Wrong Bed, Right Girl

by Rebecca Brooks

  “Could it be nerves about the opening night?” Amanda said, more to Jessie than to Talia.

  “Too much wheatgrass in her diet?” Jessie responded. “Or not enough—I never can tell.”

  “It might be the early-morning light in the living room,” Rose joined in on their game. “We don’t have good curtains.”

  “Guys, I’m sitting right here,” Talia said. “And your curtains are fine.”

  “Then it’s the wheatgrass,” Jessie deadpanned.

  “Next time,” Rose promised. “Wheatgrass mimosas just for you.”

  “Come on!” Talia threw up her hands. “I’m trying to figure out what to do here.”

  “You’re just having a shitty week,” Jessie said, leaning forward.

  “Yeah, I think that’s pretty obvious,” Talia said. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “No, I mean—you’re allowed to have a bad week,” Jessie said. “Without beating yourself up for it.”

  “Try telling that to Hal,” Talia grumbled. “Or the New York Times.”

  “You lost something important to you. It might take more than a few mimosas with your besties to get over it.” Amanda was never affectionate. But she was the one sitting next to Talia, and she dropped her hand in Talia’s and gave it a squeeze.

  Talia swallowed. “It’s not about Reed,” she said. But the words came out quiet, like they’d gotten lost in the hollowness inside her. “It’s me. I can’t do it. And even though Reed didn’t help,” she added when no one else spoke, “it’s not like I can explain that to Hal. Sorry I’m dancing like crap, it’s because this guy I wound up living with told his mom he didn’t want to marry me. Come on. I’d sound like an idiot. It’s Max all over again. If I’m not careful, I’m going to get a reputation in the dance company.”

  She rolled her eyes, trying to make fun of herself. Trying to make it all seem like the same sort of nothing. Talia bad with men. Talia choking on stage again.

  But no one was laughing.

  “Max was a douchecanoe,” Amanda said.

  “Like Reed isn’t? Seriously, you guys. If I slept with him, you know it means he’s an asshole.” Talia tried to say it with a laugh. But it wasn’t funny. Just calling Reed an asshole felt…wrong. Not that he wasn’t, obviously. But then Jessie got up to bring more coffee to the table, carrying the container of almond milk just for Talia, and she felt tears prick her eyes. Hot, stupid, foolish tears she really could do without.

  It was the sort of thing best friends did—took care of one another, knew what they liked, what they wanted. And the sort of thing Reed had done for her, making sure the apartment was stocked, and his mom’s house. Making sure Talia never had to do without.

  Asshole-lite, she decided. But still not right for being her boyfriend.

  “Give yourself a little credit,” Jessie said gently. “Reed didn’t sound like an ass.”

  “You never even met him,” Talia said.

  “I’d also never seen you light up so much when talking about a guy.”

  “Well, that lightbulb’s been smashed, so don’t get too used to it.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jessie squeezed her hand. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  “It’s just that, well—” Rose bit her lip.

  “You can say it,” Talia said. “You’re not going to hurt my feelings any more than that lump of a Bishop guy already has.”

  “When Max screwed you over, you were mad for like a day. Then we all went out—”

  “Got hammered on a Tuesday,” Amanda added with a grimace.

  “Celebrated your newfound freedom perhaps a little too enthusiastically,” Rose amended. “And then you were fine. More than fine, actually. You bounced back like it had never happened.”

  Talia wasn’t sure that was quite true. She’d thought about Max a lot after that. She still thought about him, truth be told. Worrying there was something wrong with her, some demented part of her that always picked guys who didn’t give a shit and then were gone.

  But maybe Rose was right, in some weird way. Because when she thought about Max, it was to regret how wrapped up in him she’d been, how quickly she’d let him take priority over the other things that were important to her. Like dance. Auditions. And her friends.

  She never sat around thinking about how much she missed him—his touch, his scent, the scruff of his jaw. The feel of his hand sliding in hers.

  When she thought about Reed, she could barely care about how she was doing in rehearsals, or the pressure on her for opening night. The ache in her was too great to leave room for anything else.

  “I miss him,” she said quietly, raising the champagne flute to her lips and putting it down without drinking. “I just really, really miss him.” She looked at her friends. “What am I going to do?”

  “I wish I had an answer for you,” Jessie said. “Beyond the fact that it’s okay to be sad.”

  But it wasn’t okay. That was what her friends didn’t understand.

  If she was sad, she couldn’t dance well. But it was more than that, too.

  If she was sad, it was because there was something to feel sad about. Not for an hour, a day, until the next good thing came along to make the bad times ancient history.

  This was a different sadness, a hurt that went all the way to her bones. The sadness of real loss. Of longing. Of missing someone so much that a breakup became a kind of grieving, a mourning that a week and a mimosa couldn’t make a dent in.

  She’d been trying to distance herself from that horrible morning at Reed’s mother’s house, from their fight in the car and her flight to Penn Station. If she could move past it, if she could get herself settled into another life—one where she had a place to live, a role on stage, where there was no reason to miss Reed because she was succeeding on her own—then she’d be absolutely fine.

  But she knew now, looking at the sympathy on her friends’ faces, that fine wasn’t enough. She could do all right on her own. She’d always do all right.

  But she wanted more than that. She wanted to stop crashing with random people. She wanted to glow as Giselle.

  And she also wanted Reed.

  It wasn’t an either-or. It wasn’t a choice she had to make. She wanted both. She wanted everything. She wanted to be greedy with her love. Her heart should have room for every part of her life—and then some.

  “When you left Reed,” Jessie said softly, “did he know you felt this way?”

  Talia blinked at her. She wasn’t sure.

  She’d been upset—he definitely knew that. But beyond the shock of the moment, the heat of her tears, the rush of getting out of his mother’s house, had he known she was going to miss him? Could he guess how deeply she cared?

  “I have to go, you guys,” she said suddenly.

  “You can’t leave besties brunch early,” Amanda said.

  “But you’re coming back to stay here, right?” Rose was immediately concerned.

  “Of course.” Talia gave a wry smile. “I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go. But there’s something I have to do first.”

  “Are you calling Reed?” Jessie’s eyes widened.

  “I can’t,” Talia said. And she meant it. Reed had been clear about what he wanted, and the fact that it wasn’t her. She wouldn’t go groveling at his feet, begging him to feel things he didn’t.

  But her friends were right. She was allowed to have feelings, too. Lots of them. Good ones, bad ones. Ones that made her laugh and ones that made her cry. Sometimes, ones that made her do both at once. Embarrassingly. In public. When she wished she could hide.

  No man could take that away from her. No man could twist her into someone else, someone who smiled blandly and went along with whatever he wanted. Someone who agreed to be his side piece until he found someone he felt serious about.

  Reed didn’t have to like that about her. She wasn’t going to change. But that didn’t mean she had to sit back and be miserable, either.

  She blew kisse
s at everyone, grabbed her purse, and took the elevator downstairs. In the posh lobby of Rose’s apartment, she pulled out her phone. She had Maggie’s contact information saved—they’d exchanged numbers at the party.

  She was already heading out of the lobby when Maggie picked up. “Talia?” she asked, sounding confused.

  “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you at home on a Sunday, but I realized I had your number and I—”

  “Is Reed okay?” Maggie asked immediately.

  “Yeah. Sure. I don’t know. But that’s not why I’m calling.” She took a deep breath. “Listen—is Aaron around?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Reed took another hit from his venti Frappuccino and tried to jolt himself awake with as much sugar and caffeine as he could possibly ingest. Last week had been shit. He could only hope this week wasn’t going to be worse.

  “How long until this is over with?” he asked.

  Aaron checked his watch for the millionth time that hour. “If we’re lucky, it’ll be fast. Get her in, get her out, no problems.”

  Reed’s knee jogged up and down in the back of the van. The Frappuccino was making him jittery. His nerves were all over the place.

  They’d spent months working with Stacey, building up a case piece by piece, making sure every move was carefully executed.

  And now, in what felt like a matter of minutes, they were suddenly going in.

  Did Aaron know what he was doing? For that matter, did Reed? He couldn’t believe how quickly the paperwork had happened. He was in the office, going over the photographs from the crime scene yet again, like maybe if he squinted at them from another angle, maybe if he did a dozen jumping jacks and then stood on his head, he’d be able to see something he’d missed before. If only he could figure out the puzzle, find the way to connect Jonnie West to the murder and bring the case together without relying on Stacey and her testimony.

  The next thing he knew, Aaron was dragging him into an unmarked van and they were driving across the city to a block of row houses in Queens that Reed had never been to before.

  He was supposed to pull rank over his brother, but Aaron kept saying they had to move fast, there was no time to explain. He hadn’t even seen the paperwork yet.

  Now they were cramped in the back of the van with two other technicians, wires everywhere, a woman with neon green hair bent over a pair of headphones, her face pinched into a perpetual frown. Vicky, he thought her name was.

  “Aaron, what’s going on?” Reed said again, but Vicky waved at him to shut his mouth.

  His leg jogged harder. More coffee. Like that was really a good idea right now.

  “We’re in,” Vicky said. She put down the headphones and flipped a switch. Static played through the van. Reed heard muffled sounds. Breathing. Somebody walking. Then a conversation too quiet to make out.

  “Don’t tell me we can’t even use this,” Reed started.

  “Shh,” Vicky said, face intent on the audio.

  “Come on,” Aaron muttered under his breath. “We can’t hear you.”

  “Who’s in there with Jonnie?” Reed asked.

  “Just give it a minute,” Aaron told him.

  “Who’s in there?” Reed demanded again.

  “We got another dancer,” Vicky said. Breezy, offhand. Like it didn’t matter who they’d sent into the lion’s den, as long as they got the results they were looking for. Reed tried to get a name, but Aaron waved at him to shut up. A voice was coming through loud and clear over the wire.

  “Hey, what’s going on, you guys?” Friendly. Calm. Happy as could be.

  Someone who’d been coached on how to talk so the team in the van could hear it. Someone who’d practiced how to be natural, how to be normal, how to sound like she wasn’t in tight with the DEA.

  Someone with just a ruffle of nerves around the edges, the kind of thing most people wouldn’t be able to detect unless they were listening for it.

  Unless they knew her well.

  Reed dropped the Frappuccino. It fell straight out of his hand, like he couldn’t make his muscles work anymore. He thought he’d been frozen before—in moments of fear, moments of panic. Back in the car with Talia, unable to say a thing.

  But this was different. This was the real deal. Everything in him was wound so tight, there was a second of pure, floating nothingness before reality stabbed him and he was roaring so loud that both Aaron and the two technicians were on him to shut the fuck up as his brother grabbed his arm and pulled him down.

  He hadn’t even realized he’d jumped up, ready to tear out of the van and race inside.

  Aaron picked up the coffee cup and passed Reed a handful of napkins. “Just wait,” he said. “Wait and listen. It’s going to be fine.”

  “How could you.” Reed’s voice was a hiss. “How could you put her in there.”

  “She came to me,” Aaron said.

  “I don’t care if the fucking Queen of England called and asked to blow you, you don’t run shit without talking to me first!”

  “It’s been cleared all the way up the chain of command. Did you see how fast we got this wiretap approved? This is the moment, Reed. We have to go for it.”

  “How could you not tell me?” he roared.

  “I didn’t want you getting all emotional and fucking up the chance!” Aaron shot back just as viciously.

  “I’m not getting—”

  “Would you two lay off it,” Vicky shouted over them. “I can’t hear what’s going on in there. If I can’t hear, then I don’t know what’s happening. If I don’t know what’s happening, I can’t give the signal if anything goes wrong with your girl. So sit down, shut the fuck up, and behave.”

  “Not a chance.” Reed was opening the door to the back of the van when his sweet, baby-faced little brother tackled him like he was some kind of perp.

  Reed could have taken him if he wanted to. But the move was such a surprise, he faltered.

  “Wait,” Aaron ordered, yanking him back. “We’ve got a whole team of backup ready to go in if she so much as sneezes. You go in there now, her cover is blown. You know as well as I do that that’s when things get messy.”

  Reed’s knees buckled of their own accord. That was the only thing that could get through to him. Knowing that as bad as it was for Talia to be in there, it’d be even worse for her if he was in there, too.

  He sat down numbly, palms tapping on his thighs. Fuck, fuck, fuck sounded like a drumbeat in his head.

  In the new silence in the van, he could hear Talia over the wire and the light, tinkling sound of her laugh.

  “Yeah, Chelsea said this is the place to go,” Talia said cheerfully.

  “Chelsea also said this was a friend of hers I’d want to meet.” Jonnie’s voice was low and dripping. Reed could practically hear him salivating over Talia. His hands clenched into fists. Not a fucking chance.

  “Looks like Chelsea’s right about a lot of things.”

  That laugh again, high and easy. Was Talia flirting with this scumbag? Reed tasted iron in the back of his mouth. Iron and blood, adrenaline firing through him.

  Aaron shot him a wary look, but Reed stayed sitting. They had to get Talia out of there unharmed. That was the only thing keeping him from tearing out of that van.

  “So, whatcha looking for?” Jonnie crooned.

  “You know I dance, right?” Talia said, and Reed had to hand it to her. She knew how to play this guy, sounding just eager, just stupid enough to let Jonnie think he was the one in control, and she was the silly girl eating out of his hand.

  “Couldn’t miss it with those legs of yours, sweetheart.”

  A growl came from Reed’s chest. Vicky shot him a look. He couldn’t help it. If Jonnie were in this van right now, he’d be hard pressed to find a reason not to tear the guy’s head off with his bare hands.

  “These legs are tired,” Talia said, with a tone that let Reed picture her flipping her hair and pouting. “Opening night is tonight and oh my God, I’m so ne
rvous. Plus I had knee surgery over the summer and it’s been bothering me lately with all the rehearsing, you know?”

  She let the unspoken assumption hang between them.

  “Sure, sweetheart. I can give you some candy to take care of that.”

  “Chelsea said you only had good stuff. I gotta perform, you know? I’m too nervous to risk it from just anyone.”

  “Of course, of course.” Jonnie’s voice was soothing, all bass. “What I have is completely pure.”

  “How do I know?”

  Reed’s heart seized in his chest. This was the moment. This was it. Talia didn’t say it like she was suspicious, like she was fishing. The sweet, innocent routine was good. Really good. It came across like she didn’t quite understand how this all worked. Like it was a great opening for Jonnie to show her what a man he was.

  And Jonnie, bless his heart, took the bait. Hook, line, and sinker.

  Static on the wire. Then Jonnie’s voice. A whisper. Like he was leaning right in Talia’s ear.

  Reed felt a shiver go through him. Disgust at the thought of that man so close to Talia. Touching her. Breathing down her neck.

  His heart was racing. And then, Jonnie finally said it.

  “Because I got these right from the source, sweetheart. You can go fill out a prescription at your local Duane Reade, or you can come to me.”

  It was too much for West to reveal. An idiot move. But Talia was a woman who men would be idiots for. Reed knew that much firsthand.

  “Got him,” Aaron said, exhaling slowly in the stillness of the van, where all of them had stopped breathing.

  Talia gave more giggles, asked more questions, played Jonnie like a violin. And Jonnie sang for her. He didn’t confess to any murders—that would have been too much to hope for. But he let Talia know how pure his supply was, how he’d gotten it right from a pharmacy, how Talia didn’t have to worry…

  Aaron was grinning. The technicians were giving each other high-fives. Over the wire, Talia was agreeing to the sale, begging Jonnie to let her hang out with him a little. Making him break his protocol, so that he was the one handing her the pills. He was the one taking her money. He was the one explaining which was which, when to take them, how she was going to get so high, that knee surgery would seem like a lifetime ago, and when she got on stage, she’d be floating…