by K. V. Rose
I savor the carbs of the fry and then wipe my fingers on a napkin. “I know.” I shrug. “But if it comes from your plate and not mine, the calories don’t count.”
She takes a huge bite of her burger and says, food still in her mouth, “Fuck the calories.”
Hypothetically, I agree. As it is, though, I inherited my mother’s paranoia over gaining weight. I understood it, from her point of view. She was a ballerina—a talent I did not inherit, even though I do love to dance—and had to maintain a certain image. But I’m not a fucking ballerina and I still rarely indulge in anything with too many carbs. But if I want to work in fashion one day, it’s best I train myself now.
I wish I could be more like Tess.
Free.
“So, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong,” Tess gestures with the last half of her burger, “or are you just gonna sulk silently?”
“I vote for the second option.” I poke my paper straw around my water, but don’t bother taking a sip. I’m really not that hungry. Or thirsty.
“Did you see your new man?” she teases me. I guess she sees something in my stupidly expressive face because she sets down her burger and her perfectly arched brows fly high up on her head. “It’s about him, isn’t it?” She rolls her eyes. “If this dude is already causing you problems and you just met his ass, get out before it gets worse.” I know she’s thinking about Tad, the poet.
I sigh. “It’s not that. It’s just…he went back to Toronto today.”
She frowns. “You miss him? Is that it? Because, look, Ava, you’ve got dudes who would willingly beat down your door to take your mind off of him.” Then, abruptly, she stops talking and leans back in the booth, crossing her arms. “Wait a minute,” she says, and I see the wheels turning. “You said earlier I could meet him after class. Did this fool not tell you he was leaving?”
Why does she have to be so perceptive?
I throw up my hands, defeated. “Nope. He didn’t. He told Riley to tell me.”
Her mouth drops open. “He did not.”
I nod, growing angrier. “Yeah,” I say, “he did.” I glance at my phone. Nothing.
“What’s going on with you and Dumont?” Tess asks, wisely changing the subject, trying to get my mind off this asshole. The other asshole.
I flip my phone over so I’ll stop looking at it, and sigh, slouching back in the booth as I eye Tess’s fries with envy.
“Nothing important.” And then I realize I haven’t told her. “Him and his wife…well, she’s not his wife anymore.” I run a hand through my hair, thinking of Riley and Caden this morning, wondering why she has to be escorted everywhere to class. Isn’t that shit annoying?
Or am I just jealous no one is escorting me to class?
“What? Girl, why haven’t you told me that?” Tess drops her fry. “That’s like…big news.”
I swallow. “Yeah, I know, sorry…” I trail off, drumming my fingers on the table.
“And how are you feeling about it?” Tess asks, her brown eyes soft. She hates what I’ve got going on with Dumont, partly because he was married, and partly because he’s our professor. But I know, at the end of the day, Tess has my back no matter what, and if I’m happy, she’ll be happy.
But I’m not happy.
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “I kind of wish he wasn’t officially divorced.” I huff an awkward laugh. “I know that makes me nuts, right?”
Tess rolls her eyes, dusts off her fingers and clasps them in front of her on the table. “No,” she says carefully, “it just means that you don’t really want him like he might want you.” She shrugs. “Besides, now he’s just looking for a pity fuck and to not be so damn lonely. Don’t let him suck you into his post-divorce sulkiness.”
I laugh at her tone and a smile tugs on her full lips.
“Trust me, man, I would know all about that.”
It’s true. Her own parents got divorced just a couple of years ago, when she was starting college. Her mom kept the house, her dad moved away, and then they both ended up with other lovers weeks later.
Post-divorce sulkiness, I guess.
“How’s your mom?” she asks softly, leaning closer, shoving her tray out of the way.
It’s moments like these, when I bitch about my petty problems and she asks about the biggest one, I realize I’m a horrible friend. I know what’s going on in Tess’s life. I know about Tad and his shitty poems and how he sells pot on campus and I know that her mom is dating a guy closer to Tess’s age than hers, and that Tess is going to grad school in the spring and that she’s smarter than I ever could dream of being.
I know all of these things, but as usual, we’re talking about me. The mess that is my life. We’re both extremely privileged, but sometimes I feel like Tess was born with some innate goodness that I’ll never have.
I bury my head in my hands. “Not good.” It’s the truth, and yet it doesn’t seem to do the situation justice. At all. But it’s the easiest thing to say, because I don’t want to talk about it. Or think about it.
Her fingers lace around mine, pulling my hand from my face. She squeezes my hand across the table. “Do you want me to stay over? At your place tonight?”
I really do need to stay home. I spent this weekend with people I just met, who obviously have their own issues that they don’t feel like sharing with me, and while it was fun, I need to be home.
I know I do.
And yet when I go there, I feel like I’m suffocating. Tomorrow I’ll be meeting Dumont, maybe to tell him to back the fuck off, and tonight…
“Yeah,” I tell Tess. “It would be awesome if you stayed.”
She grins at me. “As long as you don’t skip out on leg day with me tonight.”
I groan. “Never.”
Nine
Nearly a week passes, and on Friday night, I’m sitting in the back of a club having a drink when I should be focusing. More alert. Looking for Rolland.
No one knows where he is, not after we learned he took a flight here.
I increased security at Riley’s condo, with Caden’s knowledge. He’s on edge, which means they’re fighting more than usual, but he’s terrified his father will hurt her again. I can understand his nerves. I have the same ones.
But they manifest differently.
Things are going well in Toronto, and I’ve refused to take on any more hits until I get Rolland taken care of, which pisses Felix off because we don’t get paid as much on dealing, but he’ll have to get over himself.
I never left North Carolina. I intended to, to take care of shit back home, but I know Felix has it under control, angry or not.
I never replied to Ava’s text either. And she just sent another one, with a shitload of question marks, which makes me think she’s probably drunk. Some strange part of me, that part that was born when Bianca got hurt, wants to call her and demand to know where she is. I want to go to her, not to interfere in her fun, but to watch.
To look out for her.
But I know where that gets me.
Fucking nowhere.
I’m only doing it for Riley because we aren’t together. She’s become one of my best friends in a short amount of time, and yeah, we fucked, but it’s different. She’s Caden’s. I can keep her at a distance that way.
The waitress comes over to with another rum and Diet, and I nod my thanks. She glances down at the tattoos on my arm, my black watch, and then her eyes drag over me, my dark blue shirt, up my throat, my mouth, to my eyes. I feel like she’s undressing me right here.
She’s wearing tight white shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so low it doesn’t really seem sanitary but she’s fine, with long red hair and blue eyes.
“What’s your name?” she asks me, straight to the point. That Southern accent, the same one Ava has, does something to my dick.
I curl my fingers around the drink she brought and take a sip before I answer her, my gaze on hers.
“Benji,” I answer her. “Yours?�
�
She flashes me a smile, her teeth white and straight. “Carly,” she answers. “I get off soon.” She glances behind her, to the dance floor. I’m as far from it as I can get, so it’s relatively easy to hear her over the music. “Wanna join me when I’m done?”
This time, I let my eyes roam over her tight body; she’s got small tits but she’s not wearing a bra and they’re perky as hell, her legs long and tan.
She’s no Ava, but she’d do tonight.
I take another drink. “Sure,” I answer her with a grin. I don’t dance, but I’ll persuade her to do something else.
I didn’t think getting laid in the south would be so easy when I didn’t know anyone, but between her and Ava, well…it is.
But as Carly walks away, her hips swaying, I hear my phone vibrate again and see Ava has text me. Again.
You’re going to fuck the waitress?
My heart slams in my chest and I stand to my feet, looking around the dim club. How the hell would she see me before I saw her? That is not how this fucking works.
I finish off my drink and set it down, tuck my phone in my back pocket, still craning my neck like a dumbass, looking for a glimpse of Ava’s long blonde hair. Who is she here with? Riley? Caden?
Nah, he would have told me. He said they were staying in. Which is code for he was going to fuck her brains out and I’d probably be able to hear it from across the hall.
I hear someone cough from beside me and I turn, tearing my eyes reluctantly away from the dance floor.
Ava’s got a smirk on her face, hand on her hip. She’s wearing another blue dress, but this one barely hits mid-thigh. She’s got black booties and a few silver bracelets on her wrist that probably cost more than most people’s entire outfit here.
“Boo,” she teases.
I step out of the booth and turn to face her. “You spying on me?” I’m trying to get my shit under control, but I can’t believe this girl showed up here without me knowing about it. Then again, this is the only club in Briar itself; I should have guessed she might be here. It’s Friday night.
The double dose of Xanax earlier this evening probably didn’t help either. It’s making my mind cloudy, but on the plus side, it stops me from having panic attacks. Usually.
The smirk falls from her face though and she glances down at the floor, then absentmindedly adjusts the strap on her dress. I wish she’d let it fall. Shit, I’d fuck her right here if she’d let me.
“No,” she says, squaring her shoulders as if she’s going on an attack. “If I was, I’d have flown to Toronto, since that’s where you were supposed to be.”
She’s got guts. I like it. I remember the fact that her mother is dying, and I kind of want to ask her about it, but what’s the point, pretending I care?
I dip my chin, eyeing her. “I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you all of my whereabouts. Is that what happens in the south? You hook up once and then you owe each other something?”
She narrows her clear blue eyes and then shakes her head, making to push past me. “Fuck off,” she says as she walks by.
I grab her wrist and spin her around so she’s facing me. Yeah, maybe I’m being harsh, but the reality is a girl like Ava couldn’t handle a guy like me. I don’t even want her to have to. Most days, I can barely handle my fucking self.
“You alone?” I ask her.
She snorts. “I don’t come to clubs alone.” She eyes me up and down. “Unlike you, apparently.”
“Benji,” I hear a voice drawl behind me. Ava glances over my shoulder and her scowl deepens. She yanks her wrist from my grip.
“And I guess you won’t be leaving alone.” And then she turns and stalks off while I’m left to face the waitress. The one I no longer want anything to do with.
Why the fuck am I such a shit?
I turn to face Carly and find her grinning up at me. “Ready?” she croons, stepping toward me, pausing when her body is an inch from mine.
“No,” I bite out, “wanna get out of here?” Might as well be direct. I won’t fuck her, but damn I need a distraction.
Her eyes flash, and she looks confused for a moment, and a little nervous, but then she closes the space between us, her hand on my chest.
“Where’d you have in mind?” she asks. She’s got gum in her mouth, and I can smell the fruity scent of it on her breath. I don’t like it.
“My place.” I should get back anyway, just in case Rolland does something stupid like try to kill the people that know he murdered his son.
Carly trails her hand down my shirt. “Let’s go then.”
I glance behind me and spot Ava dancing with a brunette girl, but there’s a guy approaching her, whispering something in her ear. I remember when Caden was in this position, watching Riley grind over some other guy.
I remember what he did.
Dragged her out of the club and into an alleyway.
I swallow down my jealousy. I’m not Caden. I don’t go after girls. Not anymore.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I turn back to Carly.
“One sec,” I say, fishing it out. She looks momentarily annoyed, but I don’t give a shit. When my phone rings, I look. It’s part of the job.
Going to Crate, wanna come with?
It’s Caden. Which is great news. It means he’s done fucking Riley and his head will be on straight when he comes here. I can text Riley to keep an eye out on Ava, and leave with the waitress.
“Ready,” I tell Carly.
She grins and reaches for my hand. I let her take it, and together, we walk through the crowd of people, headed for the exit.
I don’t want to fuck this girl, but I want to fuck around with someone, and she’ll do. I resist the urge to look back at Ava one more time as we walk out into the warm August night.
“You can follow me in your car.” I nod toward the black Mercedes, my rental down here. I see Carly’s eyes widen as she follows my gaze, and her hand shifts up to my bicep.
“I can ride with you,” she shrugs, “take a cab back in the morning.”
Not gonna happen.
I shake my head to tell her as much when my phone buzzes again. I pull it out without giving Carly an excuse this time. It’s a number I don’t know.
She’s beautiful, Benji. The mayor’s daughter and Riley both will look good on their knees in front of me.
It’s a North Carolina number, a Raleigh area code. Immediately, I shrug Carly off of me and dial the number, spinning around in the parking lot outside of Crate. My heart is hammering in my chest, but if I can get this shit done right here and right now, all the better. I’ve been waiting for this.
The phone goes to an automatic voicemail.
“Fuck!” I swear, scanning the parking lot again. I glance to the bouncer at the entrance, but he looks high as a fucking kite and about as useful.
“What’s wrong?” Carly asks quietly beside me.
“I’m sorry but I can’t leave with you,” I tell her, ready for her to get the fuck out of here. I cross the parking lot to my car, open up the passenger side door and pull the gun out from the glove box. I grab my black jacket and put it on, putting the gun in my waistband.
Carly is still behind me.
I shut and lock my door. “Have a good night,” I tell her with a nod and then walk back toward the club before she can say anything else.
I send Caden a text telling him to stay the fuck at the condo.
I don’t go after girls.
But I sure as fuck am not going to leave Ava here either.
After I drop her grumbly friend, Tess, off at her apartment on Campbell’s campus, I drive with a sulking Ava back to the condo.
“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” she asks for the dozenth time, her arms folded over her chest. She’s staring straight ahead into the night through the windshield, her jaw clenched.
She’s pissed and kind of drunk.
Tess was pissed.
Caden is pissed. I didn’
t tell him the truth, I just told him I had a bad feeling, which made him more pissed. Riley went to bed because she’s sick of this shit and thinking of Rolland makes her feel sick. Hell, it makes me feel sick and he didn’t even fuck me over. Not like he did her.
“No,” I answer Ava for the dozenth time.
She sighs, loudly, as I speed down the highway. I glance at her, see her lips pursed in a pout. When the fuck did Rolland see me with her? Inside the club? My skin crawls thinking about the fact he could be that close.
Why would he text me, though?
A warning, to make it more fun?
I know he wants me dead. Riley, too. Probably even his own son. He doesn’t want us to go to the cops about what he did to Jack. How he staged his death as a suicide and blamed that shit on Riley, even though it was fucking murder.
Why would he drag Ava into this, though? Rolland Virani has a reputation to uphold back in Toronto. He can’t afford to be dropping people like flies.
But I can.
And I fucking will.
I turn off the exit, slowing the car until we come to a stoplight.
“Take me home.”
“No.” I know that probably makes her uncomfortable, but I don’t give a shit. I fucked up looking out for a girl once and I’m not doing it again.
“Take me home, Benji, or I’ll call my father.”
I turn at the light and laugh. “No,” I say, rolling down the windows now that we’re off the highway. I rest one arm on the windowsill, the other on the wheel. “I’m not scared of your dad, Ava. Call him. I’ll talk to him myself if you want me to.”
“My mom is dying you fucking asshole,” she suddenly screams at me. She’s twisted in her seat and I actually jump at her raised voice. It came out of nowhere.
I glance at her and see her eyes are lined with red, and it isn’t from crying. “So you went clubbing to forget about her?”
Her face twists in anger and she bites her tongue for a second before her face clears and she faces front again. “Fuck you,” she says so quietly I can barely hear it.