Drake (The Powers That Be, Book 5)

by Harper Bentley

I giggled. “Yep. Krys gave me some wine to help my nerves and I kinda chugged it. I don’t drink a lot so when I do, whew! I get toasted!” I giggled some more.

  “Babe, give the phone to Krystal,” he said.

  I frowned. “You don’t like talking to me?”

  “I do but I need to talk to her.”

  “Why?”

  “Baby, just give her the phone,” he ordered.

  “I love it when you call me that,” I said dreamily letting out a sigh. Then my eyes opened and I added, my tone now serious, “But you know what I don’t like? Bossiness.” I nodded. “And speaking of bossiness, Vic was bossy to me tonight. He told me to get my ass out of the house. How rude is that?”

  “Honor…”

  “But you know when I do like bossiness?” I said low into the phone. “I liked it when you bossed me in the bedroom. That was hot.” I giggled even more.

  “Honor…”

  “Oh, my gosh. I’m kinda drunk, huh?”

  He chuckled. “I guess you are. Do me a favor and let me talk to Krystal for a second, okay?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, all right.” I held my phone out to her. “Here!”

  “Hello?” she asked.

  “It’s Drake,” I whispered loudly.

  She nodded and held a finger to her mouth telling me to be quiet.

  “Am I being loud?” I asked with a yawn.

  She nodded again as she listened. Then I heard her give him Vic’s phone number and I wondered what was going on.

  So I asked, “What’s going on?” probably loudly because Krystal put her finger to her mouth again.

  While she had my phone, I was suddenly tired and lay down on my side on the couch, pulling the afghan off the back of it to cover myself and curling my legs up. “Okay, hang on,” I heard her say.

  I heard her call my name and felt a nudge on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I saw her holding the phone out to me which I took. “Hullo?” I answered sleepily.

  “Babe, I’m gonna call your brother to see what he found out, okay?”

  “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “You and Vic are a lot alike. You’re bossy, he’s bossy. You can sometimes be—and I’m sorry to say this but it’s the truth—a real jerk and so can he.” I yawned.

  “I know, baby. I’m gonna hang up and call him. You should go lie down.”

  “I’m already lying down, Mr. Bossypants.” I yawned again. “But I’m really not that tired.”

  “I know you’re not, just try it. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “’Kay. Bye, Drake,” I said and was out.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Ow,” I moaned holding my head as I sat up on the couch the next morning. “How can I have a hangover from only two glasses of wine?”

  “Morning, Megara,” she said with a sweet smile.

  “Hey, Aurora,” I answered, squinting my eyes because her living room was too freaking bright.

  When we were in fifth grade, we’d decided we were really Disney princesses, and with her blond hair and sweet and cheery disposition, Krystal was a shoe-in for Sleeping Beauty. My auburn hair along with my snarkiness had tied me to the cynical Megara, who technically wasn’t a princess, but we’d made her one anyway.

  “Three,” Krystal stated.

  “Huh?” I questioned, scrunching up my face.

  She chuckled from where she sat in the recliner, legs over the arm and watching that same crappy reality show while she ate one of the brownies I’d made for her. “You had three glasses. And it was a marsala. Higher alcohol content. But there’s water and aspirin on the end table for you.” She nodded toward it.

  I narrowed my eyes at her as I reached for the glass of water and pills. “And you didn’t think to tell me it was more…” I looked for the word since my brain refused to work. “Alcohol-y?”

  She shrugged. “Mom brought it back from Sicily last year and I was waiting for a good time to use it.” She picked up a glass of milk from the table and took a drink.

  “And Jeremiah breaking in was a good time?” I rubbed my hands over my face.

  “As good as any. You hungry?” She held out a brownie.

  “No. Gross. I feel like shit.”

  She pulled her legs off the arm and sat straight up. “We’re still going to that Greek restaurant tonight, though, right? I had to ask Dad to get us a reservation, which is at seven, because I tried and since it’s so new, they were booked. He had to pull some strings.”

  “Way to go, Dad!” I cheered, then cringed at my loud voice, damn it. Krystal’s dad was a city councilman and knew people and had apparently known someone at the restaurant. “Yes. We’re still on.” I stood slowly and stretched. “But for now, I think I’m gonna head home, and take a nap.”

  “You just woke up,” she declared with a snort as she stood and took her glass to the kitchen.

  “I know. I need a nap from sleeping with a headache.” I ran a hand through my tangled hair.

  “Wanna do a movie after dinner?” she called.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Oh. Vic called last night,” she mentioned, walking back into the living room.

  My head shot to her making me wince at the sudden movement and I put a hand to my forehead. “He called you?”

  “Well, he called you but since you were passed out, I answered.”

  “And?”

  “He found a window with a broken latch that he thinks Jeremiah came in,” she shared.

  “Shit. Where?”

  “Spare bedroom.”

  Well, that wasn’t horrifying. “Did he fix it?”

  “He said he was gonna try to. He also said he called Jeremiah and cussed him out and doubts he’ll bother you again.” She chuckled.

  “Did he say anything about getting an alarm? Wait, what am I saying? More importantly, did you two at least talk?”

  She flipped her hair behind her shoulder in annoyance. Great. “He told me he’d like if we could get together sometime and chat.” She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Big, bad Victor Justice said chat. Can you believe that?” She rolled her eyes and made a Psh sound.

  I carefully inquired, “So are you gonna talk?”

  “Eh. I don’t know.” She turned and looked at the TV then added offhandedly, “Maybe.”

  If my head hadn’t hurt so bad, I would’ve let out a squeal. But as it was, I just nodded, biting my lips so I wouldn’t smile.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Doing anything exciting tonight?” Drake asked when he called around four.

  “Krys and I are going to a new restaurant, so I don’t know if that classifies as being exciting. Guess if the chef starts juggling his knives it could be,” I remarked.

  “Honor.” His deep voice held a warning.

  My brow came down as I wondered what I’d done wrong. “Yeah?”

  “You’re bein’ cute.”

  “Oh.”

  “Fuckin’ cute.” He chuckled low. “Hey, Vic find out how your ex got in?”

  “Yes. A window in the spare room had a broken latch,” I said, shivering at the thought. “And he’s not my ex,” I added.

  “He fix it?”

  “I think so, yeah, but I haven’t talked to him today. So, uh, what’re you doing tonight?”

  “Got some online work for school I’ve been putting off. Fun, huh?”

  “Sounds like a really fun Saturday night. I’ll think of you when I’m eating dolmades.”

  “Don’t know what those are and don’t think I want to.”

  I laughed. “They’re basically stuffed grape leaves.

  “That sounds disgusting.”

  “They’re actually not bad.”

  “Think I’ll stick with my meat and potatoes.” He chuckled.

  “You do that.” I giggled.

  “You wanna come by the shop tomorrow afternoon? Gotta transmission I need to work on so I’ll be around. My dad called earlier to check on things and said he’d promised the guy it’d
be ready Tuesday. I thought since it was Sunday and the garage is closed, I’d have more time, maybe even get it done. Dad said they should be home next Saturday, so depending on what time they get in, maybe I can take you to dinner?”

  I’d forgotten his folks were out of town for two weeks. Duh. I mean, we’d just had sandwiches at the garage last night. Oh. And hot sex. I felt a dip in my womb just thinking about it. Gah! But his saying he didn’t have evenings free got me thinking.

  “Can I ask why you don’t have evenings free while they’re gone?” I questioned.

  “You can.”

  “Drake.”

  He laughed. “Because I’m the only one around. I’m responsible for the shop and I don’t wanna be too far away.”

  That made sense. Then I tested, “I could make dinner at your place one night this week.”

  “Babe.”

  What was the big deal? Jeez. I let out a breath. “I’ll see if I can come by after work tomorrow.”

  “Good. I wanna see you. Make it happen, babe.”

  “I’ll try,” I replied, hurt that he didn’t want me at his house.

  But after hanging up, I started getting ready for dinner, finding I was excited to go out with Krystal, ready for some quality girl time. I’d showered and now stood looking in my closet not knowing what to pick out.

  “Krys,” I said into my phone when she answered. “What do I wear?”

  “It’s Greek to me,” she answered with a snort. At my groan, she declared, “Dressy casual. Dark jeans and a nice shirt should do.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Be here in an hour?”

  “I can do that. See you then!” I said before hanging up.

  Chapter 15

  “Fancy schmancy,” I remarked looking down at the platter of crudités and hummus.

  The whole restaurant was gorgeous, very white, very arch-y and very Mediterranean. And the food was almost too pretty to eat. I spooned some hummus onto my plate then used the tongs, nabbing a couple carrots, red peppers and cucumbers.

  “Oh, wow. This is amazing,” I muttered, crunching on a hummus-dipped carrot.

  We chatted as we waited on our main course, which Krystal insisted we both get pastitsio to which I’d agreed to because I was pretty clueless when it came to most Greek foods. We’d also ordered Ouzo, which I hadn’t had before but found I could take it or leave it. I mean, nothing says yummy like chasing your food with a drink that tastes like black licorice. Ergh.

  “You’re the best date I’ve had in a long time,” Krystal said laughing. “Please tell me your ex isn’t gonna show up and yell at you for being out with a, and I quote, ‘brazen hussy’?”

  I snorted. “Honey, if brazen hussy is the worst you’ve been called, you’re doing good.”

  “I still can’t believe Tiffany Green called you a,” she leaned in close across the table and whispered, “cunt!” Sitting back, she popped an olive into her mouth and exclaimed, “What a bitch!”

  “I can’t believe he brought her home,” I mumbled. My eyes got big realizing I’d said that out loud which made Krystal chuckle.

  “You’re fine,” she said and took a drink. “Here’s the deal, On. I’ve got it figured out. Vic’s looking for someone to replace me. And if Tiffany Green is the best he can do, then I win.”

  Ah. Just as I figured. But what was ironic was she didn’t realize she was doing the same with all the guys she went out with.

  “And don’t think I don’t know I’ve been doing the same thing with dating.” Well, touché. “Except I don’t sleep with them.”

  “If you two’d ever figure out you should be together, you wouldn’t have to do all this avoiding each oth—”

  “Honor,” she interrupted letting me know she didn’t want to talk about it.

  Instead, we talked a bit about Tiffany and all the girls we’d gone to high school with when just as I was in the middle of telling her that I’d seen Tara Fox at Colonial Manor a few weeks before, Krystal’s eyes got huge.

  “Honor,” she said looking panicked at me. “Do not, and I mean it—listen just this once, Honor—do not turn around.”

  I stared at her for a moment then laughed. “Since when do I ever listen?” I said as I twisted to see what had her in a tizzy.

  And I wished I’d listened for a change.

  Drake and the stunning blonde who’d yelled at him in the parking lot were walking to be seated a few tables behind us. And I guessed she’d decided to give his masterpiece another go because they looked happy as they went to their table, his hand at the small of her back and when they got there, he pulled the chair out for her to sit.

  I whipped my head back to Krystal. “What the actual fuck? That’s the same girl I told you about who was screaming at him that day in the parking lot!”

  “That’s Chanel Chadwick,” she stated bitterly, looking past me at their table. “Her dad’s one of the top dogs at Amazon. She’s a model and has been on runways all over the world—Paris, Berlin, New York, London, Milan.”

  I knew she had to be a model. Well, wasn’t this great. Drake had not only lied about not being available at night or not fucking around, he was also dating a fricking runway model! Holy shit.

  “What do I do?” I squeaked, angry tears filling my eyes. Then things seemed to be moving in slo-mo—a waiter setting plates on the table next to us, a woman laughing a few tables over, a man holding his fork out for his date to take a bite, all of it just slowed down. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

  Krystal’s eyes came back to me while she flipped her blond hair behind her shoulder, her jaw getting tight. Then she instructed, “It’s just the Ouzo. But here’s what’s gonna happen, On. You’re gonna enjoy your fucking night out with your fucking best friend. You’re gonna eat your fucking fantastic food. And you are not gonna pass out!” She gave their table a death glare then looked back at me fiercely. “Then we’ll fucking figure out what to do.” Boy, a hair flip and cursing. She was really mad. She picked up my drink holding it out to me. “Finish this. Liquid courage.”

  “This’ll be two nights in a row of drinking heavily, Krys. You know I don’t like to drink.” I frowned taking the glass from her anyway. When raising my brow at her caused a random tear to slip down my cheek, I wiped it away angrily. “You’re making me have mixed drinks about my feelings.”

  She laughed. “I fucking love you, you know that, right? And the fact that you can hold your shit together by making a joke right now goes to show how truly fucking amazing you are.”

  “I love you too. And you only think I’m amazing ‘cause I’m doing what you’re telling me to do,” I replied before downing my drink and making a face. “Why couldn’t the Greeks have invented strawberry daiquiris?” I gasped with a shudder. She was watching their table again. “What’re they doing now?”

  “She just laughed at something he said. Now I’m assuming the waitress is taking their drink orders.”

  At that moment, our waiter brought our food, all cheery and shit. Krystal ordered me another drink at which I started to protest then thought, why the hell not? It was going to be a painful night for me as it was; I may as well be smashed.

  “This is great,” she muttered as she chewed.

  But all I could do was stare down at my plate until, on her insistence, I took a bite but couldn’t really taste anything, either because I was numb or my taste buds had been positively obliterated by the alcohol. So while she ate, I drank, pondering why in the world I’d thought Drake and I had had something anyway. He’d been keeping things from me—no telling how many secrets he had—which made me see that he neither trusted me nor had ever planned on getting serious with me to begin with.

  “I’m an idiot,” I murmured, drinking my Ouzo and still scrunching up my face at its taste. “Fuck. You mean to tell me eleven million people love this shit?” I asked as a tremor ran through me.

  “You’re not an idiot. He’s an asshole. And eleven million people can’t be wrong,” she poin
ted out with a chuckle. “Keep drinking until you feel like you can face him.”

  And I did, not only finishing my glass but the rest of hers too. A few minutes later, I sat back and giggled out an, “I don’t feel a thing.”

  “You’re ready,” she proclaimed.

  “Yep,” I agreed, and don’t think I didn’t pop the hell out of that P.

  “Can we get boxes, please?” Krystal asked a waiter who was passing our table. When the server left, she turned to me. “What are you gonna say?”

  “I don’t know,” my bravado suddenly taking a hit when I realized this was really going to happen. “I just wanna go home and sleep forever,” I whispered, slumping down into my chair.

  “He’s not getting away with this, On. You’re gonna confront him. Make him explain. Then you can go home and sleep. Okay?”

  I looked at her for a moment seeing the determination on her face which infused me with some of my own. Sitting up, I nodded. Then, because alcohol, I stipulated with a giggle, “But not until I throw a glass of water in his face.”

  “Perfect!”

  Our waiter came back and boxed our food. After we paid the check, I turned in my chair and watched as Chanel said something that made Drake laugh and she reached a hand across the table to squeeze his.

  “Get mad, Honor,” Krystal urged.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m mad,” I said. Gathering my mettle, I stood to leave, instantly feeling the full effects of the liquor, except this time my anger had my adrenaline spiking so I was more pissy than giggly. Between my nerves and the liquor, my legs wobbled a little as I began my trek over to where they sat.

  As I approached their table, all I could think about was that he’d lied to me about not being able to go out in the evening while his folks were gone, lied that he didn’t fuck around, lied about…everything. Just flat-out lied. And tonight? Online work, my ass.

  I was halfway there, my heart thundering so hard in my chest I again thought I was going to pass the fuck out before I even got to them, when I scolded myself, muttering, “Breathe, Honor!” Glancing behind me, I saw Krystal right there with me and instantly calmed down.

  Drake and Ms. Runway were looking at their menus when I stopped at the table, and he must’ve thought I was the waitress because he said, “I think we’ll start out with the tzatziki and pita crisps.”