by Jenna Jacob
Resentment and frustration flared. Every cell in my body wanted to start hotel room annihilation part deux. But I feared if Ross had to return, he wouldn’t offer to help me clean up; he’d likely knock me out with one punch and leave my bitch ass on the floor.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, I stood and strolled to the sitting room. After grabbing a fresh bottle of whiskey from the bar, I sat down and started opening the rest of the fucking envelopes.
I was nearing the bottom of the pile when I discovered a contract. Skimming the documents, I noted it was between Mia and Zattman and, blessedly, unsigned.
“Bingo.”
I took a long pull of whiskey from the bottle to steel myself. And as the burn slid past my chest and landed in my stomach, I clenched my jaw and shook out the photos.
Unlike Caris, Mia wasn’t tied to a bed but cowering in a closet. She was naked, bruised, and blood was dripping from her busted lips. Her eyes were glazed over and unfocused. The needle marks on her arms made my skin crawl. The next photo showed the prick shoving the needle into her arm as Mia’s eyes rolled to the back of her head.
Like a living, breathing entity, the memories I’d buried in concrete twenty-two years ago started to rise up from their grave. With a bitter cry of anguish, I pushed them down and sealed them off tight. Then with trembling hands, I shoved Mia’s photos back into the envelope and set it aside.
Launching off the couch, I scrubbed a hand through my hair as I paced. There was no way in hell I could let Ozzy see those pictures. He’d lose his ever-loving mind. We couldn’t afford to let his shit or mine fuck up the restart of our tour.
Easing onto the couch again, I wrapped my fist around the bottle, took another pull, then gritted my teeth before tearing the next envelope open.
Photos of Caris spilled out on my lap. Her dark eyes were wide with horror and pain as the tip of a knife lay embedded in her side. Blood leaked from the wound and stained the sheet beneath her. The next one showed Zattman putting out a cigar on Caris’s smooth, soft flesh. But the one after, where his teeth were sunk into the flesh of her breast and the sick fuck was smiling at the camera, caused my heart to sputter.
The air in my lungs turned to sand.
A gutted growl exploded from deep inside.
I didn’t try to stop the tears from sliding down my face as I leapt to my feet and began pacing wildly.
Caris should never have left. She was in no condition to be out there, somewhere, trying to find her way home, alone.
“Find her way home,” I muttered as I came to an abrupt stop.
How the hell was she going to get back home? Sure, she’d taken plenty of money to get there, but how? She didn’t have a shred of ID. She couldn’t book a flight or rent a car or…
A spike of panic hammered through me.
“Oh, if she’s fucking hitchhiking, I’ll beat her ass red.”
After scooping up Caris’s soul-crushing photos, I shoved them away and set the envelope with Mia’s. Then I raced to my room and stripped off my clothes. After I grabbed a clean shirt from my drawer, I darted into the closet to find the T-shirt Mia lent her on the floor. Taking a quick inventory of my clothes, I discovered the long-sleeved Henley and my favorite leather jacket were gone.
“I’m going to spank her ass doubly red,” I groused as I snagged a pair of jeans and tugged them on. Then I hurried to the bathroom where we’d shared those cock-hardening kisses.
There was no sign of Mia’s sweatpants or tennis shoes.
“At least I know what you’re wearing now, angel.”
If she was indeed hitchhiking, she’d now be easy to spot, providing she hadn’t yet caught a ride. I didn’t have the patience to try and go through the mental gymnastics of what I would do if I couldn’t find her. I was going to find her, dammit!
Grabbing my wallet and key card, I sprinted from my room only to be forced to cool my heels at the elevator.
“Come on. Come on,” I impatiently growled, drumming my fist on the door.
From behind me, a door snicked. I spun to see Ozzy wearing a pair of shorts and gaping at me with a puzzled expression.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s three in the morning. Where the fuck are you going?”
“To find Caris.”
“What do you mean find her? Where did she go?”
“Home. Or rather she’s trying to get home. I have to find her.”
“Slow down, man.” Ozzy raised his hands. “Did you find the photos?”
“What?”
“Mia’s photos…did you find them?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are they? Give them to me.”
“In my room, and no. You don’t need to see that shit.”
“I want—”
“I don’t have time for this shit now,” I said, cutting him off. “I’ve got to find Caris.”
Ozzy’s expression softened as my tone of desperation echoed through the hall. He stepped in close, gripped my shoulder, and softly murmured, “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, man.”
Chapter 6
Caris
The night I’d left LA and Syd, I’d lucked out and caught a shuttle to Las Vegas. But after three days on two different busses traveling halfway across the country, I was climbing on board yet another, this time in Springfield, Missouri, bound for Berryville, Arkansas. I would still be fifty miles from home, but it was the closest route to Diamond City the company offered.
I was dirty, hungry, and exhausted from mourning the loss of Syd again. While the other passengers slept, I buried my face in his leather jacket, inhaled his scent, and softly sobbed. I’d second-guessed my decision to leave him more times than I could count, but in the end, common sense—not my shattered heart or the memory of his rugged naked body pressed to mine, kissing me dizzy and making me hot all over—won out.
Oh, I’d tried to twist and turn a dozen different scenarios to run back to him. But the inevitable always reared its ugly head. If I had stayed with Syd, I would have destroyed his career, possibly even broken up the band. Sure, we could be happy for a while, but eventually Syd would grow to despise me, hate me for stealing his dream.
Tears stung my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. I had to stop mourning the loss of what could never have been, accept my life for what it was, and keep putting one foot in front of the other. I hoped that once I was finally home and back to my normal routine, I wouldn’t feel so weak and pathetic.
Or maybe I’m just blowing smoke up my ass.
I focused on my little house by the lake. On taking a long, hot shower and crashing on my soft, comfy bed. I wanted to sleep for a week but didn’t have that luxury. I had to get up early tomorrow morning and check in with Trudy. Hopefully I still had a job. Then I planned to bitch-slap Monica for taking my stuff and leaving me stranded in LA.
But first I had to figure out a way to get from Berryville to Diamond City.
When the bus turned into the parking lot of a mini-mart, I was still scrolling through anyone who’d be willing to pick me up. I didn’t have a bestie or any close friends, only regular customers I’d shoot the shit with when I served their food.
Before the driver called, “Berryville,” over his shoulder, I was out of my seat, zipping up Syd’s jacket and heading toward the door. The sun was ebbing toward the horizon, and as I stepped off the bus the blustery wind stole my breath.
Tucking my chin, I hurried into the mini-mart, and strolled straight to the bathroom. After taking care of business, I washed my hands and cringed at the ugly rainbow of colors the bruises had painted over my face. Since Monica and I never rented a car in LA, I’d have to come up with a different story to explain my injuries. But first, I had to find a phone.
And call who?
I still wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t walk home.
As I turned to leave the restroom, the door swung open and Betty Warner—retired sixth-grade teacher from Diamond City Elementary and
a regular at Café Trudy—stepped inside.
“Betty!” I gasped. “Oh, my god. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Caris? Oh, honey, where on earth have you been? And…you poor thing, what happened to you?” A pained expression lined the old woman’s face as she stared at my face and clasped my hands, squeezing them tightly.
“It’s a long story, but I’m fine. I just want to get home.”
“I can’t believe you’re standing here. When Monica came back and said you’d disappeared from a nightclub in Los Angeles, I nearly lost my mind. Her and I, heck, the whole town has been worried sick and praying for you, honey.”
I knew she was exaggerating—there were plenty of people who still thought me nothing but thieving trash—but her kind words touched me.
“Thank you. Your prayers have worked. Well, almost. There’s still several miles between here and home.” When Betty simply smiled and nodded, I knew my veiled hint went right over her gray head. I was going to have to swallow my pride and ask, point-blank. “What are you doing in Berryville?”
“Herb and I just finished meeting with our attorney over at the Shelton law office. We needed to update our wills and such. Herb wanted to top off the gas tank, and I figured I’d use the restroom before we headed home.”
“So, you’re headed back to Diamond City?”
“Yes, just as soon as I tinkle.” She grinned and released my hand.
Do it. Ask, for fuck’s sake!
“Do you think… I mean, I-I hate to trouble you, but do you think I could catch a ride with you and Herb?”
“Well, of course, honey. It’s no trouble, but…don’t you have a car?”
I shook my head. “It’s parked in the barn at my place.”
“Well…how did you get here?”
“I-I’ve spent the last three days on a bus.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Betty tsked. “You wait right here. As soon as I tinkle, Herb and I will drive you home.”
The rush of relief slamming through me nearly made my knees buckle. “Thank you, Betty. Thank you so much.”
“No need to thank me,” she said with a wave of her hand. Pausing in the doorway of the stall, she arched her brows. “You can tell us all about what happened to you and how you got all those nasty bruises in that big, scary city.”
Shit.
While Betty tinkled, I racked my brain to come up with a plausible story. I couldn’t tell her, or anyone, that Syd had helped me escape. He might be a rock god to the rest of the world, but his reputation as a no-good, dirty hoodlum still thrived in Diamond City. Thankfully, he’d been gone so long, no one in town recognized Syd Wilson.
They would if they ever saw me with him.
And I certainly couldn’t mention Zattman. When Mia finally took the bastard down, it’d be the hottest story in the world. I hadn’t spent the last fifteen-plus years trying to redeem my reputation to blow it by being associated with the crazy prick.
Some customers would shower me with sympathy, which I didn’t want. Others would whisper I’d earned a well-deserved lesson from Karma. I didn’t want that, either.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the backseat of Herb and Betty’s antique Delta 88, cruising toward home. I made sure to keep the bandages on my wrists covered and prayed the story I was weaving from thin air wasn’t chock full of holes.
“While Monica was out on the dance floor, I made my way through the crowded bar, to hit the ladies’ room. After I took care of business, I opened the door to go back to our table when this mountain of a man stepped from the shadows. He covered my mouth with his fat hand and grabbed me around the waist.”
“Oh, dear,” Betty gasped. “Did he say anything?”
“No. He just pulled me up against his big body and dragged me out a back door. I tried to fight him. I was kicking and screaming, but of course, with his hand over my mouth, no one heard me.”
Herb eyed me in the rearview mirror. “You said the bar was crowded. Why didn’t anyone try to stop him?”
Great. The old fart is already suspicious. I should have given more thought to this stupid story.
Swallowing down the ball of guilt in my throat, I shook my head. “The main bar area was packed, but the hallway to the restrooms was totally deserted.”
“Let the girl tell her story, Herb,” Betty chided before glancing back at me with an eager nod. “Go on, honey.”
“After he dragged me outside, he hauled me down a long, dark alley. Then he shoved me up against this brick wall and ripped my purse off my shoulder. I tried to grab it back, but he just laughed at me. I begged him not to take my purse. I even told him that I’d give him all my money if he’d just leave me my purse. I didn’t want to lose my phone. My boarding pass for my flight home was on it.”
That part wasn’t a lie. It was probably good to sprinkle in at least one truth.
While Betty hung on my every word, I branded each one to memory. No doubt, I’d be quizzed and questioned in the days to come. I knew the second the old couple dropped me off, Betty would be chomping at the bit to get home so she could call her cronies in the Ladies Auxiliary, who’d phone their friends, and so on and so on. By morning, the whole town would know all the details of my ordeal.
The gossip grapevine of a small town put the internet to shame.
“Oh, Caris. He didn’t try to…?” Betty covered her mouth with a liver-spotted hand.
“Molest me? No. Thank goodness. He told me he was taking my money, anyway. Then he hit me so hard, right here”—I pointed to the angry bruise on my cheek—“that I saw stars. He landed another blow under my chin that knocked me out cold.”
“Oh, that nasty brute,” Betty tsked. “What happened next?”
“When I woke up, I was in the emergency room of a hospital. They told me a policeman who’d been doing his nightly patrol found me in the alley next to a dumpster. He called an ambulance and they took me to the ER.”
“And you were out that whole time?” Herb didn’t bother trying to hide his disbelief.
“Yep. The doctor said I had a bad concussion, so they kept me under observation for three days.”
“You’re going to be paying those hefty hospital bills for decades, young lady,” Herb scoffed.
“No. I told them I didn’t have insurance. They kept me, anyway.”
“And that’s the trouble with our health-care system,” Herb bit out before spewing a tirade about the high price of health care, our piss-poor economy, and a rant about electronics taking over the planet.
More than happy to crawl out from under the microscope, I nodded in agreement as the old man prattled on. Every time Betty tried to calm him or change the subject, Herb told her to hush and kept right on going.
He was still verbally ripping both sides of the political arena to shreds when we pulled into Diamond City. While our little tourist town was but a spec on the map, it was home to me. The peace and serenity I’d yearned for since waking up tied to Zattman’s bed finally started wending through me.
When Herb pulled into my narrow gravel driveway and stopped in front of my tiny rental, I nearly wept with joy. Instead, I thanked them profusely and promised to treat them to dinner at Café Trudy—provided I still had a job.
As they pulled away, I retrieved my extra house key from the fake rock beside the porch and unlocked the door. As I stepped inside, the familiar scent of apple spice candles and the sight of my things sent relief slamming through me like a wrecking ball.
Finally, inside my safe haven, a powerful sob tore from my throat as I closed and locked the door. After striding to the sofa, I curled up on the thick padded cushions, clutched the plush blanket to my face, and purged all the emotions I’d tried so hard to keep locked inside the past five days.
I cried for the helplessness and victimization I’d endured from Zattman’s abuse.
Purged my anger over Monica’s desertion.
And wailed from the soul-stripping agony of losing Syd all over again.
> Banding my arms around me, I could almost feel him holding me. Almost taste the passion of his kiss. Almost hear his deep, rich laughter echo in my ears. Almost see that sexy crooked smile spread across his talented lips.
“Stop!” I screamed at my masochistic psyche before dissolving in a howl of grief.
I didn’t remember how many hours I spent wallowing in weakness. All I knew was that my heart was still breaking long after my tears dried.
Numbly pushing myself off the couch, I trudged to my bedroom and stripped off my clothes. After removing all the bandages, I climbed into a steaming-hot shower and tried not to remember the last one that I had taken. The one I’d shared in the posh LA hotel suite with Syd. But memories were too strong, too fresh. And as I replayed every second of splendor I’d shared with Syd, I could feel pieces of my heart being peeled away to swirl down the drain.
When I woke the next morning, sunlight was streaming through the pale peach curtains in my room. All I wanted to do was pull the covers over my head and stay there forever. But self-pity wasn’t in my vocabulary, and replaying my time with Syd in LA was fruitless, hopeless, and a waste of time. While he and the guys were traveling the country, bringing joy to millions of screaming fans, I had to reclaim and find comfort in my simple, ordinary life.
Determined to reestablish my normal routine, I rolled out of bed, pulled on my robe, and padded to the kitchen. As I reached for the coffee carafe, the sunlight pouring in from window above the sink acted like a spotlight against the jagged red scab on my wrist. I’d have to wear a sweater to hide those marks when I went to see Trudy. I hoped that once I repeated my fictitious story, she’d take pity on me—Pity. Grrrr—and either let me go back to work immediately or rehire me.
What if she doesn’t?
I had six hundred dollars left from the thousand I’d borrowed from Syd’s wallet. If I combined that with the four hundred I’d managed to put away in savings, I could survive the next few months until the tourists returned. Diamond City was a vacation paradise for fishing and family vacations. Cleaning toilets, changing sheets, and vacuuming wasn’t a job I particularly wanted, but if push came to shove, I could find work as a maid at one of the dozen hotels and lodges lining the lake…if the owners were willing to hire a former juvenile delinquent.
