Pretty Ugly (Addicted Hearts Book 2)

by Jane Anthony

  “Really? I’m not.”

  He doesn’t even flinch. “Okay, we’ll skip the niceties then and go right for it.” He shuffles through the papers in an open manila folder. “Since all your father’s assets were seized by the FBI, he didn’t have much. That being said, there are funds left in his commissary account, as well as several plots in the Chase family mausoleum. Two for you and a spouse, and two for your parents.” He pauses, his gaze floating down the rows of tiny-type font on the page in front of him. “As his sole surviving relative, you are responsible for his final remains. Should you choose to neglect your duties as executor, your father’s remains will be cremated and disposed of.”

  “I wanna see him.”

  Jackson’s gaze snaps up from the page and meets mine. “That can be arranged. I will have my secretary call and make an appointment for you to view the body. In the meantime”—he lifts a leather-bound journal I didn’t notice before and rests it at the end of the desk where I’m sitting—“he had instructed me to give you this.”

  “What is this?” I ask, picking up the book and flipping through it, a small blast of air pluming up from the pages.

  “Your father’s journal.”

  I drop the book back on the desk as if he’d just told me it’s riddled with herpes. May as well be. The answers I seek are inside this book. Do I really want to know his thoughts and feelings? Some things are better left unsaid.

  I steal a sticky note from his desk and scribble my number on it before handing him the neon blue square. “Call me when you get that appointment scheduled.”

  He plucks it from my fingers and sticks it on the inside of the manila folder. “Mr. Chase,” he calls after me as I walk away. “Take the book. You’ll be very interested to read what’s inside.”

  Chapter 9

  Kat

  “What are you doing tonight?” I drop into the deep leather seat of a lounge chair and kick off my shoes. This pair of four-inch peep-toe pumps looked like a great idea at nine a.m., but at eight, they’re more like designer torture devices. This is what I get for buying off the rack.

  Lainie runs her fingers through her shoulder-length locks and twists it on top of her head. Curly tendrils fall out around her temples and halo her face like a light pink mane. She had it freshened up earlier this morning, and it looks incredible. The soft color intensifies her blue eyes, or maybe it’s the rings of kohl and silver shadowing her lids.

  She sits in the chair next to me and curls her legs under her. “I don’t know. James said something about dinner when we talked last night, but then I haven’t heard from him all day. I have no effin’ idea.”

  The thought of dating again makes my skin crawl. Finding someone who jives on the same frequency as you is next to impossible. Especially with everything being so damned easy. I mean, think about it for a second. The magic of online dating. There’s a veritable pool of desperate people all looking for the same thing. Love. Sounds simple enough, but it’s not. Everyone seems so quick to jump ship and meet someone else if the person they’re with isn’t one hundred percent perfect, but what people can’t seem to accept is that no one is perfect. Meeting people is the easy part. It’s keeping them that takes work. A good relationship is worth fighting for.

  Wow, when the fuck did I get so wise?

  Lainie’s lips turn down in a pout. I’ve seen her blow through guy after guy, and it’s just not fair. “You’re so much better than the dudes you go out with.”

  “I know.” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “It's just that we got along so well, ya know?”

  “I know, babe. Don’t let it get you down. Your knight in shining armor is out there somewhere.”

  “You keep telling me that, but all I seem to find are turds in tinfoil.”

  A cackle snaps from my chest as a chime dings from the bowels of my purse. “You’re a nut,” I tell her, fishing my phone from my bag. With the swipe of my thumb, I see Chase’s sexy smile light up my screen. Scratch what I said about nobody being perfect. Chase is the exception to that rule. Two years together, and one look at the man still lights my insides up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

  Sorry I didn’t call you earlier, babe. I got to Athena’s house then passed out. I’m so fuckin’ tired. How was your day?

  “That Chase?” Lainie asks, craning her neck to see the screen. “How’d everything go today?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Busy. Did you see the lawyer?

  Yeah. Too much to type over text. I’ll call you in a bit. I just wanted to check in to let you know I was thinking about you.

  “Awwwwwwww!” Lainie gushes. “He’s so sweet, Kat.”

  “I know.” A grin stretches across my face so wide my cheeks hurt. “He’s the best. He puts up with all my shit and still likes me at the end of the day. I’m so lucky.”

  “No, Kat. He’s the lucky one.”

  The jovial twinkle in Lainie’s eyes turns to a full-blown look of lust as the bell over the door steals her attention. I turn in the direction of her heated stare and find Erik standing in the doorway. His LAPD uniform stretches across his broad chest and tapers down to his slim waist. When he removes his hat, I swear I hear Lainie whimper just a little bit.

  A moment of panic registers then fades away. My gut reaction flies to Chase is hurt, but I know that’s not the case. He’s not even in town, for Christ’s sake! That accident gave us both PTSD. I seriously need to chill the fuck out. “Hey! Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I was patrolling the area and thought I’d stop in and see if you wanted to grab a bite.”

  I breathe out a sigh of relief. The thought of going home to my empty house doesn’t exactly thrill me. “Sure.”

  Lainie’s hand wraps around my wrist in a vise grip. I turn toward her, smacking head first into her icy glare. It suddenly occurs to me how bad this looks. My fiancé’s out of town, and this gorgeous hunk of beefcake walks in and asks me out to dinner. I really am a clueless ass. “It’s okay, Lain. This is Erik.”

  “Oooh!” She loosens her grip, her lips curling into a plastic smile. “Nice to finally meet you, Erik. Kat’s told me all about you.”

  “Oh, ouch. That can’t be good, then,” he jokes.

  “Kat, um, we need to go over those invoices in your office quick.”

  I raise a questioning brow and glare at Lainie. She stares back, silently sending me sky-blue daggers of death. “Excuse us, Erik.”

  Lainie bolts past the wide reception desk to my office in the back. “Spill,” she demands before I even have the door closed.

  “Spill what?”

  “Kat.” She presses her palms together, her bangles tinkling as they rattle to her elbows. “All those times you’ve talked about Erik, you never bothered to mention he looked like that!”

  “Like what?” A wry smile tries to break across my lips, but I hold it back.

  Lainie’s face turns twelve shades of red. “That is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. I mean brutally, he’s so fucking delicious, it’s a crime against humanity.”

  “And?”

  “And you’re engaged!” she squeals, her silver-nailed fingertips springing to her mouth. Speaking in a lower octave, she adds, “There’s nothing going on with you two, is there?”

  “Oh my gosh, Lainie, no! Never.”

  Relief falls over her bewildered expression two seconds before her lips curve into a devious grin. “He single?”

  “You’re incorrigible; you know that?” I laugh, reaching for the door handle.

  “Think he takes those cuffs home?” I hear her say as I move back out to the lobby.

  A moment passes before Lainie follows, evidence of her devious thoughts still lingering on her face. “Sorry about that, Erik. Wanna try that new place around the corner?” I ask.

  “Cypress?” Lainie snorts. “You’re going out for Greek? That’s original.”

  I chuck a sarcastic smirk at my friend. “You wanna join us?” Erik offers.

  “No, yo
u two go ahead. I’m gonna head out. Kat, call me later.” The words leave her lips, but her silent message is loud and clear. “It was nice to meet you, Erik.”

  “Likewise,” he says, trying far too hard not to watch as she walks away. Can’t say I blame him. Lainie is beautiful. Striking, really. A struggling model who came out to LA with stars in her eyes and zero skills. She dropped the F-word during her interview, and I hired her on the spot. How could I not? She was so adorably clueless. Two years later, she runs this joint like Rich Uncle Pennybags. You know, the guy on the Monopoly board with the monocle and top hat? Yeah, him. She’s a beauty but shrewd as shit. A diamond in the rough. I honestly don’t think this place would have been nearly this successful without her.

  “Lemme lock up, and we’ll go.” The bell rings a second time as Erik excuses himself out the door. I walk around, turning off the lights and arming the alarm, then join him on the sidewalk.

  “I’ve been at Petaloúda for two years,” I start, walking in the direction of the restaurant alongside Erik. “And you’ve never come in to visit me once.”

  “So?”

  “So what’s really wrong?”

  Erik inhales a sharp breath and blows it out into the balmy night. “Nicole’s getting remarried, and I don’t think I can be alone.”

  His words are a sledgehammer smashing me in the chest. When I met Erik, he and Nicole had already divorced, but he’s told the story so many times in group, I can recite it by heart. Erik was an alcoholic. A two-bottle-a-day vodka habit that cost him everything. His wife threw him out. One night in a drunken rage, he broke into their home, and when he found her with another man, he took out his gun.

  Nothing happened that day, of course, but the tears streaming down his children's faces as he cocked the gun at their mother’s head was enough to make him see the error of his ways. That was his rock-bottom moment. The day his addiction turned him into a monster.

  “I’m glad you came to me.” Taking his hand, I give it a supportive squeeze. I know how hard it is to keep it together when all you want to do is fall apart. How easy it is to look for an escape at the bottom of a bottle. It’s a constant battle between what’s right and what’s easy.

  “I hoped we could work things out, ya know?” Erik falls back against the brick building, the word Cypress stretching across the top in glowing blue letters. “I miss my family, my girls. It’s just so fucking hard to live with myself sometimes.”

  The crack in Erik’s voice matches the one in my heart that breaks for him. “Look, E. Would you rather we got this to go? We can take it back to my house and watch a movie or something.”

  Even in the dim surroundings, I can just make out the pink rings around his hazel eyes. “Yeah. I’d like that.” He offers a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. All that’s there is pain and regret. It flows off him like water rushing through rocks and crashing on the shore. Erik’s done his part in making amends. He’s apologized to his family and admitted his wrongs, but looking at him now, at the downtrodden expression on his handsome face, I can see he’s never made amends with himself. That step is the hardest of them all.

  It isn’t long before we’re stretched out on the floor with a table full of silver takeout containers littering my coffee table. “What’d you say this stuff was called again? It’s incredible.”

  “Pastitsio. You have to try my giagiá’s recipe. Oh, my gawd, it’s so fuckin’ good. Nóstimo.” I kiss the tips of my fingers to drive my point home.

  “The way you talk . . .” Erik leans back on my couch, resting his head on his knuckles. The buttons on his untucked dress shirt are undone, showing off the white tee underneath. I smile at the irony. Once upon a time, I was getting arrested by cops. Now I’m having dinner with one.

  “Ooh, is my Jersey showing?” I answer with a giggle. To this day, Lainie still busts my balls whenever I ask for a cup of coffee because it comes out sounding more like cawfee.

  “Not that. The way you throw in this random piece of ethnicity in everything you say.”

  “Oh.” A warm flush heats my cheeks, and my gaze falls to the floor between us.

  Erik dips his head, trying to latch back onto it as best he can. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I like it. It’s different.”

  “Greek was my first language, ya know. My father was insistent that we all spoke it in the house fluently at all times. My giagiá doesn’t even speak English at all.”

  “Say something else.”

  “No, thank you!” I scramble to my feet and collect the empty dishes to trek to the kitchen.

  “C’mon! Say something else. Teach me to curse in Greek!” He stands next, grabbing what’s left and following me as I leave the room.

  “Must you make fun of me?”

  “I’m not, I promise. Say something else. Please!”

  “Oh, you’re begging me now?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Páre na gleífeis ton kólo enós katsikioú.” I stick my tongue out and turn my back to him, throwing out the empty trays.

  “What did you just say?”

  I peek over my shoulder, trying my best to keep a straight face. “I’ll never tell.”

  “What? You rotten little minx!” A cackle bursts from my chest as Erik digs his fingertips into my side.

  “Okay, okay. Stop!” I bluster through gales of breathless laughter. “I told you to go lick a goat’s ass!” The vision of Erik swims in front of me now, the hysterical tears brimming in my eyes turning him into a navy-blue blob. His roving fingers continue without relent. I double over, the breath hitching in my throat.

  “Thank you for tonight. I needed this.” Erik sobers. The heat falling off his body radiates against mine. It’s not until I’m staring up into the hazel warmth of Erik’s eyes that I realize my back’s pinned against the fridge.

  A weird moment of uneasy silence passes. What am I doing? My fiancé’s away on the other side of the country, and here I am, throwing bad decisions in the air like confetti. Erik shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be standing so close that I feel the edge of his clothing brush my skin or smell the sweet, subtle scent of his day-old cologne.

  “Maybe we should call it a night.”

  “I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

  A cool rush hits my skin as he backs away, but a damp sheen of sweat still sits on my palms. It’s been too long since Chase and I played and laughed. Somehow, everything became so fucking serious. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until right now. “No. It’s okay. It’s just that it’s getting late. Chase is probably going to be calling me soon and—”

  “And he wouldn’t be too happy knowing I’m here.”

  A shrug is my only answer. I don’t want to hurt Erik’s feelings. His friendship is important to me, but my life with Chase is everything. I don’t want to risk what we have, shaky as it may be at the present moment.

  Chapter 10

  Chase

  My gaze wanders around the subway platform as Kat’s phone rings in my ear. The downtrodden faces of the people milling about waiting to take the 7 across town look about as happy as I feel. Holding the phone against my shoulder, I shrug off my jacket, but it doesn’t do much to help me escape from the stale humidity of the tunnel. The damp, oppressive lack of air that stifles my ability to breathe as I board the train.

  Hey, it’s Kat. Don’t bother leaving a message ’cause I’ll never check it . . .

  Grumbling, I hang up and push my phone into my pocket. My gaze shifts to the journal on my lap. You’ll be very interested to read what’s inside. My stomach clenches. All night, that warning festered in my brain, eating away at me like the sickness that ate away at my dad. But it won’t be enough. I need to lay eyes on the bastard one last time. Rid myself of the monkey that lives on my back, taunting me, telling me I’m no good.

  I lift the book and turn it over in my hands before cracking open the cover. Scrawling lines of silvery lead cover the entire first page in a slanted
script. I run my fingers over the handwritten words, feeling the indentation of his pencil etched on the paper. In a few hours, he’ll be nothing but dust, and this will be all that remains. A few scribbles inside an ostentatious book.

  A single word catches my eye. Regret. I stare at the word, trying my best not to read the surrounding lines, but before I know it, I’ve turned the page. It starts off slow. A man sitting in his bunk just before lights out ruminating on his day. I close my eyes and picture it. An old man in orange scrubs, the only thing bright in a sea of gray. Gray walls, gray bars, gray floor, gray life.

  I push away the damp feeling gathering in my eyes, the tightness burning my chest and throat. It’s not worth it. I don’t want to know. I don’t. Yet I continue turning page after page, recounting his days, living them through him.

  A cellmate named Hector.

  Runny eggs in the morning, Salisbury steak for dinner.

  The anguish, the remorse. Praying to God. Admitting he was wrong, repenting his sins, wishing he could change a history that’s already been written. I’m there with him. Every step of the way as if his time is my time.

  I’m there.

  And then I see my name.

  Every so often, the siren wails, alerting us of new arrivals. And every time I hear that obnoxious noise, my eyes snap to the doors, waiting to see TJ shuffling through. It’s not that I want him to be in prison. I would never wish this life on anyone, but seeing him walking through those doors means he’s alive. I don’t know where he is or how he’s doing, but if given a second chance, I’d make things right. Starting by telling him the truth.

  The entry ends just like that. A single mention, the promise of truth. “What’s the truth?” I ask out loud as if the book can answer. I flip the pages of monotonous drivel, furiously scanning for something more. Another piece to the puzzle of my life I didn’t even know was missing until the writing grows faint and the letters all seem to jump about the page. The sections he wrote toward the end.