by Anna Albo
Meanwhile, Zach had other ideas. He’d mapped out culinary schools near every one of his potential law schools. But what did I want? I still didn’t know. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I even wanted to leave Minnesota. And like Grandpa always reminded me: did I want to toil in a hot kitchen every night of my life? But was psychology the right path?
“When are we eating?” Brett asked, circling the island I was using to cut up tomatoes for the salad.
“About ten minutes. I’m waiting for the potato gratin.”
“Can you make pizzas tomorrow? I love your pizzas.” He whined like a little kid, but I couldn’t help but find it adorable. Although we hadn’t meshed for a long time, I was coming around to Brett and his floppy blond hair, silly jokes and amiable personality. I could see why he’d been Zach’s best friend since childhood.
“Sure.”
He beamed. “You’re awesome!”
Zach wandered in, came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. He smelled fresh from his shower, the pine scent of his soap. “Smells good. So does the food.”
I smiled as he snuggled his scruffy cheek against my neck. The touch tickled. “You’re always on, aren’t you?” I said, quiet enough so that no one else would hear.
“Turned on? Yes.”
“Maybe you should have taken a cold shower. In the meantime, why don’t you gather your friends and set the table?”
“Sure, but that’s not nearly as fun.”
The meal was a success. Even some of the weight-conscious girls gobbled up the food. As Brett scooped the last of the potatoes on his plate, I had the sudden fear that I hadn’t made enough food, but as we cleaned up and people milled around looking for a place to beach themselves, I knew I’d got it right.
“Who would like to join me on the deck for a relaxing smoke of the medicinal kind?” Brett asked.
This roused everyone from their attempted slumbers. All but Zach went outside. He stayed behind as I put the last of the dishes away.
“I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this, but have you ever smoked a joint?”
“No, and tonight isn’t going to be the day I try,” I said.
“It’s relaxing.”
“I’m not morally opposed to it. I just don’t want to do it for the first time around a bunch of people I barely know. I don’t want to be a source of their amusement.”
“Fair enough. Do you care if I have a joint?”
“No. And do you mind making up an excuse for me? I don’t want them to think I’m anti-social.”
He smiled and winked. “Not a problem.”
I didn’t mind a few hours to myself. Often around Zach’s friends I felt like a circus performer. Did I do the right trick? Did I say the right thing? Do they think I’m quiet, shy or weird? A few hours to myself with a good book appealed to me. I could take a break from the show.
I must have fallen asleep because Zach woke me up, his arms up my shirt and massaging my breasts. He reeked of marijuana as he kissed me on the lips. It took me a second to get my bearings and when I did I pushed him away.
“You really smell.”
“Yeah,” he murmured as he made an attempt to pull at the button on my capris. He was so out of it.
I slid out of bed and out of his reach. He looked at me, bleary-eyed. I’d never seen him wasted before and it wasn’t a pretty sight. I knew that in a few minutes he’d pass out, so I’d have to endure his touchy-feelyness for a bit.
“I’m going to change and brush my teeth. I’ll be right back.”
I stalled, and when I returned he was sprawled out on the bed, still fully dressed, his eyes open to a slit. He’d be out in seconds.
“Still horny?”
He mumbled something unintelligible.
“Thought so.” Then a thought occurred to me. “Zach, what’s on the video you have of Bianca?”
A full five seconds passed until he answered. More mumbling, so I asked again.
“She’s a whore,” he said, turning over and falling asleep.
Not a lot of information, but enough to give me a good idea. And if Zach was the one taking the video, I couldn’t help but feel the ick factor setting in. But that was the old Zach—that’s what I would keep telling myself until I believed it.
CHAPTER THREE
Emma
I made dough and set it aside to rise. On a warm day like today, I didn’t anticipate that being a problem. We had all the ingredients we needed for toppings, and I gave Brett the task of helping me slice the peppers and grate cheese. I had ulterior motives, but he didn’t need to know that. With everyone safely out on the boat or dock, I had him to myself. Treading carefully was important.
“Are you still in Zach’s old frat?”
“Phi Sigma Kappa? Yeah, of course.”
“Zach never talks about it.”
“Because he probably doesn’t remember most of it,” Brett said and laughed at his little joke.
“That bad?”
“He hasn’t told you a thing?”
Brett grabbed another red pepper, a huge smile on his face, no doubt remembering all the escapades he’d had with his best friend. I put three onions in front of him. That would wipe away the smile.
“He’s mentioned a few things. Do you think he misses it?”
“Nah. He had to get serious about school. Our frat was a constant party. It still is. Why do you ask? Because we were smoking up last night?”
“No, just curious.”
I didn’t know what more I could ask without arousing suspicion. I couldn’t come out with ‘Hey, Brett. What’s on the video? I’m sure you’ve seen it. Are you in it too?’ If I went there, Zach would know about it before I finished my last question.
“Are you going to put spicy chorizo on one of the pizzas? It’s my favorite.”
“Sure.”
A year ago, my first impression of Brett was a stuck-up rich brat. Slowly, over the past few months, I realized he was more of a lovable oaf. He had a simplicity about him, always trying to keep up with Zach but being subtle about it. At first he didn’t like me because that’s what he thought he should do. Now that we’d gotten to know each other, I’d changed his opinion of me. But like anyone’s best friend, he didn’t trust me completely.
“You know Julia, Dylan’s girlfriend?”
“Not too well. Why?”
“She mentioned Bianca. I guess they’re friends.”
I watched Brett’s face but he gave no reaction. “Oh, I had no idea. Bianca’s got a lot of friends.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Was she taking sides? I don’t want her making trouble.”
“No, nothing like that. She mentioned it in passing. There wasn’t tension or anything.”
“Good,” he said with a sniffle. The first onion was doing its job.
I bit down on my lip. Did I go for it? Chance he might put it together? Brett was a nice guy, but he wasn’t the brightest bulb. “You still see Bianca?”
“She’s kept a pretty low profile. I don’t think I’ve seen her all summer. After all that shit went down with you, she disappeared. I hear her parents threatened to take her out of Western. They must have found out what she did. It was pretty cool of you not to finger her.” He paused. “Finger her,” he said again and laughed.
His sense of humor was juvenile.
“I did punch her in the face.”
“That was pretty cool.”
“I don’t condone violence.”
“It’s still funny.”
Brett grabbed the last onion and sliced them thinly, just as I asked. I wanted him to feel maximum pain for being a goofball. He kept wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. I loved it.
“The part I don’t get is how her parents found out.”
He shrugged. “Uh, Zach,” Brett said, like I was some kind of idiot.
“He told them?”
“He probably got someone else to do it.” Brett’s teary eyes narrowed. “Why don’
t you ask him?”
Did I go too far? “I have. He doesn’t really answer my questions.”
“That’s Zach.” And that was the end of our conversation. Brett moved on to the upcoming hockey season since he knew I was a fan. I could have pursued the Bianca conversation but that would have made him suspicious. Talk of hockey might help him forget my inquisition. Maybe it was time to let the whole thing go. It was old news and I really had no interest in revisiting it. There was a video with Bianca doing something she shouldn’t have. Zach took it. He was in it. So what. Right?
Except that Zach was in it. If they had sex . . . I couldn’t let myself consider it. The past was the past and if they’d done something together back then, why did that matter now? I had to look forward even if this damn video was eating me alive.
CHAPTER FOUR
Zach
“You’ve got a problem. A big fucking problem.”
Brett and I were hanging out alone on the dock, our feet dangling in the water like two kids gone fishing—except for poles, we had joints. Sure, I knew Emma hated my occasional habit, but she never said a word. Every once in a while, it was nice to take the edge off and relax. I had the year from hell coming up, and the time for slacking would be over—not that I’d been slacking all that much. But the distractions were over. I didn’t need to look out for Emma or worry about her like I did now that Bianca had agreed to back off. And if she didn’t keep her promise, she’d pay for it.
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?” I asked, taking a long puff.
“Emma was sniffing around, asking about Bianca.”
I sat up straight. “She asked you today?”
“Yup. While we were making pizzas.”
“And you tell me now?”
Brett’s face crunched up. “When was I supposed to tell you? While we were eating? In front of everyone? Man, sometimes you’re a real dumbass.”
Me? The dumbass? “What did she want to know?”
“She asked if I’ve seen Bianca. I told her she’s been out of sight, that her parents probably found out what she did . . .” He paused. “I might have suggested that you had a hand in Bianca’s parents finding out.”
I wanted to push him in the water and hold him under with my feet. “Are you serious?”
“I was just talking. What’s the big deal, anyway?”
“You are a super dumbass. You’re the dumbass to end all dumbasses. Why would you say that to her?”
Brett’s eyes opened wide. “Why are you freaking out when you should be chilling?”
“Because I specifically told Emma I wouldn’t contact Bianca, and now you’ve implied that I have.”
Brett slunk back. “Okay, I see your problem. I didn’t say you did tell her parents.”
“Please don’t do me any more favors. And if Emma asks you anything else, keep your trap shut and talk to me first.”
We were silent for a couple of minutes. I had to keep my anger in check while contemplating what to do next. Going to Emma and telling her I knew about the conversation she had with my idiot best friend wasn’t an option. She’d know she couldn’t trust him in the future. And it was quite possible she was making conversation and there wasn’t much to it in the first place. The one thing I did know was that Brett was lucky we were smoking, otherwise he’d be lying face down in the water.
I WOKE UP THE NEXT morning but pretended I was still asleep for a little longer. Emma was up and showered, a towel wrapped around her and her wet hair hugging her shoulders. Every part of me was suddenly wide awake. She took a towel and hand dried her hair, then slipped out of the towel she was wearing. This was the point in a relationship when I got bored, thought about escape routes, how to let them down easy, but not this girl. With each passing day I wanted her more than the day before.
“I know you’re awake. You’re so busted,” she said, throwing the towel she’d used for her hair at me.
I caught it before it slapped me in the face. “How’d you know?”
“You were talking in your sleep and you stopped.”
She slipped on a pair of pink panties then put on the matching bra. Her breasts, small and delicate, were perfect for her body and my hands. I’d play with them all day long if she’d let me.
“What was I talking about?” I asked, sitting up and stretching.
“Gibberish mostly. You know you talk in your sleep sometimes.”
“How would I know? I’m asleep.”
She fought hard not to smile but couldn’t help herself. “You should get out of bed. I want to get started on breakfast. I could use help mixing the pancake batter.”
“Or you could come back to bed,” I said, trying to grab her when she retrieved her phone from the nightstand. She sidestepped my grasp and surveyed her phone, staying beyond my reach.
“No, I want to eat then pack up. I was hoping to be back in the city by lunch. I have a ton of stuff I want to get done.”
I couldn’t tell if she was being frosty or distracted. She swiped and tapped on her phone a few times then threw it in her backpack.
“Up and at ‘em, Walker.”
When she passed the bed again she was close enough to me. I took hold of her forearm and pulled her onto the bed. She squealed for a second before I had my lips on hers. She responded and I knew then she wasn’t put off by her conversation with Brett. She murmured softly and when she tried to slither away, I held her tighter.
“No one else is up, so why do we have to get up?”
“Because I’m making breakfast. And then we’re leaving. You can distract me when we get home.”
I gave up and released her. She took a pair of shorts she had laying out on the bed and slipped into them. Her tight ass in those shorts nearly sent me over the edge. I swear she knew what to wear to drive me nuts. When she threw on a white tank top that accentuated her perky breasts, I couldn’t help but stare. When I looked up to her face, her lips had formed a thin line.
“Do you need a cold shower?”
“Probably.”
She rolled her eyes. “Kitchen in ten minutes. The pancake batter will be waiting for you.”
“Slave driver,” I muttered.
I showered, got dressed and met her in the kitchen. She had coffee started and I poured a cup. I turned and she was standing there, bowl in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.
“Perfect timing,” she said. “Mix for two minutes or until it’s no longer lumpy.”
I set my coffee down and got to work. “Are you starting this early? No one is awake.”
“They will be soon, especially when they smell breakfast.”
“You seem to always recruit little helpers. Brett last night, me this morning.”
“I made him slice onions and he cried,” she said and giggled.
“You’re a cruel woman.”
“We had a bonding moment.”
“I hear you chatted.” I decided there was no use beating around the bush. I saw an opening and took it.
She was beating eggs in another bowl and didn’t miss a trick, but her rosy cheeks gave her away. “I asked him about Bianca, but I’m guessing you already know that.”
“Brett mentioned it. Why are you asking about her? Isn’t she old news? Like, really old news?”
“I’m curious, I guess.”
Something wasn’t adding up, but I couldn’t figure it out. “Why would you ask about her out of the blue?”
“I don’t know. I thought of her and asked him.” She put the bowl down and stared at me. “Have you been talking about her? Getting her in trouble with her friends?”
This threw me for a loop. I was sure she could tell by the shocked look on my face. “I haven’t seen or spoken to Bianca in a long time. She’s not even on my radar.”
She kept staring, those green eyes with a touch of gold to them shooting missiles my way, but I kept deflecting.
“You’re not lying, right? You promised me you’d leave her alone.”
“And I kept that pr
omise.” Sort of. She didn’t need to know about my visit to Bianca after that bitch put Emma in the hospital. Or that when Bianca’s name came up with friends that I put my two cents in. But since the incident, I hadn’t done anything overt.
“Brett mentioned that her parents threatened to take her out of Western.”
“While I wouldn’t be sad to see her go, I had nothing to do with that.”
More staring. She may not have known it, but she had me on the ropes. Sweat was forming on my brow and if we didn’t get off this subject fast, she’d have me admitting to everything, hell, even things I didn’t do.
“We need to get rid of her from our lives once and for all. Okay? I mean everything.”
“I’ve forgotten all about her,” I said, trying to smile.
“Good. I don’t even want to hear her name again.”
I swallowed hard. Did I know what she meant? Sure, but I wasn’t getting rid of that video. Not until I had Emma as far away as possible from Bianca Smythe.
CHAPTER FIVE
Emma
“How was your weekend?” Jessica asked Monday afternoon. I loved working with her and I loved working at Julian’s, a coffee shop near Western’s campus. I’d been upgraded to keyholder over the summer and my added responsibilities also meant a raise. Between teaching tennis and Julian’s, I’d managed to put away a good chunk of money over the summer. Enough that I could ease up on work hours and spend more time on school and with Zach.
“Good, how about you?”
“I was planning out my thesis. This is going to be a long year.”
“But then you graduate and off you go to greener pastures.”
“You mean the unemployment line?”
“You’re smart and amazing. I’m sure you’ll find a job in no time.”
Jessica shrugged. “I hope so. I have a shitload of school loans to pay off.”
I put on my apron and got to work. Coffee needed to be made, tables cleared and the pastry showcase to be filled. With my reduced workweek, Billie had hired another barista who liked to bake too. The problem was that she didn’t follow my recipes and customers complained. Roxanne, the newbie, was the type of person who had to prove herself—to re-invent the wheel, so to speak. This led to dry muffins, rock-hard cookies and pastries destined for the garbage bin. The volume of waste became so high that Billie called us both into her office before classes resumed for a baked goods intervention.
