by K. A. Linde
“Great. So, at least we know you’re not an expert in sneaking around any more than my husband,” I bit back at him.
He flinched. “It’s not like that.”
“Really? Feels exactly the same, oddly enough.”
“Anna…”
“Don’t,” I growled. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it? Why lie? Fuck, why did you even go in the first place?”
He removed his fedora and ran a hand back through his hair, mussing the ’60s style. “I just wanted to know the truth.”
“From a con artist?” I asked with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You thought someone who literally lied about who she was and stole millions from banks across the world was going to give you a straight answer?”
“I hadn’t seen her since the arrest. I just… wanted to know why.”
I shook my head in frustration. “You want to know why? Why? Are you serious? Because you were an easy mark. That’s why.”
Court winced. He clearly didn’t like that I’d reduced his entire year-and-a-half relationship down to this. But that was the truth. He should have been able to handle it by now.
“She did it because she’s a con artist. She did it because she needed social proof. I’m not even a fucking con artist, Court, and I could tell you that Josh gave me social proof in Hollywood. I could see instantly how Jane, who was lying about her life, would need it. And she got it from you!”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?” I demanded. “None of this explains why you lied.”
“What did you want me to say, English? I needed to go see my ex-girlfriend to get closure? That I was nearly certain none of it had meant anything to her, but I wanted to know for sure. And guess what. I was right. None of it meant anything to her.”
My heart throbbed for him. The pain that must have caused.
But it didn’t excuse going to see her five days before the election. It didn’t excuse hiding it. It didn’t excuse anything.
“That must have been hard to hear. But you could have told me that. I told you when Josh showed up in my apartment. I turned my husband away, who I had been with for five years, and the first thing I did was come to see you.”
“I know but…”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The manic laugh that erupted out of my chest. “I don’t want your buts. I don’t want your Upper East Side Court Kensington bullshit explanation for why you should get out of this. I once said that I’m not sorry for being the only person holding you accountable for your actions. That doesn’t stop today.” I swallowed back my own pain at the words. And the heartbreak in them. “You could have told me. You chose not to. And worse than all of that, Court, you just ruined everything.”
“Come on, it won’t be that bad,” he said optimistically.
“I spent the last six months making you the golden boy of the Upper East Side. I did everything in my power to distance you from Jane and the person you had been before, who gave her money. Now, five days before the election, you decided to go see Jane in prison. What the fuck do you think the headlines say?”
He didn’t answer. His face had gone pale.
“Collusion. That you’re helping her defense. That you were in on it all along. That you got away with it because of who your mother is.” I shook with anger. “Your mother’s reelection is in five days. Jane’s trial is in a month. This could not be worse timing.”
“Okay, I fucked up,” he said finally. “I just had to see her.”
“Do you still love her?” I asked, forcing the words past my teeth.
I didn’t want to know the answer. In some ways, it was unfair of me to ask. I still had feelings for Josh despite his bullshit. It would take time for them to go away. But we’d been married. We’d had a life together.
And suddenly, I was seeing the truth. How he’d been more worried about her well-being when she hadn’t taken the plea deal. He’d been stressed that she didn’t have the right representation. He’d wanted to help. The way he’d reacted when I suggested that he’d cheated on Jane. It was the only time I’d seen him so pissed off. He’d thrown me out because of it. And then the other day… I’d jokingly asked if he’d ever wanted to marry someone. He’d come back with one name—Jane.
I took a step back.
My stomach twisted.
He still loved her.
Was that… was that possible?
“Does it matter, English?” he begged me. “She’s in jail. She’s not going anywhere. And whatever we had wasn’t even real.”
“It was real to you,” I whispered.
Fuck, I’d fucked up.
My trust was so fragile. It always had been. Ever since my dad had cheated on my mom and married someone else without a backward glance. Ever since my mother had been more interested in oxycontin than raising her child. The world wasn’t kind, and it wasn’t fair. I’d been used and abused and cheated on. I’d felt my heart be torn out of my chest and smashed into pieces. And somehow—somehow—I’d deluded myself into thinking that Court Kensington, of all people, wouldn’t do the same.
“English, this is real to me,” he said. “You and me.”
I took another step backward. “I can’t do this.”
“What? No. We can fix this. That’s… that’s what you do. You fix things.”
“I don’t know how to fix this, Court. Not the campaign or the pictures or us.”
“Please don’t say that. It was one stupid mistake,” he begged.
“Yeah,” I whispered, “that’s what Josh said, too.”
“I am not Josh.”
“And yet, I can’t trust you either.” I swallowed hard, hating the words coming out of my mouth. “I’m just going to go.”
I turned and headed back to where I’d left my clutch with Katherine’s and Whitley’s bags. Court followed close behind me.
“English, you can’t do this. You can’t just leave. We should talk.”
“I’m done talking, Court. If we keep talking, I’ll say something else I regret,” I snapped back at him.
“At least let me drive you home.”
I stood up with my phone, prepared to pull up Uber. “No, I’ll take an Uber.”
He sighed heavily. “English… Anna…”
“Jesus,” I muttered when my phone lit up.
“What?”
I had nineteen missed calls, twice as many texts, and five voice mails. I clicked the call list—fifteen calls from Taylor, three from Lark, and one from an unknown number.
“Oh god,” I said, my stomach dropping to the floor.
I’d thought Taylor was just being her normal teenage self. I hadn’t thought that she really needed to talk.
I clicked to the voice mails and listened to the first from Taylor.
“Anna, please pick up your phone. I keep calling, and you won’t answer. Bea is in trouble. She owes this guy five grand, and I have no fucking clue where we’re going to get the money. I hate asking you for it, but can you spot it for me? I’ll pay you back. I swear. Just call me back.”
The line ended.
And the voice mail said, “Next message.”
Taylor was crying. No, sobbing. “I haven’t heard from you. I don’t know what’s going on. Bea wants me to go with her to talk to the guy. She thinks we can work out a deal or something. I’d rather just give him the money. Please, please, please, Anna. I’d never ask if it wasn’t important.”
“Oh god,” I whispered as fear hit me fresh.
“Next message.”
“I still haven’t heard from you. I’m trying one last time. I texted you the address just in case. Meet me there with the money if you get it in time. I’m so sorry for how I acted before. You were right. You were so right.”
The line ended.
“Next message.”
And Lark’s voice came through the line. “English, pick up your phone. There’re images of Court…”
I ended the message before I could hear the rest. I didn’t care about that
right now.
My stomach flip-flopped as I moved on to the final message.
“Anna English, this is Officer Peake with the New York Police Department. You were the last call from the phone of one Taylor English. She was shot twice in a drug-related fight in lower Manhattan. Please call us back at this number as soon as you get this.”
My heart stopped at those words.
I didn’t breathe.
“Taylor’s been shot,” I whispered in horror.
Part V
And They All Come Tumbling Down
33
English
I stood outside of Bellevue Hospital Center. I’d ditched my wings at the club, and Court’s jacket covered my lingerie-clad body. It wasn’t enough, but it’d have to be for now. There was no way I was going to go home to change. Not with Taylor in critical condition.
Those were Officer Peake’s words. Critical condition. Shot once in the thigh. The other barely grazed her hip.
I’d run out of Club Marquee as fast as my Jimmy Choos allowed. I hadn’t even cared that Court had followed me. I couldn’t think about our argument or the implications of the pictures or what would happen to the campaign. Not after Taylor.
We skidded inside, getting strange and stranger looks from the people around us, including the hospital staff. We weren’t the only ones dressed up. I just… probably looked like a hooker.
“I just received a call. My sister was shot and brought to this hospital. Her name is Taylor English.”
The woman checked her computer. “Yes, I see her here. She’s been moved into surgery.”
“Surgery?” I gasped. “What for?”
“The bullet went into her thigh and hit an artery. She’s lost a lot of blood. The doctors and support staff are working diligently right now. I can move you into the waiting area, and then when the doctor has any information, he can come directly to you.”
I felt sick. This couldn’t be happening.
Court stepped forward. “That would be great. Thank you.”
The woman nodded with a sad smile. She pushed a button that buzzed us through to the back and then directed us to a separate, much more secluded space. “A doctor will be out to speak with you as soon as they can.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The waiting area was practically deserted. There was a woman alone in the back corner, but otherwise, it was just me and Court. I sank into a seat at the front. My feet were anxiously tap, tap, tapping away. All the adrenaline that had coursed through my body when I got that phone call was still hyping up my system.
Court plopped down next to me. “It’s going to be okay.”
I held my hand up. “Don’t talk to me.”
He sighed. “Okay.”
“And you don’t know if she’ll be okay. We don’t know anything.”
“Yes, but…”
I glared at him. “Don’t.”
He fell silent.
We both did.
All I could do was stare at the doors and wait. I tried to call my dad. Tonight was the only time that I was thankful for the three-hour time difference. Because even though it was already one in the morning here, it was only ten at night in LA. He answered right away, begged for more news, any news, and promised that he and Ashley would be out on the first flight that they could get.
“My dad and stepmom are coming,” I said and sat back down.
“Good,” he said softly.
And then we returned to silence.
And waiting.
And feeling like I was going to vomit.
I didn’t know how long we’d been sitting there. It could have been minutes or hours or days. It felt endless.
But then a doctor appeared. Court and I both stood. The woman in the corner stood, too. We all waited, breathless, hoping it was us and not the other. Feeling bad that we even thought it.
“Anna English?” the doctor asked.
“That’s me,” I said, rushing forward with relief.
“Your sister has just finished surgery. We were able to repair the damage to her femoral artery, but she lost a lot of blood. We had to give her a transfusion. She’s currently stable.”
“Oh, thank god,” I gasped out. My legs buckled underneath me, and I fought to stay upright.
“Her friend is still in surgery though,” he said softly.
“Her friend,” I said stupidly, not comprehending. Then, it hit me. “Bea?”
“Yes. Taylor was wheeled in with Beatrice Reynolds. We’ve reached out to her family, but we’ve had no luck so far. If you know how to reach them, it would be really helpful.”
I blinked. “I don’t. They’re college friends. We’re in LA. I think Bea… uh, Beatrice is from Boston.”
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Well, I thought we’d ask.”
“Is Bea going to be okay?”
The doctor frowned. There was a no on his face. Written all over his expression. A terrifying look that said everything he didn’t. “She’s still in surgery. We’ll know more in the next couple of hours.”
I nodded mutely, terrified. It could have been Taylor. The words ran like a mantra through my mind.
“Can I see my sister now?”
“Yes. She’s resting, but you can go in to be with her.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, choking on the words.
A nurse came and brought Court and me to Taylor’s room. I stepped inside first to find my beautiful little sister hooked up to an IV. She was dressed in a nightgown and looked as pale as death. The covers were pulled up to her chest, but it couldn’t disguise the state of her left leg. It looked huge and bulbous under the covers, as if it had been wrapped around and around and around until it looked like the game Hot Potato and I was meant to unwrap it to find candy.
My feet carried me farther into the room. I sank into the seat next to Taylor and gently took her hand into mine. I didn’t know what to do or what to say or how long she’d be asleep.
Court stood nearby, just inside the room, as if he didn’t know whether to be in or out. As if he were guarding the door. But I didn’t care. I didn’t want to think about him, not now. I just wanted to be here with Taylor.
It wasn’t until an hour later when Lark first appeared that I realized Court must have made some calls. She rushed into the room. Her red hair was curly and frazzled. Her eyes were smudged with purple half-moons under them, and she looked worried.
“English,” she said, coming to my side and pulling me into a hug. “Oh my goodness, I don’t even know what to say. How is she doing? How are you doing? Has she woken up?”
I shook my head. “No, she’s still asleep. The nurses say that she’s sedated for the pain. They don’t think she’ll be up for a couple hours. Her friend just went into another surgery. I don’t know what’s happening with her.”
Lark squeezed me tighter. “It’s okay. You don’t have to know everything.” Then, she drew back. “I brought you clothes. Court said you were still in your Halloween costume.”
I glanced down at myself. The red lingerie and Court’s oversize ’60s suit coat. I hadn’t even realized.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the clothes.
I entered the small bathroom and changed out of the costume and heels. Lark had brought me a pair of yoga pants, a black T-shirt, and a sweatshirt along with socks and sneakers. I realized half-consciously that this was all stuff I’d left at Court’s. I’d never given anyone a key to my new place. It felt like an oversight now.
“Feel more human?” Lark asked when I stepped out of the bathroom.
“Sure,” I said with a shrug.
“Do you want to talk? I didn’t know if…”
“No,” I said quickly. “Not really.”
“Court seems… upset.”
“You saw the pictures.”
Lark nodded. “I did.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just… I just want him to go. Can you tell him to go?”
Lark bit her l
ip. “If that’s what you want. But I think you should talk to him.”
“No. I already talked to him. I just want to be here for my sister.”
“I don’t know if he’s going to leave you here alone.”
“Please,” I whispered. “Please, Lark. I can’t do it tonight.” I helplessly stared down at Taylor. “She was shot. Her friend might not make it through the night. I can’t deal with Court Kensington, too.”
“Okay,” Lark said softly, rubbing my back. “It’s okay. I can ask Court to leave. Or at least to stay out of your way.”
“Thank you.” I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Of course.”
Lark disappeared then, leaving me alone with Taylor once more. I couldn’t hear what she said to Court. I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to be alone.
Early the next morning, Taylor woke up. Groggy and clearly in a lot of pain. A nurse bustled in. He checked her vitals and pain levels, gave her some more painkillers, and then headed back the way he’d come.
“Anna?” Taylor said, blinking a few times. “How long was I out?”
“Most of the night.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” I chewed on my fingernail. A habit I’d given up in college. “I got all your messages and voice mails. Just a little too late.”
“I’m sorry,” she immediately blurted out. “I should have come to you as soon as I found out how much money Bea owed that guy. It just all…” She shuddered.
“Hey, it’s okay. Whatever happened, happened. You’re going to be okay. Your leg will take a while to heal, but the doctor said that you should make a full recovery.”
“And Bea?” Taylor asked, her voice thick with emotion.
I swallowed. “I don’t know much. They won’t say anything until her parents arrive. I know she was in and out of surgery last night. They’re still working on her.”
“Jesus,” Taylor said. She slammed her eyes shut. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Taylor frowned and then shook her head.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell the police. They called me last night. That’s how I knew where you’d been taken. I think they’re going to want to file a report.”