by Kira Blakely
“Huh?” I plugged my other ear, even though there was no noise on my side except for the distant hum of traffic. “Sorry to disappoint, Beebs, but I’m not exactly hooked up to the grapevine right now.”
Another reason I’d drifted apart from my old friend. She was still all about her. Ashamedly, I’d been all about me at one point, too.
“Don’t play dumb,” Bebe said and laughed again, but there was an edge to that. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I really don’t.”
“OK, I’ll bite. So, like, everyone’s talking about the hottest bachelor in Manhattan. I think you know him. Beckett Price.”
“OK? Well, um, why should I care?” My pulse raced regardless, and I paced past Penny’s playpen and back again. “Beckett’s bachelorhood is his problem.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Bebe hissed.
“Are you going to get to the point any time soon or am I going to have to wring it out of you?”
“Everyone knows, hon.”
“Knows what?”
“That you’re fucking him.”
My jaw dropped. That was impossible. We’d only had sex literally three hours ago. “What the fuck? I’m not—what—?”
“Okay, maybe not fucking, but they took pictures of him visiting your building. They did some sleuthing and found out who he’d gone up to see. And it’s you. And I mean, I saw him there the other day so I assumed—”
“Well, don’t assume,” I snapped.
“Good,” Bebe said and let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I just—I was concerned, babe. You see, there’s something you don’t know about Beckett Price.”
“What’s that?” I asked and steeled my insides.
Oh god. I had no idea what to expect here. Beckett was capable of practically anything in my mind. He’d driven a car into his father’s pool, for fuck’s sake. Not any car, a Lambo, and then he’d followed that up by smashing every window in the downstairs of the house. He’d taken a knife to the sofas then tripped the alarm and walked out of the house.
And then he’d come to me.
Kissed me.
Left me.
“Beckett Price used to be mine,” Bebe said. The possessiveness in her voice was unmistakable.
Jealousy flared in my chest. “What?”
“He used to be mine,” she shouted. “I hooked up with him a couple of months ago, babes. Before any of this happened. And I just don’t want to see you get hurt like he hurt me. He fucked me and dumped me. That’s the type of guy he is, OK? So, just be careful. If you haven’t fucked him already, don’t do it.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I said, numbly.
He’d fucked Bebe?
Oh god, this was it. This was what would finally kill me. My chest hurt. I hated myself for the fact that it hurt.
“Stay safe, doll.” And Bebe hung up, her mission for the night completed.
I couldn’t blame her for warning me or for sleeping with him. I’d never told her or anyone about my feelings for him or our history, and it was logical that they’d roll in similar circles. She was the daughter of a businessman. She partied, drank, and smoked, and I didn’t.
Regardless, it didn’t hurt any less, and I walked to the sofa in the living room and sank down into it, fists balled up.
Everyone knew Beckett had come to see me. What would this do to Penny?
I needed her to have a normal life.
This was the last thing we needed.
And it was all my fault.
Chapter 15
Beckett
The bar hopped with activity. Drunk men and women abounded, dressed up or down. Men wearing earrings and makeup, women close to bare chested. Rusty’s was pure grunge. People from the side of the tracks I’d always felt I belonged to. I had never matched the respectable, intellectual Ithaca aesthetic on the inside.
And the tattoos beneath my shirt proved it. The jail time. The scars on my knuckles from the fights. There was a long time between when my father bailed me out, then kicked me out of his house. Court had followed, jail time, community service, and then I’d lived out on the streets.
For months I’d refused help from Michael, until finally he dragged me back to his place and forced me to take a good hard look at myself in the mirror. Shabby hair and beard— fuck, I’d been a wreck.
Smooth on the outside, now, but bad to the fucking bone.
Except when it comes to her.
I sat in the corner booth, my torso and face in darkness, watching. The bartender here knew me well, and he knew better than to talk about where I’d been.
When I wanted off the radar, I came here.
No one had ever snapped a photo of me in Rusty’s. If they did, they’d likely get their phone broken or shoved right up their ass for their trouble. This was my safe zone.
Not so for Kayla.
She entered at the far end of the bar, still carrying that cursed leopard print handbag. Christ, when had that come into style again?
Even the women in here looked at that accessory like she’d personally insulted them.
Kayla scanned the room, going as far as to place her hand above her eyes and shield it from the non-existent glare.
Rusty’s was dingy, with a cracked mirror behind the bar, worn stools with their stuffing poking out the sides, and so much booze caked on the floor it’d become a permanent fixture. Nobody slipped on the floor in here—they were more likely to stick to it.
I waited patiently.
Fuck it, impatiently.
Kayla finally spotted me and flounced over, wearing her pantsuit and her fiery hair up in a bun atop her head. She turned her nose up at everything and everyone, including the table I’d chosen.
I grinned at her and lifted the beer glass to my lips, glugging back a Mexican Blonde. “You made it,” I said.
“It took me like, what, half an hour to find this place?” Kayla sat down on the red booth chair, wincing as she did. She made to put down her handbag, thought better of it, and plonked it in her lap instead. “You couldn’t have chosen something more accessible?”
“No,” I replied. “Inaccessible is the point. You wanted to talk in person, in private? Well, here we are.”
“Right,” she said.
“Drink?” I asked.
“You could catch chlamydia in here,” she replied. “So, that’s a no from me.”
“Suit yourself,” I said and finished the last of my beer, putting up my fingers for another. Olivia wouldn’t approve. She hadn’t approved of her little brother slipping into club life, either.
The bartender himself brought me another beer and placed it carefully—a luxury no other patron was afforded in here.
I nodded once, and he scuttled off again. “So,” I said. “Everyone on social media thinks I’m dating someone, right? I’m taken now?”
“That’s the general gist of it,” Kayla said and eyed my drink. “Everyone’s buzzing about it. They’re all about Beckett Price and Olivia Abbott.”
“What?!” I spat a little beer. Christ. “They know it’s her?”
“Yeah, they know it’s her. They spoke to the doorman or receptionist or whatever the hell is in her building. They know it’s her, and they know you’re visiting her,” Kayla said.
“Christ. Jesus H. Fuck.” This was a disaster. I didn’t need this. Olivia didn’t need this.
The women I’d fucked in the past had all been disposable. I hadn’t cared if they suffered for my bad reputation—most of them had loved it, regardless, and every one of them had known the score going in. One didn’t simply sleep with Beckett Price and expect a happy ending.
But Olivia’s different. She’s mine. And she might just expect that happy ending.
“Fuck,” I said, again. “I’ll end it with her.”
“What?!” It was Kayla’s turn to spit but not beer. A speck of saliva flew from her mouth and landed on the table. She swiped at it and grimaced at touching the tabletop. “Are you crazy?
”
She was probably one of the few people who’d dare to ask me that. I allowed it because she had to keep my image in check, and I couldn’t have her censored while doing that.
“Don’t push it,” I said. “If I end it with her, not that there’s anything to end, but if I push out a public statement that it’s bullshit, they’ll leave her alone.” She’d have peace, and I’d have sanity.
We’d go our separate ways again before I broke her. I’d claimed her, hadn’t I? I’d claimed her so that I could let this obsession go now. Finally.
But my guts swirled into a mess at the thought.
“We don’t want that,” Kayla said.
I stared at her as if she’d lost her brain in that godawful handbag. “What?”
“Think about it, Beck, this is exactly what you need.” Kayla rubbed her hands together like an evil genius. “Everyone’s calling you the party boy. Work hard, play even harder. There are rumors about you with strippers, for fuck’s sake.”
Bullshit rumors.
“Everyone wants to believe you’re this horrible, scummy guy,” she said and glanced over her shoulder, surreptitiously. “And no one can say no to a good phoenix-from-the-ashes story. You can make a comeback with this. Make it look like you’re really in love with this girl.”
“No,” I said.
Penny deserved better. Olivia—fuck, she was my best friend’s sister. She was… she was Olivia.
“Think about this rationally,” Kayla said and patted the air as if she could make me consider this for even a second. “You need the help. You walked out of a meeting with a very popular man today, and you can bet Cooper’s cronies will find a way to use that against you. To make you look reckless. Like a bad bet.”
“Still no.”
“You don’t have to get into a relationship with this girl. You can fake it. The rumors are already out there. All you have to do is capitalize on them.”
“Have you gone deaf, Kayla?” I swirled the beer glass in my hand. Over by the bar, two tatted guys were on the verge of an argument. One poked the other in the chest and growled.
It was a momentary distraction. Fuck, I couldn’t even consider Kayla’s suggestion. Not with a child in the picture.
“Listen to me, Beck,” she said, “people already think you’re with her. It’s too late to say it’s over. They’ll still be intrigued. They’ll still dig into it and ask questions. Either you’ll leave her and she’ll wind up dealing with that on her own, or you’ll stay and help her with it. You could talk to her about it. Come on.” She touched my arm, then.
My steely gaze cut to the point of contact, and she snatched her hand back.
“She has a child to look after. My best friend’s daughter. I won’t bring her into this,” I said.
Kayla shrank in her seat and exhaled. “Shit, really? How old?”
“Two,” I said and drank from my glass, downing the last of the beer in one slug. I needed to stop, but the pressure of tonight had caught me. Fuck, I’d had Olivia at last, and the secret was out before it’d even happened.
Complicated. Broken promises and trouble for both of us.
“Fine,” Kayla said. “But it’s one hell of an opportunity. You’re not going to achieve your business goals until you shake the bad boy image you’re toting around with you. I’m not asking you to be a good guy, Beck. I’m asking you to pretend to be one.”
I grunted. “Aren’t you a fucking charmer?”
“I’m a realist.” She shrugged.
Behind her, the fight erupted into being. The burlier dude swung his fist and clocked the other guy in the jaw. The shorter one tackled him against the bar, and a series of screams rang out. Women yelled obscenities and tugged on the men’s arms, while others laughed in the background.
My brow wrinkled. I signaled to the bartender. He signaled to his bouncers.
The fight was moved outside immediately and forcibly.
The thump of music continued, the chatter returned to normal decibel levels—normal for this bar, anyway—and I focused on my publicist again. “I’m not faking shit. I’m many things, Kayla, many bad things, but I’m not a faker, and I never will be.”
“Ugh,” she said and threw her arms up in the air. “Suit yourself. Just keep it in the back of your mind as an option. This could be your saving grace, and I don’t mean to sound like a dick here, Beck, but I’ve never known you to be the type of guy who gives a shit about anyone or anything other than your business and the next glass of whiskey.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” I asked, my tone dangerously calm.
“That you put the business first. And this time, you’re not. That’s… different.” She’d planned on using another word, but I wouldn’t force it out of her.
Fuck her suggestions.
Whatever saving Grace it might’ve been. I’d have to warn Olivia about what was coming from all the idiots who gave a shit about this billionaire bachelor crap, then end it. Or just walk away.
She’d survive.
And my guilt for what’d happened to Michael would triple—along with the guilt over breaking that promise and fucking his sister.
This was a mess. All of it.
I pressed the glass aside with my fingertips and leveled Kayla with a gaze. “We’re done here.”
“Fine,” she said. “Fine.” But I’d clearly pissed her off. She huffed and puffed, grabbed her handbag and slung it over her arm, then rose. “But just so you know, Beck, you’re making it very hard for me to do my job properly.”
“It’s your job to make this work. So do it.”
“No,” she said. “It’s my job to portray you in the best light possible and help you improve at presenting that front. I can’t work with a brick.”
I dismissed her by losing focus.
She huffed one last time then marched off, flinching this way and that, moving away from people and avoiding physical contact at all costs. Then she was out of the door and away.
If the business suffered because of this, then fine. I wouldn’t draw Penny and Olivia into my shit. But I had to come up with a way to protect them. Even if it meant walking out all over again.
Chapter 16
Olivia
He still hadn’t called.
I tucked my cellphone back into the pocket of my jeans and tried settling back on the checked picnic blanket next to my Uncle George. Nicki played with Penny out in the sunlight, kicking a ball and laughing as Penny toddled after it, shrieking with glee, the rim of her little pink sun hat flopping up and down, up and down.
Why hadn’t he called?
Stop. Fucking. Dwelling. On. It.
I shouldn’t care.
Right now, Beckett’s lack of contact with me was the least of my problems.
Top on the list were 1) the fact that all the socialites and cougars in Manhattan thought I was dating Beckett and 2) George and Nicki had shown up at my apartment unannounced this morning and demanded we go out for a picnic.
Their increasingly intrusive behavior worried me. A lot.
“Look at them playing,” Uncle George said, a grin parting his too-thick lips. “Aren’t they cute together? You’d think they’re grandmother and granddaughter the way they act around each other.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It’d been, what, a week since Nicki and George had turned up in front of my door? And in that time, they’d forced us out to a restaurant all together, which Penny hadn’t enjoyed, and Nicki had made her shriek-cry and proposed to tell me how to raise her.
They were hardly related to Penny. They were distant. They were…totally inappropriate.
I swallowed and forced a smile.
I’d deal with this later. After all, they couldn’t plan on staying for much longer. Surely, they had jobs to get back to in Ohio.
Instead, I grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the picnic basket they’d packed for us and cracked it. All across the Great Lawn in Central Park, people sat on their blankets, enjoying thei
r Saturday afternoon. Green grass as far as the eye could see.
Happy faces, the shrill cries of kids having fun and chasing each other around. Laughter and a blue sky overhead, with a few wisps of white to complement it.
There were happy families, small and large, as well as couples. Two teenagers sat under a tree just behind us, laughing, talking, holding hands. It would’ve been cute, except it made me want to throw up a little.
Romance and happiness and things had started getting…complicated.
It was my fault.
I cast around for anything to distract myself. I sipped the Diet Coke and smiled at my uncle. “So,” I said. “We’ve hardly had a chance to speak properly since you guys came to visit. Things have been so crazy, what with Penny crying and, well, you know.” They’d seen how she’d behaved at Chuck E. Cheese’s. “How are things going at home? How are the boys?”
“All grown up, just like you,” George said, with a rueful smile. “The house has been quite empty without them around.”
“And work?”
George shifted. “Fine,” he said. But it was one of those “fine”s. It was a lie. I didn’t press, though. It wasn’t my place. Then again, they’d had hardly any boundaries with me since they’d arrived.
“And with Nicki?”
“All fine, Olivia,” he said and frowned at me. “Why are you asking such strange questions?”
“They’re hardly strange questions,” I replied. “I’m just intrigued. You guys came to visit, and I’m trying to make conversation.”
“I don’t usually do small talk.” George ruffled his tufty hair. “Besides, we’re here to help you and Penny, not the other way around.”
My heart didn’t swell at all. Not a flutter of joy. I dropped my head back and absorbed the sun on my face. I closed my eyes, and the light colored the insides of my eyelids red. This would’ve been a perfect day if I could relax for a second.
Another shriek, and I snapped my head upright and searched for Penny.
“Relax,” George said and patted my knee. “She’s just laughing. Nicki’s tickling her, see?”
And so she was, but I still wasn’t comfortable. The fact that they’d come here uninvited still bothered me, and Beckett’s comment about Nicki being a freeloader had crawled into my mind again. “Uncle George?”