The Cousins Series Boxed Set

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "I knew you were saving, Bitsy, but you never said that it was in the house. I didn't know they took your money. I didn't know that there was any money to take."

  Not likely. I'm sure I'd mentioned at least once that I had money stashed in my apartment.

  "So what do you know about that night exactly?" I ask.

  "They were men that I bought drugs from and as I got further up shit's creek, they turned into men I sold drugs for. I owed them a shitload of money, and I couldn't ask my parents for it. They'd obviously know something was up. So I thought I'd sell temporarily to make the money back. Kids were buying drugs anyway on campus, so I figured why not from me?

  "But I didn't realize just how hard it is to deal on campus, and I wasn't moving it fast enough. I was late on my payments, and I thought I had a little more time to figure things out, but they decided the night we were together that I was out of time. They had been following us the whole night."

  Okay, so that explains why he was acting weird that whole night. His sixth sense must have been trying to tell him something. That and the fact that he was probably high.

  "So why did you act like you didn't know what they were talking about when they asked you about the drugs? When they threatened to hurt me if you didn't answer correctly. You made them angry Ethan. Purposely. Why would you let them hurt me knowing that you had their drugs the whole time?"

  I'm doing my best not to break down in tears for the millionth time over this whole thing. Just reliving that whole night makes me very emotional though. Not just because it was painful to be hit by a grown man (because it was), but more so because I'd been betrayed by someone I trusted. Someone I had just moments ago given my body to. Someone I thought could possibly be my forever guy.

  "Because I was high that night. Because I was in over my head. Because–"

  "You're a natural born liar."

  "That's right Bitsy." He sighs. "Because I'm a liar and a coward."

  "So you were definitely high then when we had sex?"

  "Yes." Ethan hangs his head low with his response.

  I'm not sure I should have even asked him that. The knowledge of it makes me feel empty. It was all meaningless for him.

  "I did my best to keep it away from you, Bitsy, but sometimes I just couldn't help myself. I talked myself into believing that I had things under control when it's obvious now that I didn't. I was high during many important moments over the last two years, but I most regret being high on that night. Especially because I was with you."

  He's saying all the right things, but I'm not totally sold. I check the neon green numbers on the alarm clock to see how long he's been talking. I want to make sure that I stick to my ten minute rule. If I let him talk too long, I may falter and actually forgive his lying butt.

  "And why did I wake up alone after being knocked out? Where did you go?"

  "They made me take them to where I had the rest of the drugs stashed. They wanted them back, and they weren't taking no for an answer. I couldn't call an ambulance for you. I couldn't do shit. I actually thought it was the best thing I could do for you. Getting them the hell out of there I mean."

  Oh please.

  "And why aren't you still in a rehab in Arizona like your rude ass father told me you were? If you have such a drug problem, shouldn't you be there?"

  "I know my dad's an ass. I'm sorry for whatever he may have said to you."

  "He tried to pay me off Ethan. Pay me to not say anything about what happened that night. Pay me to not take your calls. Although you never called, so that wasn't really an issue was it?"

  Ethan hangs his head down even lower.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't know he did that."

  "He didn't even ask how I was. He doesn't think too much of me I take it. Just like his son."

  Silence.

  "So continue." I say. "What happened with rehab?"

  "I left rehab."

  "Really? Why did you do that? Because you haven't been in there long enough to go through any sort of real treatment program."

  "I signed myself out. Truth is I have to find a swim club that will take me in, so I can get my life back on track, before I blow my chance, Bitsy. I can't do that in a residential treatment facility. Swimming is my future. The Olympics is all I've ever wanted. It's all I've got. I can find an out treatment program at home."

  "Home?"

  "In Philly."

  "You're coming back to Philadelphia?"

  I'm absolutely appalled that he'd move back. The city is not big enough for the two of us. It just isn't.

  "Yes, for a lot of reasons."

  He looks at me pitifully as if to insinuate that I'm one of those reasons.

  Oh hell to the no!

  "Well your ten minutes are up, and I think I've heard everything that I need to hear. Oh wait a minute, not everything. I just want to know what you're doing here in The Bahamas?"

  "Just getting a little rest before I get back to the real world."

  "So this is a vacation for you?" I ask incredulously.

  "I guess you could call it that."

  He looks at me as if he's hesitant to say more. As if he feels guilty for enjoying his life. Good. He should feel like crap.

  "Unbelievable."

  "What is?"

  "That you happen to coincidentally see me at a bar in the frackin' Bahamas. I mean what are the chances."

  "Maybe it's fate."

  "I doubt it." I roll my eyes. "One more question Ethan. When were you planning on contacting me to apologize? To check and see if I was even alive and well? It's been weeks and you're out here frackin' vacationing? I didn't deserve one phone call?"

  "I swear I was coming straight to you when I got back to Philly, Bitsy. You were going to be my first stop. I wanted to get my shit together first. I didn't want to come to you a mess."

  "I don't live in that apartment anymore. You wouldn't have found me."

  "We have plenty of mutual friends. Just because you moved doesn't mean I wouldn't have found you."

  "Our mutual friends seem to only be your friends now. I haven't spoken to any of them since this whole thing happened."

  "No one?" He asks suspiciously.

  "What are you insinuating?"

  "Haven't you been talking to Jagger?"

  "How do you know that?"

  Has Jagger been telling him?

  "Like I said, we have mutual friends that make it their business to keep me updated on you. You're my girl, Bitsy. No matter how much I messed up, you are still my sweet, smart girlfriend who I'm going to marry one day. I just need to prove to you that I'm okay now."

  I'm still standing in the middle of the room, shifting side to side uncomfortably. I'm listening to the words coming out of his mouth, and immediately all I can think about is Roman. I'm thinking that even if I considered for one moment taking Ethan back, what that would mean for the two of us.

  "So where are you living now, and why are you in the Bahamas?" He asks.

  "You don't have the privilege of asking me questions about my life Ethan."

  Ethan stands up and moves closer to me.

  "You've really changed, Bitsy."

  And for the first time since I've known Ethan ... I feel absolutely nothing.

  "Yeah, you keep saying that."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ELIZABETH

  There is a sudden, urgent, knocking at the door of my hotel room. Whoever it is doesn't have the common decency to knock like a normal person, but instead pounds on my door like they're the frackin' police. With my drug dealing ex in my room, goodness knows it just may just be the police.

  Ethan moves quickly to answer the door before I have a chance to. Like he's worried that it may be trouble coming again for him. Or perhaps he considers his charge to the door as an act of protection of me, since he did such a piss poor job of it not so long ago. Seeing him walk with some sort of valiant purpose to answer my door reminds me for just a moment some of what I used to see in him. At least phys
ically.

  Ethan has a tall, lean swimmer's body and the face of a celebrity, which I found very attractive once upon a time. And while he's not drop dead yummy like Roman (although I hate to even make the comparison); Ethan has always had an air of confidence about him that I didn't see in most twenty or twenty-one year old guys at school. Of course all of that was attractive, until it wasn't any longer. Until I learned the hard way that it was all a huge lie. A front.

  He attempts looking through the peephole to see who it is on the other side of the door, but the peephole appears to be purposely covered.

  "Who is it?" Ethan asks through the door in an octave lower than his normal voice.

  It would be almost comical if I wasn't worried about who was on the other side my damn self.

  The pounding stops and now there is an eerie silence.

  I feel a tingle across the back of my neck, and then I immediately recognize the voice spewing angry words that are being said loud enough for the entire floor of the hotel to hear.

  "Open this fucking door right now cocksucker."

  My heart begins thumping so loudly, that I'm afraid it will pump straight through my chest. For a fleeting moment, I think I see fear shoot across Ethan's face, and then next I notice confusion. He's not sure who this is on the other side of my door, but also seems relieved that he doesn't recognize the voice.

  But of course I do.

  "Who are you calling a cocksucker asshole?" Ethan whips the door open with a false sense of bravado.

  I feel a bit of déjà vu, because once again I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, frightened as hell at the possibility of what may happen next. Just like the night of the attack. Except this time is slightly different. This time there isn't some dead-eyed, Shrek-covered, criminal itching to hurt me. This time it's my wild-eyed cousin itching to beat the shit out of at least one of us.

  He is fuming.

  The scar under his left eye twitching.

  His fingers curling and flexing.

  And he's so frackin' beautiful right now that it hurts. Damn I missed him, and it hasn't even been that long.

  "Is there any other cocksucker in this room?" Roman asks in a very antagonistic fashion, as he pushes his way through the threshold and allows the door to slam shut.

  He's staring daggers at me and holds my eyes in a lock that seems to be accusatory. I don't know if I should blink first, look away, or start talking. So I try not to do any one of those three things. It may be in everyone's best interest if I don't, until I know for sure where Roman's head is at.

  "What the fuck." Roman says to me in a bone chilling voice.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask. Knowing immediately after I say it that it was the wrong question to ask.

  "Elizabeth." He says with a strong note of warning.

  "This is Ethan." I tell him quietly.

  "I know who the fuck it is." Roman growls. "The question is what the fuck is he doing inside of your room?"

  Ethan quickly snaps his head between us both in confusion.

  "Is THIS who you're fucking now, Bitsy?" Ethan points in Roman's direction. "THIS is what you've lowered–"

  Ethan isn't able to finish the rest of his sentence, because in a matter of seconds Roman clutches his throat with one hand and won't let go. He's gripping him with the power of the jaws of a pit bull but seems to be doing it with little effort.

  Like it's easy.

  And with a sneer on his face as if he enjoys it.

  I can't watch anymore as Ethan gasps for air, so I jump off the bed to put an end to it before he either passes out or someone hears the scuffle and calls hotel security.

  "Roman stop." I plead.

  "I asked you why the fuck he is in here."

  He turns his head towards me with purpose while still calmly choking the ever-living shit out of my jerk of an ex-boyfriend. I gently touch his forearm to hopefully get his attention and to stop him from catching a murder charge.

  "Roman." I say softly. "If you don't let him go, then he can't go anywhere, and he was definitely about to leave."

  Roman tilts his head to the side and watches me for a moment, analyzing me as he often does with his internal bullshit meter; then he turns his attention back to Ethan.

  "Listen to me closely ... Ethan. Whatever shit you're up to ends now. You were responsible for some filthy ass dealer putting his hands on Elizabeth. Just for that alone, I should squeeze your throat until you bust a blood vessel, but that's not what this is about. It's not about what I want. It's about what she wants, and what my cousin wants is you gone and out of her life. Do we understand each other?"

  Ethan is turning a frightening shade of purple. And is it crazy for me to think right at this moment that I wish Roman wasn't so quick to announce to the whole world that we're cousins? Maybe I wanted Ethan to think for just a moment that I have moved on with the bad-ass literally holding his next breath in his hands.

  "Roman." I say again while this time touching his back. "I don't think he can answer you."

  "Fuck." He mutters as if he doesn't realize his own strength.

  When Roman releases Ethan's throat, I watch his Adam's apple finally move again and then he takes a couple gulps of air. I actually feel a little sorry for him, but not as much as I probably should.

  "You're her cousin?" Ethan asks through strained breaths.

  "That's right, and I promise you that if you even breathe in her direction again, that I will put you down like the dog that you are."

  For the first time since Ethan walked into my hotel room, I finally see what I think is an honest emotion cross his face ... trepidation.

  "Roman, I'm going to go out in the hall and speak with Ethan for a moment. I need you to stay in here okay?"

  He looks at me like I have lost my last little bit of sense.

  "Elizabeth," he exhales harshly. "Fuck no."

  "Just five minutes?" I beg.

  He rubs his hands back and forth across the top of his head out of frustration.

  "Two minutes." He barks.

  "I need five."

  "I don't like this shit."

  I can see that Roman is struggling with some sort of internal battle. He's not used to compromise. He's not used to the art of negotiation, at least not without the use of his fists. He's used to setting the terms and fuck anyone who doesn't agree.

  "I didn't know Bitsy had a cousin." Ethan chimes in.

  Why is he speaking? I guess he isn't as threatened by Roman, now that he thinks that he's only my cousin and not someone I'm sleeping with (of course that in it of itself is hysterical).

  "I won't hurt her man," he continues. "I just want to talk to her."

  "I know you won't hurt her prick." Roman grins almost like a psychotic killer.

  "Ethan don't say anything else." I plead.

  I pull Roman to the side. His breath heavy and his eyes practically dilated and fixed on Ethan the entire time.

  "Roman," I grab his face with both of my hands and turn his head to face mine. "Let me have my final five minutes with him. I just need closure."

  After what seems like forever, his face starts to soften. Then he starts rubbing a few strands of my hair between his thumb and pointer finger. I'm sure Ethan thinks I'm related to some sort of psychopath with questionable boundary issues at this point.

  "Why do you want to talk to him?" he asks quietly. I can tell he's calming down. Starting to see reason.

  "I don't expect you to understand. It's total girl shit. It's just that whatever Ethan and I went through, he did once mean something to me. This needs to at least end with a five minute conversation between us."

  "Didn't this ass-wipe have his five minutes when you were sprawled across the floor of your apartment unconscious and he left. Isn't that all the fucking closure you need?"

  I sigh in exasperation. Roman isn't making this easy, and I hate that we're hashing this out completely in front of Ethan.

  "Roman–"

  "Didn't you say your mo
ney was stolen that night?"

  I don't know why he's bringing this up now or where he's going with it.

  "Yes."

  Ethan continues to stand silently but attentively watching the exchange between us.

  "How much?"

  I keep my lips clamped together. Roman's never asked me how much money was taken before. I've never told a soul how much was in there, not even Sloan, because it's embarrassing. I can hear all of the I told you so's already. Only paranoid old folks hide large sums of money in their houses. Not twenty somethings from the burbs.

  "That's not important because–"

  "Second time I'm asking, Elizabeth. How fucking much?"

  Crap.

  "Seventeen."

  "Seventeen what, hundred?"

  "Thousand." I whisper. Wishing that he wasn't forcing this issue. Geez, Roman has no sense of boundaries or privacy.

  Ethan's eyes bulge at my revelation. At least I know now that he didn't really know about the money or at least how much was there.

  "So let me get this straight." Roman says practically gritting his teeth. "You need additional closure with a man who brought scum to your home, scum that stole seventeen fucking thousand dollars from you, scum who knocked you the fuck out and who is responsible for you having to move out of your own apartment?"

  "Roman, I–"

  "And what has he been saying to you while he's been in here? Bitsy, I'm so sorry." He says imitating a whiny voice. "Bitsy, I messed up. Fuck that! Your druggie-ass, superstar swimmer is just sorry that he got exposed. I bet he's been saying some slick shit out of his mouth to try and get you back hasn't he? Did he tell you that he hasn't been in Arizona at all? That he hasn't been in rehab ever?"

  "What?" I turn to look at Ethan. Is he still playing me?

  "Wait one damn minute–" Ethan interrupts.

  "No you wait a minute." I say angrily as Roman takes a step in front of me, and closer to Ethan. Just a few mere inches away from his face. Completely towering over him.

  "Don't say anything else cocksucker, or I swear I will beat you down just for the hell of it."

  "You don't scare–"

  Crack!

  Roman hits Ethan with a single overhead punch dropping him straight to the carpeted floor; I silently cover my mouth with my hands in shock.