by Ash Harlow
Of course, the venue had to be spectacular, and Oliver and Cole were patient, dragging a table around that I could climb onto and envision a view of the stage. I practised sitting in various places, working out how best to optimize the spectacular landscape.
I paced across the lawn and looked back to where the stage would be set up, then raised my arms and slapped them back to my sides. “This is no good.”
Oliver and Cole waited. This morning they’d become used to me walking, stopping, turning, expressing my ideas out loud.
“Are you going to tell us why?” Cole asked without a hint of impatience.
“We need more space. Pearl and Reuben Creed. We could sell ten thousand times the tickets we’re offering. I can’t even imagine the companies who are going to want to come on board with this and donate stuff for the auction just so that they can be associated with those two names. We can start earlier and have—”
From behind, Oliver slung an arm around my waist, and covered my mouth with his hand. “Slow down, big thinker.”
I closed my eyes, enjoying the heat of our bodies pressed together and tasted his palm with my tongue before remembering Cole was with us.
“If I let you go, do you promise to listen to me for a minute?” Oliver asked.
I nodded, and his hand slipped way.
“I love your big ideas, but we’re only seven weeks out so we can’t do a big concert, okay?”
“Big meanie,” I said.
“Let me kiss away your disappointment—”
Cole interrupted with a cough. “I seem to have become superfluous so I’ll cut and run. See you guys tonight.”
“Thanks for your help,” I called before facing Oliver again. “It’s okay. I understand there’s no time and that this event is quite different to putting on a rock concert. I got carried away. You’ve got to watch me for that.”
“I’m going to take you home, and you can get as carried away as you want. Remember, we have staging people, and lighting people. When are you meeting with them?”
“Next week.”
“Exactly. You can boss them around, and I’m sure they’ll have some great ideas. All I want you to do is control them and keep them up to speed.”
“Delegate, delegate…I know.”
“Good. You’re the boss. Don’t forget it.”
We stopped at the farmer’s market on the way home, and then the liquor store. I was unpacking groceries as Oliver unloaded the car when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, swore, and hit the decline button, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Back in a minute,” he called.
I watched him head out to the patio and retrieve his phone. He paced for a moment then walked to the far side of the lawn to finish his call. His body language was tense but I refused to second guess whatever was going on and went back to putting away the groceries. He ran multi-million-dollar companies, restaurants and bars in town, and probably other things I didn’t know about. This irritation could be one of a thousand things.
I’d just finished when Oliver appeared again. His demeanor was the usual strong calmness I’d become used to, making me wonder if he, too, had a well-fitting mask.
“I’ve got some work things to attend to in my office. Why don’t you get ready for tonight? I won’t be long.”
I couldn’t help feeling like a child being sent from the room while the grown-ups talked adult, but I went ahead and took a shower alone, pushing aside the feeling that something unpleasant was taking place.
Post-shower, I was in the bedroom doing my hair when I heard the shower start again in the bathroom. A moment later Oliver called out that a message had just come on his phone and could I check it.
“I’ve been trying to contact Luther to find out what time he’s picking us up. The phone’s in my dressing room.”
I found it sitting on top of his clothes on a chair, the screen glowing with the preview message. I picked it up and swiped the message without thinking.
— My threats aren’t idle, O. What would your new gf think if she saw this? A —
A? Annabelle? I was still holding the phone when it buzzed again. Another message from A, but this time it was a video. I shouldn’t have touched it, but my heart was racing, wondering why Annabelle—if it was her sending the messages—was threatening to send it to me.
I touched the screen and the video began. It was filmed from a distance in what looked like an industrial area. Oliver was in shot, walking toward another man who stood against a wall near a dumpster. Whoever filmed it zoomed in and I watched what unfolded over the next few seconds.
My lungs deflated and calcified. No matter how much I tried to breathe, the air clogged in my throat. The room swam, and I dropped to the floor and got my head between my knees. Gradually, the darkness evaporated and I took a long, shuddering breath.
I left the phone on the floor, pulled on some shoes, and ran.
By the time I reached the front door I could hear Oliver calling, but all I could do was replay in my head the image of the man in the video. Not Oliver. The other person.
Rob.
My pulse pounded his name in my ears so that I slapped my hands over them to keep him out. I made it to the cottage, slipped in the door, pushed it closed and leaned against it.
Breathe.
In. Count. Out.
Repeat.
I can do this. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.
Twenty-Five
Oliver
Darcy didn’t seem to be around, so I dried off quickly, pulled on a pair of jeans and went looking for her. My phone was on the floor of the dressing room and I pocketed it and began searching. She wasn’t in the house so I turned toward the jetty where she liked to watch the sunset.
It was empty. I could see that from the patio, but I walked to the jetty anyway. My phone pinged and I pulled it out of my pocket.
— I’m not fucking around here, O. I will send it. And that prenup payout I wanted just doubled. —
Fucking Annabelle. I scrolled back through the messages and when I saw there hadn’t been one from Luther, but instead a couple from my ex, a chill trickled down my spine. Then I saw the video and froze, my thumb hovering over the play button. I couldn’t guess what the content was but I was certain it wasn’t a cute kitten. I tapped the screen. In the few seconds of footage was enough evidence to ruin me.
My loathing for my ex-fiancée plumbed a new depth. The memory of the act she’d filmed disgusted me almost as much as Annabelle’s betrayal. Insisting she was there to support me, she had instead filmed me, thus ensuring she had every base covered if her original plan to extort money from me failed. I couldn’t blame Darcy for running. The hypocrisy evident in this video was overwhelming.
“Oliver, where the fuck are you?”
Luther.
He met me on the patio, and I tossed the phone to him. “Little video there from our friend. She phoned me an hour ago to say that if I didn’t pay her the amount agreed in the prenup, she’d start releasing evidence that would ruin me. This is just a taste.”
Luther’s face was unreadable as he watched the clip. “Oh, fuck, Oli. You took her with you? Why would you do that?”
“At the time, she was the woman I was falling in love with. I was trying not to because she was here to care for Rocco, nothing to do with me. She wanted to support me to help keep Rocco in one piece until we got him into rehab—”
“I know all this, Oli.”
“I know you fucking know all this but I’m just trying to get my head straight. Fuck, Luther. It was her fucking idea. I know I did it,” I said, reaching for the phone, “and I take full responsibility. But it was her fucking idea. She was setting me up from day one. Give me the phone back, I’m going to call her.”
Luther raised the phone above his head. “Do not react. I’m telling you. Don’t engage with her.”
“Did you read her message? She’s threatened to send it to Darcy.”
“Okay, well, that needs dealin
g with. But you can get to Darcy before she does that. Annabelle won’t have her number for a start.”
“The woman’s a psychopath. She won’t be making these threats if she’s not already set up to carry them out.” I pushed past Luther and headed into the house. “Follow me. I need a drink.” I pulled a bottle of Grey Goose from the freezer and poured two large shots, pushing a glass across the counter toward Luther. I downed mine and poured a second one. “I’m certain Darcy’s already seen the video.”
“What? Where is she?”
“I don’t know. I was taking a shower and I heard a message come through on the phone. I thought it was you so I told Darcy to check it. When I got out of the shower, Darcy had vanished and Annabelle’s bomb had already dropped.”
Luther toyed with his glass.
“You haven’t touched that,” I said.
“I’m the sober driver.”
“You’re on your own. I’m going to find Darcy.”
“Focus, Oli. Have you stopped to think the police might be interested in this video? What’s more, if Alberini gets his hands on it, he’ll ruin you. My guess is Annabelle’s kept this little bombshell all to herself. It’s her insurance. If you don’t pay up, you can be sure she’ll sell it to Alberini. So, can you forget about Darcy for the moment, please?”
“No, I can’t. That woman’s important to me and right now, who knows what the hell she’s thinking.”
“Well, I hope she’s thinking about how she’s going to support herself when you’re in prison, because you’re about to lose everything.”
“You think I should pay Annabelle? Fuck that.”
Luther smiled. “That’s the spirit. Lock away the checkbook because we’re going into battle.” He drummed the countertop, then grabbed his shot glass and downed the vodka. “Looks like we’re a no-show at Organicals tonight. I’m not a complete asshole. You go and find Darcy, bring her back here. If she’s seen the video you need to contain her.” He pulled my phone from his pocket. “I’m going to find Annabelle. I should never have lost track of her. I’ll be in your office.”
I returned to my dressing room to find a shirt. What I really wanted to do was punch a hole in the wall, then phone Annabelle and have it out with her. She knew how to get to me because I don’t play games with the people I love. My mother had done that and I fucking hate manipulation. I was open and honest, and at a complete loss about how to deal with my addict half-brother.
When Annabelle turned up as Rocco’s friend and distant cousin, a couple of weeks after he’d appeared on my doorstep, I was relieved to have some help. She seemed to understand him, and calm him, and he was happy to have her around. My alternative had been to hire security to make sure Rocco stayed on track while we found him a place in rehab. That hadn’t gone down at all well.
I’d never dealt with an addict before, but Annabelle knew exactly what to do, nurturing Rocco, staying in contact with the doctor. Unaware of how manipulative and dangerous she was, I was happy to let her take charge.
The walk to Darcy’s house was only a couple of minutes, but it gave me time to calm down. She didn’t come to the door when I knocked, but it pushed open. I found her standing in the little sunroom at the rear of the cottage, staring across the lawn.
She jumped, stiffening when I put my hands on her shoulders, but didn’t turned around.
“I can explain everything,” I told her.
“Addicts always can.”
Shit. I wasn’t expecting that. Her voice quivered and I couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness. “I’m not an addict, Darcy.”
“So what do you prefer? High-functioning recreational user? Is that a more palatable way to describe your addiction?”
“None of those things. Turn around.” Slowly she faced me, a crumpled version of her usually magnificent self. “Oh, hell, you’ve been crying.”
“I can’t be around an addict.” She ground out the words as if every syllable was a piece of gravel she’d dislodged from a rockface of pain.
“Yeah, I’m an addict, but there’s only one thing I crave, and that’s you. Nothing else. Just you.”
My words hung in the air, waiting for her to believe them, and we searched each other’s faces in the silence. I was waiting for the moment when she accepted what I’d said, and she seemed to be looking for something that would confirm for her I was telling the truth. I knew she’d found it as the stiffness left her body.
“Tell me that wasn’t a video of you buying drugs,” she said quietly.
“I bought the drugs for Rocco in an attempt to keep him off the streets, while I marked time waiting for a spot to open in rehab for him. I was terrified that if I so much as glanced away for one second I’d lose him for good. I couldn’t watch him through the day and within twelve hours of being here, he’d found someone in Waitapu to buy from.”
Darcy nodded, her face unreadable. “Go on.”
“Annabelle showed up out of nowhere to help with him, and I was so relieved. At the time, she was an absolute godsend. Rocco respected her and made more of an effort, but he was edgy as hell without his drugs, suffering, angry, only one minor irritation away from becoming violent. Annabelle suggested the best idea was for us to provide Rocco with a daily dose of ice he could use to take the edge off. She didn’t think he could hold it together until rehab, and that he’d disappear, only this time we’d never find him. Between the three of us, we worked out the minimum amount he needed, and I told him I’d provide the drugs. Of course, I had no idea how to go about it, but Luther has contacts across all spectrums and was able to tee me up with someone in Auckland. They came with me to meet the guy. Rocco wanted to do the deal but I wouldn’t let him. I was worried he’d buy more than we’d agreed on, and anyway, I wanted to do it myself.
“I wanted to look that little fuck of a dealer in the eye when I bought his drugs, and make sure he understood what a lowlife piece of scum I thought he was.”
“And Annabelle filmed it.”
I nodded. “I had no idea. I don’t know if she already had her plan worked out to blackmail me, or if she did it for the hell of it. We made buying trips to Auckland three times before things fell apart. Rocco was having psychotic episodes, becoming increasingly paranoid. I worried, but Annabelle assured me the doctor said we were doing the right thing, and we just had to hold it together a bit longer. I should have been more involved in his care, but Annabelle appeared to be so capable. I trusted her.
“At the start, I’d come home and find them listening to music, reading, playing chess. Sometimes Rocco verged on manic, ranting about something he’d read, or seen in a movie. Mostly, though, they were content to just hang around the house. In an odd way, we started to feel like a family.”
I couldn’t even recall that feeling now, my disgust for Annabelle was so acute.
“I was overseas on business when it happened. We’d settled into the sort of routine that meant I felt comfortable leaving them. Somehow, Rocco got hold of the pin number for the safe where we kept the drugs. I got a panicked call from Annabelle. Rocco was missing and the drugs were gone. He was found by hunters a week later up in the forest. It was the middle of winter and he’d stayed up there through atrocious weather. His body was so compromised from his drug use he didn’t stand a chance of being able to survive in the cold.”
The story never got easier with retelling. I studied a place on the wall above Darcy’s head as I breathed through my anger and grief.
“I’m truly sorry, Oliver. You did your best to keep him safe.”
“Yeah, I know. The addiction killed him, blah, blah, blah. Annabelle was there to comfort me. I have to believe that her grief was genuine.”
“Yet she’s willing to blackmail you with that video. Wait, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“It affects us, so in a way, it is. I guess she’s desperate. Come here, I need you.”
She folded into me, absorbing my remnants of pain and hiding
her own. Her reaction to the video was so intense I was certain her own demon had been prodded, and I wanted to know what shape that took.
“Is there anything you want to say?” I asked.
I felt her preparatory breath, and right then, her phone chimed. She jerked out of my arms as she reached for it on the windowsill. “Luther wants us back.”
Of course. He’d kept my phone so he’d sent his message to Darcy’s. “We’d better go. He’s working on this for me. I’m sure you don’t want to be involved, but I’d like you to come back to the house.”
“I’ll stay here. I need time to think.”
“You can think with me.” I backed her against the door. “Tell me what’s troubling you.” I was prepared to do anything to reconnect us because right now she had some wall up that I’d happily scale or knock down, anything but leave her crouching behind it.
She hadn’t done her makeup before she left the house, but her hair was pinned up in an elegant knot in preparation for the function we were no longer attending. I kept her against the door with my knee outside her hip, my hand on the other side, forearm against the curve that swept from her neck to her shoulder. A wave of desire surged in my groin and I intended to show her just how much she meant to me.
I tugged at the pins in her hair, and she winced, ducking her head when one caught, but I carried on until her hair tumbled free past her shoulders. All the time she watched me, eyes guarded, lips pressed tight as if preventing a secret from slipping out.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I pushed my fingers through her hair and held her head firmly against the door.
“Reminding you who I am. No secrets, Darcy. You don’t have to hide from me.” I tilted her head back until her neck was taut and the throb of her pulse exposed to my mouth. My lips covered it, my tongue stroking its rapid beat as I grazed her skin with my teeth. I kissed up her neck, along her jaw and she turned to meet my mouth. “Tell me what’s wrong,” I said against her lips.
“Be careful,” she warned.