by K. Street
Just then, her stomach growls. Loudly. I can’t hide my satisfied smirk. She picks up her fork and takes a bite of the blueberry crepe.
“There. Happy?” She wipes her mouth. “You said there were red flags. What sort of red flags?”
“I discovered he’d been withdrawing money weekly from the company account. Always in small increments, a few thousand here and there. It would’ve gone unnoticed, given the monthly revenue S&S brings. I decided to go over the profit margins, and I knew something wasn’t right, so I started digging.” I take another bite and watch Tessa’s face as the news sinks in.
“Do you know how long it was going on?” she finally asks.
“Around a year.”
“Why did it take so long to notice?” Tessa asks the same question I’ve been repeatedly asking myself.
“Trevor was smart and obviously good at hiding things.”
“He sure was,” she mutters.
Neither one of us says much as we finish our meal.
Tessa seems withdrawn when we get up to leave. I hated to ask her, and I didn’t want to upset her, but I had to know. After I pay the bill, we head out to the car.
“Do you mind if we run by the store? There’s no food in the house.”
“Okay,” she says. “If you turn right, there’s a Publix a few miles down the road.”
Tessa stares out the window as we drive through town. It doesn’t take long to pick up what I need, and we’re in and out of the store in no time.
As we pull out of the parking lot, I look over to find Tessa with her eyes glued out the window again.
“Tess, you okay?”
“No, not really,” she says without looking at me.
“Anything I can do?”
Out of my periphery, I see her face me.
“Not unless you can bring your brother back to life, so I can kill him.”
“I get it. Believe me, I do. But you don’t really mean that.”
“Oh, I do. You can’t possibly know how much.” Her tone is icy and full of conviction. Her voice drops lower, her gaze returning to the window. “I hate him.” The words sound more sad than angry.
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything as I pull into the driveway.
“Why are we at the Millers’?” She looks from me to the house and then back at me.
“I’m renting their place while I’m in Charleston. According to the real estate agent, they’re off, seeing the country. Driving Route 66 or some shit. I’m just going to run the groceries inside.”
“Wait. So, that means, you’re five houses down from my parents’?” she asks incredulously.
“I guess. Do you want to come in for a minute?”
“No. Thanks for breakfast, but I’m going to walk home.” She opens her door and gets out of the car.
nineteen
Tessa
The hits just keep coming. I honestly don’t know how I’m still standing. As if the news of Trevor’s whore and bastard child wasn’t enough of a punch to the gut, I find out he was also stealing from his own company. Everything I thought I knew is a lie. An intricately woven web of deception.
I came home to Charleston to get away from it all because I needed time and space to regroup. And, in a matter of weeks, Dante has appeared out of nowhere. He and Trevor might not look anything alike, but his presence is a constant reminder of everything I’m trying to forget. He makes me feel things I don’t want to feel. Each passing day, before my heart has had a chance to scab over, I’m ripped wide open all over again.
Grief. Anger. Sadness. Shock. Hate. I’m so tired. So tired of all the fucking feelings. I just want one night where I don’t have to feel anything. Where every breath isn’t excruciating. One night to forget.
I dress, put on some makeup, and straighten my hair into sleek perfection. After I grab my keys and phone, I toss them in my purse and walk out of my room.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, my mom turns her attention from the television to me. “Honey, you look lovely. Where are you off to?”
“Just out for a drive,” I lie through my teeth. I’m a grown woman lying to her mother because, if she knew where I was going, there would be a conversation. She’d push me to talk, and right now, I can’t deal with it.
“You’re all dressed up for just a drive?” She suspiciously eyes me.
The woman is still too smart for her own good. I couldn’t get away with shit when I was little. My mama is a sweetheart, but she’s also a hard ass, and she can see through me from a mile away.
Daddy looks up from his place next to Mama on the couch and gives me a wink. Then, he says to her, “Mags, stop with the inquisition.”
His arm rests over the back of the sofa, and she sits, curled against him. She’s addicted to crime shows, but she’s too scared to watch them alone, so he indulges her.
“I know, I know. Just be careful.”
I can tell by the look on her face, she doesn’t believe the lie.
“I will.” It’s not a promise I’m sure I intend to keep.
I open the door, and just as I’m about to walk out, my dad says, “Baby bear, you still have that pepper spray? And what about your house key?”
Despite the heaviness weighing me down, I stifle a laugh. So much for me being grown. “Yes, Daddy.”
That’s the truth. The pepper spray is attached to my keychain. When you live and work in a city like Chicago, you take precautions.
“Love you,” they both say in unison.
“Love you both. Don’t wait up,” I call out and close the door behind me.
It takes about fifteen minutes to drive to Joe’s Tavern. I park the car and walk inside. Country music blares from the jukebox, and the green billiard cloth covering each of the trio of pool tables looks like it’s seen better days. Wooden stools, backless and round, line the bar, and deep brown paneling covers the bottom half of the walls.
I make my way through the crowd, snagging an empty stool at the end of the bar. I catch the eye of the bartender. He holds up a finger, signaling he’ll be right over.
“What can I get you?” he asks, voice smooth and gravelly. He places a napkin in front of me.
“Jameson, double, on the rocks,” I order without hesitation.
“Coming right up.” His smile shows off his dimples. He’s certainly easy on the eyes.
I watch him make my drink, and when he sets it on the napkin, I reach into my purse and hand over my credit card. “Open a tab for me, and keep them coming.”
“You got it, sweetheart.” He winks and then walks away to attend to another customer.
It isn’t long before I’m five drinks in, and Jameson is my new best friend. I pull my phone out of my purse and slide my finger over the screen. There’s a text from Dante. The man doesn’t understand the meaning of space. It takes me three attempts to type out the text.
Tessa: Leave me alone.
I hit Send, and the little dots start jumping on the screen.
Dante: No.
Ignoring him, I smack my palm on the bar top a few times. “Bartender, I’ll have another.”
He warily eyes me. But I’m on a mission. I still remember, and I’m drinking to forget.
“Here you go, and it’s Cole.” He sets my drink down.
Holding my glass up in a cheers gesture, I say, “Thanks, Cole,” taking significant effort not to slur the words and throw back half of it. Then, I turn my attention back to my phone.
When I look up, Cole is wiping the bar down beside me.
“You forgot my straws.”
“Straws?”
“Yes. You know, the little black ones?” I don’t know why I need to explain this to him.
He passes them to me, not bothering to hide an eye roll.
I stick them in my glass. “Men are assholes. You know that, Cole?”
I decide then and there that other men might be assholes, but Cole is a douche canoe. A woman on a mission to get drunk needs those tiny black
straws. I’m not sure why, but they seem to get the job done faster.
My phone chimes with another text.
I start to type out a smart-ass response, but the letters are floating above the screen. My phone rings in my hand, scaring the shit out of me, and I drop it on the bar.
“Oops.” I pick it up, and instead of declining the call, I accidentally accept it.
“Sup, Dante?”
“Tessa, you okay?” Dante sounds weird.
“Couldn’t be better,” I singsong.
“Are you drunk?”
I hold my hand out in front of me, using my thumb and pointer finger to measure. “Maybe a little.”
“Fuck.”
I hear movement through the phone line.
“Where are you?”
“I need some space, so I’m out, getting some.”
“Where the fuck are you?”
“I’m here. Where are you?” I snicker.
“Tessa.”
Dante sounds like he doesn’t think I’m funny. He’s wrong. I’m hilarious. I don’t understand what the hell everyone’s problem is tonight.
“Dante,” I say in a mocking tone, “don’t get your testicles in a twist.”
I hear him breathe heavily into the phone.
“Just tell me where you are.”
“Dante, listen.” I hold my phone out, so he can hear Sam Hunt. “It’s my jam. I’m going to dance.”
“Tessa, wait.”
“Why are you yelling at me?”
“I’m not. Just tell me where you are.”
“I already told you.” Maybe. “I’m at Joe’s Tavern. Pay attention.”
“All right. I’m on my way. Don’t leave, okay?”
“Don’t leave. Got it.”
On wobbly legs, I slide off the stool and drop my phone into my purse. It takes an extreme amount of focus to zip the damn thing and slip it over my head. The room spins as I make my way to the dance floor. In a sea of people, with Jameson in my blood and Sam Hunt blaring through the speakers…I finally start to forget.
twenty
Dante
When I get to Joe’s Tavern, it’s crowded, and it takes me a minute to spot Tessa on the dance floor. Some asshole is dancing way too close to her, and I head over.
A smile spreads across her face when her eyes land on me.
“Dante”—she throws her arms around me—“you’re here.”
She slightly pulls back, and I can tell the beer goggles have drowned out the disdain she normally reserves for me.
Tessa’s hands move to cup my cheeks, her fingertips scratching my beard. I slip my arms around her waist. For a split second, everything fades. It’s just us. Right here, right now…I’m holding everything I’ve ever wanted in my arms.
“Hey, man, the lady is with me,” the asshole says, breaking the spell and bringing me back to the moment at hand.
The motherfucker has nerve; I’ll give him that.
One hand remains on Tessa as I slide her body behind me, putting myself between her and the asshole. I straighten, pinning him in place with a glare. “What the fuck did you say?”
He looks away. Fucking coward.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t realize. She’s all yours.” He takes a few steps backward and then disappears into the crowd.
I turn around to Tessa. Flushed cheeks, pouty lips, and smelling like she’s downed a bottle of whiskey and then some.
She leans into me. “Mmm, you smell good.”
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” I say, wrapping an arm around her.
“One smore drink,” she slurs, poking a finger into my chest. “Comes meet Cole. He’s my newww friend.”
Shit. Her tab is probably still open.
“Okay.” I hold her steady as we make our way to the bar but not for the reason she thinks.
“Coooole.” Tessa’s scream slurs over the bar.
The bartender comes to the end of the bar where we’re standing.
“You Cole?”
“Yeah, man.” He glances to Tessa, who’s completely hammered.
Motherfucker must be blind if he can’t see it.
“Is her tab still open?”
“Yep.”
“Well, close it.”
When he walks away, I reach into my back pocket, take out my wallet, and withdraw a business card and a hundred-dollar bill.
“Dante. So sleepy,” Tessa says, swaying beside me.
I slip my wallet back into my pocket and tighten my grip on her. “It’s okay. You can go to sleep in a few minutes.”
I hold her closer, and she leans her head on my shoulder.
I eye Cole as he shoves the receipt into a shot glass and sets it on the bar top in front of me.
“Here you go.”
I scribble Tessa’s signature on the receipt and slip her credit card into my pocket.
“Cole”—I hold out the money and my business card—“next time you see her in here, call me. And, for fuck’s sake, cut her off before she’s completely shit-faced.”
He takes the offering from my hand and says, “You got it.”
Asshole.
With effort, I weave us through the people and manage to get us out the door.
Once we’re in the parking lot, I look at Tessa. “You doin’ okay?”
“I’m drunk,” she says with a pout.
It takes some maneuvering, but I get her settled into the passenger seat. Aside from the day of Trevor’s funeral, I’ve never seen her this drunk. Sure, she’s been tipsy, but this is something else altogether.
After we get to my place, I call Bill and let him know Tessa’s safe.
She’s like a rag doll as I set her on the end of my bed. I lay her back, so she won’t fall over, but her feet still touch the floor. I rummage through my drawers, grabbing a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.
“I don’t feel good,” Tessa groans, trying to sit up.
I toss the clothes aside and rush over. “Shit.” I lift her back into my arms and carry her into the bathroom.
I set her down a few steps from the toilet.
She sways. “I’m gonna be—”
The sound of vomit cuts off her words.
I move fast to get her over the bowl. I keep an arm around her waist for support and use my other hand to hold her hair back while she retches. When she’s too weak to help me support her weight, I settle us onto the bathroom floor. She props her elbow on the rim of the porcelain and rests her cheek against it. I sit behind her, her body between my legs, and rub circles on her back.
“I’m sorry,” she says weakly.
“Shh.” I lift her torso and lean her against my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll clean it up.”
“Not ju-just that. For ev-everything.”
“Tessa, you have nothing to be sorry for.” And she doesn’t.
“One night. I just wanted one night to for-forget.” She hiccups.
The pain in her voice slices straight through my heart.
“I know.” I place my chin on the top of her head.
“W-we were su-supposed to have a b-baby.” Her breath catches, and I know she’s crying. “B-but he had a baby with so-someone else.” She wipes her snot on her sleeve. “He’s d-dead. Time’s up.” She’s quiet for a minute before she speaks again, “I hate h-him.”
“I know, Tess. I know.” I wish I could take away her pain. Borrow a wand from that fucking wizard kid and erase everything.
Her body tenses, and she lurches forward, throwing up again, christening my jeans this time. I fist her hair while she retches so hard, tears stream down her face.
“Oh God,” she moans, propping her head in her hands.
“I’m going to get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back.” Carefully, I move from behind her and stand to my feet.
After I strip out of my clothes and throw on a pair of basketball shorts, I grab the clothes I tossed aside earlier for Tessa and go back into the bathroom to find her in the same position I left her in.
I drop the clothes on the countertop and then kneel next to her. The pad of my thumb sweeps the hair from her face.
“Everything k-keeps sp-spinning.”
“Anything I can do?”
“K-kill me,” she whines.
Tomorrow, she’s going to have one hell of a hangover.
I stand, move to the tub, and turn on the water. When it’s warm enough, I plug the drain and then squirt some of my body wash into the water; it’s the best I can do.
While the tub fills, I turn my attention back to Tessa. Reaching around her, I lift her to her feet and slowly rotate her around to face me. “Good?”
She wavers, and her head falls to my chest. I guess that answers my question. Despite my efforts, she has puke in her hair, and it’s splattered on her shirt.
“Tessa, I’m going to help you undress.” My hands move to the hem of her shirt.
She lifts her head and scrunches her nose. “There’s p-puke in my hair.”
“I know. Hold on to the counter. I need to turn the water off.” I step to the tub and then go back to help Tessa. “Lift your arms,” I instruct, bunching her shirt in my hands.
Slowly, she raises her arms above her head.
I lift it off, revealing her perfect tits covered by a pink lace bra. And, just like that, all the oxygen gets sucked from the room. I swallow hard. My fingers slide over her back to unclasp her bra. The material is soft, and it takes effort to set it aside without sniffing it.
“Do you think you can handle taking your jeans off? I’m going to go grab you some water.” My dick is hard. I need to put some space between us.
“’Kay.”
She takes a step back, nearly falling on her ass, and I reach out to catch her.
Fuck. I need to get her in the tub before she ends up needing stitches.
“Here.” I place her hands on my shoulders and then kneel in front of her. “I’m going to help you.” Unbuttoning her jeans, I slip my hands inside the waistband and slide the denim down her legs. Then, I tap her ankle. “Lift your foot.”
Her grip tightens on my shoulders as she balances herself. She lifts one foot and then the other, allowing me to free her. When I rise, her lace-covered pussy is right in front of me. I want so badly to shred the scrap of fabric and glide my tongue inside for a taste. She smells so fucking sweet.
