by Desiree Holt
“Okay, thanks.”
What the hell?
Shay hung up, pulled up YouTube on her phone, and typed in Joe’s name, her hands shaking. What she saw made her literally ill. She swallowed back the nausea bubbling up in her throat, blinked her eyes, and forced herself to focus again. The video was poor quality, obviously from someone’s cell phone camera, and it was rather dark and fuzzy but there was no mistaking what she saw. Joe Reilly with a woman she’d never seen before, in a bar. It was obvious the woman was drunk and causing a scene, but Joe didn’t look too great himself, especially when he nearly fell into a nearby chair. It was also very apparent she was no stranger to Joe. There was a familiarity about their interactions that made Shay want to throw up.
Another woman was with them, also unknown. Was Joe out with the two of them? She couldn’t make herself tear her eyes away from the hideous video as it unrolled. By the time all of them exited the bar, Joe stumbling at the door with his shirt torn and the woman in his arms, Shay had passed being upset and was high-voltage mad. She watched as Joe buckled the drunken woman into the car, hurried around to the driver’s side, and drove away from the curb, tires screeching. That was where the video ended.
Shay sat for a long moment, wondering if she was going to faint. Joe, with two drunk women in a bar. Joe, nose bleeding. Hitting a woman. His shirt torn. And on the verge of a full-out bar brawl. Joe, stumbling out of the bar to his car. Who the hell had let him drive off, anyway? The way he looked he might kill someone.
Finally she forced herself off the couch and into the kitchen. She drank a glass of cold water standing at the sink, trying to calm her shattered nerves and pull her thoughts together. She was still holding the phone when her ringtone sounded again.
Jilly.
Pulling a calming breath, she answered the call.
“Are you okay?” were Jilly’s first words. “You didn’t call back.”
Was she okay? A hysterical laugh threatened to escape. No, she was far from that but she wasn’t about to let Jilly know.
“I think it’s either a mistake or someone was playing a trick.” Shay was proud of how together she sounded. “I’m going to call Joe right now. If he’s seen it, I’ll bet he’s having a fit.”
“Shay?” Jilly sounded concerned. “Honey, I hate to tell you this but that video’s already gone viral. It’s got over a million hits in just a short time. And the kid who posted it is already tweeting he saw it firsthand.”
Anger began to replace the nausea, chills raced over her body, and her hands shook. How could he do this? To himself? To them? To his career, for God’s sake? He’d done the big romantic night and captured her heart and now this?
“Shay? You still there?”
She swallowed twice before she could speak again. “I’m here. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for this. Joe isn’t like that anymore. He certainly wouldn’t hit a woman. That’s so far from who he is.”
Or was it? Maybe she had just been stupid enough to let herself be fooled.
“Well, if he was caught up in a bad situation, he’d better jump on it right away.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“Let me know if we can do anything, okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Jilly.”
Thanks for ruining her night. Oh wait, Joe had done that.
She disconnected the call and dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Before she rushed too badly to judgment she’d call Joe. Talking to him was the first order of business. Find out exactly what this was about. But the call went directly to voice mail. She waited a few minutes then tried again. Same result.
She glanced at the clock and realized it was now close to midnight. Her anger spun through her, resentment at whatever Joe had done to put him—and them—in this position. Several more attempts to contact him gave her the same results. There was no way she was going to sleep tonight, not with the miserable video out there and a mountain of questions swirling around in her brain. She fixed herself a cup of coffee and carried it into the living room, where the television was still a low hum in the background. She sat down on the couch to keep trying Joe’s phone. And to wait.
Chapter 12
Lisa shoved her hair back from her face and looked up at Joe.
“I gave her ibuprofen and some ice in a baggie for her face.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not a fun night.”
“It was her fault.” A sad expression crept over her face. “She really has no one to blame but herself.”
By the time they’d gotten Gina back to the apartment and up the stairs to the second floor, she’d gone from drunk and shouting to drunk and sobbing and finally to drunk and sick. She’d vomited until Joe was sure not even the lining in her stomach was left. Then he stood her in the shower, fully dressed, turning it gradually from warm to cold until she was aware enough to stand on her own. He left her sputtering and swearing while Lisa helped her into boy short pajamas and into bed.
He took a moment in the bathroom to wash the blood from his face and examine his war wounds. Gina had scratched him in a few places, but his nose didn’t look as bad as he expected. He wiggled it a little and gave thanks it wasn’t broken.
Now he was faced with the wreckage the night caused.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Lisa said. “I never could have managed without you.”
He bit back his wrath. “I understand, but this is the end. I mean really the end. If she gets in trouble again, it’s all in your hands.”
“But—”
“I mean it. I told you the other day. I’ve been bailing her out and helping her for years. Nothing ever seems to take for her and I can’t put myself through this anymore. I have a life of my own to live.”
Which may be in ruins, he thought, if anyone posted that video on YouTube. Which they probably had. The thought of Shay seeing it made him physically ill.
Lisa twisted her hands. “But she has no one. You know what a mess her family is.”
“I can’t make it my problem anymore.” He blew out a breath. “Here’s what I’ll do. Tomorrow I’ll find a good residential rehab facility and she signs herself in for as long as it takes to get her straight. I mean with counseling and everything.”
“And then what? She’ll just go right back to the same old thing.”
“If she stays until they say she’s good to go, joins AA, and gets her shit together, I will send you a check once a month until she gets on her feet. But only for six months. After that she’s on her own. I mean it.” He gave Lisa a tired smile. “You’re a very good friend to her. I hope she appreciates it. I don’t know why you haven’t washed your hands of her before this.”
“She’s like the sister I never had. And when she’s sober, we take care of each other.”
“Well, I wish you good luck.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his money clip, and handed most of what it held to Lisa. “This should help with whatever you need for the next few days. I’ll make the arrangements I told you about and text you the information. But pay attention. I meant what I said. You can’t call me anymore. At all.” He rubbed his scruffy jaw. “I have things going on in my life now, and I can’t let this spill over into them.”
“I understand. I absolutely do.” She sighed. “I’ll have a long talk with Gina in the morning and I’ll watch for your text.” She studied his face. “Listen, do you want some ice for your nose?”
“No, thanks. I think that’s the least of my worries. I’d better get going.”
Back in his car he pulled out his cell, which he’d placed on mute earlier, and swore. Messages and missed calls from Shay. A lot, mostly in the past hour. Why? Same from Scott. At this time of night? What in hell? Texts and missed calls from his producer? From Marge Faraday? What the fuck was going on? Who had a stick up their ass and about what on a Thursday night? He wanted to call Shay, but if Scott was hot after him this time of night, something was wrong.
Swallowing an oath, he punched his agent’s number.
“You asshole,” were the first words out of Scott’s mouth.
“What? Hey, what the fuck? What did I do?”
“You swore to me you’d changed. That you’d cleaned up your playboy act.” Scott’s voice was tight with anger. “That you were the original solid citizen.”
“I am. For five years now.”
“Yeah? Really? Or were you just hiding it well?”
Hiding it? Was he kidding? “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about your drunken disaster at a bar tonight,” Scott snapped, “with an equally drunk woman. No, make that a full-out brawl, both of you with your clothes ripped, you with a bloody nose and some woman with a bruise on her cheek, your hand gripping her torn blouse. The only thing missing were the nude dancers.”
Shit. Damn fucking shit.
“Um, Scott?” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Don’t ‘um Scott’ me, asshole. I’m sending you a link to a video with more than a million hits already. Watch it and call me back. Immediately.”
“But I—”
But the man was gone. In a moment he got the sound of an incoming text and opened it. Hit the web link embedded in it. Watched the video. And nearly passed out. He had no idea which of the many people with cell phones had uploaded this but they’d caught every miserable moment of it, including his near fall going out the door. And if he knew human nature, this wouldn’t be the only one. Of course it looked like they were both drunk as skunks and could barely navigate.
Joe gritted his teeth and restrained himself from tossing the phone out the car window. More than almost anything he wanted to find whoever posted the video on YouTube and wring their neck but there were more important things for him to do. Like massive damage control. Reaching for some measure of sanity, he called Scott back.
“I can explain,” he began.
“You damn well fucking better,” the agent snapped. “Hitting a woman? Ripping her clothes? Getting a bloody nose? After everything we’ve done to clean up your act, after all the time I’ve spent—”
“Will you just take a breath and listen to me?” Joe interrupted. “I know what it looks like but it was…something else.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Joe did, in great and awful detail, going all the way back to Granite Falls High School. When he finished there was nothing but silence humming across the connection.
“So,” Scott said at last. “Let me get this straight. This girl took your virginity when you were in high school so you have a soft spot for her. She shows up a few years ago and you bang her for one night. Then she shows up a couple more times and you discover she’s got a problem with alcohol. Am I right so far?”
“Yes.” Joe rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the pounding pain. Even to his own ears it sounded incredibly stupid. What the fuck had he been thinking about, not just tonight but all this time?
“So you help her because you say she’s got no one else. But fucking shit, man, for seven years? That doesn’t make you a saint, it makes you a fucking idiot. You have no other relationship with her, you’ve moved on to other things in your life, she needs to be someone else’s responsibility.”
“Listen to me. She’s had a really tough life. Her family—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about her family. You’re the one who concerns me. So, tonight when her friend called, you jumped in your car and risked everything you’ve worked for, not to mention your new relationship with Shay, for a female who can’t stay sober? Did I get that right?”
Joe squirmed in his seat. The man was right. Dragging it out for as long as he had was completely irrational.
“She’s had a tough life,” he repeated.
“Yeah? I’ve got a tough life with the mess you made of it now. You gonna take care of me?”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, asshole. I’ve had Marge Faraday screaming in my ear all evening. Fox Sports wants to break your contract. Your Coaches Conference is on hold as well as your endorsements. I’ve got your sponsors screaming for your blood. I guess the whole world plays on YouTube.”
Shit, shit, shit.
Joe pounded his fist on the steering wheel. What a gigantic clusterfuck. All his own fault. He should have cut Gina loose long ago. Was he just pandering to his own ego, playing the patron saint? Any personal connection that existed long ago had disappeared.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to put me to sleep and when I wake up none of this will have happened. Since that’s not possible, I have no choice but to fly out to San Antonio and see how we can clean up this mess. Go home and stay there. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t answer your phone for anyone but me. Can you manage that, hotshot?”
“Yes.” Did he even have a choice? “Well, I hope so.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, uh, I mean—” Jesus! Why was he stammering like this? “I need to get home and talk to Shay.”
“Damn straight you do.” Scott’s voice was so loud Joe was sure he could hear it without the phone. “Wait until Hank finds out.”
Joe cared more about Shay’s reaction than Hank’s, but he wasn’t looking forward to either conversation.
Scott pitched his voice lower. “You’d better not screw her over, or there’ll be even more trouble.”
“Damn it, Scott.” Joe raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been behaving myself since our come-to-Jesus meeting five years ago. And Shay is the very last person I would screw over.”
“Then you’d better hope when you get home she doesn’t throw your ass out in the cold. Or roast your balls. Or both.”
Then he was gone.
Joe stared at his phone. Yeah, he’d better hope that. And pray.
* * * *
Shay hadn’t bothered to turn on the light in the living room. After crying for nearly an hour her eyes were too light sensitive so she’d curled up on the couch in the dark. As the minutes passed so did her pain, replaced by overwhelming anger. So Joe got into a bar fight? And punched a woman? What the hell? When she saw him he’d be lucky if she didn’t punch him herself.
She was still sitting there in the dark when headlights swept through the window, illuminating the room, and she heard the sound of Joe’s car engine in the driveway followed by the slam of the car door. Next came the scrape of his key in the front lock, the door opened and there he was. He stood there for a moment, silhouetted by the light from the street, obviously unaware of her presence. After a moment he closed the door, wandered into the living room, and dropped into the big easy chair. He looked so defeated, for a very brief moment she almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Hitching herself up, she snapped on the lamp on the end table and blinked at the sudden intrusion of light. Joe lifted his head and stared at her, the expression on his face a mixture of dread and embarrassment and a few things she couldn’t name. Not to mention the disaster that was his nose and the tear in his shirt. After seeing the video she wasn’t surprised by his appearance.
“Before you say a word,” she told him, “I want you to move out. Tonight. Now.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “Can I just ask you to listen to me for a minute? There’s been a big misunderstanding here.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “there has. And apparently I’m the one who misunderstood.” She rose from the couch, proud of the fact that she had pulled herself together. She would not let him see what this had done to her. “I texted Hank to tell him about this. Of course I had to put emergency in the subject line to get him to respond but he did call. He agrees you going to a hotel would be best.”
He pushed himself out of the chair and she tried to ignore the look of abject misery on his face.
“I have to talk to you. There’s so much you don’t unde
rstand. Give me ten minutes. Five minutes.” There was no mistaking the desperation in his voice. “Anything. Just let me explain to you.”
“I got all the explaining I needed on YouTube.” She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Nice video, by the way. From the number of hits it has already you’re a big star again. Congratulations.”
He reached for her arm, but she backed away from him.
“Hit me.” His voice sounded like rusty nails on gravel. “Kick me. Do whatever. It’s nothing I haven’t been doing to myself. But just give me a chance to tell you what really happened.”
“What really happened?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I saw it all in living color. If there was something wrong, you could have told me before you raced out of here like the world was ending. I thought we had something good here. Something real. That we could tell each other anything. Apparently I was the only one on that side of the equation.”
She turned and headed out of the living room. She had to get away from him.
“Wait. Please. I’m begging you.”
She stopped. “I waited for hours. I’m done waiting. I believed you, Joe. I gave you my heart and you just trashed it. But I won’t let you trash my pride. We have nothing else to say to each other.”
She was proud she made it to her room without faltering. But once inside, with the door closed, she collapsed on the bed, fresh tears running down her cheeks, only this time they were tears of anger. How dare he do this just when things were going so right for them? Damn him anyway.
Burying her face in a pillow, she did her best to ignore the knock on the door.
“Shay? Open the door and let me talk to you.”
“Go away,” she shouted. “And don’t come back.”
“Not until I have a chance to explain to you.”
“I don’t want to hear it. It’s just more lies, anyway.” She thought about pulling the pillow over her head to shut out the sound of his voice but she didn’t have the energy.
“No, it’s not,” he called through the door. “I should have told you about this situation before. I know I screwed up and I’m sorry. I was just waiting for the right time.”