The other man finally spoke. “Cell phone, please.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You can give it to me, or I can take it.”
I eyed the big man carefully. Could I outrun him? Maybe. Was I willing to risk having my ass kicked over a phone? Not a chance.
I dug into my pocket and handed over my cell.
“Out.”
I complied, and followed him to the building. He grabbed a key from his suit jacket, unlocked the door and gestured for me to go in. I hesitated. Pete’s face told me he was just looking for an excuse to give me a shove. I stepped inside before he could act on it.
“Stairs,” he grunted.
“Now what?” I asked as we stopped in front of a door on the third floor.
He shrugged. “Now you go in. Then you wait, I guess.”
I took a step into the room. It was bare. The carpet was worn thin, there were bars on the windows, and even the appliances were missing.
I spun back to Pete and realized he was swinging the door shut.
“Hey!”
“Yeah?”
“You’re just leaving me here?”
“Those are my orders.”
“Your orders? What is this? A quasi-military operation? Christ,” I muttered. “And what if I just leave?”
“I won’t be far,” Pete replied, and as an afterthought added, “Oh. And this door locks from the outside.”
He slammed it shut, and the lock tumbled, emphasizing his words. I waited about thirty seconds, then tried the handle. It didn’t budge.
What was my father up to?
I slid down the wall and prepared myself to wait out whatever game he was playing.
Tucker
“What the hell!”
The loud epithet startled me out of my otherwise blissful and dreamless sleep.
Crap. Liandra.
I sat bolt upright as I remembered curling up beside Joey.
“I can explain,” I started to say, then went silent as I realized the space where he’d been was empty.
My roommate stood at the foot of my bed with a glare on her face.
“I sure hope you can,” she grumbled irritably. “There is tea all over the floor, and my favorite jeans are going to smell like chamomile for a week.”
“Tea?” I replied, sounding meek and confused.
Liandra rolled her eyes. “Someone must’ve poured herself a cup in the middle of the night and then left it right in the path of the door.”
“A cup?” I repeated.
She didn’t notice my emphasis on the singular as she responded. “Yes. A cup. Once full. Probably once hot. Now cold. And everywhere.”
I finally recovered myself enough to answer properly. “Maybe it’s because someone else covered the room with her clothes, leaving no appropriate space for a mug to sit.”
“I couldn’t find my phone.”
“We got your note.”
“We?”
My face heated up as I corrected myself hurriedly. “I got it.”
Liandra stared at me, and I could feel the suspicion rolling off her. She opened her mouth to reply, but a knock on our door cut her off.
“You expecting company?” she asked.
I shook my head, and for some unknown reason, tensed up as she stood up to answer it. A girl in a crisp pantsuit stood at the door with a long, narrow box in her hands.
“Delivery for Tucker Greenleaf?” she said.
Liandra grabbed the box, forged my initials, closed the door quickly and turned to me with an accusing look on her face.
“These are from him, aren’t they?” she demanded.
My faced heated. “Who?”
“You know who! Your friend. And for the record…friends don’t send friends flowers,” she said. “You going to tell me what happened last night?”
“Nothing happened.”
I took the box and covered a smile.
Well. If the guy is going to run off in the morning without a word, at least he has the class to make up for it appropriately.
I peeled the ribbon back and peered inside.
“It’s not flowers,” I said in voice that mirrored my confused state of mind.
“What is it?”
I pushed the tissue aside and pulled the contents of the box. It was a little black dress.
Liandra held it up and let out a low whistle.
It was knee length, had one strap, a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt. The outer layer was made of an airy, sheer fabric, but the lining was sleek, and shiny, and it rippled like water.
“Wow,” said my roommate. “Your old lady outfit must have got him thinking you needed a new wardrobe.”
“I didn’t wear the old lady outfit,” I admitted with a red face.
She turned to scrutinize me, and her eyes widened as she took in the fact that I was still fully clothed, and that there was a conspicuous amount of space between me and the wall.
“You didn’t…” she trailed off with a suggestive nod.
“No! Of course not.”
“And yet he buys you a dress?” she asked as she glanced at the tag. “An expensive dress. In your exact size.”
“I’m going back to sleep,” I told her.
“You’re not going to try it on?”
I ignored her, climbed back into bed, pulled the covers over my head.
“If you don’t want it…can I keep it?” Liandra asked.
“No,” I replied from under my blanket. “Your boobs are too big.”
She laughed.
“But I’m still not going to accept it,” I added. “It’s weird.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Whose side are you on?” I demanded in a muffled voice.
“In this case…the dress’,” she admitted, and I groaned.
* * *
I managed to ride the Joey-induced high through the morning.
I felt hopeful and alive, and I went to class with a stupid grin on my face. I took notes in an unusually light-hearted fashion, tapping the keys on my laptop with a vigor I’d rarely—if ever—felt before.
I wondered how no one else seemed to notice my euphoria.
Part way through my morning, I realized I left my phone at home, and when I made my way back to the dorm to get it, I felt little flutter of excitement at what Joey might’ve said.
But I had no missed calls and the only text I’d received was from Liandra.
As the day went by, I began to worry a bit. I went to the last of my classes, and did my hated job, and pretended not to look for Joey’s truck as I doled out tickets.
I powered through the day, still waiting for him to phone or text. I found excuses to glance at my phone but the call didn’t come.
Just after noon, I trimmed a group of hedges that reminded a little too much of the ones at Joey’s parents’ place, and wondered if I should just swing by his house.
One friend checking on another.
I drove halfway there in the work van before I chickened out.
Ultimately, I just went about my day and tried to act like nothing was wrong.
By the time evening neared, I hadn’t heard a word from Joey, and the elation was starting to wear off.
It was ridiculous for me to be reacting the way I was—it had only been a day. But I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Joey’s one-night stands felt after he confessed to them that’s all they were going to be. Empty. Sad. Like something great had almost happened.
Bereft.
That was the best way to describe my emotional state. Which was ridiculous.
I eyed the box that held the dress with a guilty conscience.
Was he expecting me to be all over him with gratitude?
I shook my head at the thought. Maybe that was exactly what he’d been expecting.
I let another hour go by before I relented and typed him quick text.
Thank you. I’m not keeping it. But thanks anyway.
My finger hovered over th
e send button. I hit delete instead.
I put on my coziest pajamas, crawled into bed and pretended to be asleep when Liandra got home. She wasn’t fooled.
“Tucker?”
“I’m sleeping,” I muttered.
“Sleeping? Or being sad?”
The bed sunk down low as she sat on the edge, and I pulled the blankets down to meet her eyes.
“I’m an idiot,” I told her.
“What did you do now?”
“Thanks for defending me against the self-proclaimed idiocy charge,” I replied sarcastically.
“Sorry,” Liandra said with a shrug, then waited for me to tell her what was going on.
“I slept with him,” I blurted.
“You what?”
“I don’t mean like that,” I said with a red face. “After the fundraiser yesterday, he came over and fell asleep on the bed.”
“On your bed?”
“Yes.”
“Well, why didn’t you just wake him up?”
“I tried.”
Liandra make a skeptical face. “Not very hard obviously.”
I sighed. “I already told you I was an idiot.”
“And I didn’t correct you,” she reminded me. “So if you didn’t wake him up, and you didn’t have sex with him…what did you do?”
“I climbed into bed, made myself comfortable and went to sleep, too,” I said miserably. “I probably freaked the crap out of him. He hasn’t called me or texted all day.”
“Guys who wake up in beautiful girls’ beds don’t usually freak out. They pat themselves on the back and try to figure out what they did right so that they can do it again.”
I managed a laugh. “Yeah, unless they just want to be friends with that girl. And it was decidedly unfriendly of me to cop a bedtime snuggle.”
“It was decidedly unfriendly of Joey to send you gorgeous designer dress, too,” my roommate countered.
“I’m not keeping the dress,” I told her.
She rolled her eyes. “He was probably just busy today.”
“I guess so,” I agreed reluctantly. “But what if I blew the whole thing?”
“I thought you didn’t like him like that anyway.”
“I don’t.”
Liandra raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on my denial.
Instead, she said, “Seriously. Maybe he had to work. Or study for exams. Or had a family obligation.”
My spirits lifted a little. She had to be right.
“Maybe I’m more like that girl from your poetry class than I thought,” I joked.
“Nope. She would definitely be keeping the dress,” she teased.
“Very funny.”
But I was at last able to relax.
Joey
At the noisy click of the lock on my makeshift prison, I shifted slightly. I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting in the same spot, but it had been hours. I’d prowled the apartment a dozen times over and found nothing but a bottle of window cleaner and a musty sheet. I’d slammed my fist into the living room wall and kicked up a cloud of drywall dust that made me sneeze.
When enough time had passed that the sun no longer shone through the window and my stomach began to growl insistently, I’d sunk down against the wall again, and stayed there with my gaze fixed on the yellowed ceiling.
“Joseph. Sorry about keeping you waiting like this.”
I looked up at the sound of my father’s voice. I noticed that as he pushed the door open, he was careful not to touch it with his hands. When he made his way toward me, however, his face was a careful mask of indifference to his surroundings. The sight of him and his casual words shot fury through my veins. I jumped to my feet, prepared to unleash it all on my father.
“Keeping me waiting?” I replied incredulously. “I’ve been stuck inside this goddamned tomb for hours. That’s not waiting. That’s kidnapping. I should—”
“Tucker Greenleaf,” he interrupted calmly.
The angry feeling in my stomach quickly morphed into a sick one. Her name on his lips reeked of wrongness.
“You want to tell me how I found that out?” he asked.
“Since when does it matter what I want?”
He didn’t bother to acknowledge my question. “I flew in this morning and ran into Dr. Knowles, who had an interesting conversation with his daughter. Seems she ran into a friend of hers up on campus.”
Goddamned Amber.
“Seems the two of them went to high school together,” my dad went on. “Which makes me wonder how you didn’t garner that extremely relevant little bit of information.”
I looked away, but it wasn’t quick enough.
“Ah. So you did know.”
“I knew. But Amber didn’t share the girl’s name with me.”
“But you do know it. Now.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“A few days, maybe,” I replied evasively.
“And were you going to tell it to me?”
Was I? When he posed the question directly like that, I could honestly say I didn’t know.
I shrugged helplessly.
“That’s about what I thought,” my dad said.
He reached into his briefcase, pulled out a thin folder, and held it out toward me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s the Greenleaf file. I thought you might want to know what you’re getting into.”
For a moment, I itched to reach for the folder, to learn even more about where she came from, to know a little more about what made her tick. I resisted the urge. She’d tell me in her own time.
“Dad,” I said slowly, unsure if he’d even listen to what I had to say. “Tucker is trying to do something meaningful.”
“And what about when she’s done with you?” he asked.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that if you’d start thinking with that thing between your ears instead of that thing between your legs, you’d realize that this girl is just a repeat of the last.”
My fingers closed, forming an involuntary fist. “Tucker is nothing like Beth.”
As soon as I said, I realized it was true. Tucker was mature and strong, and didn’t jump into anything. Hell, she probably picked out her socks a day in advance. Beth had been as impetuous as they came. Fun loving and wonderful to be around, but more often than not…Beth was all about Beth. Tucker was all about the world around her. The revelation floored me.
I squared my shoulders. “Dad, I think you should back off this deal.”
He reached into his briefcase again before I could react to that statement, and pulled out a second folder, much thicker than the first.
“This one’s yours,” he announced.
“Courtesy of Pete?” I asked, hearing the disgust in my voice.
“Courtesy of every misdeed you’ve committed over the past five years.”
“I’ve kept my nose cleaner than yours for the last one and a half of those years,” I reminded him.
He ignored my words, and opened “my” folder on the kitchen counter, letting photographs and papers fan out.
“One bar, nearly burned to the ground. One pool, filled with red dye. One vomit-happy night at a carnival. Three counts of public indecency. Two girls claiming you impregnated them—”
“That last part is utter bullshit,” I interrupted.
“Small miracles, Joey.”
“Not so much. I know where babies come from, Dad.”
“Eighteen complaints from the neighbors. One request from the dean at your previous college to have you removed. An embarrassing escapade involving a can of spray paint, a large bridge and a word I won’t repeat. And you can wipe the smirk off your face, right now. None of it’s cute, or funny. I’ve included a financial breakdown to go along with your list of transgressions.”
“I’m glad you can put your business sense to good use in relation to my life.”
“My business sense puts food on the tabl
e, money in your pocket and gas in your truck,” he reminded me. “But that’s not why I’m showing you this. You’re my son, whether you like it or not. This is no longer just about the money. It’s about you and this girl. I refuse to let you go back down that particular rabbit hole, Joseph. And if you won’t help yourself…”
“What? You’ll be forced to help me in any way you see fit?”
He nodded once. “I’m giving you some time to think about the consequences of you actions. When I leave, Pete will come by with your keys and your phone.”
“You’ve got the girl’s name and you’ve got more information on her background than I do. You asked for my insight. I gave it to you. What else is it you want, exactly?”
“I want to know what’s going to get her to stop,” he replied coldly.
“Dad, I don’t—”
He put a hand up.
“You need to ask yourself when family is going to start coming first. You need to ask yourself what lengths I’m willing to go to, to get my way.” Genuine pain crossed his features quickly, then disappeared. “Your actions and your choice in women nearly destroyed you once. I don’t want to see it happen again. Twenty-four hours. Get her to back off. Then tell her goodbye. And Joey…do what you’re told, or I’m going to make what’s in her folder public knowledge.”
My heart tripled. There was nothing that would upset Tucker more than seeing her face and her past splashed in the papers.
“You can take the folder with you,” I said, and shoved it back into his hands. “I’m not interested in dirt.”
He slammed the door shut so hard the floor shook, and left me staring after him. In seconds, Pete came in and handed me my keys and phone as if he hadn’t kidnapped me just hours earlier.
“Fuck you very much,” I said cheerily as I took my belongings.
He shrugged, then disappeared. By the time I reached my truck, the other man was nowhere to be seen, and my phone was buzzing.
Tucker, I thought immediately, and answered without checking.
“Hi, sweetheart. Miss me?”
A familiar chuckle answered me. “Not gonna lie, man. A little bit.”
“Shit. Sorry, Evan. It’s been a hell of day. What’s up?”
“What do you mean what’s up? I’ve left you sixteen messages.”
“Lost my phone.”
“And you forgot what day it is.”
Bad Reputation Page 15