by Julie Cross
It’s not easy for me to sit there and listen to Eve tell Elana about hooking up with Wes when she was fifteen or how he was nice and helpful and took care of her and then slowly he turned more controlling and angry and abusive. I can’t look at Eve while she’s talking, so I watch Elana’s face. She sits there not moving or speaking. I can tell she’s surprised but also unwilling to admit it.
When Eve’s voice gets shaky as she tells the worst parts, I have to close my eyes and take a slow deep breath to force the images of me strangling Wes from my mind.
“I should have told you sooner,” Eve says, finally reaching the end of her story. “But there were so many things I hadn’t even figured out for myself until recently.”
Elana looks near tears, but she’s shaking her head. “He’s not like that anymore. Maybe he just went through a rough time or something, or maybe it’s different with me.”
“He’s twenty-seven, Elana. You’re fifteen,” Eve points out, keeping her voice gentle and not at all critical.
A tear escapes Elana’s eye and rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly. “In France it’s different. The culture is different. We don’t have the same age stigmas that you have in America.”
Eve nods like she’s trying to be understanding and patient. And I’m literally getting more anxious and impatient by the second.
“I get that it might be different for you, but even with the age thing aside, Wes has a track record of being abusive, and those kinds of behaviors don’t just go away,” I say, trying to get to the point quicker.
“How do I even know you’re telling the truth?” Elana snaps at Eve. “What if you made up that stuff about him just to keep me away, or make it sound worse than it is?”
Eve flinches like Elana just slapped her. I think having someone not believe her story has always been a fear of Eve’s.
I decide it’s time for me to intervene again and take over. “In America, it’s illegal, assuming you’ve slept with him already.”
Eve glares in my direction, her mouth practically hanging open.
“I knew you wouldn’t get it!” More tears fall down Elana’s face, and she stands up like she’s about to run from the room. “It’s not like that and, no, I haven’t slept with him, if that makes you feel better.”
It does a little, actually. “But you’ve gone out with him on a date, right?” I press. “You’ve kissed him?”
Elana turns her entire body to face me and she looks so pissed off. “I’ve kissed you! I’ve gone on dates with you! You and I aren’t the same age.”
“True,” I say, digging for the facts Brad spouted off to me last month. “But technically it’s not illegal for us to be together like that, even if everyone knew you’re only fifteen. There's not more than four years difference between us.”
I give her a second to argue with me and then I continue. “And you knew what you were getting into with me. I made it clear that I didn’t feel that way about you. I made it clear that we were just acting.”
“Exactly,” Elana says. “And Wes isn’t acting. He actually cares about me, as a friend and more.”
“Elana,” Eve says. “Believe me when I say that I understand how you feel and I’m absolutely the last person to judge you—”
I let out a frustrated breath. This isn’t going anywhere. “So he did kiss you?” I ask again. “When you went to see that Broadway show, right?”
“I hate you. You were lying when you said we could be friends.” Elana turns to face me. “Yes. He kissed me, and yes, we went to a show together and you can call that a date and tell whoever you want, because to the world, I’m eighteen and it’s not illegal and there’s nothing either of you can do about that.”
With that, Elana takes off for her bedroom and slams the door.
“What the hell was that, Alex?” Eve hisses at me. “I thought the goal was to help her.”
“Change of plans.” I snatch my phone and keys off the table.
“Are we on different planets right now? How the fuck was that even remotely helpful?”
I glance at my phone, checking to see if I got what I needed. “We weren’t getting anywhere with her. It was obvious she’d just keep defending herself.”
“What the hell is so important on your phone, Alex? God, I thought you were worried about Elana. I never thought talking to her would involve making her hate us.”
“I don’t care if she hates me,” I admit.
“Well, I do!” Eve says, standing up and quickly putting her coat back on. “She might need me, and now she’s going to lump the two of us together. This was a bad idea.”
I look at Eve and then rest a hand on her arm. “You’re going to be really pissed at me in a few minutes, but all I ask is that you let me explain before you take off, okay?”
“You mean more pissed than I already am?”
“I didn’t plan on convincing Elana of anything today,” I say. “I just needed to get her to admit that something is going on with her and Wes.”
Comprehension reaches Eve’s face and she snatches my phone from my hand, looking it over quickly. “You recorded us? I can’t believe you did that? She trusted you. I trusted you!”
I place both hands gently on her arms, hoping she won’t try to run off. “Look, Eve, I’d never, ever give your story and your past to anyone without your permission. That’s not why I did this. I’ll edit out your part. And I don’t care if Elana trusts me or not; she’s fucking fifteen. The last thing she needs is for us to treat her like an adult. She has a crush on Wes, and it’s so serious that nothing we say would ever convince her that he’s bad news. Nothing. And I refuse to watch her learn that for herself. If she were five years older, this would be a completely different story. I don’t care how mature you think Elana is, she has no fucking clue what the hell is best for her. If we really care about her, we’ll use whatever method we have to make sure she’s okay. Even if she never likes us again.”
Eve is shaking her head, not even close to being on the same page as me.
“My sister is Elana’s age. I’d rather she hated me for the rest of her life then let her fall into a relationship where someone is going to hurt her and manipulate her. It sucks, but what choice do we have?”
“Anything but tricking her!”
“Listen—”
“No. Not now.” She slams the phone back into my hand and takes a deep breath. “I can’t do this right now. I have a job that I desperately need to keep, and I’m going to be late.”
Eve takes off, and I don’t stop her because the last thing I want is for her to miss a call time and get fired from a job. As much as I hate to leave Elana alone, the better solution is to get this evidence to Janessa as soon as possible. I head out a couple of minutes after Eve and walk the few blocks to my building. When I’m safely in my room, I upload the recording I made at Elana’s to my laptop and then email it to Janessa, just like she told me to do earlier. An agonizing hour later, a number listed as Unknown pops up on my cell phone, and I pick it up right away, assuming it’s Janessa.
It’s not.
“What the hell are you trying to pull, Alex?” Wes asks, anger seeping into every word.
Does news travel that quickly? Maybe Janessa uploaded the recording on the Internet or something? That doesn’t seem like she’s using the proper channels though.
My heart pounds. Wes is on the phone accusing me of something and I need to respond. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right,” he snaps. “I don’t think you have any idea who you’re dealing with. I could ruin you in minutes. A couple of calls to some close friends is all it would take.”
The words he’s saying aren’t absorbing into my brain. All I can do is listen to the sounds of traffic in the background, as if I know New York City well enough to pinpoint location based on the outside noise. I
don’t. But I know he’s heading somewhere. I’m already on my feet, sliding my gym shoes on halfway before flying down the stairs.
“Forget it,” Wes says. “You’re not the person I really need to talk to right now.”
He hangs up, and the second I step outside into the frigid air with shoes barely on and no coat, it hits me.
Eve.
That’s who he blames. Elana called him and told him everything she said. He probably doesn’t even know about the recording I sent to Janessa.
I’d worried about leaving Elana alone earlier. I may have worried about the wrong girl.
And he has Eve’s schedule on his BlackBerry. He knows exactly where she is.
But what if I’m wrong? It’s best if I make sure someone is with both of them. This all started to help Elana. I can’t let my concern for Eve cause me to forget all about Elana.
While I’m darting around pedestrians and crossing streets with the Don’t Walk sign flashing, I sift through numbers until I find what I’m looking for.
Finley Belton.
“Finley,” I say when she picks up.
“Hey, Alex. What’s up?”
“Where are you right now?”
“In the lobby of my building,” she says. “About to get into the elevator.”
“Great.” I let out a breath, tapping my foot as cars zip by, waiting to cross the street. “I need a favor. Elana—”
“Look, Alex, I like you. You’re cool. But I can’t get in the middle of your girlfriend drama. It’s just not how I roll.”
I groan in frustration. Why is everything so difficult? “This has nothing to do with girlfriends. If Wes Danes shows up there, I need you to call the police.”
“Why?” I hear the skepticism in her voice, and it makes me wonder if I’m heading to the wrong place. Checking on the wrong girl.
“He can’t be around Elana,” I explain. “He’s dangerous and really angry right now.”
But I doubt he’s angry with Elana. That’s why I’m making the right choice.
“Oh no. I’m so not getting involved in some domestic spat. Call the cops yourself.”
“She’s your fucking roommate!” I close my eyes, forcing back the anger. I weave through crowds of pedestrians, all bundled up for January. Despite my lack of coat, I can’t even feel the cold. “Domestic spat is a term you’d use for people who are of legal age. Elana’s not eighteen. She’s fifteen. And let’s just say he’s got a track record for inappropriate relationships with clients much younger than him.”
“Jesus, I didn’t know she was so young, Alex. I swear,” she says, alarm finally ringing through her voice. “He’s been here. They’ve been together here.”
“Did you tell anyone?” I drill.
“No.”
I can’t believe she sat there and watched this happen, that she’s had evidence all along and never said a word. She’s got my number. She could have told me.
It doesn’t matter. Not right now, anyway. “Just do what I asked, okay?”
“Okay,” she says without hesitation.
Now please, please let Eve be okay.
Chapter 52: Eve
January 12, 4:10 p.m.
I can hardly sit still through my hair and makeup session. It’s like my body really wants to run back to Elana’s place and talk to her, but my brain knows I’m supposed to be here and they can’t seem to work together.
My toes have just been stuffed into a pair of heels a half size too small. The skirt I’m wearing is so tight, all the way down to my knees, causing me to walk like a duck as I head from set back to wardrobe. I need to get out of here and figure this shit out. I need to deal with the mess Alex just made. I know he’s not intentionally trying to hurt me, but what the hell was he thinking?
“There’s a guy here to see you,” the wardrobe lady whispers to me before nodding toward a stairwell on the other side of the room.
Alex.
I can’t really afford to be distracted, but maybe he was able to talk to Elana and everything is okay now. Just hearing that would clear my head for the rest of the day.
Quickly, I shuffle across the room as best I can in this wardrobe and open the large brown door leading to the stairs. The door closes behind me just before I take in Wes’s figure.
He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest.
My heart races, and my hand fumbles around behind my back, landing on the doorknob. But Wes is fast. He slides himself beside me, pressing his back against the door.
“What the hell are you doing, Evie?”
The dark storm in his eyes freezes me in place. The low near-whisper of his voice is all too familiar. I swallow hard, looking down at the stairs. Maybe if I’m calm, I can calm him and get the hell away.
Again, my reaction comes too late. Wes grabs my arms and slams my back against the wall behind the door. My breath comes out in quick gasps, and I can’t think clearly.
Get away, Eve. Now.
“I don’t know what kind of shit you’re trying to pull.” He leans closer, his forehead almost hitting mine. “But you’re gonna fix this, Evie. You’re going to undo all the damage you did.”
Does he know about Alex’s recording? Or did he talk to Elana?
The familiar squeeze against my arms triggers a dozen of memories. I close my eyes and get hit with a year’s worth fear and anxiousness. Pain and heartbreak. I try to wish myself anywhere but here, because for the first time ever, Wes might be on his last option for saving his own ass and that’s utterly frightening.
But I’m not fifteen anymore. There’s got to be a way out.
“Are you jealous of Elana?” he says. “Is that why you made up all that shit about me?”
I open my eyes and stare into his. “She’s not even your client, Wes. What are you doing with her?”
“She’ll be my client soon enough. I’m the one who’s helped her career take off, just like I did to yours and Alex’s,” he says. “It’s my word against yours.”
“I didn’t make up anything about you, Wes,” I say, trying to force back the tremble in my voice. My legs are shaking. “I told her the truth. That’s all.”
“Then untell her.” He pulls me forward, toward him, and then slams my back into the wall again.
Adrenaline kicks in, and I wiggle side to side, trying to escape his grip, until I’m finally able to dart to the right. The stairs zoom into focus. I reach for the rail, my foot landing on the first step, when his arm hooks around my waist, the other in my hair, yanking my hair and jerking my neck.
I see his face again, and that crazed look is there. It’s an expression I’ve only seen on Wes a couple of times. He’s lost control. His movements are no longer careful and calculated.
He’s going to push me down the stairs. I’m gonna be lying in a heap at the bottom by the time anyone finds me.
I open my mouth to scream, but he clamps a hand over it. Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out any outside noise. I lift my knee, hoping to nail him in the balls but end up hitting his stomach instead. He loosens his grip and groans, giving me just enough opening to reach for the rail again, making it down two steps this time before he’s pulling me back again, this time with much more force.
Everything moves in slow motion as my feet come out from underneath me and the side of my head slams so hard into the wall, everything goes black for several seconds, pain shooting between my eyes. My back hits the concrete floor with a clank. More pain shoots through my head. Then I look up, vision spotty, as Wes’s brown shoes take two steps closer and he bends over, reaching for me, grasping the borrowed jacket I’m wearing in tight fists.
My head is pounding, my stomach churning, and my vision blurred, but I hear the door flying open and I see large hands grab Wes from behind.
Alex.
Two uniformed bu
ilding security guards race in after him.
I try to stand but end up falling back into the wall and sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor, nauseous and throbbing everywhere.
Stars form in front of my eyes and sound is blocked, but I do catch the look on Alex’s face. An expression of complete and utter rage. Something I never thought I’d see on him.
He’s got Wes off me in half a second. Wes snaps around to see who’s grabbed him. Alex punches Wes square in the jaw, causing him to stumble into the security guards. I watch through the haziness in my head as Alex makes a move to swing at Wes again and then realizes that Wes is already being restrained by the guards.
One of the security guys presses a hand on Alex’s chest, holding him back. “That’s enough.”
The pain between my eyes reaches an all-time high. I press my forehead into the heel of my hands and try to breathe in and out in even intervals.
“Eve?” I hear Alex say. Seconds later, he’s beside me, his arms around me, his face in my hair. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”
I give a tiny nod, and this seems to be enough. I must be okay if I can nod.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t set off Elana earlier, he never would have come here.”
My cheeks are wet, but I don’t remember crying or any tears filling my eyes. I lift my head for a second, my gaze landing right on Wes. His eyes are huge, like he’s just woken up from a bad dream. I can see his muscles visibly relax as he stops fighting the security guards. He’s not stupid.
They’re talking to him, leading him out the door, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. I look over at Alex after they’re gone. “How did you know where I was?”
“I didn’t. Not exactly.” He looks up at the ceiling, pointing to something above the door. “Security cameras.”
I wince and then lean against Alex, my cheek resting on the soft material of his shirt. “My head is killing me.”
His hand gently touches the back of my hair. “What happened to your head? Did you hit it against the wall?” The worry in his voice is undeniable, but I’m too out of it to panic.