by Nicole James
His jaw muscles tick again.
“Help me out.” I lift a hand to him, but he ignores it and scoops me up, then pats my skin gently with a thick towel. He slips one of his large tee shirts over my head and carries me back to the bed.
Then he applies the ointment to my sunburn and tucks me in. “Get some sleep.”
I don’t fight him; instead I nod and close my eyes.
It’s the next morning when I open them again. I’m on my side but feel Daytona against my back, his hand on my hip. When I move, he rouses, and I roll to look at him.
“Morning, beautiful,” he whispers. “How you feel?”
“Better.”
“I thought I lost you.” I see the intensity in his eyes, and I touch my fingertips to his lips, cutting off any further words he might say, emotion flooding me. I try to speak, but my voice cracks.
He turns, nabs a bottle of water, and passes it to me. I drink down enough to satisfy him.
“I need to pee.” Maybe I’m a coward, but I grab at any excuse to delay the talk we need to have. I push to a sitting position and he moves like he’s going to carry me. I shake my head. “I can walk.”
“You sure?”
I stand, and there’s no more dizziness. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“You feel weak, call out, okay?”
I smile. “All right.”
I walk to the bathroom and close the door. When I’m finished, I wash my hands and stare into the mirror. I feel better, and I don’t look as bad as I feared I might. I look toward the door. No more excuses. I have to talk to Daytona. I have to tell him everything I’ve put off telling him. Now. Right now.
My purse is sitting on the vanity, right where I’d left it two nights ago. God, that seems like a lifetime. I pull out my phone. There are a bunch of texts and missed calls from Scarlett and from Daryl. I shoot off a text to Daryl, read his response, and then set my phone back in my purse.
I see my makeup bag lying on the counter and take a moment to swipe a little mascara on and some lip-gloss.
I walk out and move to my bag, pulling some clothes out.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
He doesn’t stop me when I go back in the bathroom to do it or question why I suddenly need privacy from him.
I dress in the jeans and Harley tank top I wore the day I switched with Scarlett, then slip her boots on.
I step out. He’s still reclining against the headboard, bare-chested. I pause, taking in all his gorgeous maleness, wondering if it will be the last time.
I bend down, shove my things in my bag, and zip it up, then stand.
“C’mere, baby.” He motions me to him with two fingers.
I shake my head. “Can we talk in the kitchen?”
“What’s wrong, Cherry?”
I exit the room without answering.
I go down to the kitchen and stare out the window, preparing for a conversation I’ve been dreading.
Daytona walks in. He’s fully dressed, right down to his boots. He moves to the coffeepot and pours a mug.
The coffeemaker is set to automatic brew. Six a.m. every morning. I study the man who gets up early every morning regardless of what his day has planned, just so he can watch from the deck as the sun rises.
It’s nine a.m. now, so that coffee has been sitting for hours. He pours a second mug and carries it to me. He moves to a cabinet and gets down a bottle of Irish Cream liqueur. He doesn’t ask, he just pours a healthy swig in my mug, and then his.
Finally, he sits across from me. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I’m not who you think I am. I don’t own Badlands, and I’m not Scarlett.”
He huffs a laugh, then sobers, and I can tell by the puzzled look that crosses his face, he’s wondering if I’m still dealing with the aftereffects of the dehydration.
“Then who are you, Cherry?” His words are quiet and cautious, like I’ve suddenly sprouted two heads.
I smile and look away. “The funny thing is, if I hadn’t done what I did, we never would have met.”
His brows slash down. “Who are you? You a cop?”
I can see the sudden worry on his face, considering all he’s told me, all he’s confessed to me.
“No. I’m not a cop.” I smile.
“Then who the fuck are you?” All his humor is gone.
“I have a twin sister. Her name is Scarlett Malone.”
“Scarlett Malone is your sister?”
I nod. “She uses our father’s name. I use our mother’s maiden name.”
“Which is?”
“My real name is Charlotte. Charlotte Justice. Have you ever heard of me?”
“Nope. Should I have?”
“Depends on your musical taste.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m a singer/song-writer. I’ve had some success. Toured in the US and Europe.” I shrug. “That’s not important.”
“The hell it’s not. So you fucking lied to me? About everything?”
“I switched places with my sister.”
“So, she’s taking your place? She sings, too?”
“Yes. We were a duo for a short time, but it didn’t work out. I changed my name and became a different act. A solo act. It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time. Why’d you do it? Why’d you switch?”
“I just… needed a break.” I run my finger around the rim of my coffee mug and finally lift my eyes to his. “But I hadn’t counted on meeting you. You were a surprise.”
“Jesus Christ. I told you everything. And this was all just a game to you?” He surges to his feet.
“I’m sorry. It started out as just a way to… decompress. I just got caught up in the lie. At first it didn’t matter that you thought I was my sister. And then suddenly everything changed, and it did matter, only it was too late. I was already stuck in the lie.”
“You should have come clean a long time ago, Miss Justice.”
His use of my real name crushes me. I want to be his Cherry again.
“Every day I wanted to tell you. Please know that. Please believe it. I never wanted to hurt you.” I shake my head, my eyes filling. “Never.”
“But yet you let this go on. You let me go on about a future you had no intention of sticking around for.”
“I always intended to go back, but I’ve been so confused, and—”
“Confused? You’re confused?” He runs a hand through his hair. “So what’s the plan now?”
“I have a series of performances in Las Vegas. I already missed one last night.”
His chin comes up. “This is what you wanted to tell me the other night.”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve always had one foot out the door. Jesus Christ.”
“I’ve called for a ride back. I need to settle things with my sister.”
“So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand.”
The sound of the front door opening carries to us.
“Daytona?” Trick calls out.
“In the kitchen.”
Trick walks in and takes in both our faces, and he must feel the vibe of the room. “Umm, is everything okay?”
Daytona leans his hands on the back of his chair and looks over at his VP. “No. It’s not. What did you want?”
“Had some club business to discuss, but, uh, did you call a limo, cause one followed me up to the door?”
Daytona swivels his head to me but says nothing.
I stand. “I’ll get my things.”
I leave the room but overhear Trick asking his president, “What the fuck is going on?”
I grab my bag and when I exit the bedroom, they’re standing inside the front door.
Daytona opens it for me. “Guess I’ve been the biggest fool on the planet.”
I shake my head. “No. You haven’t. I’m so sorry.”
Daryl is standing next to the limo. He opens the back door for me when he sees me.
I swipe the tears that roll down my cheek and dash to the limo.
Daryl closes the door behind me and gets in the driver’s seat.
“You okay, Miss Charlotte?”
“I’m fine. Did you bring what I asked?”
He passes my checkbook, an envelope, and a pen over the back of his seat.
I take it and scribble out a check, rip it off, stuff it in the envelope and then write a note and shove it inside.
***
Daytona—
I can’t bear to watch Cherry drive out of my life, so I turn and stalk inside.
I go in the kitchen, grab a couple of beers from the fridge, and head outside to the deck. I settle into a chair, set one on the deck next to me, and twist the top on the other.
The slider behind me opens and shuts as I tip my bottle up. Trick comes to stand in my peripheral vision, holding out an envelope to me.
My eyes shift to him and I lower my bottle, taking it. “What’s this?”
“You tell me.” He jerks his chin toward the front of the house. “Limo driver got out and handed it to me before they drove off.”
I stare down at it. My name is written on the front.
I flip it over and pull out a folded piece of paper. I unfold it and a check stares back at me. It’s made out to me for five thousand dollars and signed by Charlotte Justice. On the memo line it says… Scarlett’s debt is paid in full.
I look at the note written on Hotel Blue stationary.
Baby—
I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you, but mostly for lying to you.
I want you to know that what happened between us, and the way I felt about you was never a lie. It was real. And it was sweet. And it was wonderful.
I’ve never been so happy.
But my career is calling, and I have a band to support. Seems whatever I do, I’m letting someone down. I’m sorry it has to be you this time.
Please understand this isn’t the way I wanted this to end.
I’ll always love you. I’ll always be your Cherry.
—Charlotte
I stare off at the horizon.
“So, you gonna tell me what the fuck happened, and why Cherry just left here in a fucking limo?”
I fold the note and shove it and the check back in the envelope. “You ever hear of a singer named Charlotte Justice?”
“Nope.” Trick pulls his phone out and searches the name. “Holy shit, you tellin’ me that’s Cherry?” He hands me the phone, and I scroll through the pictures of her in concert. I realize she’s so much bigger than this place and what I have to offer her. I pass the phone back to Trick.
“Seems Scarlett who owns Badlands is actually her twin. They switched places.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Yep.”
He continues looking through the results he pulled up.
“Looks like she’s got a gig at a new place on the strip called Hotel Blue. Final show is tomorrow night.”
I pass him the other beer. He shoves his phone in his pocket and takes it, twisting the top off. We sit quietly, each sipping our beer and watching the horizon. Finally, he turns to me.
“You gonna just let her go?”
I take another sip of my beer, and then look over at my VP. “Fuck no.”
***
Find out how Daytona and Cherry’s story ends in…
SCARLETT: Soul Sisters – Book Two
About the Author
Nicole James is the bestselling author of hot as sin romance
where the badass hero will do anything for the woman he loves…
The Evil Dead MC Series and Brothers Ink Tattoo Series.
She makes her home in Alabama.
.
Like Nicole James on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/Nicole-James-533220360061689
Join Nicole James’ Clubhouse reader group:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/763490467147322/
Follow Nicole James on Instagram and Twitter:
https://www.instagram.com/authornicolejames
https://twitter.com/@Nicole_James1
Visit Nicole’s website for her current booklist:
www.nicolejames.net
