Overdrive (Santa Lena Sizzles series Book 3)

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Overdrive (Santa Lena Sizzles series Book 3) Page 9

by Jessa York


  Believe me, he did a great job landing this woman, but I wasn’t about to reward him. He already had his prize. Nobody knew that more than me. I responded in as general terms as I could. “You guys look great together.” And I left it at that.

  He went on and on about his day and how important he was. It took everything I had in me to stop myself from punching the stupid ass in the face.

  Deep breaths. In and out. Vivienne finally caught my eye in the rearview mirror. I held her gaze for as long as safety would allow. She was gorgeous. Nothing in the world I’d love to do more than pull over, rip her away from that asshole, and kiss the shit out of her. Fuck was I ever going to miss kissing her, touching her.

  The idiot’s phone rang during one of his speeches about bonds versus equity—like I gave one fuck either way. “Yeah,” he answered, sitting his lucky ass back against the seat. While he spoke way too boisterously into his cell, Vivienne placed her delicate hand on the seat.

  “Jason, look, I…” was all I let her get out.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I swiveled my head around for a brief moment.

  “Would you let me…”

  “Just don’t, okay?” I said as the dufus finished his conversation, then proceeded to tell us how wonderful he was. Again.

  Thank God it didn’t take me much longer to get them to their destination. I parked right in front of the doors to the Bennett Center for the Arts. The Bennetts were a well-known, high-class family who had more money than God. They seemed to spread around an awful lot of it in our city, so for that we were all grateful. They built this particular building a few years ago, buying up a shit-load of unsightly properties in order to do it.

  Plenty of people were more than happy they got rid of the eyesores, replacing them with a huge auditorium theater and two convention halls. The main theater alone had three balconies and seated thousands.

  All around us, beautiful women were walking past in lavish evening gowns and the men in smart, stylish suits. I guess Vivienne wasn’t lying about an awards dinner, just the part about going stag—oh, and having a boyfriend/lover. She’d managed to leave out that part as well.

  The ignoramus paid me, then jumped out first, waiting for Vivienne to walk around to him. I sucked up my pride and got out so I could get past this awful, awkward moment and move on with our lives. Without each other.

  I dove out, then opened her door. She was still gathering up her long dress, probably so she wouldn’t step on it. Her eyes found mine, likely surprised I was the one holding open the door. After I offered my hand, she hesitated, but grabbed it anyway. I helped her out before shutting the door.

  “You look fantastic, Vivienne,” I whispered to her. She smiled up at me.

  “Jason, I…” she started, but I refused to let her make any stupid excuses.

  How badly I wished I could lean over and taste her full red lips. “I had a great time with you. The absolute best.” I gazed deeply into her stunned eyes. “I just wanted you to know that. Have a great life,” I said, squeezing her hand one last time before I hightailed it out of there.

  Vivienne

  Oh. My. God. What the hell just happened? Did he just break up with me? I stood aghast on the sidewalk where Jason left me, staring after his car, hoping with everything in me that he’d turn back around and take me away from this horrible nightmare.

  “What’s the holdup? We’ve got to get inside and grab a seat before all the good ones are taken,” Jared said, jerking on my hand. I nearly toppled over in these heels, the dumbass.

  “Watch it, Speedy. I’m wearing heels, not jogging shoes,” I retorted back, angrily yanking my hand out of his grasp. I took a minute to breathe. “Look, who the hell cares what seats we get? This thing is stupid anyway,” I yelled a bit too loudly. People started turning around to stare. Shit.

  “Okay, honey. Settle down,” Jared said as he grabbed my hand again, attempting to placate me, but I wouldn’t be silenced.

  “And would you stop calling me honey? It’s driving me nuts. We broke up like a million years ago. You don’t call your ex honey after you’re broken up. Even a jerk like you knows that.”

  He dropped my hand, leering at the people now stopped and staring at the spectacle before them. Then without a word, he spun around and paraded into the doors without me.

  Guess he finally got the hint.

  On the verge of tears after my emotional breakdown, I gave up and began searching desperately for a mode of transportation home.

  14

  Jason

  I had no idea how I managed to finish the rest of my shift that night or how I was able to still function and drive. My heart was crushed. The devastation made me practically gasp for air. At one point, one of my customers asked me if I needed an Ativan. That was when I decided to throw in the towel. Call it a day. A fucking awful day that ended way worse than it began.

  And I never saw it coming. That’s the thing I couldn’t figure out. How was I so wrong about her? She seemed genuine. Then to find out she not only had a boyfriend, but she was moving in with him soon? What the fuck?

  I didn’t want to believe it. The more I went over the lengthy conversation I’d had with the butthead, the more I realized I’d been taken. What reason would that moron have to lie to me? None. He didn’t know me from Adam.

  What reason did Vivienne have to lie to me? Let’s count. Number one: I drove for a living—as far as she knew anyway. Jared was highly successful. Annoying as hell, yes. But the man brought in some dough. Of course, she wouldn’t want him knowing we had an affair.

  Number two: He hated her house. They probably spent all their time at his. Therefore, not much chance of him spying a poor driver boinking his girlfriend.

  She’d fooled me. Twice.

  I really thought we were starting something. It wasn’t going to be smooth sailing. I knew that. We had our age difference, not to mention our financial differences. For some foolish reason, I thought we could work through that shit.

  Instead, Vivienne decided to keep me hidden away. She’d have her sugar daddy but also me on the side. Nice. Vivienne never gave me any hints that she was a player, but maybe that was what made her great at sales. A poker face.

  I was torn out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. Given the familiar tap, tap...ta-tap-tap...tap, tap, I knew who it was, and I opened it despite the late hour.

  “Yo, Eddie. What’s up? Burning the midnight oil?” I asked my friend as I let him in. Eddie smiled at me and prowled in, making himself comfortable as usual. Eddie was his American name. One day he told me his Chinese name, and I swore I spent twenty minutes trying to say it, unsuccessfully. It was a beautiful name. I was just complete crap at learning other languages.

  “I saw your light on at night for a change. Where ya been hidin’ out?” he asked coyly and began to search through my cupboards for something to eat. Eddie was pretty much always hungry, even five minutes after he just ate. I guessed that was the real reason why his parents finally kicked their twenty-five-year-old son out of their house. Who could afford to feed him?

  Apparently, I could because he was here eating my food every day.

  “Places,” I answered him vaguely.

  “Girl places?” he chided and began to laugh. His laugh sounded more like a machine gun than an actual laugh.

  “Don’t you worry where I’ve been. I’ll be here at nights from now on.” I informed him, defeated. After all, I didn’t want to be here. I would give anything to have been in Vivienne’s bed doing wonderful, nasty things with her and to her. Not sitting here in my crappy apartment watching as Eddie successfully pieced together a bologna sandwich.

  He stared at me and frowned deeply. “Something happen? I’m guessing you were with a chick?” He cocked his head to the side. “What did you do?” he asked, assuming I did something wrong. What did I do wrong? I fell for a smart, hot, older woman who used me. That’s all. Fuck, that stung. My stomach growled loudly watching Eddie as he consumed his sandwi
ch. Well, technically, it was my sandwich.

  I decided to get up and eat something for the first time in hours. Trying to keep my shit together while I drove meant not eating or drinking anything for fear it would come right back up. The nausea from seeing Vivienne with that douche had set me off. His words replayed in my head all night. Everything he said before we got to her house was on a constant loop, playing over and over again with more and more detail until I was sick.

  After hours of punishing myself, I finally came to the realization that she just wasn’t looking for what I was. She wanted a quick, on-the-sly encounter, and I wanted… What the fuck did I want?

  I shook my head as I opened the door to the fridge. Fuck. All of Vivienne’s leftovers were sitting in my fridge. Goddamn that woman.

  “Ed, it’s your lucky day,” I told him as I began stacking all of Vivienne’s plastic containers onto the counter beside the fridge. I’d accumulated a lot of these little bastards.

  “What’s in there?” I had piqued Eddie’s interest. That wasn’t unusual. If it came from a fridge, Eddie was interested. I pulled out a plastic bag and packed everything up.

  “Enjoy. But I need the stupid containers back, okay?” I shoved the still swaying bag in his direction. “Don’t chuck them out,” I added, but had no idea why. What the hell did I care if Eddie stomped on her fucking coveted plastic ware? As far as I was concerned, he could burn them. Well, more like melt them.

  He stared at me in disbelief and sat down on my couch. “What’s going on, buddy?” he said through a mouthful of bologna. “Someone made that for you special. Your woman? I’m not going to eat something she made for you. Even I have my limits.” He chomped off another bite of his sandwich.

  “You have limits on what kind of food you eat? Since when? You don’t seem to discriminate when it comes to the contents of my fridge,” I pointed toward the fridge, the bag swinging around wildly, “or my cupboards. Or the pantry.” I sounded more pissed by the second.

  “Cool down. You and your girl have a fight? That happens, you know, with any relationship. Just buy her some flowers, then apologize for whatever shit you did wrong. Girls love flowers,” he added, popping in the last corner of crust.

  Yeah, I’d go buy her flowers and deliver them to her while she was in bed with another man. Doesn’t that sound fucking fantastic? That was probably where they were right now, in her giant bed, enjoying each other. She’d probably had a great laugh about the comedy of errors that destroyed the evening for me. What were the chances I’d get the call to come pick up her and the douche?

  “Nobody to buy flowers for, Ed. Not anymore.” I sighed, sliding down onto the couch with him as I chucked the stupid bag onto the table. Jinxy jumped up onto my lap for some love.

  “Dude, don’t freak out. Couples fight, they get over it, and the makeup sex is awesome.” He snorted before exploding into laughter again.

  “You’re not listening to me. There’s nobody to buy flowers for or to have makeup sex with. Not for me anyway. She, however, has her boyfriend to do all that stuff with.” I threw in to make him understand the whole picture so we could stop talking about this shit already.

  He slapped his legs. “Shut up, man. She was two-timing you? You? No way. I don’t believe it,” he said, shoving his hand in my face in disbelief.

  “Believe it. The whole time she was with me, she was sleeping with someone else. They’re moving in together soon, too,” I said as I pulled Jinxy in for a hug while I propped my feet up onto my ultra-cool coffee table that I found at a garage sale.

  “This does not compute, man. How could she mess around on you? It just makes no sense.”

  “You want to know the sad thing? I was really into her, Ed. I really thought we—” I cut myself off before I started sounding like a big whiny bitch in front of my friend and lost his respect entirely. “Whatever. She made her choices.” She made mine, too, without consulting me first.

  Eddie got up to grab a soda from the fridge. He threw me one, and I held the cold can against my throbbing head. I got headaches when I didn’t eat. That was one more thing I learned from my childhood. But when I was a kid, it wasn’t heartache that kept me from eating. It was poverty and neglect.

  I popped the can slowly, listening to the bubbles fizz. Hopefully, a few mouthfuls of this and I’d be feeling better. My head would feel better anyway. The rest of me might take a while.

  “What’s this? Twenty-three messages? Thirty-one calls?” Eddie said as he scooped up my phone on the counter. Nosy bastard. “That does not sound like a woman who is ready to give up on you. Call her back and see what she says,” he said as he lobbed my phone to me. Jinxy got spooked from the movement, dashing away.

  “I really don’t need to hear her excuses and apologies so she can make herself feel better. It’s been a fucking shitty day. I just want to drink this and head to bed. I’m fuckin’ wiped,” I said, leaning my arms on my lap, trying my best to hold myself together. My head felt like it was going to explode, my guts ached, and my mind just kept going places it shouldn’t.

  It was over. I needed to accept it and move the fuck on.

  “I’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. Usually you’re one cool customer with the ladies. This woman must’ve been something special,” Eddie said in a quiet, worried tone. He had such a serious look on his face. “How about I bring over my DVD player and we watch a movie or something?”

  Eddie was one of the holdouts. He still owned a DVD player and roughly a million DVDs. He collected them like I collected books, so far be it from me to call him out on his addiction when I had my own bibliophile issues. There might be an empty spot somewhere in one of my bookshelves, but not likely.

  I found it rather difficult to pass by the used bookstore across the street. It called me in, so it wasn’t really my fault. I was a sucker for great books. There were certainly worse things I could be addicted to.

  “Cool customer?” I shook my head, chuckling. Leave it to Eddie to make me laugh when all I wanted to do was go to sleep and forget this shit ever happened. “Well, this cool customer needs sleep. But thanks for the invitation, man. I really appreciate it. Maybe tomorrow night?” Tomorrow night sounded so fucking far away. That was another entire twenty-four hours without Vivienne—without her laugh, her smile, or our funny conversations. I took another long gulp on my drink, wishing I had something stronger than soda in the house.

  Booze wasn’t the answer, though. I’d also learned that early. It works pretty well to dull the shit you had going on in the present, but come morning, that same shit was still there to greet you, bright and early. Only then you got to deal with it while nursing a hell of a hangover.

  Not to say I didn’t have the occasional beer, but my drinking days were done. They had been for years now. I liked to be in control of myself. But right now, all I could think of was how a little numbing might be nice.

  I gawked down at my phone as it started buzzing again with an incoming call. Vivienne.

  I was tempted to pick up and yell and scream at her for fucking with my head. I put down my phone and my drink before I threw them both across the room. Running my hands over my face, I asked for serenity and a new life.

  15

  Vivienne

  Why was he refusing to pick up his goddamn phone? I’d been trying to get a hold of him for hours now, but the stupid ass wouldn’t answer my calls or messages. If I knew his address, I’d run over there and shake some sense into him.

  I understood why he was pissed. Hell, I’d be through the roof mad if the situation were reversed. But he needed to give me a chance to explain myself. Even so, I still didn’t get exactly why he was mad enough to cut off all communication. Sure, he’d be mad that I lied about going to the banquet with an ex-boyfriend instead of going stag like I had originally told him. But I was sure it had to be clear that I hated Jared’s guts and didn’t want to be there with him. Wasn’t it?

  Sleep eluded me the entire night. I kept
checking my phone every minute like a crazy woman in hopes that he’d reply. But nothing. Not one word the whole night.

  Looking in the mirror at my puffy, bloodshot eyes, and red, splotchy skin, I couldn’t imagine going in to work today. I rubbed my fingers over the top of my swollen eyelids, hoping to massage some of the inflammation out of them, but no luck. They looked worse than ever.

  Great. Just great. Not only did I have a full day’s work, but I had to drive two hours out of town to meet up with potential new clients and win them over with my charm and fun-loving personality—and heinously red, puffy eyes.

  I had a long, hot shower, hoping it would aid with the swelling. The mirror completely fogged up, so I swiped it with a face cloth. Fantastic. Now my face was even more swollen than before.

  I moved my head around, thinking that maybe it’d look better from different directions, but no. Still frightening as hell. Splashing cold water onto my face did nothing either.

  Maybe twice had I ever called in sick in the five years I’d worked for Brentford. Many times I’d been sick. I just never took a day off. Ever. Admitting that you were sick was your first mistake. Mind over matter. Tough it out.

  Of course, there was that one girls’ night out when Harper met Jack. He’d bought us delicious pink drinks that tasted like Heaven. The hangover the next day, however, was more like Hell. Even then, I’d only taken a couple hours off the next morning.

  But today, looking at my grotesque self in the mirror, I was more than ready to throw in the towel. Yes, I was vain. I’d like you to show me one salesperson who would sell anything at all looking like this. Exactly. It just was not happening.

  “Arrrrrhhhhhh!” I yelled at myself in the mirror, glad that nobody could hear me. “You will not allow a man to ruin your career. Do you hear me? Especially not one who doesn’t have the bloody decency to return one of your fifteen million texts or calls.” I deep breathed and found a backbone. “You will go to work. You will win over these new clients, disfigured Elephant Man face and all,” I said to the scary woman in the mirror. “Now stop being a big baby over some man you hardly know and get back out into the world.”

 

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