A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2)

by Q. T. Ruby

  “Oh hush. I think we should be fine over here,” I say.

  “We only moved like five feet,” Bridget says.

  “True, but if we move any farther, I won’t be able to see Dan. I can peek over your shoulders at him now.” Rodney has stepped away from Dan, who’s talking to someone else, but glancing my way every few seconds. I sigh—this is much harder than I thought it’d be.

  “Claire, I hate to tell you this, but I have to use the restroom,” Camille says.

  “I’ll stay here,” says Bridget as Camille heads off.

  “There are a lot of famous people here,” Bridget says, looking around. I nod, sip, and look around, too. She’s right, I guess. I hadn’t noticed anyone but Dan.

  “Looking for me?” someone says from behind me. I gasp and jump back as I spin around. Ian. Disgusted, I turn my back on him.

  He shifts in front of me. “Hi, Claire. So really, you must be looking for me, because I know you’re not looking for your ex. He’s with that new girl over there—the one with the long dark hair—tight red dress—see her?” He’s pointing, and I’m just noticing Dan’s “date” hovering near him. What I wouldn’t give to be her right now.

  “Come to think of it, she kind of looks like you. I guess you’re hard to replace. But honestly, she can’t compete. So, how are you handling the breakup, by the way? Need any comfort? I’m really good with comforting women; it’s a specialty of mine. Red dress girl recently broke up with her longtime boyfriend, too, and I was there, listening to her, letting her cry on my shoulder, showing her what it’s like to be with a real man.”

  Eww.

  My eyes haven’t left Dan, and he’s just noticed Ian standing next to me, because his eyes widen in anger and his jaw clenches. He’s shaking his head. I need to get Ian away from me.

  “Do you really think you’ll get anywhere with me? Just go away.”

  Ian steps closer to me and whispers, “I wonder if you’re still in love with him. Are you? Is this thing here just a game?” He points between Dan and I. “Hmmm. I wonder . . .” He strokes his chin with an evil grin on his stupid face.

  “Go away, Ian. Just go the fuck away,” I say, turning my back on him once more. I glance in Dan’s direction. He’s redder now, his fists are tight, and I sense that something really bad is about to happen. I shake my head at Dan, trying to signal I’ve got this under control.

  Ian wrenches my arm back, causing me to spin around and lose my balance. He catches me in his arms and kisses me hard, trying to slip his tongue in my mouth. Wiggling around as much as I can, I try to push him off me, but he’s got me locked tight; I really can’t move. Bridget pulls at Ian’s arm, but he hip checks her away. In what feels like slow motion, Dan yanks Ian off me, cocks his arm back, and lands his clenched fist in Ian’s face. Ian falls to the floor and skids a few feet before he stops, holding his cheek. His nose is bleeding, too, but he’s got this wicked grin on his face.

  Dan quickly helps Bridget to her feet then is at my side, asking if I’m okay. Suddenly, Rodney appears with a few other beefy men who seem to be security. A crowd is forming around us.

  “He assaulted me!” Ian shouts as he stands, pointing at Dan with the hand that’s not stopping the flow of blood from dripping down his face. “Arrest him!”

  “Fuck off! You accosted her!” Dan’s got his arm around me, holding me to his side, but there’s too much commotion to enjoy it.

  The security guys grab Dan’s arms. “Wait! No!” I reach out for Dan. “You can’t take him. He was defending me!”

  They stop, looking back and forth from Ian to me.

  “She kissed me! She wouldn’t let me go!” Ian says. “You’re lucky I don’t press charges against you, too, you crazed fan!” Ian is lead off by a few security guys to a closed door on the right of the room.

  “You fucking liar!” I shout. Bridget’s face is white, but she’s by my side as is Camille who’s just come back from the bathroom, and they’re pulling me back.

  Unable to do anything, the three of us stand there while a different security team hauls Dan away from me to some back room to the left.

  Fuck!

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It’s been days, and my anger hasn’t subsided. Not even remotely. Ian planned this. I’m sure of it. I haven’t heard from Dan, either, but I have heard from all the entertainment news shows, the Internet, and, of course, my mother.

  “What is happening now, Claire? Dan accosted another man and now has charges pending against him? I cannot tell you how happy I am that you’re no longer with him. Thank God you dodged that bullet. Now you can focus on finding a good man, someone who’s worthy of you.” Which sounds exactly like something Ian would say. God, it makes me ragey. But rather than try to explain the confusion and complication that is my love life, I stay silent and let her rant. It’s just easier that way.

  Finally, with that off her chest, she fills me in on the minute details of my father’s surprise party. “He has no idea, and so far everyone’s coming, and I rented the tent to be attached to the back of the house, and your brothers are taking him out for the day. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful.”

  The phone call ends, and I’m as agitated as I was before, maybe even more so. I begin cleaning things and muttering to myself. Camille catches me in the bathroom on all fours, scrubbing the floor.

  “You know, if you want to go to the ball, you’re going to need to finish that by eight, Cinderella.”

  I glance up at her, and she’s smiling. But I’m not. I continue scrubbing. “I just can’t shake the anger, Camille. Everyone has the situation wrong. Ian’s pressing charges, which by all news accounts will seriously fuck up Dan’s career . . . I should have hit Ian myself. Kneed him or something. Not to mention that I’m so fucking depressed I can’t see or even talk to Dan. To top it off, he’s going here and there with these young, pretty actresses, and I’m here, scrubbing floors, waiting for time to pass. Hopefully our relationship can just pick up where it left off, but who the fuck knows? Maybe he blames me for everything. Maybe he’s good with being away from me now.” Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.

  She bends down and touches my hand. “There’s nothing you can do. You didn’t do anything wrong; I’m sure he doesn’t blame you.”

  From the living room, I hear the door buzz and the sound of feet as Bridget answers it.

  “Seriously, it’ll be okay—one way or another, it will. And you’ll be okay,” Camille says.

  Bridget joins us in the bathroom. “Is this the new meeting spot? Kinda cramped, no?” She looks from what is certainly my crabby expression to Camille’s normal face. “Anyway, this is for you.” She hands me an express-delivery envelope. I tear it open and read aloud:

  Go out to dinner with me and I won’t press charges.

  Call this number to respond. 212-555-8899.

  “Who’s that from?” asks Bridget.

  “Ian, I’m sure. He didn’t sign his name, so he could probably feign innocence if I showed this to anyone of consequence.”

  “Wow. I didn’t think he could get any lower,” Camille says.

  A ray of hope suddenly streams through the storm clouds in my head. I stand, hopeful, renewed. “Wait . . . if I go out to dinner with Ian, Dan won’t have charges pressed against him. I can help him.”

  “You can’t do that. You aren’t doing that,” Camille says.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Ian’s a slimeball. God only knows what he wants.”

  “I’ll keep it public. Meet him there, eat, leave on my own. Oh! You guys can come with me, too—sit at a nearby table or something.” Once again, they look at me like I’m insane. “I’m not crazy.”

  “Nope, not at all. Just certifiable. Dan will hit the roof, Claire,” Camille says.

  “But I’m doing it
for him—to help him, not to hurt him. He’ll understand that.”

  The next morning I call the number, which turns out to be Ian’s agent, and accept the invitation. I make sure to mention that I want the deal in writing, because I’m thinking ahead for once!

  Afterward, I head to the practice room and begin work on another song, this time for Cora Karr, the newest sixteen-year-old music sensation. I’m making solid progress when my phone rings. I answer absently. “Hello?”

  “Don’t even think of going out with him.”

  “Dan?”

  “Yes. That motherfucking douchebag sent me a message that since you’ve agreed to dinner with him, he’ll drop the charges. You are not—NOT—to go anywhere with him.”

  “Are you at the library again?”

  “Yes, and you’d better be listening to me, Claire. Don’t even think of it.”

  “I get why you’re upset, but there’s no way I’m going to let him press charges against you. It could ruin your career. It’s not worth it.”

  “Wrong. My career will be fine. People come back from all sorts of things.”

  “There’s no reason to ‘come back’ from anything. Did you get in trouble with Sushman for it?”

  He sighs. “This entire situation is . . . beyond fucked up. Sushman loved that I punched another guy—said it was perfectly in character—but was upset because it was over you, and now there’s speculation that we might be together. He interrogated me to see if it was a coincidence or not. Jesus. Who the fuck cares at this point? What’s going to happen if we—ugh. I’m losing my mind, Claire. I’m not myself. I’m frustrated and tense and . . . there are no more dinners in the freezer, so I don’t even have that. You looked beautiful that night, by the way. Beautiful. I miss you so fucking much.”

  My heart aches. “I miss you, too—so much. I wish I could hug you right now.” Tears well in my eyes. He sounds so sad and it’s killing me. “I know you don’t want me to go out with Ian, but it’s only dinner. What’s Len think?”

  “Who cares what Len thinks?” he snaps.

  “Len doesn’t think it’s such a bad idea, huh?”

  He growls. “He doesn’t think it’s a bad thing, but . . . it’s Ian. He’s—”

  “Creepy. I know, but I’ll be fine, and we’ll be in public. Plus, Camille and Bridget will be there, hidden of course, so I’ll be okay. I promise. Let’s talk about other things, like how much sex we’re going to have once this is finally over.” I’m desperate to lighten the mood, because I can hardly stand all the tension.

  He laughs half-heartedly. “Sex? What’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s a fabulous fifteen minute adventure—or so I’ve heard.”

  “Is this weekend your dad’s party?”

  “Yes, and if anyone is going to miss anything, it’s me who’ll miss you at my dad’s party on Saturday. You’ve been the best distraction at family gatherings. At least Camille and Bridget are coming, so that’ll be nice. I think my dad will be surprised.”

  “Surprises are always nice.”

  “Yeah, they are. I always like your surprises.”

  “Surprising you is one of my favorite things. Shit. Rodney’s getting out of the car. I’ll try to call in a few days, but listen to what I said, Claire.”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  On Saturday morning, Camille, Bridget, and I head to my parents’ house. My dad should already be out, and we’re helping my mother get last minute things done. Hopefully, she’ll be too busy with the party to talk about my life.

  And miracle of miracles, that’s exactly what happens. My mom spends the day delegating jobs. By early evening, everything is all set, and the girls and I freshen up in my old bedroom.

  “It’s weird being here without Dan,” I say, sliding on dressy black pants and a soft, fuzzy purple sweater.

  “How many more weeks?”

  “Three.”

  “Well, it’s almost over, right?” Camille asks.

  “Feels like years have passed.” I sigh, straightening out my sweater.

  “Tonight’s a good distraction, at least.”

  “True.”

  All dressed and ready for the party, we go downstairs. The house looks stunning. My mother hired a decorating team to come in to strategically place twinkling lights, candles, and bouquets of fresh flowers. Tables are set up in the tented area that opens up off the French doors in the living room. The same decorations follow in there, too. The caterers have taken over the kitchen, and the smell is amazing.

  “People should be arriving any moment!” my mother says as she’s smoothing out her silky, designer dress.

  “You look very pretty, Mom,” I say without thinking, and she gives me a surprised look that makes me feel awkward about the compliment. I guess we’ve gotten so used to being at odds.

  “You look lovely yourself, honey.” She kisses me on the cheek.

  The doorbell rings, and she’s off to answer it. In the next thirty minutes, droves of relatives and my parents’ friends arrive. The buzz of anticipation of my dad’s arrival turns into his overwhelming surprise and watery-eyed happiness. He’s hugging everyone and beaming with my mom right next to him, holding his hand and glowing. I’m not sure I’ve ever appreciated how much they genuinely enjoy and love each other. We take some family photos while hors d’oeuvres and drinks are passed around.

  After dinner, there’s dancing. I can’t believe my mother planned for people to dance, but she did! It’s wonderful to watch my dad lead my mother, who floats along with him to the music.

  “Hello,” I hear from behind me. I turn and blink, momentarily confused.

  “Dan!” I wrap my arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over. “What—why—how did you get here? Oh my God!” I kiss him.

  He pulls back to answer, but keeps a tight hold around my waist. “You have no idea the amount of lying I had to do to get here—but here I am. Surprise!”

  I giggle and hug him again—so tightly I notice him struggling to breathe for a second. Camille and Bridget come over. “Hey! So good to see you!” Camille says, giving Dan a quick hug.

  “You’ve raised the bar for men, Dan,” Bridget says, laughing as she gives him a hug, too.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” I say again, wrapping my arms around his waist once more. I’m never letting go!

  “Well, let’s make the most of it.” He nods to the dance floor. “I’m not a great dancer, but would you like to dance?”

  I beam at him, and I’m bouncing a bit, hardly able to contain my excitement. “Yes!” He takes my hand to lead me out there, and we dance to a Sinatra song. “How long can you stay?” I link my hands around his neck; he links his around my waist. We move slowly in a tight circle. Our bubble is intact!

  “I only have a couple of hours and then a flight back to L.A.” He kisses my head. As I glance around the room, I catch my dad’s eye across the dance floor. He grins and winks at me, which surprises me because it’s like he understands.

  I focus again on Dan. “How did you get here? I thought you were on lockdown. And what happened to Rodney?”

  “Interestingly enough, Rodney ate some really bad food.”

  “Oh my God—you poisoned him, didn’t you?” I say, laughing.

  Dan laughs, shaking his head. “Rodney has no idea what made him sick—and neither do I—but he’s so embarrassed about being sick he made me promise not to rat on him, so . . . I told him I’d be out for a bit, and here I am.”

  “Clear across the country? Thank you for taking the chance.” I stop dancing and hug him hard.

  “Of course.” He pulls back to look at me. “Plus, now I can remind you—in person—that you’re not going anywhere with Ian.”

  “That’s not why you
came here, is it? To tell me that?”

  “It’s not the only reason, but . . .” He twirls me unexpectedly then snatches me closely, rubbing his scruffy face into my neck.

  Laughing, I wiggle away, but we remain in our bubble, semi-dancing. “You came all this way—the best secret surprise—and since you aren’t staying long, let’s not talk about Ian, okay?” I finger the pokey ends of hair at the back of his neck, stirring up the soap-and-shaving-cream scent. “Your hair is getting longer.”

  “You’re getting prettier.” He gazes down at me, his eyes searching.

  Blushing, I fall under his spell. I breathe deeply and rest my ear against his chest. His heartbeat, strong and right here, pulses rhythmically. I tear up. I don’t ever want him to go.

  When the song ends he lifts my chin and kisses me sweetly. “My love,” he whispers. Hand-in-hand, we leave the dance floor, and Camille and Bridget start hammering him with questions.

  “I’ll go get us a drink while the investigators interrogate you—their favorite pastime.” I giggle. “I’ll be right back.”

  He nods, and they begin talking while I head to the minibar on the other side of the dance floor. As the drinks are being made, I turn around, and watch Dan laugh with Camille and Bridget. God, he’s beautiful. Mr. Beautiful.

  “Claire?”

  I hear someone call my name from behind me. I turn to grab the drinks when I realize it’s not the bartender calling my name, it’s . . . “Mark?” Am I seeing right? I blink to clear my vision.

  “Hi. How are you?” He grins and glances around nervously.

  My heart’s stopped and I can hardly breathe. “Wh—How—Why are you here?”

  He squirms, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants. I notice he’s dressed as preppy as ever. “Uh, well—”

  “Mark! How are you? I’m so glad you could make it,” my mother says, smiling wide as she walks over. She leans in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. I take the moment to notice that he looks mostly the same, except with slightly longer hair that’s a bit slicked back and is sporting a beard.