“You could say that. She’s gone missing.” The lie slips out easily enough to this guy.
“Shit, I didn’t know that.”
“You didn’t know that she disappeared after you split?”
“Well, I knew she quit her job but I didn’t know she’d just gone. I figured she got another job and we didn’t end on good terms, so I didn’t really think anything of it.”
“So why did you split up?”
He leans back in his chair and rubs a hand across his mouth. “I found out something about her… let’s just say I didn’t like that I’d been lied to.”
“What was she lying about?”
“A lot of stuff, man. I mean, I thought she was this sweet waitress. But she had a past. I had no idea.”
“Peter, I’ve no idea what happened between you but she’s missing and could be in danger. I need to find her. You need to tell me everything.”
I hear him grinding his teeth but there’s calculation in his eyes, like he’s figuring out how much enjoyment he can get out of telling me his story. “Okay, so here it is. Jessica—the golden girl—was a porn star.”
My heart slams to a stop and I fight the urge to laugh. “What?”
“Yeah, I know, right? I’m assuming you’ve seen a picture of her. Cute, innocent looking. Turned out she was no better than a whore.”
That word makes me curl my hand around the arm of my chair but I somehow regulate my breaths and keep my face expressionless. I still need answers. Surely that can’t be right?
“How do you know this?”
“Look I watched porn okay? What guy doesn’t? You can imagine the surprise I had when I saw my girlfriend being banged by some guy on the internet. I confronted her and she admitted it. Said she’d been desperate and had only done a few videos—as if that made it better. I had ambitions and I couldn’t have a girlfriend like that.
My mind reels at the mental images his words produce. Jess—my Jess—fucking strange guys in front of cameras. It doesn’t compute, yet it works. Her work record is empty between running away from home and working at The Bell. Still, to go into porn? She just doesn’t seem the type.
“It was definitely her?” I ask again.
“For sure. She didn’t even try to deny it. Said she regretted it. That’s all very well but it was on the internet for everyone to see—under some God-awful name. Trinity Sparks, I think.”
“So,” my voice is strained, “you split after that?”
“Yeah. I don’t know where she went but I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her.”
“Did anyone else know about this?”
“Look, man, I didn’t keep quiet about it. She was lying to everyone. They had a right to know who they were really friends with.”
“Did you tell her boss?”
“No, but I didn’t need to. She quit anyway. She had everyone believing she was some sweetheart but really she was just a whore. Everyone was glad she left.”
Nausea crests in my gut and I release my death grip on the chair. “You didn’t hear from her again?”
“Nope, sorry.”
“Didn’t it ever occur to you that you may have contributed to her disappearance?”
“Look, Mr. O’Reilly, I wanted nothing more to do with her. She was a grown woman. She made her choices. If she wanted people to respect her, she should have thought more carefully before being paid to have sex.” He glances at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to work. If there’s nothing else…” He stands.
I shake my head numbly and stand too.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help but, really, Jessica got everything she deserved.”
Homeless, jobless, friendless. The thought of her performing for the cameras sickens me but did she deserve that?
Peter motions to the door. “I’ll show you out. If you ask me, she probably went back to performing or even became a stripper or something. That’s what everyone reckoned. Once a whore, always a whore.” He shrugs.
Red hot rage boils inside me and before I know what I’ve done, my fist is throbbing and Peter has fallen over one of the chairs and is sprawled on the floor clutching his nose.
“What the fuck, man?”
I don’t say anything else. Don’t trust myself to. Before he can get to his feet, I’m out the door and gone. Maybe he’ll press charges, but I doubt it. He’d have to explain what we were talking about. I get on my bike, gun the engine and drive like a madman until I’m close to home.
I don’t know if I can face her.
My hands are shaking as I pull into a lay-by, turn off the engine and yank out my phone. I keep trying to picture Jess as a porn star but I can’t. Either I don’t want to or Peter is wrong. But if she really was a porn star, it explains her change in appearance and her secrecy.
Heart in my throat, I pull up the browser on my phone, grateful for a decent signal. It takes me several tries to type Trinity Sparks into the search engine. I gulp as hits come up, my insides bunching. Most of the sites want payments but a few show clips. I close my eyes and press play. Opening them, bile rises in my throat as a cute blonde stands in front of the camera, already in skimpy underwear. There’s no tattoo on her arm but there’s no doubting she’s a grown up version of the kid in the photo I have and it’s a blonde version of Jess.
She starts peeling off her bra and I jab stop. “Shit. Motherfucker.”
Chapter Twelve
Jess
When Hunter doesn’t turn up to meet me after work, my stomach bunches. Has something happened? Is he hurt? Today was uneventful. No messages, not even any strange phone calls. I’m beginning to believe this crazy person has lost interest. Maybe Hunter has too but that doesn’t sit right. Mitch couldn’t be here today so Hunter left me with the usual warnings. Be careful, don’t go anywhere alone. So why am I alone now?
I tug my phone out of my bag and skim down to Hunter’s number. My thumb shakes as I press call. I’d spent all day looking forward to seeing him and wondering if he felt the same. It feels so natural to be around him, even with everything I’m hiding, because although I’m keeping my past from him, I’m aware he sees through me. He might not understand what I’ve been through but I have this feeling he knows me. If anyone gets my determination to create a better life for myself it’s Hunter. His mother did the same for him.
The phone rings and goes to answer phone. I scan the street and search for his bike or car but there’s no sign. I try calling him again but it goes to voicemail once more. Worry threads tightly through me, makes my skin hot. Something has to have happened to him. Hunter is never late. From what I’ve learned of him, I don’t think he knows how to be. He’s so meticulous and in control.
I try again. If I don’t get through to him this time, I’ll get the tube to his place and leave him a voicemail. A click. I hold my breath.
A gruff voice. “Yeah?”
“Hunter?” His sharp tone throws me off.
“What?”
“Are you picking me up from work today?” How needy do I sound? I cringe.
I hear him sigh. “Look… you’re going to have to find your own way home.”
“Okay… where are you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps. “Perhaps you should just go back to your place, Jess.”
My heart constricts. “Hunter, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just… just go home.”
“I thought you said I was in danger. I’ve been looking over my shoulder every two minutes because of you. What’s changed?”
“I was wrong, I guess. Nothing else has happened, has it? It’s time you went home.” He sounds sullen.
“What about my stuff?”
“I’ll have Mitch bring it over. In fact—”I hear him swear softly “—just wait there. I’ll send him to get you.”
“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”
I search the previous day for clues, explore his words for an idea as to why he’s dismissing me. Is it our growing c
loseness? God knows, I was on the verge of something. I’m not sure what. Believing there was a chance for us, perhaps, no matter how ridiculous it sounds. And if anyone was interested, it was Hunter. I was the one fighting him off, not the other way around. So why the sudden change?
“This was a big fucking mistake, Jess. Wait for Mitch.”
Tears blur my vision. Traffic passes by, a haze of colours, and my throat hurts. “What do you mean, a mistake? You pushing me to stay with you? Or you pressing me to spend time with you? Kissing me was a mistake? Touching me?” Hysteria inches into my voice.
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done any of it. Just fucking wait there.”
“Fuck you, Hunter.” I hang up, bruised and battered inside. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I swipe away the forming tears.
If I only knew why the sudden change, that might help. I snort. Who am I kidding? Hunter’s company has become an addiction. I don’t care why he’s behaving like he is. I want him. Want him so bad, my body aches for him. I make my way to the tube station, not caring when people push and shove me. I thought the worst thing that could happen would be someone finding out the truth about me, but I’m not so sure now.
On the crowded train, with the scent of sweat filling my nostrils, I try to summon some kind of inner strength—the one that pushed me to run away from home and find my own way in life. But my own way led me down a terrible path. Starving, homeless and scared, I got suckered into the porn industry. And I wasn’t alone. So many of the girls were there for the same reason. Single mums trying to feed their kids, women who had nowhere else to go, girls trying to fund their college fees. The industry took advantage of that—advantage of me.
Apparently I’m not as far removed from that person as I’d hoped. It took a few kind words and I was pulled in again—this time by Hunter. He stripped me bare and has left me with nothing. I draw in a breath and grip the bar. No, not nothing. I have my job. I will have to face him again soon too. I’ll get some answers then. If he believes I’m not in trouble, he must be right. I’ll forget Hunter O’Reilly and move forward with my plan. Work hard, save up, rent a nice place and remain alone. If I didn’t learn from the last time a man hurt me, I’ll remember this.
By the time I get to my apartment, Mitch is waiting outside, tapping his feet impatiently as he leans against his Jeep. I eye the attractive man and hope I don’t look as wrecked as I feel. “What are you doing here?”
“Hunter sent me. I did stop by the bank but you were gone. Figured you had headed straight home."
“What’s going on, Mitch? Hunter said I’m not in danger so why are you here?”
He shifts from foot to foot and unfolds his arms. “You’d have to ask Hunter about that. I’m going to stick around for a few days.”
“Seriously?”
Mitch opens the car and hands me my canvas bag. I take it and sniff. He offers me a look of sympathy that threatens to crack my composure.
“Hunter has been through a lot of crap recently. Give him a few days. He’ll figure it out.”
“Is it the house?”
Mitch scowls. “What?”
“Him losing the house. Does he blame me?”
“Why would he blame you?”
“The bank is trying to repossess his house. The bank I work at.”
Mitch curses under his breath. “I didn’t know that. Guess that explains a lot.”
“Does it?” I clutch my bag to me.
“I knew he was under strain and struggling financially but I didn’t realize it was that bad. Hunter’s not exactly the type to talk about his troubles.”
“He told me some of it.”
“Well, you’re the exception it seems.” Mitch glances around. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I don’t like having you out in the open.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” I huff as a nervous prickle skips up my spine. Whether it’s paranoia or not, I still can’t shake the feeling of being watched. I can’t keep feeling like this. “Go home.”
“Jess, you could be in danger. Hunter—”
“Hunter isn’t here!” I draw in a breath. “You must have a life, Mitch. I appreciate your help, I really do. I mean you barely know me and you’ve been really great, but you can’t follow me around for the rest of your life.”
“It’s not a hardship. I don’t mind keeping an eye out for you. This is not just a favour to Hunter. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”
“You’re a really good guy… but I’m not going to spend who knows how long looking over my shoulder. I’m fed up with being followed and nothing else has happened.”
“I don’t know. Hunter will kill me if anything happens to you.”
“Hunter clearly doesn’t care!” I snap. “Anyway, the letters were just some weirdo and the car and backfiring and stuff was a coincidence. Have you honestly seen anything suspicious these past few days?”
“No,” he grumbles.
“See, I’ll be fine. Hunter was being paranoid.”
“He has been pretty unhinged,” he admits.
“Go home, Mitch. You don’t need to look after me.”
He stares me down and I lift my chin. I’m fed up with men telling me what to do. I’ve put myself on the line one too many times recently and where has that led me? To heartache and confusion.
“Go home or I’ll call the police and tell them you’re harassing me.”
His brows rise. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.”
I see his chest heave with a deep breath and he backs away. “Fine. But call me if you need anything. I’m serious.”
“I won’t need anything,” I tell him confidently. I don’t need anything or anyone.
***
I lie in bed and lift my phone. No calls. Nothing. That familiar ache eats away inside of me. I glance at the time. I need to get ready for work but after a week and a bit of nothing—no word from Hunter—it’s getting harder to drag myself out of bed.
I snatch the phone again and find the last message he sent me. It’s easy enough to find seeing as hardly anyone has my number apart from him. My heart throbs painfully as I skim the words, searching for some kind of hidden message, for some reason why he would have disappeared. What did I do? Am I a terrible kisser? Awful company? Did I seem as desperate as I felt for him? Was it the whole house situation?
Be safe, princess.
Princess. Weird how that drove me mad and now I crave it. I need to hear him say it in that deep tone that rolls through me. I scrape a hand through my hair, push myself up and fling the phone onto the bed. Nausea rolls in my stomach. Or maybe hunger? I haven’t exactly been eating well. I can’t seem to bring myself to. I need to get a grip. Where has my determination to carve a better life for myself gone? It’s late afternoon on Saturday and I’m still in bed.
It went with Hunter it seems—a man I really didn’t know all that well.
I’m an idiot.
Thrusting one heavy leg out of bed, then the other, I stagger to the bathroom and get ready for work. I throw myself under a scalding shower and lean against the cold tiles, and pray the contrast pulls me out of my lethargy. This isn’t me—this moping, lovesick shell of a person. I wrap my arms around myself and dig my nails into my sides until it hurts. I need to feel something. This empty pain inside is driving me insane. Why did I not listen to my instincts and keep Hunter out of my life? Everything was going fine until he turned up. I might not have had the most exciting life, I might even have been lonely, but I was fine. Anything is better than what I feel now—this hollowness in my stomach that tells me he realized I wasn’t worth his time.
I flick off the shower, wrap a towel around me and one around my hair too. I try not to picture how he looked at me. And how he touched me. Am I just really stupid? I don’t get it. Everything he did had me convinced he wanted me. Everything he said did too. And me being an idiot, wanted to believe him.
I do my make-up mechanically, perfecting my mask. It doesn’t feel so impor
tant now. Who cares if someone recognizes me? I don’t think it will hurt as badly as this does. I give myself a mental slap and slick on some dark lip gloss. It matters because you wanted a fresh start, I remind myself. A good job, a home of your own. A steady, predictable life. Hunter had to burst his way in and ruin that, didn’t he?
Heading back to my bedroom, I drop the towel and dress. Almost all the clothes I own remind me of Hunter. I can hardly afford to replace everything so I’m stuck. I pull on my leather trousers and a tank top, and mentally chastise myself for being such an idiot.
A shiver trails down my spine when I unwrap the towel from around my hair and run a brush through it. I walk over to the window and peer through the slight gap in the curtains. A car drives off from the front of the building—a red sports car. Nothing weird about that, so why do I have this strange feeling in my stomach? Was I hoping it might be Hunter having changed his mind about us?
Dropping the hair brush on my side table, I twist it into a bun and secure it with an elastic. I pause and eye the drawer with the painkillers. It would be so easy to do that again. Just to numb the pain for a while and block out the bad memories. First my uncle, then the porn producers and now Hunter.
With a shake of my head, I stride into the kitchen area and pull out a box of bargain brand cornflakes. No, I can’t go down that road again. I eat half of my breakfast over the counter, hoping to stave off that niggling ache that tells me I need something more, something to dull my senses, but my appetite is shot and I dump the rest in the sink.
Why did I finally risk opening myself up just the tiniest bit? I should have kept myself locked away, like I had been doing. That had worked hadn’t it—keeping people out of my life?
Unfortunately, Hunter made me realize how pathetic my life was—is.
I flick on the coffee pot. Time to forget Hunter and move on. I’d been doing fine without him before. Maybe this is what I needed to remind myself why I’d avoided men this whole time. You can’t trust anyone, especially the male of the species. Thank goodness I didn’t get to deep and do something stupid like… like fall in love with him.
My lips tingle in remembrance as I pour the coffee. My body clenches. Eyes that changed in different lights flicker through my mind and strong hands, brooding glances and beautifully blunt compliments swarm my memory. Taking a quick sip of the scalding liquid, I grimace and throw it in the sink before grabbing my handbag and jacket.
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