The Start of Us: Book 1 in the No Regrets series
Page 16
“What’s going on with you, darling? I feel as if I haven’t seen you in ages. Do you have a date tonight?” She can’t mask the hope in her voice. She’s dying for me to say yes. Dying for me to share every detail. It’s been so long since she heard anything. So long since I shared. There’s a part of her that’s probably wasting away from the lack of her brand of oxygen. “Maybe someone new? Someone you haven’t told me about yet?”
She might as well be saying, Just a quick hit, Harley. That’s all I need.
Maybe we are all addicts. I consider making up a name to make her happy. Creating a fake boyfriend, a fake date, a fable she’d lap right up and love. I could spin thousands upon thousands of tales, I could make up fantastical stories of boys and men, and she’d love them. But I don’t.
Maybe this is progress. Maybe I will tell Joanne I had a little victory.
“No. Not tonight.”
“Anyway,” she continues, like my run-in with her lover is no big deal, because it isn’t to her. “I know we were going to chat this afternoon about summer plans, and I want to. But I need to reschedule. I had to rush back to the office. I landed a tip on a new story, and it’s terrible. A terrible blackmail story,” she says, and I nod. Blackmail is a shitty, shitty thing. “But I have another piece I’m snooping around on too, and I was hoping you could do me just a small favor. You know that lawyer I work with from time to time on stories? I need him to take a look at a document I received from a congressman’s intern. It’s on the thumb drive in my laptop on the dining room table. Can you grab it and drop it by his office? For obvious reasons, I won’t email it to him. It needs to be hand delivered so there’s no digital trace, and I’ve already called and let him know to expect you. He’s only a few blocks from the house.”
“You have a lot of sources, Mom. Who do you mean?” I ask, because I’ve helped my mom on stories before. Ran errands here and there. Dropped off documents. Ferried information.
“The one who looks like Vince Vaughn.”
I grin, a wicked, thrilling surge inside me at the description my mother gives. Little does she know what she’s asking me to do—that she’s giving me the sign I need to go to him again.
The choice.
The pull.
I feel it all now.
I feel it in my fingertips. I feel it deep in my heart.
Everything is clear. It’s fate.
Cam made me an offer, after all.
“It would be my absolute pleasure,” I say in my best happy daughter voice. If she’s going to be all delighted over me seeing her boyfriend’s dick, then I can act happy about seeing my ex-pimp.
Because it’s not an act. I am happy I get to see Cam.
Cam doesn’t lie to me. Cam doesn’t hide things from me. Cam isn’t hot or cold, turning me on or off, telling me secrets then backpedaling. Besides, whatever sweet nothings, sweet somethings, sweet everythings that came out of Trey’s mouth last night were all lies. Probably lies to get me undressed.
There is no such thing as real love. There is only agenda. There are only expectations. And if you can remove the sticky mess of feelings from the equation, you’re better off.
Cam is a one-track man, and he brings me out of the mess of my life.
34
Cam
I hang up the phone, pleased.
So damn pleased.
Because there is good news, and there is great news.
Great news is worth waiting for.
I’m a patient man.
I’ve waited for this day.
And I’ve prepped for it.
With options. So many options. Because that’s what you do when you play the game.
I rise from my leather chair, head to the window, and stare down at the city at my feet. Watching all the people so many stories below. Hustling and bustling. Coming and going. Hunting. Searching. They’re all looking for the angles, hoping for a winning hand.
But New York is my card table. And I love nothing more than being the dealer. House usually wins.
Today, the house is definitely going to win big.
I draw in a deep, satisfying inhale, then walk back to my desk and run my thumb over the file.
I look at the time on my wristwatch.
Any minute.
Any minute now.
35
Harley
Ten minutes later, his skyscraper comes fully into view.
Tall, looming, powerful.
My choice.
My control.
This moment is mine. It belongs to me.
No one else can manipulate me.
No one else can trick me, lure me, bribe me.
I’m in charge of my life.
I make my own damn plans.
I’m my own woman.
I walk on, closing the distance. I weave past New Yorkers making their own choices, choosing work, choosing love, choosing fear, choosing nothing.
I can choose too. That’s what’s different this time.
I reach his block, the building like a magnet. I’m nearly there. Ten more feet. Five. One.
I stop, staring up at the sky, at the top of the tower.
Then my gaze lands on the revolving doors.
Through them, I can step back into my past.
Because it feels like my future.
THE STORY OF HARLEY and TREY continues in THE THRILL OF IT, available everywhere.
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