by Emily Bishop
The clouds, of course, didn’t reply, other than to increase the pressure of rain. Lightning arced through the darkness, splitting, chaining, and was followed by a crack of thunder so loud it almost split my skull in two.
I shrieked and bumped the hood of the RV. It slapped into place, at last.
“Well, thank you for that.”
Lights flashed in the darkness and I winced, awaited the second crack of thunder but no, this wasn’t from above. These were… “Headlights!” I yelled.
Two of them approaching from Moondance’s side of the road. I rushed out, slipped, fell on my ass in a puddle then grunted and struggled upright. I stood in the middle of the road and waved my arms above my head.
The car trundled closer, slowed to a stop.
My joy drained away.
It was a Porsche 911. Luke’s Porsche.
I crossed my fingers—god, if Jarryd was in there, I wouldn’t have the willpower to tell him to leave.
The driver’s door opened, the lights in the cab came on and revealed… Luke. The passenger’s side was empty.
Relief didn’t wash over me. My heart sank.
“Well, hello there,” Luke said. “Car trouble?”
“Yeah. You don’t happen to have an RV engine in there, do you?” I asked.
“Sorry, I left it in my other pair of pants. Hold on a sec,” he said then got back in the Porsche and started the engine again. It purred, and he cruised over to the side of the road and parked in front of my RV.
I walked over to him, feet heavy as lead, and water seeping through to the seat of my skirt. God, I’d need a shower after this.
Luke got out of the car and shut the door.
“Hi,” I said.
“Let’s talk inside,” he yelled, over the downpour. Already, his hair was plastered to his head, and his glasses were speckled with droplets. “Before I drown.”
“Right.” I led him back to the RV’s entrance then up the stairs and to the kitchen table. I stripped off my slicker and hung it on the hook at the back of the door and slammed it shut, cut out the roar of rain.
Luke sat down and removed his glasses, wiping them on his shirt. “Shit, that doesn’t help. Like trying to dry a wet cloth with water.”
I fetched him a paper towel then sat down opposite him, squelching on the padding of the bench. “What are you doing out here?” I asked.
“I could ask you the same question,” he replied and dried his glasses on the towel. He crumpled it up after and left it on the surface then rammed his glasses onto his face. “Ah, that’s better, thanks.”
“I had to leave, after—you know. You must know. Everyone else does.”
“I heard,” Luke replied. “But you shouldn’t take the press seriously. And you certainly shouldn’t let Felicity get to you. She’s a bully. If you stand up to her, she’ll deflate like a pricked balloon.” He ran fingers through his hair and sluiced water onto his shirt.
“Shit, do you need a towel?”
“No, I’m good,” he said.
I nodded, bit my lip. It took every ounce of my self-control not to ask him how Jarryd felt about all of this. How he’d fared with the knowledge that I was gone, and I wouldn’t come back. “So, I know why I left,” I said. “Why did you leave? You’re the last person I expected to run into out here.”
“Well,” he said, “I figured it was high time I got out of there. I’m done with Pride’s Death.”
“What? But Jarryd might need you!”
“I have a feeling he won’t,” Luke replied. “He fired Felicity, and that means there’s another media storm coming. She won’t take it lying down.”
“I thought she deflated if your pricked her,” I replied.
“Sure, but there’s a difference between that and work. She’s got a contract. She’ll probably try to sue him for it.”
I knuckled my forehead and gulped. “I feel like this is all my fault. If I’d stayed away from him, none of this would have happened.”
“Yeah, well, if ifs and buts were donuts, I’d be much happier. And much fatter. Relax, Aurora. You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t say that Jarryd did anything wrong either. He seems to care for you, a lot.”
“Don’t say that,” I muttered and looked down at my hands in my lap. I twisted my fingers together and squeezed.
“You know, running away won’t solve anything,” Luke said.
“You’re only the third person who’s told me that today.”
“Third time’s a charm, I believe the saying goes. But I’m serious. If Jarryd wants you, he’ll find you, and he’ll do his best to make you his. He’s never been good with letting go,” Luke replied. “He’s the type of guy who gets what he wants.”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants. It matters what he needs, and that’s stability so he can do his thing. How is he supposed to function with me in his life? People will spread rumors constantly, they’ll try to ruin his career.”
Luke shrugged. “It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. You think it was easy for him when he broke up with Felicity? That shit was all over the papers. Speculation, rumors, bullshit stories. He’s had it all.”
“I haven’t,” I said.
“No, you haven’t.” Luke conceded that point. “Now, maybe we should change the subject here. You need help with your engine, and I’m one of those guys who owns a sports car but knows nothing about how it works. I’m cool like that.”
“Oh,” I said and couldn’t keep the disappointment from my tone. “That’s OK. I—you can leave, I don’t want to keep you from your trip.”
“Don’t be a dumbass,” he said and drew his cell out of his pocket. He swiped his thumb across the screen then typed.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I know someone who can help you with your situation. I’m going to shoot off a text then stick around until they arrive.”
“A mechanic?”
“An enthusiast,” Luke replied. “With a lot of knowledge about engines. You’ll be fixed up and back on the road in no time.” He winked at me then continued typing.
“Sounds good to me. Thanks.” It sounded almost too good.
Luke chuckled. “What are friends for?”
Chapter 29
Jarryd
I entered the lobby of the Moondance Motel, sopping wet and pissed off. The walk back in the middle of the storm had been shitty, to say the least, but the fact that Luke’s car wasn’t outside the motel topped up my “fuck this” meter. I needed a car, a method of getting out of town on the road Mama Kate had mentioned, and I didn’t have it without Luke.
I halted in front of the reception desk and hit the silver bell atop it.
“One second,” Kevin called. A few huffs and puffs of breath, and he appeared in the doorway behind the desk, carrying a can of soda. “Oh, hello, Mr. Tombs. How may I help you?”
“Have you seen Luke?” I asked. “His Porsche isn’t outside.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Tombs, but Mr. Carlson has already checked out. He left about ten minutes ago.”
“In which direction?” I asked.
“North out of town,” Kevin replied and pointed in the direction.
Luke had taken the same route as Aurora. Was everyone I cared about determined to run from me today? “Did he leave a message for me?” I asked. “Anything at all?”
Kevin put down his can of coke. “I’m afraid not, sir.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “He hardly said a word when he left. Just handed in his keys, thanked me, and left. I’m sorry, Mr. Tombs.”
“No need,” I said. “Perhaps, you can help me. Do you know if the taxi service around here is running?”
“Old Bobby is our only cab driver, sir, and he doesn’t do trips during storms or at night.”
“Of course,” I replied. “How could I forget?” It was one of the first things Aurora had told me, and one of the reasons I’d stayed over in her RV. That and the attraction to her—she’d made me hard with her scent
, and once again, the way she swayed when she walked. “Do you know anyone who has a car I can borrow?”
Another shake of his head. “Sorry, no.”
“Right. Thanks for your help,” I said, though it came out through gritted teeth and probably didn’t make a good impression on the guy.
Who gave a fuck?
I finally knew which direction she’d taken, and I still couldn’t get to her.
I stalked down the hall to my room, fumbling the keys out of my pocket. Here I was again, trapped in Moondance, this time with no reason to stay, other than the fact I couldn’t find anyone to get me the hell out of here.
We’d driven down in Luke’s Porsche, and my buddy had to be pissed if he’d simply left me here to rot. Or maybe, he’d be back. He might need time to cool off.
“Still doesn’t help the Aurora situation,” I muttered and stopped in front of my door. I inserted the key in the lock, turned it then let myself into the room.
Felicity lay on the bed, wearing lingerie I’d bought for her a year ago, for an anniversary. Red lace cups lifted her breasts and gave her cleavage she couldn’t attain naturally, and below it, filmy material clung to her curves, accentuating her slender hips. She dragged one leg over the other and smiled. “Hey, babe,” she said.
“How the hell did you get in my room?” I asked, still with one hand on the doorknob.
“I made a copy of the key,” she said. “So what? It’s not a big deal, is it?”
The woman made my head spin, and not in a good way. Not two hours ago, she’d shrieked insults at me in front of a parade of press members. “You’re out of your mind,” I said. “Felicity, I’m serious. I think you should see a doctor.”
“I’m not crazy,” she said and scooched upright, tucking her knees underneath her body. “I’m wild about you. I—everything I’ve done over the past few weeks has been to get you to see that we’re meant to be together.”
“How? You’ve only made me despise you,” I said and still didn’t enter the room. I wouldn’t while she was in there, dressed like that.
“Think of it like this,” she said and put out both hands, palms to the ceiling. “People want us to be together.” She lifted one of her hands. “When they found out about you and Aurora, they hated it. They hate the thought of you together.” She lowered her other hand. “Obviously, us being together pleases them, and if it pleases them, it’s good for us. Good for business.” She slipped off the bed and sauntered over, wiggling toward me, undulating like a snake.
I stepped back into the hall, so she couldn’t reach me. “I don’t care what people think.”
Felicity stopped and barked a laugh. “Of course you do. You want what’s best for your career, and what’s best for mine. Why else would you have fake fired me in front of those reporters? You were playing along.”
“I was serious.”
She blinked at me. “No, it was a fake out.” Did she think so much of herself that she couldn’t be fired? “I know it was, because I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you or any of your movies.”
“Nope.”
“We’re the same, you and me. We understand that any press is good press. Everyone’s going to want to know what will happen next. Will Pride’s Death feature me? Will I be the star, and if so, what will it mean for our relationship?” Felicity clasped her hands together, in front of her breasts. “They’re going to eat that shit up. The movie will be a hit, because people won’t be able to stay away. The mystery will be too much for them. The intrigue.”
On a base level, I understood her. I understood what she’d become and how it’d happened because for a long time, I’d been a part of that world with her.
Everything was about views, likes, money. The world was giant stage, and humanity was a crowd of nameless, faceless beings, voting for who was the most popular.
But I’d never truly believed that crap, where Felicity lived her life by it. It was her daily bread and butter.
“I’m not interested in any of that. I’m in love with Aurora.”
“The witch?” Felicity rolled her eyes. “Come on, Jay. You’re not stupid. She was using you for a quick fuck. She’s obviously a little loose. You got it out of your system, consider it your revenge for me having cheated on you. Let’s get back to normal.”
She wasn’t dumb either, but she was stubborn and ambitious, and that meant she wouldn’t let this go without real proof that I was done.
Done with everything.
Time to kill two birds with one stone. How could I prove I was serious to her and Aurora in one fell swoop?
I took my cell phone out of my pocket, unlocked the screen then tapped on my contacts app.
“What are you doing?” Felicity asked, standing inside the room.
I dialed Rod Teller’s number and put the phone to my ear.
“Tombs,” he answered, in a croak. “It’s late. Why the fuck are you calling me at this time of the night?”
“It’s over, Rod. I’m dropping Pride’s Death,” I said.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Felicity asked, voice rising. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“Are you serious, Jarryd?” Rod cleared his throat. “Because if you make this decision, there’s no going back. If you can the movie, it’s done. And I’m not one hundred percent sure I’ll be interested in supporting another one of your endeavors.”
“I understand, Rod. This project has gotten out of hand. I thought I could make it work, but I’m officially admitting defeat. I apologize for wasting your time.”
“Hey, man, it’s no sweat off my ass. This is probably going to look bad for you, though,” Rod said.
“I’ll speak to my accountant and get things straightened out,” I finished.
“Good. You take care now, kiddo. I’ve got to get some shut eye.” He hung up before I could wish him well. The defeat in his tone had damn near made me take the words back.
This was the first time I’d given up on a project in our entire working history together. Weirdly, it didn’t feel like a failure. It felt like I’d drawn a line in the sand, at last. A line between what I wanted to do professionally and personally.
I held my cell and stared at the now blank screen. It was over.
“You’re fucking insane,” Felicity hissed.
“It’s over,” I said. “Do you see that now, or do I need to have you escorted from my room?”
Felicity let out a tiny yowl then marched back to my bed. She snatched up her robe and threw it on, jerking the sleeves over her arms. “If you think I’m going to let a man threaten my career, you’re deluded. I’ve worked too hard and come too far to let that happen. You’re going to cast me in a movie or else.”
“Or else? What are you, the fucking mafia?” I laughed.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” she screeched. “I’m everything. I made you who you are today. If it wasn’t for me, people wouldn’t care about your crappy thriller movies. You’re only famous by association.”
Total crap, but I’d let her have the fantasy. “Cool,” I said. “Thanks for clarifying that. Now, get out of my room. It’s over. In every way. Felicity, I don’t ever want to see you again, not in person. Not at parties or at meetings. Not in any capacity. You’re literally the last person I’d speak to. After today, this moment, it’s done.”
Her lips worked, peeled back across her teeth. “Bastard. You were lucky to have me.” She pushed past me and into the hall then streaked down it to her own room and disappeared inside. The door slammed so hard, the wall sconce rattled.
Thank fuck that was over. It’d been a long time coming. I’d let Felicity run amok, simply because I’d been taken in by Aurora’s presence.
“Aurora,” I said and entered my room. That fight hadn’t solved my problem. I still couldn’t reach her. There had to be a way.
My phone blipped, and I swiped the screen and opened the message. It was from Luke.
Sorry I left you high and dry. You’d
better find a car, buddy. I’m here with your girl. She’s stranded out on the highway in the storm. Engine’s fucked.
My pulse raced. Mama Kate had said as much—that the universe wouldn’t let her get far since our fates were intertwined.
“There’s got to be a way.” I texted back: On my way. Keep her there. Not that she could go anywhere in the middle of a storm with her engine crapped out. I shoved my cell back into my pocket.
I left the room again, not even bothering to lock it behind me, and raced back down the hall to the front desk. Kevin looked up, Coke can halfway to his mouth.
“Does the guy who owns the Bar and Grill have a car?”
“Ol’ Jerr?” Kevin asked. “Yeah.”
“Thanks,” I said and raced for the door without another word. Jerr, huh? He’d been protective over Aurora, kind of like a father figure, and that meant he’d want to help her in her time of need, didn’t it?
I burst out into the night, and the rain flattened the hair to my head immediately. The shirt that had only just started drying out was sodden within a minute. I sloshed through a puddle and jogged through the motel’s parking lot, to the sidewalk.
Fifteen minutes of slogging through the rain, flinching at the thunder tolls and chain lightning, and I reached the Moondance Bar and Grill. The wooden doors were shut tight, but lights were on inside.
I banged on the door, dripping, shivering, and cursing the fucking storm. Fuck it, after this, I’d be immune to them. No one came to open up, so I knocked again, this time using both fists and throwing all my weight into it. The restaurant’s doors creaked on their hinges.
“Jerr!” I yelled. “Open up!”
“Who the hell is that?” the old man answered. “It’s storming out there, Christ.” The latch snapped back, and the right-side door swung inward.
Jerr stood there, holding his shotgun in one hand. He wore his apron and an expression that matched the thunderclouds above. “What in the heck do you want?”
“I know you don’t like me,” I said. “I acted like a nut sack the last time I was in here, but I need your help. It’s about Aurora.”