by Kat T. Masen
Shit! He had slugs all over his hands and now you’re letting him touch yours?
“That’s cheating,” Ash hurls at us while clutching his cue with a tight grip.
“What does Coach always say? There’s no ‘I’ in team, Ash,” Logan notes, the amusement lighting up his eyes.
“Fuck you! It’s like we’re back in middle school. The two of you ganging up on me when I wanted to dress as a cowboy for Halloween, and you guys wanted to be Power Rangers.”
“Dude, we were ten. Cowboys are for sissies and the last time I checked, your dick wants pussy only.”
I shake my head, motioning for them to stop. “Please don’t talk about Ash’s organs in any type of sexual way.”
“Like you’re one to talk, Carrington. How many chicks came back to your hotel at the airport?” Ash asks with a menacing gaze while spilling Logan’s dirty little secret.
Something holds back my laughter, watching Logan pause with a haunted smile. What a sleaze. Perhaps I wasn’t imaging his ass probe just then. I just didn’t expect it from him. Logan once told me he wouldn’t make me his girlfriend if I were the last girl on earth covered in bacon and cotton candy—his two favorite things.
“A gentleman never tells,” Logan answers in a decidedly odd tone.
“Bullshit. You’re just saying that in front of the girls. You told me they both blew you while you poured tequila all over their mouths.”
Logan’s face changes, almost to anger for bringing it up.
How our conversation has changed since the days since when we were little. We could spend hours talking about The X-Files and aliens roaming the earth, and now we’re talking about Logan being some sex god that got off on demeaning women. What the fuck?
“All right, can we move on? You’re both jerks and I need another drink,” I say. Yelling out to Harry for another round on me, he nods, but this time I swap beers and martinis for shots of tequila.
“Like you’re one to talk, Emmy. Have you seen the porn out there of you?” Logan snickers, continuing on, “Didn’t realize you were that kinky.”
In between my shocked expression Ash’s face quickly tightens with his eyes wide and full of rage.
“Firstly, Photoshop is a magical program if you know how to use it. Secondly, I’m not stupid… I would never pose nude. I learned my lesson the time I sunbathed in Greece and had an accidental nip slip. But hey, I didn’t know you like to Google naked images of me?” I reverse my shock and stare at Logan, battling with his gaze as neither one of us backs down.
“Harry,” Ash shouts, breaking the awkward stand-off between Logan and me.
Harry slides the tray of shots over the countertop. Alessandra’s quick to bring them over to us.
Ash puts a shot glass to his mouth, allowing it to linger while eyeing Logan. “Don’t ever talk about my sister that way. You got it?”
Logan grabs a shot, tilting his head to the side with a smirk. “Emmy’s a reality star. The whole world knows her business. Right, Emmy?”
“Fuck you,” I fume, downing a shot until the burning sensation halts my breathing for a second. My chest begins to burn as it slowly makes it way down but then disappears as the tequila warms my entire body. “You see what the producers want you to see. I’m not the same girl you once knew and watching me on TV doesn’t make you know me.”
Ash raises his glass in the air. “Okay, fuck! Can we seriously just toast to something? I’m sick of this bullshit. Let’s be us for the night.”
I nod in agreement, lifting another glass and raising it in the air. “To us... back together again. Except, no more pranks.”
“No more wet willies,” Logan adds, with a disgusted look directed at Ash.
“No more swapping your chocolate for laxatives,” Ash says plainly.
“That was you?” I turn to face him in shock. “I blamed Logan for that this entire time!”
“Who else knew you snuck chocolate into your room and ate it before bed?”
“Oh my God, Ash! Why couldn’t you be a normal brother and like read my diary or some shit?”
He places his hand on Logan’s shoulder, still holding the shot in his fingers. “I did read your diary...” he pauses for dramatic effect then continues, “Dear Diary, today I saw Logan take his shirt off at the pool. He had such big muscles and looked sooo hot...”
My face began to heat up, remembering the one time I wrote about Logan. One. Fucking. Time! I was fifteen and hormonal.
Yes, my hormones were cuckoo and smoking crack or something that day... month... year... whatever.
“I never said that.” I try to brush it off while keeping my cool.
“Aww… Emmy, did you have a crush on me?” Logan teases, placing his arm around me and kissing my cheek.
“No, you douche, I was merely pointing out your transition from puberty. Now, let’s drink.” I pull away, avoiding this uncomfortable conversation and downing the shot in one go.
My throat’s immune to the burn now, allowing the clear liquid to slide smoothly.
The boys are loud and making a scene while reminiscing about the first major soccer game they played when Ash pissed his pants on the field. Alessandra seems to enjoy the conversation, laughing along with us.
In the corner of my eye, the light of my cell illuminates my purse. It’s sitting at the top, within arm’s reach. Thinking it is Wes, I enter my passcode and see Nina’s name appear.
Nina: Call me NOW.
With my cell in hand, I tell them I need to make a call, moving my way through the deserted bar and outside where the noise has diminished. The air out here is much cooler, the darkness illuminated by the sign on Harry’s bar with one bulb flashing bright.
I dial her number quickly, waiting as the cell continues to ring.
“Emerson, we need to talk.”
“Okay,” I say. “We’re talking.”
“Something’s happened. And before I tell you what it is, I just want to say I’m sorry and you deserve better.” Her voice softens, almost into pity.
I laugh nervously through the receiver. “Let me guess, they canceled the show?”
“No. I just received a call and email from this guy who claims he’s part of that paparazzi mob in Europe who follow the Royal Family. It’s about Wesley.”
“What about him?” I ask, moving further away from the bar.
“He’s been photographed at Rogues. And the photos are not good.”
“Rogues? Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?” I raise my voice, frustrated and panicky. The alcohol isn’t helping me, amplifying my emotions and creating a monster ready to unleash.
“A brothel.”
“A brothel?” I repeat coldly. “So what exactly was he doing?”
“Emerson, I’m sorry.”
“Nina! What the fuck was he doing?”
She pauses, and in the background I hear my phone ding. Moving the cell away from my ear, I open the text message and see the photo she sent to me. I almost drop the phone, my hands are shaking and my heart’s pumping so loudly I think it’s going to explode all over the dirty pavement.
His body is positioned behind some woman, cock stuck inside her with some white substance laced all over her ass. There’s another woman in the photo, running her tongue along the other woman’s ass with a sensual gaze lingering.
My posture stiffens—arms rigid and shoulders squared as I stare into the darkness.
How dare he do this to me! I scream internally.
My voice is silenced by my clenched teeth, forcing me to remain quiet while processing my goddamn fucking life and how everything will change.
“Em… Emerson,” Nina yells through the speaker.
“I’m here,” I say just above a whisper while holding back the tears which are threatening to escape and rationalizing the anger that makes me want to rip his fucking soul out and feed it to coyotes.
“This is bad. I just want you to know that I’m in negotiation to keep this under wraps. I
t’s going to cost us.”
“Whatever. I’ll talk to you later, Nina. I need to go.” I have no energy or fight left within me, so I quickly terminate the call. With a sigh, I lean against the brick wall behind me.
I should have seen this coming.
All signs pointed to this.
I trusted him when my gut knew something was off. It never bothered me that women threw themselves at him online and when he was out in public. What bothered me was the way he would somehow be drawn to women at social functions where we both attended. I can’t remember the number of times I would catch him talking one-on-one with some woman who he claimed was nothing more than a friendly chat.
He was always on his phone and became snappy on occasions when I asked him what he was doing. The signs all pointed to him being an ass, and I don’t even know what hurts me more—his infidelity or the humiliation of the world finding out.
And they will find out.
Page six news—Wesley Rich Caught in a Hooker Drug Scandal.
Followed by the pity—Poor Emerson. She deserves better.
Then the trolls have their say—Serves her right for trying to change him and she got what was coming to her.
I stay outside for a good fifteen minutes, staring blankly at the ground. Dragging my feet along, I walk into the bar and plaster a fake smile calling Harry for another round. I know it’s not the best idea but the boys won’t know any different.
“Another round? Fuck. We haven’t drank this hard since the night I got hitched,” Ash says with a burp.
“The night you fucked up your life?” I say with a straight face staring my brother down.
“The night I fucked up my life? Wow! Thanks for the support, sis. Nice to know you have my back.”
“I don’t have your back. And even if you told me, I still wouldn’t have your back,” I raise my voice. “Marriage is for fools. Love is overrated, and you’ll probably get screwed over then come running back to Logan and me to fix all your fucking problems.”
Ash’s face falls then switches to anger as I don’t back off while I reflect my own troubles back onto him. I need a punching bag and my brother has the target smack bang in the middle of his face
“Are you done now?” he grits, standing beside Alessandra who looks disappointed by my outburst.
“Yeah, I’m done, Ash. Have a nice fucking marriage.” I grab my purse and storm out, searching around for something or someone to take me anywhere but here. There’s nothing in sight but a dark road and trees swaying in the shadows. I should be scared, but what’s out there lurking behind the shadows should be scared of me right now.
The sticks and stones beneath my feet crackle with every footstep, and just when I think I’m alone, I’m startled by the force of hands lifting me up and throwing me over a shoulder.
Logan.
Chapter Four
“Love is just one pile of bullshit.
And I’m the one who stepped in it.”
~ Emerson Chase
“What the hell happened back there?”
Wriggling my body out of his grip, Logan drops me to the ground as I tumble and manage somehow to not fall over on the dirt. The foliage beneath my feet crunches, echoing the silence that surrounds us.
My chest is heaving, with noisy breaths that exhale through my nose while the thumping inside—from a broken heart—fuels the adrenaline.
Why the fuck did Logan have to follow me?
I want nothing more than to be left alone and sob like a fool.
Refusing to answer him, I continue to storm off, the dirt and pebbles pushing into my brand-new wedges as my steps quicken hoping to escape him. There’s a narrow pathway where town folk often walk their dogs, and with the pale moon the only light guiding me, I follow my instincts until I reach the end of the trees with the lake in full view.
In the distance, there are speckles of lights from the few houses which surround it. It’s such a beautiful place and one that holds memories of my childhood. The three of us would ride our bikes into the same bush causing mischief like the rascals we were.
Dad would take the boat out, teaching Ash and me a thing or two about fishing. We enjoyed it until Dad showed us one day how to gut a fish which had me vomiting overboard—a very unpleasant memory.
Beside the rundown jetty which has many planks missing and shakes when you walk across, sits the giant rock we used to fight over. I don’t know why I gravitate toward it and find myself staring blankly. Then out of the blue, I raise my foot and kick it hard with the tip of my shoe.
Ouch.
“He’s an asshole,” I yell, hopping back trying to control the agony sweeping through my foot and up my leg.
Logan’s standing at the edge of the water with his arms folded and his eyes wandering the shoreline. His steady, muscular back is facing me and probably the best thing right now because I don’t want to look at him. He’s just as annoying as the rest of the men in my life.
“Yeah, sure I’ll admit he can be an asshole, but don’t you think you took it a bit too far?” he responds in an arctic voice but keeping his expression hidden. “He hurt me, too. This whole marriage thing may fuck up our game. You’re not the only one dealing with the ramifications of his actions.”
“You honestly believe all that rubbish? Falling in love? They knew from the start? C’mon, it’s impossible,” I ramble to myself as Logan quietly stands there in contemplation. “You can spend a whole lifetime knowing someone and still feel unsure if the love is there or is right. Two minutes in a bar and that person is your soulmate? Ludicrous.”
Logan turns his neck, body following until we’re facing each other. His presence radiates with superiority, just like when we were kids. I wasn’t afraid back then and I’m not afraid now. His tough-guy persona doesn’t scare me one bit.
“Hypocritical coming from someone engaged to a man that swore he fell in love with you the moment he saw you?” he questions, sarcasm lacing every word leaving his mouth.
The shock of his words cripples my ability to respond with a witty comeback. We aren’t having a good old laugh here, throwing worms in the bottom of Ash’s school bag anymore. And my initial reaction to his cruel words does nothing to calm the sea of emotions ravaging my insides. Logan Carrington is one of them. They all come from the same seed—the seed of men who feel entitled.
Screw a woman.
Move on.
Fuck feelings.
And repeat.
“Knock, knock... anyone home?”
“You’re a jerk,” I mutter as I walk past him and toward the unsteady old jetty which is swaying along with the tide. Standing at the beginning of the broken plank, I watch the dark, murky water while the weight of Wes’ actions begins to sink in. My shoulders fall, drooping and dragging the rest of my body down. My shaking hands move to the necklace sitting on my chest—a small heart Wes had given me on our first anniversary. Pulling the chain left and right, my anger overshadowing the hurt makes me remove the chain, and with one mighty yank it flies in the air and hits the water with a splash.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Taking giant steps toward me, Logan shouts through the quiet night, “You were fine until you checked your phone. Then you switched into queen bitch mode.”
My voice remains silent, ignoring his use of derogatory names.
“So what? You’re too good for us now?”
I spin around, matching his stance and moving closer to intimidate him. “I’m too good for you? How about the fact you guys think you’re too good for me? After all... you left me behind.” Sucking in a deep breath, I let it all go. “That call was my publicist. Wesley’s been caught fucking some hooker.”
His fiery, persistent stare turns to pity and the last thing I need is Logan’s pity.
“A hooker?”
“Hookers.” I laugh deliriously. “And sniffing coke off their asses. Because God forbid, you’ve got nowhere else to sniff that shit from.” My lips quiver, tears threatening to fa
ll. I don’t want to give Wes the satisfaction, but emotions are a powerful thing. When you think you’re strong and made out of steel, they’ll make you crumble and fall harder than you can possibly imagine.
I stare at my hands, watching them shake as that trapped tear falls down my cheek, followed by another then a stream. “I hate him!” I cry out desperately and unable to speak coherently. “The whole world will know what he did to me. I’m stupid. So… fucking… stupid… for ignoring every sign that stared me right in the fucking face.”
I fall to my knees, the cold dirt grazing them instantly. “Everyone told me to marry him. He wants to get married and have kids. We argue about that fact all the time. I don’t want kids yet. It’s why we got George.”
I gulp for air, sobbing uncontrollably. “He just kept pushing and telling me our brand is everything. I had no one to confide in. No one to tell me I’m a fucking idiot for believing all his goddamn lies.”
“Jesus, Emmy. Where’s your fucking backbone? Since when do you listen to a guy?” Logan criticizes me.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Mom knows most of it, but I’ve filtered out the horrible stuff. Like when he tried to switch my birth control pills to have me fall pregnant.”
Logan gazes at me with a pained expression, lips taut without saying a word.
“It was never about me. It was always about the network. They needed a storyline. When the ratings dipped slightly they wanted a scandal. What better scandal than two co-stars getting knocked up after only one season of filming?”
“So, why the fuck did you stay with him? Do you know how stupid it makes you look?”
Logan’s bluntness is exactly what I needed—two years ago. Right now though, his words hurt and my already-bruised ego can’t take any more. I want to crawl into a dark hole and forget the world exists. Pretend I have no life waiting or millions of fans watching my every move.
“You know what? You don’t care at all. You and Ash call yourself family, yet of the few times I’ve reached out to you, you guys don’t give a goddamn shit.”
“I could say the same thing,” he argues back.