by A. J. Sand
“Wait. E, you’re a goddamn genius. I should write these awesome ideas down. How many strippers would you be okay with? Do you have a hair color preference? Fully nude or thong? And C cups or DD?” Abel poked her in the side with an elbow, but he soon stopped walking and turned her to face him. He was wearing the solar eclipse of Elliott expressions: a serious one. “I really want us to have something nice for you and Bryson. Doesn’t have to be big. It’ll be Elliott-lite. And look, I bet you’ve already had this talk with Kai, and he’s, like, your best man of honor or whatever, but I need to tell you something, too. You’re still a part of all of this—all of us. Nothing changes once you’re married. Any of the guys here—the girls, too—we’d do anything for you. We’re still your family, babe, now…and after your divorce—”
“Abe!” She pretended to knee him in the crotch.
He flashed a devilish grin. “So, if Bryson steps out of line in any way, he’s got Elliott shit to deal with. My pretty boy brother will probably just give him a stern talking to, but I’m kicking rich kid ass, okay? All over Beverly Hills. Shoving his silver spoon right up there for ya…”
“Christ, the imagery, and I know, Abe.” She flung her arms around his neck and squeezed all her gratitude into him as tears settled in her eyes. None of them would ever need to do that, but he was right about something else; they were her family. Maybe one she had earned after suffering through the one she’d gotten. These were the people who would have sat in those front pews at her wedding. Actually, she had two amazing families now. “Gah. It hasn’t been just Kai with this talk. Lek, too. And the other guy who has your face. And Ribsy. But his was the least violent...by far. I’m not going off to war! I’m just adding someone awesome to our group!” As they pulled apart, she locked eyes with Jeremy in the distance. He was…glaring at her? What the hell was going on with him? She gulped down and wielded a smile at him that took effort to push it past simply looking strained. “Hey, has Jeremy seemed weird to you today? Every day since we’ve been here?”
Abel spun slowly, giving Jeremy a covert examination with his eyes before they continued their walk. “Only when he’s around Kai. It was like that in Bali, too, when we were living there. It’s pretty damn frosty between those two.” He shrugged. “Maybe he’s just worried about Kai overshadowing him. Friendly competition?”
“I guess…” she said, unconvinced. When they reached the group, she dropped Abel’s arm to go sit next to Jeremy on his blanket. “Why are you so far away from everybody?”
“Didn’t really feel like there was room for me over there…” He bumped her with his arm. “How was wedding planning? How’s the future Mr. Erica?”
“Great! Everything’s great!” she said, bumping him back. Erica lay against the blanket and his gaze drifted with her. There was nothing unusual about the way he was looking at her now, and that should’ve been a good thing, but what was that she had seen earlier? And why was it bothering her so much? Erica pushed the thought away. This was Jer. The guy who’d started a water pistol fight with her on the set of Evernight’s music video to break the ice between them. Maybe she was the one being weird. “Now, to convince my boss to let me squeeze in a few more personal days for me and Bryce’s trip. I’ve been working hard for that awesome album of his.”
Jeremy groaned loudly and shifted his eyes back to the water as his shoulder muscles tensed up. “I know, E, he’s the golden boy. He’s going platinum. He gets everything. Yay…Kai.”
“Are you seriously jealous, Jer?” Erica asked as she frowned at his back. “Things are still weird between you two?” He didn’t respond, so she smacked him on the back, her eyebrows rising. This was silly. “Jer, is everything okay? Are you okay?”
When he turned his head, Jeremy’s smile wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t wholly friendly, either. “I’m just perfect, E. Everything’s perfect.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, have you seen my friend, Abel Elliott?”
“Ha… ha!” Abel said when he spun around. He was standing on his patio, not yet dressed for the night, waxing one of his surfboards. “Don’t get jealous ‘cause your hair doesn’t swoosh around like mine does. And, wow, you look amazing.”
“Thanks. You look…wet.” She trailed him inside his house as he went to stick the surfboard on one of the racks where he and Wes kept them. The house was far quieter than she had ever heard an Elliott house be, with just the whisper of a soft, soulful song she vaguely recognized coming out of the speakers. “Where’s Wes?”
“No idea where baby bro is. He sent me a text from wherever he was and said to tell you hi. Okay, I’ll be ready in a sec; and trust me, my outfit will be Erica arm candy approved,” he said with a smile, but any cheerfulness stayed out of his eyes. He was in a bad mood, and he had probably gone surfing to cure it. She wondered if it was about Jamie. Via a text message rant from her, Erica now knew that she had ended things for good over Abel’s lack of willingness to move their relationship beyond the meeting of their privates. But Abel would never be like this over a woman, not even one as awesome as Jamie.
“You want something before we go?” Abel propped open the fridge. “Wesley and I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet, so there’s no decent food here—unless you want sliced deli meat—but tons of alcohol.”
“I’m okay with this.” Erica kicked her shoes off and walked over to the kitchen counter where a bottle of Chardonnay and a stained glass sat. “You’re drinking wine,” Erica said in amusement as she tipped just a swish from a bottle she opened into her glass before she pressed out a deep grin at Abel.
“Yeah…” Abel’s blue eyes narrowed in on her in confusion.
“I’ve never seen you drink anything you couldn’t get down aisle frat boy.”
Abel laughed, though halfheartedly. “Who knew the liquor store sold things you don’t have to mix or drink out of a shot glass?” he joked, but he couldn’t pass himself off as happy. He leaned forward on the counter and expelled a loud sigh. Now she wondered if he was still feeling guilty about maintaining his friendship with Jeremy for as long as he had last year after Kai and Jeremy’s altercation. He hadn’t known that Jeremy had attacked her, but he still seemed to be taking it hard that he hadn’t cut ties then. Erica had accepted his apology already, and it’s not like they were still friends. She wanted to cheer him up and that’s why she had invited him out in the first place. Tonight was supposed to be about rekindling their friendship, too.
Erica pivoted and gestured at the stereo system in the far corner of the room. “You’re listening to one of Kai’s ‘remember that time I fake-hated Dylan for five minutes?’ songs and drinking wine. So…was I supposed to bring over a Nicholas Sparks DVD box set?” When he didn’t smile back, she said, “Abe, what’s up?”
“I really don’t want to ruin your night.”
“Is this about Jamie, because Abe I love you as much as I do Naomi, but you know she deserves better.”
“Yeah… I know…” Abel nodded. “But this is about something else. That guy you told me about, the private investigator sniffing around. He showed up here earlier. I’ve been so focused on the Orioles cap. I’m such an idiot. I’ve been talking to him this whole time about me and our friends because I’ve been seeing him in the neighborhood walking his dog. Sometimes he drops by when we’re having something and hangs out ‘cause we invite all our neighbors over. We just assumed he was one of them. I think he’s been talking to people we’ve had over the house, too. I thought he was just a friendly old guy wanting to re-live his glory days. I’m so sorry, E.”
Fuck. She’d warned all her friends about this guy. And now they were being harassed because of her problems. God, she hated this shit. As Erica pinched the stem of the wine glass and spun it, heat raced down her body then a chilled ran up. Her heart was crashing against her breastbone, but to keep Abel from worrying, she spoke with as much control as she could. “He finally asked you about me.”
“Yeah… I told him I wouldn’t talk about you. I tol
d him you were one of the most amazing people I know and he should fuck off, but he said he just wanted some clarification about some things and he would go away. Then the asshole asked if we had…” As he folded his arms against his chest, Abel looked downtrodden for a moment then became infuriated. “…He asked if we had ever slept together. If I knew the nature of your relationship with the other men in your life. God, E, I’m so disgusted.”
“It’s okay, Abe, you can tell me.” But she was trembling and fighting hard to stand still against the counter. She took a deep breath to quiet her fear as best she could. Beyond that, it was incredibly embarrassing. “What else did he ask?”
Abel clenched his teeth and didn’t meet her gaze. “If you had ever propositioned me or come on to me. Or if I knew any guys you had done that to. Or if I’ve ever seen you go off with random guys after partying. If you drank a lot and got out of control and did stuff you claimed you couldn’t remember later. I pushed him and told him to get the fuck out of here. I threatened him.”
Yeah, they were going with the slut angle all right. It was a worthless argument because Bryson was the only guy she had been with for years, and anyone who said otherwise was a liar. But even if he weren’t, no amount of sleeping around would justify what Jeremy had done. So this was part of the price she would have to pay for standing up for herself. Fuck his story. As aggravating as it was to have these gaps in her mind that she couldn’t fill in, the present situation only reaffirmed the importance of capturing her own story while she still could.
“Has he talked to Wes, too?”
“He might’ve.” With a look of repulsion, Abel shook his head. “God, E, he’s been in here… I don’t even remember half the shit I might’ve told him when I was drunk or just shooting the shit with him.”
A blend of sadness, anger and frustration was cooking inside of her, but Erica suppressed it. She didn’t want to have to focus on this tonight. Nope. He wouldn’t get this night. It was supposed to be a celebration. “I’m really sorry, Abe. This is exactly—”
“You’re sorry, E? You’re sorry?” Irritation was heavy in his tone when he interrupted—like the day she had told them about the reluctant witness from Phuket—as his blue eyes lanced her. “Why are you sorry, Erica?”
Another case of a rarity from Abel: he hardly ever called her by her full first name. “Because this is exactly what I didn’t want, Abe.” Erica pressed her lips together, malevolence cutting through her, anger lashing her chest. “You shouldn’t have to be dealing with this.”
“And neither should you!” He pointed his gaze at the ceiling, fists balling at his sides. Abel’s broad chest was heaving and his skin was in a flush when he rounded the counter to hug her. His tone was far more apologetic when he spoke again. “Neither should you. Fuck, E.” His arms pulled her against him harder.
“I know… I know.” She did. “I’m not worried about me, though. I didn’t want this for any of us.”
Almost whispering, he continued, “I hate that he did that to you. I hate that I didn’t walk you back that night. I hate that everything got so screwed up. I hate that you left. I hate that I haven’t fucking killed him yet. I hate a lot a fucking things. I told you I would take care of you and I didn’t. I’m so sorry. I can’t say it enough. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Abe, you didn’t know it was him.” Erica tightened her arms around his neck. He was breathing so hard against her.
“But we suspected something had happened to you, E. We’re not stupid. We all considered something like that had happened to you. We all felt like we dropped the ball, but it was too terrible and much easier to live in the denial and just accept what you were telling us. We knew how you are about people fretting over you.” He tried to secretly wipe his eyes as they separated, but she had seen it before he turned his back on her. “…We backed off the theory a while when you reappeared in New York. It was just easier.”
She’d heard their suspicions in their voices, too, those times when they called while she was in Pennsylvania. She was pretty sure one of them had just straight up asked her if someone had done something to her, Odette probably. But Erica had trained herself well from studying public relations. She had kept her cool, making what she thought were plausible, regular excuses. The trip had opened her eyes to other things this time. She had been too busy in Los Angeles. Needed space from everything. Why trouble them with her confusing nightmares and physical illness in the aftermath of the rape? Even now there were certain details she wouldn’t share.
“I should go get ready,” Abel said as he walked away, but he stopped midway on the steps and looked at her. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Sorry. I think Wesley’s right about my approach.”
“Already forgiven. Don’t do it again. Hurry up. I’m already short one Elliott, the absence of two is just a travesty no one should have to suffer,” she said with a wink. While he was gone, she checked her cell, which she had been yearning to do since she left her apartment. There were no messages from Bryson. He hadn’t canceled, though. Yet. No, he would be there. She suppressed the bundle of nerves in her stomach with a quarter-filled glass of wine.
But there were two messages from Matt that had probably come in while she was driving over to Abel’s: Hope I’m not bothering you. Doing well so far and At bar number two =)
Erica: Awesome.
Matt: Yup. Can you believe I finally made some friends who aren’t you? Don’t know if that’s a good thing yet ;) But having a good time. No stress.
Well, that alleviated some of her guilt for not telling him about the Fading Fast show tonight. “Great, but don’t hesitate to text if you need me,” she said aloud as she typed.
Matt: I’m almost sad I’m having such a good time then. Enjoy your night.
In almost inhuman speed, Abel was back downstairs as she said goodbye to Matt, clean-shaven, hair somewhat tamed, misted with cologne and wearing a collared shirt over jeans and Converses. He spun around once and awaited her approval.
“Wow. You are arm candy, Abel Elliott!” Erica cupped her hands at the sides of her mouth. “Hide your girlfriends, boys! You clean up nice for a hippie surfer.” She grinned at him.
“There’s nothing quite like a pretty girl smiling at me like that.” Abel winked before he pulled her into a hug. “I’m ready to party, and I’m really glad to have my favorite dance partner back, too.” He took her hand and gestured with the other for her to spin around.
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Yeah, until someone more accessible comes along?”
“Pretty much, but just know that I’m happy to be your date right up until then… Hey, you wanna take the bike tonight for your big debut?” Abel grabbed his keys from a nearby hook. “It’s a Harley Sportser 1200 Custom,” he added, like that would actually mean anything to her.
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I didn’t have that much wine. It’s no vodka, baby.”
“And when did you get a bike?” Geez, she’d missed a lot.
“This past Christmas. Wesley dared me to buy one. You know we aren’t good at turning down dares and bets, especially from each other.” Abel shot a lighthearted smirk at her over his shoulder and held his hand out to her. “Oh…speaking of, you think you’re up for a dare, E?”
“Umm…” Erica took his hand with some reluctance, but Abel’s playful look soon faded when he swung his arm over her shoulders.
He was serious again and definitely not preparing to coax her into doing something crazy. “I don’t want to overstep, but when are you going to let Bryson back in like you have with the rest of us? Because that’s my dare for you.”
“I’m trying to, Abel. I’ve dared myself. But it’s not that easy.”
“Obviously, he’s not going to blame or question you about the ra—” Abel’s skin blanched as he snapped his lips shut; he still couldn’t bear to say the word. “…About what happened.”
“I know that, Abe, but there’s just so much more to work through. Like how
I didn’t come back. And now I’m back and it’s weird. We had a rough night last weekend.” And confusing, too. And sexy. Intense. Sad. Fun. It had been all those things.
“But he loves you, E.” Abel gripped her waist, squeezing with conviction, and his eyes stretched where he had emphasized. Erica blinked in disbelief when his expression didn’t shift into something more playful or when he didn’t crack an immediate joke. When had Abel Elliott become a champion of doing something just for love? Maybe she was wrong; perhaps his time with Jamie was more significant than he was letting on.
A grin exploded on her face and she gripped him by the shoulders. “It’s just that simple, Dr. Phil?” He looked at her like the answer should have been obvious as he shoved his arms through a distressed brown bomber jacket.
Abel displayed an expression of mild frustration. “You don’t believe it ‘cause it’s coming from someone who’s never had a serious relationship? Why does everyone think that just because I use my dick like I use my lungs it means I don’t get relationships?”
Erica burst out laughing. “I just didn’t expect your vision to be so…romantic, I guess.” She pinched one of his cheeks. He shrugged and led the way to the garage where his blue Harley was waiting. He motioned at it with pride, circling it as he pointed out features that her brain was simply filing away as gibberish. But it was beyond a lack of interest, she was thinking about what he had said and she wanted to believe it, too, even though she had a few reasons to be skeptical, like all the times she could’ve picked up the phone and called Bryson. Or when she could’ve come back to L.A. instead of moving to New York. Or how the investigation into her assault was so far from being settled…and that certainly would provide strain on their already wrecked situation.
“Don’t look at it like that. I’ve only ever crashed once, honest! Ask Wesley,” Abel said when he was back at her side. “And this was, like, right when I first got it. ”