He sat next to me on the bed and took me into his arms. For the briefest moment, I soaked up the feel of him, everything from the muscles of his chest to the tenderness of his embrace. I wanted to forget – not just the girl, but everything that was wrong in my life. I had no job, no place to live, and no real sense of where I was going next.
But over and over again, it came back to one thing – the girl.
I wrenched myself free and turned to stare at him. I searched for clues in his face while I tried to find the words that were eluding me.
He gave me a perplexed look. "What is it?"
"Where'd you go?" I asked.
"When?"
"Just now," I said. "Where were you?"
"What's wrong?" His gaze darkened. "Did something happen while I was gone?"
"You could say that."
"What?" His voice was calm, with the slightest edge. "Tell me."
"No," I said. "You tell me. Where'd you go?"
"Back to my place," he said. "And ran a couple of errands. Why?"
"Why didn't you take me with you?" I asked.
"You've gotta ask?"
"Yeah," I said. "I do. And I am. So just answer the question, alright?"
"I didn't take you because you were sleeping."
"I was not," I said. "I was awake when you left."
"Bull," he said. "You were half awake and tired as hell. I don't remember you arguing about staying in bed."
The words felt like salt on my raw nerves. "What are you implying?" I asked. "That I’m lazy?"
He gave me an odd look. "What's up with you, anyway?"
"When you were gone," I said, "were you alone?"
"Yeah. Why?"
I studied his face and couldn't see any sign he was lying. But what did that prove? Maybe the person he was supposed to meet ended up in the wrong place. "I've got to ask you something."
His voice was wary. "Alright."
"Were you supposed to meet anyone?"
"Like who?"
"Just answer, okay?"
"Alright. The answer is no. I wasn't 'meeting' anyone. Why?"
"Because you had a visitor." I swallowed. "Here. In the room."
His muscles tensed. "What happened? Someone try to hurt you?"
"Yeah," I said, "actually they did."
His voice became fierce. "Who?"
"You. And some girl."
He gave his head a slight shake. "What?"
"Some girl," I said. "She was here. In the shower." I hesitated. "Or maybe the bath. I don't know."
He glanced toward the bathroom before turning his gaze back on me. "When you were sleeping?"
"No," I said. "When I went down to see Vince."
He froze. "What?"
"Yeah. Vince Hammond," I said. "You know."
"Damn straight I know. What the hell did you see him for?"
I drew back. "Because he stopped by, and I figured I'd give him the brush-off before you got back."
His jaw clenched. "So I wouldn’t find out?"
"No, so there wouldn’t be a scene."
"You stay away from him."
"Why?" My tone grew snotty. "Because you guys are arch-enemies?"
"No," he said, "because that guy's an asshole. I don't want you around him."
"Well maybe I don't want you around Bath Girl."
"Who the hell is bath girl?"
I crossed my arms. "You tell me."
"I can't," he said, "because I don't know who the hell you're talking about."
Desperately, I wanted to believe him. I tried to rein in my frustration as I searched for some clues that might help me sort this out. "She's a flight attendant. She said you two were in Vegas together? There was something about a dealer…" I pushed my hand through my hair. "You two are supposedly friends?" I cleared my throat. "And um, more than that?"
Jake pushed himself off the bed. "It's a load of crap."
"What is?"
"There is no other girl."
"Or maybe," I said, "there are so many girls, you can't keep track."
"Yeah," he said. "In my past."
Sitting on the bed, I gazed up to study his face, watching as it grew stonier with every second that passed in silence. I knew what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that I believed him, that I trusted him over all evidence to the contrary.
I wanted to trust him.
But what did that mean?
During my freshman year of college, I had this roommate who literally caught her boyfriend in the act of screwing his lab partner. The guy swore up and down that the girl was just there by mistake. It was all just a big misunderstanding, not what it looked like at all.
As far as my roommate, she actually believed him. At the time, I thought she was a flaming idiot. And a few months later, so did she, when she caught the guy again, this time with her best friend.
But if my old roommate was an idiot, what did that make me? Was I an idiot too?
It was Jake who broke the silence. "I'm not doing this."
"Doing what?"
"This."
"What's this?" I asked.
"I'm not watching you look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I hurt you." He glanced away. "For no good reason."
"So you admit you hurt me?" My heart sank. "So you did know her?"
"Shit, I don't know. Probably."
I squinted up at him. "What?"
"Look Luna, there's a lot of girls in my past." He shoved a hand through his hair. "A lot of girls. Stuff like this, it's gonna happen. And you're gonna get hurt."
"I wouldn't be 'hurt' if I knew you weren’t planning to hook up with her."
"So that's what you think?" He made a scoffing sound. "That I've got you – the girl I love – and I'm gonna risk it all by having a cheap fuck stop by in the same hotel room you're at?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "She said something about getting your wires crossed, so it could've been a mix-up?"
His voice was flat. "A mix-up."
"Like maybe you were supposed to meet her someplace else?"
On his face, I saw rage simmering just beneath the surface. But when he spoke, his voice was eerily calm. "I'm not doing this."
It was the second time he'd said that, and for some reason, that made me nervous. "What do you mean by that?" I asked.
He turned toward the door and began walking.
"You're not leaving?" I said.
But obviously, that's exactly what he was doing. With his hand poised on the door handle, he stopped and turned around. "I've got the room for a week. Paid. So stay. Or go. Your choice."
"What about you?" I asked. "Are you coming back?"
As an answer, the only thing he did was walk out the door.
Sitting there like an idiot on the edge of the bed, I stared after him, doing a slow burn. It was the second time he'd walked out on me like that.
The first time, we'd been at his penthouse. Later that night, when he had finally returned, I'd practically thrown myself at him. And yet here I was. Waiting. Again.
Pathetic. That's what I was.
Before I knew it, I was pushing myself off the bed and grabbing for my things – my purse, my phone, and yes, the toiletries from the bathroom, out of spite, mostly.
At the hotel room door, I stopped and turned around, much like Jake had. But where he'd been looking at me, I saw nothing – just a temporary place for temporary bliss.
My gaze landed on Jake's jacket, lying across the chair. Last night, he'd mentioned that Rango's black book was in there. Was it still? A few seconds later, I had the answer.
Yes. It was.
But not anymore.
I shoved the book into my purse and strode out the door.
Two could play at that game.
Right?
Chapter 35
Anger carried me down the long hall and through the short elevator ride. But by the time the elevator doors opened into the crowded hotel lobby, the anger had mostly
subsided, replaced by a dull ache in the center of my chest.
Either Jake had been lying about that girl. Or he hadn't.
Either way, I was an idiot.
If he had been lying, I'd been incredibly stupid to fall for someone who, let's face it, wasn't a one-girl kind of guy.
And if he had been telling the truth? In that case, I was dumbest person on Earth, because I'd just walked out on the most amazing guy I'd ever met even though he had done nothing wrong.
Striding past the front desk, my steps faltered as reality knocked me sideways. Jake had walked out on me, not the other way around. It wasn't exactly a comforting thought.
I was so lost in my own troubles that I didn't realize someone was calling out to me until I was nearly at the exit. Of course, it didn't help that the name they were calling wasn't technically my own.
It was a guy's voice. "Laura!" he called. "Where do you think you're going?"
I turned toward the voice and stifled a groan. It was Rupert of all people. Why now? For that matter, why ever?
As he hustled toward me, I stopped to give him an annoyed look. "What?"
He was carrying a clipboard, clutched close to his chest. "You're still working tonight, right?"
"You've got to be kidding," I told him.
"No. Why?"
"Because you fired me, that's why."
"No, I suspended you," he said. "For one night. Remember?"
"I hate to break it to you," I said, "but when you fire someone, it makes an impression. So no, I don't remember any 'suspension.' What I remember were two little words. 'You're fired.'"
"Alright, fine. You got me. Guilty as charged." He gave a nervous chuckle. "Throw the book at me, your honor."
Funny, I had a book. And I was tempted to throw it at him. I only wished it were bigger and made of brick.
Rupert cleared his throat. "Okay, here's the truth. I need a favor."
"Yeah, good luck with that."
"Aw come on," he said, "I'll make it worth your while, okay?"
I gave him a dubious look. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. And I'm not just talking about getting your job back." He glanced around. "I'm talking cash." He lowered his voice. "Fifty bucks."
If I weren't so distraught, I might have laughed. "Wow, fifty whole dollars, huh?"
He gave a frantic nod. "Yeah. Cash-money."
This, I had to hear. "For doing what?"
He handed me the clipboard. "Get these signed for me, will ya?"
Holding the clipboard, I glanced down. On it, I saw a printed black and white image, obviously from the hotel's security camera. It was of Jake, last night, as he plowed through Rango's friends to let me back inside the hotel. Looking at the picture, my heart ached. Had that really been only a few hours ago?
"Here's the thing," Rupert said, "I saw on the internet that Jake never signs anything."
Was that true? I had no idea. "So?" I said.
Rupert pointed to the clipboard. "So, you get these signed, and they'll be collector's items."
Oh for crying out loud. "Except, as you just said, he doesn't sign stuff." I tried to shove the clipboard back at him.
He pushed it back toward me. "He'll sign them for you. I can tell. The way he came to your rescue? I thought he was gonna kill those guys."
As the wheels in my head turned, I couldn't help but stare at him. "Wait a minute. How would you know?" I mean, the guy had been hiding out in his office the whole time.
Rupert glanced away. "Um, well, there was the security camera—"
"Did you watch that after-the-fact?" I heard my voice grow harder. "Or in real-time?"
"Well, I didn't watch all of it in real-time," he said. "I had some popcorn in the microwave, so…"
I glared at him. "You've got to be kidding me. I was dying out there."
"Hey, you don't think I've dealt with my share of drunks? Trust me. I've seen a lot worse than that. I warned you. Remember?"
"What I remember," I said, "was you hiding out in your office and letting me deal with those idiots alone."
"Aw come on," he said. "You did fine."
"Until I got locked out," I said.
"Eh, rookie mistake. Happens to the best of us."
Again, I shoved the clipboard back toward him. "Take it. I'm not your signer girl." My heart clenched. I wasn't Jake's girl either. Was I? Somehow, I doubted he'd be coming to my rescue if such a thing ever happened again.
Again, Rupert nudged the clipboard back toward me. "But there's not just the one," he said. "There's like ten. How about this? Fifty bucks a photo. Just look at them before you say no, okay? Some of them could be worth some serious money."
For too many reasons to count, the answer would definitely be no. But in spite of myself, I was curious. Or maybe I was just desperate to see Jake's face. Slowly, I went through the photos, feeling a fresh pang of longing each time I saw him. But it was the last photo that knifed me straight in the heart.
It was a photo of Jake. With Bath Girl.
Silently, I stared at the thing. I couldn’t tell exactly when the image had been taken, but the location was obvious enough. It was in the hotel elevator. She had her hand on his arm, and was giving him the flirty eye while he smiled down at her.
My hands were shaking.
That asshole.
I shoved the clipboard back at Rupert. Again, he didn't take it. This time, I let go anyway. It clattered to the floor, sending images scattering. Ignoring whatever Rupert was saying, I turned and rushed toward the main entrance, trampling a couple of printouts in my wake.
Thirty seconds later, I was standing on the sidewalk just outside the hotel. I was having a hard time catching my breath. I glanced across the street at the construction area, buzzing with activity.
Home sweet home, huh?
No.
I was done with that.
I reached into my purse and yanked out my cell phone. Studying the display – or lack thereof – I heard myself curse, not lady-like and not quietly either.
Near me on the sidewalk, an older man in business attire stopped to give me a startled look.
"What's the matter?" I said. "You've never heard the word 'fuck' before?"
He drew back, and I felt my righteous indignation crumble. Oh God, I was turning into Maddie. And Bianca. Cripes, I was a walking parody of every girl that Jake had ever been with. In the end, they were all the same – crazy, loud – my shoulders sagged – heartbroken.
I turned to the guy and choked out, "I'm really sorry about that. Honest."
Before he could answer, I was already halfway across the street. I heard tires screech and a horn honk. Something whizzed by my back – a pickup truck. Damn it. Blindly, I kept on going until I reached the opposite sidewalk.
Once there, I stopped, dumbstruck, to stare at the fence that surrounded the construction zone. I laughed – not a good laugh, the other kind, the kind you hear in horror movies just before some co-ed gets it with a chainsaw.
From gaps in the chain link, bits of colorful silk and satin were flapping in the wind. Yup, my undergarments.
Some pervert had dug them out of the trash and strung them around the metal like some sort of ode to undies. My undies, in fact.
I lowered my head and plowed forward, pushing through the gate and making a beeline for the job-trailer.
Blindly, I threw open the door and stumbled inside. It was empty. Thank God.
I threw what little stuff I had into my crappy suitcases and glanced around. I spotted Steve's cell phone atop a random pizza box and dove for it. Clutching the phone, I dug through my purse until I found the business card I was looking for.
I dialed. And waited.
I didn't have to wait long. He answered on the second ring.
My voice was shaky, but my resolve was firm. "Hello Vince?" I said. "About that job offer…"
Chapter 36
That day, I changed everything – my job, my home, and even my name. For once, I decided, I'd go by th
e one I was born with.
Luna Moon.
Heaven help me.
Why use the name after all this time? I still wasn't sure. Maybe I just didn't care enough to pick a new one. Or maybe it was sentimental, some pathetic tribute the name that Jake liked best – assuming I could believe anything he had told me during those few days of bliss.
As for the money Jake had given me, I'd returned it by mail through a certified check. I had been planning to return it anyway, but somehow, it seemed important to just get it over with already.
I'd been at my new job for exactly one week, and so far, it was everything Vince had claimed and then some. I had a private office, a company car, a great salary, and the work was surprisingly interesting.
During my first week, I'd spent most of my time helping to organize events and publicity appearances for the sports stars that Vince represented. Just like Vince had predicted, my degree and experience were actually coming in handy.
So why, I wondered for the millionth time, wasn't I happy? But I shouldn’t have wondered, because the answer was all too obvious.
It was because of Jake.
Our story wasn't supposed to end this way.
But it had, just like it had for all the other girls in Jake's life. But unlike them, I vowed, I'd move on. I'd just forget him. Not a big deal. In a month, he'd feel like ancient history.
"Yeah, right," I muttered.
From my open office door, I heard a male voice say, "What?"
I looked up to see Vince, standing in my doorway, frowning.
No wonder, with his employees talking to themselves and all.
"Sorry," I said. "Just thinking out loud."
He strode into my office and shut the door behind him. "We need to talk."
Great. Just what every new employee wanted to hear. Still, I looked up and gave him a smile. "Sure. Is there a problem?"
"You might say that." He glanced to my right, where my computer was located on a side-desk, with the screen facing me. "He's done it again."
I turned to look at my computer screen. On it, all I saw was a spreadsheet detailing expenses for an upcoming publicity event.
"I guess I'm not following," I admitted. "Who is 'him'?"
"Your boyfriend."
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