by A. J. Sand
“So where’s this guy of yours? The one whose honor your crazy friend was defending. Ring guy.”
“Ring guy is on his way…” And as she trailed off, looking away for a moment, she wondered how convincing she’d sounded. Ring guy probably didn’t want another emotionally tumultuous night with her.
“So where are your friends you were with when you sent the text? Did they diss you for girls or what? ‘Cause I haven’t seen you talk to a single other person besides me tonight,” she said.
“Ooh, burn! Not true. I had that brief and scary conversation with your really protective friend, remember? Wait, how do you know that? You’ve been spending your night so far watching me?” His lopsided grin made its triumphant return.
“Just making sure you’re okay.” She smiled back, but she turned her look to one of concern. “Are you?”
“Right now? With you? Yes,” he teased, but he, too, got serious. “I feel comfortable here. Helps knowing you’re in the room, too.” As his hands held her hips with a firmer grip, his blue eyes were pinned to hers for a moment, and he dampened his lips and started to say something but abruptly shifted his mouth back into a smile.
“Okay, you’re being really weird…”
“More than usual?” Matt said before he leaned in to her ear, his cheek grazing hers. “Thank you for everything.” Then he dotted his warm lips near her earlobe before pulling back.
The finality in his tone socked her in the chest. “Whoa. Are you really defriending me in person right now?” she joked. “Ouch.”
“I just wanted to make sure I told you.” But there was strain in his expression. Something wasn’t right. “And plus, I think your brother-in-law is…”
“Scary?”
“Ha. No, I think he’s about to cut in. I’ll see you later. They may be the ones on stage, but you’re definitely the star tonight.” Matt pecked a kiss on her forehead and slipped into the crowd. And when she turned, she saw Fitz shoving his way toward her with a trail of people behind him. He pulled her out of the crush of bodies when his friends started jumping around and grinding on each other. Erica jumped when two palms smacked her ass, and Gabi dropped her chin to her shoulder. “Come on, baby, let’s dance!” she demanded, and after yanking Carlos toward them, she shouted, “Erica sandwich!” And sure enough, she was soon trapped between their bodies. Once freed, she danced with a few of Carlos’ friends before Fitz stole her away. He linked their fingers, and he swung her around erratically to the music, even lifting her in the air before he cleared a circle in the crowd and attempted to break dance. In actuality, it was one sloppy half-spin on his back.
“Naomi wants to risk having babies with those genes?” Abel whispered when he came up to her, and he offered his hand.
“Apparently,” she said, laughing, as he led her away to a less dense area of the club. Abel locked her hands around his hard torso from the back as he moved his body in a wave. Then he thrashed his hips roughly against hers before his ramming backside hurled her several steps back. There was nothing sexy about it—comically frightening, maybe—which was purposeful.
“Are you trying to get pregnant?” she asked when he turned to face her again. She draped her arms around his shoulders, and they rocked in a more subtle way to the beat.
He squeezed her waist and smirked. “Girl, those moves would earn the most dollars in a strip club. I didn’t even get to the part where I bend over and make my butt cheeks clap together.” Abel angled to the side and started to reach for his toes.
“No! Please, for the sake of our dear baby Lord, do not.” Erica was laughing so hard it hurt to breathe and her eyes watered. “You’re trying to cheer me up about Bryson, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah… I called.” Abel’s cheery expression fell. “Sorry. Went straight to voicemail.”
“It’s all right. I’m having a great time.” A half-truth. It wasn’t all right, but she really was having fun, and she was glad Abel dropped the subject as they danced through a few more songs. But she let him go when the brunette reappeared in the vicinity. A glance at the entrance revealed that people were still trying to get in. It didn’t quite make up for Bryson’s absence, but the crowd wasn’t thinning very quickly, either.
Taking a moment to relish what was happening, she surveyed the swaying crush until her gaze landed on Matt. Before they exchanged waves, he turned sheepish, and she knew that he had been staring at her before she glanced over at him. Erica was suddenly wracked with guilt. He was clearly still dealing with his feelings for her. Hopping off the stool, Matt gestured for her to remain where she was; he was coming over.
“Hey, Erica.” The sudden sound of the voice behind her gave her chills, and she started to walk away, but a hand closed around her arm, so she turned instead. Adam Scott was standing there almost looking friendly. Her pulse rate accelerated beneath his grip and she stared at his hand until he let go.
“Adam,” she said coldly, defensively. Adam hadn’t done anything to her directly, but she judged him by his association with Chase, so it was admittedly hard for her to see him as an autonomous individual. She’d associated him with that paralyzing fear she’d felt last October when she ran into him and Chase here in L.A., but now that it was manifesting as anger, he bore the burden of that, too. “What do you want?” She sharpened her eyes on him.
He flexed an uncomfortable smile. “Been a weird few months…and I…” His gray eyes shifted from one side to the other, and he gulped down several times. Okay, so she was putting on her best show of courage, and it was genuine, but even she wouldn’t have described herself as intimidating enough for him to be reacting like this. “I guess…I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved toward you.”
Come again? Skepticism made her eyebrows rise. “Really?”
He shrugged. “Chase and I don’t hang out much these days, and I’m seeing things a little differently. He got me involved in a lot of shit with people. I don’t want to be like that anymore. I can’t. I heard you were back in town, and I wanted to clear the air between us so…can we? Maybe catch up sometime?” He held out his hand with a hopeful look that she would accept his verbal peace offering.
Adam had not been as forward as Chase in his game of vague taunts at her the night she had called Kai in tears and frantic. It was bad enough that she had thought Jeremy was going to be there, but then Chase had resorted to making vile sexual jeers to evoke discomfort in her. It had been an awful night. Adam may not have been the one uttering the words, but the cruel way he’d displayed his amusement with riotous laughter as he stood behind Chase had never left her.
“I appreciate you doing this, but I’m not sure what to say right now…” she said, and she was still debating whether she should shake his hand; although, this entire interaction had piqued her interest in the reason behind his change of heart. He and Chase had just been together at Wintervention earlier in the year.
“Okay, I get that and I doubted we’d ever really be friends again. I’m only asking for civility,” he countered with his hand still dangling, and after a sigh, she took it. It wasn’t like they were going to have sleepovers and tell each other secrets over tubs of ice cream. Adam’s lips finally curled into a tiny smile, but it vanished as soon as she blinked. “Look…there’s something you need to kn—”
“Erica…” Matt strolled up to her side and clutched her hand. He was looking pretty anxious. “Can we talk for a sec?” He pulled her away from Adam before she had a chance to say anything to either of them, but she heard the faint sound of him calling after her before she lost sight of him.
“Are you okay? Panic attack? Do you need to get out of here?” she asked when they were finally in a corner. His palm was so sweaty against hers.
“No… I’m all right. Well, no, actually, I’m not. I need to say something.” He sucked in a deep breath as he cradled her face, his jaw pulsing quickly. “What if…what if I wanted to be your escape? We’re both starting fresh in a way, right? What if we did it to
gether…right now?”
In an instant, her heartbeats were fierce and loud enough to drown out the music, and her stomach bottomed out. “What?” she said as a delay tactic until she could figure out what she needed to say.
Matt drew his face close to hers until their noses were nearly touching, and his hands were so hot on her skin. “Could you ever not love him?”
Erica lowered her stare as she let out a series of deep breaths. Yes, it had been tempting to move beyond simply fantasizing about going that route, and as much as she found solace in relating to each other’s traumas, she just couldn’t imagine not being in love with Bryson.
For the rest of her life.
Any guy would always deserve more than she could offer. “No. It’s an impossibility.”
Matt’s eyes searched hers, his brow creasing on his exhale. “I guess I just needed to know that for sure.” As soon as his arms folded around her, Matt gurgled a choking sound and took a forceful flight backward.
“Back the fuck off, dude.” Abel shoved the startled Matt hard, and he tumbled into two kissing nightclub patrons. The commotion drew the attention of the people standing nearby. Goddammit. “I really don’t like fucking repeat myself.”
Matt was red in the face, fuming as he tried to catch his breath and get his bearings on the situation. But with his body far less rigid than Abel’s, she knew he was still seeking a nonviolent way out of the confrontation. “Look, I wasn’t—”
“Yeah, you were, dude, so just walk away. Get the fuck out of here.” Abel’s stare was boring into him, and his fists were balled at his sides. He was the agitated bull spotting the wave of the matador’s red cape. But suddenly Matt didn’t seem to be backing down to Abel’s belligerence. Erica had only observed Abel in a few fights over the years she had known him—a scrape here and there with some newbie surfers, when they would break with tradition and cut the line of the more experienced ones waiting for a wave—but the kid knew how to be brutal when he needed to be. She reflected on the one serious physical fight she’d seen him and Wes get into years ago, and he had showed no mercy to his brother. She didn’t want Matt to end up the bloodied result of Abel’s other talent.
“Abel, stop it! Don’t hit him,” she said with clenched teeth when she reached his side. “And do not ruin this night for Fading Fast…or me.” Abel wasn’t the world’s most famous surfer, but he wasn’t just a regular guy, either. His involvement in a fight could still get some press and overshadow the event. And the truth was people just liked filming altercations because they could. “You promised.” He hadn’t…but maybe guilt would work, anyway…and if not, then a mix of an insult and guilt. “You’re being an asshole.”
His stance relaxed and he looked over at her with anger still sparking in his eyes. She shook her head in disbelief and disgust, and moved to where Matt was standing, but he fled from her so quickly, she opted not to chase him. It made her even more upset at Abel, but when she turned back to him most of her anger evaporated. His expression was marked with regret and confusion. His shoulders drooped, and his expression crumbled further when she took his hand as preemptive acceptance to the apology she knew was coming.
“Don’t be mad at me, E. It’s just that…you’re Bryson’s girl, and I just need some good to come out of all of this, you know?” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
The road to hell was paved with Abel Elliott’s good intentions.
He was hanging on to a lot of guilt surrounding her, inside that tough exterior, and he still needed to deal with it or figured out how to put it aside. Much like the situation with Kai, she didn’t know how to get it through to him that she didn’t blame him for anything, and it was incredibly frustrating. “E… can you talk to me?”
“Just… just give me a minute,” she demanded. He yelled out an apology as she sauntered off toward the hallway where the bathrooms were. At least her clients were still rocking the crowd. All in all, the night had been all right, her personal life aside. Her heart leaped when her cell buzzed from inside her wristlet wallet, and she hurriedly pulled it out, hoping for good news. She would have taken the kind words of a fake Nigerian prince asking for money in an email right now. With her eyes glued to the screen, she stepped directly into the path of another person in the small corridor just past the restrooms. It was a hard male body, and it threw her back, and sent her cell crashing to the ground.
“Oh, man, let me get that for you,” he offered.
Erica’s eyes widened, a prickly chill unfolding down her spine before exploding all over her body as he bent to pick it up. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She had run headfirst, straight into Jeremy Bunyan.
Fighter – Chapter 8
She hoped she wouldn’t forever think of the moon when she saw Jeremy, but she had stared at that beautiful silver circle hugged by a perpetual stretch of darkness, and wondered how something that stunning could exist over such an ugly world, that night in Thailand when his hands were crushing her chest and shoving her deeper into the sand.
“Erica…”
Her pulse rate shifted immediately and her skin got hot. “Don’t say my name. Don’t touch my phone,” she commanded, but he was clutching it and aiming it at her. She stepped back from him and clenched her jaw, studying the person she had once considered a friend. Now the buzz cut blond, muscular, tall guy in front of her was just a monster.
Fury, intensely burning until her blood felt like lighter fluid, made her smack her phone out of his hand, and she didn’t look when it landed even harder this time. He seemed to have a really hard time understanding when someone didn’t want him to do something. “Don’t fucking pick it up again.” A voice inside her was saying to just walk away, but after confronting him at Wintervention, her need to stand up to him again was compulsive.
“Okay…” Jeremy said in a flustered tone, but deeper aggravation settled in his irises. “Cool show tonight. I’m glad I was able to get tickets.” God, he was a master at deception. She’d been both disgusted and amused by that publicity stunt of a relationship with Rayna Rodriguez that had “ended” a few months ago. The irony of it all was that while she had rarely seen him do anything that ever raised concern about her safety around him, she’d seen him work hard on his image to control what messages the media picked up about him, especially after his rehab stint. It had seemed normal at the time because any level of fame could mean losing who you really were, but in hindsight, Jeremy had needed the veneer to shield what was really lurking below the surface. And while she was apprehensive about being around him, even in a nightclub full of people, there was no actual terror. He wouldn’t get that again.
“Don’t talk to me. We aren’t friends.” She wondered if this was what Adam had been trying to tell her earlier, that one of the Bunyan brothers was there. Erica gestured at the hallway, hinting that he should just keep walking. “I told you already: stay away from me. The fuck away.”
Jeremy gave her an eye roll and coupled it with a sigh. “This is getting old with you and your friends. You’re still caught up on that night—”
“Oh, so you’re admitting what you did?”
“Yeah, I guess I’m willing to come clean about what you apparently were too drunk to remember. Look, the truth is, we both had a little too much to drink that night. We got carried away. Now you regret it, so you’re making a big deal about it. We don’t have to be friends, but you should just let it go. It’s done. It’s been over a year.”
“I wasn’t drunk. You drugged me!” Her irritation was morphing into rage, and she fantasized for a moment about punching him. “Is that the story you’re selling with the help of your P.I. …instead of the one where you’re rapist?”
His shoulders jerked slightly in response to the word, but his ability to keep calm was uncanny. “Keep your voice down. That’s an unsubstantiated allegation.”
“Hanging out with lawyers, too?”
“You’re just not remembering the night cor
rectly, E. I don’t need a lawyer or P.I. to tell me that.”
Was he just saying that? Was this just a really crafty bluff? Or did he really not know about the private investigator? Could Chase have initiated this alone? He had showed up at one of Kai’s tour dates in New York to defend his brother, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. And Jeremy also seemed too casual right now to know about the witness coming forward. Or did he know and not care because he really thought he was just that infallible? “Screw you. Don’t call me E, and you’d be surprised what I remember. I know I tore your earring out. It nearly cut through the lobe.”
“Nope. That’s not how I got that injury, Erica,” he said adamantly, barely blinking. “You’re mistaken.”
“And you’re disgusting. You’re so much of a coward, it’s just me and you, and you can’t even admit the truth to me. Is it because you know I’m not going to cower or run again? That’s what you want, right? For me to be scared every time I see you? For a look and a smile in my direction to mess with me? So you can feel better about yourself? Well, it won’t.” He wanted to have her forever stuck as that girl on the beach whenever they were face to face, and she wouldn’t be. “Now get out of my way.”
Annoyance made the whites of his eyes stretch and the pitch of voice lower, but he was still unnervingly calm. “You know what? At the end of the day, it's your word against mine. Go up against me. You’d be stupid to, though. See how long until your name and everything about you mysteriously hits social media, which these days might be better than a newspaper. Who’s going to protect your identity there? And let’s see…alcoholic mom. No dad. Gold digging sister. Pretty sure someone could make the same argument with Bryson and you. Ambiguous relationship with singer from equally shitty home.