by Megyn Ward
“He paid with a credit card last night. I googled him.” Diana waggles her eyebrows. “His dad is Niles Lowery.”
I still hadn’t put the pencil to my eyes. “And?”
“Niles Lowery.” Diana ties a halter top around her neck. “His parents are Sargent Lowery and Margaret Sunny Spencer.”
When all I do is stare at her, she sighs and looks at me like she thinks I might be suffering a stroke. “Lowerys are principle shareholders in the biggest pharmaceutical company in the states. Spencers are heirs of the cereal manufacturers. You know, the Crunchy Crunch you ate every morning of your childhood.”
I don’t tell her that Mom never let me have Crunchy Crunch, no matter how much I begged. “So he’s rich.” I knew that. I mean, I know he has money. “Good for you.”
Diana grabs the eyeliner from my hand and holds it up to my face. I look at the ceiling and allow her to trace my eyes. “No, dimwit, good for you. Play it right and you’ll be set for life.”
I stay still while she moves to my next eye. “I’m not playing anything.”
Except, I am.
“Okay. I believe you.” She steps back with a grin. “You’re going out with him because of those killer dimples and the deep, blue eyes and ripped body and the fact that you totally boned him last night.”
“No I didn’t.” Technically, the boning happened this morning.
Diana straps on platform sandals, still managing to give me a knowing look even though she’s basically bent in half. “Was it good?”
Good? No. Sex with Zach wasn’t good. It was something else entirely. Just thinking about it sends a rush of heat through me. I lift my hair off my neck and fan the dampness. “It was amazing.”
“I knew it, you little slut.” Diana bounces up with a grin despite her harsh words. “Hot, loaded and he can fuck?” She grabs a brush from the dresser and starts to fluff her hair. “I wish he had a brother.”
I don’t even ask how she knows he doesn’t. “I met his sister.” I smooth my skirt down and turn to look at my profile in the mirror. “She seemed nice.”
“Sister, huh?” She puts the brush down and gives me a sly look. “I’d totally swing that way for a Lowery.”
The crazy thing is that she’s probably serious.
It’s almost seven, he’ll be here any minute. My stomach flips, like it did when I waited for my prom date. Only that night, I’d dressed up to impress a guy I thought I loved. There was no reason for my jangling nerves now. “I’m really not interested in Zach’s money.”
Now, Jonas Knightly’s fortune was another issue.
Diana reaches out and drops a hand on my shoulder. “Then you’re a fool.”
“What?”
“You and your mother lived hand to mouth your whole lives.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze before letting her hand drop. “If you have a father he never helped out at all.”
Hearing her say it out loud ties my stomach into knots. “What makes you say that?”
She shrugs. “I don’t have a college degree but I know people. I listen. I remember. “Your mother passed away six months ago but if she left you money or had a life insurance policy, you wouldn’t be eating Ramen noodles twice a day and panicking over losing your job.”
“And my father?” I’m suddenly sure she knows who he is. That he’s the Jonas Knightly. I don’t know why but the thought fills me with panic.
“Not in the picture.” Her matter of face tone is like a slap in the face. “If he was dead, you’d have said so or at least given a clue. But you’ve never mentioned him. Not one word. Which means you’ve never met him.”
“You’re good.” I force a smile to cover the yawning pit her observations has opened in my stomach. “You ought to get a job with FBI as a profiler.”
She thrust an expertly manicured fingernail at me. “I’m not finished.”
“Oh?”
“I know something else about you and your father.”
I hold my breath. “What’s that?”
“You don’t like him. You hate him and want revenge on him for abandoning you and your mother.”
I suddenly don’t like this game of hers. “You’re crazy.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Really?”
When I don’t answer, she gives me one of her knowing smiles. “You’re my friend, Kylie—probably the only real friend I have so I’m giving you some advice.” She winds her black curls into a bun and stabs it with a lacquered chopstick. “Give it up. Don’t go looking for some loser who didn’t have the brains to stick with a gorgeous woman, not afraid of hard work. Chances are, he’s broke and lonely someplace. You and your mom were better off without him.”
“You’re probably right.” Broke and lonely—not so much but yes, my mom and I were better off without him.
Then why are you bent on making him pay for abandoning you? Why can’t you just let it go?
Because he could’ve saved her. If he’d been half the man he fooled her into believing he was, Jonas Knightly could’ve saved my mother. At the very least, he could’ve made her death a lot less painful.
Diana slicks plum colored gloss over her mouth and pushes her lips together in a pout. “When’s Prince Charming supposed to be here?”
My eyes wander to the clock. “Soon.” It’s only a few minutes after seven.
He’ll be here soon.
Chapter 21
Zach
Liesa doesn’t eat like a starving person. She nibbled on one shrimp from the cocktail, took a bite of salad, sampled the lobster and even though she ordered crème brule′ for dessert, she cracked the caramelized sugar but didn’t take a bite.
For dinner, Liesa exchanged the oversized sunglasses for heavy plastic frames and thick lenses. She explained the lenses are plain glass but make her appear mousy and indistinct. She’s right. I’d have never recognized her as Liesa Temple.
Oddly enough, I like her.
It took her some time to relax but once she did, she was a totally different person than the one she pretends to be on Liesa’s Life. She knows a lot about art and an amazing amount of movie trivia. She has a quick wit and laughs easily.
I try to imagine spending the next year of my life doing this. Fancy dinners and exotic vacations. Cameras and paparazzi. Movie premiers and nightclubs—but I can’t.
All I can see is Kylie.
The way she looked at me outside Jonas’ office building, while we looked out over the water. Angry and sad. Wounded and bitter.
The way she folded my pants for me this morning, as neat as a pin.
The way she said okay when I asked her out, like she knew it was a mistake. That I was going to hurt her but she just couldn’t say no.
I like her. But it’s more than that. I want—
Jesus.
What the fuck am I doing?
Kylie is a girl I met yesterday. Just a girl. Not my future. Not the love of my life. I don’t even know her.
Yes you do. She showed you more of herself in a few hours than Lexi showed you in seven years.
When the check comes, Liesa’s in the middle of a story about a dog she’d had as a child. “I spent hours working with him on the obstacle course. He was good. We both were. I wanted to compete but Mother wouldn’t hear of it.”
“She didn’t let you?”
She shifts her focus to the waves beyond the darkened sand. “Mother choreographed my whole life. It’s like from the moment I was born, she made me a celebrity.”
I reach out and place my hand on hers. Her delicate fingers feel like icicles. “I’m sorry.” And I am. She’s a nice girl. I hate to think of how lonely her life was a child. At least Alicia and I had each other.
“Oh, it’s not so bad. I’m, you know Liesa Temple—” She smiles but somehow she just looks even sadder. “and eventually, the show will fail and I’ll be free.” I can tell when she says it that she knows the truth. That as long as Jonas and her mother are in charge of her life, she’ll never be free.
I pay the bill and we leave. It’s after eight but if I can make short work of dropping Liesa off at home, I’ll still have time to see Kylie. She’ll be angry at me for standing her up but I’ll explain that work kept me late. Technically, it’s true. Knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better.
Liesa gives me her address and we head toward the most exclusive neighborhood on the island.
Holding my breath and trying not to think about what a douche bag this whole thing makes me, I go in for the kill. “Since you can’t meet with Jonas until the day after tomorrow, we ought to make some plans to get together.”
She doesn’t look enthused. “I think I’ll hang around my house and read.”
I give her the dimples. “Come on! You’re in paradise. You can read anywhere.”
She frowns.
Ignoring her reaction, I push. “How about Rum Beach?”
She brightens. “Mother would hate me hanging around on a tourist beach—unless, of course, the film crew was there to see me yell at some waiter because he salted the rim of my margarita after I’d ordered it without.”
“So, what do you say?” If I was going to win her trust and get my life back, I need to spend time with her.
“I hate to agree with Mother, but I don’t like to go out where people recognize me.”
I laugh. “I can’t believe you agree with anything Simone says.”
She shrugs. “It’s rare on screen, even worse in real life.”
Rum Beach is a pretty lame way to spend an afternoon. “We can charter a boat and go fishing.”
She shakes her head. “Not interested.”
I’m running out of things to suggest. Other than running all over the island, drinking herself to death and waking up on the beach, I’m fresh out of ideas. “I know some of this stuff is tacky and touristy, but it’s okay to do stuff regular people do,” I say, putting it off on her. Maybe there’s something she wants to do but is too embarrassed to say it out loud.
We travel out of the brightly lit party section of town, into residential areas. She leans back. “I hate that I’ve been so isolated all of my life. I do want to experience things other kids my age do.”
Aha, a break in the ice. “So what would you like to do?”
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye.
“What?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
“Anything. Just name it.”
A mischievous glint shines in her eye. “I’d like to try scuba diving.”
That surprises me. “You’ve never been?”
“Mother is afraid of the water.” She twists her mouth. “The only reason she let me come here on my own is because she thinks Uncle Jonas will keep an eye on me. She made me promise to stay out of the sun and definitely out of the ocean.”
“Uncle Jonas?”
“He’s been friends with Mother all my life. I’ve always called him Uncle Jonas.” She turns and stares out the window. “This is the first time Mother let me off her leash and only because she clipped me to his.”
“Uncle Jonas doesn’t need to know.” I grin. “Let’s go tomorrow.”
Her face loses its playfulness. “I’ll need lessons. But I don’t want to go to a commercial outfit. No matter how they promise discretion, someone always Tweets or Instagrams or whatever and we’ll get back to the dock full of cameras.”
Acting way more confident than I feel, I look her in the eye. “Leave it to me. I have a dive master and we’ll take care of everything.”
She gives me an incredulous look. “You have a dive master?”
“Well, I know one.” Shit. I’m making it up now. “Actually, you met her. At JK yesterday—you rode the elevator together.”
She lights up when I mention Kylie. “I know we’re destined to be best friends.”
Just like that, I’m in. We talk a little longer, make arrangements and I drop her off.
“This is going to be perfect. Thanks, Zach.” She grins and pops out of the car. Without another word, she bounds for the house.
I start my car and my stomach begins to churn at what I have to do next.
Chapter 22
Kylie
At seven-thirty Blake walks in the door. I’m on my way from the kitchen with a bag of chips, ready to plop in front of the TV for a How I Met Your Mother rerun.
“Wow.” He stands in the doorway and stared. “You look—”
Stood up? Do I look stood up because that’s what I am.
“Thanks.” I land on the worn couch and stuff a handful of salty, crunchy grease into my mouth.
“Are you going out?”
“Apparently not.” I tell myself my disappointment stems from the fact that I’m missing an opportunity to do recon and Jonas and not the fact that Zach rejected me.
He sounds a little cautious. “Were you going out?” I pull my attention from the TV. Blake stands tall in his board shorts and t-shirt stretched across his broad chest. His hair its usual tousled nest of dark curls.
“How was work today? Did they fill my position yet?” I say, ignoring his question. Since the kiss he laid on me yesterday, the question seems less curious friend and more jealous suitor. Life would be so much simpler if I wanted him the way he wants me.
“Mike had to take a group out. He wasn’t happy about it.” Blake comes around and flops next to me. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a handful of chips. “I’ll bet if you asked, he’d hire you back.”
That sounds great. But if I did that, I’d fall right back into my routine. I’d had to be desperate before I’d gather my courage to go after Jonas. I couldn’t let myself get complacent. “He fired me. I can’t go back to a place I’m not wanted.”
“So you’re going to sit around the house looking all kinds of gorgeous instead?”
I frown at him. “Blake.”
“Observation, not a come-on.” He held up his hands to ward off my lecture. “I’m just saying if you dress up like that, you ought to go out.”
“I don’t really feel like it.” I rise from the couch in search of a beer.
Blake follows me into the kitchen. Our kitchen might have been a set piece for a 1960’s film about poverty in the tropics. Broken, yellowed linoleum covered the floor. Stained pastel green paint chipped from the few cupboards. Gold speckled gray Formica bowed and dipped on the two foot long counter that contained a scratched and rusty white porcelain sink. The small size and lack of storage wasn’t an issue since we only have few mismatched dishes and a couple of pans. Aside from Ramen and peanut butter sandwiches, we don’t eat here much and most of the dishes sit on the counters waiting to be washed.
I feel him watching me as I lean into the refrigerator. At first, when we moved in, I felt self-conscious about living with a guy. I don’t have brothers and didn’t really know how guys behave. But Diana had no problem walking around in t-shirt and panties. She doesn’t get weirded out when Blake wanders out of his bedroom in shorts, with a morning wood popping through the opening in his boxers. So, I adjusted.
In the small space, with only one shower, we’d quickly gotten over someone using the sink while someone else was in the shower. I’m sure Blake has seen me naked. I’d caught a glimpse of him a couple of times. Trust me, not a hardship.
He’s a good-looking guy. Dark curls and tan, with a broad chest, he looks like a young George Clooney. He definitely doesn’t have any trouble with girls. Sometimes he spends a night out and I assume he hooked up with a cute tourist who has a hotel room. A few times I’ve heard wrestling and moaning from his room in the middle of the night and the next morning, whoever he was with would either slip out the front door or join Diana and me for a quick cup of coffee while waiting for her taxi..
I suddenly realize it’s been awhile since that’s happened. I try to remember the last time he had an overnight. Weeks, at least.
I’m starting to wonder if I’m the reason why.
I pull out two beers that immediately begin to bead in t
he hot, sticky kitchen. I hand one to Blake. “Are you going to change before we go out?” I tease. Screw it. Real date or not, I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit around and feel sorry for myself over the fact that I got stood up.
He glances down at his wrinkled t-shirt and board shorts, stiff with dried salt water. “What?”
“Suit yourself.” I shrug. “I’m not your mother. But you might have a hard time getting lucky if you don’t take a shower.”
He shifts through the dirty dishes on the counter, searching for the bottle opener. Finding it, he pops the top of my beer, then his own. Grinning, he clinks bottles with me. “First round’s on me.”
The Green Frog is hopping when we arrive. People crowd around every table and cram in at the bar. Diana’s smile looks strained and her tip-generating attitude had slipped considerably.
Pudge stands around a pub table with a whole new group of young people. Zach is nowhere to be seen. That’s something at least. “I can’t believe that asshole came back,” I say to Diana as she hurries to take them drinks.
She grimaces. “I’m making him pay cash before I serve him, and I’m taking a cut of the change.”
Blake muscles into the bar and returns with a pitcher of beer and two glasses. “Thought we ought to drink on a budget if my paycheck is going to stretch for two of us for a while.”
I don’t want him tightening his belt on my behalf. “You’re saving for Columbia. You can’t spend money on me.” Blake’s long-term goal is law school. Columbia is his dream school.
He fills our glasses. “I’m never going to afford Columbia. At best, maybe I can get a scholarship at a state university. Even with in-state tuition, I’ll be paying student loans most of my life.” He shrugs and passes me a glass. “So fuck it—I can buy you a beer.”
I knock back the cold beer. “Bullshit. You got wicked good scores on your LSAT. Schools are going to be fighting to give you money.”
Diana bumps into Blake and leans to me. “He didn’t show?”
I shrug. “I should have known he was a jerk.” I sound a lot more okay with it than I actually am.