Pressure Point (Point #2)

by Olivia Luck

  You are not getting away with this, Chump fucking Conway.

  My subdued mask falls into place easily. The tables have shifted and he’s about to find out that I’ve got the checkmate move ready to go. “Ah, you’re looking for information on Zoe.”

  Chip’s grin grows victorious. “Yes, actually. Tell us about your fiancée.”

  I shift to dig out my phone. “I’ll do you one better. Here’s another picture of her.” Quickly, I find what I need and turn the device around to show Chip and then the cameraman. The camera zooms in on the screen.

  The image is from Zoe’s middle school graduation. A mortarboard sits crookedly on her head, and she’s swimming in the black gown, but she’s happy. Both of us smile effortlessly, and I’m looking damn proud of my sister.

  For the first time, Chip’s gleefulness slips. He clears his throat nervously. “Zoe’s quite a bit younger, then?”

  “Zoe Baker is my sister.” There’s a deadliness in my voice that I don’t hide. I discard the phone, my hand curling into a fist on top of the table separating me from the host. “Our mother died fifteen years ago, and I became her guardian.”

  For a beat, there’s utter silence.

  Got you, fucker.

  “Any other questions?” There’s no mistaking my underlying words: there better not be.

  Chip’s throat constricts when he swallows. “No.”

  SportsHour fades into commercial.

  “I…er…” The guy goes pale underneath the pile of make-up making his skin orange. He thought that he would best me with huge ratings and not need my advertising dollars. Well, he’s lost them. And I don’t plan on giving him another second of my time. I rise to my feet and stare down at him with contempt. Not so flashy now.

  “Not now.” I gesture toward the microphone on his desk. I don’t want to share this argument with the audience. Chump catches my drift but doesn’t respond verbally. I pivot around and pace to Stella, who watches me anxiously. I grab her with one hand while the other fishes my cell phone out again. Quickly, I dial my sister.

  “Hi,” she says shortly.

  “Weren’t expecting that birthday gift, huh?” I ask grittily.

  She sighs heavily. “Not exactly.”

  “Look, I need to talk to the producers and my lawyer. I’ll call you back as soon as I’m done here.”

  “Got it.”

  “Bye.” I just needed to hear her voice and make sure she was all right. How can she be when… Fuck. I realize then that Zoe was supposed to be out of town this weekend with her boyfriend, Miles. He was taking her to some town in northern Michigan to celebrate her birthday. What happened with that?

  Add it to the list of things I need to deal with.

  Stella

  Needless to say, a dark cloud hung over the rest of our time in New York. Blake spent most of the time on the phone with lawyers. When he wasn’t growling at them, he had other interviews to do. Luckily, no other media outlets were brave enough to ask about Zoe. To add to the mess, we found out the next morning that Zoe and her boyfriend were going through a rough patch. She wasn’t seeing him anymore and was clearly upset about it. Blake nearly sent us straight to New Point, but she resisted.

  Silently, I watched Blake’s anger dominate his personality. The man thrives on control, and in a chaotic situation like this, he became obsessed with micromanaging the outcome. Chip Conway called him personally to apologize and though Blake accepted the sentiment, it didn’t stop him from demanding that advertising dollars be rerouted.

  Now we are in Blake’s SUV, careening toward New Point. He wanted to make good time and get there early to check on Zoe. For the past few days, the only thing he’s been concerned with is her wellbeing. In fact, I’m not sure that he noticed me all that often. It’s a stark reminder of the early days of our relationship. I try not to let it sting too badly, but I’m hurting and confused, too.

  Across the car, he’s talking abruptly to an attorney friend who I’ve never met, Harris.

  “Man, you need to relax. We’ve got it all worked out,” Harris’ crisp voice filters through the car’s Bluetooth system.

  “Right.” Blake’s not convincing in his abrupt response. “Give my best to Edith, will ya?”

  “Ever since Edith found out you have a girlfriend, she’s been in my ear to get you two over for dinner. Call me when you’re back from New Point and we’ll set something up.”

  At the mention of me, Blake’s deep brown eyes flicker toward me. He flashes a ghost of a smile and I return it, secretly pleased Blake told this friend about me. “Done. Thanks, Harris.” Navigating the car with one hand, Blake reaches across the center console and rests his warm palm on my thigh. “Thank you for putting up with me the past couple of days. I know that our trip turned into a mess.”

  “The only upside to all of this is that I haven’t had much time to be worried about Zoe’s reaction to seeing me for the first time in months,” I comment drily. Lazily, he strokes the outside of my thigh with his thumb, sending shivers down my back.

  “What if we did another trip—somewhere secluded where I can devote all of my attention to you? Two weeks from Friday, we’ll go on a jaunt somewhere with a beach, you, me, and nothing else.” He says it with a matter-of-fact air, blind to my crestfallen expression as he starts navigating us through New Point. The quaint place is an idyllic Lake Michigan beachside town. Tourism fuels the small city. Zoe’s parents left her their home in their will, and according to Blake, it’s a short walk along the beach into town from their home. We’re here for dinner with Zoe and then we will head back to the city tonight so I can go back to work tomorrow.

  “A beach vacation sounds really wonderful, Blake.” I try to hide my wounded heart when I continue. “Violet and Max are getting married during that time, remember? I’m the maid of honor and she’ll need me in town to run errands or do whatever else she needs.”

  Blake tries to cover that he forgot my cousin’s wedding, but it’s too late. It’s starting to get really difficult for me to believe that I matter more to him than a mannequin, decorating the background until he needs emotional support. My heart stumbles a few beats when I watch him attempt to smooth over his mistake. “That’s right. Of course. Then we’ll go the week after.”

  Now’s not the time to fight with him. My heart may be taking a beating in my chest, but we’re on our way to see Zoe. Right here, right now, I vow to myself to address Blake’s lack of interest in my stuff, for lack of a better term, as soon as we’re home in Chicago. “Work’s been insane lately. I don’t think that I can take another few days off this summer.”

  “Busy with what? You hardly talk about your job; all I know is that you’re there more often than not. From what I hear, you’ve been exceeding expectations on our account. Do you have another proposal?”

  Inhaling a deep breath through my nose, I try to ignore the prickling sensation in my hands. Because you never ask what’s happening with my job. You’re too busy with everything but me. And, in fact, I do have another proposal on my plate, one he knows intimately well.

  “Something like that,” I mutter.

  Suddenly, he slams on the brakes hard enough to send me flying forward. The seatbelt locks me in place, digging into my chest painfully. I let out a small yelp and turn to Blake, asking if he’s okay.

  Blake doesn’t respond. His eyes are glued to something in front of the vehicle.

  “No,” I whisper when I see what he’s staring at.

  Police tape. Yards of yellow police tape block off the entrance to the library where I presume Zoe works. There’s a mass of police cars, some state troopers congregating out front, and…an ambulance. There’s a gaggle of townspeople huddled near a police officer, clearly distressed.

  The memories are fresh in my mind, the same fear ripping through my body and eliminating every other thought in my mind. Before Blake can say a word, I’m yanking off my seatbelt and jerking the car door open. On trembling legs, I run toward the people
huddled together.

  “Zoe Baker!” I cry when I’m close. “Is she okay?”

  A hard body collides into me from behind. Blake’s hands are shaking as bad as my legs as they cup my shoulders tightly to steady himself. An older woman with lips slathered in fuchsia turns around to speak. “She’s safe. Police questioned her and we’re waiting for her now.”

  I can’t stand. Relief makes my entire body sag. My jittery knees buckle and Blake roughly pulls my back flush against his chest. Thank God.

  “What in the hell happened?” Blake spits, the fury in his voice covering up the worry.

  “They won’t tell us anything yet.” The woman cocks her head back toward the police officer. Blake releases me swiftly and pushes through the crowd to the cop. His voice is low enough that no one can hear what he’s saying. Tension brackets the corners of his eyes and his body is rigid. I want to comfort him, but at this moment in time, I need someone to comfort me. Zoe’s not in my life, but I can’t lose her.

  Blake stalks back to me, his eyes straight ahead. “Let’s go,” he barks.

  I know that he’s not mad at me; the anger is how he keeps himself together, but that doesn’t make the bite sting any less. Within a few seconds, we’ve climbed back into the car and Blake roars off. Minutes later, he jerks the car to a stop in the driveway next to a gorgeous lake house. It’s a Cape Code style, white framed windows, pale gray siding, and a dark gray roof. At another time, I’d admire the architecture, but Blake leaves no room for any comment. He leaves me behind, running up the stone path and bursting through the front door. There’s nothing for me to do but follow behind. It’s strange entering someone’s house without invitation; I feel awkward and unsure of myself when I walk into the foyer.

  “You’re…he didn’t…” I hear Blake speaking, but it’s not the man I’ve come to know. The unflappable Blake Campbell heaves his breaths.

  From my spot, neither Zoe nor her boyfriend (Miles, according to Blake) sees me when I walk inside. I see Zoe climb out of Miles’ lap and make her way to her brother. “Blake.” She doesn’t get anything else out because he crushes her to him in a tight hug.

  “There was police tape around the library, Zoe. Police tape. Took ten years off my life, thinking something happened to you again.” His voice literally wavers with emotion and it bites into me. Why isn’t he turning to me for support? Stop being selfish. He’s terrified.

  “Clinton’s gone, Blake. We don’t have to worry anymore,” Zoe reassures him from where they stand.

  The weary sound as Blake exhales makes him sound more than exhausted, more like bone tired. He releases Zoe enough for her to take a few steps back and I take another few steps forward, figuring it’s time for me to show my face. I must look so out place, shifting from foot to foot a few paces behind Blake, but I don’t know what to do.

  “Stella?” Zoe questions incredulously, staring at me with her jaw slack.

  “Hi.” My voice is meek and hesitant. I knew it would be strange to see her again but never imagined it would be this intense. Fudge!

  “What are you doing here?” Zoe doesn’t seem mad when she asks. In fact, she sounds surprised and maybe even a bit hopeful. Maybe this will go okay, once we get everything sorted out with what in the heck happened back at the library.

  “She came for your birthday,” Blake answers quickly.

  And just like that, he tosses my heart to the floor and stomps it into submission. For Zoe’s birthday? Partly. I’m here as your girlfriend. The pain scalds me like a hot flame. Suddenly, I feel completely alone, standing next to the two people who I once felt closest to outside of my family.

  “Stella, I’m glad you’re here,” Zoe offers, but it doesn’t help. My eyes fall to the ground and I keep my mouth shut. What can I say?

  “Enough with the reunion,” Blake snaps. I flinch—literally recoil at the harshness in his tone. He hasn’t come to stand near me, touch me, keep me close. “Tell me what in the hell happened today,” he growls.

  Zoe’s boyfriend places his hands on her shoulders, and in a calm, steady voice, he soothes the siblings. “Let’s have this conversation sitting down. Zoe’s had enough stress for today, don’t you think?”

  Blake’s eyes narrow dangerously. “I wouldn’t know. Neither of you will explain what the fuck happened.”

  “Settle down, Blake,” Zoe pleads. He lets out an annoyed huff and drops into an overstuffed armchair.

  “Stella, join us,” she invites when she observes that I’m stalling under the archway leading into the living room. I don’t think my feet would take me toward Blake if I paid them. He’s so closed off; I’m not sure that he even remembers I’m in the room.

  I know what I have to do.

  “This seems like a family matter…” I trail, eyes falling to Blake. Please ask me to stay. Please stop me. Don’t let me go. Show me that you want me around. Show me that I matter to you, I beg him silently. He doesn’t respond, and there’s no mistaking what’s happening to me: cataclysmic heartache. My stomach lurches and I’m nauseated at the realization that he doesn’t care for me enough to ask me to stay.

  Silently, I turn on my toes and creep out of the house. I shut the door carefully, as to not alert them to my departure. Blake obviously doesn’t want my disruption.

  The only lucky part for me at this moment is that I’m wearing flat, comfortable sandals. No heels to hinder my escape plan. I run around the stone path on the side of the house, finding the beach. Taking a guess at which direction to go, I begin hurrying down the sand. A few minutes later, some sights from town come into view.

  It hurts.

  It hurts bad enough that I almost can’t breathe.

  It hurts hard enough to distract me from the reunion with Zoe.

  It hurts deep enough to make me wonder if I’ll ever want to be with anyone again.

  Blake doesn’t want the most important person in his life to know about me.

  All this time, all these small things have weighed on me—Blake not asking questions about my career or being too consumed with Zoe to realize that I need him, too. I know, I know, in the heat of this moment, he was terrified that she was hurt. Again. But when he found her…couldn’t he have taken comfort in me? Couldn’t he have told her that I was his girl, his Snow White, his?

  From an earlier conversation with Blake, I know there’s a train station in town that brings tourists directly from Chicago to New Point. Blisters have begun to form on my feet by the time that I make my way to the station.

  “One to Chicago,” I request wearily from the ticket teller. “When’s the next train?”

  “Ah, two minutes, actually,” the man says when I offer my payment.

  It’s another small piece of good timing, and I’m grateful for it. I need to get out of New Point before the crying jag starts. Because once it does, I’m not sure how I’ll get it to stop.

  Blake

  Zoe retells Miles and me how Clinton Smith broke out of his psychiatric hospital with a mission to find her. The fucker brought a gun with him, ready to… I can’t stomach the thought. After a confrontation with Zoe, he committed suicide. It doesn’t do anything to quell the hurricane of anger, fear, and anguish spiraling through me. I almost lost my sister again.

  Right now masking my emotions is the furthest thing from my mind. I’m fucking petrified.

  Zoe shudders, shaking her head. “It’s so ugly,” she whisper. “And now he’s gone.”

  He’s gone. Is it as simple as that? Physically, Clinton Smith no longer walks the earth, but I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to forget how I felt as a result of his quest to attack my sister.

  I shoot to my feet, unable to sit still. I pace the length of the room furiously, trying to get this guy out of my system. “How did he find out you were here? I thought if you weren’t with me, this would be the safest place for you to live.”

  “I am safe here, Blake. I am safe,” Zoe says strongly.

  When I look her way, it’s o
bvious my face is a reflection of what’s tormenting me. I’m wrecked. Ragged. Broken. “Did he see you on SportsHour?” I ask.

  “It’s my fault that the asshole host even had a picture of Zoe,” Miles jumps in.

  “What are you talking about?” I growl, the urge to beat the shit out of the dick who broke up with my sister only a few days ago strong.

  “Lacey, my ex-girlfriend,” Miles explains, “thought you two were a couple. She took a picture of you from that night at the bar and sent it to SportsHour. I’m sure she got paid, but she also wanted to break Zoe and me up.”

  “What, that’s, that’s… Not really surprising,” Zoe says. She’s not upset with Miles and I know that he didn’t want my sister hurt this way. I’m telling myself that so I don’t launch myself at him.

  “I’m sorry,” Miles says sincerely to my sister.

  “Not your fault. It’s no one’s fault,” she tells him softly.

  “That’s something else you need to explain.” I glance at their joined hands with a hint of disdain. “My sister doesn’t need some chickenshit boyfriend tying her down.”

  “Blake,” she admonishes, though I can tell by her expression she doesn’t necessarily disagree. That’s my girl.

  “No, he’s right.” Miles is steady, making direct eye contact me. My level of respect for him rises begrudgingly. “It’s also something your sister and I haven’t addressed yet. Once she and I come to a decision together, I hope you’ll respect it.”

  At my sides, my hands twitch. The guy has some respect for my sister. “Fine.” A jolt shoots through me. Stella. I glance over my shoulder toward the front door, worried. “What happened to Stella?”

  “You practically kicked her out,” Zoe mutters.

  Did I? I wonder then realize standing there without action isn’t helping the situation. I race through the house, calling her name, opening doors, peering into rooms until I meet my sister in the kitchen with no sign of Stella.