“How much does she want?” I asked.
“She’s asking for $100,000. Seriously! She also said if I don’t respond by the end of the week, she’s doubling that.”
Shit…this Becca bitch was a real piece of work. There was no way she was getting a hundred grand from my family, let alone twice that.
“Okay. Have you spoken to Robin?”
“No, not yet. I didn’t even realize she was still talking to Becca,” she replied, casting another sad look at her feet. “I kinda thought Robin was on my side after the whole break-up thing, seeing as Becca was the one who did a shitty thing by sleeping with my boyfriend. I guess I was wrong, though. They must still be friends.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth for a second before continuing. “Oh god….Robin knows about you and me. What if she told Becca about that too?”
“First things first. Let’s go and confront Robin so we can find out what Becca actually knows before we freak out too much.”
I watched her nod at my suggestion, a small weight lifting off her shoulders. It had obviously been killing her going through this by herself, and once again, guilt streaked through my veins.
Whoever this crazy Becca chick was, she was going down. She had no idea who she was messing with. I was going to try my best not to involve my father when I fixed this problem for Sasha, because I didn’t want to have to deal with all of the bullshit that came along with that, but if it came down to it and I had no other choice, I would involve him. He would never pay off some young tramp who was trying her luck with us like this, but he would make sure she never tried it again.
Ever.
“Okay, let’s get dressed. Call Robin and tell her we’re coming over to see her, and we’ll go from there,” I said.
Sasha nodded again and headed upstairs, and I followed her.
I quickly dressed before racing back outside, grabbing my car keys along the way. Sasha wasn’t far behind me, and it was clear from her mismatched clothes that she was too distracted to care about her appearance. She still looked amazing, though. I could ask her to wear an old hessian sack and she’d probably still look better than the average actress or model in designer gear.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah. I told Robin we’re coming over. She was a bit confused as to why you’re coming with me, but I couldn’t really explain it over the phone.”
“True. She’ll just have to wait.”
We headed off, and we drove in silence for the first five minutes.
“Logan…” Sasha began to say something before trailing off, and I turned to look at her for a second.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry about what I wrote about your Dad.”
“I know. I totally overreacted, so I’m sorry too. I was being a fucking asshole. I’m just so used to people trying to screw with my Dad and his reputation. Case in point—this crap with Becca.”
“I totally get it. I shouldn’t have written the paper on him. I just thought he’d make a cool subject for a case study on successful people, and it never occurred to me how it might affect his reputation if someone other than my professor got their hands on my paper and misinterpreted it. The sociopath angle wasn’t actually about him—it was about this other case study we read about in class, where some researchers found that successful people are likely to have similar traits to sociopaths. I was just tying that in and exploring how much that research fits in your Dad’s case, and when it comes to him, it doesn’t fit at all. He doesn’t have any of the same traits as a sociopath.”
“Well, I still overreacted. I mean, what are the odds that someone aside from your professor would see your paper anyway?”
“I know…but still, it was a pretty dumb idea to write it about a brand new family member, so I’ve changed my paper. I’m writing it about someone else now, and it’s going well.”
“Cool. Glad to hear it. Again, I’m sorry for the massive overreaction. I’m an idiot.”
I braked at a stop sign a second later, and while I waited for the other cars to pass, I slid my hand onto Sasha’s left thigh and squeezed. She responded by putting her hand on top of mine and smiling at me, and I grinned back at her.
It didn’t matter if we argued sometimes, and it didn’t matter what kind of ridiculous misunderstandings we had. We’d still always sort things out in the end, and that was normal—all couples fought occasionally. It meant we were just a regular old couple like everyone else, and you know what? It felt amazing. We weren’t perfect, but we were together, and we were us.
We drove the rest of the way to Robin’s house in silence, content with just being next to each other.
“It’s here,” Sasha said, gesturing to a small red brick house on our right.
“Okay. Let’s find out what the fuck is going on,” I said, pulling up in the driveway.
Robin must have already seen us pull in, because she opened the door before we even knocked. “Hey. You sounded freaked out on the phone. Is everything okay?” she asked, a worried expression on her face.
Sasha shook her head. “Not really.”
I didn’t say anything, because I wasn’t sure about this Robin chick. For all I knew, she was in on Becca’s whole scheme. Why else would she still be talking to her and telling her stuff after what she’d done to Sasha?
We wandered through the hallway and into the kitchen before sitting down at the dining table. “What’s going on?” Robin asked, obviously not the sort of person to make small talk.
“It’s Becca. I know you’ve been talking to her about me. What I didn’t know was that you’re still friends with her.”
As soon as those words left Sasha’s mouth, Robin went pale. “What? What do you mean? I’m not friends with her at all. She’s a bitchy coke-whore, and after what she did with Travis, do you really think I’d be her friend ever again?”
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes at what appeared to be a blatant lie, and I filled her in on everything that had happened with the text messages from Becca. Robin’s face turned even paler as I spoke, and she twisted her hands in her lap, her eyes wide.
“Oh, shit. I know what you’re talking about now. I know this looks really bad for me, but I’m not friends with her anymore, I swear. I bumped into her the other day, and she was asking about you, Sasha. I didn’t want to talk to her, but she kinda cornered me. She was acting all sweet and concerned, asking how hurt you were by the break-up with Travis. I couldn’t stand seeing her pretend to worry about you when I knew full well that she doesn’t give two shits about anyone except herself, so I told her you were totally fine. I just wanted her to see that you didn’t care, and that you’d moved on with your life. So I told her a bit about your Mom getting married to this great new guy, and how you had this awesome new mansion for a house, and how you were so happy.”
She seemed so genuine that I actually believed her. She hadn’t been going behind Sasha’s back; she’d just been trying to defend Sasha instead.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” she continued.
“No it isn’t,” Sasha said with a sigh. “You aren’t in the naked pictures, I am. You didn’t date that asshole Travis, I did. You just got sucked into one of Becca’s manipulative games. I’ve been there—I know what a clever bitch she can be. I’m sorry I accused you of anything.”
“No, I get it. I deserve it. I won’t ever talk to her again, I promise. Not even to tell her to fuck off,” Robin replied.
“What we need to do now,” I said, quickly ending the blame-fest that was getting us nowhere. “Is decide what we’re going to do next.”
They both nodded, enthusiastic about this point. “Getting my Dad involved with this is a last resort measure. There’s gotta be something we can do to stop her on our own,” I added.
Robin arched an eyebrow. “Okay. So what the hell are we going to do?”
Good fucking question…
Chapter 15
Sasha
The dri
ve home from Robin’s was filled with a weird, intense silence between Logan and me. Neither of us spoke, not even about the plan we’d spent the last couple of hours concocting. We just sat there, silently staring at the road as we mulled the plan over in our heads—at least that’s what I assumed he was thinking about.
As we pulled up outside our house, we saw that none of the lights were on, meaning that we were going to be alone once more. Martha had gone home for the day already, and our parents must have been out at some function. They’d probably told us about it, but with everything that had been happening, I couldn’t remember.
I smiled up at Logan as we headed inside. I knew exactly how lucky I was to have him on my side again. He’d been rightfully mad at me over the psychology paper thing, but that was all sorted out now, and he was doing everything he could to help me out with the Becca situation, which made my blood run cold every time I thought about it.
He walked over to the fridge to grab us some Cokes, and I watched him as he poured the soda into tall glasses.
“Logan,” I said hesitantly. “I’m sorry to bring this up after we already resolved it, but I’m trying to work on my communication skills, so I just wanted to say thanks again for being so understanding about everything. I really don’t know what I’d do without you right now, so I’m glad you’re with me, and I’m also glad we’ve cleared the air.”
“It’s cool.” He took a sip of his soda before continuing. “You know, in the name of clearing the air and communicating, there’s something else I should apologize for other than yesterday’s overreaction. I haven’t always been nice about your Mom, and I’m sorry about that. It’s obvious that she really does love my father, so I’m sorry if I’ve ever implied otherwise. I know we had an argument about that a while ago, and it sounded like I was calling her a gold-digger. I honestly didn’t mean that,” he said.
“I know. And to be fair, she has been acting kinda weirdly lately, trying so hard to fit in.”
He let out a deep sigh and looked down at his shoes. “Yeah. I’m just a bit guarded about letting people into this family because of who my Dad is. I guess you kinda figured that out already.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, moving closer to him and gently rubbing his back. I could only imagine what it had been like for him his whole life, seeing people hounding his father and befriending him just to get things out of him. It had to make it incredibly difficult for him to trust anyone, so I understood perfectly now.
“It’s not even just that,” he said, running a hand through his hair. His eyes were still trained on the floor. “There’s some other stuff that I haven’t told you, but I want to.”
It meant the world to me that he was willing to open up so much, but I didn’t want to make him feel as if I were forcing him to reveal things to me that he wasn’t comfortable sharing just yet.
“Logan, you don’t have to—”
He cut me off. “No, I really want to tell you. Come sit in the lounge room. I’ll tell you there.”
I walked behind him, noticing how dejected and resigned his body language had become. Gone was the arrogant know-it-all that used to drive me so crazy, and in its place was a man who needed some support and kindness.
I decided to make it my mission to make him feel better about himself tonight. He was going out of his way to help me with the Becca situation, so the least I could do was try to put a smile on his face. He slumped onto the sofa with his head in his hands, and I chose to perch on the edge of the sofa.
He finally spoke without even looking up. ““It’s about my Mom. She died when I was young. I don’t know how much you know about that.”
“I don’t know much at all,” I said.
“Well, it was all my fault, and that’s why my Dad treats me the way he does. You’ve seen how he barely acknowledges me half the time. I think he hates me.”
He finally met my eyes to gauge my reaction, and I wanted to flinch, but I kept my expression poker straight. It was as if he was challenging me to defy him, so he could argue that I didn’t know anything about it—which, to be fair, I didn’t. I didn’t know anything for sure, so I couldn’t say a single damn word.
He took a deep breath and continued.
“When I was a little kid, around six years old, I was obsessed with fire, and I was always sneakily playing with matches and candles. Mom would catch me with the matches and tell me to stop because it was dangerous, but I just thought it was fun. I was really young, so it didn’t occur to me how bad it could be, no matter how many times she told me to stop. I was a real little shit as a kid, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
He looked as if he was on the verge of tears, but he kept his composure.
“I wish I’d listened, but I didn’t. However much she tried to hide them from me, I always found them in the upper cupboards or wherever else she and the housekeeper hid them. It was like a little game in my mind, one that I always wanted to win.”
I watched his fists ball up over and over again, as if he was somehow physically hurting himself with his words.
“Then one day I burned the fucking house down. I killed her.”
I gasped. I didn’t mean to; I wanted to be totally cool and calm throughout the whole story in order to keep him from getting more upset, but it burst out of me before I could stop it. I clapped my hand to my mouth, wishing I could force it back in, but it was too late.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“It didn’t happen right away,” he said, as if I hadn’t even spoken. “She didn’t die in the house, and she wasn’t burned, if that’s what you’re wondering. But when the fire started, she stayed in there for too long, trying to make sure everyone got out—me, Dad, the live-in housekeeper we had at the time, and our pets. She put my safety before her own, even though it was my fault. She ended up suffering from pretty severe smoke inhalation, and then she finally passed away in hospital a few days later. It was my fault. All my fault. You know, I can barely even look at a fucking candle these days, let alone any other kind of fire. Scares the shit out of me after what happened, as much of a pussy as that makes me sound like.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, just absorbing the enormity of his story. It was all starting to make a strange sort of sense to me—he was the way he was because of this crushing guilt weighing down on him, and he’d been carrying it around with him for almost his entire life.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” he said. “I can’t really remember much about her now. Her face is all blurry in my mind, and I can’t remember her voice or her laugh. I can’t even remember going to her funeral.”
“You were so young.”
“And Dad is no help. He’s hidden everything away from me—photographs, her old stuff…all of it. It’s like she never existed, and he blames me almost as much as I do. I spoke to him about it once, and he said it wasn’t my fault, and that the fire was actually caused by faulty wiring, but he couldn’t even look at me as he said it. He knows it was my fault as well as I do.”
“I don’t think that’s what he really—”
Again, Logan wasn’t letting me get a word in edgeways. “Of course he does! Like I said, he can’t even look at me. And why would he? I practically killed his wife.”
This sent me into a subdued silence. No wonder he hadn’t wanted me and my Mom around at first. It didn’t really have anything to do with money. He just didn’t want his father to get hurt all over again.
My mission to make Logan feel better sank like a lead balloon as I considered his story. How the hell could I help him overcome something like this? It was years and years of bad feelings and emotions that had built up over time, and there was no way I could I could even begin to undo that in one night.
I stood up and moved closer to him to hug him. He resisted at first, but soon he sank his body into mine, allowing me to hold him. He was crying. We both knew it, but neither of us acknowledged it. We just sat there as he shook against me.
After about ten m
inutes, he straightened himself out, pulling back from me whilst coughing awkwardly. I knew this moment could go either way. It could either make us feel uncomfortable around each other for a while, or it could bring us closer together.
I decided to make it the latter.
I didn’t let him move too far away from me before I leaned forward and kissed him. At first, he seemed surprised by my reaction. I guess it was a little out of the ordinary considering what we’d just been discussing, but I wanted him to see that I wasn’t going to treat him any differently now that I knew his story. I wanted him to see that he hadn’t been emasculated by opening up and showing his grief. Everyone needed to let their emotions out sometimes; even the most manly of men.
There were probably a million and one things I should have said to him after his confession, but I was sure that he’d heard it all before, and that none of it had ever made him feel one iota better. So instead, I just continued to kiss him.
There was nothing else I could do right now, and there was nothing else I wanted to do.
Logan was it for me.
Chapter 16
Logan
“Are you sure about this?” Sasha asked Robin and me for about the hundredth time.
She was panicking about what was going to happen with Becca tonight, and I wished she’d realize that it was all going to be fine—at least it would be if I had anything to do with it. I hated seeing her upset. It had been bad enough seeing her reaction when I told her what had happened to my mother. When I told her the story, I’d practically been able to see her heart breaking for me, and I hated that I was the reason she was upset. She’d been there to support me, though, and that was all I could ever ask for. She hadn’t judged me one bit; all she’d done was hold me and let me get it all out of my system.
I’d never told anyone else that story about my mother, and I probably never would. I had Sasha, and she was the only confidante I needed.
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