by Alexis Angel
Grabbing a seat at the bar, I order the most expensive whiskey they have, then tell the bartender to just bring me the whole fucking bottle.
I knock the first glass back like it’s a shot, not even caring that it’s a damn good waste of such a fine drink. Same thing with the second. When the burn settles in my stomach, I slow down, pouring a glass and jostling the ice around while I look around the bar.
Almost immediately, three women smile my way and saunter over to me on six-inch heels, hips swaying in their miniskirts as they bat their fake eyelashes and bite their heavily painted lips. I want to roll my eyes. They’re like slutty versions of Stepford wives. Carbon copies of each other.
How was I so into that shit a week ago? Right now I’m totally disgusted by the sight of them. Only out for a good fuck. To get their claws in Liam Donovan so they can say they fucked me, like some goddamn badge of honor.
Cara’s words come back to me as the cookie cutter skanks sidle up to me, draping themselves all over my body.
The ultimate player.
Liam fucking Donovan, king of the world.
Heartless bastard.
God’s gift to women.
A pathetic overgrown kid.
Does she really think of me like that? She knows that’s not the real me, right? I don’t even know now. And the thought makes me sick. Disgusted with myself, just like she said she was. I don’t want her thinking of me that way. Because it’s not who I am. Not really. It’s a facade, built to protect my heart. The heart that got decimated anyway.
I shove my unfinished drink away, along with the rest of the bottle, and push the women off of me. Glancing around, I notice there are plenty more watching, waiting to take their place. Fuck, I can’t even get a damn drink in peace without every woman in the place throwing themselves at me. Wanting a night with the city’s most infamous playboy.
Fuck this shit. I toss a bill on the bar and push past the women without so much as a word or a glance, making my way out of the bar. Heading back in the direction of my apartment, I hang a left on the street beside it and punch in the code to enter my private garage.
I have several cars in here, depending on which one suits my mood if I don’t feel like taking my limo. But there’s only one I have my eye on tonight.
I run my fingers over the soft cover that I haven’t removed in years. I hire someone to take this baby for a spin just enough to keep the engine in good condition. Taking a deep breath, I yank the cover off.
My eyes settle on the vintage Mustang. It’s a Shelby GT 500. My brother’s pride and joy.
Lucas.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat. I haven’t driven it since he died. We used to take it out all the time together. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at it, much less drive it.
So what’s different now? All I can think is that Cara’s ripped off the bandage on the wounds I try so hard to cover up. All the feelings I don’t want to acknowledge. But there’s no fighting them now. She’s making me feel a thousand different emotions.
If Lucas were here, I’d have him to talk to about it. Maybe driving his car will help me clear my head. Give me some kind of clarity about what the fuck I do now.
I grab the keys from the password protected safe attached to the cement wall and sit down inside, the smell of the leather filling my nose. Blowing out a breath, I crank the engine, and the muscle car roars to life. In seconds, I’m pulling out onto the streets of Manhattan into the congestion I hate with only one thought in my mind.
I need to get the fuck out of this city.
33
Liam
As soon as I’m out of the city, my thoughts immediately start to quiet. And the further and further away I get, the stiller they become. Driving my brother’s car seems to bring some kind of peace to me. As if I still have a connection to him of sorts. Now that I know this, I wonder why I haven’t driven it before. That’s something that needs to change.
I find myself on the long, quiet, two-lane country road that leads to the place Lucas is buried. I haven’t been there in ages. But I feel as if I’m being drawn there. Brought to the one place where I might get some clarity. Some guidance.
Because I sure as fuck don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
When I reach the cemetery, I park the Shelby and climb out, walking slowly toward Lucas’s grave. I stand for a long time in front of it, letting the emotions run their course, not trying to hide from them.
I’ve done that for too long. Years. I never let myself think about it. I’ve thrown myself into my work during the day and my playboy lifestyle at night, never giving myself time to dwell on my losses. Simultaneously avoiding letting my guard down. Protecting myself from the assault of pain that’s hitting me right now.
But maybe that’s what I need. To feel again. That’s what Cara’s forced me to do. And while I’m hurting like a motherfucker right now, it’s better than being numb.
Because I’ve missed out on so much by keeping myself detached, remaining aloof. I might not have been hurting, but I also wasn’t living. Not really. It was all a farce.
Right now all I want is to be back with Cara. Living.
I go down to my knees in front of my brother’s grave and speak from my heart.
“Lucas,” I sigh. “God, I miss you, brother. So fucking bad.”
My chest tightens painfully, and I almost want to run back to the car and drive away from this shit, but I’m hoping against hope that somehow coming here will give me some kind of direction. Some clarity on what I need to do.
I take a deep breath. “I fell in love, man. Wish you were here to see her. To meet the woman who finally brought Liam Donovan to his knees.” I chuckle, thinking about how much Lucas would love Cara.
I pour my heart out there in the middle of the graveyard, spilling my guts to my brother, even though he’s long gone from this world. I tell him all about how we met, how she stole my heart from the very beginning without me even realizing it.
Then I tell him, “I fucked up, man. Bad. I don’t know how to fix it.”
I pause, drawing a deep breath, letting all my words settle in the silence. I really did screw this up. I was in on the ploy from the very beginning. And while she was, too, she wasn’t aware the entire time like I was. For all she knows, I was just fucking with her the whole time. She has no way of knowing if anything I said was true. If my feelings are real or not. If everything we shared was all part of an elaborate game or if it was all real. It was. Every fucking bit of it.
But I can see now just how much my deception hurt her. She feels betrayed. Because I knew all along what she was up to, her lies don’t feel like a betrayal. But mine do.
I blow my breath out through my teeth and scrape my hand over my face. “God, Lucas, I miss you so bad, but the idea of losing Cara hurts just as bad in a different way.” I set my jaw, not wanting to accept that I could have lost her for good. That it’s over.
It’s not over. I won’t let go of her now that I’ve found someone that has made me feel again.
“I won’t lose another person I love, Lucas. Not when she’s still here. Donovans never say die, right?” My lips lift in a sorrowful smile. We always used to say that. We were tenacious. Not willing to give up on anything. Ever. And I know that’s how Lucas was in his final moments, fighting to the death, unwilling to give up or give in.
And that’s how I want to be. Unafraid. Determined.
I nod, feeling as if my brother is right there with me, smiling over me as I come to this realization. As if coming to this place really did give me the clarity I was searching for.
I stand, a new resolve forming in my spirit, and I tell my brother what I’m going to do as a plan forms in my mind.
“I’m going to get Cara back. I’m going to make her mine. Forever.”
34
Liam
Betty brings me another cup of coffee the next morning as I work like a madman.
“Thanks, love,�
�� I tell her, flashing her a quick smile.
“Hard at work, aren’t you?” Her grandmotherly demeanor makes me happy. “I’ll keep it coming,” she says, nodding at the coffee.
“Please,” I reply, giving her a mock-desperate look. I’m going to need all the energy I can get if I’m going to pull this thing off. I was up most of the night thinking about my plan, and when I realized I was just tossing and turning at four this morning, I came to the office to get shit done. I’ve worked almost an entire work day already, and I’m nowhere near finished.
Betty leaves, shutting the door that separates my office from the lobby where her desk is, and I pick up the phone, making what feels like the thousandth call today.
I speak to the head of one of my favorite charities, getting his opinion and input, seeing how fast he can make things happen, typing out emails and arranging conference calls and making lists of vendors all at the same time. Normally for something this huge, I’d outsource all this shit, but I don’t have any margin for error with this.
Everything has to be perfect. My whole fucking future hinges on it.
On one of my calls a bit later, I knock back what’s left of the coffee and click to my messaging app on my computer, requesting more from Betty.
She walks in with it almost immediately, in time to hear me raise my voice to the coordinator I’m speaking with. “You need to check with your superiors immediately. I’m calling in a favor here, and I won’t take no for an answer. I’ve donated uncountable amounts of money to your organization. I expect to hear back from you in the next hour with a different answer.”
I slam the phone down, and Betty looks at me in surprise. I don’t often have to play the role of a hard-ass when it comes to my business interactions, but I’ve been calling in favors all fucking day for this. I don’t like being told no. It’s not something I’m used to. And it pisses me off to be told my requests can’t be accommodated on such short notice. Fuck that. I’m not above reminding anyone and everyone what all I’ve done for them in the past. This is too fucking important.
Just as Betty sets my coffee down, Connor appears in the doorway, his eyebrows flying nearly up to his hairline at the chaos my office has become. Discarded coffee cups, wadded up papers, notepads everywhere. My office is always immaculate, but this kind of reflects my current state of mine.
“How’s it going, man?” he asks warily as Betty makes herself scarce, shutting the door on her way out.
I glare at him.
Connor holds his hands up, palms out. “Sorry for asking. Caught you at a bad time, apparently.” But it doesn’t stop him from sitting down on one of the leather chairs across from me. He crosses one ankle over the opposite knee. “How are things with Cara?”
I groan.
“That bad?”
“Well, let’s just say that telling a fucking lie isn’t the best way to start a new relationship.”
Connor gives me a sympathetic look. “It was a fucking bad idea. I’m sorry, dude. I really thought it might help you see the light, though.”
I snort. “See the light? What are you, a fucking prophet now?”
Connor chuckles. “I just mean that it’s time you stopped the path of self-destruction you were on.”
I roll my eyes. He acts like he’s so wise, but it’s his stupid idea that got me into this mess in the first place. But then I sigh. I can’t really be mad because if it weren’t for him, I never would have met Cara in the first place.
“Well, your plan backfired,” I say. “But that’s okay. If nothing else, I realized you’re right. And I fucking love her, dude. How crazy is that?”
Connor smiles. “I’d say I never thought I’d see the day, but…”
“Okay, smart ass. You were right about Cara being the girl for me, but you’re brilliant idea still landed me in hot water.” I grin anyway. “But I have a plan. I’m going to get her back.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Tell me more.”
I start telling him some of the plans I’m putting in place, but stop when my phone blinks and vibrates on my desk. I pick it up and stare at the screen.
Cara.
I let it go to voicemail.
“What the fuck, man?” Connor asks. “You sure have a funny way of trying to win a girl back.”
I shake my head, a smile curving my lips. “Wrong, genius. The next time I talk to Cara, it’s going to be face to face. None of this pussy over the phone bullshit.”
Then I finish filling him in on my plans. When I’m done, he leans back in his chair and lets out a low whistle.
“That takes some serious balls, dude.”
I shrug. “Go big or go home.”
Connor laughs, shaking his head. “Good luck, man. Good luck.”
I nod my thanks. Because I’m sure going to fucking need it.
35
Cara
Hangovers aren’t fun.
Getting drunk and acting like a depressed mess is kinda liberating for awhile, I guess, but the world doesn’t stop turning because you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Which means that, the first thing I did after waking up in the morning, was take a cold shower and get dressed for work. After all, Lust Muscle isn’t going to run itself.
Even though Renee tucked me into bed, promising me that she’d allow me to call Liam in the morning, I quickly realized that I couldn’t do it sober. She left my phone in my bed stand and, despite looking at Liam’s number for an eternity, I eventually gave up on it.
It’s 10 am now, and I haven’t picked up my phone since I left the apartment. I’m trying to focus on going through the mountain of paperwork that has piled up on my desk, but it’s almost impossible to do so. I’m hungover and, more than just that, I’m feeling embarrassed.
Liam is probably still mad with me, and I can’t just call him out of the blue. After all, I said some harsh things. Can I blame him if he’s pissed at me? I guess I can’t, specially because I’m pissed at myself for acting like such a bitch. And the worst thing is, I can’t stop thinking of that. It’s like these thoughts are a scratched recorded, repeating themselves over and over again.
“Cara, there’s someone here for you,” I hear my assistant’s voice coming from the intercom, derailing my train of thought.
“Whoever it is, I’m not seeing any clients today,” I reply, pressing the blinking red button on my old fashioned intercom. I get back to my paperwork, fairly confident that I won’t get any more interruptions, but two seconds later the door to my office swings open with a loud noise.
I raise my head and look toward the noise, blinking as I try to figure out who’d break in here like that. Ah, what am I saying? The answer to that couldn’t be any more self-evident.
The one and only, Misty Lane.
She has her hair tied up in a bun, and there’s a smile on her face; instead of looking like an alcoholic mess, this time she just looks… well, she just looks like a mess. From inside her pink purse, Cupcake is looking at me with his kind but lazy eyes.
“Cara,” Misty greets me with a nod, walking toward my desk and sitting in front of me. Surprisingly, she isn’t walking erratically and her speech isn’t slurred. I think this is the first time in my life that I’m meeting Sober Misty. Which, now that I think about it, is kinda weird.
“What are you doing here, Misty?” I ask her, my headache growing tenfold with her presence. Despite knowing that she was just playing a role, Misty really turned out to be a major pain in the ass. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to see her ever again. But now here she is, as sober as a judge.
“I came here for this,” she says with a smile, taking a folded envelope from inside her purse. She places it face down on my desk and slides it toward me. Never taking my eyes off hers, I pick the envelope up and open it.
Inside, there’s a check.
“It’s your payment,” she continues, “you deserve it.”
I raise my eyes from the check and look at her, having no idea on what I should say.
Is she for serious?
“And I want to apologize. I know that sometimes I can be quite intense, and I guess I overdid it this time. I just lost myself in the role, you know? Being an actress isn’t easy, Cara,” she tells me gravely, almost as if she believes she’s offering me one of life's secrets.
“You were in a reality TV show, Misty…” I tell her, my brain overheating as I try to crack her thought process.
“Yeah, that really helped me hone my acting skills,” she giggles, patting Cupcake’s head with one hand. “But, anyway. I’m really sorry for all the stress I might have caused - but it was all in the name of love, right?”
“Maybe,” I sigh, leaning back against my chair. Even though Misty might be a complete lunatic, I can’t hold a grudge against someone like her. She’s a lunatic, yeah, but a lovable one. And I guess that, in a twisted way, she really believed she was doing the right thing. I just wish she hadn’t, ahem, lost herself in the role she was playing.
“Maybe?” She asks me, placing both her elbows on the desk and leaning forward.
“Yeah. Things aren’t that great right now, and I haven’t heard from Liam.”
“Oh, Cara, Cara… You really need to step up your game,” she nods sagely, looking at me as if she were my mentor, ready to make me see my true potential. “Do you know what you need to do?”
“What, Misty?” I ask her, genuinely curious about what a troubled mind like hers will come up with.
“Easy. Very, very easy - just put on something sexy and go find him. Nobody can stay mad at their true love… Specially if she’s dressed in nothing but a trench coat and lingerie.”
“Are you… serious?” Does she really want me to go after Liam with a trench coat? I want to make things right, not to have a restraining order slapped on me.