by Starr, Tara
“Thief? Please. I had Giovanni Giannoni design it for me.” Putting the headboard down, right at my feet, I place both my hands on my hips and stare him down. “But you found out, didn’t you? And the moment you heard I had hired him, you were afraid you’d lose. No. You knew you were going to lose. And you just couldn’t stand it.”
“Oh, really? I knew I was going to lose? C’mon, Tess, why don’t you take a fucking chill pill and just admit you spied on me again? I didn’t steal shit from you.” He holds my gaze for a tense couple of seconds, and then continues. “In fact, and as you well know, I was the one that hired Giovanni Giannoni. And I paid handsomely for that too. If you think the board is going to believe that somehow you also hired Giovanni, you’ve lost your goddamn mind. I have the invoices to prove it, you know?”
“Invoices? And what do you think I have? A contract drawn up on toilet paper?” My voice becomes shriller by the second, but my heart is beating so fast that I can’t control myself. I’m so pissed I just want to choke him out. And definitely not in a kinky way.
“Yeah? I don’t know, Tess. Why don’t you enlighten me? A shrewd business woman like you ought to have some proof, sure.” I can see his fingers tightening around his headboard, and in his eyes, I can see that he won’t back down. He’s willing to go all the way with this fucking charade.
Unbelievable.
“I do have proof, asshole. Let me just call my office, and I’ll shove all the proof you want down your damn throat.”
“Yeah? I’ll do the same then,” he shoots back, and we both reach for our phones at the same time. It almost likes we’re both drawing guns, like in one of those Western films. All we need is a good whistler and some saloon doors will bust open out of nowhere. Because Clarendon Tower isn’t big enough for the two of us.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask him as he points his cellphone toward my headboard and snaps a picture. Without waiting for his reply, I do the exact same thing.
“Getting some proof of your treachery,” he says to me.
“Then you should be taking pictures of your own headboard, Austin,” I seethe.
“I’m not going to fall for that,” he whispers, shaking his head. Then, he takes one step forward, shoves his phone inside one pocket and grabs my headboard. “Your stole the design for my headboard, which means that this belongs to me.”
He tries to pull my headboard, so I just grab it as tight as I can.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask.
“Reclaiming what’s mine,” he snarls.
“Yeah? Why didn’t you ask? I’ll give you what’s yours,” I hiss back at him, and then just send my right foot flying against his ankle. The moment the tip of my heels connects with his leg, an expression of pain washes over his face and he takes one step back, immediately letting go of my headboard.
“What the hell?” he asks.
“Don’t mess with me, Austin,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Or what?” he asks, anger in his eyes.
Is he actually challenging me? Because I won’t back down. If he’s willing to stoop this low to win the contest, then I’m more than willing to kick his ass. And yeah, I mean it. I might be a girl, but I guarantee you—nothing brings down a man faster than a kick in the balls.
I grip my headboard so tight that all blood drains from my fingers and, before I can stop myself, I lift the damn thing up. Austin cocks one surprised eyebrow at me, and I swing the whole headboard in his direction as if it were a battle-axe.
“What the fuck are you doing, Lancelot?” He asks me, jumping back and avoiding a direct hit.
“Admit it,” I insist, preparing to swing at him again. “You spied on me, and you stole the design!”
“Fat fucking chance, Tess!” He replies, my headboard moving fast toward him again. To avoid being hit, this time he has to raise his headboard like a shield, and mine smashes against it with a loud thump. Wood splinters fly everywhere, and I hear a few screams around us as a crowd starts to form.
Yeah, these assholes want a show?
I’ll give them a show.
“You’re batshit crazy,” he mutters. Well, shit, what a high and mighty thing to say, given that now he’s the one using his headboard like a fucking broadsword. He brings it down in a fast arch, using it to break mine in half. More wood splinters fly everywhere, and I’m left holding two separate pieces in my hand. Gritting my teeth, I throw one of them away and hold the other with both my hands.
“This isn’t fucking Star Wars, Tess,” he tries to say, but I silence him by battering his headboard with the remaining piece of wood in my hands. Each blow I strike on him echoes throughout the lobby, and a grin spreads over my lips as I see all the ornaments on his headboards completely ruined.
“And this isn’t The Thomas Crown Affair either,” I cry out. “So stop stealing my shit!”
“I never stole your shit,” he spits out. “You were the one that started this shitshow when you spied on me. What did you use to say? Business is war, huh?”
“Yeah, it is war,” I growl, this time using what’s left of my headboard as a battering ram. Rushing toward him, I smash it straight against his, breaking it in half just like he did to mine. I can hear all these assholes around us snapping pictures, the echoes of their ooohs and aaahs crawling deep into my mind and fueling my rage. “What? Never seen a business meeting go down?” I ask them, and a few of them actually jump back, afraid I might give them chase.
Yeah, Tess ‘Psycho’ Armstrong is in the house.
Charging again, I force Austin to back down until I have him pinned against the receptionist’s counter. I move forward, hellbent on spearing him, but he just jumps on top of the counter.
“It’s over, Tess!” he cries out. “I have the high ground!”
“This isn’t over,” I growl back, swinging the headboard fast. He jumps up, and the wood flies right under his feet. Climbing down from the counter, he pushes his headboard against mine, and somehow manages to flick it out of my hands.
Fuck.
Defenseless, I use the deadliest weapon a woman has in her arsenal—high heels. Bending over, I grab one of my heels and throw it toward him, the spike of my heel flying across the air like a dagger.
Austin doesn’t move.
Acting all cool as if he were in The Matrix, he simples raises both hands up and catches my spinning heel between his hands.
“There’s more from where that came from,” I growl, already reaching for my remaining hell. As I start to aim at Austin, I see two police officers in uniform rush into the lobby.
“STOP! The two of you!”
Great. What now?
“What’s the matter?” I ask them, my tone more aggressive than I intended it to be.
“Jesus, cool it, lady!” One of the officers yells at me, and only then do I realize that I’m aiming the heel at his head. Slowly, I peel my fingers off the shoe and let if fall to the floor. “Good. This ends now.”
Moving toward Austin, handcuffs glinting in his hands, the other policeman moves towards him. He offers no resistance as the cop slaps cuffs on him, and I watch as the other one starts walking toward me.
“No way,” I hiss as he prepares to cuff me as well.
“Regulations, ma’am,” he insists, maintaining some distance from him. Probably afraid I’m going to bite his head off. “People called the station and told us there was a…fight going on here.”
“Fine, have it your way.”
Sighing heavily, I feel the cold metal of the handcuffs around my wrists, and then I’m led toward the police car waiting outside, almost every single Clarendon Tower resident ogling and snapping pictures.
What should’ve been my day of glory, has quickly turned into Tess’s National Day of Shame.
I can’t believe this.
The man I love…causing the worst day of my life.
I…just…can’t. I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t go on. I
can’t keep talking to you. I’m ending this chapter right now.
I’m sorry.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Austin
“Hello, there Jailbird,” Taylor greets me.
The officer holds open the door and I nod to him, merely just to acknowledge his presence. I’m fucking pissed I got arrested. To me, it doesn’t make any fucking sense.
This is some fucking bullshit, that’s for sure. We were barely causing a scene. What happened between Tess and I was merely a scuffle between two competitive friends.
Friends with benefits.
And, so maybe it spilled out onto the lobby. Have you ever been to New York? That shit happens all the fucking time.
I run my hands through my hair, rubbing the stale piss and sweat off my face.
You might not believe me, but this is my first time in a jail cell. And, trust me, it’ll be my last. If I could not brush shoulders with Mr. Pinkie sporting assless chaps again in my life, I’d be a happy camper. Though, I’m not going to lie, it was an entertaining few hours to say the least.
“Hey, thanks man. I appreciate you bailing me out,” I pull Taylor in for a hug.
“No sweat. You do owe me a drink,” he punches my shoulder. “Bail is not cheap. And that fucking scene you made…well, let’s just say, there’s a lot you have to do to re-establish your reputation in Clarendon Tower. Again,” he’s lips curls in a ‘sucks to be you’ smile.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I argue.
“To you, maybe” is all he says.
Taylor opens the door for me, seeing as I’m still collecting my belongings, tucking them away into my various pockets.
“Oh, shit,” I hold up my hands before my eyes, squinting when the sun sears into them.
“Dude, you’ve been in the joint for less than a day. Calm down,” Taylor teases.
“You have no idea how dark it is in there. This is fucking drastic,” I admit.
The sounds of the busy street surround me, but one voice cuts through the clatter.
“Hey,” Tess says, softly. And, the details of her figure fill in when I step closer. She’s standing next to Ashley, who has a somber look on her face.
God, Tess is a breath of fucking fresh air.
“Hey,” I mutter. “How are you?”
“Good,” she looks down at her hands, her fingers pulling at her skin. “I only have a few bruises to my ego.”
I chuckle, understanding where she’s coming from.
The last time I saw this woman, we were swatting fucking headboards at each other. And in the lobby of fucking Clarendon Tower. I feel like I should still be pissed at her, but I’m not.
Maybe, it was being handcuffed by a 300-pound cop that sobered me up. Or, it’s seeing her now, looking so defeated and exhausted using Ashley as a crutch. Rather than competing with her, again, I want to hold her in my arms and tell her everything’s going to be ok. I want to reassure and comfort her. Even though, I have no idea if it will be.
“Thanks for waiting, Ashley,” Taylor says. “Let’s go get a drink or something. We have something to tell you guys.”
Taylor darts his eyes between Tess and I, and I can a secret that they’re keeping.
“Uhh…ok,” I tilt my head, testing him.
“Yeah, you’ll need a drink for this,” he pats my back and leads me towards the bar on the corner.
* * *
We settle in, with me across from Tess and Taylor opposite of Ashley. I look around, assessing the bar we’re at. It’s a ridiculously hipster venue, and I roll my eyes, hating every minute of this fake bullshit. I would never be here if it wasn’t for the urgency in Taylor’s voice.
“We sincerely apologize for what happened,” Ashley breaks the silence between us. “With the whole Giannoni incident. It was all my fault,” she admits, sipping her white wine.
“What do you mean, all your fault?” Tess twist her body to face her square on.
“Well…” Ashley clears her throat and glances up at Taylor, almost like she needs back-up.
She continues. “I found the number of Giovanni Giannoni on Taylor’s desk. I snooped and looked at the file. That’s when I found out that he was this world-renowned designer. I knew I had to tell you, Tess,” she reaches for her, grabbing onto her elbow to emphasize her point. “But apparently, Taylor had the same idea.”
“We wanted to help the both of you in the competition. We just shared the same information to both of you,” Taylor jumps in, trying to throw Ashley a fucking life preserver.
“Oh…I see,” Tess turns back to face me, and clasps her hands together between us.
“Wow, ok.” I nod my head, not wanting to understand but I do appreciate them looking out for us.
Let’s be honest, if it were Tess and I, we would probably do the same.
“Seriously, Austin. It was an innocent mistake,” Taylor says in defense.
“I understand. I do,” I take a gulp of my whisky. It stings worse than my usual. It’s not the typical top-shelf I order, considering their top shelf here is about half the quality.
“Seriously, don’t blame her,” Taylor jabs back, sliding his drink over to him.
“It’s ok. We probably would’ve done the same,” Tess admits, and glances over at me. Did she read my fucking mind?
“There’s another thing,” Taylor says, letting his words linger on his tongue.
“Yeah?” I ask, not really wanting to know but my as well get this shitshow over with.
Ashley looks away from the table, but then swivels back to Tess in a swift motion. “It’s too late. You missed the contest.”
“Excuse me?” Tess spits out vodka and soda, almost choking on it.
“You missed the contest, both of you,” Taylor adds, looking at us with all sincerity. “Being handcuffed and jailed kind of makes you ineligible. Especially when that’s the reason why you didn’t show up to the contest at all.”
“Jesus Christ,” I lean my elbows on the table, running my hands in frustration.
“Clarendon Towers has decided to keep looking,” Ashley says, distress coating her voice.
“Are you serious?” Tess whimpers, covering her mouth to try to hush her emotions overwhelming her.
I reach for her hand across the table, but she moves it away.
Fuck.
Don’t do that. Please don’t do that, baby.
“Tess…” I plead, but she ignores me, not moving her gaze from Ashley.
“We will be here if you need any help, and we’ll let you know if anything changes,” Taylor says, reassuringly. He finishes his drink. “And, seriously, we wish you the best of luck. There’s a reason why you both were in the final round.”
Ashley and Taylor both stand up, their seat screeching across the concrete floor.
“You don’t need my luck. But, please, let me know if you need anything,” Ashley reaches for Tess’s hand, wrapping into hers in a warm, comforting gestures. “Jut let me know if there is anything I can do.” She kisses her on the cheek and turns towards Taylor.
He holds his hand out and she grabs it, and they walk together, hand in hand, towards the exit. It’s like a fucking thriller movie, two accomplices walking together out the door as the world collapses around them. That’s how I feel right now. Expect I’m the one standing there watching this happen. I’m the extra in the back falling into those deep crevices, convincing the audience I’m dead.
I watch my world fade to black and turn back to Tess, who’s quietly sobbing into her hands. I reach up and tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
“I can’t believe this happened,” she says between shallow breaths.
“I know,” I say, not knowing what else to say because I can’t believe it either.
“This is the first time I’ve ever lost,” she wipes her tears away and her mascara-stained face looks up at me, her eyes droopy like a puppy dog.
“Me too, baby.”
She wipes her stains away aggressively and snif
fles, trying to calm herself.
“You’ve never lost before?” she asks.
“No, this is my first time.” I nod with a small smile. “But you want to know something that might make you feel better?”
I reach for her hands and cradle them in mine, my thumb rubbing over her soft skin. I look between her hands and her eyes, wanting her to know how sincere I am.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“We’ve lost for the first time, but we lost together. There’s a first for everything,” I declare, lifting her folded fists up to kiss them.
She shakes her head and a quiet chuckle emerges from her lips.
“We did. We both lost,” she says, her ocean blue eyes staring at me and for a second, I feel adrift. I almost forget that I lost the competition because with her I find myself losing all sense of self. I know I’ve lost my fucking mind and I’m beginning to think I’ve lost so much more than that.
She jerks her hands out of my hold and looks away, gathering her purse. It pushes me back into my chair and I look around me, wondering if anyone else saw her abruptness or if it was just me.
“I’m sorry…” she stammers. “I can’t be here. I can’t face you.”
She stands up and my body has lost all mobility, unable to bring her back to me.
“Tess,” I start. “I love you.”
She looks at me with tears in her eyes.
“I love you too,” she says. “But love isn’t supposed to hurt, Austin. And that’s all I feel when I look at you.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
So I stay silent.
“I can’t do this,” she admits and then walks away.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tess
Life sucks.
One moment you’re on top of the world, the next you’re sitting on the back of a cop car, the opportunity of a lifetime slipping through your fingers. Why the hell things had to turn out like this?
I had the perfect headboard I needed to win the contest. I was hours away from signing the deal, and I was almost sure that Austin wouldn’t be a sore loser about it. In the back of my mind, I held to the notion that he’d act nonchalant about my win, and that our relationship will continue, this time without all the bitter rivalry.