fed, clothed, and housed now that the Barneses withheld their money.
Mentioning my egg donor’s name left a dull ache in my chest. Which was a ginormous improvement over the stabbing pain piercing my heart when I told my friends almost two months ago that Harrison and Meredith had disowned me. I think it was a full month after that terrible night before my heart climbed out of my stomach where it landed when they kicked me out of their lives. After another month of twenty-four-hour anxiety, I’d finally started working on what I needed to learn and do to survive on my own. Lucky for me, I had my sorority sisters who rallied around me and went to work to help me figure out what I had to do for myself and my baby after the Barneses jettisoned me from their lives.
Stacy let her book thunk to the table. “So, where are you working?”
Puffing out my chest, I pointed to myself and said, “You’re looking at the new night desk clerk at the freshman dorm.” Before she could open her mouth, I preempted her next question. “Yes, I told my supervisor I was pregnant when I interviewed, and he hired me anyway.”
A genuine smile lit up my friend’s face. “That’s great, Clio. Congratulations.”
“The best part is after I have it, I can bring the baby with me to work. Since I’ll be giving birth between spring and summer semesters, I’ll even have a little time off without having to inconvenience anyone with trading shifts or anything. It’s pretty sweet.”
Though I was nearly four months along, I had yet to show. All those hours at the barre when I was growing up followed by three years of workouts in the weight room had kept my abs tight in spite of my growing baby. Last week was the first time I’d had to pop the top button of my jeans. Weekend and overnight desk clerking meant it was unlikely anyone would notice my pregnancy even after my belly gave the appearance that I’d swallowed a basketball.
“Will you make enough to cover your expenses?”
Since Harrison and Meredith had cut me loose, my practical friends who hadn’t grown up in a mansion with servants and access to a platinum credit card in their name had been teaching me how to budget and live within a limited income. So far, I’d been a quick study, walking to places I’d normally drive and skipping morning lattes. Though I hated to admit it, those changes made me feel physically better, ameliorating some of my morning sickness. Without access to a credit card, it went without saying that my shoe-shopping binges were over.
Thanks to Hutchins’s advice, I’d rescued my savings account, though it wouldn’t be enough by itself to see me through nearly two years of school—even with my scholarships.
“It pays minimum wage and is only twenty hours a week, which is about as much as I can handle and still keep my grades up, I think.” Honestly, having never had a job before, I didn’t have a clue if I could handle it. But I also didn’t have a choice. The Barneses saw to that when they disowned me.
“Face it, Clio. You’re going to have to join the rest of us poor saps and take out a loan. You can come with me to the financial aid office tomorrow since I need to meet with my advisor there anyway.”
“I didn’t know you had a loan, Stacy.”
Having had access to Harrison Barnes’s money all my life had evidently made me a snob who didn’t notice other people’s money issues. My heart slammed into my ribs. How would I ever repay a loan on minimum wage?
“It’s actually not something one advertises, especially when one lives in a sorority, Clio.” She quirked a brow. “Let’s keep it that way.”
A flush heated my neck and cheeks.
Mercifully, Stacy changed the subject. “About Thanksgiving. You’re still planning to come home with me, aren’t you?”
“You sure it’s all right with your parents? I won’t be in the way or anything?”
“You won’t be in the way.” Her sigh sounded a touch exasperated. “My mother will smother you. My little brother will fall madly in love with you. My dad will only pay attention to you if you make the mistake of walking in front of the television, impeding his view of the Lions-Packers game.”
“Thanks,” I said laughing. “Your family sounds wonderful.”
Her wistful smile tore at my insides. “They truly are. It’s going to be so much fun sharing them with you.”
I made an excuse about studying so I could exit the room before she caught me tearing up. Though I blamed pregnancy hormones, I knew her generosity lay at the heart of my emotions. That and the fear about money issues swirling through my head.
For the first time since I discovered my pregnancy, I wondered how I was truly going to do it all—work, go to school, be a mom. I didn’t have the first clue. As I raced up the stairs to my room, I willed my thoughts to slow down. Sagging against my closed door, I struggled to hold back the tears demanding to fall.
One thing at a time. I had a job. I still had a roof over my head. I had somewhere to go for the holid
ays. It was going to be all right. It had to be.
From the moment I’d joined the sorority, I’d kept myself a little apart from the other girls in the house. Making friends had always been a struggle for me. Growing up with people as monied and cold as Harrison and Meredith Barnes had taught me not to trust in relationships. It seemed whenever I formed one with a maid or more importantly, a nanny, that person would disappear from my life. The only constants I had were Hutchins, our butler, and Baxter, our chef, both of whom were masterfully circumspect about doling out their affection for me.
Thinking about Baxter brought to mind his secret recipe for sugar cookies, and I determined I’d make a batch to take to Stacy’s for Thanksgiving. As thank-you gifts went, it wouldn’t be much. However, I was learning that money was expensive but maybe not nearly as valuable as the things it couldn’t buy. Like friendship and love and character. Besides, outside of pouring a bowl of cereal or shaking salad from a bag, Baxter’s cookies were the only food item I knew how to make.
Pushing away from the door, I took two steps across my room, dropped down on my bed, and thought about the last time I baked cookies. For Jack. For Valentine’s Day. A lifetime ago. Before Red Rocks, I’d convinced myself Jack had some character. His popularity in high school stemmed not only from his incredible musical skills but also from the way he treated people. He genuinely seemed to like them as he went out of his way to laugh and joke with everyone. It’s how he’d convinced me to go out with him the first time. Now I wondered if I projected good qualities onto him because he was so gorgeous and talented and paid so much attention to me. Maybe he really was like so many of the others, pretending an interest in me that only went as far as Harrison Barnes’s bank accounts.
A derisive laugh snorted out of me to echo in the silence of my room. Obviously, he didn’t need Harrison’s money now—how ironic Jack and I had switched places. Now he had all the wealth while I had to be ever so careful with every dime. Considering my finances caused me to wonder whether I might have to improvise Baxter’s cookies if his secret ingredients exceeded my budget.
Even visions of sugar cookies couldn’t stop intrusive thoughts about the night of the concert when I’d given Jack everything—my friendship, my love, my body. Maybe the draw for him had only been to put another notch on his headboard. He’d finally managed to bed his old high school sweetheart, the rich man’s daughter—notch—now he could move on. Too bad I couldn’t move on too. My inability to leave the past behind didn’t have as much to do with the little life growing inside me as with the memories of the night Jack and I had spent together.
His strong, muscular body moving over mine, initiating me so blissfully into the mystery of sex. His possessive expression when he realized what he’d done. His musky male smell that invaded my senses. The way he brought my skin to life when he skimmed his calloused hands over me. What had happened between us was so much more for me than experiencing sex for the first time. What we did could only be described as making love. At least for me.
He said the guys in the band called him the monk because he didn’t bang groupies, but the evidence in his room suggested otherwise. The readily available condom in his wallet and the drawer full of them in the nightstand beside the bed should have alerted me that I was just another willing body for him. Never mind that phone call.
Jack had tripped me up in high school, and I’d never fully regained my footing. The night of the concert proved that. One look at him, and I couldn’t breathe. One touch, and I only pretended not to follow him. One kiss, and I willingly gave him everything he wanted. What troubled me most about it all was I feared if he walked through my door today, I’d repeat all my mistakes, give him everything all over again.
Jesus, what was wrong with me?
When it came to Jack Whitehorse, my lack of self-control proved I’d done the right thing by blocking him from my life. Clearly, I couldn’t trust him—and I couldn’t trust me either.
Play For Me Page 9