by HELEN HARDT
Gorgeous on you! #orderingnow
Love the color!
You look so happy!
Totally getting this for my wife.
More and more of the same. Emojis, too.
Until—
@realaddisonames #fuckyou
Chapter Forty-Eight
Delete.
Easy enough.
Until—
@realaddisonames #youllneverbeme
I’m tempted to leave that one and let my followers see who Addison truly is, but I delete it as well.
I wait for her next move.
Nothing. At least for now. If it continues, I’ll simply block her, though I hope it doesn’t come to that. She said herself that I’m the competition now, and it’s always a good idea to keep an eye on the competition.
Then a comment that takes my breath away.
@bradenblackinc You’re gorgeous. See you tonight.
My face splits into a wide grin. We didn’t make any plans for tonight, so I assume he’ll call me with the details. I continue reading comments as quickly as they appear while I finish my latte. I’m so into the comments that I jerk when my phone dings with a text. It’s from Eugenie.
Perfect! Love the post. I want to see another tomorrow and the last one over the weekend.
I text her back.
So glad it works for you. Will do.
My next post is formal.
Hmm. Would Eugenie be willing to wait until the weekend when I’m at the opera gala with Braden?
I hastily text her back, and she agrees.
Good.
I have the perfect idea in mind for dramatic as well. I’ll pose by Braden’s window looking out over the moonlit harbor. That means I’ll need to be at his place over the weekend. Since we’re going to the gala, we’ll most likely end the evening at his place. No problem.
I check my watch. Maybe Tessa can meet for a drink and I can tell her all my news. Hmm, still about an hour before she gets off work. I know the perfect way to kill some time. I fire up the laptop and do some searches.
“Addison Ames” “Braden Black”
Lots of hits, but all recent and all articles where they’re both mentioned but not together. I skim through several, but I’m looking for what happened eleven years ago.
I add the year to the search.
Nothing. Nothing about the two of them together in that time frame.
What went on that summer?
I fear I may never know.
I check my watch again. Tessa’s just getting off work, so I call her.
“Hey, Skye.”
“Hey, yourself. You busy? Want to go for a drink?”
“Actually, you won’t believe this.”
“What?”
“I’ve already got plans for a drink. With Betsy. Believe it or not, she called me. You’re welcome to join us.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She’s a friend of Addie’s, and Addie and I sort of…well…let’s just say I’m no longer working for her.”
“What happened? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s a long story. Maybe I will join you. Addie can’t possibly have blackballed me all over town yet.” I quickly give Tessa the scoop.
“Seriously? She’s leaving nasty comments on your posts? She’s so immature.”
“True story,” I say. “Where are you meeting Betsy?”
“Esteban’s for happy hour. Please come.”
“I think I will. I’ll see you there.”
…
“Four grande margaritas and two Wild Turkeys.” The server sets down our drinks—two each, as it’s happy hour. “And chips and guacamole.”
So far I’ve learned that Betsy isn’t as fond of Addie as she first let on to Tessa. I wait patiently. The two margaritas should get her talking. I sip my first Wild Turkey slowly. Tessa and Betsy trade dog stories. I have to hand it to Tessa. She can lie about a fake dog as well as anyone.
Tessa and Betsy are both on their second margarita before I’m even halfway through my first drink. Not surprising. I listen with one ear, eating a few chips now and then.
Until—
“Skye!” Betsy shrieks.
I suppress a jerk and widen my eyes. “Yeah?”
“Seriously? You’re dating Braden Black?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Wow. Addie didn’t warn you?”
“Oh, she did, but she wouldn’t go into any detail, so why should I listen to her?”
Betsy’s cheeks turn pink. “I shouldn’t talk about it.”
“Okay,” I say. “We don’t have to talk about Addie or Braden at all.”
Betsy smiles timidly and finishes her second margarita. “It was all so long ago. And look at what they’ve both accomplished since then.”
“Yes, they’re both huge successes,” Tessa says. “Which means whatever happened had no effect on them whatsoever.”
“Of course it didn’t,” Betsy says. “No one knows, and no one can ever find out.”
“Really?” Tessa lifts her eyebrows. “How is that?”
Betsy gestures to the server. “Another, please. You guys want another?”
I’m still only halfway through my first, so I shake my head.
“Sure,” Tessa says, filling a plate with chips.
“Excuse me.” Betsy rises. “Little girls’ room.”
Once she’s gone, I grab Tessa’s arm. “I need to get out of here.”
“No, trust me. It’s better that you’re here. Your presence appeals to her conscience. If there’s really a danger to you, she won’t be able to keep it to herself.”
“Braden isn’t dangerous.”
“I don’t think he is, either, but Addison does, and Betsy knows why. She and Addie aren’t exactly friends.”
“I gathered that from what she was saying when I arrived. Why does Addie do her posts for free, then? That’s not like Addie at all.”
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure we can find out tonight if we play our cards right.”
Five minutes pass.
Then ten.
Twenty.
I sigh. “Either she’s got some chronic diarrhea or she ditched us.”
“Shit. You think?” Tessa asks.
“One way to find out.” I rise and head to the bathroom.
Only one stall is occupied. Oh well. I can’t fault Betsy. She’s known Addie forever and probably changed her mind about talking.
I don’t have to use the toilet, so I quickly check myself in the mirror and turn to leave—
When I hear a sniffle coming from the occupied stall.
I look at the feet. Black army boots. I didn’t check out Betsy’s shoes, but I’m betting the boots go with whatever boho-chic outfit she’s wearing. It’s a brown and green flowing number.
“Betsy?” I say.
Another sniffle.
“Are you okay?”
The door to the stall opens and Betsy walks out, her face tear-stained and her eyes red.
“Oh my God. What happened?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you, Skye. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
I touch her shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
“But I want to. I really want to. You deserve to know. But I made a promise a long time ago. A promise I regret now. Addie’s not who you think she is.”
I think she’s a self-absorbed heiress, but Betsy may not know that. “I thought you two were friends.”
“We are. Or were. Or…I don’t know what the heck we are, to be honest.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure Addie’s posts help your shop.”
“They do, but she doesn’t do it for me.”
I
lift my eyebrows. “Oh?”
“I mean, she does, but not because we’re old friends. She does it to…” She sighs. “She does it to keep me quiet, Skye.”
“Quiet about what?”
“About that summer. I told Tessa she could tell you.”
“She may have mentioned something.”
Betsy spews out the story I already heard from Tessa about the illicit party at the Ames house, Braden’s attendance, and Addie’s obsession with losing her virginity to him.
“Wow,” I say.
“I know.”
“But Braden isn’t the problem,” I say. “Seems like Addie’s the one who pursued him. So why does she say he’s bad news?”
“There’s a lot more to the story,” Betsy says.
“Was it ever in the news?” I ask. “Because I can’t find anything about the two of them that year.”
“No, nothing was in the news.”
“Then what happened?”
Betsy blows her nose into a paper towel. “I’m so sorry. I’ve said all I can.” She runs out.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Now what?
Before I leave the restroom, my phone dings with a text from Braden.
Braden: Where are you?
Me: Esteban’s. Having a drink with Tessa.
Braden: I’m at your place. Why aren’t you here?
Right. His comment on the post said See you tonight. Still, we didn’t make official plans.
So I reply.
Me: Because I’m at Esteban’s having a drink with Tessa.
My heart gallops as the dots jump while he writes. Then—
Braden: Be there in fifteen.
I smile for a few seconds, but then I scramble out of the restroom. If Braden shows up, Betsy will have a meltdown. I return to the table. Tessa is sitting alone.
“Where’s Betsy?”
“Gone. She came back and looked awful, threw some bills down, mumbled a quick apology, and then ran out. What the heck happened in the bathroom?”
I give Tessa the lowdown. “To make matters more complicated, Braden is on his way here.”
“What for?”
“Apparently he wants to see me tonight.”
“I can make myself scarce. I didn’t need this fourth margarita anyway. Good thing I took the T to work today.”
“You can stay.”
“That’s okay.” She stands. “Call me tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
She walks away but then turns and looks back. “By the way, I saw your post. It’s gorgeous!”
I warm. “Thanks. I think.”
“You can do this, Skye. I believe in you.” She winks and leaves the restaurant.
I look over the bill and count up the money Betsy and Tessa both left. I pull out my wallet, and—
“I’ve got it.” Braden sits down and takes the check from me.
“You don’t have to. They left money.”
“I saw Tessa on the way out,” he says. “I told her you’d be returning her money.”
“What about Betsy’s money?”
“Who’s Betsy?”
“Betsy… Huh. I don’t know her last name. Anyway, she owns the Bark Boutique where I got Sasha’s gift basket.”
“You can return her money, too.”
“That’s generous of you, but you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to, Skye. I want to. This is pennies to me.”
I smile. “Okay, then. I’ll let you, because I’m now officially unemployed.”
He shakes his head. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I don’t know. I still have no idea what went on between you and Addison.”
He throws a credit card on top of the bill. “Nice try. Still not going there.”
The server arrives and grabs the bill and credit card. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Black?”
“Yes, a Wild Turkey, one ice cube, and a menu please. Ms. Manning and I will be dining.”
“You want to eat here?” I ask, flabbergasted.
“Why not?”
“It’s not exactly fine dining.”
“So? You seem to forget I come from South Boston. I grew up on beans and stew.”
“Boston baked beans?” I can’t help asking.
“One and the same.”
“No chains like this when I was growing up, but we had some great little mom-and-pop restaurants in the nearby small towns. Not fine dining, but delicious food where everyone knew everyone else. We had this amazing Mexican restaurant run by a couple who’d emigrated twenty years previously. The best Mexican food ever. The stuff here can’t compare.”
“Esteban’s is yuppy Mexican food,” he says. “But it’s still decent.”
“True.”
The server returns with the menus. I glance over mine.
“Eat hearty, Skye,” he says. “You’re going to burn a lot of calories tonight.”
…
As soon as we enter Braden’s penthouse, he attacks me next to the elevator, kissing me hard and deep. I respond immediately, my whole body quaking in anticipation of what’s to come.
Then his phone buzzes, and he breaks the kiss.
“Ignore it,” I whisper.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m expecting an important call.”
“At nine thirty?”
He doesn’t answer, just pulls his phone out. “Black,” he says, walking toward the living room.
I straighten my clothes and follow him, but a few seconds later he walks away and into his office, closing the door.
None of my business. I get it.
I head to the kitchen for a glass of water. I down it quickly. Two Wild Turkeys and Braden’s kiss have me dangerously dehydrated.
About fifteen minutes later, Braden returns. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I have to fly back to New York.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah. I shouldn’t have left early. My bad.”
He left early because of me. Am I supposed to feel bad about that? Because I don’t. Not in the least. I say simply, “Oh.”
He stalks toward me. “I seem to make questionable decisions because of you, Skye.”
I say nothing. Just shiver from his nearness.
“I want you to think about something while I’m gone.”
I shiver. “What?”
He pushes something into my hands. It’s a silver chain with some odd-looking baubles at each end. “About wearing this to the gala on Saturday.”
I wrap it around my neck and secure it like a lariat necklace. “All right. It will go nicely with the black dress.”
Braden laughs.
A serious uproarious laugh.
I smile because I love seeing him laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s not a necklace.”
My cheeks warm. I remove it from my neck and hold it out to him. “What is it, then?”
“Those things on each end are nipple clamps, Skye.”
My nipples tighten and my areolas shrink around them in response to his words. My jaw drops as I examine the baubles on each end. They resemble tiny clothespins with a screw-on device reminiscent of some of my mother’s old clip-on earrings.
“I control how tight the clamp is,” he says. “And when I give the chain between them a good yank… Well, you can imagine.”
I hand the chain back to him and clear my throat. “I’ll…think about it.”
His gaze darkens. “Think about it a lot, Skye.”
I nod, trying not to tremble.
“I’m sorry about tonight. Christopher will drive you home.”
“When will you be back?”
“Saturday afternoon, as originally planned. I’ll pick you up at your place for the g
ala at six p.m. sharp. I’ll bring the chain and put it on for you.”
I’m hotter than ever now, and he’s leaving.
Maybe tonight I’ll try masturbation again.
I nod. “Braden?”
“Yes?”
“I… I’ll miss you.”
He smiles. “I’ll miss you, too, Skye. More than you know.”
Chapter Fifty
I allow myself some indulgence the next morning. I sleep in a little. No job to go to, so why not? I fire up the laptop and check my Venmo account. Sure enough, Susanne Cosmetics has sent me five thousand dollars, half of the contract amount.
At least I’ll be able to pay my bills for the month or two—after I put a third of it away for taxes. Being self-employed comes with its own issues.
I don’t normally exercise during the week, but I have time, so I head to the yoga studio and pick up a morning class. After a quick trip for groceries, I return home at one p.m., fix myself a sandwich, and sit down at the computer.
First, I check my phone. Did I inadvertently silence the ringer?
No, it’s on. No calls.
No one else asking for me to do a post.
Okay. No reason to panic. I’ve got another five thousand dollars coming after Saturday.
Time to check my post.
I delete a few comments that are borderline negative and respond to quite a few. No more comments from Addie. She probably figured I’d block her, and if I did, she’d no longer be able to keep tabs on me.
Of course she could always open up a dummy Instagram account.
So could I, if I ended up having to block her.
Perhaps she is truly taking the high road. For now at least. Probably not, but a girl can hope.
I play around on Instagram for a little while until my phone dings with a notification. Hmm. Apparently I have a direct message. No one has ever messaged me on Instagram before.
I click.
The message is from Tammy Monroe. Never heard of her.
Greetings, Skye! I see you’re a new influencer, and I love your name. I’m the marketing director for New England Adventures, and we’d like to contract you for an Instagram campaign. We’ll call it Skye Takes to the Sky. You would take a ride in one of our hot-air balloons and post over the beauty of our New England countryside. Please contact me if you’re interested.
A post from a hot-air balloon? Definitely intriguing, except for the fact that it scares me to death. I quickly call Tessa at work.