Rule #5: You Can't Trust the Bad Boy (The Rules of Love)

by Anne-Marie Meyer

  I swallowed a few times, hoping to erase the rawness that had settled there.

  “Be careful,” he said as he studied me.

  “Yeah. Will do.” There were only a few doughnuts left in the bottom of the bag, so to save my throat and my dignity, I threw them into a nearby garbage.

  I brushed off my hands and turned to smile at him. “I thought it wise,” I said, nodding toward the trash.

  “Probably smart,” he said.

  We stood in silence for a few seconds before he sighed. “Shall we?”

  I glanced over to see him motion toward the Ferris wheel. “Really?”

  He shrugged. “Unless you want to try fitting on the airplane ride.”

  I snorted as I quickened my pace toward the giant spinning wheel. When we got to the ticket taker, Jet handed him the tickets and we waited until the wheel stopped moving and the attendant slid open the bar so we could board the ride.

  Once we were seated, the attendant latched the door, and we were off.

  I clung to the edge of the seat as the clouds came into view, our bucket climbing high into the sky. I tried not to look down and wonder how it would feel to plummet to the ground.

  “Do you not like heights?” Jet asked.

  I turned and pinched my lips together as I shook my head. “Not really. But I’m trying to get over it. I’m tired of taking sleeping medicine every time I get on a plane.”

  Jet leaned back against his seat and stretched out his legs. They brushed against mine, sending shivers across my skin. I contemplated moving, but when Jet didn’t budge, I decided to let it go.

  Was it wrong if I liked it?

  “Do you do a lot of flying?”

  I glanced over at him. He looked genuinely interested in my answer.

  “Yeah. To New York and back. My mom likes to travel, and sometimes she takes me with.” I couldn’t help the sadness that coated my tone as I stared at the ocean that stretched out in front of us.

  There had been moments in my life when Mom wasn’t crazy. When she wasn’t trying to turn me into an olden-day bride. She could be cool and relaxed if she wanted to be. But most of the time she was a bundle of raw nerves.

  “Sounds like fun,” Jet said.

  I glanced over at him. There was a sadness in his voice that made me wonder.

  “Not much of a traveler?” I asked as I clasped my hands together and squeezed them. I needed something more to do than just sit there and stare at him.

  Jet shrugged as he extended his arm to rest on the back of his seat. “No. Didn’t ever have the money.” He sighed, blowing out his breath in one long motion. “Hard to when Dad’s a drunk and Mom’s working minimum wage.”

  Ah. Finally, I was learning a bit more about Jet. It was like a puzzle that I was anxious to put together. Who he was and where he came from. I wanted to know everything.

  I must have waited too long to respond because when I parted my lips to say something, Jet just shrugged and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “Sorry,” he said as he brought his gaze up to meet mine. “I don’t know why my thoughts are like a faucet around you.” He sighed as he leaned back. “Didn’t think you’d be getting involved with a guy who was a giant mess, did you?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t want him to think that I wasn’t enjoying him opening up to me.

  “It’s nice...you know.” I took a deep breath. “Knowing that I’m not the only one with crazy parents. Or life problems.”

  His chuckle was soft as he shook his head. “You have problems? How?”

  For some reason, it hurt that he thought I had everything made. As if a girl with wealthy parents couldn’t possibly feel alone or frustrated. Or want a different life for herself, even if her parents were determined that her life was going in the direction they thought best.

  It was like I was stuck, frozen by my parents’ expectations. And Jet just writing all that off made me...mad. I wasn’t the spoiled girl that he was painting me to be.

  When I didn’t respond, Jet glanced over at me. His gaze roamed over my face, and for a moment, I saw regret flash in his eyes.

  “Sorry, Brielle. I didn’t mean...” He blew out his breath as he scrubbed his face. “I can be a jerk sometimes.”

  Not wanting to show him how much he’d hurt me, I shrugged as I wrapped my arms around my chest. “It’s okay,” I whispered.

  He studied me and then cursed under his breath. “Let’s make a pact. I won’t ask you about your family, and you won’t ask me about mine. There are some things that should just be secret.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

  I wasn’t a fan of that idea, but if it kept the conversation light and easy, I’d do it. After all, this was my weekend to have fun before being shipped off to Italy. I didn’t need to drag it down with talk of my parents.

  So I slipped my hand into his, and the pressure from his grip sent jolts of electricity up my arm. My hand looked tiny, enveloped in his. I pulled my gaze from our clasped hands and up to him. His lips were tipped up into a smile.

  “Deal,” I said as he slowly shook my hand.

  I thought that he held onto my hand a tad longer than absolutely necessary, but I wasn’t completely sure. My mind was having a hard time processing what was happening around me. It felt as if the world was moving at a slower pace than normal as I sat across from Jet.

  I hoped it would keep feeling that way, especially since in just 48 hours I would be gone. If I could, I’d slow down time forever.

  But, when he dropped his hand, effectively breaking our contact, I was pulled back to the normal passing of time. The Ferris wheel circled a few more times before it came to a stop and the attendant informed us it was time to get off.

  Jet waited for me and smiled down at me as I passed by. We kept in step as we wandered around the pier.

  We kept our conversations light. We talked about our favorite class in school and the sports we did—or did not—play. The sun made its way through the sky as Jet nodded toward the games he wanted to play.

  It was nice, standing next to him, attempting to shoot baskets or blasting some creepy-looking plastic man with a water gun.

  Even though I completely bombed every game I played, Jet actually won a few and let me pick the ridiculously expensive stuffed animal prize. I settled on a dolphin and tucked it under my arm as Jet nodded toward the exit. Then, realizing that I was going to be riding on a motorcycle, I gave the dolphin to a little boy with dyed-blue lips, who squealed and pumped it in the air.

  Jet chuckled. “Ready for this portion of the day to be over?” he asked as he held out his hand.

  I nodded. “Sure. What else did you have in mind?”

  We moved through the building to the exit and back out onto the boardwalk.

  Jet shrugged as he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. “Dinner?”

  My stomach rumbled. Apparently, fried dough covered with sugar wasn’t very filling. “I’m starving.”

  Jet chuckled as he walked alongside me. “I know a place.”

  I nodded, keeping my gaze trained on the wood slats under my feet. “Oh really?”

  But before Jet could answer, his phone rang.

  He pulled it from his back pocket, and as he read the name on the screen, his face fell. After a quick glance over at me, he swiped to answer. “Hey, man,” he said as he held the phone to his ear.

  I kept silent as I walked next to him. I couldn’t make out what the person was saying, but I could hear the tone—and it didn’t sound good.

  “You what?” Jet asked as he moved to one side of the pier. He pressed his finger into his other ear as he leaned on the railing. “What were you thinking?”

  A more panicked voice sounded from the other end.

  Jet’s jaw clenched and his gaze hardened.

  I wanted to say something. I wanted to help. But I figured trying to insert myself into his conversation was probably not the smartest thing to do, so I remained silent.

  “
Yeah, I’ll come get you. Hold tight.” He growled as he pressed the end call button. After slipping the phone into his back pocket, he brought up both his hands and pushed them through his hair, staring out at the ocean.

  “Everything okay?” I asked. I gave him a small, I come in peace smile.

  Jet flicked his gaze down at me and then sighed as he shook his head. “I’ve got to call it, Brielle.”

  I stared at him. What did that mean? He must have seen my confusion, because he scrubbed his face with his hands.

  “It’s been fun, but I’ve got to go. I’ve got a life I have to get back to.” He leaned closer to me. “And so do you.”

  Tears pricked my eyes as I started to shake my head. “No. No. You promised me a weekend. I...paid you. I trusted you.” I stared hard at the ground, willing myself to get control of my frustration. This wasn’t what I wanted to do. I wanted to be strong no matter how weak I felt. But this was yet another part of my life that I had absolutely no say in.

  “Brielle, please...” His shoes came into view as he moved closer. He reached out and rested his hand on my elbow, like that was going to somehow make me feel better.

  It didn’t.

  If anything, it made me madder. “You made a promise,” I said. “You told me I could trust you.” My voice was low as I glanced up at him.

  He studied me with his eyebrows furrowed. “Things have changed.”

  I shook my head, this time more resolutely. “Not good enough. Take me with you. I promise, I won’t get in the way. I just...I can’t go home right now.”

  He looked like he was fighting an internal battle. “Bri—”

  “I promise. You won’t even know I’m there.”

  He pressed his lips together, and then, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed. “Fine. But the minute there’s trouble, I want you gone. You’ll call your family and work out whatever drama is going on between you.”

  I held up my left hand. “I swear.”

  His eyes narrowed as he glanced over to my hand. He turned to make his way down the boardwalk, and I followed. But as soon as he’d started, he stopped. Before I could catch myself, I plowed into him. Startled, I looked up to see what was wrong.

  Being the graceful person that I was, I stumbled, my body pitching forward. Luckily, Jet seemed more aware of his surroundings than I. His hands wrapped around my waist to steady me. Heat flushed my body as I glanced up at him. He was staring down at me with an intensity that I couldn’t quite read.

  What was he thinking?

  Then his intensity turned to confidence. “You okay?” he asked.

  Embarrassment coursed through me, but I found enough control to slowly nod. “Yes.”

  He held my gaze and then a smooth smile spread across his lips. Like he wanted to make sure I understood what he was about to say. “I call the shots. When I say it’s time for you to go home, you go home,” he said.

  It took a moment for his words to catch up with my brain. He was in charge and could tell me to go home whenever he wanted. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  “But—”

  He shook his head, halting my protest. “It’s that or nothing.”

  I chewed my cheek before I blew out a breath and nodded. “I understand.”

  He dropped his hands as he studied me a moment longer. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Six

  A sense of freedom washed over me as I sat on the back of Jet’s motorcycle. It was like I was a bird let out of its cage for the first time. With my arms wrapped around Jet and the expansiveness of the world around me, I felt untouchable. There were no rules. No parents to squash me into submission.

  I was just...me.

  Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I tightened my grip on Jet’s waist. We leaned together as he took the corner and headed to the outskirts of Atlantic City. A place where my parents would never be caught dead.

  It was perfect.

  I was enjoying this little escapade. For the first time in a long time, I was making my own decisions. And I loved it. I couldn’t imagine going back to my stuffy life as Brielle Livingstone, heiress to the Livingstone Hotel empire.

  There was so much responsibility wrapped up in that name, and most times, it felt like a noose around my neck. Like a part of myself that I was never going to get away from. But here, on the back of Jet’s motorcycle, it didn’t matter.

  It didn’t take long before Jet pulled into the parking lot of Tommy’s Convenience Store and turned off the engine. My ears rang as silence settled around us. I waited for Jet to kick the stand down before I climbed off.

  My legs felt wobbly, and I could still feel the rumble of the motorcycle throughout my body. I reached up to unbuckle my helmet and slip it off. Then I placed it on the back of Jet’s bike and straightened.

  Jet climbed off the motorcycle and tucked the key into his front pocket.

  I turned to study the store behind us. “Thirsty?” I asked, nodding in the direction of the very large slushy cup in the window.

  Jet shook his head. “We’re here to help someone.”

  “Who?”

  He glanced down at me as he passed by. “Just keep quiet,” he said.

  I pinched my lips together as I nodded and followed him. He held the door open as I walked into the small store. Displays were lined along the walls. They were stocked with all sorts of candy and chips.

  The far back wall had coolers filled with bottles and cans. A soda fountain was tucked into the corner next to a slushy machine with an Out-of-Order sign taped to the front.

  Well, that was disappointing.

  “I warned you boys.” A tall man with thinning hair moved into my line of sight. He’d stepped out from behind the counter, and I could see his stained shirt and yellowing teeth.

  He had the look of death on his face. Out of instinct, I stepped closer to Jet—he didn’t seem phased by this man.

  “I know, Mr. McCabe. I don’t know what came over Crew. I’ll take care of him.”

  Mr. McCabe folded his arms, and I could see the faded mermaid tattoo across his forearm. I wondered for a moment if it was one of the tattoos that wiggled when he moved his muscles.

  “It’ll cost you,” he said.

  I peeked over at Jet, suddenly feeling like I was in a mafia movie. What did Crew do, and what was Jet going to have to do to repay Mr. McCabe? I kept my lips shut but silently willed someone to help clue me in.

  Jet’s lips were drawn into a tight line and his jaw muscles twitched. He narrowed his eyes at Mr. McCabe. “How much?”

  A sick smile spread across Mr. McCabe’s lips. Sort of like a hunter who discovers he has something caught in his trap. “Two hundred.”

  Jet scoffed as he shook his head. “I ain’t got that kind of money, and you know it.”

  Mr. McCabe shrugged. “Not my problem, boy. Your friend should learn to control his fingers.” He leaned in. “Before he finds himself without any.”

  A shiver rushed down my spine as I glanced up at Jet. Thankfully, Jet looked a lot calmer than I felt. I was completely unprepared for this rescue? Shakedown? I wasn’t sure what was happening.

  “You talk a big game, but we both know the reason you can’t and won’t call the cops. So let’s settle this like gentlemen instead of swindlers.” Jet reached into his back pocket and pulled out the wad of twenties I’d given him.

  Somehow—I wasn’t sure how—he made it look like there were very few bills in that pile as he handed five of them over.

  “I need the last one to get my kid sister some dinner, but you can have what’s left.” He motioned toward the bills.

  Mr. McCabe studied Jet’s hand. “Give me the last twenty and you’ll have yourself a deal.”

  Jet hesitated, and then, through slight-of-hand, slipped the last bill out of the pile as he handed it over—keeping the rest of the stack hidden. “You’re a crook, you know that?”

  Mr. McCabe greedily grabbed the money and shoved it into his
pocket. “And you need to find better friends. They keep costing you money.”

  Jet slipped his hand—and the rest of the twenties—into his back pocket. Then he shrugged. “Forgive me if I don’t take life advice from someone with your background.” He nodded toward the back. “We had a deal. Now let Crew go.”

  Mr. McCabe turned and spat tobacco into the trash and then shrugged. “Dumb kids,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a jumble of keys. After finding the right one, he slipped the key into the lock and turned it, exposing a small room filled to the brim with filing cabinets and a solid wood desk that took up entirely too much space.

  As he pushed open the door further, a baseball cap came into view. Crew—or that’s who I assumed it was—tipped his head up and smiled at Jet. “You came.”

  Jet didn’t respond as he stared at Crew. Then he waved toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Crew stood and sauntered out of the room. He winked at Mr. McCabe as he tapped him on his shoulder. “See you later,” he said as he walked past us and out the door.

  Jet was staring off into the distance. He looked as if he were carrying the world on his shoulders. I wanted to say something, anything, to help him feel better, but everything I thought of sounded lame.

  Truth was that any sort of support I could give him felt hollow. I didn’t know what he was going through. I’d never had a friend who needed me to pay his way out of trouble.

  Jet turned, glanced down at me for a moment, and then made his way to the door. “Let’s go,” he said.

  I smiled briefly at Mr. McCabe and followed Jet out of the store.

  As we stepped outside, Mr. McCabe called out, “Nice doing business with you,” before his sadistic laughter filled the air. The door slowly closed behind us, muffling the sound as it shut.

  Now free from that dingy place, I took in a deep breath and glanced around. Crew was standing at the far end of the parking lot. He would occasionally reach down and grab a rock, straightening up to throw it into the small patch of woods next to the store.

  Jet stormed over. Not sure what to do, I followed but kept my distance.