Revenge 2

by JJ Knight

  His shoulders raise in a shrug.

  I reach for the van’s door handle. I need to get the hell out of here, and maybe out of LA entirely, even if it means cashing in that plane ticket.

  Nick starts the van’s engine. “Let’s have lunch,” he says.

  I really don’t want to cash in that return ticket. People will know I failed.

  I let go of the handle and turn back to face him. “Fine. Let’s get lunch, and you can explain everything.”

  He pulls out of the parking spot slowly, like a normal person.

  My emotions and internal thoughts are still racing around like crazy. I have to think about my breathing and try to deepen it. I need oxygen in my brain.

  Nick drives us to a burger place with a fifties theme. We park the van and walk across the asphalt parking lot. The sun is now high overhead, and sizzling hot.

  The inside of the restaurant is crisp and cool. The lunch rush hasn’t started yet. The place is almost empty, so the waitress seats us at a big booth in the corner. She takes our drink order first. My mind is blank, so I just copy Nick’s order.

  The waitress walks away, her shoes squeaking with each heavy step.

  “Does this place look familiar?” Nick asks me.

  I look around the restaurant interior, at all the shining booths and huge windows beyond.

  “Yeah. Like I’ve seen it in a movie.”

  “We are in LA,” he replies. “If you see a place that looks familiar, you’ve probably been there before… in a movie.”

  The waitress comes by with our drinks and takes our order. I’m not hungry at all, but I order a burger and fries. Nick orders a tofu burger. Why am I not surprised Nick eats tofu? He looks like someone who eats tofu.

  After she leaves, I say, “Was it Pulp Fiction? Is that where I know this diner from?”

  “You’re thinking of Hawthorne Grill. It’s actually been torn down, and something else is there. Car parts, maybe? Not a diner.”

  “This place reminds me of that one.”

  Nick takes a sip of his Mountain Dew. I take a sip of mine. The sugar and caffeine hit my system instantly. I feel like a zombie coming back to life by magic.

  “So, what’s the spy stuff for?” I ask. “Give me enough of an explanation so that I don’t call the police and sic them on your skinny ass.”

  “Maybe I’m with the police.”

  I stare him straight in the eyes. It’s hard to stare Nick in the eyes because the piercings in his eyebrows are distracting.

  “Show me your badge,” I say.

  He takes another sip of his drink. “Fine. I’m not with the police. Or the FBI. Or the CIA.”

  “Then why do you have spy cameras in Dylan’s place?”

  He taps his fingers on the table.

  “Because it’s my place. He’s renting it from me.”

  “You’re sick. I’m going to tell him.”

  “The cameras are only in the living room and the kitchen. It’s just… for security purposes. I need to protect my investment. But enough about me. What happened in the big meeting today?”

  I stare at his face. He’s lying to me. I’m sure he’s lying, but what can I do? I can’t force him to take a lie detector test.

  He asks me again. “What happened at the meeting.”

  “You probably already know.”

  “Can you just trust me that I’m watching your back?”

  His eyebrows raise. He doesn’t usually show much emotion, but the look he gives me is so sweet, it might give me a cavity.

  “Okay, Mr. Super Spy. Does Dylan know you own that place?”

  “No. It’s rented out through an agency. They do short term furnished rentals. Can you believe they take thirty percent? It’s outrageous.”

  I wave my hand. I really don’t care about real estate deals.

  “What do you know about Dylan?”

  “About the same amount you know.” He sips his drink. “Except I don’t know how supple his lips feel on mine.”

  I kick him under the table. “I can’t believe you were watching all that.”

  “You need a friend,” he says.

  Nodding in agreement, I study Nick’s face.

  Can I trust Nick?

  I want to trust him.

  But just because I want something doesn’t mean it’s good for me.

  Chapter 5

  After lunch, Nick drops me off at my house.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” I ask.

  He looks over at me from the driver’s seat of the van. He blinks slowly.

  “Would you rather come back and spend the afternoon in the basement archives?” he asks.

  “I don’t want the executives to think I’m getting closer to Dylan when I’m not. I don’t like lying.”

  “They won’t expect you to seduce Dylan in one day. These things take time.”

  “I really messed up.”

  “Why would you say that? Dylan was the one who started getting rough with you. I almost kicked the door down. You looked like a nervous girl who wanted to go slow, and he did the opposite.”

  Sighing, I push open the van door and step out.

  “Thanks for the ride.” I give Nick a cheerful wave.

  “See you in the basement tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s it? I’m back to the archives? They won’t put me into that training program for Eye Candy?”

  “Until you get orders from the ninth floor or the tenth floor, I’m sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

  I sigh again and close the van door.

  My whole body is heavy as I walk up to the door of the house I share with my two roommates.

  With a groan, I stop.

  My keys. My bag. Everything’s back at the office.

  I turn around to find the van still there, at the sidewalk.

  Nick rolls down the window and holds out my bag.

  “Looking for this?”

  I jog back and take the bag.

  He gives me a wave goodbye, and this time he drives away.

  I stare after the back of the van as it disappears down the street.

  Maybe Nick really is a good guy, and I can trust him. This gives me a hopeful feeling, like I’m not so alone. For a moment, the wide open space around me doesn’t feel too scary and big.

  I let myself into the house and sit down in my bedroom with my laptop.

  For the next few hours, I look at the usual websites. Nothing seems interesting. The sites I used to follow seem stupid now.

  What has changed? I used to love all these music and fashion blogs. Now I can’t even be interested to catch up on what I’ve missed since I moved.

  Compared to my real life, these blogs are so tame. Why would I read about hot guys I’ll never meet when I’ve got a genuine hot guy in my life right now?

  I close the laptop and run my finger over my lips, remembering.

  The way Dylan talked me into closing my eyes for three minutes seems hilarious now. I giggle to myself remembering. Why didn’t I poke holes in his logic? He said I had to pay a price for seeing his rented apartment. But he was the one who wanted to show me the place. I never asked.

  That guy. I laugh again, shaking my head.

  That guy had me wrapped around his finger today.

  Isn’t it supposed to be the girl who charms the guy? Shouldn’t I be keeping him on his toes? If only I knew how, I totally would.

  When he pulled me down onto his lap, all that body contact was so sudden and intense. I couldn’t believe how good it felt.

  And then… when he pushed me onto my back on the couch…

  My whole body gets flushed now. My skin is hot all over. He put his hand between my legs. Everything happened so fast. We were playing around, and having fun.

  When he slipped his hand down into my panties, I could hardly breathe. And the way his fingers felt…

  I don’t understand my own body. I’ve put my fingers there, to see what the fuss is about, and I’ve never felt anything
like that. It was overwhelming. The pleasure completely took over my body. I found myself moving in ways I never imagined.

  But then something happened and broke the spell.

  Dylan still had complete control over my body, but he pulled away. And then he said the most awful things. He talked about getting it over with. Like taking me was some chore he didn’t want to do.

  I must have done something wrong. I could have sworn he liked me up until that point.

  The only thing I can imagine is that he doesn’t trust me. He must think I was lying to him. He probably didn’t believe me that I’m a virgin.

  Damn it.

  Why did I have to get that extreme waxing job done before I came out to LA? He’s probably right. Most virgins don’t get their whole area waxed, I bet. How could I be so dense?

  I slap myself on my forehead.

  I’m still being dense.

  Here I am, sitting in my bedroom, making excuses for Dylan Wolf. I’m actually twisting things around in my head, so this afternoon was my fault. Oh, Jess, you silly girl, how old are you?

  I’m not some dumb teenager. I’m twenty-two, and I have a college degree. Sure, my degree is just from a community college, but I was at the top of my class.

  I know I’m smart. Now I just have to prove it to myself by being smart about Dylan.

  Today, he acted like an asshole. If a guy acts that way, it’s because he is that way. Dylan Wolf might be gorgeous, and a great singer with an incredible body, but he’s an asshole.

  If I’m going to lose my virginity to someone, it’s not going to be to someone who acts like such an asshole.

  When I get to work tomorrow, I’m going to tell them the deal is off.

  I’m not their Eye Candy or whatever they want to call it.

  I’m not their hooker.

  Chapter 6

  On Thursday morning, I stare at my new pink clothes in the closet. My stomach flips around with nervousness.

  I felt so sure of myself last night, but this morning I don’t know.

  When I get to work and tell my bosses I won’t be their whore, what will happen? Things can’t possibly get worse than working in the archives, unless they fire me. That would be worse.

  Then again, if they fire me, I’ll cash in my plane ticket. I’ll go home and pick up my old life. My friends will make fun of me, but I deserve it. I was delusional to think I had a career in LA.

  I take the pink clothes and shoes and push them to the back of the closet. Just looking at that stuff makes me feel sick. I almost agreed to being their whore.

  And I almost let Dylan Wolf have me. He was right on top of me, and I could feel how much he wanted me. But I couldn’t go through with having sex with him, because…

  Because I was scared.

  I can tell myself it was about my pride, but that’s not the whole picture.

  The truth is, I was scared. I wanted to feel his skin on mine, his lips gasping for breath against mine. But I couldn’t take a chance, because I was scared.

  Just like I’m scared right now, running out the door to catch the bus. It’s not about anything specific, like a mugging. It’s bigger than that.

  My whole future is a blank book when I’m here in LA.

  Anything can happen.

  My life isn’t mapped out for me here like it is back home.

  Those blank pages scare me.

  I try to think happy, boring thoughts on the way to work. I look around at the clothes that people on the bus are wearing. Some girls my age are talking about nail polish.

  I keep sneaking looks over at the group of girls across the aisle from me. There are three girls, and two of them keep teasing the one. First, it’s just about nail polish. She likes to wear green. Then it turns to teasing her about being a virgin.

  I shouldn’t stare, but I do. Why is she a virgin? She’s so pretty, with golden blonde hair. She could have any guy she wanted. She could get a guy like Dylan Wolf.

  As soon as I think about him, I feel a stabbing pain in my guts.

  The jealousy is so bad. I clench my fists and remind myself it’s just my imagination. The pretty blonde girl isn’t trying to sleep with Dylan. My jealousy creeps all through my body, taking over. The feeling possesses me like a demon.

  I can’t even look at the pretty blonde without wanting to choke her.

  I’m so distracted, I almost miss my stop.

  I run off the bus and into the building.

  The security guards greet me with a smile today. I fumble with my keycard and go through the metal detector. Once I’m through, they don’t even look at me, because they’re distracted.

  All of the security guys have their mouths open, and they’re practically drooling over the girls who walked in behind me. It’s the three girls from the bus. I linger by the elevator, listening in. They’re here for a backup singer audition.

  My guts twist with insane jealousy again. They’re probably here for something completely unrelated to Dylan. I’m just making myself nuts, and I know it.

  But if I see him talking to the blonde, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  I get in the elevator and push the button.

  A minute later, the elevator doors open. The smell of dust hits my nose.

  Am I in Hell? Nope, just the basement.

  I step through the doors and walk over to the two desks covered in cardboard boxes and dusty old junk.

  “Good morning,” Nick says. He doesn’t even look up at me, much less acknowledge what happened yesterday.

  “Good morning to you,” I say as I take my seat.

  For the next few hours, we don’t say anything.

  We both just work. I take hard copy photos from dusty boxes and scan them into digital files.

  I keep glancing at the phone on his desk.

  I don’t know about Nick, but I’m on pins and needles waiting for the phone to ring.

  We go for lunch, where Nick treats me to a hot lunch in the cafeteria.

  Then we come back down to the archives and work some more.

  The phone doesn’t ring. Nobody has contacted me about what happened yesterday. I ask Nick if I should go up and report to Stephanie, but he says it doesn’t work that way. Part of my job as Eye Candy is being undercover, he says.

  Crap. Working in the archives is crap.

  Five o’clock comes, and we finally get up to leave.

  I never want to see this room again.

  I go home, eat, sleep, get up, take the bus, and I’m back here again Friday morning. Did I ever leave?

  Crap. Another day of putting disks in and out of an old disk drive.

  I fantasize about smashing my fingers between the metal shelves, just so I can take sick leave.

  “Plans for the weekend?” Nick asks.

  It’s four o’clock on Friday afternoon. I’ve been watching the clock on my computer. I swear the numbers go backward when I look away.

  “Groceries. Laundry. Applying for other jobs.” I put my hand over my mouth, pretending that last part was an accident. “Oh, was that out loud?”

  “Maybe you’ll have some fun tonight,” he says. His voice seems to be hinting at more than he’s saying.

  “Yeah, right. I’ll have fun staying home in my pajamas.”

  “Either way, I think you’ll have fun. In fact, staying home in your pajamas is a great idea. Keep yourself available. Don’t go out. If you’re at home, that makes you easy to find.”

  “You are so weird, Nick. Have you been spying on people with your spycams? What do you know?”

  “I have eyes and ears. Have fun tonight.”

  I snort and make a pouty face. “Everyone around here is so mysterious. Especially you.”

  “Maybe we have good reasons. A million good reasons.”

  “What the hell?”

  He runs his fingertips along his lips like he’s zipping them up. He twists his hand like he’s locking them with a key. And now he’s tossing the key away.

  Great.

>   Something’s going on.

  It could be something good, or it could be something horrible.

  Judging by the way my life has been going, I’m sure it won’t be good. Maybe I’ll get murdered. That would be great, because I won’t have to return to the basement archives on Monday.

  Chapter 7

  Amanda stands in the doorway of my bedroom.

  “I like what you’ve done to the place,” she says.

  It’s Friday night, and I’m hanging out in my rented bedroom until she leaves. We both look around at the bare walls, the color of chocolate milk. She’s being sarcastic, because I haven’t put up a single decoration.

  “Amanda, you saw the tiny suitcase I came here with.”

  “Why didn’t you bring more stuff?” She comes into my room without being invited and picks up the teddy bear from my bed. “Who’s this?”

  “My teddy bear doesn’t have a name.”

  “But obviously this bear is important, or you wouldn’t have brought it in your tiny luggage.”

  She sits on the edge of my bed, waiting for an answer.

  “It’s Friday night,” I say to her. “If you’re not working at the bar tonight, shouldn’t you be out having a good time? What’s that guy Caleb up to? Is he a friend with benefits? What’s the deal?”

  “Let’s get drunk,” she says.

  “I’m allergic to alcohol.”

  “Shut up you bitch, you are not.”

  I don’t like her calling me bitch, even if it’s a joke, but I’ll let this one go. I close my old laptop so she can’t see what’s on the screen. Raising my arms over my head, I stretch my back.

  “Seriously,” she says. “Are you really allergic to drinking? I have a friend who says she’s allergic, but she just gets drunk faster. She’s a cheap date.” Amanda laughs. “Lucky bitch.”

  “If I drink, my face gets really flushed, and I get dizzy.”

  Amanda howls with laughter. She squeezes my teddy in her arms. I can smell the sweet-scented body spray she douses herself in. She’s probably getting her tramp stench all over my teddy bear.

  “That’s called being drunk!” she yells at me. “You’re not allergic, dummy. Come on. Let’s do a booze run. We’ll get some of that coconut shit teenagers drink.”

  I twirl around on the swivel chair next to the desk. One of the reasons I picked this shared house over an apartment was because it came furnished. Nan got me Amanda’s email address from her father, and we emailed a few times. When I saw a photo of the bedroom she and our other roommate were renting out, I got a good feeling. I could see myself sitting at this old wooden desk, sitting on the old-fashioned chair.