I can only hope they are, and there isn’t a BDSM party in the living room. I tiptoe down the stairs, finding the living room to be quiet, which I’m grateful for after the surprises I’ve endured this week.
I reach the door unscathed and open the door, finding Noah in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, holding a long-stemmed rose. “Will you go to the movies with—what the hell is going on in your kitchen?”
I’m scared to turn around. I didn’t think to look in the kitchen before answering the door. I jinxed myself.
I slowly turn on my heels, finding the most disturbing scene I never want to see again.
This time I really mean it when I say that was the final straw.
Chapter 18
After the culinary delight brought to us by Kricket and the “innocent” Tristan last night, I wasn’t quite in the mood to catch a movie, even with Noah’s nice gesture of offering to join me. Instead, we left the sexually violent scene and walked back to his villa, where we sat quietly for a good hour. I think we’re both a little scarred from last night.
When I got the courage to go home, the house was thankfully, once again quiet, except for my fingers tapping against my phone. I sent Bradley a very sweet, but direct message.
* * *
Me: Bradley Spencer, get your ass back to the villa immediately, or I will burn it down before I leave.
* * *
He didn’t respond, of course, but it was late at night. Now, it’s nine in the morning, and there is no excuse, especially since I’m doing my best to reach him via a phone call. His number keeps going right to voicemail.
I agreed to roommates. I realize this, but if I were to have gone onto one of those roommate matching websites, I would have specified that I’m not okay with walking in on kink parties that may or may not involve dildos hanging from the chandelier and vibrators attached to the end of a blender’s beaters. I don’t care how big the bottle of lube is. Just no.
My lady-parts cringe at the thought. It looked like a torture chamber, but what was happening on the kitchen table ... to his ... backside ... I can’t erase what I saw. I can never eat at that table or use a mixer beater again. Ow.
I don’t know how many times I have sat on my bed half-awake in a see-through white shirt and short shorts when the doorbell has rung. There are no quiet hours here, and that should be resolved. I already know neither of the psycho twins will answer. I should just ignore it.
I will ignore it and take my time to get dressed.
The doorbell rings again, followed by beating on the door.
“Jesus, I’m coming!” I scream.
“Yeah, I never said that last night, weird,” I hear Kricket mutter from down the hall.
Oh, gross. I want to plug my fingers into my ears, so I don’t have to hear anything else come from her mouth ... anything, at all.
I keep my sights set on the front door as I move down the stairs. “Right there,” I hear. “No, use that—”
“This?”
Why am I still able to hear things with my ears plugged up?
“No, Tristan, use ... this.”
“That?”
“Use it, now,” Kricket scolds him.
My imagination might be going a little wild, but I hear weird metal screaming noises and again, I’m clenching.
I rush to the door, suddenly preferring the company on the other side versus the shit going on in my house.
Maybe I shouldn’t be completely startled by the sight of Bradley, but I am. He and his radiant bride-to-be stand in front of me, their shadows hovering like demons.
“Oh,” I say. “You came.”
“I’m coming too!” I hear from Kricket’s room.
“What the hell is that?” Bradley asks. “And hi, we need to talk.”
“Ya think?”
“What is that dreadful sound?” Katarina says, her nose turned up as she moves into the villa, walking past me. “Kricket, Krow, are you here?”
The sound of a donkey-man hee-hawing sounds from a bedroom upstairs. The noises are followed by what sounds like a girl screaming. Only, I know it isn’t a girl screaming.
Katarina seems beside herself as she runs up the stairs and barges into Kricket’s room. She falls backward. Miss Perfect, in her four-inch black stilettos and her matching pencil skirt, has fallen on her ass in the hallway.
Bradley jolts after her to help his pretty fiancée off the ground, but when he looks into Kricket’s room, it’s like the winds of whatever is happening in the room blow him back against the hallway wall.
“What is that?” Bradley asks, sounding horrified. “Is that a ... a taser? Why is it up ... there ...”
“Oh my God,” Kricket yells. “Kat, what are you doing here?”
Kat is in shock, O face and all. “What am I looking at?”
“It’s a long story,” Kricket says without missing a beat.
“Can he breathe like that?” Kat asks, taking a step closer to the room. She recoils just before walking inside. “Tristan?”
Oh, how fun, they know each other too. “Hey,” he says, his response muffled by the massive ball-gagger in his mouth.
“You know this is a term for dismissal,” Kat tells him.
Rule: No relationships or relations.
“No, it’s not,” Kricket replies, knowingly. “Little do you know, I went back and read all the fine print Daddy laid out.”
Daddy.
“Whoa, whoa, what does your dad have to do with this?”
Bradley rights his posture and presses his hands against my shoulders, pushing me down the hall toward my bedroom. “This isn’t a good time.”
“Oh, no, no, this is the only time.” I grab Bradley by the collar of his shirt and drag him into my bedroom. “What the hell did you get yourself into?”
“I do love her,” he says. That is not what I just asked him.
I wave my hands in front of my face. “Bradley, snap out of it.”
“What am I supposed to do?” he asks. His confidence is disappearing by the moment.
“Start talking … from the beginning,” I tell him.
Bradley runs his fingers through his … new … hair and takes a seat at the edge of my bed. He kicks my open suitcase that’s sitting on the ground in front of the bed. “You were serious about leaving, huh?”
“Talk, Bradley.”
“Everything is great,” he says.
“Are we on camera?” I mutter, looking around the room for evidence.
He shakes his head to say no but doesn’t answer verbally. “This is a great opportunity for you.” He stands from the bed, spotting my laptop sitting on the writing desk. He sees my notebook and a pen, opens it to a clean page and scribbles words. “This social study truly has nothing to do with you, but you’re an asset—if that makes sense. Plus, you get to live in this beautiful villa and meet some great guys.”
“Who I can’t get involved with,” I remind him.
He waves me off as he continues writing in the notebook. “Right now,” he responds. “When this is all over, who knows what can happen, right?”
He’s scratching his pen against the paper, making lines and bullets. I can’t imagine what he’s writing. “When this is over, I won’t still be standing here, Bradley. There is literally nothing aside from the free rent that is making me want to stay here. Mom and Dad’s one-bedroom condo sounds like heaven right now. Did you see what your future sister-in-law is into? Yeah, I walked into that happening on the kitchen table last night.”
“I know,” he says.
“What? No, how would you know? Tell me.”
“I mean, I assume it’s similar to what we just saw.”
Bradley hands me my notebook to read and points to the words, highlighting the fact that I should take a look at what he wrote.
My eyes focus on the bullet points he made:
•There is an audio recorder listening to everything
•Katarina’s father offered me a large sum of money to
take part in his venture. Katarina’s father is a producer for a line of reality television shows
•Ronald Helga, their father, conducts social studies before filming
•I asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage, and he offered an agreement
•Krow’s marriage and divorce is a result of a failed reality show
•Kricket’s BDSM practices are in the early stages of research for another show
•Every man in this development has the potential for a spinoff. Those who don’t work out will be sent away
•These men are being taken for a similar ride as you
•I’m sorry
•I didn’t read the fine print
I drop the notebook, needing a minute to settle my thoughts. There is one person behind all of this, and he sounds like the type of person I would imagine standing behind all the reality TV shows I watch. Bradley has his hand over his heart, and a look of empathy swims through his eyes.
“I have to go to work,” I tell him. It’s great that he’s sorry, but never in my life would I bring him down with me if I made a massive mistake like the one he’s made.
“Ashley,” he says, pleading with his eyes.
“No, Bradley. You’re my brother … my blood. How could you do this to me?”
“I didn’t think it would turn out like this. I’m truly sorry.”
I push Bradley out of my bedroom so I can get dressed for work, because I need to get out of this house before I say anything else to him, especially since everything I say could be held against me on freaking TV for all I know.
Bradley knocks on the door a few times, calling my name, asking me to open the door. I open the door when I’m in my black shorts and polo, and then brush past him. Bradley has never followed me when we argue. He likes to have the last word, and I usually let him because there is no sense in arguing with him.
Whatever the case used to be, isn’t the same now because he has had the last word and he’s following me. He can follow me all the way to work if he’d like, which he does.
I let the front door of the restaurant close on him just as I spot Noah at the front podium alone. I have noticed that hostess that I saw him hovering over the first few times I was here, is no longer here. I can only wonder why.
“Ashley, did you happen to notice the gentleman trying to walk in behind you?”
“Oh, he’s not a gentleman, so don’t worry,” I tell him.
“Ashley,” Noah says, laughing nervously. “That’s no way to treat our guests.”
“He’s not a guest,” I continue, heading back toward the kitchen.
Now, I have two men on my heels. Fun.
The moment I make contact with the kitchen, there’s a hand on my arm. “Leave me alone, Bradley,” I snap, turning to find Noah.
“What’s going on?” Noah asks. “Is that guy bothering you?”
“Yeah, very much so,” I tell him.
“I’m not bothering her,” Bradley says, forcing his way into the kitchen behind us.
“Whoa, sir, I’m going to need you to step out into the dining area. I’ll be happy to help you in just a moment.”
“No, no, I need to talk to her for a quick minute, please.”
Noah stands in front of me, shielding me from Bradley. I realize I could come right out with the fact that he’s talking to my brother, but I think it’s incredibly sweet of Noah to stand up for me the way he is. Bradley does the idiot thing and reaches around Noah to get closer to me. “Back off man, or I’ll call the police,” Noah says.
“I just want to have a word with my sister.”
“Your sister?” Noah questions.
“Yes, Ashley Spencer is my sister.”
“You’re Bradley Spencer?” Noah continues.
“Yeah, nice to meet you. By the way, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be falling for my sister now, right?”
Noah twists his head around to look at me, probably taking in the look on my face, which is frustration. “You want to talk to him?”
“No,” I tell Noah, “but if it’s the only way to get him to leave calmly, I will.”
“Ash, cut the shit. I’m not going to hurt you or make a scene.”
“I don’t know what you’re capable of after dropping me into this situation as you did.”
“That was kind of shitty, man,” Noah adds in.
“I had no choice,” Bradley continues.
“By the way, I can be attracted to and fall for whoever I want. I’m entitled to my feelings, but thanks for the warning,” Noah says, stepping to the side so Bradley can speak freely to me.
I’m focused on what Noah said though because I knew he found me attractive, but hearing that he’s falling for me, feels different. It feels good.
“Listen to me. I just need to you hang around a little while longer,” Bradley says. “We moved the wedding up, and we’re getting married on July 4th, here. Mom and Dad are flying in, and so are Katarina’s parents. If you can just do me a favor and stay here until then, I will forever be in your debt.”
I feel nothing. I wouldn’t feel bad telling him to go jump in a lake. I wouldn’t feel bad telling him flat-out no. Noah turns around, putting his back to Bradley. “Stay a little longer. I’m not ready to let you go,” he says, running his thumb down the side of my cheek.
Bradley clears his throat. “You don’t care about the prize money, huh?” he asks.
“Yes, he does,” I answer for Noah. “Mind your own business and go back to your fake fiancée. Gee, doesn’t that sound like its own reality TV show.”
“Funny,” Bradley says.
I can only hope I just planted a bug in his head.
Chapter 19
My last words to Bradley must have sunk in because he left the restaurant without another word.
As for me, I’ve been floating on a cloud after watching the way Noah stuck up for me. A man hasn’t done that before, and it made my heart do a little happy dance.
The winks, the not-so-accidental bumps, the whispered jokes in my ear as I’m ringing in a customer’s order, they’ve all made this day far more enjoyable, which is nice after the way my morning started.
With a perma-grin plastered across my face, I glance out to the outdoor dining deck, which has emptied over the past thirty minutes. The lunch rush is over, and things will be quiet from now until the end of my shift at four.
Noah is pacing the deck with his finger pressed against one ear, and the phone held up against his other ear. His face is red, and it makes me wonder who he’s talking to.
It’s none of my business.
I continue replacing the tablecloths in the section I’ve been working in, trying to keep my focus on what I’m doing rather than Noah, but he storms through the restaurant like a gust of howling wind and pounces into the kitchen, letting the door swing back and forth a few times, showing he’s long gone .
I shouldn’t wonder.
It’s not my place to follow him to find out what’s wrong.
We’re just friends.
Although, I suppose a friend could worry too. I do the thing I’m not supposed to do and follow Noah into the kitchen, assuming he went up the side stairwell to his office.
I look for the light in the stairwell hall after I close the door behind me, but as I’m reaching through the dark, running my hand over the wall for the switch, I end up hitting a person.
“Ashley?” Noah’s voice whispers in question.
“Why are you in the dark?” I ask.
I stop looking for the light because it doesn’t seem necessary at this moment. Noah’s arms wrap around my neck, and his head falls to my shoulder. “One of my deployed brothers was just hit by an IED. They’re flying him to Germany right now.”
My heart sinks. My stomach twists into a giant knot. I think about the woman from the carnival and her daughter, her late husband, and the fact that I’ve been living in a bubble most of my life.
“I’m so sorry, Noah,” I whisper, hug
ging him back with all the strength I can muster.
“No, I’m sorry. I should—I need a few minutes,” he says, releasing his arms from my neck. I hear the thud of his heavy steps, but I can’t see anything within the dark confines of this hallway. His door opens, the sun blasts light down the stairwell, and I open the door behind me to finish my shift.
Noah didn’t return to the dining area before my shift was over, so I sent him a short text message, hoping to find out if he’s doing okay. Poor guy.
* * *
Me: I’m thinking about you. If you need anything, call me.
* * *
The moment I walk out of the restaurant, I feel like I need to send Olivia, the widowed mom from the carnival, a message. All these happenings make me think I have a bigger purpose than just watching people's lives fall apart. It’s totally out of nowhere and probably a little weird, but everything I saw in her eyes the other night said she desperately needed a friend. I could be wrong, but in case I’m right, I should be a good person.
I saved her number in my phone, so I pull up a blank message field and stumble through my words to come up with the right thing to say.
* * *
Me: Hey, Olivia, this Ashley Spencer. We met the other night at the carnival. I know this might be weird since we don’t know each other, but I wanted to see how you’re doing today.
* * *
I’m surprised and thrilled when a response pops right up.
* * *
Olivia: Wow. You are the sweetest person I’ve met in a long time. I can’t believe you actually reached out. Thank you, Ashley. This means a lot. I’m okay today. Not great, but okay.
* * *
Keeping an eye on where I’m walking so I avoid face planting into any more street lamps, I type out a response.
* * *
Me: We should have dinner tonight if you’re free?
* * *
I’m being forward, but I jump into the water head first, and it’s not the worst way to live until I end up in situations like the one I’m currently in.
The Bachelor Beach: The Love Connection Series - Villa One Page 14