Play Fling

by Amber Scott

  Something told her to try anyway. The box was probably what she’d tripped over in the first place. She had to know, was it for her? Had Nancy or Millie left or dropped it? Could it be from Elliott? Maybe not a goodbye at all. Maybe another romantic gesture. Her heart leapt. Yes, it had to be from him. He loved her and just couldn’t wait. He had to give her…the silver box from the yard sale? Except, if he’d come to her apartment and left this for her, without so much as a knock, if it was the silver box inside….

  Before finishing the dread-filled thought, she began scooting, ankle raised, biting against the pain. If she could get to it, she could certainly get back to her front door. The pain dulled behind the zinging heat of the alcohol. Or was her curiosity simply drowning it out? Didn’t matter. One more scoot and she’d be able to reach out and pick it up.

  Holding her breath, carefully stretching outward, Brooke touched the box’s corner and rocked it closer. It tumbled toward her. She let out her breath and snatched it up. It was heavy. Her anticipation notched upward as she set aside the soft satin ribbon, then tore into the paper. She opened the cardboard lid, ignoring the flash of headlights and hum of a passing car.

  Tissue paper pulled out, she felt the metal before she saw it. She was right! The silver box lay nestled inside. She’d suspected he’d bought it for her. Suspected? Why had it felt like panic? The span of hours since seemed like days now. Technically, Elliott hadn’t actually bought it. He’d been given it. The gesture flooded her heart with longing. She was deeply touched. Her craving to see him, to feel him, consumed her. Elliott. She had to see him as soon as physically possible. Her being literally ached for him.

  This gift was more than a gesture. It was more than a man wooing a woman. It was a sign.

  Woozy but determined, she replaced the box into the tissue, balanced the package atop her purse and maneuvered herself to the door. Scooting backwards, her purse slung around her neck, helped. The chill ground numbed her butt. Her fingertips pinched in protest. The grit of dirt made parts of her cringe but she wouldn’t feel sorry for herself a minute longer. She would get inside and find a way to get to him. Tonight.

  She fumbled her key to the lock. In her reach, her purse angled at the ground, the remaining contents spilling out. She thought only of the box, and rescued it from clattering to the concrete. A small envelope fell out.

  Brooke’s eyes locked to the ivory paper, bright amid the shadows and lamplight. Her stomach slipped. He had put a letter inside? That couldn’t be good. No knock, a package, now a letter? Lock forgotten, she picked up the envelope, rubbing her fingers over the textured surface. She’d misunderstood his last note. She didn’t want to do the same now.

  But this was different. This note was hidden, inside a gift left under cover of night, anonymously. When had he imagined she would find it? Tomorrow? Brooke swallowed. Her head swam. She edged the seal open, terrified and hopeful all at once.

  Let it be a love note. Not a goodbye. Let him be too scared to speak his heart, but too overwhelmed to contain it. Let this be what she hoped: love requited, declared, begged for. Good news or bad, the details and possibilities were gut-wrenchingly romantic, all the same. Her hands shook and her head spun. She’d drunk too much wine. It was getting to her. Emotional overload from Nancy and Elliott and Millie. She didn’t feel like herself.

  She felt desperate and elated all at once.

  On a deep breath, she wiped her cold nose and read the typed words:

  Brooke,

  I’m not sure when you’ll find this. Hopefully, it won’t get snowed or rained on. Or worse, sit there for days on end. When you do find it, I hope you won’t think I’m too much of a coward. I’m sure it looks cowardly. Feels a little, too. But, hours upon hours of trying to figure out what to do, this is the best I came up with.

  You want to keep things simple. I understand. I respect your wishes, even though they aren’t in synch with my own. But, I can’t keep this from you, Brooke. It’s not simple and I’m probably setting off a bomb and leaving you in the shrapnel. In the end, I hope you’ll see I’m merely attempting to be both honest with you and respectful of what is really none of my business.

  That said, or typed, in this case (I couldn’t risk you misreading my words again), I won’t hold back. Millie is not the kind of person you think she is and not the kind of friend you deserve. As I write this, I hear how judgmental and arrogant I sound. I can imagine you now, reading them, scrunching up your face like you do when you’re offended. I’m sorry for that.

  But, what I wrote is true.

  Fifteen minutes after you left today, Mille arrived at my house, demanding I stop seeing you. At first, I thought she was simply being overprotective. I know I’d be nervous if my best friend were interested in someone with an age gap like ours. When I told Millie it was none of her business, that what happened with us was between us, she threatened me. Not physically, so don’t laugh. She told me she would not only tell Shope about us, but she would also have Michelle lie to him. Basically, she threatened to get me fired and in the process, ruin my future and my reputation.

  First, let me assure you, in no way have I had any sort of romantic association with Michelle Shope. The closest thing to romance between her and mewas a night of drinks at a bar, the day I met you, and I had my mind on you the entire time. Nothing happened that night between Michelle and me, unless you can count my unintentionally leading her on. No flirtation, no goodnight kiss. Not then, not ever. I need you to know that in case Millie plans to lie to you as well to keep us apart.

  Secondly, you matter more to me than a job. If she follows through on her threats, so be it. I will have to rely on my reputation, my integrity and the sound judgment of my peers to see me through.

  Forgive me for thinking it, Brooke, but part of me is nervous. I can’t think of why your friend would take it upon herself to threaten me in order to protect you. I also find myself wondering if you knew or are somehow a part of this. I feel sick even entertaining the idea. That’s just not you. I know you. I see who you really are. Your heart and hopes and dreams. What I don’t know is what to do here. I’m outside of familiar territory.

  I’ve never felt like this before.

  I’ve never come between two friends, either. I imagine Millie must be like a sister to you and I can’t say how badly I’d be hurt if Gordon or one of my brothers pulled something similar. I don’t particularly want to. So, I’m hoping you’ll appreciate my honesty and if you need me, know that I’m here for you.

  But, if for some reason, I never see you again, I wanted you to have the box. I had hoped one day to become close enough with you that I’d know what you would hide inside of it, but I have vowed not to push you.

  Sincerely,

  Elliott

  P.S. In case you don’t, I have an idea of what you can keep in this box. But to find out what it is, you’ll have to call me.

  Brooke read the letter again, scanning and pausing, her head abuzz. How could he accuse Millie of such a thing? It was impossible. And, frankly, all too much. Millie hadn’t even known what Elliott meant to her until tonight.

  Why would Elliott make up such an ugly lie? What was he trying to do to her? No, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t mad at him. Elliott’s words were tentative, kind. What he told her hurt. And deep down, what he claimed suddenly didn’t feel so impossible.

  She didn’t want to believe it. Even in the fog enveloping her brain, his words rang true. Elliott was no liar. Which could only mean Millie knew about her relationship with Elliott before today. How? Brooke had mentioned him only once or twice prior to tonight. Sure, there were fireworks between them at Thanksgiving, but Millie’d said little about any of it.

  Millie was the liar. Millie had betrayed her.

  But why? How did Millie know about Elliott to begin with, let alone care enough to blackmail him? Short of following Brooke, spying on her, she shouldn’t have a clue. Her brain struggled with the details.

  She’d told Milli
e about the books over dinner at Ramone’s. Elliott was there at Thanksgiving, and when Millie spilled that latte at the Book Exchange. Brooke’s ankle ached. Millie’s age comments. Millie suspected about Gordon being gay. Millie showing up at Elliott’s house today? When? Before or after Brooke had called her? Why go to such lengths? It all felt like a bad movie she needed to get out of.

  Why …how could Millie do this? She needed to get into her apartment. She fumbled her keys to the lock again and got them in. She paused, the effort taxing her.

  Why wouldn’t Millie want Elliott and her to be together? Why not simply warn Brooke instead? Brooke inhaled sharply. What if Millie had discovered something damaging about Elliott? What if Elliott had something to hide? What if his association with Michelle wasn’t what he’d claimed at all? A fake.

  But, Brooke needed Elliott to be real! She needed him in ways she couldn’t put into words. She needed to trust him, to trust herself. A panic gripped her, making it hard to breathe. The note trembled in her hand, the pages making crisp papery sounds in the night air.

  Her head ached. Somewhere nearby, a car parked. What would she do now? What if she was wrong about Elliott? What if he was right about Millie? What if Millie wanted Elliott for herself? What if Millie was somehow obsessed with her?

  Brooke had been so wrong about Jason. All those years, she hadn’t seen him for who he really was, or herself for who she really was. How could she trust anything now?

  Maybe she couldn’t.

  Tears escaped her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. The smell of the dirt and the concrete pressed through the cold. One thought penetrated her confusion: She had to find Elliott. She needed his arms around her, his mouth on her.

  How she’d get to him, she didn’t know. Somehow.

  Her keys hung from the lock and as she reached to turn them, she felt how drunk she was. Her arms moved in with jerking motions, like they couldn’t get to where she needed them fast enough. Fuzzy heat washed through her. No way could she drive like this. She would call a cab!

  Her vision wobbled. How did Millie know about Elliott? The doorknob gave in her hand, the door opened. What else did she—?

  “Hurry, AJ, she looks worse than I thought.”

  Recognizing Millie voice, Brooke peered up as her body sagged through the doorway.

  “Oh Brooke, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Suddenly Millie appeared, kneeling. Trying to help? “AJ! Please hurry!”

  Footsteps hammered down the concrete walk. Brooke tried to focus, tried to find AJ’s form in the darkness, but her vision grew blacker. Millie’s arms encircled Brooke, yet her voice drew farther away. What was happening to her?

  “Millie.” Brooke’s mouth was sticky. She didn’t know who to trust. It hurt to speak. But she had to. “Don’t leave. Get Elliott. I need—.”

  Before she could hear an answer, the murky blackness swallowed her up.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “What do I do?” Millie demanded from the backseat of the sedan, Brooke’s head cradled in her lap.

  “You have to calm down, Millie,” AJ said, veering the car out of Brooke’s complex. “You’re no use to her, or to me, if you let yourself spin into a panic.”

  Millie bit down, but nodded. AJ was right. Of course he was right. She just needed him to keep talking. Keep talking because she was at the edge of something. Terror, maybe. “I thought you said the wine would be like a nudge!”

  How could she have done this to Brooke?

  “It should have been. I only infused my typical levels. How much did you give her?” AJ asked, his voice even.

  “Two glasses. Why? Was there a limit?” Her voice was shrill.

  AJ sighed, clearly exasperated. “Maybe. Or, perhaps she didn’t need a nudge at all.”

  Millie winced. She was a selfish, self-absorbed cow. She didn’t deserve Brooke’s friendship. She didn’t deserve to keep AJ. This was why she’d been sentenced to matchmaking hell for all eternity. All she’d ever done in her life was hurt others in effort to try to protect them. Kiki had had good reasons, too. But now, as Millie, she should know better.

  Brooke looked deceptively peaceful considering the chaos Millie had made of her life. Being passed out on attraction-laden, hormone-infused wine certainly didn’t hurt. But when Brooke woke, Millie fully anticipated an ugly confrontation.

  It hadn’t taken Millie long to pry the letter from Brooke’s hands or to read it. Elliott had thrown Millie under the bus. Well, she’d thrown herself there. So long as she didn’t yet have to face her friend’s reaction, Millie could keep the hideous betrayal at bay.

  “Millie! Snap out of it!” AJ snapped his fingers from the front seat.

  He was right. She shook herself and focused. They’d gotten Brooke to the car in record time. Now what? “Tell me what to do.”

  “Where is Elliott?” AJ said. His voice was hard and even. In control. Thank God.

  “I told you, I don’t know.” Elliott hadn’t been home, the first place she’d gone before going back for AJ. If she hadn’t listened to her gut about getting to Brooke…she wouldn’t let herself consider what might have happened. “Should we go to an ER? Should we pull over and call 911?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I prepared for this. I’m going to an ER now, but only Elliott can truly help her. How do we find Elliott?”

  AJ predicted she’d screw up again? How could she take that the wrong way? Yes, this was all her fault. Too much dose, too little clarity, to see what was really happening right there in front of her. Brooke falling in love.

  “We need to find him, Millie! She isn’t reacting well and an untreated surge like this could cause complications.”

  His urgency unglued her stuck thoughts and realigned her attention. She had to fix this. She bent and grabbed for Brooke’s purse. “What kind of complications?”

  “I can’t be certain. It’s brain chemistry.”

  “So, what. A stroke? A coma?” Millie demanded, rifling in the leather bag.

  “If we locate Elliott, it won’t matter.”

  “Gordon!” Millie said. Calling Elliott’s cousin was a desperate last straw, but it was something. “If I can locate Gordon, maybe I can get to Elliott.” She dug deeper through the bag. Call Jason. He would get her to Gordon, wouldn’t he? “Now, where the hell is Brooke’s phone?”

  “Here,” AJ said, handing back Brooke’s cell. Dropping the purse, Millie scrolled through the cell phone’s phonebook. Jason’s name appeared. She hit dial. She prayed.

  “Hello?” Jason answered.

  “Jason?” Thank God and Jesus and everyone else. “It’s Millie. I have an emergency.”

  “What is it? What happened? Is Brooke okay?”

  She didn’t know what to tell him, but the truth didn’t seem wise. “I can’t explain right now, but I need Gordon’s phone number.”

  “Gordon? What for?” He paused. Suspicion rang in his voice. “I think I should talk to Brooke. My mom was by there earlier. I need to know she’s alright.”

  AJ sent Millie a five alarm warning look in the rearview mirror. “Um, she can’t talk.”

  “What do you mean she can’t talk?” Jason’s tone nearly matched AJ’s expression.

  Millie saw red. “Look, she sprained her ankle and fainted and I’m taking her to the ER and I need Gordon’s phone number! Now!” She might have to kill Jason Munkle.

  The small silence that followed cheese-grated her already shredded nerves. “Jason, if you don’t give me his number, so help me—.” Well, she didn’t know what. Take his dirty little secret and make sure every last person in the next three counties knew it? “Brooke is passed out, in pain and I need to get her to Elliott Jovovich. You know, your boyfriend’s cousin? She’s in love with him and they’ve been having a torrid affair and—”

  “Alright, alright! I get it.”

  “Then give me Gordon’s num—.”

  “I’m trying to,” he shouted back.

 
Millie realized she’d been near screaming. Worse, AJ was looking more pissed, not less. Oh, Brooke, please just survive this and hate me forever. Brooke didn’t stir.

  Three seconds after Jason spit the digits out, Millie dialed. Gordon answered right away, thick-voiced like he’d been crying. Great.

  “Gordon, this is Millie, Brooke’s friend? I need to get a hold of Elliott as soon as possible. Please tell me you know where I can find him.” If this didn’t work, she’d be going to the hospital. The mental ward.

  “I’m here with him.” Was that a sniffle? She didn’t want to know. She had enough on her plate and any more heartbreak would send her over the edge she still felt all too close to. “At the hospital,” Gordon said quietly.

  The hospital? How in the world could she get so lucky? Maybe AJ was right. Maybe all her mistakes weren’t mistakes at all. “Which hospital?”

  “Washoe Medical Center.”

  “Listen, I can’t explain and I realize you hardly know me but, can you keep Elliott there? I’m bringing Brooke to him as we speak. She has to see him and...” she paused. The cliché stuck in her throat, a lump of painful guilt. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

  “Brooke can see him. He isn’t going anywhere, trust me. But I guarantee if he sees you, I won’t be responsible for what happens. Neither will he.”

  Ten minutes later, AJ pulled a sharp right, sending Millie into the car door armrest and Brooke almost off of her lap.

  “Who taught you how to drive?” she demanded.

  “You did.”

  She ignored his smart ass reply and focused on getting Brooke back into a safe position. She’d managed the center seat belt around her, but Brooke kept shifting on her own, thanks to AJ’s antics.

  “Not another love song,” Brooke said, eyes still closed.

  “Is she waking up?” Millie asked, eyes riveted on Brooke. “I mean, can she wake up? What happens if she wakes up?”

  If Brooke woke up now, who knew what would happen. Flying accusations? Some speed racer fast talking?