Parker Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  Chapter 23

  Teagan

  I ignored every single one of Ben’s attempts to call or text. I wanted to talk to someone, but I didn’t want to call my mom or Aoife since it had been a while since we last talked, and we hadn’t really made amends. And though I had tens of thousands of followers online, I realized I didn’t really have a close friend I could talk to, someone I would feel comfortable sharing my feelings with.

  Except Ben. But that wasn’t an option now, since he was the cause of these feelings to begin with.

  I tried to keep myself busy. I went to my usual places: the flea market, a few thrift stores; I brought my laptop to a café and sat there, trying to keep myself occupied by adding things to a Pinterest board I had long forgotten about.

  When Elliott called as I was returning to my apartment, I picked up, actually happy to hear the sound of his voice.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, which caused me to burst into tears. “Oh, boy,” he said as I sobbed. “Why don’t we meet up. It sounds like you need to talk.”

  His voice sounded so familiar, and the thing about Elliott was he knew me. I wasn’t interested in him romantically, but we had been good friends and there was a part of me that wished things could’ve stayed that way. I took several shuddering breaths, finally managing to get myself to settle down, enough that I could at least agree to meet with him at a café. That would be better than having him come over here, because I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. I wanted to talk, not hook up.

  We met at Arabesque, and sat outside. I ordered a salad and some white wine, even though I wasn’t that hungry. On the way over, I had debated whether or not I should try to just play it off like nothing had happened, because I wasn’t sure if talking to Elliott about this would actually be helpful. He might get mad, even. But once we were sitting across from each other, and I’d taken a few sips of wine, the words just started flowing and I wasn’t able to stop until the whole story came out.

  “I’m glad you feel like you can still confide in me,” Elliott said. “It means a lot.”

  “Well, I appreciate you being here to talk. I know I just said a lot, but I’m still in shock over the whole thing. I can’t believe it happened.”

  “What an asshole,” Elliott said, shaking his head. “All the signs were probably there, though, Tea. Which I know isn’t that helpful now. But at least you got out before things got more serious. Before you’d invested any more time.”

  “That’s true,” I said. I took another gulp of wine, my second glass, because I enjoyed the way that it was dulling my pain. The wine was making it feel like I could maybe live through this, as opposed to when I was sober and it felt like even taking a breath was too daunting of a task. “I guess that’s the silver lining.”

  “Meredith is a bitch.”

  “She didn’t know Ben and I had just started going out.”

  “You think that matters?”

  I finished my glass and looked around for the waitress, wanting to signal her to bring me another. “I don’t know. I mean, I would hope so. She and I had just hung out before all this happened, and I felt like we connected. I thought you were friends with her.”

  “Then you thought wrong. Meredith was a ‘friend’ until she realized that my Instagram account wasn’t going to be as popular as hers—or yours—and then she suddenly didn’t have time for me anymore. Which is fine by me, because she’s not the sort of person I want to hang around anyway, but... you should watch out for her. Don’t trust her.”

  “All she knew was that I had hooked up with Ben. Not that we were together.” I saw our waitress and held my finger up, hoping she’d get the hint.

  “Are you sure you should have another?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I guess what I’m wondering is,” Elliott said, “if Meredith had told you about a guy she had just hooked up with, would you have immediately gone out and gotten some for yourself?”

  “No,” I said.

  “So, see? She’s a bitch. She’s one of those people who deserves to have something really bad happen to her—though the way the universe works, that probably will never actually happen.”

  The waitress came over with another glass of wine, and then asked if we’d just like the whole bottle, to which I promptly said yes.

  “I just don’t understand why she did that,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense. She’s got so much. Her life is perfect. She’s in an open relationship and can hook up with anyone she wants to, yet she somehow decides that the guy I’m with is the one she’s got to have.”

  “Of course,” Elliott said. “That’s the kind of person she is. She doesn’t want someone else to have something that she doesn’t have. That includes people, too. I mean, I almost feel bad for this guy, Ben. But he really screwed this up.”

  It almost seemed like Elliott was reveling in this fact, but I figured it was just because he liked being right and he had never been a huge fan of Meredith’s. By the time lunch was over, I was thoroughly drunk. More drunk than I had been in a long time, which was fine because now I really didn’t care about anything.

  Elliott put his arm around me and pulled me in for a hug. I let him, but then he let go and tilted my head back, leaned in for a kiss. I turned my face away.

  “I can’t,” I said. Or at least, that’s what I was trying to say—it came out sounding more like, “Ehkat.” I was not so drunk, though, that I couldn’t tell how badly Elliott wanted me right now, which should’ve made me feel good, but it didn’t. And sleeping with him wasn’t going to fix anything either.

  “Come on, Tea,” he said. “I know we still have the connection.”

  But that wasn’t true, because that connection he thought we had never existed in the first place.

  “I have to go,” I said, speaking slowly, enunciating my words, so there would be no chance that he would misunderstand what I was saying. He frowned.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.”

  He threw up his hands. “I can’t believe this. What is up with you? Are you at all familiar with the term mixed messages? Because that sure as hell is what’s going on here.”

  “I know what I don’t want to do,” I said, “and that is hook up with you.”

  A dark look crossed his face and he opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped. “Fine,” he said after a moment. He didn’t want to have some sort of public dispute, and I knew if I got any louder, that’s exactly what this would be considered.

  “I thought you were my friend,” I said. “I thought you wanted to see me because you wanted to listen to what was going on, you wanted to be there for me. But what it sounds like is all you wanted to do was get in my pants.”

  I was beginning to feel a little sick, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the situation or the alcohol, or both. Were all guys complete dogs? It certainly seemed that way. Maybe all people, more accurately, because Meredith really did play a role in this, too. I never would’ve hooked up with a guy she had told me she had just slept with, whether or not I knew if they were officially a couple. That just wasn’t something I would feel comfortable doing. And I knew that it had been pretty clear to her that night how much I liked Ben.

  “I’ll see you later,” was all Elliott said before he walked off, shaking his head in disgust.

  Well, great. Now I was all alone, and I wasn’t quite sure what I should do. Without thinking, I pulled my phone out of my purse and called Ben. It was time to really tell him what I thought.

  “Teagan?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Teagan. The person who used to be your girlfriend, who you claimed you loved, despite having kissed someone else. It’s me.”

  There was a pause. “Have you... have you been drinking?”

  “That’s entirely none of your business.”

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re right. Is everything okay?”

  “Is everything okay... is that a rhetorical question? Well, let’s see.
I just went out to lunch with my ex-boyfriend, because he keeps badgering me to hang out and I thought that it might be nice to have someone to talk to, so I took him up on the offer and then he basically tried to seduce me, and there’s no way in hell that would work. So now I’m just wandering around the streets of San Francisco, thinking to myself that pretty much every guy I know is a complete dick. Including you. Maybe the biggest dick of them all. Now, I’m not saying you have the biggest dick—I’m saying that you are the biggest dick. There’s a difference.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “And you’re also not entirely wrong to be calling me that, because I deserve it, at least in part. I was really hoping—”

  “No,” I said. The carsick feeling I had returned, washing over me as I continued to walk down the street. Gross. I didn’t want to throw up, but I also knew that I was at the point where I might feel better if I did, if I just got it over with. How much wine did I have to drink? I couldn’t even remember at this point. “No, you don’t get to call the shots in this conversation. I didn’t call you up for you to talk to me about whatever it is you’re thinking about—I called you up just to remind you of what an asshole you are and how you really fucked this up. Because guess what, Ben, I’m a good person. I am. And I’m not too bad in bed either. And I actually felt pretty strongly about you and I really had fun when we were together. And now that’s all done and over with, but it wasn’t on my terms, so it sucks and it’s painful. I would’ve been a good girlfriend to you, but I guess you’ll never know now because—”

  There wasn’t any time to say why he’d never know because the vomit rose up in my throat faster than I would’ve thought possible and gushed its way out of my mouth. Fortunately, I was walking past a little alley so I managed to turn in time and not barf all over the main sidewalk where I surely would’ve gotten it on someone, at least a little splash on their shoes. I leaned against the wall as I heaved, the sound of the vomit splattering on the pavement making me feel even more sick.

  “Teagan? Teagan?” I still had the phone, but my hand was down by my side now. Ew, I had barf in my hair. Ben’s voice sounded tiny and very far away.

  I felt my knees buckling under me, but I didn’t care. I let myself slide down the side of the building onto the ground. Was I sitting in my own vomit? I didn’t think so, though I couldn’t be entirely sure. I could still hear Ben calling my name. Turned out I was wrong, too—I didn’t feel much better after puking. What I felt was plain exhausted, too tired to get up, too tired to even give a shit where I was, or what had happened. All I needed to do was take a little rest here, and that would make everything better. I wasn’t right out on the sidewalk; I was tucked down this little alley a bit—I wouldn’t be bothering anyone. It wasn’t like the streets of San Francisco weren’t full of homeless people sleeping wherever they wanted. If they could do it, then so could I, this one time, anyway.

  I burped, and tasted bile, but I didn’t vomit anymore. So I let my eyes close and told myself that I would just take a nap, and when I woke up, I’d feel better and I could figure out whatever the hell I was going to do then.

  ***

  “Teagan.”

  There was a disgusting taste in my mouth as I tried to open my eyes, but it felt like they had been cemented shut. Also, it felt like someone had poured sand down my throat. What the hell? My back hurt and my neck ached, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where I was.

  “Teagan.”

  And that voice. Someone was definitely saying my name. I struggled to open my eyes, and finally, finally, they obeyed. Just the tiniest bit at first, letting in a sliver of harsh daylight, everything else blurry. As I opened my eyes further, and things started to come into focus a little more, I remembered where I was: in some alleyway, after having puked all over the place. My eyes flew open the rest of the way. I still felt drunk, but at least I didn’t feel nauseous. Ben was crouched in front of me.

  “Ben?” I said, and in that moment I was too disoriented to remember that I was supposed to be mad at him. “What are you doing here?” I reached out, touched his face. “It’s really you.”

  The tiniest of smiles touched his lips. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s really me. And it’s really you, and you really need to get up. Come on.”

  He slid one of my arms around his shoulders and sort of hefted me up. My legs wobbled underneath me and the whole world shifted, but I managed to stay on my feet.

  “Steady,” he said. “Now, we’re going to get you home.”

  We hobbled out of the alleyway. “How did you know where I was?” Things were starting to come into better focus, and I was remembering exactly how I’d ended up there in the alley.

  “I was on the phone with you,” he said. “And then you started to throw up. But you didn’t disconnect the call, and someone picked up the phone after a minute and I asked where you were, and they told me.”

  “Someone? Just some random person?”

  “Yes. He said he was panhandling on the other corner and he saw the whole thing. You’re lucky he did, because who knows how long you would’ve been passed out in that alley for. Not safe.”

  There was a gently disapproving note in his voice, which did make me angry, because didn’t he realize this was all his fault? While it was true that no one had forced me to drink all that wine, I never would have done so if he hadn’t done what he did. There were so many things wrong with how he’d handled this entire situation that I couldn’t even believe it. I started listing them off as Ben hailed a taxi, and I continued to do so once in said taxi, and my list of grievances continued when we arrived at my apartment and Ben paid the driver, a middle-aged man of Middle Eastern descent.

  “Forgiveness,” the driver said, “is one of the greatest gifts you can give to yourself.” He smiled. “That’s a favorite quote of mine.”

  I knew he was trying to be helpful, but I glared at him. “That’s all good and everything,” I said, “but if you had any idea what this guy has done to me, you wouldn’t be so quick to tell me that I need to forgive him.”

  “I know a lot of what this man has done to you,” the cab driver said. “I heard all about it during our drive.”

  “And you still think I should forgive him.”

  “Don’t look at it as doing something for him; look at it as doing something for yourself. So many people think that forgiveness is giving something to the other person—which it is—but the greater thing it does is release you from the bonds of resentment and anger, which eventually turn to poison in the body. And hurt you. So, you see, by forgiving him, you are actually helping yourself.”

  “Ha!” I said. I fumbled with my purse, pulled my phone out, which had a little bit of dried vomit on the corner. Ben was standing on the sidewalk, one hand on the open door, peering in.

  “Everything okay?” he said.

  “Just wait a minute.”

  I scrolled through my phone, found Meredith’s post, and turned the screen to face the cab driver. He squinted at it.

  “I’m supposed to forgive this? This picture that was taken right after he told me he loved me?”

  The cab driver frowned, seemed to be considering this. “I’m not condoning infidelity,” he said finally.

  Feeling vindicated, I pulled my phone back, rummaged through my wallet, and extracted several bills. There were twenties, a few tens, I didn’t know how much, but I handed it to him.

  “Ma’am, the fare has already been paid,” he said.

  “All the same,” I said, and I slid out, shutting the door gently behind me.

  “What was that all about?” Ben asked.

  “Just exchanging some friendly advice. He was saying some bullshit about how I should forgive you. But that it would be more for myself than for you. So maybe I’m considering it. Not because I think you deserve it.”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  “You’re not coming in.”

  It felt good, actually, to have this flippant attitude, which I kn
ew wouldn’t be coming out if I wasn’t drunk. And while I might have wished that it didn’t take alcohol to lower my inhibitions enough to actually speak the truth, at least I was able to do it. Alcohol or not, everything I had said to Ben up until this point had been true.

  “If you truly feel that way, then I won’t,” Ben said, “but I’m hoping part of you is just saying that because you’re mad. I’d like to come up, because I think we need to talk; I would really appreciate it if you would listen to what I have to say. And I give you my word that I will leave after that.”

  I should not waver; I knew this. But I could feel my resolve faltering.

  Stay strong, girl, I thought, but I knew I couldn’t simply walk away, that I at least wanted to hear him apologize for this one more time. I could decide whether or not I was going to forgive him after that.

  “Fine,” I said. “You can come up and say whatever it is you need to say, and then you can go.”

  “Thank you.”

  He moved to help me up the steps, but I held a hand up. “I can do this myself,” I said. And I managed, somehow, on shaky legs, Ben behind me to catch me if I fell. Not that I needed him to, of course. It took me several tries to unlock my door, but when I finally did, I stumbled in, threw my purse down, and sprawled out on the couch.

  “Okay,” I said, sighing. “I feel better.”

  “Teagan.” Ben sat at the end of the couch.

  “I didn’t mean for you to have to come scrape me off the pavement.”

  “I’m glad it was me and not someone else. And, listen, Teagan. I want you to know that the last thing I have ever wanted to do was hurt you. So it’s really eating me up inside that that is exactly what happened. I’m not that sort of person. It’s truly up to you whether you want to forgive me or not. Of course I want you to, but only if you really feel that way. Now, can I please explain to you what happened?”

  “I’m not sure I really need to hear a replay of that night. It’s not something I want to relive.”