by S. J. Bishop
And just like that he completely disappointed me once more. Was he really so cold? So stupid as to think he was helping his case? If he could have shown some sense of his own failings, I might have listened to him now. I might even have forgiven him, but he didn’t seem to be capable of understanding how I might be feeling. It was ironic and pathetic. He admitted to me that he was jealous of my “boyfriend” and yet he couldn’t comprehend why I might be hurt by the fact that he’d slept with me while engaged to another woman?
"Just go, Carter, please." Tears streamed down my cheeks and Carter finally stood up. I watched him leave then sat on the couch in my living room, with my head buried in my hands. Lily came out of her room, rubbing her eyes. The sun had only been up for an hour or so.
"Mommy," Lily said, seeing me on the couch. "Why sad?" She wrapped her arms around me and held me as tight as her little arms could. I fought back the urge to break into sobs. I had an overwhelming urge to protect her, yet my pride had prevented me from asking Carter for help, one more time. Well, my pride and his lies.
"I’m not sad, baby," I lied. "I’m just... tired. That’s all."
But Lily wasn’t convinced. She may only have been three, but she knew sad when she saw it. She just sat next to me, holding my hand. I wanted to stay strong for her more than anything else. But her sweet desire to comfort me, when I should be the one offering her support, was more than I could take. The sobs came and Lily sat holding my hand until the tears finally subsided.
22
Carter
I was mad at Ava, I was mad at Olivia, I was mad at myself. Why hadn’t I put Olivia on a plane last night and sent her back to L.A.? Why couldn’t Ava let me explain? I had only proposed to Olivia when I was drunk. Actually, we’d both been drunk and out on the town for the night. It had been a spur of the moment decision and so long ago I’d pretty much forgotten it. We’d broken up again the very next day and I’d gone out with that actress—what was her name?—for a month. Olivia had gone out with another football player from the Oakland Raiders, just to mess with me.
Though Olivia and I had gotten together again since then, we’d also broken up half a dozen times since then too. I didn’t even know she still had that darn ring. She’d never worn it or shown it to anyone as far as I knew.
Ava didn’t want to hear it so I left without another word. Anything I tried to say just seemed to be making things worse right now.
When I got to my parents’ house I stormed right up to Olivia’s room and threw open the door. Hannah was in there with Olivia, as was Erik Rudolphe, Hannah’s fiancé. I had completely forgotten that Hannah said Erik would be arriving today with Axel. Axel was gonna be pissed that I forgot about him.
"Hey, Carter," Erik said, grinning and extending his hand. He wore a pair of designer eyeglasses that must have cost upwards of $500. Erik didn’t even need glasses. He had 20/20 vision—a little tidbit of information that Hannah had shared with me earlier in their relationship.
I’d never liked Erik. He was an obnoxious loudmouth who always had to have his way. Erik thought he was better than everyone. Also, his movies sucked. He was a lousy director. I’d voiced my opinion to Hannah when she’d first started dating him—not about the movies; I’d left that part out seeing as how Hannah had starred in two of them. But after things had gotten serious between the two of them, I’d stopped being so critical of Erik. I didn’t want to be constantly arguing with Hannah over her relationship with him.
Axel jumped out from behind me just then, attempting to tackle me to the ground. Axel was 6'2" inches tall, with dark hair and striking blue eyes. We’d been best buds since joining San Francisco. I wasn't sure how I’d get by next season with Axel in Denver.
Now, however, I was in no mood to entertain. I was on a mission. "Hi," I snapped at Axel, who quickly put his hand down from the high five he'd been seeking. "Get out," I barked at Hannah.
"What’s with you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. I could see she was already getting herself worked up. Hannah liked to argue.
"Nothing. Get out. Please. I need to talk to Olivia." I glanced over at Olivia who smiled sweetly at me.
Hannah looked like she was ready to argue, but then she looked at Erik and seemed to think twice about whether or not it was worth it. I guess he was good for something. If he hadn’t been here, Hannah probably would have made a scene and then I’d have both her and Olivia to contend with.
My sister rose from the chair she’d been sitting on and dragged Erik along behind her. "Whatever man," Axel said. "I'm going to get me some pussy. Even this town must have bars. I'll catch up with you later."
"Fine," Hannah said, turning to Olivia. "Just don’t break up again till after the wedding, okay? I need a maid of honor who’s going to be happy, not depressed." I loved my sister but she had an uncanny ability to make everything about her.
Olivia shrugged. "I’m not going anywhere," she said, winking at Hannah.
Hannah looked at me once more, with suspicion. I wondered if she had any clue as to what I was so worked up about. I doubted she and Ava talked, but maybe Olivia had told her about our dinner outing and the fact that I’d never come home last night. Hannah had a weird sort of intuition when it came to other people’s affairs. I was willing to bet she would be on to me in a matter of hours if she didn’t already suspect what was up.
When Hannah had finally gone, I rounded on Olivia.
"What the hell were you thinking sending me those pictures?"
She looked genuinely surprised. "I thought you’d like them. Why are you so mad?"
I opened my mouth then shut it again, suddenly aware that I didn’t really have a good answer to that question unless I was ready to tell her about Ava.
"Because the press could have gotten a hold of them," I finally said. "And besides, those pictures make it look like we’re engaged, which we’re not."
"Oh come on Carter," Olivia said, standing and walking slowly towards me. "Why not? You gave me the ring."
"Yeah, and we broke up the very next day."
She shrugged. "You’ve never asked for it back. I just assumed the offer was still good."
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was playing me now. Olivia knew perfectly well there was nothing to that engagement. Why was she suddenly determined to behave as if this were an old secret we’d settled upon keeping until the right moment to spring it?
"Where were you last night?" Olivia suddenly asked. And finally everything made perfect sense. The naked pictures, the ring, Olivia was jealous.
"Out," I replied.
"Out where? Not with that slut?"
"I don’t know any sluts. Except maybe for you." If there was one thing I didn’t like, it was being manipulated. Olivia didn’t love me and yet I continued to go back to her, for the excitement, for the prestige of being with a supermodel. But when I stripped that away, what did the two of us really have?
Her eyes widened and I wondered if maybe I’d gone too far. She didn’t really deserve that last remark. After all, I wasn’t any better than she was.
"So what is this?" Olivia asked. "Are you breaking up with me? For good?"
"Yes. No. I don’t know." Why wasn’t this easier? I didn’t even really like Olivia, but she was the only consistent thing in my life. Yes, we broke up time and time again, but she was always there for me when I needed someone. And Ava was acting so strange. I couldn’t tell whether she really liked me or whether she was just lonely. When I left Dover Chase and went back to San Francisco, who was most likely to still be around? Ava, who seemed as though she’d never leave this place, or Olivia, who’d already traveled the world with and without me.
Olivia sighed and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Honey," she said sweetly—a little too sweetly, "you don’t need to make any decisions right now. You look tired, why don’t you go lie down?"
I consented, more to get away from her than anything else. I left Olivia and went to my room to be alone, but I couldn’t
shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow, I was making a huge mistake.
23
Ava
I walked into Piccadilly’s still reeling from my fight with Carter. The nerve of him! But could I really blame him entirely? I knew that Olivia was not out of the picture, yet I’d slept with Carter again anyways. Oh sure, I had tried to convince myself that Carter cared for me and only for me, but he hadn’t exactly told me that, had he?
Still... engaged? It was one thing to be in an on again off again relationship with someone –like what Carter and Olivia’s relationship seemed to be if one believed the tabloids—but to be engaged to that person... did that make me a homewrecker?
I shuddered as the door closed behind me and paused. Something wasn’t right. Waiters and waitresses were huddled together in small groups in deep discussion. Though we were open for business, only a handful of people sat around eating, and those people kept watching the scene before them. I saw Terri in one corner of the restaurant, her face white. Myron was in the opposite corner. He came up to me when he saw me.
"Myron, what’s going on?" Then a thought struck me. I remembered my phone call with Mrs. Brewer. Our boss had been in an accident. "Did Mr. Brewer... did he die?" I hadn’t cared much for him, especially not after the way he’d propositioned me, but that didn’t mean I wanted him dead.
"No," Myron said. "He was in a car accident. The police are investigating it." He looked away and scanned the room.
"Investigating? Why? Was it a hit and run or something?"
Myron shrugged. "Not really sure. They haven’t told us anything yet. We’re all just waiting around to be questioned. They’re questioning everyone. Hey," he looked at me suddenly, his eyes bright, a smile on his face, "how’s that class you’ve been taking? The online one? You know, I could help you study for tests and things. I’m real good with stuff like that."
I wondered what could make Myron think of a thing like that at a time like this. I didn’t even remember telling him about that class. "I dropped it," I said, turning away from him. The words left a bitter taste in my throat. I wasn’t in the mood discuss it.
"Ava," Steven, my assistant manager, shouted from across the restaurant. A policeman stood beside him. All eyes turned to me. Steven waved me towards him. I looked at Myron and shrugged.
"Hi, Steven," I said, my eyes moving to the policeman beside him.
"Ava, could you step into the office a moment please?"
"Er, sure," I said. "Should I clock in first?" I was curious what they wanted to talk to me about, but I was more concerned about not getting paid.
"Yeah," Steven said. "Go ahead and clock in then come into my office. Don’t knock, just come in, okay?"
I nodded and turned, hiding the smirk on my face. I couldn’t believe Steven had just referred to it as "his office." It was Mr. Brewster’s office, and I was pretty sure Mr. Brewster wouldn’t care for the implication that Steven was now in charge. Unless of course... I’d been right and Mr. Brewster had died. But that wasn’t possible.
When I returned to the office and stepped inside, there were three men in there who I didn’t recognize. One was the uniformed policeman I’d seen standing next to Steven. The other two were detectives. I was no expert, but I’d watched enough crime drama on TV to know a detective when I saw one. They always wore suits and had close-cropped hair and were clean-shaven.
"Ava Hart?" one of the detectives asked. I nodded. "I’m Detective Reynolds, this is Detective White. We’re investigating a car accident involving your boss, Mr. Brewster."
I stared blankly at them. What could this have to do with me?
The detectives looked at each other."Do you know Carter Stone?" the second detective asked.
"Yes."
"We understand you were with him at the hospital after his own car accident."
"I was at the hospital with my daughter when Carter—Mr. Stone—was brought in. Why?" I didn’t like being questioned like this, especially without understanding why they were questioning me.
"Mr. Stone claimed that his brakes had failed him and that was the reason for his accident."
I waited. I already knew this.
The detectives sighed. "Mr. Brewster’s claiming the same thing happened to him."
"Are you saying..." My heart started to pound. "Are you saying that someone tried to kill Mr. Brewster... on purpose? And Carter too?"
Detective Reynolds leaned in towards her. "The fact is, Miss Hart, we’ve checked the brakes on both cars, and it looks as though someone has tampered with them."
I couldn’t believe what they were saying. "Have you talked to Carter?"
"Someone’s talking to him now," Detective White said.
I leaned back in my chair. "So why are you talking to me? You don’t think that I...?"
"No, no," both detectives jumped in at once. "It’s only that you know both victims and we thought you might have something useful to contribute to the investigation. Perhaps you know of a common enemy they both share?" They looked at me hopefully, and I realized they were at a standstill in their investigation. They must not have any leads.
"I’m sorry. I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt them both. I’m sorry." It seemed so absurd. This was Dover Chase, sure there were barroom brawls—Carter didn’t have a monopoly on getting drunk and stupid—but people didn’t try to kill people here.
Detective Reynolds removed a card from his pocket. "It’s alright, Miss Hart. If you do think of anything, please don’t hesitate to call us."
"I will." The detectives excused me and I walked back out to the floor. Terri and Myron both came running up to me.
"Well?" Terri breathed. "Is it true? Did someone really try to kill Mr. Brewster?"
"Yes," I said, still reeling from the news.
Myron let out a long, low whistle. "Gee," he said. "That’s too bad. What kind of monster would do something like that?" But something about Myron’s tone made it appear he wasn’t entirely sad to hear the news.
24
Carter
The police left and I stood staring at the wall. I couldn’t believe what they’d spent the last twenty minutes talking to me about. Cut brake lines? I felt like I was getting punked. I kept looking around to see if anyone was going to jump out at me with a camera and a microphone. They couldn’t be serious. I couldn’t think of anyone who wanted to kill me.
I laughed immediately at the naiveté of my thinking. Who was I trying to kid anyhow, except maybe myself? I’d had a lot of fights and made a lot of enemies. Ava was right. I drank way too much and I got into trouble every time I did. There was probably a list a mile long of people who would like to see me dead, including some of my teammates and even a few girls.
The door to my bedroom banged open just then and Hannah came barging in. "What’s going on?" she demanded.
I told her what the police had said about the cut brake lines.
"The police think someone tried to kill you?" she asked. Her face paled. "I didn’t even know the cops were here. When did they leave?"
I was confused; why had she come into my room demanding to know what happened if she didn’t know about the police? "You didn’t know they were here?"
She swatted my arm. "Serves you right," she said. "I’ve told you time and again to stop picking fights with people. Now look what’s happened!"
I stared at her with disbelief. "What the hell? Someone tries to kill me and you act like it’s my fault."
"It probably is," she retorted. Something had gotten under her skin. "Now are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I gonna have to... to... hide your car keys till you do?"
"They’re not my car keys, they’re Dad’s, remember? I crashed my car when someone cut my brake lines." I didn’t know what had gotten into Hannah but she wasn’t making any sense. "And what exactly is it you want to know, if it’s not about the police?"
"Olivia came to talk to me," she said.
"Oh?" I wondered whether Olivia had r
eally gone to talk to Hannah, or whether Hannah had sought out Olivia to pry out some information. "So what?"
"She says you’re having an affair with Ava. Is that true?" Hannah’s eyes were wide. I knew my sister well enough to understand that she was both angry at the idea I could be keeping something like this from her, and angry at the idea I had somehow seduced her old best friend.
I hesitated, not sure of what to say. It seemed best to avoid the subject altogether if possible. "I tell you someone tried to kill me, and all you’re worried about is my sex life? That’s twisted Hannah, even for you."
I turned my back to her and she almost fell for it. "I am worried about you. Of course I don’t want you dead." She came around to face me and saw the smirk on my face. Now I was screwed. "But I want to know what’s happening between you and Ava. Now."
"Why do you care?" I asked, turning back around and facing her. "You haven’t even talked to Ava in like three years. Suddenly you’re best buds again?"
"Hey, I tried to keep in touch," Hannah shouted, defending herself. "Ava’s the one who blew me off. I’ve never understood why, till now."
"What does that mean?" I asked, my face going red.
"It means that she must’ve realized then what a demented individual you are."
"What exactly did Olivia tell you?"
"That you’ve been running around with Ava behind her back. That you’ve probably been having an affair for years."
I erupted with laugher. "Hannah, I haven’t seen Ava in the last three years any more than you have."
Hannah took a deep breath. "So it’s not true then? You’re not sleeping with Ava?"
I hesitated for just a moment and Hannah caught it. "No," I said. "No, of course not. Olivia’s just jealous because... because she’s Olivia. She’s always jealous of someone or something."
"I’ve never seen her jealous like this before."