Benched

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Benched Page 7

by Charles, Colleen


  Heather sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple, tapping her long nails. “Julia, I shouldn’t be surprised that I have to spell it out. Remember that kegger back in my junior year the night of homecoming? You were younger, but your brother was there. Adam paid Trip McWilliams his entire week’s pay from the feed lot to slip a Xanax into my beer. Just when I hobbled out to get lost in the corn field, he came swooping in to save me. Sound familiar?”

  My stomach rolled over and I sat back down so I didn’t pass out as my mind raced. No way. Not Adam. But … it sounded exactly how Sue Ann told me the events of last night occurred. Heather viewed my stricken expression as an invitation to drive the knife in even further.

  “I know, right? I couldn’t believe it either when Mark finally confessed the truth. We’d shared a couple of bottles of wine at Rinaldi’s over lasagna and he told me everything. In that moment, I knew I’d picked the wrong brother. Adam’s sick, Julia. Selfish and cold. His hands are like ice and he never really wanted to touch me. Hell, I never came with him because he just didn’t care enough to please me. I almost wonder if he’s gay. At first, I laughed and shrugged it off, but then he showed me a photo of the ground up pills Adam keeps in a bottle in his bathroom. He told Mark they were for his knee.”

  I stood on shaky legs and pointed a finger at Heather, no longer able to contain the raging emotion I’d been feeling since this morning. The anger moved through me like hot knives slicing butter. After everything else, she was going to come here and spew bullshit about Adam? Hadn’t I been through enough?

  “Get the hell out of my house.”

  “What?” Heather remained motionless, her elegant face wrinkled with confusion. As if no other woman had ever dared to speak to her with rancor.

  “I said that you and your disgusting lies need to get the hell out of my ‘charming’ house.” I used everything in my power to keep my voice calm but it quaked anyway. Gritty, low and full of venom. If Heather couldn’t tell I was about to lose my shit, she was the stupid one.

  Heather squinted at me, those unique blue eyes deepening like an incoming ocean storm. “Did you just throw me out of your home?”

  I stood my ground, hands on my hips and nodded, afraid to open my mouth again. Because if I did, words would tumble out that might be more appropriate for a dockside wharf or a truck stop.

  “The Chamber of Commerce is going to hear about this, Julia Wales,” she spat as she smoothed the wrinkles from her designer outfit. “My father will make you wish you were never born. You and your little barn business. It’s more than likely you were born in one.”

  With a flip of that glorious, shiny hair, she stomped through the living room and into the foyer. Heather opened the door, slid through it and slammed it hard. The sound of the solid oak hitting the frame with such force caused the huge breath I’d been holding to escape from my lungs on a hiss. Rather like a rattlesnake. God. I didn’t like behaving like a bitch. Sometimes, as a young woman in business, I’d had to but it wasn’t my normal modus operandi. Seems Heather McNeal brought out the worst in everyone. Adam. Mark.

  And now me.

  I tromped into the kitchen to brew a cup of chamomile and lavender tea in my cast iron teapot. The loose leaf concoction might be the only thing capable of ironing out the kinks in my ravaged nerve endings. And once I had the steaming mug in hand, I’d take another dip in my antique, claw-foot tub while listening to Adele.

  Breathing a long inhale, I felt some blessed relief spread through my tight limbs at the thought of the stress relief routine. Maybe a yoga class this week at TRX Fitness. Yeah. Heaven. It was time to start taking more breaks during the week and stopping to smell the roses.

  The buzzing of my iPhone broke through my current fantasy of downward dog. I glanced down and saw Sue Ann’s name. After it, some bold letters.

  Sue Ann: SOS

  Not wanting to text after that greeting, I hit the green button for Sue Ann in my contacts.

  “Hey, girlfriend,” Sue Ann’s voice floated over me. Calming me. Except — Sue Ann sounded frantic. “Feeling better?”

  “I was starting to,” I replied. “I was just grabbing a cup of tea so I could soak in the tub and declare this day over. Tomorrow is a new one.”

  “Yeah, about that.” The pause on the other end of the line became long and meaningful. Sue Ann knew something. Something she didn’t want to divulge.

  “Sue?” I prompted, wondering how it could possibly get any worse. “What is it?”

  The sound of cars whizzing by Sue’s phone, horns and people screaming became so loud I could barely make out her actual words. “I’m standing … corner … Elm … Boulevard.”

  “Sue, you need to speak up,” I talked louder. “I can’t make out half of what you’re saying.

  “There, is that better?” After her adjustment, I could finally make out Sue’s words but my friend still sounded tinny and far away.

  “A little,” I replied. “You said something about being out on the street?”

  “Yeah, I’m standing on the corner of Elm and Flagship where a crowd has gathered.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask. If only because the past twenty-four hours couldn’t get any worse.”

  “Julia?” Sue Ann asked. “Do you have any enemies that I don’t know about?”

  My mind raced, trying to land on a possible suspect for an attack. Until a half hour ago, I wouldn’t have counted Heather as an enemy but that probably just changed when I threw the gorgeous woman out on her perfectly sculpted ass. Having Carter arrested last night would also put him on the short list. Other than that, I really didn’t. Julia Wales Designs prided itself on its owners pleasing personality. Hell, I’d been voted Miss Congeniality back in the Miss Duluth pageant in 2011.

  “Sue Ann, you’re scaring me,” I pressed as I grabbed the whistling tea kettle and poured hot water over the leaves to steep. “Why does the street corner have anything to do with whether or not I have any enemies?”

  “You know that digital billboard they just installed there?” Sue Ann sounded out of breath again. Like she was walking. Or running. “The one that changes advertisements every few minutes?”

  “Of course,” I answered. “It’s the first one of its kind in Duluth so I read about it in the paper. Bellisio’s used it to feature their famous lasagna.”

  “I’m going to hang up now so I can send you a picture,” Sue Ann panted. “Promise you’ll call me back as soon as you get it.”

  “Of course.”

  It didn’t take more than ten seconds until a brilliant color photograph came through my incoming text messages. Before I could open it to look, the Facebook feed and Twitter feed for Julia Wales Designs exploded, notifications pouring in like machine gun fire.

  I tapped on the thumbnail size photo and enlarged it so I could see the entire photo of the billboard.

  “Holy mother of God.”

  Chapter 11

  Julia

  Elm and Flagship.

  The exact spot where I realized that my life was about to get interesting in the worst possible way. I gripped the cellphone in my hand and stared at the billboard, my mouth formed into a perfect circle. Shallow pants exhaled from my mouth and my pulse throbbed in my temples.

  “I don’t know how this is possible,” Sue Ann said from beside me. “It happened so fast.”

  My best friend looped an arm through mine and shook her head. “I don’t understand,” I whispered, “how did this… I didn’t… I would never…”

  “I know,” Sue Ann replied.

  A crowd had gathered on the street. Cars honked at us, blaring shrill vehicular shrieks and human shouts from their drivers.

  Mayhem.

  I clutched handfuls of my cream cardigan and pulled them closer to my chest, trying to cover myself up. This whole situation made me feel exposed in a way I couldn’t really articulate. Like if I took a thousand showers, I’d still have a film of suspicion clinging to my body. Already, a few of the peopl
e on the street, one of which just happened to be a client, looked over at me, pointed, and then whispered behind a hand.

  This was a nightmare.

  My nightmare.

  I stared at my business head shot on the billboard. Face smiling, eyes alight with passion and wonder for the work I loved.

  In gold neon, the words reflected back at me like an electrical slap in the face.

  JULIA WALES

  Your Local Liar

  She’ll turn your dump into showplace –

  While she ruins your life for free.

  My gaze traced the line again and again, then flicked up to the other picture. The one on the right hand side of the text. Of me and Carter Jenkins. Not Adam.

  Carter.

  It had to be from the night he’d drugged me, taken me into that alley and tried to sexually assault me before Adam stepped in. Adam. Nausea bubbled up and threatened to overtake me. I was pretty sure puking on the public sidewalk would make things worse, so I clung to Sue Ann as if she were a Styrofoam ring floating on top of a stormy sea. What if he saw this and thought it was true?

  The picture was pretty damning. I sat on a barstool at Shooters, smiling with my head turned to Carter, who had his arm around my waist. He held a drink in one hand, with his head tilted to the side, and a huge smile on his handsome face. Except, now, he didn’t look so great. More like an evil troll.

  It appeared to onlookers that the photographic couple were old friends or even lovers. Damn, it looked like I’d made up the story about how Carter had violated me. But there had been witnesses. Adam knew what happened that night. He knew the truth.

  Adam.

  People stared at me with knowing, taunting grins or frowns morphed into anger.

  “What a bitch,” a woman murmured nearby. “Setting up an innocent man. She should be ashamed of myself.”

  “Liar,” another guy said. “All women are motherfucking liars and manipulators.”

  I stared blankly at them, unable to even form the words needed to defend myself.

  Sue Ann clicked the fingers of her free hand. “It has to be Photoshopped, that’s it. Somebody took a picture of you two at the bar and fiddled with it. Made it look like you two were… close.”

  I blinked and turned to my best friend, flipping my long auburn hair over my shoulder. I reached for Sue Ann, grabbing her by the arms. As if shaking Sue Ann could chase away the pain I felt at being falsely accused.

  “I didn’t want him,” I whispered. “I didn’t want him near me.”

  “I know that,” Sue Ann said, her lips turning down at the corners. She bussed a kiss to my temple. “Relax, girl, I know that. I’m on your side. We’ll figure out how to fix this. Maybe an emergency meeting of the Chamber of Commerce.”

  “Wow,” a woman said from behind us.

  We turned together, Sue Ann slipping an arm around my shoulders, and faced her.

  “I can’t believe you’d do that,” she said. “How many men are going to suffer just because they know you, Julia Wales?”

  “I’m sorry?” I stammered, glancing around. Other women and men had stopped to stare and every one of them looked like a schoolyard bully. All they needed was a crate of rotten tomatoes to make the scene complete.

  “You realize that bitches like you are the reason that women who really have been hurt or raped or molested can’t come forward without fearing that they’ll be ridiculed?” The woman folded her arms across her flat chest, her beaded bangles clacking together.

  “This is not what it looks like,” I said, but my head spun and I could barely see straight. I had to get out of this situation. Away from these people. Before I tossed my cookies on the cement.

  Or cried.

  “Carter was almost arrested because of this,” she snapped, stamping a booted toe on the sidewalk. “No one will take him seriously after this, or my family’s HVAC business. You’ve ruined a good man’s life for your own gain.”

  Sue Ann snapped at that, stepping out of my reach and toward the horrid woman. “And what could she possibly gain out of lying about a douche bag scum that can’t keep it in his pants?”

  “Attention,” the woman replied. She had on a white camisole, no bra and short sweatpants with her boots. Like a snapshot in a Facebook post for Wal-Martians. “Who do you think put up this billboard? Backfired, didn’t it? Yeah, no one’s going to want your business now.”

  These people actually thought I’d buy a salacious billboard maligning myself on purpose?

  “Seriously, do I know you?” I asked.

  My brain was stuck in a loop, like a scratchy old record. God, they thought this of me? If that was the case, I really would lose a lot of business. As my brain galloped at warp speed, I thought of my parents and the rest of my family and friends. What if this affected my personal relationships?

  Adam.

  I looked around at the people of Duluth, tears spilling from my eyes. I choked and swallowed. I’d thought they cared for me as a small business owner. Supported me.

  “Oh, it’s too late to cry now.” Heather McNeal stepped around the other woman, wearing a smile that stretched her luscious lips wide. It was a vicious grin, the kind a lion would wear before it devoured a lamb.

  “You already cried wolf,” the woman said. “Are you going to continue to stand here and lie to us? Lie to the community? Your parents would be so proud.”

  “That’s okay, Jessie.” Heather patted the other woman on the arm, her smile spreading wider still. I was surprised her face didn’t snap like a rubber band.

  “Jessie?” Sue Ann asked, eyes going round as glass Christmas ornaments. “Jessie Glyn?”

  My heart skipped a beat. Jessie Glyn was the daughter of the head of the Chamber of Commerce and Editor in Chief at the Duluth News Tribune. This moment could end my career. I’d grossly underestimated the wealth and influence of Heather McNeal. I couldn’t even imagine the cost of having something like this done practically overnight.

  As my eyes flicked from the billboard to the people glaring at me, all I could think of was escape.

  Flee. Run. Hide.

  My normal bravery flew the coop on the wings of everything that had happened in the past few hours. I just didn’t think I could take any more without stopping to heal and re-group. I shared a glance with Sue Ann as one lonely tear escaped an eyelid and trickled down my face.

  “Well?” Jessie asked, tapping her furry Ugg on the sidewalk. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

  I opened my mouth and slammed it shut again, not about to dig the grave deeper. As my wise dad always said, “If you find yourself in a hole sweetheart, the first thing you should do is set down your shovel and stop digging.” I couldn’t afford a scene here, not without risking my business’s reputation.

  Without risking everything.

  Risking Adam.

  It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. I had budding feelings for him already. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sick at the thought of losing our friendship.

  I glanced up at the picture again and gulped. There might not be much of a reputation to salvage at this point. That picture made me look like a flirt of the worst kind.

  Heather lifted her perfectly manicured fingertip to her lips and giggled. “You know what they say,” she murmured, casting blue-eyed derision at me, “that a picture is worth a thousand words.”

  Sue Ann opened her mouth to unload, but I stopped her by squeezing her hand. I turned my back on the two women and walked through the crowd of onlookers. They parted before me, though they muttered in dulcet tones. A few people yelled insults.

  This was my worst nightmare come to life. I’d built a business, worked hard, produced gallons of blood, sweat, and tears to get this far, only to have it swept out from under me by –

  Who the hell had done this? I snarled to myself, but I already knew the answer.

  “It’s got to be her,” Sue Ann said as if reading my mind. Once we reached the opposite side of the road,
I looked back at Heather, who talked animatedly with Jessie, flicking her mane of platinum hair around as her gleeful giggles traveled to my hyper-sensitive ears.

  I licked my lips and looked at the billboard again. “I don’t care who did it. I just want it gone before Adam sees it.”

  The rest of Duluth already had.

  Chapter 12

  Adam

  I knocked on her door and took deep, steadying breaths. Shit, I’d never been this nervous before. Not even before a game, and that involved ramming dudes on the ice and the possibility of getting annihilated in the press.

  Traded.

  Injured.

  So fucking done they’d stick a fork in me.

  I readjusted my baseball cap, then whipped it off my head and ruffled my hair. A real gentleman didn’t wear his hat indoors. If my dad had been alive and standing here, he would have smacked it off my head and asked me if I’d been born in a barn.

  Barns.

  Julia.

  “You’re never too old to learn some manners.” That was dad’s go-to phrase, and I believed he was right. Values had been paramount in my family and gratitude flowed over me as I reminisced about my folks. They were just damn good people. Dad’s voice came back in full force saying, “And we always show the utmost respect to ladies.”

  I tucked the cap into the back of my jeans.

  Footsteps echoed in the hall as the gentle falls approached the door. Butterflies had nothing on this. Nah, these were full grown pelicans, snapping their massive wings and beaks against the inside of my gut. Damn it. I shook my arms from elbow to wrist to try to center myself. Something bubbling up from the depths of my soul told me this budding friendship with her meant something more than any relationship I’d ever had before. Because this was Julia. A woman. The most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. And she was in trouble. She needed me.

  What I’d give to run my hands through that thick, long hair, tilt her chin back and –

  The door opened and there she stood all glorious flesh and blood. Her usually bright eyes were watery, and she’d tied her silky hair back in a harsh high pony tail, exposing those flawless milky white cheekbones. There wasn’t anything I hated more than a woman I cared about in tears. Especially my mom, and now the woman that was close enough to touch.

 

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