Shiver

by Suzanne Wright

  As we dug into our meal, Sarah leaned in and whispered, “You guys going to the basement tonight?”

  “Depends how long this goes on for,” I whispered back. “I went last night.”

  “And?”

  “A movie theater.”

  She grinned. “We went Thursday night.”

  “And?”

  “A spa. I was a rather slutty masseuse who took advantage of a willing client. And we made good use of the hot tub.”

  I chuckled, all too able to imagine Sarah playing that part.

  Bastien leaned toward us. “What are you two whispering about?”

  “A spa, a masseuse, and a hot tub,” said Sarah.

  Eyes glimmering with heat, he flashed her a sensual smile. “That so?”

  Feeling a warm, strong hand gently squeeze my thigh, I turned to Blake with a raised brow. “Yes, dear?”

  His mouth twitched. “I think you have an admirer.” He gestured at the little boy sitting directly opposite me.

  It was only then that I noticed he was staring at me curiously. “You okay, Kyle?”

  He nodded. “Why are your eyes different colors?”

  Although he’d seen them before, he was apparently still surprised by them. Smiling, I opened my mouth to answer, but someone beat me to it.

  “You get that trait from your father, don’t you?” asked Tara with a polite interest that was completely false. “Maxwell Buchanan, I mean. Not Michael Bale.”

  Sarah growled quietly, and Bastien put his hand over hers.

  “Why were his eyes that way, though?” asked Kyle, brow furrowed.

  Deciding to just ignore Tara, I shrugged at him. “I don’t know. Weird, huh?”

  Kyle’s lips twisted. “I want mine to be different colors.”

  “Like one red, and one black?” I suggested.

  His eyes sparkled. “Ooh, yeah! It would freak people out.”

  “Oh, like the contact lenses you wore as a teen, Kensey?” Again, Tara was all politeness, but there was a mocking note in her voice.

  Kyle spoke before I could even think to answer her. “My dad has lenses—he doesn’t like wearing glasses.”

  “My lenses made my eyes look different,” I told him. “Scary, even.”

  He leaned closer, fascinated. “Like actors wear in horror movies?”

  “Exactly like that.”

  Sarah elbowed me gently. “You wore them well.”

  I grinned. “I do miss the lizard ones.”

  Sarah chuckled, her expression nostalgic. “They creeped out Mrs. Bannon so bad.”

  “Didn’t the school principal ask you not to wear them?” Emma scooped more mashed potato onto her plate. “My school was super strict—we couldn’t even wear pretty hair ties.”

  I sipped my water. “She did ask me not to, but she didn’t make a fuss when I ignored her.”

  “She liked you,” said Sarah. “Especially since you argued with the nun that was rude to all the teachers.”

  Blake turned to me, brow creased, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You argued with a nun?”

  “Not on purpose.” It really hadn’t been my fault.

  “She asked Kensey in what ways the bible ‘spoke’ to her,” Sarah explained. “Kensey said she didn’t want to answer because it would offend her, but Sister Margaret promised she wouldn’t be upset.”

  “But she got upset?” Adam prodded.

  Cutting into my chicken, I said, “I told her I believed in God but that I didn’t take the bible too literally, because I thought a lot of it could have been lost in translation or might even be metaphorical.” I shrugged. “She told me she’d pray for my doomed soul. That was nice of her.”

  “I heard you got into a lot of fights at school, Kensey,” Tara said ever so casually.

  I ground my teeth, reminding myself that the bitch wasn’t worth my time or attention.

  “How’s your apartment-hunt going, Kenz?” Sarah asked, as if Tara hadn’t spoken. And I understood that she’d raised the subject because it was a fast way to piss Tara off and hopefully shut her butt down.

  It was Blake who answered, hand rubbing my thigh beneath the table. “That’s over.”

  Tara perked up. “You found a place, Kensey? That’s great news.”

  Blake looked at her. “Kensey’s staying with me.”

  Tara’s grip on her fork flexed. “Permanently?”

  At his nod, Emma’s face lit up. “Good. I hated the thought of you all alone up there in that big apartment, Blake. Plus, Kensey makes much better coffee than you—this is good for your visitors, like me.”

  “Never thought I’d ever hear that you were living with someone,” Gage said to me. “It’s good that you’re out of that shithole, sweetness.”

  “Careful,” Blake said to him, voice low but threatening. “Be very, very careful.”

  Gage raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. “Old habits die hard.”

  Adam cleared his throat. “Maybe we could talk about something other than Kensey so she doesn’t develop a complex. Like how awesome I am. That’s always a fun subject.”

  And just like that, the tension was broken.

  Tara didn’t speak to me throughout the rest of the meal, which meant I got to enjoy my dessert in peace. Afterward, we all filed out onto the patio and seated ourselves on the rattan furniture. Blake sank into a chair and pulled me onto his lap.

  There was talking and laughing and sharing funny stories. I didn’t once look at Tara, so I wasn’t sure if she was paying me and Blake any attention or not. But when I was returning from using the downstairs restroom, she was waiting for me in the hall, eyes diamond hard.

  I sighed. “You really want to do this here, on Adam’s birthday?”

  “Blake said he told you about Liza Montgomery.”

  Apparently, she did want to do it here. “Just when I thought my opinion of you couldn’t get any lower…”

  “He had no right to—”

  “You don’t want a fourth musketeer. I get it. I don’t plan to push my way into this. It’s not my war. I couldn’t possibly be as emotionally invested in it as you, Blake, and Bastien are, so it would be nothing but intrusive of me to insist on being part of it. I understand that it must be uncomfortable for you that a perfect stranger knows all about it. But the bitch has pulled me into this, Tara. Don’t you think I have the right to know exactly what I’m dealing with?”

  She sneered. “I’ll bet he hasn’t told you about B3.”

  “No, he didn’t tell me. He showed me.” That made the sneer slip from her face. “I know everything, Tara. He trusted me with it. And I didn’t walk away. What does all that tell you?”

  Mouth a thin slash, she glared at me, chest heaving.

  “It should tell you that the moves you’ve made and the games you’d played so far were a waste of your time. It should tell you that it was a mistake to hold out for something that surely your gut told you that you’d never have. It should definitely tell you that it’s time to move on.”

  She stepped toward me, arms straight at her sides with her hands balled into fists. “What did you do, give him an ultimatum? Tell him you’d walk away if he didn’t share it all? Nothing else would have made him lay it all out for you. If he didn’t open up to you until forced into a corner, what does that tell you?”

  Tired of this, I asked, “Can’t it be enough for you that he’s happy?”

  She snorted. “Blake will never be happy. He doesn’t want to be. He won’t let go of the guilt that eats at him because he likes to feel the sting of it.”

  No, he felt he deserved to feel it—that wasn’t the same thing. And I wondered if, even on a subconscious level, Blake preferred to embrace the guilt than be overwhelmed by the rage.

  “If you think differently, you don’t know him at all,” Tara added. “I know him inside out.”

  “No, Tara, you don’t. You know the parts of him that he chooses to let you see.” I’d bet she’d never believe there were times
when he’d tickled me until I couldn’t breathe, tossed me in the ocean with a wicked grin, or chased me around his apartment for shoving an ice cube down his shirt. The first time I’d met him, I’d branded him too serious. But he had a playful side; he just didn’t expose it often.

  Really, I had the feeling that this was about more than her wanting Blake. Maybe watching Blake and Bastien enter into relationships and spend less time with her brought back the feelings of abandonment she must have felt when Levi killed himself. Or maybe she worried that by taking such big steps in their lives, Blake and Bastien were moving forward and wouldn’t find the project so important anymore. Maybe it was both.

  I felt a little sorry for her. I knew what it was like to be abandoned. Neither my maternal nor my paternal family had ever wanted anything to do with me. The only blood relative I’d ever had in my life was my mother. Being cast aside and dismissed that way wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Just as I’d made the Armstrongs my family, Tara had made Blake and Bastien her family. She’d grown to want more from Blake, but if she’d truly thought she had a chance with him she’d have made a move by now.

  “Have you ever asked yourself if the reason you cling to the idea of having Blake—something you know won’t happen—is that you don’t want to be happy, Tara? Or maybe you feel like you don’t deserve to be happy. Maybe you’d feel guilty to have the things in life that Levi will never have. Is that because you think you should have known what he’d do?”

  Her spine snapped straight. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “Whether I’m right or wrong doesn’t change that by clinging to a fantasy, all you’re doing is making yourself miserable. Let him go. Move on. Give someone else a chance to make you happy, because Blake is never going to be that person.”

  “You’re sure of that?” She lifted her chin, an ugly twist to her mouth. “I could have had him any time. I know how his mind works. Know how to play him to get what I want.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “Because that would have made me as bad as Liza.”

  Well, at least she had some morals.

  “I told you once before, Kensey, you won’t last long. The women in his life never do. It’s enough for me that I know he’d choose our friendship over you if I asked.”

  I gave her a look that questioned her intelligence. If she really believed that, she was one Brady short of a bunch—possibly more than one.

  “You don’t think he would? He, Bastien, and I have been through a lot together; the kind of pain that bonds people together in a powerful, irreparable way. You can’t match that, Kensey. You can’t even begin to comprehend it. And you definitely can’t outshine it. Besides, ending our friendship would mean abandoning the project. It’s my baby, you see. Blake will never abandon it so, yes, he’d choose our friendship over you.”

  “Maybe so, but that’s all you’d be getting Tara—friendship. Nothing more. And if you’d rather see him alone than happy with someone else, you’re not really a friend to him.” And that pissed me off, because he deserved better.

  “I don’t want to see him alone. I just don’t want to see him with you. Look at what you come from. A mother who had an affair with a married man when she was just seventeen and later went on to marry a serial killer. Your real father refused to acknowledge your existence, and your stepfather killed thirty-two women.”

  I gave a slow nod. “Yes, this is true. And?” It confused me that people recited this stuff to insult me. They were basic facts that I’d been aware of for quite some time.

  “He can do better.”

  “For a friend, he can do better than you, Tara. I remember him once telling you to get your fucking head straight. Shame you didn’t. Now, why don’t you just go dance on your pole again? At least you’re good for that.”

  I tried to shrug past her, but I only made it one step before a hand seized my upper arm, sharp nails digging painfully into my skin.

  In a quick, smooth move, I placed my palm on the outside of her elbow, seized her wrist, planted my leg in front of hers, and tripped her. She hit the floor hard with a grunt. Still holding her wrist, I squatted, twisted her arm behind her back, and pinned her on her stomach by digging my knee in her back.

  “Let go of me!” she cried out.

  “Picking a fight on your friend’s birthday with your other friend’s girlfriend—and doing it in a house where there’s a child present … Damn, Tara, you’ve not only reached rock bottom, you’ve started to dig.”

  “I could have told you that would happen, Tara,” said another voice.

  My head snapped up. Gage was leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, watching. I wondered how long he’d been there and just how much he’d heard. Returning my attention to the woman beneath me, I said, “I’m going to let you up, Tara. If you come at me again, you’ll find yourself back on the hardwood floor—and it’ll hurt a lot more the second time around, I’ll make sure of that. Got it?”

  “Yes,” she bit out, pained.

  “What the …?”

  Again, my head snapped up. And there was Blake, Sarah, and Bastien shouldering past Gage. Wonderful.

  Slowly, I released Tara and stood. Ignoring the hand Bastien offered her, Tara rose to her feet, rubbing her arm.

  “What happened?” Blake asked me.

  “Tara wanted some self-defense tips. Isn’t that right, Tara?”

  She glanced at the others, looking ashamed, but I wasn’t buying it. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed that Sarah was smirking like the cat that got the cream.

  “Kensey, what was all that about?” Blake persisted.

  “She’s upset that you told me what happened,” I explained.

  “And she wants you,” Gage told him. “And she believes you’d choose your friendship with her over your relationship with Kensey. Not liking that Kensey dismissed her, Tara got a little physical, which didn’t end well for her.”

  Apparently, then, Gage had overheard quite a bit.

  Tara shot him a look that screamed ‘traitor.’ “It wasn’t like that. We were talking. The conversation got heated, and I said some things I regret. I apologize, Kensey.”

  At that moment, Emma and Adam appeared. Obviously sensing the tension, Emma asked, “Something wrong?”

  Tara gave the couple a forced smile. “Thanks for a lovely evening. It was great having everyone together like this. We don’t do it often enough. And happy birthday once more, Adam.” She turned to Gage. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

  “Then call a cab,” he told her. “Food was great, Emma, thanks for having me. It was nice meeting you all. Take care, Kensey.”

  Just as Gage went to pass her, Tara grabbed his arm. “What do you mean, call a cab?”

  He put his face close to hers. “I don’t like being used. Next time you feel like playing games, don’t drag me into it. Make sure I don’t see your ass for a while. I do wish Kensey had kicked it.”

  As a matter of fact, so did I. Oh, well.

  Once the door had closed behind Gage, Emma raised her hands. “Okay, someone needs to explain what just went down.”

  I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching Blake stalk toward Tara. To her credit, she jutted out her chin, refusing to cower.

  Blake glared at her, eyes cold and flinty. “I told you when you had your little tantrum on the phone earlier that you’d better not start shit with Kensey. Isn’t that what I said?”

  Tara averted her gaze. “I wasn’t trying to start something. Like I said, the conversation got heated—”

  “It was a conversation that shouldn’t have occurred. I told you to leave her the fuck alone.”

  Tara sucked in her cheeks. “I just don’t like that she gave you an ultimatum. It wasn’t fair.”

  His brows snapped together. “Who says she gave me an ultimatum?”

  “It’s the only way you would have told her everything,” she insisted. “If you were going to expose yourself so completely, it shoul
d have been to someone who’s special to you, and it should have been done when you were ready. If she cared about you, she wouldn’t have backed you into a corner. After all you’ve been through, you didn’t deserve that. Don’t you see that you subconsciously chose someone who doesn’t suit you so that there was no chance of you being happy? You don’t want to be happy, Blake. You prefer misery and guilt.”

  “No, Tara, that’s you. You’ve been the star of your own Hollywood drama for years. You’ve sabotaged every chance of happiness you’ve had since Levi died. You’ve thrown yourself so fully into your project to escape having a life because you just can’t deal with feeling any joy in it. If you want to do that, fine, that’s your choice. But it won’t ever be mine.”

  “Or mine,” Bastien cut in, his expression downcast. “It’s sad to see it, Tara, but you’re your own worst enemy. I’ve spent years trying to make you pull your head out of your ass, but I’ve come to realize that you like it exactly where it is. There’s no helping you.”

  Her lips flattened. “Funny how neither of you had a problem with me until these two came along,” she clipped, flicking a brief look at me and Sarah. “They’ve poisoned your minds against me because they know how close the three of us are and they see me as a threat.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, Tara, we really don’t.”

  “You did the damage all on your own,” I told her. “And for what? So that you could have them to yourself? Their being in a relationship doesn’t mean you’re losing them. They can still be a friend to you. That won’t change unless you make it change. And asking them to choose between you and people they love will be a surefire way to do it.”

  Tara did a slow blink. And then she laughed. It was a slow laugh that built in volume and intensity. “You think Blake loves you? Oh, that’s priceless.”

  “It’s the truth,” Blake stated.

  Her face fell, and her posture crumpled. She looked up at Blake through wide, disbelieving eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

  Emma stepped forward. “Don’t make them choose, Tara. Please don’t put them in that position. You’ll always regret it if you do.”

  Tara backed up with a hand to her throat. “Excuse me. I have to go.” She hurried out of the house, and I let out a breath. I didn’t like the bitch, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, even though I still wanting to punch her right in the tit.