Tell Me to Go

by Charlotte Byrd

  I’ve played enough games for one day. I’ve heard enough untruths.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” I ask.

  “It depends,” he says without missing a beat.

  “On what?”

  “On what it was about. You already know that you do not know much about my business.”

  “But I will in the future?” I insist.

  “No, I can’t say that you will. Some things you just can’t know. It will be too dangerous.”

  I lean over the table. “You know, I’m a big girl. I’m getting really sick of all of these men in my life trying to decide what I should and shouldn’t know.”

  Nicholas sits back, completely unfazed.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way but it’s not going to change,” he says. “There are certain parts about my life that you just cannot know about.”

  “Like what?” I challenge him. He narrows his eyes and gives me a wink.

  “Like what’s on that laptop you got for me,” he says.

  “That’s the first and last job that I’m doing for you without knowing everything.”

  The smirk vanishes suddenly. Nicholas leans forward over his plate. “That’s not up to you. You agreed to do as I say, whatever I need you to do. If you don’t comply, if you demand answers that I can’t provide out of fear for your safety, then I rescind my offer.”

  Each word of his statement lands like a punch. I didn’t want to get into this now. My day has been too emotional as it is.

  He sees the disappointment on my face. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to be so harsh in my language, but I just want to be very clear about what is going to happen,” Nicholas adds.

  The only thing that I am clear about is that I am tired of all of the lies.

  I have spent the day listening to Owen lie on the stand.

  For years, I believed that he was wrongfully convicted, or at the very least, doing way too much time for the crime that he had committed.

  But today, I found out that he was actually a criminal for a long time, one that eluded the police. That’s probably why he refused to testify against his friends. Not out of some perverse sense of loyalty but rather out of obligation. Who knows what they had on him that they could use as retribution?

  And now…sitting here across the table from Nicholas, the man who stirs the kind of emotions within me that I have never felt before, I am being forced to accept more lies from him.

  Only this time, he is warning me about them.

  He will hide things.

  He will lie to me.

  He will obfuscate the truth.

  I just have to accept it because that’s part of our agreement.

  Well, fuck that!

  “No, absolutely not,” I say.

  Nicholas rubs one of his temples with his index finger. “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s not our agreement and if that’s what you want to make it now, then I am not going along with it.”

  “You can’t,” he says.

  “Yes, I can. I’m back home. Just get on your plane and get the hell out of here. I don’t need you.”

  The waiter comes over to our table and we both sit up straight and force polite smiles. This a nice restaurant with a water view and no entrees under twenty bucks.

  “Let’s calm down,” Nicholas says after the waiter leaves.

  “I am calm.” I look straight into his eyes without flinching one bit. “I am just done with listening to lies.”

  He takes a deep breath. He looks away first.

  “I don’t mean to lie to you. There is just certain information that I am not privy to discuss.”

  “What does that mean?”

  HIs eyes widen as if he is surprised by my question. I tilt my head to one side and wait for him to explain. But he doesn’t.

  “What do you do for a living?” I ask. Again, he doesn’t reply. “It’s a simple question. Some people are lawyers. Doctors. Firemen.”

  “I am none of those things.”

  “So, what is it that you do?” I have no idea where all of this pent up energy and anger is coming from but it’s just rushing to the surface and out of my mouth.

  “You know what I do, Olive,” Nicholas says quietly.

  I have some idea, of course. I know that he’s a thief and a con man. What I don’t know is who he works for and the extent of what it is that he does.

  “I think you need some rest. Today was a very emotional day for you,” he says, putting his hand on mine. I jerk it away.

  “Don’t tell me what I need,” I say. “I know what I need. The truth.”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that he is right. The reason I’m so emotional is because of everything that happened at Owen’s hearing and the fact that I still don’t know what the resolution was.

  But I can’t admit that to him. Not now.

  My pride won’t let me.

  “You want to know something true?” he asks, cocking his head.

  I nod.

  “That woman who surprised you at Dallas’s hotel room…” his voice trails off.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “She’s dead,” Nicholas says.

  33

  When I find out the truth…

  His words reverberate in my head over and over again but I still don’t understand. How could she be dead?

  “Rosemary?” I ask.

  “You know her name?” Nicholas hisses. “How do you know her name?”

  I shrug. “She introduced herself when she came in.”

  “Okay, tell me everything that happened.”

  I run through the story that I told him earlier. Only this time, my mind doesn’t immediately go to my lust for Dallas or the jealousy that I wanted Nicholas to feel. I keep my voice low and speak in metaphors because I don’t want anyone around us to hear.

  When the waiter comes back and asks us about dessert, I refuse to see the menu to not even give myself the chance to be tempted by something dark and delicious. Nicholas asks for the check and hands him his card without even looking at it. Neither of us says anything while we wait for it to come back for him to sign. Once he does, we promptly exit the restaurant.

  In the privacy of his rental car, Nicholas wants me to go over everything that happened that night with Dallas yet again.

  “Do not neglect to mention a single detail,” he insists.

  I take a deep breath and start at the beginning. Once I describe how I felt the first time I saw Dallas, Nicholas’ face contorts for a moment and then relaxes. He clenches his jaw.

  “You found him attractive?” he asks, stroking his Adam’s apple. I nod.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He was hot. WE had this…chemistry.”

  He smooths down the cuffs of his shirt and then looks at me again.

  “Why is this important?” I ask. “I mean, why do you even care? Tell me what happened to Rosemary.”

  “Rosemary’s real name was Caitlyn Montgomery Sudik,” he says without missing a beat. “She grew up in Florida and trained at the Bloom Academy.”

  Is that a school? I’m not sure why this is relevant. I give him a blank stare.

  “The Bloom Academy is a secret and very elite private school that teaches men and women about the art of seduction,” Nicholas explains. “She was recruited and taught well and has since traveled the world and made a lot of money for the organization.”

  “What organization?” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. He is telling me a lot more than he did before so I don’t push for now.

  “So, what happened to her?” I ask.

  “She never came back after meeting with Dallas. She texted her boyfriend that she was meeting up with a friend of hers but they never met and her friend didn’t know a thing about this supposed meeting. Her body was found yesterday, deep in the rainforest by a couple of hikers. The police are clueless but my sources suspect that it’s Dallas’s doing.”

  I p
ut my hand over my mouth.

  If the police don’t know who did it, what sources does Nicholas have that tell him that it was Dallas?

  “You were the last person to see her alive,” Nicholas says as if he can read my mind. “Well, not the last, but you were the one who left them in that room together. Alive and well.”

  “Are you saying that this is my fault?” I ask.

  “No, not at all. It’s mine.”

  “How is it your fault?”

  “I should have never told you about that laptop or that job,” he says. “I’m just glad that it wasn’t you.”

  I hope that whatever was on that laptop was worth it, I want to say. But I immediately catch myself.

  What could that laptop possibly contain that would be worth a human life? A young, healthy life of an innocent at that?

  “Do you really think Dallas did it?” I whisper.

  Nicholas gives me one conclusive nod.

  I shake my head, no, no, no.

  “What do you think happened?” I ask.

  “He might have seen that the laptop was switched and thought that she was in on it. Or he might have found it suspicious that you just suddenly left and again took it out on her.”

  I look down and rub the outside of my knuckles on my left hand.

  “I’m not saying this was your fault, not at all.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “But I am involved in some serious shit, Olive. With some serious people. And the less you know about it the better.”

  My stomach begins to roil.

  Doesn’t he realize that this whole thing happened because I didn’t know enough?

  He should’ve told me that I was going there.

  He should’ve trusted me enough to let me handle it.

  If we had followed his original plan, Rosemary would still be alive.

  “Dallas Stone is a savage. He has killed many people. I only know of a few, but that’s enough. That’s why I didn’t want you doing that. Not for me. Not for any offer.”

  Owen thinks you killed a few people as well, and yet here we are, I want to say. But I bite my tongue.

  Growing weary of second-guessing and going over every regret from that night, I pivot our conversation.

  “How long have you been tracking him?” I ask.

  “For about a year. That’s why I set up my headquarters in Maui. I knew that he was going to be there to go to one of those parties, just not when.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say.

  “For what?” he says. “That your friend and my friend are frisky and decided to go to a sex club together? You didn’t know what they did together. And neither did I.”

  I nod. We sit in silence for a while staring into the distance.

  My thoughts return to Rosemary.

  She was so beautiful and perfect and now she’s dead.

  It’s all because of me.

  Dallas might have done it but were it not for me, she would still be drawing breath.

  I glance over at Nicholas. His mind is likewise occupied.

  Rain starts to fall and we both watch the droplets smash into the windshield.

  How did everything get so complicated? I wonder.

  34

  When we kiss…

  Nicholas booked a few nights at the Ritz, but I don’t feel like staying at a five-star hotel. Instead, I invite him over to my place.

  We have the lease for six more months and I have no idea if we should give it up. Frankly, the world has been spinning so fast recently that it’s hard to find solid footing.

  After giving Nicholas a brief tour around the living room, the kitchen, and my bedroom, I glance down at my phone and realize that I hadn’t texted Sydney back since this morning. She even left me a few voice mail messages, and she never leaves voice mails.

  Scanning the transcriptions instead of listening to her frantic voice, I know that I can’t not write her back. I need to put her mind at ease even though all I want to do is to curl up in my sheets and not come out of bed for days.

  “Make yourself at home,” I say, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

  I quickly type up a long paragraph summarizing everything that happened and press send. I add another text for good measure: can’t text anymore tonight. Will message you tomorrow for sure.

  Instead of long paragraphs, Sydney has always been a rapid fire type of replier. Every thought gets its individual line.

  OMG, seriously?

  I was thinking about you all day.

  Btw, James is amazing!!!

  Okay, let’s talk tomorrow.

  How’s our apt?

  I read them quickly but want to not write back but I can’t stop myself.

  Everything’s great here. Still have to figure out what to do about the lease. R u moving to HI?

  Maybe?? Yes! No! I don’t know.

  Shrug emoji.

  Nicholas parks himself on the couch and buries his head in his phone. After I put mine down, I see him swiping through emails and checking different apps for who knows what.

  “So, what now?” I ask.

  He mumbles something without looking up.

  “What’s going to happen now?” I ask again.

  He finishes typing something and looks up. “What are you referring to?”

  “I mean, we came here for the hearing. I really appreciate you letting me do that.”

  I cringe at my use of the word let. He didn’t let me. I don’t need his permission.

  Yet, I still want to thank him for what he did: bringing me here on his private plane in all of the comforts that kind of lifestyle affords.

  “Thank you for not rescinding the offer,” I say. “I still want to do it.”

  “One year with me? You sure you can handle that?” he jokes.

  “It’s you that you should worry about.” I smile. His hand grazes his temple just as he drops his chin.

  “Yeah, I’m getting that sense.”

  Our eyes lock on each other’s and we share a moment. Suddenly, nothing else exists except the two of us. I don’t know much about him and he doesn’t know much about me but that’s part of the attraction. It’s the mystery that gives me all of the feels.

  I take a step toward him, he takes two closer to me.

  He brings his hands to my face. They smell like lemon.

  He squeezed one into his drink over dinner.

  The scent is intoxicating. I stand up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.

  I bury my fingers in his hair. It is so soft and luxurious I can lose myself in it.

  He opens his mouth and our tongues intertwine. But only for a moment. Then he starts kissing my neck.

  Warmth starts to radiate from somewhere in between my legs and course through the rest of my body.

  My hands search for an entrance into his flesh. I peel off his jacket, dropping it to the floor.

  His shirt is tucked in. Tightly. His mouth returns to mine as I tug on it trying to keep our lips together. I laugh. Then he laughs. He pulls the shirt up from the back and helps me unbutton the front.

  I do one button for his two.

  Once the shirt is shed, I take a second to admire the body underneath. I run my fingers down his washboard abs. Then I run them back up again. I kiss his nipples, one at a time.

  He takes off my cardigan and kisses my arms, from the shoulders down to the crook of my elbows. Instead of letting him, I wrap my arms around his neck. He tries to unbutton my blouse, but I don’t even let him untuck it. Instead, I just pull up my skirt over my butt and place his palms on my cheeks.

  “Hmmm,” he moans, squeezing them gently.

  “In case there’s any confusion,” I say slowly. “This is me begging you to do it.”

  He pulls away from me. His eyes light up. Even twinkle. I roll mine.

  “Oh, is that right?” He squeezes me tightly.

  “Please, fuck me,” I whisper into his ear.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says, spinning me aro
und.

  There’s a perfectly good bed right over there.

  My roommate is six thousand miles away.

  We have all night to enjoy ourselves and our bodies.

  But I don’t want any of that right now.

  I have been teased enough by this man. I want him to take me from behind. I want him to fuck me. I want him to do it so hard that I see stars.

  Nicholas’ hands grasp onto my thighs and fold me over the kitchen island. It’s the perfect height for this exact activity.

  I grab on tightly to the edge, bracing myself for impact. But then I remember that I’m still wearing underwear.

  It’s not really much, just a black thong that can easily be slid to the side.

  Instead of doing that, he tugs at it slightly and watches it fall down to the floor. By the time, I step out of it and press his body to mine, I realize that it wasn’t just my thong that he had removed. We are now flesh to flesh. I can feel his hard dick against me.

  I spread my legs. I lean over. I wait.

  “Get the fuck off her,” a stranger’s low deep voice says.

  35

  When there is an interruption…

  For a second, I think that the voice might belong to Nicholas. But it’s raspier, older than his. When I turn back, I see a man in all black. Black long sleeve shirt, black pants, black combat boots, black gloves, and a black ski mask.

  He’s pointing a gun with a long barrel right at Nicholas’ head. My throat closes up. Nicholas takes a step away from me.

  On instinct, I pull down my skirt but Nicholas doesn’t make a move to get dressed. His pants are still at his ankles and he just stands there, motionless. His shoulders spread wide, his arms at his sides.

  It takes significant effort to pull my eyes away from the weapon. But after a moment, I focus on him instead. The guy with his finger on the trigger.

  Who are you? I wonder.

  I can’t make out a single distinguishing characteristic except for his height, which is way over six feet. I don’t even know what race he is because the slits in the mask are too small to distinguish the skin color.