And I frown. “I don’t think it’s anyone’s bar. Except for, you know, the guy who actually owns it.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She scowls. “This place is like our second home. We get off work, out of school and we come here to let loose, to hook up with guys who are actually attainable.”
“I’m sorry, what is your point?” I rub my forehead.
“My point is, get your trampy friend out of here. She’s an attention whore and it’s pissing a lot of people off.”
I squint toward the pool table again. I can’t see through the group of guys, but I can hear whoops of laughter and based on the way they all stand there, pool cues propped beside them, gazes leering forward, I can tell something—someone, more likely—has their full attention.
“I have no friends.” Why did I just say that? Then again, who cares? It’s fucking true isn’t it?
“Well, Matt said that rocker chick came in here looking for you. Then she managed to get distracted.” Blondie crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing.
I sigh and slide out of the booth.
“Aren’t you going to do something?”
I shake my head. “Are you serious?”
The expression on her face tells me she is. And that she genuinely expects me to save the day.
“Look, what’s your name?”
“Darla.”
“Look, Darla. I’ve had a long day. Fuck that, I’ve had a long seven weeks. My cousin almost died, I almost lost my job, I saved it but at the expense of a really great guy and now I’m stuck in this bar, when I’d rather be at my favorite one down town, I’m drinking shitty beer and listening to you whine because the boy you like like’s someone else. What is this high school? Grow the hell up.”
Darla jumps to her feet, her jaw twitching. Then she flips her hair over her shoulder and levels her chin. “I thought you’d understand.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice rising an octave. “Why would I understand that? Even if this cock-blocker were my friend, why would I give a damn that you’re mad about it? There are plenty of bars in this city. Take a walk.”
Her mouth parts, then her gaze turns hard as she flares her nose. “Bitch,” she mutters, then turns around and marches back toward her friends.
I sigh again, this time my stomach twisting. I didn’t have to be so mean about it, but she doesn’t have to be such a baby either. That’s why I don’t come to this place. It’s like walking into a soap opera. I miss my pretentious, preppy bar. Where agents go to brag about how much money they made this month and girls never feel the need to start a catfight. I miss my tequila and cute football players in booths who invite you to drink with them. Sadness washes over me as I make my way to the exit. I miss Ray.
As I pass by the pool table, I finally catch a glimpse of mystery chick.
The girl is tall with taut bare legs in a skintight micro mini. On her feet is a pair of chunky heeled Mary Janes and she’s got about ten silver anklets draped around her ankles.
She is wearing a cut-off denim button down, that’s only fastened by a huge safety pin in the middle and she isn’t wearing a bra, that much is obvious by the way her nipples print through the fabric and her breast bob freely as she bends over to make another shot. As she does, her skirt rides up even higher, revealing a hint of the curve in her ass. Every guy’s eyes are on her and I can’t help but stare myself.
Her arms are covered in tattoos. They are small, but there are many. The guys begin their whooping again and she stands up and takes a bow, teetering on her feet. One of the guys reaches out to steady her and his hand lingers on her ass. She pulls her long dark hair up into a ponytail, then turns to swat him away. As she does, her hazy gray eyes fall on me.
She doesn’t smile, she only stares and everyone follows her gaze.
“You,” she says.
I force myself to keep my gaze fixed on hers instead of her fabulous woman-body. She’s beautiful and I suddenly feel inadequate. I suddenly feel Darla’s pain.
She beckons for me to come and I’m powerless, moving one foot in front of the other like a damn puppet.
“Hi,” I say, standing in front of her.
She still doesn’t smile. “You’re Sydney.” It comes out in a pronounced slur and she reaches behind her for a shot glass.
I nod.
She tips the glass back and hands it to the guy next to her. “Want to play?” she asks me.
“Actually, I was just about to head home,” I say. “Long day.”
“Bet you it was nothing compared to the day I had,” she replies. “You know I followed you here?” she asks.
I frown. “Didn’t know that.”
She nods. “From the press conference. I’m pretty stealthy when I want to be. My plan was to waltz in there and make a little statement of my own, but even I’m not that much of a drama queen. Despite what they’re all saying back home.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and pushes her pool cue toward another guy. “I thought you were supposed to be like a P.I. or something.” She perches on the edge of the table, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles.
“I…am.”
She laughs. “A P.I. who doesn’t know someone’s following her? Fucking lame.”
I shrug. “Like I said, long day.” I cross my arms. “So, why were you following me?”
She grabs another drink from the edge of the pool table, and sucks it back. Then another, downing it just a few seconds. “Because you’re interesting,” she says, licking her lips.
The hand propping her up slips and she falters to the side. This time I reach out to steady her, boxing out the guy with the stray hands.
“You’re pretty drunk,” I say. “Maybe you should slow down.”
“Maybe you should calm down,” she brushes me off, so I stand back holding up both hands in defense.
She stands to her full height, practically a head taller than me and wags a finger in front of my face.
“I followed you because you’re interesting. And you’re a P.I.” She twirls one of the silver chains hanging on her neck around one finger. “Even though you’re not a very good one.” She raises her eyebrows.
“Well, if I’m no good. Then you don’t need me do you?” I ask. “I’m gonna go.”
I turn away, focusing on the exit again.
“Well, you’re not that bad,” she says, stopping me in my tracks. “You found me didn’t you?”
I turn around, but don’t make a move toward her. I just stare again, filtering through the information in my brain. Trying to put it all together.
“Mariah?”
She takes the few steps toward me, placing both hands on her hips as she comes to stand in front of me. “In the flesh.”
“Wha—why are you here?”
“I told you. I followed and I need your help.”
I scoff. “With what?”
“Taking a bitch down. Once and for all.”
I lock the door behind me and flip on the light.
“Wow,” Mariah says, as she kicks off her shoes. “Glamorous.”
“It’s home,” I say.
She wanders over to the futon and plops down, sprawling out onto her back. “With a job like yours, you’d think you’d be able to afford a nicer place.”
“I don’t know what you think I do,” I reply. “But if you heard it from your brother, it’s probably wrong.”
She sits up and pats the mattress beside her. Her eyes lids keep drooping and, every so often, she lets out a tiny burp. “You’re that agent lady’s cousin and, like, her assistant or something. You’re also a private investigator and kind of a sell out. The perfect woman for the job.”
“I’m not a sell out.”
“Didn’t you get money for information on our family?”
I huff. “No, I didn’t. But your brother wouldn’t let me explain that. So…whatever. It was a friend. I asked him for help and he…well, he sold me out. I’m not a sell out. I’m just an idiot.”
/> Mariah hiccups, then her expression grows serious. “That blogger? He’s your friend? The one that kept begging me for an exclusive? I guess I’m not the only one who got sold out.” She props up on her elbows. “I believe you. But you’re going to have to convince him if you want him back.”
I frown. “I don’t…want him. It’s not—he’s just a client.”
“You sleep with all your clients?”
I bite my lip and move away from her. “I didn’t. We didn’t.”
“But you would have. You don’t go on a road trip and stay in a romantic cabin with a guy you don’t wish you could bang.” She grins. “I’m being a total bitch right now. Look, it’s obvious you and my brother have something going on. He’s totally irritable and when that bitch brought up your name he got all defensive. But then when I ask him about you he doesn’t want to talk about it. Classic brokenhearted guy material. Trust me, I know. But he’s totally into you, in case you were wondering.”
I don’t bother to acknowledge what I doubt is true.
“Who’s this bitch you keep talking about?”
“Like you don’t know. I hear she got her claws in you too.”
“Mrs. Carlson?”
Mariah grips my arm. “You have to help me. Ray things she’s fucking Mother Theresa, he has no idea what she’s capable of.”
“What?”
“She exiled me! That’s what. Packed me up and shipped me off.”
“No,” I say. “You ran away. That’s what Ray said. You got out of jail, were home for a few days and then you disappeared.” I cock an eyebrow. “Didn’t you?”
Mariah’s eyes widen. “Is that what she’s telling everyone?” She scoffs. “No wonder she was so apologetic earlier.”
“I don’t understand, Mariah. What are you saying? That you haven’t been a runaway for the past four years? Ray’s been looking for you. He thought they were too, until recently.”
She massages her scalp. “Like I said, I was sent away. The second I got out of juvie she had it in for me. Didn’t want me around ruining her precious preacher’s wife reputation. But it was way before that. She’s always had it out for me. I think it’s because I remind her of my mom.”
“Isn’t that her sister? Why would that make her hate you?”
“God knows. Maybe she was jealous of her or something.” Mariah scoffs. “I have my mom’s diaries. If you only knew the stuff that went down between them. A ton of drama between two of them and our dad.”
“Reverend Baker?”
“My…other dad.”
I scratch my head. “So wait, you’re saying your aunt hated your mother, so she hated you too, so she sent you away?”
She crosses her legs in front of her. “Well, she was more sneaky than that. Ray was away at school, so he didn’t know how hard it was when I first came back. She gave me all these rules to follow and told me if I broke even one, she’d send me away. I had to go to church every Sunday, quit smoking, I wasn’t allowed to talk to boys and I had to hang out with Ray’s snotty little girlfriend, Kristen. I couldn’t last two days without a cigarette. Kristen smells it, narcs on me, so of course I had to slap her.”
I sputter a laugh and shake my head. “You’re a piece of work.”
“That’s what Aunt Bitchy said. Then sent me to this group home in Boise. After one stupid mistake. I was planning on giving it all back too. It’s not like it was really worth anything anyway. But she had to get all judgmental. Guess she never told Ray.” She sighs, her expression going dark. “I always thought he knew. That he was an asshole for not coming for me. I can’t believe she lied to him like that. She’s got him wrapped around her finger and he doesn’t even know who she is. I want to tell him, but I can’t just go in there with words.”
“You want me to prove it.”
She nods. “I don’t know how. It’s not like I recorded the whole thing. It’s my word against hers”
“Not necessarily. You would have been, what, sixteen, seventeen?
“Two weeks shy of my eighteenth.”
“If she checked you into a group home, she would have had to sign for you. Not to mention travel. How’d you get there?”
“Greyhound.”
“Well,” I say. “There’ll be a record of the tickets, the ticket sale, which was probably put on her credit card, not to mention phone records with the owners of the group home. Whoever facilitated your transition would have had to sign something too. That’s all the proof you need.”
“And you can get that?”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “I know who can, but…I don’t know, Mariah. Things are pretty bad between Ray and me. I’m not sure I should get involved in your family business.”
“Are you kidding me?” She shoves her feet under the sheets and lies back on my pillow. “This a perfect opportunity for you. For both of us. You clear your name and I take my scheming aunt down.”
I consider her offer, she’s right. But so what? Will it really change things? I’ll just be snooping. Causing more trouble, digging up more dirt. Not to mention, I’ll need Marx to do it. I don’t have those kinds of connections.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
“You do that,” she responds with a yawn. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me up in an hour, would you? I think I’d like to go play another round of pool. Win a little more money.”
“Okay.” But not likely. I pull the sheet up to her shoulders. Ray’s little sister. I smile. I like her. She’s a straight shooter like me. A little rough around the edges, but endearing anyhow. I should help her. At least someone around here will get what he or she deserves.
I reach for my phone. One phone call is all it takes and if there was ever a time Brandon Marx owed me, it is now. Big time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ray
I peer over Sydney’s shoulder at my sleeping sister. “I’m sorry she crashed your night,” I say.
“It’s okay. I didn’t really have any plans.”
I nod, secretly relieved she hasn’t moved on yet. I shove my hands in my pockets and drop my gaze. If I look at her for too long, I’m going to want to kiss her. Even more than I already do.
“Ray,” she says. Her voice is soft, her tone apprehensive. I hate that I’m making her feel uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about everything. You hired me to do a job and I screwed it up. And I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “Thanks.”
She holds out a piece of folded paper. “I think—well, your sister came here because…”
I take the paper from her.
“I didn’t really want to get involved, but she—I think you should read that.”
“What is this?” I ask.
“Just know that I did this for her. I wasn’t snooping. I’d never—Mariah asked me to look into some things for her, so I did. I did it for her, not for me. Not because I want you to…I’m not trying to manipulate you.”
I gaze down at the paper.
“You don’t have to open it now, but I think it’ll explain a lot. Maybe help fix things between the two of you.”
“Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”
We stand there for a while Mariah’s soft snores the only sound in the room.
I want to say something, but I don’t know what. It’s weird that I can’t just talk to her anymore. It’s the one thing between us that came so easy. Like we’d known each other forever. I look down at her now and all I see is her nerves. Like the first time we were in a room together, her face is pink, her gaze shifty and she keeps tugging on the hem of her shirt.
We’ll have to figure it out eventually. After all, we’ll be working together. With Miss Clarke on the mend, Sydney will be calling most of the shots. I’m going to have to get used to this. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can get a word out she jumps in.
“Screw it,” she says. “Ray, I swear to god I didn’t leak that story. I know how it looks. I was the only one with the information. You trusted me with it. But I had help. That fir
st day you came over here things were weird. They were different and I thought if I could hurry up and get the job done, I could move on. We both could. So I called in a favor. I had no idea it’d turn into something like this. You have to believe me.”
Her eyes are wide and pleading. A rush of guilt courses through me but it’s quickly shadowed by doubt. “Well, it’s over now,” I say.
“Do you believe me?”
I shrug.
“You don’t.” She drops her gaze and closes her eyes. “I didn’t even know who Luke Black was until the other day,” she mutters.
The sound of my father’s name sends my heart racing and I keep the anger at bay by clenching my teeth.
“It doesn’t matter whether or not I believe you,” I say. “What’s done is done and you’ve made it clear…”
“What?” she asks, her head snapping up. “I’ve made what clear?”
“The other day, you said we should keep it professional. So, if that’s what you want, we will.”
She steps forward and is standing on her toes before I can blink. She pulls my head down toward her and covers my lips with hers. My hands find her waist, as her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers raking through my hair.
Within seconds, I’m hard as a rock and all I want to do is lay her down, be with her again. But unlike last time, I want to remember it. The way she feels, how her breath catches when I touch her, how she calls my name. Then I want to wake up next to her, watch her sleep and cook her eggs.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” she whispers between kisses. “Things just got weird. But I love being with you, Ray. I do.”
I brush her hair back from her face, and stroke her cheek with the pad of my thumb. I kiss her forehead, then her nose and linger at her lips for a moment.
“Things are—”
A cough behind her interrupts me and I drop my hands. Mariah is lying on her side, watching us, a grin on her face. “Oh, don’t mind me,” she says. “This shit is better than Y&R.”
Sydney covers her mouth with back of her hand. “Have a good nap?” she asks.
Mariah stretches and I catch the first glimpse of the barely there outfit she’s wearing.
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