Betting On It

by Violet Blake

  “You’re not going to talk to me?” He hadn’t moved from his spot, his arms crossed, everything about him impassive.

  A glimpse of black material peeked out between his briefcase and the back of a chair. I walked over to it and plucked it off the chair. I put the cups over my breasts and reached behind me to clasp it. I missed the holes, but noticed him walking toward me, now in his jeans.

  “Stop,” I said. I couldn’t talk about it. I just didn’t have the heart. My chest hurt more than enough with what I already did know: this would never work.

  I wasn’t a total masochist.

  He stopped walking toward me. “You can’t leave like this.”

  “I can’t stay,” I said, my voice cracking. “I read way too much into things, and I screwed up. You’re not blameless, either, and I hate that you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on, but I…I just have to go. You need some time to figure things out, so I’m going to leave you to it.”

  My gaze landed on my dress, crumpled on the floor next to the trash bin. I practically ran to it, and yanked it over my head. Backward at first, damn it. I dragged my arms out of the sleeves, turned it, and let my arms slip through.

  The frustration gnawed at my nerves. Tears collected in my eyes. I would not let him see me cry. I just had to get out of here.

  I went for the door.

  He intercepted me just as my hand closed around the knob. “I don’t want to end things like this.”

  Like this. Which meant he wanted to end it, but in a different way.

  “Get out of my way.”

  “Blair, please.”

  I couldn’t look up at him. Instead, I focused on the lock. My focus turned to not completely losing it and becoming a sobbing mess. I could do that once I got off the mountain, but I would not do that here, not now. Especially not in front of him.

  “No way, Callahan. It’s—we’re over.” Emotion injected a level of vehemence into my voice I didn’t know I had. I met his eyes. Fuck it. If he saw me cry, he did. If I didn’t get him out of my way he’d probably see me bust through the back patio window like the Kool-Aid man so I could escape.

  “I’ve been telling you all along that I didn’t want this to be more than a bet. I made rules. Rules you insisted on breaking the entire time. And the moment I let things slip, you show up like Prince Fucking Charming and get under my skin. You take care of me when I’m sick, you invite me on vacations where you ask me to move in with you. And then you shut it all down when you can’t trust me enough to talk about whatever it is you’re dealing with, that you’re too scared to tell me.”

  “You don’t think I trust you?”

  “You’d rather let me leave than tell me the truth.” Unfortunately, I was on a roll. “This entire relationship has been one-sided. I’m the one who had to cave every single time to keep you. Do you know how hard that was, after everything my family’s done?”

  “Blair, you didn’t think—”

  “Stop. Look at you. I can tell you haven’t slept in a week, and you can’t even tell me why. I’ve told you everything about me that hurts. And you know what? I was fine before we started this. I was okay with not getting involved, without being in love, just keeping it all in. But I changed because of you, and now I am most certainly not fine.”

  “That’s not how I meant for it to happen,” he said. “You surprised me. You didn’t believe in me.”

  “How was I supposed to know what would happen? I thought I was doing the right thing.” I wiped tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand.

  I decided right then I couldn’t stick around to pack my clothes properly. He could chuck my belongings if he wanted. No way would I stay up here any longer than I had to.

  “Give me your keys,” I said.

  “My keys?”

  I held out my hand. “Yes. Your keys.”

  He shook his head. “Why do you want them?”

  “Because I can’t stand being here anymore, and I need to get out of here.”

  “It’s after midnight.”

  “If you don’t give me your keys I’m going to get Jessica’s, and she’ll probably round up your family to do some sort of intervention. Or maybe I’ll just skip the drama and perform my very first carjacking. Either way, I’m leaving. Tonight.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “It’s not safe. Stay. You can have my room, I’ll—”

  I clenched my hands into fists, willing my emotion to stay safely inside.

  He reached into his pocket and took them out.

  I grabbed them. “I know you’re just being a douche because you’re scared. So when you’re ready to talk to me, to trust me…” I shook my head. “Never mind. Good-bye, Sawyer. Good luck with everything.”

  He stepped aside, and I sped out, not caring about anything but making my escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Numb. I felt numb. I couldn’t even cry anymore. Seriously, somebody could just stick a fork in me, I was that done.

  I’d dropped off Sawyer’s car at his house and put his keys in his mail slot, then sent a quick text to let him know where he could find them. After that, I walked home.

  And yeah, I know walking in the middle of the night wasn’t safe. Hello, mugging? But I was throwing off all sorts of don’t-fuck-with-me vibes, and people cleared the way for me all the way to my apartment.

  Now I lay in bed, unable to sleep and staring up at the ceiling. Keegan’s party raged upstairs, loud bass shaking the windows.

  What the hell had happened? Was this my reward for finally finding my little slice of happiness? For going for what I wanted? If that was the case, the universe could find the biggest black hole in existence and shove my hopes for happiness up its ass.

  I did the next best thing and decided to focus on getting my car fixed. No more accepting rides from Sawyer or walking all over the place. Besides, I didn’t know if I’d even have a job after this week. Not for certain, anyway.

  The only way for me to finance getting my car fixed circled my right ring finger. The emerald-cut ruby was bigger than my pinkie nail and rimmed by tiny round diamonds. With any luck I could pawn it for a few thousand, which was enough to fix my car and take care of my outstanding bills.

  I hated to give up something my grandmother had given me. It killed me. But at this point, I didn’t have a choice. I needed a car, and needed for everybody to stop breathing down my neck.

  And then, when I had enough money saved up, I’d find a new city to live in and get the hell out of here.

  ...

  Several hours later I walked out of the jewelry store. Of course I’d gotten ripped off. But I was finally getting somewhere. Next I called the mechanic, who’d been happy to tow my car from my place and put me on the schedule for the next day when I promised cash. So there you have it. That was two things down for the day. Two things that distracted me from having to think about—or come to terms with—what had happened almost twelve hours ago. I hadn’t cried since I woke up, not even a sniffle. Like everything else that was crappy in my life, I accepted it and moved on.

  Sawyer didn’t come by Sunday. He didn’t call, either. But come Monday I had other things to keep me busy, like work. This coming Friday was the big ultimate day, the one where I’d either be given the keys to the palace or be dragged away by security. At least I knew what to expect in either case.

  Problem is, staying in Colorado no longer held appeal for me.

  Yeah, my dearest friend in the universe lived here, and yeah, I needed her now more than ever. But she was part of the big Callahan package. A package that included one six-foot-four-inch vessel of misery.

  At the moment, though, I needed to concentrate on work. Once I got through this week my mind would be clearer and I’d know whether or not it was worth staying.

  For the next three days I worked as late as I could, dragged my tired carcass home, ate, painted until my fingers shook, then dragged myself to bed. Between all that I ignored texts
from my mom, finally deciding to block her.

  I didn’t sleep. Memories of what he’d said flew through my mind at warp speed, to the point that sleep became impossible. So the next morning, I’d wake up, rinse, lather, and repeat.

  Jess called every night after dinner, and texted me throughout every day, and I put on a show of letting her know I was good—better than good—and assured her every night that she had nothing to worry about. I pretended I was so swamped with work that I couldn’t talk long, or see her. That would only make me do the one thing I didn’t want to do: accept and grieve.

  But Friday was different.

  My performance evaluation was today, and Victoria had pretty much told me the job was mine. I walked into the office, rode the elevator, and a few minutes later was sitting in my cubical.

  Something was off. Fridays were usually pretty lax, with everybody flitting around semi-working, but mostly counting down to 5 p.m. Nobody was chatting, and everybody kept their heads down.

  Eva glanced at me, and I pounced. “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  She shook her head a little, then bent toward me. “I have no idea. Something big is all I know.”

  I peeked over the top of my cubicle. All the management office doors were shut, and the conference room blinds drawn. I sat back down. I opened up my email and tried to ignore the eerie silence. Speculation would get me nowhere and would only add to my already fever pitch anxiety. Besides, with Victoria behind closed doors, there was no chance I’d be getting my evaluation today.

  I found an email from her that was sent around 7 p.m. last night that asked me to text her when I came in. That was it. No salutation, no niceties, nothing. She must’ve been freaking out over whatever was going on. I felt bad for her, but I couldn’t ignore the weird feeling. So I texted her and told her I was available. Within a few seconds she replied to ask me to come to her office.

  Any worries I’d had took seed and sprouted.

  I tried to shake it off, but my hands were cold and tingling. I grabbed a notebook, my phone, and a few files I’d been working on. Quietly, I knocked on her door.

  “Come in, Blair.”

  “Good morning,” I said, and walked to one of the club chairs.

  Victoria gestured to our company president. “Blair, I’d like to introduce you to Rich Watson, CEO of Watson & Associates.”

  I shook his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  He relaxed into his seat and folded his hands over his knee. “We’ve had some interesting developments over the last twenty-four hours, Blair.” His smile came across as something closer to a leer. Downright predatory, really. “Thing is, we had an interesting proposition come through, and it’s unprecedented for us, but let’s be honest. The money is…” He made an exploding gesture with his hands.

  I blinked. So they did have enough money to hire me? “That sounds like a good thing, right?”

  Victoria and Rich nodded simultaneously, dollar signs reflecting in their eyes. This must be awesome.

  Victoria leaned forward. “Last Friday Rich received a call from your mother. She’s running for Senate, and while we don’t specialize in political campaigns, she thinks we can offer a fresh perspective on her campaign.”

  Fuck.

  Of course. Why would I begin to think I could do my own thing without her involvement? She’d taken credit for everything else in my life, so I guess it only made sense for her to ingratiate herself into the one thing she hadn’t taken control of.

  “That sounds intriguing,” I said, swallowing the bitterness. Despite the circumstances, I had to remain calm on the outside. If they had any inkling something was up between Mom and I, who knew what would happen?

  “You’re still a very junior member of our team,” Rich said. “But over the last three months you’ve more than proven yourself, and we think you’d do great. You already know the ins and outs of a campaign. Hell, you’ve been a part of every campaign your mother’s been in since birth. We think you’ll have some insights that will be invaluable.”

  I fought to keep that politician’s daughter smile in place. “I…I really appreciate this, I do. I just—I know this is going to sound ungrateful, but isn’t it a conflict of interest for me to get this account that my mom’s paying for? I’m not even a permanent employee here. Won’t that cause…issues?”

  Rich frowned, giving me an undiluted is-she-stupid? type of look. “Not at all. Well, yes, I’m sure you’ll endure a bit of professional jealousy. But to counter some of that, you and I will put together a team of young, fresh talent to handle the campaign.”

  “And,” Victoria said, “you will be a co-manager on the account. I will personally mentor you throughout the process, and we’ll split the take fifty-fifty.”

  “O-okay,” I said. “That’s perfect.”

  If perfect meant perfectly shitty. Not that I didn’t respect Victoria and want to learn everything I could under her eye. She was awesome. But not like this.

  Victoria nodded. “Which leads to the fun part. I’ve been looking forward to this day for quite some time, but the campaign just sweetens the deal even more. Blair Bartlett, we are thrilled to officially welcome you to the team at Watson & Associates.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m so grateful for the opportunity.”

  “Great,” Rich said, clapping his hands. “Let’s celebrate.”

  ...

  When 5 p.m. rolled around, I met up with the girls for our Friday afternoon drinks. But only because Jessica threatened me with dismemberment if I didn’t show up. I walked into our usual pub and found them waiting.

  I waved and marched over to our table, ordered a Bloody Mary, and said hello to everybody.

  “So…” Emily looked at me expectantly.

  “So…?” I repeated.

  “Are we celebrating or comforting?” she asked.

  “The job,” Jessica prompted.

  Not that I had any delusions that she was letting me off the hook as far as Sawyer was concerned. “Ah. Celebrating. Sort of.”

  Jessica gave me an arch look. “Which means what?”

  I filled them in—after swearing them to secrecy—on what’d happened at work that day.

  Emily slugged down the rest of her doctored Pepsi. “Basically you got what you wanted, but Mommy Dearest still has control of your happiness.”

  “Exactly,” I said, wilting into the booth. “It’s not like I can just walk away from an opportunity like this. And get this—they gave me the top pay in the entry-level position, and promised a review every three months based on my performance.”

  “Wow,” Jessica said.

  “I didn’t want it like this.” I stared at my full drink, the ice cubes melting at the top and diluting the juice.

  “No matter what,” Jessica said, “the success you achieve is yours. She might pay the invoices and she might’ve been your ‘in,’ but they would be shooting themselves in the foot to take on somebody who couldn’t handle that type of media campaign. You were the one who got the job there. You paid the dues. You did the work.”

  “Don’t let it get you down,” Emily said, nodding. “People you work with will watch you more closely, you’ll take some punches here and there, but keep your head in the game and they’ll know it’s all you.”

  “Thanks, guys,” I said. “You know I don’t deserve you.”

  “Sure you do,” Jess said. “Now for a toast.”

  “To kick-ass ladies,” Emily said.

  I could toast to that.

  “Which leads me to our bet,” Emily said.

  I was going to throw up. Clearly Jessica hadn’t had a chance to fill her in.

  “I, um, lost,” I said. “Not going to happen. I’m done.”

  Emily shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I know what happened last weekend, and we’ve decided to call it off.”

  Oh. Now they tell me. “No, a bet’s a bet.”

  Emily’s mouth fell open. “We were never going to make you
do it anyway.”

  “She’s right,” Jessica said. “You needed a little push and you more than lived up to the challenge. Besides, after what happened, we can’t possibly expect you to—”

  “I already dropped off the painting.” I didn’t tell them I’d done it last Friday, or that’s why Sawyer and I had broken up.

  “Fuck me,” Jessica breathed.

  “Might have to now that I don’t have a man in my life,” I said.

  Her fair skin fading even paler than usual, Emily said, “I can’t believe you really did it.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, well, now all of Fort Collins is going to know what my boobs look like. BFD.”

  “Are you going to the auction?” Emily asked.

  “Hell, no.” Of all the unknowns in my life, that at least was a sure thing.

  She stirred her drink with her straw. “We’ll pool our money and make sure we bid the highest. I’m seriously squicked out by the idea of some creepy guy having it in his house to jack off to.”

  Jessica choked on her drink, and Emily slapped her on the back. “I will clear out my savings if I have to.”

  I shook my head. “I honestly don’t think anyone will know it’s me unless I stand right next to it.”

  Jessica coughed and recovered from her choking. “No, really. We need to buy it. I guess we can pass it around between the three of us.”

  “What? Like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Boobies?” I said.

  When the laughter died down, we sat and drank in silence for a while. The elephant in the room should probably come out at some point, and I knew they wouldn’t bring it up. So it was up to me. Yay.

  “So,” I began. “Before things get all weird, I should probably just come out and say it. Things are probably going to be kind of awkward for a while, what with the whole breakup thing.”

  Jessica nodded and smiled in the same way a doctor would after he’d given a patient a terminal diagnosis. “We don’t have to change anything. You’re my BFF to the end.”

  “Me, too,” Emily said.

  “All I ask is that you give me a heads up if you know he’s going to be joining you for anything,” I said. “Maybe we’ll get over it at some point, right?”