I would never regret being with Dex, but it wasn’t right. He’s great in bed. A beast actually. But he wasn’t what I wanted. And I needed to stop sending the wrong signals because it wasn’t fair for him. Kristen was right. He was probably in love with me.
We catch up on any old friends’ gossip since she’s an avid social media whore and fills me in on my so-called fan page. I pretend I don’t really care, but then make her pull it up because I don’t believe it when she tells me I have twenty-seven thousand followers. I mean, holy shit! That’s like more people than the population of my hometown!
We drink more, laugh, and dance. Reliving our olden days by performing our synchronized dance to “Shoop” by Salt-n-Pepa. Once two in the morning hits, we both fall into my bed, drunk and drunker.
“Dude, I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun.” Kristen sighs, snuggling into my pillow.
“Me neither. I mean, can’t believe we both still remember the ‘Shoop’ dance.”
“Katie?”
“Yup?”
“I know you’re hurt. But will you consider it. Talking to him?”
I knew she’d eventually bring it back up. I know how much this tour means to her and as much as I’m done with Chase, I can’t take her down with me. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thanks, girl.”
Kristen’s phone has been buzzing all fucking morning. And since my friend is dead to the world, I’m stuck with a pillow over my head each time, until the caller gets a damn clue and hangs up. On the billionth time, I lean over and answer it.
“Kristen Miller’s phone, how can I help you?” I breathe into the phone, my eyes refusing to even open yet. “Hello? Anyone there?”
“Hi, Katie Beller.”
Oh, shit.
I click end and toss the phone.
Like it’s on fire.
“Ouch!” Kristen grunts, rubbing at her forehead where her phone just hit her. “Why’d you just do that?” Her blond hair is in her face and she barely has one eye open.
Before I have a chance to even reply the phone starts buzzing again. Kristen reaches for it—
“Don’t! Don’t answer that.” Oh, God. Why did I answer that call? His voice, it’s like a drug. Just hearing it again brings me back to that high I rode night after night.
Kristen looks at her phone and back at me. “Just give him a chance. If he upsets you, hang up. He said one call. Technically that would be fulfilling his blackmailish request.”
God. One call. One conversation. I can do this. No, I can’t. Yes, I can. Before I even make a decision, Kristen swipes the call.
“Oh my god, don’t, wait! It’s a FaceTime—”
I lose, because there pops Chase’s face onto the screen. His eyes find mine instantly.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
So are you.
Blink, Katie.
There’s this sudden urge to fucking smack him. Hang up on him. Cry maybe or yell. But I do nothing. I stare at him, as he stares back at me. And then I realize he has to be on fucking crack because I take a look at myself in the upper right-hand corner and my hair is sticking up and I resemble a raccoon left for dead.
“Just stop. What do you want, Bates?” I’m going to kill Kristen.
“I’m Bates now?”
“No, you’re the lying asshole who blackmailed my sweet, honest friend.”
He exhales heavily, bringing his hands into his hair. “What was I supposed to do? I needed to speak to you and you wouldn’t take my calls. I was out of options.”
“Um, I don’t know, continue with me not taking your calls?”
“Katie, please. I need you to hear me out.” Oh, I’ve heard him out. I’ve replayed every single possible thing he could say to me that would talk himself out of the truth. And in my lowest times, I debated on which one of those I would actually believe. Thankfully none of them.
“There’s nothing to hear, Bates.”
“Stop calling me Bates! Katie, please—”
“Please what, Chase? Please let you explain you have a fucking girlfriend? That you played me? That I let you in. The only guy I ever gave something to and you fucking took advantage of that!” I yell, my chest beginning to heave. “How could you? Was I a joke from the beginning? A conquest? Get the one girl you would never go for in your bed? To fall in love with you?” I angrily swipe the tear that falls down my cheek.
“No. I swear to you, no. Everything I did was real.”
“Yeah, sure it was.”
“It was, dammit. Katie, please let me explain. Rebecca. She was my girlfriend. Yes, at one time, but she wasn’t when we started what we did.”
I want to cover my ears. I don’t want to hear his excuses. His lies. I close my eyes, trying to hide the pain that’s quickly resurfacing.
“Katie, open your eyes. Look at me.”
I’m not sure why I even obey. Maybe I’m a glutton for pain.
“She’s my publicist.”
“Great, well, hope you and your publicist were able to work it out,” I snap.
“Just here me out! Please. Her father is CEO of the minor league hockey team I play for. Before I left for the book tour, I set things straight with her. She was the exact person I was running from. The one who saw me for my fame and money. Not for who I really was. We met through her father, and she took over all my PR. The modeling, the hockey. She runs it all. And when I walked away she threatened to ruin all that. I had to be careful. Her father has a lot of power. I didn’t care about the modeling. But I cared about hockey. I just wanted to play.”
So, I should feel bad that he played me while he had a girlfriend because daddy dearest would be mad if he dumped his daughter? “I’ve heard enough,” I say. I can’t do this.
“I broke up with Rebecca. I wouldn’t have touched you if I were in a relationship.”
“Well, apparently you were! She definitely thought otherwise, showing up announcing herself as your girlfriend, AND you didn’t say anything to justify it. You know what? I’m done—”
“I LOVE YOU!”
My breath catches and I even hear Kristen gasp.
“I love you, Katie. I meant it that night. And even more that morning. And I mean it now. Let me fix this.”
I’m so confused. My heart and my brain are at battle with one another, both fighting for the complete opposite. How can Chase fix this? Do I believe him? I mean, define broken up! If he didn’t get caught would he have ever told me about her?
“I have one question. That day. Someone walked into your place. You hung up on me. Why?”
His eyes close briefly. When they open, I see the guilt.
“Rebecca walked in.”
That’s what I thought. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew. I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat before I ask the next question.
“If you broke up with her, why was she at your place?”
And there it is again. Guilt. It’s written all over his face. “Because we live together.”
I hung up on Chase. I refused to let him see the hurt. Shit, I didn’t even want to see it. Kristen took cover after that. Because I was done being sad. So those feelings took the bench and anger suited up. I whipped her phone across the room, which Kristen impressively threw her arm up and caught before it smashed against Gerdie’s cage. I screamed and yelled. I threw things and cussed up a storm. When I took a swift kick to my dresser, yelping in horrible pain, I finally called it quits. Mainly because I was pretty positive I broke my toe. I sat on the floor and began to cry. And we’re not talking weeping. I’m talking angry sobs. What was happening to me?
Kristen first convinced me it was because I was in love and love hurts sometimes. Well, duh. Once she got me to calm down, she then convinced me to let her take me to the ER since I most likely broke something. An X-ray and a sweet boot later, I was back home.
Kristen stayed with me for a few more days while I licked my wounds, then had to get back to Chicago. Not knowing what was go
ing to happen with Chase’s attendance, she had to prepare for his absence. Then there was the discussion of mine. Was I going to stick it out or drop? I signed the contract to complete the entire tour. Kristen wouldn’t personally hold me to it if I really didn’t want to show, but her lawyers and her publishing company would.
She gave me the time I needed to decide and when I finally made up my mind, I told her I’d still attend. I wasn’t going to hide. I had a week until the signing to get ahold of my emotions and stability. It helped that those seven days were spent at the bar working like a slave due to all the days I missed. Dex kept his distance, but he never brought up what happened. I tried to apologize again, but he shut me down every time. I hated how he was treating me like I was nobody to him, but I guess I also deserved it.
It was also a matter of time before Chrissy Baker walked into the bar and threw the Charlie Bates comment back in my face. And boy had she been practicing her swing before she strolled in, ready for me. I just wish I were ready for her.
It was a slow Monday night when Chrissy strolled in with a new sidekick, assuming Stacey is out. Sleeping with your firend’s husband clearly gets you kicked out of the mean girls’ club, I presume. I’m the only one on call tonight because Randy is off and on a date. I’m pouring a few draft beers for a group of college guys when they take two open seats at the bar.
“Oh, hey, Katie, didn’t think you’d be popping out in public so soon.”
I turn to see her smiling, resembling an ugly hairless cat.
“And why’s that?” I ask, pouring foam out of the glass and refilling.
“Well, because of that whole Charlie Bates thing. Looks like you made all that up. How embarrassing. And for him to publicly admit he didn’t even know you.” She and her dumb friend start laughing. “I mean, you couldn’t think someone like Charlie Bates would seriously go for you? And people would believe it, do you?”
Dex steps behind me, bringing his hand over mine and lifting the beer tap up since I froze, the beer overflowing the glass. “Go take a break.” He leans in and softly demands in my ear.
My knuckles are white squeezing the tap. Thoughts of me losing my job and some jail time flow through my head. I should listen to Dex. But that’s not what I do.
I release my death grip and wrap my hands around the two full draft beers. I make my way down the bar, right in front of Chrissy, and lean in.
“Oops, you caught me. Charlie Bates? Be into me? Ha, that is kinda funny, isn’t it? Oh, well. I’ll just have to find another guy who wouldn’t think twice about someone like me and make up another hot sex scandal with. Speaking of sex scandal, how are Stacey and your husband doing? Now that had to burn, huh? Glad to see you’re also able to show your face after that complete embarrassment. I mean, your best friend sleeping around with your husband? Wow.”
Chrissy’s smile is long gone, her snarl quickly taking its place.
“But hey, if you can still show your face after your ex-best friend changes her profile pic to her and your man? Then props to you, girl.”
Chrissy gasps, and I smile, leaning back. Her friend is quickly pulling out her phone in search of said photo, which I totally lied about, but I don’t care. I push off the bar, tell Dex I’m taking that break, and don’t look back.
I go hide in the back office, and before I know it, it’s been well past fifteen minutes. I’m cradled in a chair staring at the ashtray, debating on taking up smoking. People who smoke seem to love it. Constantly taking smoke breaks, sucking those sticks into their lungs one after another. Maybe it would give me a hobby outside of being a bitch. I’m just starting to calm down when Dex comes into the office.
“Just don’t.” I wave at him, too embarrassed to even make eye contact.
He doesn’t say anything, but he does bend down and pluck me off the chair, maneuvering us so he’s now sitting and I’m cradled in his lap.
“Dex, what are you doing?” I ask, a tiny smile on my face.
“Just don’t talk. I thought you girls like this cuddly shit.”
My smile widens and I lay my head on his chest. “I’m not really a normal girl, though.”
He presses his lips to my head but doesn’t follow through with his kiss. “You sure aren’t.”
Dex and I didn’t say anything else. He allowed me the comfort I needed. I’m sure this was also him telling me he accepted my apology. We got back to work. Chrissy was long gone when I came back out and there was no mention of what happened.
Phew.
We also don’t talk about the fact that I leave for New York tomorrow. The final leg of the signing tour.
For the past seven days, I’ve prepared. I have worn myself thin each night at the bar, allowing myself to come home and crash, then repeat. But tomorrow I can’t hide behind work. I have to get on a plane, enter a world that lingers with so many memories. Good and bad. And then see Chase. I’ve had time to work out the emotions, and I know Kristen has made accommodations to move our tables and specifically put our rooms on opposite sides of the hotel. We should have minimal contact, and the small part we do, I can handle it.
Making it home, I see a package on my doorstep. Kristen’s name by the return address, I smile and lug it inside. Dropping my keys on the table, I whistle to Gerdie that I’m home and grab for a pair of scissors.
Dropping myself onto my couch, I rip the box open and pull out a box, the Converse logo on the side and a letter.
Kat-
You’re an amazing person inside and out. Don’t ever think otherwise. Thank you for loving me enough to do this. I know it took a lot to agree to the tour. (Minus the whole lawyer/contract/possible lawsuit babble, of course).
I thought I’d send you a little gift to help brighten this journey for you. Plus, I may have noticed the cut-up pair of green Converse in your garbage. Thought you could use a new color in your life. It reminds me of you. Fierce.
Love you, girl.
-Kristen
I open the box to a new bright red pair of Converse.
During the flight, I sat next to a really nice old lady. She had three beautiful children and seventeen grandchildren. All true. I saw each single photo. All seventeen. I told myself next time I was driving, but it’s frowned upon to drink and drive, and during the quick flight I’ve had the pleasure of two Bloody Marys. Consider it self-medication from Betty and her family tree itemization.
With a little beat to my step, I’m off the plane and heading down the terminal to baggage. I hear someone calling my name and turn to see a big sign with my name on it. And a cute little blonde holding it.
“What? What are you doing here? Don’t you have to be at the hotel?” I smile, happy to see Kristen.
“Nah, welcoming you into the wonderful state of New York is more important. Plus, I have Tara holding down the fort.”
“Yikes, how mad is she?”
“Oh, that girl would sexually pleasure me if I asked. These young kids nowadays will do anything to work their way up in the publishing industry ladder.”
I’m looking at her wide-eyed.
“I mean, I wouldn’t ask, geez. I haven’t gotten that desperate yet.”
We laugh, and she tells me she’ll have the driver grab my bags. Escorting me to the limo, we hop in, and she hands me a beer.
“Okay, so I’m going to go into publicist mode, really quick. I’ve confirmed and double confirmed. Your room will be located on the west wing. Mr. Bates will be on the east. Your room name is under Frenchy Burgess. That way if he gets sneaky he won’t find your reservation.”
I laugh. “Frenchy Burgess? Really?”
“Yeah, I had a dream once I was married to this guy. He was like crazy rich and took me to all these fancy places, but he kept calling me Frenchy Burgess. Hell knows why. Either way, it’s now your undercover identity.
“Now for tables. You’re now on the other side of the ballroom. I tried to keep it quiet as long as I could, but you know readers. They want to know where they’re going
. So, it’s been released. Assuming Mr. Bates has gotten wind.”
Like I care. And why should he? It all seems a bit silly hearing how out of the way Kristen has to go to keep me from getting my feelings hurt again. I’m honestly better and pretty over it all. Her phone rings and she looks at who’s calling.
“Yep, just got wind,” she says, putting her finger up to take the call. “Kristen Miller here. Yes, Mr. Bates… I understand that, but it worked better with the layout… And I also understand that, but it’s not about money. It’s about better traffic flow.” She’s listening to whatever he’s saying, her eyes forming a sadness to them. “I know and I’m sorry, but this is about business, Charlie. You know I can’t ask that… I’ll notify Tara of your requests.” She hangs up and sticks her phone in her back pocket. Refusing to tell me what just happened, she perks back up and claps her hands together.
“Okay, so I have you doing your interviews once we get to the hotel. Learning the only way I’m going to get them is if I do them before the signing.” She smiles humorously and as the door of the limo opens to our arrival she grabs my hand and escorts me into New York’s glorious Four Seasons hotel.
It seems I was doing myself a service by skipping out on these interviews. It’s one thing to fill out the forms answering each and every question, but it’s another to be on the spotlight while someone drills you about anything and everything. The two most asked questions were, was I Abby, and when does my next book release. When I opened my mouth to say, what next book, Kristen stepped in and answered. And apparently, we are looking at some time next year.
We were?
“What was that about back there?” I ask as we exit the meeting room. Keeping a smile on my face because readers are everywhere, I lean into Kristen. “I’m not writing another book.”
“I know, but they don’t need to know that. Readers want to know you’re going to give them more.”
Love Broken Page 18