by JA Huss
Hannah stuffs her phone in her back pocket and grabs her purse off the counter and starts heading for the door.
“I’ll drive the Land Rover home,” I say. That’s the car we keep out here.
Mila shoots me a look.
“What? I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. You do not go down there. You hear me?”
“Why the hell would I go down there?” I ask. “The last thing I need is for him to figure out I’m the stupid mastermind of this shit show.”
“Good, let’s go,” Natalie says.
We all file out of the house. Mila last, so she can arm the security system. Hannah takes off without another word. And by the time I back the Land Rover out of the garage, only Mila is left. Sitting in her Mercedes, waiting for me to pull in front of her. Like she doesn’t trust me to leave Jesse here overnight.
I shake my head at her as I drive past, then exit the gate and follow the long Lake Road back to the highway.
But the whole time I’m driving back to the city Mila stays behind me. Not taking her eyes off my car until I have to exit onto another freeway and she has no choice but to let me go my own way.
I watch out the side window as she keeps cruising straight and then I get off on the next exit and turn around.
I have to go back. I can’t leave Jesse Boston tied up in the basement.
I need to know things.
Things like… was any of it real? Or was it all lies?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - JESSE
There is a vent in the basement that must connect to the room where they are talking upstairs because I hear every fucking word of their conversation.
And now I know who they are.
Bright Berry Beach Cosmetics.
Then the realization kicks in hard.
I dated/fucked/lied to all four of them.
Well, not Emma. I didn’t lie to her. I liked her. I fell hard for that girl in the pigtails. And now that I know who she is I can’t stop seeing her face in my mind.
The last thing I need is for him to figure out I’m the stupid mastermind of this shit show.
That lingers in my head as well.
This was all her plan.
After they leave I just sit in my chair fuming. So pissed off. They really are going to leave me here all night, then drug me again tomorrow and… what? Hope I’ll just forget this all happened? Be so riddled with guilt about how I used them I’ll let it go?
No. Fuck that.
As soon as I get out of this mess I’m calling Johnny. I will ruin them. Every single one of them.
I doze off for a while, the drugs still swirling around in my blood, then wake up abruptly when the familiar sound of a garage door opening rumbles through the house.
Then listen as somewhere upstairs a door opens and closes. Then another. And footsteps on the stairs.
Maybe they changed their minds on the way home?
The door to my room opens and Emma appears.
We stare at each other for a few seconds.
“Well,” I say. “What the fuck do you want?”
She leans against the doorway and folds her arms across her chest. She’s still in the pretty red gown from the auction. Her hair—which was up a very sophisticated up-do when this night started—is falling all over the place, kinda framing her face and reminding me of the pigtails she wore back when we met at the beach.
“I’m letting you go.”
“So do that,” I snap. “Untie me. Right the fuck now.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“I know,” I snarl.
“So you remember now?”
“I remembered back at my house. I was just about to bring it up when the drugs hit my system.”
“Were you?” she says, furrowing her brow. Then she frowns and all those memories of her perfect, pouty lips threaten to overcome my anger. “You were not. This is just another lie, isn’t it?”
I sigh and shake my head. “Fuck you. You drugged me, Emma. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been clean? How long it took me to get clean?”
“What?”
I laugh. Kinda loud. “Oh, never thought of that, did you? I cannot fucking believe you did this.”
She frowns. Then pouts. And damn. I know I hate her but… I really, really like that pout. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“What the hell? Just what the actual fuck? How long have you and your little friends been plotting this bullshit plan?”
“You used us! You lied to us!”
“Oh, yeah. Totally makes sense now. Oh, and by the way?” I nod my head to the vent in the ceiling. “I heard everything you guys said upstairs. That one friend of yours? She’s using men too. What would you think if that first guy she meets tonight drugs her? Abducts her? Ties her ass to a chair and leaves her to rot overnight with no water?”
Emma purses her lips.
“Not so funny now, is it? And what if he and his friends—all her used-up boyfriends—just stood around talking about how they had to take their kids to ballet? Or meet other girls for sex? Or joked around sending texts? Those guys would be labeled sociopaths!”
“You’re right,” she says.
“I know I’m goddamned right! Now un-fucking-tie me!”
She walks forward towards me. Then behind me. She must have a knife because she slips something cold between the tight zip tie and my skin, and then the pressure releases. I bring my hands into my lap, sighing with relief as my stretched-tight shoulders relax.
She does the same for my ankles and I stand up and look down at my suit. I am covered in leaves and dirt. “What did you do? Drag my ass on the ground?”
She presses her lips together and says nothing.
I rub the welts on my wrists as I look at her, wondering how the fuck she could even think of a plan like this. “Did I ruin your life, Emma? Is that why?”
“No,” she says. “My life is fine.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re a huge success story. Own your own billion-dollar company, pretty as fuck, and smart. So what the hell were you thinking?”
She shakes her head at me, then turns with a swing of her dress, and starts to walk out.
I grab her by the arm. Maybe a little bit too tight, but fuck that. She’s not walking out on me. “I want an explanation.”
She turns slowly. Looks me in the eye. Lips pursed in defiance. Eyes blazing with anger.
“How bad do you have to hurt someone to pull a stupid stunt like this?” I ask. “Did I hurt you like that? Because I liked you, OK? A lot. And tonight, when I finally figured who you were, when I finally figured out you were that girl—the one I fell for all those years ago and then got ripped away from… you can’t even imagine how fucking happy I was. For like five whole seconds I thought to myself, ‘Finally. Finally something good happens to me. Something natural and not contrived. Something special.’” I stare at her as her pout falls into an even deeper frown. “And then I realized it wasn’t good at all. It was just the same old shit all over again.”
“You liked Mila a lot too,” she whispers. “All those things you said to me that night. I played them over and over in my head for years. Wondering if they were true or not. But you said them to her too. You said them to all of us. What am I supposed to believe?”
“They were true,” I say.
“You were drunk. And high.”
“Yeah, I was. Because I had a problem back then. But I thought about you too. Every fucking day for weeks.”
“But you left anyway.”
“I didn’t leave, Emma. My uncle died and my brother came and got me. I was on a plane less than an hour after I last saw you.” I throw up my hands and sigh. “Why am I even bothering? I told you this right before you fucking drugged me and it made no difference. You and your friends have already made up your minds about me. I’m the asshole. I deserve this. I deserve to be drugged, abducted, and left to rot in some dark basement with no water. What if I died?”
I just shake my head at her. “You know what sucks the most about this night?” She looks at me but doesn’t offer anything up. “I like you. I liked you. And you… well,” I say, throwing up my hands. “You got what you came for, I guess.”
I walk past her and come out into another room. Look around, find the stairs, and then take them three at a time.
I come up in a kitchen, spy the door, reach for the handle and pull. Only to realize… she locked me in.
When I turn around she’s behind me.
“What now?” I ask. “Is there a second phase to this plan?”
She says nothing.
“Open. The fucking door, Emma.”
She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Not yet. I want to know something first.”
“What?”
“Back in Key West… did you mean any of it?”
I stare at her. See her. The new her, the old her. The new me and the old me too. Her little shorts and that tight, white tank top. Her red strapless dress with the form-fitting bodice. Her tanned legs then and her pale ones now. Peeking out from underneath the slits riding up the side of her gown.
Her pout. Then, it was perpetual disappointment in others. And now… it’s different. It’s disappointment in herself. She’s the one who let herself down this time.
I say, “Every fucking word.”
She looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted to stop it.” She looks up at me. “At first, I was mad. So angry at you. I have harbored this hate for you for so long, this felt… reasonable. But…” She sucks in a long breath and lets it out. “I changed my mind.”
“Why? When?” I don’t even think about these words. They just come out automatically.
“The ice cream.”
And I smile. I can’t help it.
“Your story… I didn’t know any of that.”
“But you went through with it anyway? What the fuck, you know? Just what the actual fuck?”
She shrugs. Swallows hard. “The other girls didn’t have that moment with you. They were still angry and I was… not. That’s why I came back. Not just because it was wrong, but because I wanted to see if you really meant it.”
Is she fucking kidding me right now? Is she asking me to… what? Explain my feelings to her? After what she did?
I huff out some air. So angry. So pissed off at her.
But she looks very vulnerable.
And maybe it’s the drugs? Or maybe deep down inside I’m just that guy?
I don’t know. And I don’t even care at this point.
I want to fuck her. Right now.
And then I want to leave her all over again.
Just like last time.
Only this time I’ll be walking out of my own accord.
It won’t be Johnny dragging me away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - EMMA
He takes a step towards me and I hold my breath. Now what?
I picture him spewing insults at my face. Threatening me with legal action. Calling the police and having them drag me away and then one by one going to my friends’ homes and arresting them.
The headline on Monday. Bright Berry Beach Executives arrested for kidnapping.
Our lives falling apart in an instant over what?
Hate? Hurt feelings?
But the look on his face isn’t one of hate. It’s… could it be? Am I crazy? Is that… longing? Is he… does he want to… no. I’m making shit up now. He’s angry and vindictive. A known liar and cheat.
But people can change, right?
I sure did. I don’t even recognize myself right now.
“Emma,” he says, once the distance between us is closed. He tentatively places a hand on my hip. Grips it.
And when I don’t push him away, he places the other one on my other hip. Tugs me towards him.
Am I crazy? Is he coming on to me?
Surely not. After what we did? No.
“Emma,” he says again. “I’m sorry I left you back in Key West. I explained this to you before I even knew it was you. I didn’t have time to think it through, and I was high back then. I couldn’t think it through. But I thought about you for so long afterward. You were my one regret. The only real regret I’ve ever had with a woman. And if I could go back in time I would’ve just talked to you that night. Built something real first. So that when the moment came and I had to leave, you’d know something was wrong. And it wasn’t you, it really was me.”
I realize I’m holding my breath and let it out. “Really?” I say. Because I can’t help myself. When I fell for him, I really fell for him. And I never got back up.
“Really,” he says, leaning into my neck.
His lips are so soft. So tender, a chill runs up my spine and makes me shudder and suck in a breath.
“Like that?” he asks, nibbling on my ear.
“Mmm,” I manage to moan.
“Because I do,” he whispers. “I like it a lot. I’d like to nibble you all over.”
Jesus Christ. I feel like a teenager again. My stomach is tied up in knots and there’s a heat between my legs that’s been missing action for so long now, I almost can’t control myself.
But then I get a hold of myself and pull away.
“What?” he asks.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he asks, leaning in again.
But both my hands immediately come up to his chest and push him back. “Why are you doing this?”
“Uh… because I like you.”
“I drugged you. I had you kidnapped. That was me. That was my plan. I did that. So what the hell are you doing?’
“For fuck’s sake, Emma. I just told you I’ve been missing you all these years and tonight we reconnected and I felt that all over again. Why can’t you just accept that I like you?”
“See points above,” I snap. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?’
“Doing what?”
“Playing me!” I say. It comes out a little shriek-y.
“OK,” he says, pulling away, removing his hands from my hips so he can hold them up in the air like he’s surrendering. “Let me spell it out for you. We,” he says, pointing first to himself, then to me, “had a little connection back in the day. Do you agree? Or not?”
“I only know what I felt. I have no idea what you felt.”
“Listen,” he says, rubbing his temple. “I’m telling you right now what I felt. Either you believe me or you don’t. But”—he holds up a hand when I open my mouth to protest—“if you don’t believe me, then that’s on you. OK? Not me. I didn’t know who you were at the Tastee-Freez. But I did tell you, several times, that you felt familiar. Remember that?”
I nod. Because it’s true. He did.
“And that was before you pulled your little stunt. So what’s it gonna be? You wanna do this? Or walk away?”
I narrow my eyes at him. It just can’t be that easy. “So you forgive me?”
“Sure. I forgive you. You wanna know why?”
“Why?” I ask, so softly.
“Because for me, forgiving you is nothing. It costs me nothing to forgive you. But you will have to live with this for the rest of your life. You will have to forgive yourself, Emma. And take my word on this, OK? I was a guy who had to look at myself in the mirror after I cleaned up my act. I had to see him for what he was. I had to learn how to forgive myself for all that shit I did when I was younger. And it’s not as easy as you might think.”
I want that to make so much sense. I want this to be his reason for suddenly becoming reasonable, I really do. Because I do not want him to leave me again. I’m so pathetic. So fucking pathetic.
“So what do you want to do? Part ways enemies? Or try for a second chance?”
I want this second chance so bad. S
o fucking bad.
“OK, I’m outta here.”
“Wait,” I say, grabbing onto his arm. “Just… give me a second to catch up, will you?”
He steps away. Leans against the wall. Folds his arms over his chest. Glares at me.
What is that glare? What is it telling me that he’s not?
Because I think I see hate in that glare.
Which means everything he just said is a lie. Just another Jesse Boston lie.
“I’m waiting,” he says.
“OK,” I say. Because I can’t walk away from him. Or let him walk away from me. Not without finding out for sure if he’s for real.
“OK what?”
“OK, then…” I suck in a deep breath, gather myself, remember who I am, and say, “Please continue.”
He grins. And even though I know it could be a trick—that all of this could just be him playing me again—I relax when he beams that grin at me.
He takes a step forward, hands on my hips, mouth leaning into my neck, and commences nibbling.
I am going to regret this, I know it. The minute we’re done, I will be kicking myself for falling all over him like an idiot.
But I don’t care. That’s at least twenty minutes in the future and all I want is the here and now.
So I place my hands on his hips. Then pull his shirt out of his pants.
He laughs a little in my ear as he continues to kiss me. “That’s better,” he whispers. “Just give in, Emma. Find out what you’ve been missing all these years.”
I have ten comebacks to that on my lips. Things like, You mean, what you’ve been missing. Stupid teenage girl things.
But I just stop caring about the scorecard. I don’t have energy for hate and suspicion right now. Because I’m unbuttoning his shirt. And just a few seconds later I’m popping that button on his pants too. Unzipping that zipper just as his hands reach down and slide underneath the slit of my dress.
And that’s it, folks.
Show’s over.
Because we are going to fuck.
But he says… “I could fall for you, Emma. If I let myself, I could really fall for you.”
Something snaps in my brain when I hear these words.
Something electric. Some kind of charge running through my body.