Betting On It

by Violet Blake

  He was right. I opened the door, yanked the painting from his grasp, and slammed it shut. “Thanks. You can go away now.”

  “Okay,” he said, his words ending on a harsh chuckle. “I deserved that. I just wanted you to have it.”

  My eyes filled with stupid tears. Why was he here? Couldn’t he just leave me alone? Had he tag-teamed it with my mom or something?

  Anger tore through me. “What are you doing?”

  “I just want to talk. And to make sure you got the painting.”

  I glared at my door and peered at him through the peephole. I hadn’t allowed myself to look at him when I answered. I wished I hadn’t allowed it now. Despite the tux, the recent close shave, the hero hairdo, he didn’t look well. “You could’ve saved yourself a few hundred bucks and let Jessica take care of it.”

  “If you’re not going to listen to me under conventional terms, pardon me if I have to take desperate measures.”

  “There’s nothing to say,” I practically shouted. “You couldn’t have made it any more obvious how you felt last week. If you’re here to apologize you’re wasting your time.”

  “Just hear me out. Please. I know I screwed everything up but I want to make it right again.”

  The party got louder in the hallway, and a door slammed. Keegan’s voice sounded. “Hey, bruh. You want a beer?”

  “Uh, no thanks…bruh,” Sawyer answered.

  “No worries,” Keegan said. “Here’s a snack for you, man.”

  “Thanks, man,” Sawyer replied, and I heard the sound of a bag opening.

  I picked up where we’d left off. “Again? There is no again. There was a bet and an agreement. I forfeited the agreement and lost the bet.” I lost you. “Enough said.”

  I turned to walk away. I couldn’t take any more.

  “It was never just a bet for me,” he said. “It was real for me. It still is, and all I wanted to do was help. That’s what people do for the people they love.”

  Love? How much crack had he smoked tonight? Asshole.

  “Stop trying to rescue me. I don’t need it. I sure as hell don’t need you.” Tears stung my eyes, but I held my ground. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Not until you listen to what I have to say,” he said. “I’m going to stay out here until you listen to me. The guys next door already gave me a bag of chips. I’m good for a while.”

  Damn it.

  “You have thirty seconds,” I allowed.

  “Are you going to open the door?”

  “No.” But I couldn’t resist peeking through the peephole. He held a bag of Doritos—which contrasted hilariously with his tux—and leaned his back against the wall. Hair that had been immaculate when he’d first arrived now whipped around his head. Although I had the biggest thing for hipster Sawyer, seeing him all dressed up did seriously wicked things to my libido.

  I closed my eyes and turned away. Stop. Not the time for this, you horny dumbass.

  The light coming in from the peephole darkened. “Blair, I’m sorry for everything. I have…things I’m working through, and they all came to a head last weekend. I was scared of what you would think when I told you the truth.”

  I crossed my arms rubbing my hands on my biceps to warm them. “You don’t think I was scared when I told you all the things about me? I did it, even though it was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.”

  “I know. And I’m so sorry. Just let me make it up to you. Tell me we still have a chance.”

  I swallowed and twisted away. “This is the worst possible time,” I said, remembering my conversation with my mother.

  “Then tomorrow,” he said.

  “I’m moving back to Boston soon,” I clarified, the reality of that situation making me sink further into despair. “We can talk all we want, but no matter what we want, I have to go back.”

  You could’ve sucked the oxygen out of the city. I heard a loud thump against the door and I peeked through the hole again, seeing what I could only describe as astonishment. “You serious?”

  “I have no choice. Whatever we thought we had? It’s over. Thanks for the painting.”

  Before he could protest, I was already running to my bedroom.

  Sleep was impossible, between the sounds coming from the party and my visits from Sawyer and my mother. Eventually I gave up, and I ended up watching videos of dorky cats on YouTube. Clicking link after link, I followed the suggested videos down a very strange path. One thing lead to another, and as the sun was rising, I’d come up with a plan. It was stupid, it was dangerous, it was fighting fire with fire…it was my only hope.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sunday afternoon I suited up for lunch with my mother. I dressed in a frilly pink tulle dress and black ballet flats, put on light pink makeup, and left my hair down to curl. Not exactly armor, but it would at least get her off my back.

  Resentment over my conversation with Sawyer last night soured my gut. This was for the best, really. The further I got in with him, let myself feel for him, the worse it would hurt when my mom yanked it all away again. Who knew what levels she’d sink to if he got in the way?

  This was for the best.

  Besides, if my plan for our meeting this afternoon crashed and burned, I didn’t want anybody else to be caught in the crossfire. I figured it was enough to get me out of hot water for a short amount of time, but probably not more than that.

  We’d planned to meet up at a quiet restaurant in downtown, and I’d reserved a table in the far corner, where we’d have privacy. She greeted me at the door, wearing a designer red suit.

  I let her hug and air kiss me to show the world how much she cared, and we walked back to our table.

  “Wouldn’t you rather sit near to the window? We can people watch,” she said. Her expression soured. “You look as if you haven’t slept in a month. I’ll book you for a trip to the spa before I leave town. I can’t have you looking so strung out.”

  Brushing off her spa comment, I shook my head. “I thought we could have more privacy back here. You know, to discuss the strategy for the campaign.”

  She nodded and took her seat across from me. “I’m pleased you called for a meeting before I left town tonight,” she said.

  “I felt that it was important we meet in person before work begins.” I pulled out my phone and tapped on the app I wanted, hoping she couldn’t detect the tremble in my fingers.

  “You’re not going to text at the table all evening, are you, Blair?”

  I tapped the screen and set the phone on the table. “Sorry, no. Just had to check something.”

  She gave me a nod so brief, so curt, it was practically nonexistent. “Have you thought about who you’d like to add to the team?”

  I nodded and focused my attention on my opponent. This had to work. It had to. If it didn’t, the people I loved could lose everything. “Victoria and I have come up with some names. If they can handle the travel it would involve, we should be good to go.”

  “Do they understand what this campaign means to their futures? Surely they can clear their schedules.”

  “Some people have families that need attention, Mom. They can’t drop everything, even if you are the most important thing since Jesus.”

  She laughed, but irritation hardened her eyes. “Of course not.”

  “When you called Rich, did you tell him it had to be me specifically to lead the campaign?” I asked.

  “I mentioned you were a part of the office, and he was all too happy to suggest you join the team. People are always willing to pull a few strings when I’m on the phone.”

  “I see. But what if I had been unwilling to join your team? Our relationship over the last few months hasn’t been great, and I made it clear last we spoke I didn’t want anything from you.”

  “What does this have to do with anything, dear?”

  “I just want to understand a few things, clear the air before we move ahead with this. You want us to spend quite a bit of time together over
the next several months. You told me yesterday that if I didn’t go along with your plans you would screw over the rest of the people at the firm, and Callahan Brewery.”

  “I didn’t speak so crassly, but I suppose those who’d been chosen would’ve been greatly disappointed that you didn’t want to be a team player,” she said. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you getting at?”

  “Did you or did you not say that? Did I misunderstand what you said? Because you were pretty clear about me having to play by your rules or you’d make a few calls and make sure they didn’t walk out unscathed.”

  “Blair, you have to understand that I do what I need to to protect my interests, even if I have to go about it in what you think is the wrong way. What would people think of me if I have a sext-happy daughter I’m estranged from? We need to show the world we’re close, that I’m a family woman, and that you’re not a slut.”

  Ouch. Moving on.

  “But family doesn’t mean threats,” I said. “You told me if I didn’t play by your rules and be on your team, move to Boston, travel with you to your events I’d not only ruin everything for the firm, but that you’d take down Callahan Brewery, too.”

  “I will do what ever it takes to win,” she said, leaning closer to me and speaking in a hushed, hissing tone. “Go with my plans, and your friends at the brewery will have no idea any of this happened.”

  “Okay, but how are you going to explain away taking away my trust fund when I didn’t marry the man you wanted me to?”

  “Nobody knows about the trust fund.”

  “I know,” I said, and delivered the best punch line of the night. “Because I called the attorney who handles it, and he says you have no legal right to that money. Your name was on the account with mine because you were my parent, but now that I’m an adult you have no right to it anymore.”

  Her face hardened to a milky white stone. “You called him?”

  I nodded. “We had quite the chat. Funny that you wiped out everything in that account, isn’t it? I mean, the trust is still there, still depositing funds, but everything that was mine, that was in that account? Gone. Where did it go?”

  “You can’t—”

  “How do you think grand larceny from your daughter would look, Mom? You know they’re going to thoroughly vet your finances, make you open up the books. If I decide to call the police and press charges, you could, you know, go to prison.”

  “I would tread very lightly if I were you, Blair.”

  “I’ve done that for the last twenty-three years, Mother. But the thing is, with bullies, they get worse and worse until you turn around and offer them the other cheek,” I said.

  “You’re too nice. You run from conflict, darling. It’s just how you are.”

  “Maybe before, but you messed with the wrong people. I’m no longer running, and I doubt the Callahans going to be terribly happy to hear what you’ve threatened, either.”

  “They’ll never believe you.” She closed her menu with a snap that reverberated throughout the room. “Nobody will believe you if you tell them. Try it. See what happens.”

  I held up my phone and tapped the screen, thanking all the stars in the sky that the record feature had held up the entire time. I showed her the screen. “They will now.”

  Her skin went from white to a red that rivaled her dress. “Give me that.”

  “I can’t believe you fell for this. Weren’t you the one who always warned me to be on my best behavior because you never knew who was watching, listening, or recording?” I didn’t bother to hide my triumph. I doused her in it, soaking her to the core with it. With my smile I lit the proverbial match that would burn down her house of cards.

  “Hand it over.”

  I held the phone up, letting her see that it was still recording. “I totally see the irony, but last night I couldn’t sleep. I weighed the pros and cons of those pictures getting out, and read stories of women who’ve had pictures like that get out before.”

  “You actually thought about it?”

  “Why not? I figured I had a few choices. One was your choice, to let you—as well as the person who blackmailed you—have control over me. Two was to release the pictures on my own and take both of us down.”

  “Blair!”

  “But the third, which is what I’m doing, is where we both win. I win you over with my counter-blackmail, keep my naked pictures to myself unless you push me to a place where I have to release them, you go away, and we leave it at that.”

  “Are you serious?” Her whisper was shrill, her eyes scrunched into fiery slits.

  I waved the phone by my face to remind her I was still recording. “Here’s how this is going to go down, Mother. You can use my firm for your campaign—and you will use them, because I’m sure they’d be more than happy to handle my PR if you go the other way—and you’re going to smile and pretend everything is okay.”

  “Blair,” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to be on your team anymore. I might be a loser in your eyes, but I’ve always considered myself an honest person.”

  “Stop this.” For the first time in my life, I saw her eyes turn glassy.

  Despite the impending tears collecting in her eyes, I pressed on. “I won’t press charges and I won’t share this recording with anybody. Not if you leave me alone, and leave everybody else in my life alone. If I get even a suspicion that you’re fucking with me the first place I’m going is SFN News.”

  Which was her most-hated news channel. They hated her political party and made no secret of it. I’d be their bestie of the year with this recording.

  She breathed a few beats, and I didn’t break eye contact. The way she sized me up, I knew she was weighing pros and cons, wondering if I’d really go through with it.

  “I suppose I should be proud,” she said.

  Funny how I’d wanted my entire life to hear those precious words. “Even if you are it doesn’t matter to me. All that matters right now is that I never have to see you again, or worry about what you’re going to do to me.”

  She nodded, pulled out her purse, and put a $100 bill on the table. “I understand. Enjoy your dinner.”

  And with that, she walked out of my life.

  Forever, this time.

  ...

  I drove to the Callahan’s house to meet with John. Behind closed doors, in his office, he listened to my story, and I played the recording for him.

  “I’m going to give you a copy of this,” I said, and clicked on the button to send it. “I don’t want it to get out, but in case she tries anything you’ll have it.”

  He nodded and took off his glasses, then wiped his face. “You’ve had quite a life with her, haven’t you?”

  “I’m not like her,” I said, even though my actions over the last twenty-four hours proved I was exactly like her.

  “No, you’re most certainly not.”

  “I’m really sorry about all of this.”

  “Don’t be. You seem to have taken care of her, and I doubt we’ll have to worry about her now,” he said, and put his glasses back on. “How are you holding up?”

  I shrugged. “Fine. I’m sure it’ll all hit me at some point.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” he said, standing. He came around the desk and pulled me into his arms. “Call me if you need anything.”

  I nodded, unable to return the affection, and left.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday morning I woke up to a brand new day. I stretched and yawned, the covers beckoning me to spend the whole day in there. But what was the point of kicking ass and taking names if I spent the rest of my life in bed? I had to enjoy this shit while it lasted.

  Victoria was pretty cool about me not wanting to be on the team for my mom’s campaign anymore. She admitted she’d had some reservations about the familial relationship and the money being exchanged, and was relieved when I backed out. I told her I had my mother’s blessing—not mentioning it was blackmail, of cour
se—and she said she’d be happy to send me some of her accounts, now that she’d be busy with my mom.

  So all was well that ended well there.

  At my desk, I stared at the business card from Armstrong Gallery. It wasn’t too far from my office, so I figured the least I could do was check it out after work.

  My car was still at the shop, so I walked the eight blocks to Old Town. The gallery was on a corner spot in an older building, and the works of art I saw inside made me wonder what the hell he’d see in me. I couldn’t go in there. He’d think I was a joke if he saw the rest of my work, no matter what his daughter said.

  “You should go in there.”

  I gasped. Turning, I came face to face with Sawyer. Baxter was on his leash, and when he saw me, his tail wagged. Then he crashed to the ground and fell into insta-nap mode.

  “Stalker much?” I asked.

  “Pure coincidence. Bax and I needed a break after all this packing, and there you were.” Packing. Ugh. This meant he was moving for real. So not going there. He wore a navy blue T-shirt with black shorts and running shoes. He hadn’t shaved in at least a few days—yum—and he pushed his Ray-Bans on top of his head. “Okay, I have a confession. I actually keep hoping that I’ll run into you, so Baxter and I have been taking an ungodly number of walks lately.”

  “You’re seriously dragging the dog into this?”

  He shrugged. “Is it working?”

  “Hm.” I stared at his T-shirt, then turned my attention to far more interesting things, like my shoes.

  “Aren’t you going inside?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Not today.”

  He didn’t argue. “Armstrong has a gallery in Summit Ridge. Anyway. Baxter and I were going to Ben & Jerry’s to help out Vanessa. Want to join us?” he asked.

  “I…” …was a total wuss.

  “You can take your ice cream and run. You don’t even have to talk to me,” he said, a note of joking in his voice.

  “I’ll ruin my dinner.”

  “Live a little, Blair.”

  Rolling my eyes, I nodded. It was the least I could do after he’d bought my painting. “All right.”