Say the Word

by Julie Johnson

  My head told me in a calm, rational tone that I should be glad he had someone else to distract him from his mission to discover what had happened between us seven years ago.

  My heart let out a battle cry and decked itself out in war-paint, beating a drum and sharpening a spear as it prepared to engage Cara in a savage altercation that would leave no doubt about who Sebastian belonged to.

  I fought against my more primal instincts and managed to talk myself off the edge. Not very far off — just a step or two back from the brink — but enough that I could turn my eyes back to my laptop and at least pretend to focus on my story. My gaze may have been averted, but my ears were finely attuned to every word that escaped Cara’s Maybelline-endorsed Very Berry lips.

  “Baby, wait until you see my dress for Centennial! It’s Vera Wang. Totally gorgeous.”

  “Cara, you’re late.” I was relieved to hear the frustrated undercurrents in Sebastian’s voice — a common occurrence whenever he spoke to the model. “We had the ’50s shoot this morning. You missed it.”

  “Well, I’m here now,” Cara whined, her voice that of a petulant child. “Let’s go shoot it.”

  “I don’t need you here, Cara. Go home.”

  “What do you mean, ‘you don’t need me?’ I’m the lead model for this spread.”

  I could sense her pouting from across the room.

  “We shot it without you,” Bash said, his voice weary. “So come back tomorrow. On time.”

  “What did you say?” Cara screeched.

  “You heard me, Cara. And don’t act so surprised — you know my rules. You didn’t show up; I replaced you. End of story.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Cara’s shrill tone made everyone in the office flinch. “I’m calling Jeanine about this.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Cara stormed to the elevators — or so I thought. When the unmistakable sound of her clomping heels came to a halt directly next to my work station, I looked up to find the model’s glaring eyes narrowed on my face.

  “While I’m on the phone with Jeanine, I’ll be sure to tell her what an absolute fuck up you’ve been here,” she sneered at me. “After the stunt you pulled with my salad, I wanted you fired right away. Sebastian convinced me that your working here would make up for it, though, so I didn’t say anything.” She looked at me with the malicious excitement of a small boy who’d pinned an ant beneath his magnifying glass on a hot summer day. “But you haven’t suffered here at all. In fact, the way I see it, he treats you better than he treats me. So I’ll be speaking to Jeanine about you after all, skank, and I’ll make sure you walk away from here without your job.”

  With a final glare, she turned and exited the building. My wide eyes flew from her retreating form to Sebastian, who was already striding in my direction. Beneath the watchful eyes of the score of people in the office, he grabbed my arm and led me to the emergency exit stairwell. When the heavy metal door swung shut at my back, isolating us in the abandoned stairway, he turned to me and let out an exasperated breath.

  “What did she say to you?” he asked, running one hand through his hair.

  I leaned back against the cool cinderblock wall, as far as I could get from him on the small landing. “Just that she’s going to call my boss and get me fired.”

  “Shit.” With a sigh, he leaned against the opposite wall, directly across from me.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed roughly, trying to quell my worry.

  “Well, it’s not like you enjoy your job, anyway,” Bash’s tone was amused and a quiet chuckle escaped his lips. “Writing about bubble bath and Beyoncé isn’t really your style. No huge loss.”

  I lifted incredulous eyes to him. “You think this is funny? Losing my job and only source of income is laughable to you?”

  “Lux, I was kidding.” He cracked a smile. “You don’t have to worry about your job. Cara has no power. She might huff and puff and blow a whole lot of smoke up your boss’ ass, but at the end of the day nothing will come of it. She’s a pretty face, nothing more.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned, taking a step in my direction and closing some of the gap between us. “But if you want, I can call Jeanine and smooth whatever feathers Cara manages to ruffle.”

  “Really?” I asked, swallowing nervously as I watched him move closer.

  “Of course.” His smile was warm as he took one final step and entered my space fully. I felt my mouth go dry when he leaned down so our faces were at eye level. “For a price,” he whispered against my lips.

  I let out an embarrassing nervous squeak and tried to shrink back against the wall, but there was nowhere to go.

  “Nervous, Freckles?” he asked, his voice amused. “Whatever for? You haven’t even heard the price yet. And from what I remember of last night — I think you might enjoy my price quite a bit.”

  Breathe. Just breathe. Ignore everything he just said. Don’t think about how much you would definitely enjoy any price he set for you. Don’t drool on him — that would be bad. And do not, under any circumstances, let him kiss you.

  “I’m not nervous,” I lied, placing both palms against his chest and pushing him slightly out of my space. “You should be, though. I’m pretty sure this is sexual harassment.” My small grin of triumph dissipated as soon as he leaned against my hands, his breath once again ghosting across my lips and sending shivers down my spine.

  “Freckles, you can sexually harass me any time you want.”

  “I hate you, remember?” I smiled at him caustically, not realizing my poor word choice until I saw his eyes go liquid with heat — there was no doubt he recalled yesterday evening, the last time I’d said those words to him.

  Shit. Seeing those memories in his gaze, I felt my own control slipping away.

  “Oh, I remember,” he whispered. His eyes watched my mouth as he leaned forward, his pupils dilating when my tongue darted out to wet my parched lips. He came ever closer, and I waged an internal war. I wanted his kiss, needed it, more than my next breath — but that didn’t mean I could have it.

  I should’ve moved away, skirted around him, darted for the door.

  Instead, I froze and simply watched as his lips came toward mine. Our mouths were mere millimeters apart when a knock sounded on the metal stairwell door, snapping me out of my lustful haze. We sprang apart just as the entry swung open.

  Angela popped her head inside. “Sebastian, we need your opinion on the final proofs. We’re about to send off the first five decades to the publication team for review.”

  “Okay, be right there,” Bash called. Angela disappeared back into the office, the door swinging shut behind her with a resounding boom. He turned his head back to meet my eyes, an amused smirk on his face.

  “Saved by the bell,” he murmured, his eyes still burning. “Any chance you want to pick this up at my place after work?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to get my breathing under control. “Absolutely not.”

  He smirked. “Right. ‘Cause you hate me.”

  “Right.” I nodded sharply.

  “That’s fine, Freckles. You’re just making this more fun.” He grinned. “See, I’ve got a new strategy.”

  I didn’t dare ask what he was talking about, but steeled myself when he stepped close once more and backed me up against the wall with his frame. He pressed a soft kiss against my lips, then whispered a string of words that made me curse myself for my own inability to walk away.

  “You might think you’re the villain in my story, Lux, but what you don’t seem to realize is that I don’t care. Princess or Evil Queen, I want you standing by my side when the tale comes to an end. So I’m not walking away — I’m going to wear you down, until you’re ready — no, until you’re dying — to tell me what happened back then.” Another kiss landed on my lips, and I fought off a tremble of desire. “And Freckles?”

  My eyes flickered up to meet his searing gaze.

  “It’s going to be a hell
of a lot of fun.”

  ***

  I was stirred from my reverie by a familiar voice.

  “What’s with the horse impersonation?”

  Turning on my stool, I quirked an eyebrow at Fae, who’d just arrived at the bar with Simon in tow.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The long face,” Simon explained.

  I rolled my eyes. “Hardy har har.”

  They settled in on the stools to my either side and quickly put in orders for their own drinks with a passing bartender. I was still nursing my first glass of Merlot.

  “Bad day?” Fae asked.

  “The worst.”

  “Well, cheer up, chicky. I’ve got good news,” she said, fishing around in her purse for a moment and pulling out a legal-sized envelope. She slapped it down on the bar in front of me, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “Am I good, or am I good?”

  “If this is what I think it is, you aren’t just good — you’re freaking great.” I picked up the envelope lightly, hope flaring to life in my chest at the feeling of the thick paper beneath my fingertips.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re all wonderful,” Simon intoned in a bored voice. “Open the damn thing.”

  I worked my right index finger beneath the seal, ripping the thin package open with care not to tear anything inside. I held my breath as I reached into the envelope and pulled out a stapled stack of sheets. There were probably at least twenty printed pages, but with just a cursory glance I could tell Fae’s “guy” had come through for us. Big time.

  The first few sheets contained a brief history of Labyrinth, which I mostly skimmed through. The final section of papers held the most vital information — a master list of members’ names, dating back fifty odd years. I heard Fae’s audible intake of air and could feel Simon vibrating with excitement as their eyes scanned through some of the figures on the list. My own heart began to race as I saw this was no mere collection of socialites and society members.

  No, the monikers that caught my eye were household names — business moguls, multibillionaire technology mavens, United States congressmen, movie stars, political party leaders, and even, if I wasn’t mistaken, the Vice President himself. They were the people you saw on your television every morning when you turned on the news, and every night when you sat down for some mindless after-dinner entertainment.

  The leaders of our country were on this list. Powerful, far-reaching people with a vested interest in keeping any affiliation with a place like Labyrinth a secret. The information in this dossier was prized. And it had somehow landed in the hands of three overworked, underpaid, fashion magazine employees at a trendy bar in Midtown.

  Suddenly, it didn’t seem like a good idea to be reading it out in public. In fact, it didn’t seem like a good idea to be reading it at all.

  “Maybe we should…” Simon trailed off, casting his eyes around the bar at the fellow happy-hour indulgers.

  Fae was already reaching for her wallet. “Pay the bill and get the fuck out of here before anyone sees that?” she finished.

  “My thoughts exactly,” I muttered, shoving the papers back inside the envelope and tucking them deep down in the recesses of my purse where they couldn’t be seen.

  As soon as the tab was paid, we headed for the door. The three of us waited for a cab, shrouded in an uneasy silence so unlike our typical nonstop chatter, until Fae leaned forward to whisper in my ear.

  “Did you see it?”

  “See what?” I whispered back.

  She held my eyes for a beat, a flicker of unease flashing across her face. “One of the names on the list…”

  “Yeah?” I prompted.

  “It was Senator Covington.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Then

  “Yahtzee!”

  “How are we even related?” Jamie snorted. “This is poker. You don’t yell ‘Yahtzee’ in poker.”

  “I have a royal flush and just whooped your ass — I’ll yell whatever I damn well please!” I grinned.

  “She must be cheating.” Bash shook his head. “Maybe she’s counting cards?”

  Jamie snorted. “Oh, please. She’s not that smart.”

  “Hey!” I objected.

  “I think it’s more likely that you’re going easy on her,” Jamie said. “To keep her from whining about her losses all night.”

  “Or maybe Bash is just a shitty dealer,” I chimed in, sticking out my tongue in my boyfriend’s direction.

  Bash raised his brows at me. “Oh, really? Well maybe you should walk home tonight.”

  I turned to Jamie with a shameful look on my face. “He forgets that his keys are in my purse,” I said, nodding in Bash’s direction. “It’s all looks, no brains with this one.”

  At that, Bash leapt from his seat and pulled me into a playful headlock. “Someone’s asking for it, today,” he muttered, tickling my side with his free hand. I giggled, squirming in his arms so I could look up at his face.

  “I might be asking for it,” I whispered slowly, a telltale blush rising to my cheeks. Bash leaned in to bump his nose against mine.

  “Later,” he promised in a whisper.

  Jamie began to wretch loudly, his fake-vomiting antics a clear protest of our mini PDA session. “Seriously, you guys are gross. Watching that two second interaction was more painful than a two hour round of chemo, I swear to you.”

  Laughing, I detached from Sebastian and hopped up on the bed next to Jamie. I snuggled lightly into his side, laid my head on his shoulder, and wrapped an arm around his midsection.

  “You nervous?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  I felt Jamie’s body tense slightly. “A little,” he admitted, his voice unsteady.

  I hated that he was afraid.

  “You’re gonna do great, man,” Bash said, settling into the chair on the other side of Jamie’s hospital bed.

  “Dr. Huntington has a spotless record, and I asked all the nurses about him,” I revealed. “He’s one of the best surgeons on staff. You’ll be in great hands, Jamie.”

  “It’s not that,” he said flatly, staring down at his left leg which, after tomorrow, wouldn’t be there anymore.

  “I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I wish there was another way.”

  We fell into sad moment of reflection, each wrapped up in our individual musings, until Sebastian cleared his throat and shattered the heavy silence.

  “I know this is a few weeks late, and I feel like a real dick for hanging onto it for so long,” Bash said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out an envelope. A red adhesive Christmas bow, flattened from its time in his pocket, was affixed to the top. “Merry Christmas, man.”

  He handed the thin package to Jamie, who accepted it with a stunned expression.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything,” Jamie said, eyeing the envelope curiously. “And now I feel like a dick. Your gift may be late, but I didn’t even bother to get you anything.”

  Bash laughed. “Well, before you convince yourself that I’m entirely selfless, just open it.”

  Jamie happily tore into the paper and pulled out two vouchers. The familiar hammer sigil alongside trademark blue and red script made them instantly identifiable.

  “Dude! This is sweet!” Jamie grinned, holding the Braves tickets aloft. “I’ve never been to a major league game!”

  “That second one’s for me,” Bash noted, grinning. “See? Not so selfless after all.”

  Jamie laughed, reading the tickets more carefully. “Wait, are these…” he trailed off. “No way! No freaking way!”

  He sat straight up in bed, his excitement tangible and his sudden movements launching me onto the floor.

  “Care to enlighten me?” I asked Sebastian, arching an eyebrow as I regained my balance. I’d never seen my brother so excited.

  Bash laughed, watching with a happy smile as Jamie practically bounced up and down in anticipation. “They’re VIP Meet & Greet passes. You get to tour Turner Field before
the game, meet all the players, take photos, get autographs… It’s supposed to be awesome.”

  “Wow,” I murmured, more than a little in awe of my boyfriend. He’d managed to turn this day of mourning and grief into one of light and joy for my brother — a price I’d never be able to repay. Slipping one hand into his, I squeezed lightly and dropped my head against his shoulder. “I love you.”

  Bash kissed the top of my head. “The tickets are flexible, so we can choose a game once the season kicks off and Jamie’s feeling up for it.”

  “Dude, if this isn’t motivation for me to master my prosthetic in record time, I don’t know what is,” Jamie muttered, still unable to unglue his eyes from the tickets in his hands. “I’m gonna run a lap around the bases.”

  I turned to face the wall, not wanting Jamie to see the moisture filming my eyes. But, in a happy twist of fate, they weren’t sad tears.

  They were joyous.

  ***

  “Lux?” Minnie called from the kitchen. “That boyfriend of yours called. Said his plans changed and he can pick you up tonight after all.”

  “Okay thanks, Min!” I called back. I was in the front, wiping down tabletops and refilling condiment bottles after a busy Saturday night at the diner. Her announcement was a pleasant surprise. Bash made it a habit to pick me up after my shifts each night — tonight was one of the rare nights he’d said he couldn’t make it. His mother had dragged him away for the weekend to visit one of his great aunts who apparently controlled a vast amount of financial assets and required some annual ass-kissing to guarantee the Covingtons weren’t forgotten in her will. I wondered how he’d managed to escape early enough to pick me up.

  Most nights he waited inside for me to finish cleaning after closing time — he’d charmed Minnie during their first meeting and from then on she’d been more than thrilled to let him keep us company. At the beginning I’d protested, saying he had much better things to do with his nights than help fill empty salt and pepper shakers, but he’d worn me down, insisting that no time spent with me was wasted. Tonight, as the minutes ticked by and Bash failed to appear at the front door, I felt a flutter of unease in my stomach. Maybe he wasn’t coming after all.