by JA Huss
“Yes,” I say softly into the phone.
“I liked that. It was fun. We are now @mrinvsman and @mrsinvsman. Private profiles who only follow each other. Log in tomorrow night at eight your time using ‘bluebird’ as your password.”
And then I get the three beeps.
My phone vibrates a message a few seconds later. I look down and this time the number comes up.
I will ignore you as FilthyBlueBird from now on. But you’re still mine, #MrsInvisibleMan.
What if I don’t want to play? I text back.
Then don’t. A pause from him. Then—Do you want to play?
I like being asked.
That’s not an answer.
Yes.
Are you still naked?
Yes.
I get a smiley face in return. Be naked tomorrow at eight your time, #MrsInvisibleMan.
Chapter Three
#SisterSecrets
GOD, that girl, I think as I press the end tab on my phone. She’s got me. Somehow, she’s grabbed my attention like no other woman I’ve ever met. She’s naughty and mouthy and I love it. And I realize I’ve got a stupid grin on my face.
I snap out of it when my phone rings and Sam’s face lights up the screen. I smile a very different kind of smile and press accept. “Why are you calling me on your honeymoon, princess? Are you ready to divorce Tray already?”
“Do you think I should?”
“What?” Fuck.
“I mean, it could be an annulment, right? Do they still let you do those things?”
“Sam, what’s going on? What happened?”
“Nothing happened, Vaughn. I’m just so unsure of this. I mean, I’ve never been so unsure of anything in my life. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I can’t…” She stops and huffs out a breath. “I can’t sleep with him, Vaughn. I just can’t do it.”
“Wait, you’ve never slept with him before?”
“Of course not!”
“Oh my God, you’re a virgin?”
“I’m insulted that you’re surprised!”
“Sorry, it’s just…” I guess it all makes sense. My sister has always been a prissy thing, but I’ve always assumed it was an act. “It wasn’t an act?”
“Why would I lie about this?”
Shit, I can think of like a billion reasons, but I keep that to myself. “I wonder if Felicity is still a virgin. Dare I hope she’s been as frigid as you?”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
“Sorry. OK, well, look, sis, it’s pretty normal to be… ah… Jesus, can’t you find a girlfriend to talk to about this shit?”
“I already talked to them! They’re on his side!”
“What side is his? He did something, didn’t he? I’ll kill that asshole.”
“He didn’t do anything, he’s just… Vaughn, he’s just not the prince I’ve been waiting for. And I know, I just feel it to be true, that if I sleep with him as his wife, I will be making the biggest mistake of my life. Bigger than marrying him. Because I’ve been saving myself for the perfect guy. And I’m sorry, I know Mom and Dad paid a fortune for this wedding, but I can’t do it. He’s not my guy. He’s not.”
She lets out a long breath and waits for my reaction. I know whatever I tell her, she will take it very seriously. So I really need to tread carefully here.
“Sam, first of all, your happiness is the only thing we care about, OK? Mom and Dad do not give two fucks about the cost of the wedding. So don’t let that be a determining factor. But before you make up your mind, I just think you should stop comparing Tray to some fictional guy who doesn’t exist. Because, honey, he’s not out there. We’re all assholes. We’re all the same. We don’t think the way you ladies do. We’re not perfect. And I’m going to tell you the truth, I don’t like Tray. I don’t think he’s good enough for you, so if you want to ditch the guy, by all means call the plane, pack your shit, and leave his ass on Saint Thomas. But before you do anything, Samantha, I want you to make sure. Because this really isn’t something you can undo. A man’s not going to forget that you had these second thoughts on the honeymoon. So if you walk away, be sure.”
She’s silent for a long time. Almost a minute. But I’m patient. I let her think. She just needs someone to listen to her and if I’m the only one who will, then I’ll wait all night for her to be ready to speak again.
I’ve always worried about her so much as she was growing up. She’s a fragile person. One prone to sadness and guilt over things she has no control over. The state of the world. Injustices in faraway countries I probably couldn’t place on a map. Kids who have no parents. She was a huge reason why I didn’t press charges against Felicity. I was so angry when that girl hacked into my personal business, I was ready to do just about anything to get even. But Samantha calmed me down. Made me see things differently. Made me see Felicity as the desperate teenager she was instead of the criminal I was trying to make her out to be.
I owe Sam for that. Because my life was a hollow shell before that girl came into it. And every day since has been better than the last. No matter what happens during my day, seeing Felicity at the end of it—hearing her smart-ass mouth, listening to her crazy plans about meeting guys, watching her change from a suspicious and angry teen to a brilliant, confident, intelligent young woman…
Well, that’s what life is about.
Sam sighs on the other end of the line again. “OK. I’m going to have dinner with him in an hour and I’ll give him a chance. I’ll stop comparing him to my perfect guy and see him for what he is. A nice-looking man with a good job who loves me.”
“Jesus, is that how you see him?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, look, Sam, I’m no expert on how women should feel about men. But on your honeymoon you should want to spend every minute with him. You should be gazing into his eyes, declaring your lust, for fuck’s sake. You should absolutely not be on the phone with your brother.”
“God, Vaughn. I don’t love him. All of that makes me tremble with fear and apprehension. And I have played sick every night since the wedding so I didn’t have to sleep with him. I’m almost out of excuses. He’s going to want to sleep with me tonight, I just know it. And I don’t want to. I don’t want him to touch me, Vaughn.”
My sister doesn’t want him to touch her. That’s enough for me. “I’m calling the airport.”
“What?”
“I’ll take care of it, sweetie. OK? I’ll call the jet. You pack your things right now, and go get in the taxi. I’ll have someone meet you at the airport and bring you home.”
She starts crying and I want to jump through the phone and hug her, that’s how bad this tears me up. “Sam, you’re gonna be all right? I’m gonna take care of it, OK? Just do as I ask and then call me when you get on the plane so I know you’re safe. Understand?”
“OK,” she squeaks out. “I’m going now. I’ll call you on the plane. And Vaughn? Thank you. Thank you so much for this.”
“It’s no big deal, sis. It’s what brothers are for.”
We hang up and I sit back against the couch and let out a long, sad sigh. I just sit there for a few minutes, running all this over in my head, then I press the pre-set for the jet service and arrange the plane. Then I call the airport concierge and tell them to meet Samantha outside departures and escort her to the jet.
And once all that is done, I speed-dial Conner. He picks up on the first ring.
“Yo, bro. What’s up?”
“Samantha is leaving Tray. I just set up the jet so she can leave without telling him.”
“Fuck, what happened?”
“She doesn’t love him. She felt pressured to accept his proposal and make it work. She hasn’t slept with him and he’s making her shake just thinking about it.”
“Fuck.”
“But that’s not why I called. I need a favor, Conner. And I need it to be done very discreetly. Can you do that?”
“Please, brother. Discreet is my middle name. C
onner Discreet Asher at your service.”
I tell him what I want and we hang up after he gets the details.
God, I just hope Felicity doesn’t end up with a guy she can barely stand because she feels pressured to accept a proposal. I should’ve sent her to a public university. Get her away from the arrogant rich kids who flow with the money at USC.
I ponder all the mistakes I might’ve made with Felicity in the four short years I’ve had to influence her life, and come to the conclusion I’m a failure. No matter what I do, it probably won’t be enough to protect her from getting hurt. Not in love, not in life, not in anything.
My phone rings and I press Sam’s happy face to answer. “Tell me good news, sis.”
“I’m on the plane.” She starts to cry and I almost lose it.
“Do you want me to tell them to forget it?”
“No! These are happy tears, Vaughn. Just thank you. So much for being the best brother ever. Thank you. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Tray—”
“I’ll take care of Tray. I’ll see you when you get to LA, now get some rest.”
I look up Tray in my contacts and press in the numbers. He picks up on the fourth ring. “Yeah,” he says, his voice almost completely drowned out by the club music in the background.
“Tray, Vaughn Asher here. I’d just like to let you know your marriage to my sister will be annulled. I’ll send you the court date. If you try and contact her, I’ll take legal action. Have a nice night out clubbing.”
I press end on the phone and wait for the callback. But he doesn’t call back.
And while that’s good in the short term—I won’t have to deal with him, he seems to have gotten the message—that’s not good for the long term.
Because a man who doesn’t fight for his new bride when she gets cold feet and walks out on the honeymoon will probably turn out to be an asshole.
Chapter Four
#YouAreCaredFor
VAUGHN invades my dreams and they are some of the sexiest dreams I’ve ever had. I dream about his hard chest, the curve of his muscles, the scratchiness of his jaw, the thrust of his cock inside me—making me wet, making me shudder, making me—
My alarm goes off on my phone and I reach under my pillow to find it. I swipe the screen and it goes silent and then I glance at the time and weather, like I do every day, and get a pleasant surprise.
Good morning, #MrsInvisibleMan.
Wow. I smile. I’m smiling like… huge. It almost feels like we’re friends now. I stare up at the ceiling for a few seconds. Vaughn Asher is texting me good morning. And he’s calling me MrsInvisibleMan. It’s weird that he’s calling me that, but I started it last night with the #MrsInvisibleOnline hashtag. I tap the screen to pull up the keypad and type out a response.
What kind of perks do I get for being your Mrs?
He texts back immediately and I bite my lip as I wait, my eyes glued to the little typing message.
I take care of what’s mine. Whatever you want.
Haha. Then I will get you my list. :) I gotta go to work. Toots.
I throw the phone down and get up so I’m not tempted to stay in bed and chat with him. I have to mentally shake myself for a second, because it’s just so surreal. I’m starstruck and yet not all at the same time. Last week this man was the star of all my sexual fantasies. And this week I know him intimately.
Not as intimately as I’d like, it’s been a strange introduction. But holy hell, I had sex with him. Twice.
Yeah, it was the same day, and they were both on vacation. But still. Twice.
And he’s still calling—and texting, and messaging—so that means he wants more than sex. Right? I’m not delusional, am I? He’s definitely interested in something else, because for whatever reason, he’s making sure he leaves a lasting impression. And he might even be going out of his way to make it… well, maybe not good. But certainly satisfactory.
I take care of what’s mine.
That’s not something a man says when he’s looking to move past a one-night stand.
Am I way off here? Is he just blowing smoke up my ass? But why do that? I’m nobody.
Maybe that’s why he wants you, Grace? Because you’re safe. You’re secret. You’re invisible.
But I even met his parents. Sure, it was the briefest of meetings. I barely said hello. But I met the famous Adam Asher. And his weird brother Conner. And his beautiful fragile sister, who really did marry the wrong man, even I picked up on that.
I take a shower and my fingers wander down to the cleft of my sex. I consider it for a moment, but I pull back before I even get started. If I’m going to be twexting with Vaughn Asher tonight, I want to be aching for release.
Thirty minutes later I’m heading out the door and out of habit I head to my car, but just as I’m clicking the door locks, I remember—I don’t have to drive.
Yes. I even do a fist pump.
The full meaning of my promotion hits me and I allow myself a wide, broad, beaming smile as I walk back into my building, exit the front door, and find myself out on Wazee Street. It’s always been a dream of mine to be able to live and work locally. And now that I’m working in our Downtown office instead of the Cherry Creek office, I can do that.
I walk up to the Sixteenth Street Mall and the free mall bus is just pulling up. My Starbucks is only a block and a half down, but what the hell? How many people get to take the mall bus to work? I get on, stand, weaving a little as the bus moves, then get off on the next stop with a grin. My Starbucks is only a few steps away and my new work—right across the street.
I do a little happy dance in my head and pull the door open on my favorite coffee establishment. I keep my coffee money on my handy Starbucks app, so I pull that up as I stand in line and wait my turn.
And this is when my dream comes crashing back to reality.
I spent almost all my money on that first-class plane ticket home and I won’t be paid for another week. I have to make a car payment in a few days, and that right there will wipe out my whole account. I will be short, in fact, once I pay insurance. The prepaid balance on my Starbucks card is even worse. I might not even be able to afford my coffee right now. If my memory serves, my card might have about three dollars left.
Maybe I can sell my car? Then I wouldn’t have that payment. Two payments if I stopped my insurance.
I dig through my purse, looking for change.
“What can I get you?” the overworked cashier asks me.
“Um, just a venti Coffee of the Day, thanks.” I look longingly at the muffins as I wait for him to fill up my cup. That’s one perk of getting cheap coffee. They fill it up for you as you wait. “And a blueberry muffin,” I add quickly once he sets down my drink.
“Four seventy-five.”
I flash my app under the scanner and gather up my nickels and dimes. I know I don’t have that much on my card.
But he hands it back with a receipt and says, “Next!”
I take my coffee over to the milk station and add in three sugars and half-and-half, still thinking about my card balance.
I guess it’s my lucky day. I smile again as I stir my coffee and put a lid on it. My step is a bit lighter as I walk out the door and enjoy the crisp fall air as I stroll across the street to my office.
The downtown office of Big Guys Events, of which I am now an employee, is run by Scott Baker and his brother, Blake. They own the Cherry Creek office too, but they call that one Little Lady Events, and it’s run by the bitchy sisters, Leah and Ali—gag, they are a Mean Girls movie waiting to happen. I was never a favorite of theirs, so I was a little surprised when I got promoted up to Big Guys, but hey, I’m just living, breathing proof that hard work pays off.
The Big Guys are super-cool. We hit it off immediately at my interview and I’m hoping they give me club events to manage as my first gig. Big Guys handles a bunch of those, all of them hip, trendy rock clubs that have up-and-coming bands playing every weekend and special events once
a month.
I’d be the special events girl. I wouldn’t be dealing with rock bands, thank God. Just planning one or two fantastic parties for each club every month.
Whew.
The reality of that is sort of stressing me out as I pull open the door to our building and push the button for the elevator. Our building is six stories tall and only has our offices on the top two floors. The bottom floor is a sandwich shop, but there’s a separate entrance for that.
The doors open so I get in and hit the button for the fifth floor for a quick stop at my office—squee—before I have to check in with the Big Guys on the top floor for my assignments. The doors open and Flora, the main receptionist, greets me with a wave as she talks to someone on the phone through her headset. My office is the last on this floor. It’s small and dark, but I do not care.
I flip on the light and stand there for a moment to let it sink in.
I’ve made it. I’m here. And even though the thirty-two-thousand-dollar salary isn’t a lot, it’s two thousand dollars more than I was making in Cherry Creek.
So squee again!
I sit at my old desk and take out my laptop and set it up next to my new desktop so I can check my mail.
I have a bunch of spam and an email from MrInvisible. I have to smirk as I open that up.
Enjoy your first day!
Wait. Did I tell him I started a new job? Did I give him my email?
“Grace?” Flora calls from outside my door. “You have a delivery.”
“Delivery?” I get up and peek out the door and spy the most ginormous bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen. They are like two feet tall and four feet wide, I’m not even joking. “What’s that?” I ask, walking up to the reception desk.
“Flowers, obviously.” Flora says, peeking out from behind them and pushing up her nerd glasses. “You have a great guy, I’m so jealous.”
“Um, yeah. He’s really great. I don’t know if I can even carry—”