by Emily Bishop
We’d driven down in Luke’s Porsche, and my buddy had to be pissed if he’d simply left me here to rot. Or maybe, he’d be back. He might need time to cool off.
“Still doesn’t help the Aurora situation,” I muttered and stopped in front of my door. I inserted the key in the lock, turned it then let myself into the room.
Felicity lay on the bed, wearing lingerie I’d bought for her a year ago, for an anniversary. Red lace cups lifted her breasts and gave her cleavage she couldn’t attain naturally, and below it, filmy material clung to her curves, accentuating her slender hips. She dragged one leg over the other and smiled. “Hey, babe,” she said.
“How the hell did you get in my room?” I asked, still with one hand on the doorknob.
“I made a copy of the key,” she said. “So what? It’s not a big deal, is it?”
The woman made my head spin, and not in a good way. Not two hours ago, she’d shrieked insults at me in front of a parade of press members. “You’re out of your mind,” I said. “Felicity, I’m serious. I think you should see a doctor.”
“I’m not crazy,” she said and scooched upright, tucking her knees underneath her body. “I’m wild about you. I—everything I’ve done over the past few weeks has been to get you to see that we’re meant to be together.”
“How? You’ve only made me despise you,” I said and still didn’t enter the room. I wouldn’t while she was in there, dressed like that.
“Think of it like this,” she said and put out both hands, palms to the ceiling. “People want us to be together.” She lifted one of her hands. “When they found out about you and Aurora, they hated it. They hate the thought of you together.” She lowered her other hand. “Obviously, us being together pleases them, and if it pleases them, it’s good for us. Good for business.” She slipped off the bed and sauntered over, wiggling toward me, undulating like a snake.
I stepped back into the hall, so she couldn’t reach me. “I don’t care what people think.”
Felicity stopped and barked a laugh. “Of course you do. You want what’s best for your career, and what’s best for mine. Why else would you have fake fired me in front of those reporters? You were playing along.”
“I was serious.”
She blinked at me. “No, it was a fake out.” Did she think so much of herself that she couldn’t be fired? “I know it was, because I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you or any of your movies.”
“Nope.”
“We’re the same, you and me. We understand that any press is good press. Everyone’s going to want to know what will happen next. Will Pride’s Death feature me? Will I be the star, and if so, what will it mean for our relationship?” Felicity clasped her hands together, in front of her breasts. “They’re going to eat that shit up. The movie will be a hit, because people won’t be able to stay away. The mystery will be too much for them. The intrigue.”
On a base level, I understood her. I understood what she’d become and how it’d happened because for a long time, I’d been a part of that world with her.
Everything was about views, likes, money. The world was giant stage, and humanity was a crowd of nameless, faceless beings, voting for who was the most popular.
But I’d never truly believed that crap, where Felicity lived her life by it. It was her daily bread and butter.
“I’m not interested in any of that. I’m in love with Aurora.”
“The witch?” Felicity rolled her eyes. “Come on, Jay. You’re not stupid. She was using you for a quick fuck. She’s obviously a little loose. You got it out of your system, consider it your revenge for me having cheated on you. Let’s get back to normal.”
She wasn’t dumb either, but she was stubborn and ambitious, and that meant she wouldn’t let this go without real proof that I was done.
Done with everything.
Time to kill two birds with one stone. How could I prove I was serious to her and Aurora in one fell swoop?
I took my cell phone out of my pocket, unlocked the screen then tapped on my contacts app.
“What are you doing?” Felicity asked, standing inside the room.
I dialed Rod Teller’s number and put the phone to my ear.
“Tombs,” he answered, in a croak. “It’s late. Why the fuck are you calling me at this time of the night?”
“It’s over, Rod. I’m dropping Pride’s Death,” I said.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Felicity asked, voice rising. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“Are you serious, Jarryd?” Rod cleared his throat. “Because if you make this decision, there’s no going back. If you can the movie, it’s done. And I’m not one hundred percent sure I’ll be interested in supporting another one of your endeavors.”
“I understand, Rod. This project has gotten out of hand. I thought I could make it work, but I’m officially admitting defeat. I apologize for wasting your time.”
“Hey, man, it’s no sweat off my ass. This is probably going to look bad for you, though,” Rod said.
“I’ll speak to my accountant and get things straightened out,” I finished.
“Good. You take care now, kiddo. I’ve got to get some shut eye.” He hung up before I could wish him well. The defeat in his tone had damn near made me take the words back.
This was the first time I’d given up on a project in our entire working history together. Weirdly, it didn’t feel like a failure. It felt like I’d drawn a line in the sand, at last. A line between what I wanted to do professionally and personally.
I held my cell and stared at the now blank screen. It was over.
“You’re fucking insane,” Felicity hissed.
“It’s over,” I said. “Do you see that now, or do I need to have you escorted from my room?”
Felicity let out a tiny yowl then marched back to my bed. She snatched up her robe and threw it on, jerking the sleeves over her arms. “If you think I’m going to let a man threaten my career, you’re deluded. I’ve worked too hard and come too far to let that happen. You’re going to cast me in a movie or else.”
“Or else? What are you, the fucking mafia?” I laughed.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” she screeched. “I’m everything. I made you who you are today. If it wasn’t for me, people wouldn’t care about your crappy thriller movies. You’re only famous by association.”
Total crap, but I’d let her have the fantasy. “Cool,” I said. “Thanks for clarifying that. Now, get out of my room. It’s over. In every way. Felicity, I don’t ever want to see you again, not in person. Not at parties or at meetings. Not in any capacity. You’re literally the last person I’d speak to. After today, this moment, it’s done.”
Her lips worked, peeled back across her teeth. “Bastard. You were lucky to have me.” She pushed past me and into the hall then streaked down it to her own room and disappeared inside. The door slammed so hard, the wall sconce rattled.
Thank fuck that was over. It’d been a long time coming. I’d let Felicity run amok, simply because I’d been taken in by Aurora’s presence.
“Aurora,” I said and entered my room. That fight hadn’t solved my problem. I still couldn’t reach her. There had to be a way.
My phone blipped, and I swiped the screen and opened the message. It was from Luke.
Sorry I left you high and dry. You’d better find a car, buddy. I’m here with your girl. She’s stranded out on the highway in the storm. Engine’s fucked.
My pulse raced. Mama Kate had said as much—that the universe wouldn’t let her get far since our fates were intertwined.
“There’s got to be a way.” I texted back: On my way. Keep her there. Not that she could go anywhere in the middle of a storm with her engine crapped out. I shoved my cell back into my pocket.
I left the room again, not even bothering to lock it behind me, and raced back down the hall to the front desk. Kevin looked up, Coke can halfway to his mouth.
“Does the guy who owns th
e Bar and Grill have a car?”
“Ol’ Jerr?” Kevin asked. “Yeah.”
“Thanks,” I said and raced for the door without another word. Jerr, huh? He’d been protective over Aurora, kind of like a father figure, and that meant he’d want to help her in her time of need, didn’t it?
I burst out into the night, and the rain flattened the hair to my head immediately. The shirt that had only just started drying out was sodden within a minute. I sloshed through a puddle and jogged through the motel’s parking lot, to the sidewalk.
Fifteen minutes of slogging through the rain, flinching at the thunder tolls and chain lightning, and I reached the Moondance Bar and Grill. The wooden doors were shut tight, but lights were on inside.
I banged on the door, dripping, shivering, and cursing the fucking storm. Fuck it, after this, I’d be immune to them. No one came to open up, so I knocked again, this time using both fists and throwing all my weight into it. The restaurant’s doors creaked on their hinges.
“Jerr!” I yelled. “Open up!”
“Who the hell is that?” the old man answered. “It’s storming out there, Christ.” The latch snapped back, and the right-side door swung inward.
Jerr stood there, holding his shotgun in one hand. He wore his apron and an expression that matched the thunderclouds above. “What in the heck do you want?”
“I know you don’t like me,” I said. “I acted like a nut sack the last time I was in here, but I need your help. It’s about Aurora.”
He looked me up and down, sucking on his teeth.
“She’s trapped on the road out of town.”
“All right, come on in,” Jerry said, at last, and stepped back to admit me.
I sputtered water and stepped under the lintel and into the warmth of the restaurant’s interior. A fire crackled in the central grate, and I slopped over to it. “She’s stuck out there. Her RV broke down.”
“Stuck out there, eh? Maybe, she wouldn’t be out there at all if it wasn’t for you.” Jerry grunted. “It’s fine, boy, I’ll fetch her myself. I gassed up the truck this afternoon.”
“No,” I said and started forward, caught his gun-wielding arm.
He looked down at the point of contact between us then back up at my face. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I have to be the one to go to her,” I said. “She needs me.”
“You’ve done more than enough,” he replied, and his voice trembled. “When that girl left town a few years ago, it was like somebody ripped out a piece of my heart. She was like a daughter to me, still is. She finally came back. She wanted to set up a life here, and then you arrived and fucked it up for her. She can’t show her face in public because of you.”
“She can, and she will,” I replied. “Because god damn it, I’m going to make her mine for the world to see.”
“You’re going to make her yours? Why now? Why make her yours now when you treated her like a secret before? If you’d come out with it and acted upfront, people woulda known she was your girlfriend, not some damn homewrecker like on the TV.”
“It was complicated at the time.” But it was a lame excuse. “I regret it. I want to make it up to her.”
“It’s too late for that,” Jerry said. “She’s not for you, and you’re not for her. She’s going to move on and have a good life. I’ll go out and help her. You pack your shit and get outta Moondance.”
I tightened my grip on his arm. “I said no. I’m not leaving unless it’s to go to her.”
“Boy, you better let go of me.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot? If you let her leave Moondance, you may as well fucking shoot me, you understand?” I yelled. “Because I’ve fallen in love with her, and I’m not going to let you or anyone else get in the way of that!”
Jerry was frozen, already thin lips drawn into a line, accented by the wrinkles on either side of his mouth. “You love her?”
“Yeah, I love her. I’ll do anything to protect her and to get her back.”
“If you hurt her—”
“I’m not going to.”
Jerry inhaled, a long, deep breath. “I might live to regret this,” he said then reached into his pocket and drew out a set of keys. “But all right, here you go. Don’t fuck up my truck.”
“Thanks,” I said, and it came out hoarse. I took the keys from him and pressed them into my palm. The fire had dried my back but the front dripped still. None of the discomfort or anger mattered.
She was out there, and I had a chance to make things right, at last.
“Don’t fuck this up,” Jerry said.
“I don’t plan on it.”
Chapter 30
Aurora
I got up from the kitchen table and shuffled through to the bathroom then brought Luke a towel. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything? I have coffee, food, the works. I mean, you’ve got a long drive ahead.”
“I’m fine,” Luke said. “Help should arrive shortly.”
I sighed. “All right. I feel so hopeless, like I should be doing something with my hands, you know?” I opened the cupboard under my tiny sink and brought out Mistress’s kibble. I opened the package then poured some into her bowl. The rattle of the pellets hitting plastic was audible above the ongoing storm outside.
Mistress leaped into view and padded toward the food, her tail straight in the air.
“She’s hungry,” Luke said and grinned.
“She’s always hungry,” I corrected. “It must be a cat thing. If I didn’t measure out her food, she’d be overweight. I swear, it’s—”
But lights flashed past the side window and I cut off. It was another car! The rear lights lit up red as it slowed to a stop beside the RV. I cupped my hands at either side of my face and pressed it to the window.
Wait a second, I knew that truck. That was Jerry’s!
Another friendly face, thank god. “I didn’t know you were friends with Jerr,” I said and straightened, offering Luke a grin. “He happens to be one of my favorite people.” And he’d probably be pissed I’d chosen to skip town without saying goodbye.
Seeing him in person would’ve hurt too much, and he’d likely have tried to stop me.
Luke got up and walked to the exit. “I guess that’s my cue. Good luck,” he said then opened the door and left, squelching off into the rain.
What the heck? What did he mean, “Good luck?”
I walked over to the door and peered out into the night. Two figures stood in the rain next to Jerry’s truck. The lights were off, now, and I couldn’t make them out properly. Jerry and Luke? Why did Jerry seem taller than usual?
They hugged, and I blinked. Wow, since when did Jerry hug strangers? Or perhaps, they’d become friends over the course of the past couple weeks. It seemed unlikely.
The two men separated, and the taller of the two, Jerry, it had to be, walked toward the RV, through the rain. The torrent had slowed up a little, and the thunder was distant, now.
Luke’s Porsche started up, and the headlights flashed, illuminating the road, the side of Jerry’s truck, and providing a tiny bit of light by which to see the newcomer.
My heart almost gave out. It fluttered three times too fast then skipped several beats.
Jarryd walked through the rain, his head bowed, but his blue eyes fixed on me. His shirt clung to him, showing off the tight abs, the broad muscles at his shoulders. Every step brought him closer and drove up my fear. He was here. Why was he here?
He halted in front of the steps and looked up at me, his long lashes catching droplets. He blinked water, licked his wet lips. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I shook my head and stumbled back a step, put out my hand. “Don’t come any closer,” I said, over the rain. “Don’t you dare.”
“I came to help,” he said. “You need help.”
My core tightened up, I pressed my hands to my stomach, but it did nothing to still the butterflies swirling within. “No, I’m fine. I’m fine, you should leave, n
ow.”
“I won’t leave, Aurora. I came to help you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He clamped one tan hand onto the inside of the door and lifted himself into the interior of the RV. He dripped water on the floor. Mistress looked up from her kibble and meowed a greeting.
“I don’t need help from you. This is wrong. I told you it was over, Jarryd!” My ass hit the kitchen table, and I gripped it for leverage, to keep myself from falling. My legs had turned to jelly.
In the hours we’d been apart, I’d almost managed to forget what it felt like being close to him. The inexorable pull to touch him. He was perfect—the tiny wrinkles either side of his mouth, smile lines that spoke of happier times, the hook in his nose. There were droplets caught in his stubble.
My hand itched to reach up and smooth them away, but I kept it firmly at my side.
“We can talk about that later. Let’s fix the engine first.”
“I don’t know anything about engines,” I said, softly.
Jarryd took one step closer.
I scrambled away from him, sideways, like a crab. No, like a coward. Need crashed over me, wave after wave, accompanied by the scent of his cologne, light yet cloying—only because I couldn’t detach my emotional response from the smell of it.
“Stay away, please,” I said and choked on the sentence. “I need distance.”
“That’s fine. I’m going to go out there and check the engine, now. Do you have a flashlight?” He put out his hands as if I was a scared animal and he was the handler. “Aurora? A flashlight?”
“No,” I said and shook my head. “My phone’s not waterproof.”
“Ah!” His eyes lit up. “Good idea. Mine’s waterproof.” He took it out of the front pocket of his jeans, struggling with the wet fabric then switched on the lithium light at its back. “There we go. You stay in here. I’ll be back in in a minute.”
I nodded, stiffly.
Jarryd turned and clumped back down the stairs and into the night, his flashlight slicing through the darkness and lighting up shots of water droplets. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on my breathing.