by Kat T. Masen
“Wow... that’s so close.” She hides her gulp behind her glass of water.
“What? You don’t want Ash and me around?”
“You’re both kinda annoying.”
“We’re not cool enough for her, eh bro?” Ash picks his up his fork, scooping another piece of chicken and smothering it in sauce. “We don’t know for sure yet. We find out in a few months or something. Anyway, what are you up to tonight?”
Emmy lifts the napkin to her mouth, wiping her chin. My gaze instinctively shifts to her pout—full, soft, and inviting—covered in a glistening red shade of lipstick. Despite them being twins, she looks nothing like Ash. He looks like a dork with his crew cut and semi-broken nose. She is gorgeous. Pale skin with a few freckles scattered on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are blue, this bright blue that makes it difficult to concentrate if you stare into them. She’s always had long lashes and was teased in school for them being fake. I remember she wanted to prove the bullies wrong and plucked them out in front of them. They brushed it off like it was nothing until she flipped her eyelids inside out and terrified the older boys. They called her the spawn of the devil and she lapped it up using it as her weapon against them from that moment on.
“There’s a party on tonight. One of my friends is hosting it… Scarlett Winters? You might have heard of her.”
Ash and I simultaneously turn our heads to look at each other. Is she fucking kidding me? Scarlett fucking Winters. Ash had repeatedly told me he jerked off to her tits every night. He dreamt that one day he would motorboat them and it would end with his cum all over her face. Crude but so very Ash.
“You never told me you’re friends,” Ash quickly reprimands her.
“Yeah, and I never told you that Logan was the one who told Mom you screwed that older lady down the street when you were eighteen.”
I kick her under the table until she jumps. “Way to throw me under the bus.”
She points her fork at me deadpan. “You’re a tattletale.”
I place my glass down, leaning my elbows on the edge of the table. “I’m a tattletale? I don’t think so.”
“You told him I slept with the guy from the burger joint.”
I exhale. “Ash was adamant he’d hocked loogies in his burger. I did that simply to prove him wrong.”
Ash shakes his head disapprovingly. “Honestly Emmy, that guy was a geek.”
“You told Ash I was the one who spiked his drink with drowsy cough syrup because I didn’t want him to chaperone me to that party.”
Again, I exhale but much longer this time. “I wanted to go to that party too, but knew you wouldn’t listen to me when the fucking bottle came out. Who plays spin the bottle anymore? Dumbest game ever.”
“Dumb?” She laughs. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. Your first kiss was at sixteen playing that game with that Debbie something-or-other. I can’t believe you were sixteen when you got your first kiss. Talk about frigid.”
Raising my eyebrows, I question her casually pretending it’s not true. “Why would you say that? That’s not true.”
Ash clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. The little fucker had to open his big fucking mouth. When I was younger I was terrified of girls. I only kissed Debbie because of peer pressure and everyone calling me gay.
“Did you know Ash fucked your best friend Riley on your bed during one of your sleepovers?”
Her face pulls back in utter shock. “What? Where the hell was I?”
“You were in the basement with me. I needed waffles and you were trying to find the waffle maker then we got distracted with the fake spider I planted on top of the waffle maker.”
“I nearly died,” she whispers to herself. “And it explains why Riley complained all night that the room was hot in the middle of winter.”
“You didn’t almost die.” I roll my eyes in frustration. “It was fake. And what’s the worst thing a spider can do to you?”
“Kill you,” Emmy and Ash say in unison.
The both of them are petrified of spiders. A reason why Ash hates the thought of traveling to Australia to play the summer games.
“So, this party tonight? Can we come?” I switch the subject, knowing the spider talk doesn’t ease their anxiety.
“I don’t think so,” she answers instantly.
“Why not?” I question, the same time Ash puts on his whiney face.
“I don’t know because it’s a Hollywood party and the cameras are following me around tonight. Trust me, it can get rather annoying.”
What a stupid response. The cameras follow us all the time when we play. The games are all televised being shown nationally and internationally. They film everything down to every move, including when I’d been caught out many times in a heated argument with the referee and sent off for mouthing off.
And then it clicks.
If the cameras are following her, Wesley Rich will be there.
I’ve never met him. I know he comes with a silver spoon in his mouth from the many husbands his mother has screwed and then walked down the aisle with. Of his behavior I’ve seen on television, he’s a fucking jerkoff. Something about his attitude gets under my skin.
When Ash told me that Wesley and Emmy were dating, I was surprised she’d stoop that low. He enjoyed his women and was known to toss them out when he was done.
Apparently, she tamed him.
“Will Wesley be there?”
She keeps her head down, swirling the food on her plate. “Yes.”
“Who cares, Emmy! I’m bored. Plus, I need some head to relieve the tension,” Ash whines.
It catches her attention with a reactive response. “Uh-uh… you’re married. Don’t go screwing things up. We don’t need any more scandal in our lives.”
“What are you talking about? There’s no scandal,” he corrects not knowing about Wesley’s indiscretions. I hadn’t said anything to him, keeping my promise to her intact. “And a hand-job doesn’t count. It’s not cheating.”
I try to keep a straight face but let out a laugh. We’ve had this conversation numerous times and I agreed it doesn’t count.
“It counts. Believe me. Seriously, you’re an idiot,” she tells him without emotion. “You can come... on one condition.”
I shake my head glancing at Ash. “Here we go. What?”
“You don’t touch any women and they don’t touch you.”
“Fine,” Ash agrees, wincing and letting out another loud belch. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” He bolts off to the restroom leaving the two of us alone at the table. The remaining patrons have vacated the premises, leaving only the two of us and the waiter in the room.
“So, does that rule count for me? Or am I free to do whoever I please?”
She glances up from her plate, her blue eyes wild and staring at me with curiosity. “You’re free to do whoever you please. You’re not tied to anyone.”
“I’m not,” I say freely, keeping my gaze fixed. “So, what’s the deal with you and Wesley?”
“No deal. We’re just filming.”
“As a couple?”
“For the sake of the network. Yes.”
“But you live together?”
“Technically, yes.”
I remain quiet, unsure of why my heart rate spikes and why my fist is clenched on the table. She stares blankly. The unanswered questions swirling in my mind drive me to the brink of insanity, but I have no right to put her on the spot because she has her life and I have mine.
“Go on. Ask the question. You want to know if we’re still sleeping in the same bed or if I’m fucking him. Right?” She waits for my response, irritated we’re even talking about this. “The answer is no, Logan. I don’t fuck him.”
“I never asked.”
“I can see it burning on the tip of your tongue. He cheated on me. He was the one who broke our relationship,” she reminds me.
“Interesting. Were you not the one who just told Ash that hand-jobs are classed as cheat
ing?”
“Yeah, so?” She shrugs.
I lean in closer, purposely making her uncomfortable. “So, me fingering that tight little pussy of yours is not cheating?”
I expect her to blush, squirm in her seat, and make this moment awkward. But of course, Emerson Chase has to have the last word, the only woman to never back down. “In my mind we were already broken up. So, get off your high horse because you getting me off meant nothing more than that.”
Fuck. Me.
Ash thunders back complaining that his ass will be burning for days, and now he knows what it feels like when women complained his dick’s too big.
It’s enough for Emmy to almost throw up on the table.
We call for the check before making our way outside. There’s two men wearing baseball caps standing on the opposite side of the road. They keep to themselves though look in our direction every few seconds. LA is swarming with paparazzi, it’s one of the reasons why I hate visiting the place.
We chat briefly about tonight with Emmy agreeing to pick us up at eight. The network’s organized a limo expecting a huge viewership of this episode. She told us she’ll need to let them know we’re riding, and if the footage is to air it will require our consent as well.
Ash hurries the conversation, climbing into the car, rushing to get back to the hotel in case his ass explodes again. We take off and with Ash’s erratic driving, I should offer to take the wheel considering this is a rental. He seems to know his way around, ignoring the GPS and cussing at drivers who are observing the actual speed limit.
Emmy’s been the only girl to ever challenge me. She knows how to get to me and her comment in the restaurant doesn’t leave me so easily. I know I’m competitive, but my desire to make her squirm overtakes any rational thoughts I once had about Emerson Chase.
Me: Tell me something, Emerson Chase. Would me fucking you also be classed as nothing more?
That will put her in her place. I really wish there’s some sort of visual contact so I can see her face turn bright red.
Emerson: I don’t know Logan Carrington. Give it a try and see how you go.
I stare at my phone, almost gulping as I read the message. It’s not like it took her minutes to respond where she had time to think about it—that reply was instantaneously.
My fingers can’t type because I’m confused and unsure of how to respond. All I can think about is thrusting my cock inside her. Placing my lips on her clit and tasting her sweet pussy once I’ve blown inside her. All the things you shouldn’t be thinking about because the man beside you is your best friend, her brother.
I place my cell in my pocket avoiding any further contact for now, at the same time Ash swerves into a gas station and runs for his life, leaving me alone in the car.
The temptation’s too high.
And so, I type...
Me: You’re asking me to do something dangerous, Emerson. If you know me, you know I never back down from a challenge.
The bubble lingers for what feels like minutes. Ash walks out of the restroom with a relieved look on his face. He climbs into the car and gives me a rundown about how dirty it was inside, and how his ass is literally burning, and he doesn’t think he can go out tonight. I’m half paying attention to him until her message appears on my screen.
Emerson: Ditto.
“Can you believe Emmy telling me not to score tonight?”
Yes, I can. Emmy has always believed that if you commit to something you have to stick it through. Relationships are no different. And despite her telling us the ins and outs of cheating, she knows very well what she’d done with me was wrong.
It was nothing more than a lover’s revenge.
Driven by anger, hurt, and wanting to make Wesley Rich feel as small as she was feeling.
I should walk away. Remove myself from this tangled web.
But I want in.
All in.
I want her revenge and everything that comes with it.
Chapter Ten
“One of the deadliest combinations is
butterflies and jealousy.
Then, you know your heart’s in real trouble.”
~ Emerson Chase.
Logan’s last message renders me speechless. I know him well enough not to back down. Play the game and you won’t look like the fool who got jealous when you threw in that comment of him fucking all of Hollywood.
I’m standing in my wardrobe wearing my black-laced bra and matching panties, wondering what I should wear tonight. I really don’t want Ash and Logan to come, but I felt like I was backed into a corner. It’s not that I don’t enjoy their company. I just know Wes can be a dick and he’s never met Logan which means he will go out of his way to be an even bigger dick.
The texts between us are fun, but I’ve left it at that. Logan’s never showed interest in me before the night at the lake, and these flirtatious conversations are merely a part of everyday life from a man with a long belt. At least that’s what I continue to tell myself.
The black off-the-shoulder dress is calling my name, paired with some heels which lace all the way up my legs stopping just underneath my knees. I place the shoes on first, knowing it’s a mission to get these laces tied up. As gorgeous as they are they’re a massive pain in the ass to get on.
My cell is lying on the white carpet beneath my feet. Leaning down, I notice Mom’s name flash on the screen.
“What’s up, Mom? I’m literally knee-deep in this leather heel that’s a blessing and curse.”
“Are those the ones you wore to that award show where that rapper gave you his number, and you had to tell him he had food stuck in his grill?”
“Your attention to detail is priceless, Mom.” I laugh. “And yes, they’re the hooker heels.”
“Must be a special occasion.”
“Just a party at Scarlett’s house. Did I tell you Ash and Logan are coming?”
I hear the pause, followed by the sound of the oven timer chiming in the background.
“Your brother will be the death of me. Did I tell you I had a lengthy conversation with Alessandra, or how he likes to call her, Sandy?”
“Was it over the wet towels on the bed?” I cringe because my brother’s a slob. “Or how he cuts his toenails in bed?”
“It was over them having an argument when he left. It seems she doesn’t understand his lifestyle. The traveling part. I tried to explain it without getting involved. The last thing I want to be known as is the nosey mother-in-law.”
“How about the mother-in-law who writes about cowboys getting it on in the barn with the farmer’s wife?”
“You laugh now, but that bestseller paid for your ballet lessons which you gave up after one recital,” she points out.
“Yeah, yeah… thanks, Mom,” I tease gently. “Listen, I have to go. Wish me luck.”
“Luck?” she questions. “With what, kid?”
Dammit. I haven’t been honest with Mom about what happened with Wesley. Every time she brings him up, I quickly answer then steer the conversation to a different subject. I don’t know why I struggle with it. Usually, I tell her everything. A part of me honestly believes if I told her the truth, it will make it harder to live a lie in front of the cameras.
“Things have been difficult between Wesley and me. I hope tonight we can relax,” I half admit.
“I figured that,” she soothes over the phone. “I’m here, kid. No judgment. Okay?”
“I know, Mom.”
We hang up the call and I feel a bit better about how I left things with us.
With my shoes now on, I slip into my dress when Wesley walks in. He knows better than to walk in unannounced but disregards my wishes, standing behind me wearing his designer jeans and a dark gray shirt with his sleeves rolled up.
I hate that a part of me still desires him. The part which remains confused and hurt by his actions.
If only his hands hadn’t touched someone else.
If only he didn’t think that destroyin
g our relationship was okay.
Taking a deep breath in, I turn around while placing my earrings on.
“You look good,” he says, adjusting his cuffs.
“Thank you. So do you, I guess.”
“You guess?” He places his hand on his heart, making a pained face with a smile. “Ouch. Okay, I deserve that.”
“You deserve a lot of things.”
“And not you, right?”
“You know where I stand with our relationship.”
Wes bows his head then lifts it again only for his eyes to meet mine and they’re full of desperation.
“It’s been weeks, Em, and the only time you’ve let me touch you is when we’re filming. Don’t you understand how sorry I am? I’d do anything to take it back, but I just can’t, okay?”
“This isn’t the time to talk about it. The limo should be downstairs waiting, and I forgot to tell you Ash and Logan are coming. We’ll pick them up,” I say quickly while grabbing my purse and checking my hair one more time, avoiding his apology.
***
It’s an awkward limo ride over to Scarlett’s house. I finally introduce Wesley to Logan and almost instantly there’s this weird tension. Thank God Ash talks about his restroom mayhem the entire ride over.
“Are you sure you didn’t order a different curry to mine?”
“Positive.”
“And you didn’t go to the bathroom once?”
“Nope. Iron stomach.”
“I just don’t get it.” He shakes his head.
“So, why are you both in town?” Wes places his hand on my knee, a gesture which generally wouldn’t bother me but right now, it does.
There’s a visible flush in Logan’s cheeks. His eyes follow the movement of Wes’ hand as they rest on top of my knee. With his mouth turned down he speaks through clenched teeth, “We’re trying out for the US soccer team.”
“Nice.”
I want to strangle Wes for being a stuck-up, arrogant jerk.
We carry on with some small talk about the latest movies and who’ll be at the party. Ash keeps the conversation rolling, talking non-stop so the tumbling tumbleweed won’t roll past us. I know how he feels about Wesley, but he’s never one to keep his mouth shut.