When Rivals Lose

by Beck, J. L.

  “My brothers and I believe that you’re in danger here. I want to help you, will you please let me help you?”

  “I… I don’t know who you are…” I stutter.

  The man smiles coyly, “Sullivan Bishop, and we have a past. Some I wish you could remember and some I hope you never do.”

  Puzzled, I ask, “What does that mean?”

  Sighing, he says, “Nothing, right now. I didn’t come here for my own wants. I came here because I’m worried about you. You almost died, Harlow.” His voice cracks at the end, showing the raw emotion he’s feeling.

  “I’m not in danger,” I answer without hesitation. “I was in a car accident.”

  “You don’t understand,” Sullivan growls, pressing a clenched fist to his lips. “What do you remember? Anything?”

  I shake my head, growing more and more confused. The air becomes heated between us, and all I can feel, and smell in the confined space is him. It’s annoying and comforting all at once.

  “Harlow, sweetie, how does the dress fit? Let me see it.” My mother’s voice filters through the closed door. Before I can open my mouth, Sullivan presses a finger to my lips.

  Panic fills every crevice on Sullivan’s face, and he grabs me gently by the shoulders, leaning into me, his hot breath caressing my ear, “She can’t know I’m here,” he whispers so only I can hear him. I nod, letting him know I understand. He releases his hold on me and takes a small step back. He’s trusting me and deep down I know I cannot let him down.

  “It didn’t fit. I’m about to come out,” I call through the closed door. Only then do I realize that I had taken my shirt off and have been standing here with nothing but my bra and jeans on the entire time. Heat creeps up my chest and into my cheeks and Sullivan crouches down picking up the shirt which I dropped when he stormed in here. He hands it to me, and I take it from him mouthing a thank you, before slipping back into it.

  He didn’t even look at my chest, just my eyes and face.

  “Awe, I really wanted to see you in it. Doesn’t matter, you’ve got plenty of dresses at home. We need to go if we’re going to be home when Matt and his father get there.”

  “Coming, just a second…” I answer. Sullivan’s gaze turns murderous, but he doesn’t say anything else. I want to ask him what she said that angers him so much, but I don’t. I watch as he presses himself all the way to the wall so I can open the door without him being seen. I grab the dress, which never left the hanger and step out of the dressing room like nothing ever happened.

  “You okay?” Mom asks, looking up from her cell phone, her eyes roaming over my face, “You look a little flustered.”

  “Uhh,” I clear my throat, “I’m fine, just ready to go home is all.”

  She stares at me as if she’s trying to determine if I’m telling the truth or not, and I start to sweat, my gut tightening, twisting and turning.

  “Okay, let’s have lunch, then we can go home and freshen up.”

  “Great.” I plaster a smile on my face, and we head out of the store, but with each step I take, I can’t help but wonder, who is Sullivan Bishop, and why does he think I’m in danger, especially in the presence of my own family?

  I try to forget about him and the whole conversation in the dressing room, but I can’t. By the time we get home, my head is about to explode from trying to figure out what he was talking about.

  “I’m going to go hang up these new dresses,” my mother says, heading up the stairs.

  “Mom?” I call after her, making her stop to look back at me, smiling. “Who is Sullivan Bishop?”

  As if I’ve brought up a terrible memory, her face falls, and her eyebrows pull together. “Where did you hear that name?”

  Oh shit, I didn’t think about that.

  “I-I… remembered it,” I lie.

  “Just the name?” Mom questions nervously.

  “Yeah, do I know that person? Who is he?”

  “Oh gosh, Harlow. Sullivan is a terrible person, he terrorized you all through high school. Bullied you and turned all your friends against you. Shelby, bless her heart, was the only one who stuck by you.” Well, that explains why I have no other friends, I guess.

  “His parents are no better. They’ve been trying to ruin our business for years. Those are not the kind of memories I wanted you to remember, honey. Sullivan Bishop is someone you want to stay away from, as far away as possible. He is a master manipulator, and for whatever sick reason he’s always hated you and has tried everything in his power to hurt you.”

  Hated me? I don’t know why those words hurt so much, but there is a distinct ache in my chest. Why would he hate me? Why would anyone hate me?

  “Harlow, if he ever comes near you, I want you to tell us, okay?” she says, but it almost sounds like a warning.

  “Do you hear me, Harlow?”

  Blinking from the trance, I say, “Yes, of course.” Though it’s a lie. Sullivan Bishop already approached me, and for some strange reason, I get the feeling that there is more than just hate between us.

  2

  After looking through my closet for what seemed to be the better part of the afternoon, I’ve managed to find a yellow sundress, and I’ve paired it with a some wedged sandals, that look like they’ve never been worn. Once dressed, I look at myself in the mirror. I feel as if I’m wearing a mask, hiding behind these clothes, and make-up.

  This isn’t you, Harlow, whoever you are.

  The dinging of the doorbell, though faint, meets my ears. Matt and his father must be here. I apply a small amount of lip balm before I turn and walk out of my room. I wonder what Matt is like. Have we known each other since we were kids? My father never really explained to me how our relationship had come about, and it seems that whenever I ask questions, I get nothing in return, no answers, just more confusion.

  If I didn’t know any better I would think that my parents were hiding something, but that’s the thing, everything seems as if it’s a secret, hidden beneath a veil, that’s what it feels like when you can’t even remember what your favorite color is, or your favorite food.

  Exhaling as I descend the stairs, each step I take toward the dining room, making me more, and more nervous about this dinner. I know this Matt, whom I’m supposed to marry, even less than I know my own parents, and I hardly know them at all.

  This couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Ever since I woke up in the hospital, I feel like I’m in a constant state of being uncomfortable. Not knowing things I should, always feeling behind and left out of every conversation.

  All I have to go on are the things my parents tell me, and it’s clear they’re only telling me what they want me to know. Which leads me to wonder...what if that guy, Sullivan, from earlier was right? What if I don’t belong here, what if I was never happy here? And if I wasn’t happy here, where was I happy? Was I happy at all? I need more answers.

  The questions swirling in my head start to cause a throbbing behind my eyes that has me dizzy by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs.

  “Harlow,” my mother calls for me as she enters the foyer, a shocked look in her eyes as if she’s surprised to see that I actually came down on my own, or I dressed up. It could be either one, I suppose.

  “You… you look beautiful, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you in a dress.” Her eyes brim with joy, an infectious smile cresting her lips.

  “Thank you.” I smile back at her, it slips a little when she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the dining room.

  “Matt’s father, Richard, is a close friend of the family. You and Matt basically grew up together. He is only two years older than you. We used to spend the summers together in the Hamptons.” I can hear the sadness overtaking her voice as she speaks. “Anyway, Matt will be the perfect gentleman, and he knows that you’re still working through your memories, so he promised to give you space and lots of patience.”

  I almost snort, he promised to give me space and patience? She talks as if he’s my owner, as if what
he says goes? We’re not married, and in my eyes, we aren’t even engaged until I remember the engagement. I cannot be with a man that I don’t even know or remember. He needs to wait until I do, or he has to make me fall in love with him again.

  Three deep voices filter through the walls, they’re chatting over a football game or some type of sport, I don’t really care. It ceases as soon as we enter the room. Like a trained dog, Matt gets up and walks over to me, and for the first time, I look up into a pair of deep brown eyes that belong to the man I’m supposed to be madly in love with. So, why don’t I feel anything? I felt a connection to Sullivan, and we’re supposed to hate each other.

  “Hi, Harlow. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to see you in the hospital, and when you returned home,” he smiles, and though he has a sweet smile with perfectly straight white teeth peeking out past his pink parted lips, nothing about him seems friendly, or kind. Yes, he’s handsome with an angular jaw, and perfectly sculpted cheeks, and he’s tall with hair you could run your fingers through, but nothing about him appeals to me.

  It feels like I’m looking at the off-brand version of what I would really like.

  “Hi, Matt. I’m sorry I don’t remember you, or our engagement,” I give him a half-hearted smile because honestly, I am sorry. I want to remember probably as much as everyone in this room wants me to.

  “It’s okay, we can always make new memories. Our relationship was mainly long distance. We had agreed to get married when I returned home, but I suppose that’s not happening now.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, startling me.

  For a moment, I forgot that we weren’t alone in the room, until he moves away, pulling out my seat for me. I take the spot directly beside my mother, and let Matt scoot my chair in.

  Dinner passes at a snail’s pace, and while the food is delicious, my appetite is non-existent. When Richard and my father move to his office to discuss business, I plan to part ways and go upstairs to drown myself in a book. Whoever I was before this, at least had excellent taste in books.

  Pushing from the table, I move to get up when my mother places a hand against my arm, her eyes bleeding into mine.

  “Why don’t you and Matt take a little walk around the mansion?”

  “Uhh…” I flounder, my eyes darting to Matt who seems to perk up at the suggestion. “Sure, though I have no idea where anything is… I’ll probably just get us lost.”

  “I’ve been here enough times for both of us,” Matt says, moving toward me. My mother smiles obviously pleased with herself. So much for escaping this dress and shoes for my PJs, bed, and a good book. Looks like I’m taking a walk around the house that I don’t remember with a man that I don’t know. Sounds like the start of a serial killer movie.

  Matt takes my clammy hand into his and guides us out of the dining room, tugging me toward a pair of French doors off the kitchen, which lead outside. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I wonder apprehensively if I should allow him to hold my hand or if I should pull away. I certainly don’t feel like holding his hand.

  Before I realize it, we’ve reached the garden, a massive water fountain is in the center, and for a moment, I’m mesmerized, caught in a trance over the profound beauty before me.

  Matt releases my hand, the loss of contact startling me.

  “I was hoping by showing up here tonight I would get laid.”

  Holy shit, this guy didn’t just say that? I must have misheard him, right? My mouth pops open, and I cross my arms over my chest, flames of angry fire flickering in my belly. I want to slap him, kick him in the balls, and shout at him, but I don’t.

  “Okay, I take it that’s a no,” he says, chuckling and for the first time, I see him smile, really smile. He sighs and sinks down onto one of the marble benches that overlooks the garden. I watch as he taps on the bench beside him, obviously signaling for me to come sit with him, but the last thing I want to do is sit next to him now.

  Actually, I can think of a couple hundred other things I would rather do.

  Frustrated about my lack of movement, he growls, “Jesus, Harlow, it was a joke. I know your memories are gone, but I didn’t think your sense of humor was too.”

  “Didn’t sound like a joke,” I sneer.

  He rolls his eyes and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “Whatever, your sense of humor obviously sucks, by the way.”

  “Maybe you just aren’t good at telling jokes,” I tilt my head to the side, watching as he lights up the end of his cigarette, a bright cherry appearing at the end. Sucking in a deep breath of nicotine, he holds the air inside his lungs for a moment before releasing it, a pillar of smoke snaking out of his nose and into the chilly night air.

  “Did you miss me?” he asks, his eyes piercing mine before I break the connection and look away.

  “No, I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t remember you.”

  “I can help you remember me…” his voice trails off, “I mean if you want me to.” I know I should be shoving my foot up this guy’s ass by now, but my curiosity outweighs my need to hurt him.

  “Did we ever… you know?” My cheeks start to flame as the question rolls off my tongue.

  “Fuck?” Matt hisses into the air, “No, you never let me inside those cotton panties of yours.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke, before rubbing the end against the bottom of his shoe. His insult doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s clear to me that I was a good girl before all of this happened, or at least somewhat of one if I held onto my v-card.

  “Why the hell are we engaged then?”

  Matt smiles again, and I swear the brown in his eyes grows darker, “’Cause it makes sense. It will be good for both of our families and good for business. So, let’s just get it over with. You did agree to marry me at one point, that’s the truth, and I think we still should, we don’t have to be in love for this to work. We don’t have to hate each other either. This could be a mutual benefit for both of us, so let’s just be adults here and do what’s best for everybody.”

  I’m left speechless by his admission. That’s a lot to take in, and I need a minute to actually grasp onto everything he just said. Even though his confession hurt, in a way, it was also honest, and after feeling like my parents have been hiding stuff from me, I do appreciate that honesty. Still, hearing that I agreed to marry for reasons other than love makes my chest ache.

  Was I really that kind of person?

  “How would it benefit us to get married?” I ask after gathering my thoughts.

  Matt shrugs, “Mostly because our fathers do a lot of business together, and they are planning on merging their companies after our marriage. It would show the board members that this would still be a family business, which your father has always claimed it to be. Also, my father wants me to take over the company in a few years, and I might have a bit of a wild side. Hookers and partying all night. It’s kind of a turn off for some of the investors, getting married and settling down, would ease their minds.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, we’re getting married for show, to boost our families images?”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. I mean, I do like you… you’re really pretty,” he says, his eyes briefly scanning my body.

  “Ah… thanks.” I guess he said that to compliment me, but it feels more like an insult. Are my looks all he likes about me? Is that what he bases my character on?

  “We could have a good life together, and I would take care of you. I mean, I’m an asshole, but I protect what’s mine.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember you, or anyone for that matter. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”

  Matt nods as if he understands, “I see that this is something you need to think about. If you could do me a small favor and not tell your parents that I told you the truth about us, I would appreciate it. They asked me to tell you we were in love and all that shit. Just a precaution in case we do get married. I don’t want to piss off the in-laws right off the bat.�
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  “I won’t tell them, and thanks for being honest with me. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem, here is my number. Call me if you want to talk more.” He hands me a business card. I take it and hold on to it tightly like it’s a lifeline. I feel like I might need his honesty in the future.

  Turning around to leave, something dawns on me, I have one more question burning in the back of my mind, and I want only an honest answer.

  “Can I ask you something else and you be honest with me?”

  Matt stares at me, his face blank, “Ask away, sweetheart.”

  “Do you know Sullivan Bishop?”

  At the mention of the name, Matt’s face scrunches up like he just caught a whiff of something nasty. He leans forward on the bench, staring up at me, “I know the Bishops alright, and so do you, well, did. Your family and the Bishops’ have been enemies since forever, for as long as I can remember. It’s funny you ask that actually because you and Sullivan have history.”

  My eyes widen, and I wonder for a moment if that’s why I felt so connected to him. As if Matt can see the wheels inside my head spinning, he continues, “Not that kind of history. I think you would much rather kill each other than screw. You two have hated each other since you were kids, and senior year you planted drugs in his pocket at a party. Got him arrested and kicked out of school. They did an article in the paper about it, plastered the Bishop family name everywhere. Sullivan lost his scholarship to play ball, but their family lost much more than that. They’ve since disappeared from town.”

  “I… I destroyed someone’s life?” I blink, not even sure I believe what he’s saying. Why would I do something like that? What caused me to hate this family so much?

  “You act so surprised?” Matt’s brow furrows with confusion, “I know you don’t remember stuff, but I’m sure you can still tell who you are inside, right? Plus, it’s not like they didn’t deserve it. Your father has reasons for doing the things that he does.”