Wrecked (Crystal Book Billionaires)

by Jessica Blake

  Drinks? Today sucks.

  I smiled. A cold beer and a half hour unloading with one of my best buds was exactly what I needed.

  Mark sat in front of Pit Stop, on one of the long wooden benches behind the tables. Too busy typing feverishly away on his phone, he didn’t even notice my arrival.

  “Hey, big boy.” I reached down and ruffled his bright red hair.

  He jerked back and scowled. “Hey, watch it. I don’t wake up looking like this.”

  “Oh, really?” I grinned.

  He set his phone down on the table. “Yeah, not everyone is Mr. Perfect.”

  I acted like the insult didn’t get to me and looked through the pub window to see if I could catch a waitress’ attention.

  “I already ordered for you,” Mark explained, removing his feet from the bench across from him so I could take a seat.

  “Thanks.” I settled down with my forearms on the table. “So why does today suck?”

  He shook his head. “Lunch was crazy, and we were short staffed. Two people called in sick. Actually, they were likely hung over.”

  I chuckled. “No shit.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it was a whole lot of fun,” he continued, sarcasm flowing. “You should try it some time.”

  “Cooking on a line? No way. I can’t even make toast.”

  Mark smirked. “You rich boys…”

  I shrugged, not able to argue with him.

  “You sure you don’t need an assistant or something?”

  I rolled my eyes. “To do what? Check my mail and feed my fish?”

  “You make your life sound so boring.”

  “It is boring.” I leaned back against the bench’s backboard, relishing the breeze wafting down the sidewalk. Half of the shops downtown were closed, making it a quiet late Sunday afternoon. Only a couple other people sat in front of the pub, and no more than half a dozen more could be spotted on the sidewalks in both directions.

  “Then why are you still here?” he pointedly asked.

  I sighed and ran a hand through my hair that was still damp from the shower I’d taken right before walking over. “Sometimes boring is good.”

  “Hm,” he said in a tone that told me he wasn’t convinced.

  The pub’s door swung open and out walked Sasha, the raven haired bartender. She set the frothy pints of amber beer on the table and smiled at me. “How’s it going, Luke?”

  “Great. How are you, Sasha?”

  She set her palm against a cocked hip. “Can’t complain. You boys knock on the window if you need anything else.”

  “Thanks,” Mark said, his tongue practically hanging out of the side of his mouth as he stared at her. Sasha turned away from us, and Mark craned his neck to watch her hips sway in the cut-off jeans.

  When the door slammed shut behind her, he finally turned back to me. “Dude,” he said simply, the one word saying everything.

  “Your ogling is pretty hardcore,” I butted in before he could go on. “Watch it. She might kick you out.”

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh, man. It’s not me she wants. It’s you.”

  “What, Sasha?” I scratched my head and gave it some thought. She was pretty, sure, as well as nice. I’d just never felt any sort of chemistry between us.

  Mark took a gulp of his beer. “You could take her home in a heartbeat if you wanted.”

  I lifted my beer, then set it back down. “I’m glad you have confidence in me.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  Gazing down at a thick crack in the table’s wood, I wondered how much I felt like sharing?

  “Is this because of What’s-Her-Name?”

  “Sure, but that’s not her name.”

  “I’m trying to make talking about her easier by not even saying her name.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, meaning it. “And I don’t know, really.”

  “You never rebounded.”

  I laughed so loud the couple sitting at the other table glanced over at us. “I don’t need to rebound,” I argued.

  “Right.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, his nonchalance completely unreadable. Did he really believe me?

  “Good luck finding anything permanent and real in this town.”

  “Don’t say that,” I groaned.

  “It’s true. This pond is about as small as they get.”

  “Maybe you haven’t fished hard enough.” I grinned at him before picking up my glass again.

  “Seriously, though. You’ve been lots of places. South America. Europe.”

  “Don’t forget West Virginia.”

  “Exactly.” He ignored my joke. “You know what the women of the world are like.”

  “You make me sound like a Casanova. For most of the years I was traveling, I had the same girlfriend, you know.”

  “But you met plenty of women.” He pointed his finger at me. “So tell me… are they really any better in Crystal Brook?”

  I chugged half my beer and then took a deep breath. “Don’t knock this town just because it’s small, Mark. Gems can be hidden anywhere.”

  “All right. Whatever,” he flatly replied. Turning in his seat, he knocked on the window pane. “You want another one?”

  “No. I’ve got work to do.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a saint, Luke Anderson. A living saint.”

  I took a long swallow. “Too bad I don’t take prayer requests.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Grace

  I changed clothes for dinner. Just the concept of doing so always made me feel like I lived in the twenties in old Hollywood. Instead of a lavish evening gown, of course, I had a pair of black skinny jeans and a shimmery top.

  But the act of still making an effort to look my best made me feel better. After freshening up my makeup and running some dry shampoo through my hair, I was ready to go. I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror on the way down the hall. Yep. A fish out of water. That was me.

  But at least I knew who I still was, and I knew I’d eventually be back home in my native ocean.

  The dining room table sat in the kitchen, right in the corner next to a big window. A few serving dishes were already on the table, and Aunt Ginger smiled when she saw me hovering in the doorway.

  “Have a seat, Grace.”

  I covered the short distance across the room in a couple seconds, my ankle length high-heeled boots smacking against the linoleum. The wooden chair creaked as I pulled it out, and I sat down in it slowly, half afraid it might just give way as soon as my rear hit the cushion.

  Aunt Ginger grabbed some thick mitts and proceeded to pull something from the oven. “You look lovely,” she told me over her shoulder.

  The compliment was an instant mood booster. My back straightened, and I smiled, even though she couldn’t see me. “Thanks, Aunt Ginger,” I said, trying out the word “Aunt.” Surprisingly, it didn’t feel too awkward.

  Joe shuffled into the room, nodding at me while he took a seat nearest the window.

  “Joe,” his wife said. “The lemonade.”

  “Ah,” he answered. “Right.” He bounced back up and retrieved a big clear pitcher from the refrigerator and three glasses from a cabinet.

  “We also have coke and orange juice,” Aunt Ginger said to me. “And water, of course. What do you usually drink with dinner?”

  Got any vodka?

  “Lemonade is fine,” I told her.

  Uncle Joe poured a glass and slid it over to me. It was shockingly sweet, and I tried not to enjoy it too much. Sugary drinks held a permanent position on my no-no list of things to ingest.

  Unless I was on vacation, because that was an excuse to break the rules. And, in a way, you could say being in Crystal Brook was like being on vacation… in a roughing it kind of way.

  Aunt Ginger uncovered the dishes, letting a plethora of good smells into the air. Steam floated off broccoli with garlic, mashed potatoes, and some kind of casserole.

  “You made all this
?” I asked Aunt Ginger in awe.

  She smiled. “Mm hmm. Do you ever cook?”

  “Do Ramen noodles count?” I laughed.

  She settled into her seat and filled my plate for me before handing it over.

  “So Grace,” Uncle Joe started. “Have you given any thought to what you might do while you’re here?”

  The fork loaded with mashed potatoes stopped halfway to my mouth. “Uh, not really.”

  He swallowed a bite of food and then spoke again. “How about school? You got so far at NYU.”

  “I didn’t even finish my second year.”

  “There’s a community college here,” he continued as if he hadn’t even heard me. “It’s only a mile away. You could walk there.”

  I scoffed, and he looked at me oddly. “What?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s just, I went to NYU, you know… it’s one of the best schools in the nation.”

  He stared me down. “You also got kicked out of the best school in the nation for hoarding alcohol and drugs in your dorm room.”

  “It was just weed,” I answered, trying to keep my voice calm. “It’s not like it was anything hardcore.”

  And I definitely wasn’t hoarding. I was using those substances on a very regular basis, thank you very much, Uncle Joe.

  Aunt Ginger spoke up. “Well, we’re glad to hear you don’t do hardcore drugs, honey.”

  Another thing: I did do hardcore drugs. On the weekends, anyway.

  “No one is too good to continue their education,” Uncle Joe said. “And at least you’d be doing something while you’re here.”

  My gaze fell down to my plate. The food still looked delicious, but most of my appetite had evaporated with the beginning of our conversation.

  Uncle Joe went on. “I know it’s tempting to just sit around here and wait until your father works things out, but the truth is, that day may be a long time coming. And we’re happy to have you here, Grace.”

  Aunt Ginger quickly added her two cents. “We really are.”

  I peeked up at her and smiled. “Thanks.”

  Joe went on. “Your father has kept me up to date on what’s been going on in your life, and I think your time here is your chance to start fresh. We’d all hate for you to wander around aimlessly for the next ten years.”

  That last part made me bristle. “My life’s not aimless.”

  He gave me a patronizing smile. “I get that. But there’s more to life than sunning by the pool and shopping.”

  I gnawed at my tongue. Damn him. The man hadn’t seen me in years and yet he knew just which buttons to push. It definitely wasn’t fair.

  Aunt Ginger spoke slowly, as if measuring every word. “I think another thing Joe is trying to say is that there’s just not much to do in Crystal Brook. At least when compared to Los Angeles. There are the clubs at the library and such… but you might find you’ll be happier here if there’s something to occupy your time.”

  I twisted my lips around. I had purposely not given much thought to just how long I might be stuck in North Carolina, but I certainly had never dreamed it would be long enough to complete a whole term of school.

  Aunt Ginger straightened her shoulders and smiled like something had suddenly made her immeasurably happy. “What about a job? If you don’t go to school, I’m sure you can find a job that will look great on your resume.”

  I didn’t have a resume. Why? Because I’d never had a job. Never planned to.

  “I guess,” I said, thinking it best to humor her.

  She continued to grin. “So. What do you want to do?”

  “Well, I was studying English at NYU…”

  “That’s nice. That’s a sound basis for a lot of careers.”

  I speared a piece of broccoli and stared down at it. “Yeah…”

  “So what field would you like to go into?”

  “Give her a break,” Uncle Joe broke in. “She’s twenty-two. She may not know yet.”

  I glanced up at him. His comment was the first one of the meal that made me feel really good.

  Aunt Ginger pursed her lips. “I know that.”

  Her husband just kind of half shrugged, like he knew where the conversation might be heading, and he wasn’t willing to go there.

  “Anything is good,” he said, looking at me. “Experience is experience.”

  I forced down a bite of broccoli. “Right,” I mumbled.

  After dinner, I went straight back to the guest room and turned on my tablet to Skype Rainy. I settled down on the floor with my back against the bed and my legs stretched out. When my best friend’s heart shaped face appeared, I almost felt like crying. Her cream and white colored bedroom hovered in the background behind her as she collapsed on her stomach on her bed.

  “You’re alive!” she squealed.

  I sighed. “I know. But barely.” I peeked over my shoulder to make sure I’d shut the door all the way. It was tightly closed, but I lowered my voice just in case the walls were thin. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

  “What? NYU?”

  I scoffed. “Sure… has anyone asked about me?”

  “Madi did, and so did Jason Lovelace. I gave them both the story. You’re back in New York, living with your dad and waiting for school to start in the fall. Madi looked like she didn’t quite believe it, so I told her the school made an exception since you were one of their best students.”

  “Damn right.”

  Her eyes went wide. “But really. Back to the real story. What’s it like?”

  “Ugh. Humid.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “And small.” I gave it some thought. “But not as ugly as I would have thought. The downtown is actually pretty nice. A lot of the houses look really old.”

  “So kind of like the town in Gilmore Girls?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “A little bit.”

  “What are you going to do there? Is it like Pride and Prejudice where you just walk around all day in fields and wait for someone to call on you?”

  “Oh my God,” I gasped. “I almost forgot. My aunt and uncle want me to either go to community college or get a job.”

  Rainy snorted. “They’re not the boss of you.”

  “I’m staying in their house,” I reminded her.

  She fluttered her eyelashes. “Whatever. So which are you going to do?”

  I sighed. “I wouldn’t be caught dead going to a class at a community college.”

  “Yeah, but a job could be even worse.”

  “Or potentially much better.”

  “Unless it’s at McDonald’s,” she added quickly.

  “Ack,” I muttered, giving up.

  “It’ll be okay,” she said, although she looked like she didn’t even believe it herself.

  I sat up straighter, adjusting my leg that had started to fall asleep. “You didn’t by chance see Eli today, did you?”

  “No. Have you talked to him?”

  “Not since we said goodbye yesterday. I don’t want to look too needy. Some space is probably good, you know?”

  “Yeah,” she agreed.

  I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. “But God, I want to see him.”

  She visibly perked up. “Maybe you’ll find a guy where you are.”

  I shot daggers at her image. “Don’t even joke about that.”

  She shrugged, the picture of innocence. “What? It could happen.”

  “I did see one guy today who seemed potentially cute.”

  “Seemed?”

  “I only saw his profile. I mean, barely.”

  “Ah.”

  “He’s probably a redneck with a giant gun collection and a pickup truck that sports a heavy rotation of dead animals in its bed.”

  Rainy giggled. “That sounds like a fantasy waiting to happen.”

  I smirked, but it did nothing to quell the real sadness I felt deep down. “What are you doing tonight?”

  She shrugg
ed. “I don’t know. There’s a party at Cory’s cousin’s house in the Hills.”

  “Drive by my house and give it a wave for me, will you?”

  She stuck her lower lip out. “Poor Grace.”

  “I know.” My lower lip duplicated hers.

  From somewhere near her, her phone beeped. She glanced over at it and then back at me. “That’s my mom.”

  “Okay. Text me later?”

  “I’ll try to.” She blew me a kiss. “Later.”

  “Bye.”

  Her face disappeared from the screen, and I set the tablet on the carpet next to me but didn’t move. My aunt and uncle’s voices came from somewhere in the house, the steady tone of their conversation seeping through my closed door. A cricket — or maybe a frog — chirped in the back yard. I pulled my knees up and hugged them close, listening to the sounds and waiting for something to change.

  I sat there like that for a long time, just praying for the rescue that never came.

  When I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, I pulled out my phone and logged onto Facebook. This time, I had three messages from people back home, two from girls I’d gone to high school with and one from a close friend of Eli’s. They all wanted to know how I was doing with everything that had happened.

  “Ugh,” I said out loud, dropping my phone on the floor. I did not need their pity.

  I picked the phone back up, thinking I would text Eli, but then changed my mind. It was too soon. I’d only just left Los Angeles, after all. The personal upheaval in my life couldn’t be an excuse for me to suddenly get clingy.

  I got up and walked to one end of the room. Then I walked back to the bed. Then I walked back to the other end of the room.

  I stopped when I realized I was pacing.

  “Jesus,” I muttered. “I have got to get out of here.”

  Grabbing my purse, I pulled out my little powder compact and checked my reflection. Deeming the situation on my face good enough for a night time stroll, I shoved my phone in my purse and booked it out the door.

  The hallway was quiet, and I wondered if my aunt and uncle were already in bed. They did eat Sunday dinner at five-thirty, after all, so it really wasn’t that much of a stretch to assume they went to sleep right after that.

  I stopped at the hook by the front door and grabbed the key Aunt Ginger had told me was mine. Quietly sneaking out the front door, just to avoid any possible conversation with my relatives, I edged down the steps. Before I went down the sidewalk, I checked the address on the mailbox and texted it to myself, just in case the neighborhood proved more confusing than I thought it was and I had to use GPS to find my way back.