by Penny Wylder
I blink a couple times, looking up. My boss John is outside the window. I look around, and I come back to myself with sudden clarity. I was being chased, and that asshole in the Escalade didn’t have time to stop. He crashed into me. In fact, he crashed into me so hard that I was pushed into my boss’s car and shattered the front window of our office. Are you kidding me?
Blood rushes to my face in both anger and embarrassment. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine.”
I try to get out of the car, but my door is jammed shut and I have to force it open. The minute I step out of the car there are more pictures being taken. John grabs my arm and keeps me stable. “I’m really sorry,” I say to him. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
I can see all the cars of the paparazzi that caught up with us, and the ambulance is pulling into the parking lot now. The guy in the Escalade is nowhere to be seen. Probably ran off without a scratch. There’s a cop car pulling in with an ambulance and it feels like there’s a whirlwind of activity around me. The paramedics check me out, apply butterfly bandages to some cuts I got from the broken glass. The cops keep the photographers away, but they’re still taking pictures, and everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay.
After what feels like the millionth time being asked, I snap. “Yes!” I bark at the cop standing in front of me. “I am fine. The paramedics have said I am fine. Maybe instead of asking me if I’m okay you can try to find the assholes who were chasing me?”
Behind the cop I see some of the photographers head for their cars, obviously unwilling to be around if the police start asking questions. Other than my car mangling the glass of my office though, they don’t have any tangible proof. I’m hoping that maybe they can catch this guy on some traffic cameras. The cops don’t seem happy that I’m telling them what to do, but they do start talking to some of the people that are still here. I just hope they have some answers.
They do what they can, and the paramedics mother me longer than I want them to. All of this is observed by a rotating cast of my coworkers who come outside to see the damage. A tow truck shows up and someone has the thought to retrieve my stuff before they take my car away. I don’t try to stop them—I can already tell that the car will be totaled. The entire front is crushed from smashing into my boss’s car, and the back is crushed from the Escalade. Looking at the way the car is sandwiched, it’s amazing that I walked away with only a few cuts.
John’s car is towed away too—I think his might be salvageable. He’s been watching all of this happen with a lack of expression that’s unnerving.
It’s a couple hours until everyone is gone. The cops make the paparazzi leave, and for the first time in hours it feels like I can actually take a breath. Then the cops are gone and I’m left standing in a parking lot full of shattered glass. John comes over to me, his arms crossed. He…doesn’t look pleased.
“I’m sorry about all of this.”
He nods, looking out behind me. He lets out a big sigh before he starts to speak. “I think I’m all caught up on what’s happened. Sharon showed me the articles.”
I blush, for the first time feeling actually embarrassed by what happened. I don’t know what there is to say about it.
“You’re a great lawyer, Dani. We love having you here. But you know that confidentiality is one of the only things that makes our clients feel safe. We can’t make them feel safe if there’s paparazzi taking pictures through the windows.”
I shake my head. “This will blow over, John. I’m the story of the day. Nothing more.”
“You don’t know that. This will drag on for as long as they can make it. They want to sell papers, and you know as well as I do that stories like this sell.”
There’s a dread pooling in the bottom of my stomach. “What are you saying?”
He sighs again. “I don’t like doing this, but I think I have to let you go.”
“What?” He can’t be serious.
“I can’t sacrifice our clients’ safety because you had a one-night stand on your vacation. What if one of those photographers catches a client in the background and it gets published? What happens then?”
“I can take a leave of absence,” I say. “I can stay away until we know for sure that it’s over.”
John gives me a sad smile. “We’ll never know if it’s over. They could pop up at any time, drag you into it every time there’s a story about Coldwater. And there’s always stories about Coldwater.” I feel sick to my stomach. This isn’t happening. I take a few steps away from John, trying to catch my breath. He follows me, continuing. “I’ll give you two months pay, and we’ll have someone ship you copies of your files.”
“And that’s it?” I ask him. “You just want me to disappear?”
He doesn’t respond but the look on his face tells me that the answer is yes.
“What about my clients? We’re overloaded as it is.”
“We’ll take care of them,” John says. “I’ve had someone call you a cab. It’ll be here soon.”
I feel my mouth drop open. I’ve worked at the clinic for almost three years, and that John—that everyone—would be fine with this is painful. “I’m sorry,” he says, but it’s an afterthought.
“Yeah.”
“Let me know where you end up, okay?”
“Sure.” I don’t meet his eyes. I can’t. If I do, I’ll probably start to cry. John seems to sense that, and he walks away, leaving me alone with my briefcase. Anger bubbles up in me. At John, and the paparazzi, even at Nolan. I know that this isn’t his fault. It’s not. But it still happened because of the photo of us. Why did he have to be so goddamn charming? Why did he have to make me feel like I was the center of the world? Why didn’t he just save me from Gerard and go on his merry way? I still would have had an enjoyable trip and I’d be settled at my desk right now starting the day’s work.
The cab pulls up, and I get in. I’m about to give them my home address, but stop. I don’t know what’s waiting for me there. What if all the paparazzi left my office and went back to my house? The last thing I want is to show up and be hounded by them again. Instead, I give the driver Kelly’s address. It’s the only place I can think of that might make me feel safe.
8
Dani
Luck is not on my side when I get to Kelly’s house. I know when I hear footsteps that are distinctly not Kelly’s coming towards the door. Great. Jacob is home. Why Jacob is home in the middle of the day I have no idea, but he’s here, he’s opened the door, and from the look on his face he’s pissed.
“I should have known you would come here,” he says. “You bring the paparazzi to my house? Because if you did you can turn around and leave.”
Straightening my spine, I say, “No, I didn’t, Jacob. And considering that you weren’t the one that could have been killed by them today, I thought you might have at least a little sympathy.”
He scoffs, “It’s your own damn fault.”
I just barely keep myself from rolling my eyes, and I’m about to give him another comeback when Kelly appears behind him. “That’s enough,” she says softly, moving Jacob out of the way. “Come in. Of course you can stay as long as you need.”
Jacob is practically seething, and I can feel the anger rolling off him in waves as I pass him and go into the house.
Kelly’s voice is a whisper, “Did you bring anything with you?”
“No,” I shake my head, “I didn’t think it was a good idea to go back to my house.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you upstairs in the guest room in a couple of minutes.”
I head up the staircase immediately, not wanting to hear what Jacob is going to say after I leave the room. Whatever it is it’s not going to be flattering in any sense of the word. I toss my briefcase on a chair in the guest room, kick off my shoes and flop onto the bed. I’ve only been awake for like five hours and I already think I could sleep for another eight. I hear Kelly and Jacob’s voices downstairs. He doesn’t sound happy, but then it’s a rare occasion whe
n he actually does.
The front door closes a bit too hard and with that, Jacob’s out of the house. Kelly comes into the room a few minutes later.
“I’m guessing more pictures of me are on the internet,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“How bad is it?”
She sits on the bed, shifting to the center and sitting cross legged the way we used to do as kids. “Pictures of you at the house. They know all about who you are now. Only a couple of photos of you after the accident. I don’t think any of them wants to report that the accident was caused by a reporter.”
“Reporter is a loose term,” I say, sitting up and scooting back against the headboard. “This isn’t exactly how I had planned my day.”
“Yeah,” she says. “So did they send you home because of the accident?”
I shake my head. “John fired me.”
“What?”
“Yeah. You could say that this really hasn’t been my morning.”
Kelly runs a hand through her hair. “Shit, Dani, I’m really sorry.”
I laugh, though nothing really seems funny. “It’s not your fault.”
We sit in silence for a while, and I can feel my body lowering itself into sleep. “I think I need to sleep,” I say. “Take the edge off.”
“Okay.”
“Can I borrow some clothes when I wake up?”
Kelly grins at me from the doorway. “You really have to ask? Take whatever you need.”
“Thanks, sis.”
She shuts the door softly behind her. I thought I’d fall asleep right away, but I don’t. My mind is swirling with the car chase and John and Nolan and everything. It all seems to catch up with me at once and it’s too much. It’s all too much. I’m crying before I even realize what’s happening, and I’m asleep not long after that.
When I wake up, it feels like I’m coming out of a coma. My body is stiff and I don’t think that I even moved while I was passed out. The very definition of a crash. I hear the clinking of dishes downstairs and the voices of both Kelly and Jacob. He sounds less pissed than before, but that’s sure to change if he sees me.
Looking around, I see that Kelly has left a glass of water and some aspirin on the nightstand, and a pair of fluffy pajamas on the chair. It makes me smile because it’s so very Kelly. Of the two of us she’s always been the one to take care of people. I was the trouble-maker. Looks like I still am.
I turn on the bedside lamp and take the aspirin. My stomach growls as it realizes it hasn’t eaten in…a long time. I find my phone and check the time. It’s later than I thought it was. I could go downstairs and ask Kelly what they had for dinner, but I’d rather hide in here. I don’t want Jacob’s judgment or the small talk that Kelly and I resort to when he’s around. No, I’ll sneak down to the kitchen later after they’re asleep and find something to eat. I down the rest of the water so there’s at least something in my stomach.
I change into the pajamas that Kelly laid out, stretching as I go. I find it amazing that I’m still as tired as I am, but then again I don’t get fired and have high-speed car chases every day. My yoga mat is at home but I take the time to do some simple stretches. I always feel more centered after I practice and I should make a point to be more consistent. Things have been so busy at work that I’m letting myself slip. I guess I’ll have all the time I need to focus on that now.
The blow to the gut hits me again. I don’t have a job.
Most people don’t like their jobs, but I loved mine. My mind can’t even comprehend the fact that I lost it, let alone think about the fact that I’ll need to find another one. I pull myself out of downward dog, and start to fold my clothes, only to find something hard in the pocket of my pants. Fishing around, I find the poker chip. I had completely forgotten that I had put it in my pocket this morning. I don’t even really know why I did it, maybe because I was still so enamored of the fantasies I had—of the memories—that I didn’t want to be without it.
I’m having the strangest feeling—a combination of anger and longing. Everything that happened today happened because I met Nolan, and even though I’m pissed as hell about that, I still wish he were here. Whether I want him to just hold me or to fuck me senseless again, I’m not sure. I could talk to him. He left me his number so I could. I flip the chip and it lands with his number facing up. I flip it again to the same result. The part of me that’s longing wants to talk to him. I don’t know what good that would do, though. The damage is already done.
Tears unexpectedly flood my eyes again as the weight of everything hits me. I lost my job. I could have died. Anger comes quickly. One stupid night and I’ll be paying for it forever. How could this have happened? Furiously swiping at the unwelcome tears, I grab my phone off the nightstand and put in his number. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let him hear me cry, so I send him a text.
Does every girl you sleep with have their life ruined or is that just me?
I don’t know why I expect an immediate response, but I realize I do. I shouldn’t—it’s late and who knows what someone like him is doing right now. For all I know he could be in another Vegas hotel room having another sexy experience without the slightest consequence. I watch the screen hoping to see those little bubbles that show he’s typing, but they don’t come. Embarrassed by my own disappointment, I toss my phone across the bed. No matter how great a night it was, Dani, he’s not going to be at your beck and call. He has his own life. I rest my head against the headboard, closing my eyes and cursing my stupidity when my phone chimes. Then it chimes again.
I pounce across the bed and look at the screen. It’s him.
What happened?
Are you all right?
I don’t even have the time to type back to him because the phone is ringing in my hand, and it’s Nolan’s number. I answer, my voice soft. “Hello.”
“Dani.” His voice is flat and dark. “Are you all right?”
Am I? I don’t really know. “I guess so.”
“Tell me what happened.” A demand, and I don’t question the dark fury in his voice. I tell him what happened. I tell him about the paparazzi surrounding my house and the chase. The accident. Being fired. “Do you know which reporter it was who hit you?”
“I wish. I just know it was a guy in a black Escalade. He was gone when I got out of my car. He asked questions about us that I’d rather not repeat.”
There’s a sound that almost sounds like a growl. “I have a pretty good idea.”
“Who?”
“It sounds like Aaron Meyer,” he sighs. “He has a reputation as being of the most aggressive and vulgar paparazzi out there. Unfortunately, that makes him very popular with the gossip magazines.”
I tuck my knees into my chest. “Aggressive is one word for it.”
“But you’re okay? Nothing more than scratches?”
There’s relief in his voice and I’m angry with myself that I wondered whether he would care that something happened to me. He rescued me as a complete stranger. I know he’s a decent person, and I should have remembered that instead of letting my anger get the better of me. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Dani, I’m so sorry about this. I had no idea they would go after you like this. I’m used to being in the tabloids but they’ve never done something like this before.”
“It’s okay.”
“No it fucking isn’t,” he says, and I know that if Aaron Meyer and Nolan ever come face to face that Aaron had better run as fast as he can. “Where are you now?”
I laugh. “At my sister’s. She’s a little further outside Charleston than I am so I’m hoping it will take longer for them to find me here. I slept most of the day. Partly because I was exhausted and partly to avoid her husband. We don’t get along.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s normal,” I say, shrugging even though he can’t see me. “I’m actually waiting for them to go to bed so I can go to the kitchen and get some food.”
I can
practically see the shock on his face through the phone. “It’s that bad?”
“No, but after the day I’ve had I’d rather not deal with it.” His silence is heavy, and I don’t want him to apologize again. I just don’t, so I change the subject. “You’re pretty stealthy. It took me forever to realize the chip was even there.”
Nolan laughs. “I’ve been known to do some slight-of-hand. Comes in handy sometimes.”
“You do magic?”
“When I was younger. I learned some tricks to impress girls. Though once they saw my tricks they were less impressed.”
I roll my eyes. “I find that very hard to believe.”
“Trust me when I say I was no one’s fantasy in high-school.”
“Who’s to say you’re anyone’s fantasy now?” I counter.
I hear the smile in his voice and I know I’ve walked into the trap. “Tell me you didn’t think about me last night, and I’ll be convinced that I’m not.”
Arrogant bastard. “I didn’t.” Even I don’t believe myself.
He laughs, loud and long. “Right. I didn’t think about you last night either. I certainly didn’t think about you more than once, in many different ways.”
“Good,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry, my body heating up with his words, “I would hate to miss out on the fun by not being there. It was very considerate of you to hold back.”
The air in the room feels thick. I didn’t know it was possible to feel sexual tension over a phone call but I feel it now.
“It’s a pity I’m not there to show you what I wasn’t thinking.”
“Yes,” I say automatically, “it is.” I’m done being mad at him and that part of me that wants him is raring to life. The unfortunate part about not being at home is that I have no access to my vibrator. Dammit.