Rumors: Angela & Tyler

by Rachael Brownell

  Once we were done, I called Vinnie to pass on the information he would need to order his tux. I tried to get him to come to town today, even if just for a quick visit, but he used every excuse in the book to avoid getting on a plane.

  No money.

  He's busy.

  Work.

  All excuses with a simple solution.

  A solution I plan to bring up to my father when I see him Monday morning.

  With our clubs slung over our shoulders, Hunter, Ryder, and I head inside the dome, a friendly wager already on the table. This is normal for us, betting against each other, but the stakes feel higher today for some reason.

  One bucket of balls each.

  Five balls per club.

  Farthest shot with each club wins twenty bucks.

  Not only do I plan on taking their money this afternoon, the person who pays out the most money has to buy alcohol for tonight.

  For the engagement party that Ang should be finding out about in a few hours.

  I thought about calling her, giving her a heads up. She doesn't necessarily hate surprises, but I'm sure after spending all day with family and friends, she's going to want to head home and relax.

  Not an option according to Ryder.

  Emerson's been planning this for weeks. She put as much effort into the bridal shower as she has the engagement party. Even if Ang doesn't like her surprise, she's going to go along with it. That also means I have to.

  So after a bucket of balls, and a little friendly competition, we're headed back to my place really quick and then over to Ryder’s for the party. Emerson put Ryder in charge of booze, his one and only task, and he's trying to pawn it off on the rest of us.

  Go figure.

  My head hangs low, my wallet lighter, as we walk out of the dome an hour later. I'm not sure how it happened, but Hunter kicked my ass. Ryder's too.

  There's a first time for everything, and when it came to giving up his hard earned money, Hunter put up a good fight. Better than we did, anyway.

  "I'll stop at the store and meet you over there," I say to Ryder and Hunter as I slide out of Ryder's truck.

  "I want beer. The good shit, not that cheap swill you like to buy when you lose a bet," Hunter remarks with a smirk on his face.

  "Yeah, yeah. See you assholes in an hour."

  Hunter's idea of 'good shit' is craft beer. There are about three dozen local breweries within fifty miles of here. The beer is strong and expensive. There's only one I like, and it just so happens to be Hunter's least favorite.

  But I'm going to pretend I don't remember that.

  Because if I'm buying, I'm buying what I like. Even if he's going to kick my ass for it.

  Two hundred bucks later, I'm pulling up to Ryder's house and sliding into the only spot left in the driveway. Cars line the street on both sides and I can hear the music already pumping from inside.

  Popping the trunk, I grab as many bags as I can and head inside in search of my bride-to-be.

  She's in the kitchen. An enormous wine glass in her hand with the word 'bride' etched on the outside in bright pink. She's still wearing the long, cotton dress she left the house in this morning, a reminder that I was supposed to bring her something else to wear.

  I didn't.

  Ryder passed the message along before the competition started and it slipped my mind.

  "Babe!" she hollers when she catches sight of me.

  Then she's running.

  Dropping all the bags at my feet, I catch her and take a step back to keep us from falling as she peppers my face with kisses.

  "What do you think?" she asks as she slides down my body.

  That dress, the thin material, riding up and giving me a glimpse of her legs. The same legs she had wrapped around me, while wearing the dress, right before we walked out the door this morning.

  That's all I'm going to be able to think about for the rest of the night.

  Being deep inside her, her dress pushed up around her hips, the concrete kitchen counter under her ass.

  It's a great visual image. A repeat performance wouldn't be a horrible idea.

  Right now, I need to focus on something other than being inside her or I'm going to have a noticeable tent in my jeans for the rest of the night.

  And my parents are here.

  Well, that'll do it.

  "It's great. Are you having a good time?"

  "Yes! You should see all the stuff we got today. Come here," she says excitedly, dragging me down the hall into the guest bedroom.

  When she opens the door, my jaw hits the floor.

  Is there anything left on the registry?

  That's when I see them.

  The poop brown kitchen towels. The ones I prayed no one would buy for us. And they’re the first thing Ang picks up, telling me who bought them for us.

  I just need to get through this week. Then... vacation.

  Friday after work, we're flying out for my bachelor party. I'm going to miss Ang, but I need a break right now. My sanity is hanging on by a thread.

  Next week I'm only working a few days so I can help Ang with any final details we need to attend to and play chauffeur for the guests coming in from out of town.

  So I have exactly eight days to cram ten days’ worth of work into. It's not going well so far.

  I can't focus. My mind is all over the place. Macie is sick and even though she came in today, she's wasn't getting much accomplished, so I sent her home.

  Deciding to take a break, I head down the hall to grab a Coke from the break room.

  That's when my heart drops in my stomach.

  Opening the break room door, Allison's words slam into me. She doesn't realize I'm standing less than five feet behind her. She's not exactly being quiet as she whispers to Hunter's new assistant, Kimmie.

  Kimmie's eyes go wide as I step into the room, catching Allison's attention. Looking over her shoulder, she shoots me a smile. It lacks all emotion.

  No sympathy for the words she shared with Kimmie.

  No excitement for the announcement she's just made.

  No shock at seeing me standing behind her.

  Most noticeably, there's no concern at being caught.

  The gossip queen. She takes pride in knowing everything that's going on around the office. She's the hub of information.

  One day, it's going to bite her in the ass. As much as I like Allison, as much as I respect the work she does around here, I hate the other side of her. The side that tends to show itself whenever she's bored.

  Allison likes to be the center of attention.

  Rumors seem to spread any time she's not at the forefront.

  Rumors are like a drug for her. They give her power. They make her feel important. Each one feeds her appetite for more.

  More rumors.

  More lies.

  More secrets among friends.

  Only Kimmie isn't her friend. Not yet. Justine, Emerson, Angela, and even Megan... those are her friends. Yet, now that I think about it, those are also the people she spreads rumors about.

  "Allison," I finally say, moving to stand behind her.

  "Hey, Tyler. Did you need something?" she asks, batting her eyelashes at me in an attempt to look innocent.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I know better. Allison is far from innocent, and it appears she's planning on corrupting a younger version of herself.

  It makes sense.

  Justine has Devon. Emerson has Ryder. There's no one in the office that can relate to the single life she enjoys so much aside from Kimmie and Macie.

  Maybe she should stick with Megan. Megan is her twin on many levels. Far from innocent and single as far as I know. Unless she's still sleeping with the man she cheated on Ryder with. It wouldn't surprise me if she was. She hates being alone. Always has.

  "Just grabbing a soda," I reply, my eyes never leaving hers.

  "The fridge is over there," she says, pointing past Kimmie who looks like she's about to
be sick.

  At least she cares she's been caught. She should care. New job and this is the impression you make on one of your bosses... yeah, she should care she was caught.

  Not that I place the blame on her. I'm sure it was all Allison.

  "Don't you ladies have work to do?"

  Hunter is the slave driver around here. Ryder is Mr. Intensity. Me? I'm normally laid back. I tend to go with the flow.

  Right now, I'm channeling my brothers to the best of my ability.

  My serious tone doesn't escape Allison. She takes note of it, stands, and moves past me in a rush. Kimmie is right behind her, the click-clack of her heels echoing off the walls as she quickly exits.

  Taking a seat in Allison's now-vacant chair, I rest my head in my hands and soak in the words I heard only minutes earlier.

  Pregnant.

  There's no way Ang is pregnant and I don't know about it. That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. We haven't talked about kids, but I'm sure they're part of our future.

  I was hoping in a few years, after we've had time to enjoy married life, but if she's pregnant now...

  No.

  It's not possible.

  She would tell me if she was.

  There would be signs. Wouldn’t she be sick in the mornings? Craving food all the time? Moody? Well, moodier.

  Pushing back from the table, I grab a Coke from the fridge and head back to my office. When I pass Allison's desk, she keeps her head down and avoids eye contact. Kimmie's not as smart. She watches me walk in her direction, her eyes widening, panic welling in her chest as she fidgets with the papers in her hand.

  I don't break eye contact with her until I turn into my office.

  I'm not an intimidating person. I leave that to Hunter.

  I try to be friendly and helpful.

  Right now, the anger welling inside me has me hulking out. Slamming my door behind me, I toss the unopened can of soda on my chair and clench my fists. Pacing the length of the room, I think back over the last six months.

  Allison has said a lot of things, started a lot of rumors. Some have been fact based, others pure speculation. I've heard them all but never really listened. Why would I? Before Ryder and Emerson, they'd all turned out to be false. There was no merit to them.

  Then, when the rumors about Justine and that asshole floated around the office, I thought maybe it was a fluke that the rumor about Emerson and Ryder was true. So I watched.

  There was no indication she was sleeping with him. There also wasn't any evidence to prove otherwise.

  She agreed to work with him, knowing there was bad blood between them. She assured me she was fine, that she could handle the situation. I shouldn't have allowed it. I knew he was a part of her past.

  The problem with your past... it can haunt you. When confronted with it, you can either look the other way or deal with it head on. Justine didn't run, she didn't hide, she dealt with her shit.

  It backfired.

  It sparked the rumors.

  Did I ever really believe she was sleeping with a client? No, but there was a moment when I doubted her. I'll never tell her that. I felt awful for even thinking it might be true. That's when I decided to see for myself what was going on.

  I put them together, alone, in a room. I watched it unfold. I saw the fear in her eyes turn to anger and hatred. He was a shady bastard too. He has us all fooled. What a douchebag.

  Justine and Devon's relationship suffered a minor hiccup. But, in the end, it all worked out the way it was supposed to.

  Snagging my Coke, I drop into my chair, waiting to open it until I’m certain it won’t explode in my face. That’s the last thing I need right now.

  My desk is littered with files. Files that would be organized and put away already if Justine was still my assistant. I'd be on my way home to my fiancée instead of trying to make sense of this mess.

  My fiancée who might be keeping a secret from me.

  Who might be pregnant. With child. My child.

  Did I mention how much I hate secrets?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Angela

  For as much as Emerson has tried to keep our destination a secret, she sure has given me a bunch of clues. When I asked what to pack, she was specific. She also told me to make sure to leave room in my suitcase.

  Bathing suit.

  Flip flops.

  Casual dresses.

  Reading down the list, I automatically assume we're headed somewhere tropical. My only hesitation is there's no mention of a passport.

  We've discussed many times that the best beaches require traveling the furthest. Leaving the country. Sure, we're only going to be gone for three days and two nights. Still, I can't imagine Em settling for anything less than the best beach in the best location.

  Continuing down the list, my mind begins to consider other destinations.

  Club attire.

  Walking shoes.

  Cross-body purse.

  Either Em has multiple stops on our journey or we're going somewhere that offers culture and relaxation all in one package. I've been pestering her to tell me more, but her lips are sealed.

  Or they were until she told Ty where we were headed last night.

  All she had to do was keep it to herself for two more days. Either her excitement got the best of her or she was second-guessing her decisions.

  Knowing Em, it was a combination of both I'm sure.

  So as Ty and I seamlessly move around each other, each packing our respective bags, I pester him for details to no avail. I even tried to bribe him with sexual favors.

  For a minute, I thought he might break. It was worth a shot, especially since we won't see each other for almost three days.

  "As fun as that sounds," he begins, zipping up his suitcase and sliding it onto the floor. "I want you to be surprised. It sounds like Emerson put a lot into planning this weekend for you, and if you know what to expect, you won't have as much fun."

  "What if I knew where you were headed? Would you tell me then?"

  Please say yes. If he does, I'm calling Ryder and demanding he tells me.

  "Nope. I already have a pretty good idea of where we're headed. Ryder sucks at keeping secrets."

  "Oh yeah, smartass. Where are you going, then?"

  How could he possibly know anything? Last I checked, Ryder told him to pack summer clothes and his golf clubs. They could be headed anywhere.

  "South. To golf. That's all I know and all I care about. Plus, do you have any idea how many amazing golf courses are open right now? I'd kill to play any of them after the long winter we've had."

  Golfing. That's his guess, and as far as destination, he doesn't seem to give a shit.

  Ty takes the shirt I'm wringing from my hands and tosses it down on the bed, pulling me into his arms. "Babe, wherever you go, you're going to have a great time. That's all that should matter."

  "I know," I pout even though I know he can't see my face.

  "Finish packing and then I'll take your bag downstairs for you. Em should be here to pick you up in a little bit."

  Releasing me, Ty grabs his suitcase and leaves me to ponder my destination alone. As soon as he's out of the room, my phone chimes, a text message from Emerson popping up on the screen.

  EM: Do you still have the mask you wore to that party in college?

  ME: The masquerade party?

  EM: Yeah, that one.

  ME: Somewhere, why?

  EM: Bring it.

  ME: ???

  EM: Be there in twenty.

  ME: Seriously. Why?

  EM: You'll see soon enough.

  Tossing in the last of my things, I call Ty to help me with my suitcase while I search the boxes I shoved in the guest bedroom closet for the mask. It's in the first box I check, thankfully, and as I'm carefully putting it in my suitcase, I hear Emerson honk.

  "Gotta go, babe," I call down the hallway to Tyler.

  He appears moments later, pulling me in for a hug, and whis
pers in my ear. "Have fun in New Orleans, babe. Stay out of trouble."

  New Orleans.

  The big easy.

  Relaxation and culture, just like I assumed from her list. Never in a million years would I have guessed that was our destination, but now that I know it is, I couldn't be happier.

  "You invited her?"

  The moment we walk through the front doors of the house Emerson rented for the weekend, my eyes connect with Megan. She's coming down the stairs, Allison at her side. Justine and Jill are behind them.

  My own personal welcoming committee.

  "Play nice. She invited herself."

  "It's about time," Allison says as I drop my suitcase at my feet.

  "Sorry. Our connecting flight was delayed an hour." Emerson's apology falls on deaf ears. Allison is already walking away, Megan in tow.

  "Hey!" I say as Jill pulls me in for a hug. "Thanks for coming."

  "New Orleans. In March. Hell yes! Plus, when I told my professors why I wouldn't be in class today, they excused me."

  "Nice," Justine comments, nudging Jill with her elbow. "You ready for a Saints and Sinners weekend?"

  Looking to Em, she's smirking at me. When I don't respond, she raises her eyebrow, a look of concern flashing across her face.

  "Depends on who's sinning," I finally say, turning back to Justine.

  "My guess would be either Megan or Allison. Maybe both."

  The four of us laugh at Jill's comment before heading up the stairs to get settled. The house Em rented is enormous. Five bedrooms, one for each of the five of us that were invited. Megan and Allison are bunking together. Hopefully that will keep them out of trouble.

  There's a hot tub out back and a game room off the kitchen. The house came fully stocked with food and snacks. We have to provide our own alcohol, but according to Justine, that's already been taken care of.

  "Where to first?" I ask once we're all gathered in the kitchen.

  "Well, it's Friday night. We're in New Orleans. We were thinking we'd check out the French Quarter. What do you think?" Emerson suggests before anyone else can speak up.

  "I'm game for anything. I'm starving, though, so we have to get food first." My stomach growls at the mention of food, eliciting a laugh from Justine who's the only one standing close enough to hear it.