Havoc: Mayhem Series #4

by Jamie Shaw

  I slept with Danica’s ex-boyfriend last night. I had his fingers and his tongue and his sex deep inside me, and every second of it was bliss. He made me feel things that I’ve never felt in my life before, and that I doubt I could ever feel for any man again. And I can’t help feeling like it’s written all over me—like as soon as I walk inside, she’ll be able to see his kisses on my neck, his fingerprints all over my skin.

  I fiddle with my thumbs and fiddle with my phone, until I’m typing a text to Rowan just to keep from fiddling anymore.

  Me: I’m sitting in front of my apartment.

  Rowan: Any particular reason why?

  Me: Scared to face the Hell Beast.

  Rowan: Want to spend the night here?

  I stare at the lit windows of the home I share with my cousin, knowing I can’t run forever. She’s in there, she’s awake, and I’ll have to face her sooner or later.

  Me: No. But if you don’t hear from me tomorrow, find out where she dumped my body.

  With forced bravado, I pocket my phone and order my feet up the entry stairs. Then I wrap my hand around the knob and push it open as quietly as humanly possible. I’m hoping Danica will be in her room and that I’ll be able to sneak into mine, but her dark eyes zero in on me like a heat-seeking missile that’s found its target.

  “Did you know Mike’s band shot their video yesterday?” she accuses at me as she launches off the couch, her teeth snapping.

  “Huh?”

  It’s all I can manage. She’s invading my bubble, dressed in a tight black mini dress with her hair and makeup looking professionally done, and I know she wants to tear me to pieces. I realize she must have shown up at the clearing only to find it empty. Maybe there was a cleanup crew picking up all the trash—and Danica standing there in her dress.

  I want to feel bad for her, but it’s hard when she’s standing in my face like a death eater about to devour me whole. With panic surging through me, I respond with the first thing that comes to mind, which is definitely not the detailed excuse Dee instructed me to go with. “No!”

  Danica narrows her eyes. “Oh really? Then where were you last night? Did you even come home?”

  “I was on a date.” The lie comes as a surprise even to me, and Danica’s eyes seethe with suspicion.

  “A date with my boyfriend?” she hisses.

  It takes everything in me to not shout that he’s not her fucking boyfriend, that he’s mine, but I conquer the urge and hiss back at her. “With a guy from school. I spent the night at his place just to get away from you for a night.”

  Danica’s face contorts into an ugly mask of disgust. “Wow, you really are a whore.”

  “Takes one to know one,” I snap, and I stand there waiting for her to punch me in the mouth. Her fists are clenching at her sides, her eyes narrowed like a viper’s.

  “Prove it,” she demands as I quiver with a mix of fear and impatience.

  “Prove what?”

  “Call him. Speakerphone. Fucking prove it, or get the hell out of my apartment.”

  I hide the panic that squeezes in my veins as I try to think of some way to get out of this. But Danica’s narrowed eyes and her squared hips tell me that she’s not going to buy any excuses I try on her. With my heart pounding in my chest, I pick up my phone, and I find a number.

  “You vixen!” Leti answers, and I jump in to stop him from spilling last night’s secrets.

  “Leti, my paranoid cousin thinks I was at some video shoot with her ex-boyfriend last night.” Danica’s nose reddens with anger, but I press on with my veiled explanation. “Will you please tell her where I was so she’ll get off my back?”

  My fairy godfriend pauses for a moment that feels like an eternity, but then he effortlessly comes to my rescue. “Are you cheating on me?”

  “No!” I play along. “She just thinks—”

  “I take you to the fanciest restaurant in town,” Leti pretend-complains. “I open your door and pull out your chair and give you a gorgeous bouquet of apricot amaryllis—” I hold my breath, wishing he would have just settled on roses. “I treat you like my queen, and you’re fucking cheating on me?”

  Danica’s expression is something between suspicious and satisfied. I can tell she’s enjoying the fact that she’s causing problems in my fictional relationship, and I press on.

  “I’m not seeing anyone else! That’s my whole point here!” I turn away from Danica for show. “But for the record, it’s not like you ever asked me to be exclusive anyway.”

  “Well, I’m fucking asking, Hailey. I can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. You’re special to me, girl. I want to spoil you and treat you like the princess you are to me.”

  I nearly laugh when I glance over my shoulder and see the jealousy that flashes across Danica’s face, and I silently vow to hug the life out of Leti next time I see him.

  “Are you satisfied?” I whisper-yell at my cousin, and she glares at me but lets me turn off the speakerphone and walk away. In my room, I walk to the far corner and slide down onto the floor.

  “You really are my fairy godfriend.”

  Leti laughs. “She bought it?”

  “I think she’s even jealous.”

  He laughs harder, and I smile as I realize I can’t wait to get to know him better. My circle of friends in this town keeps growing and growing, and I don’t want to leave. It only cements my resolve to continue putting up with Danica, to continue trying to stay one step ahead in her game.

  “I didn’t even get to use my best line,” he pouts.

  “Use it.”

  “Okay, are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  I grin and tell him I am, and Leti clears his throat.

  “Ever since I adopted that Saint Berdoodle from you at the pound, girl, I’ve wanted to get all up in your pound, kna wh’am sayin’?”

  “Why are you talking like a gangster?” I ask through my laughter, and Leti snickers.

  “’Cuz I’ve gone hard for you, girl.”

  We both laugh like immature ten-year-olds until another call rings on the line, and I pull the phone away from my ear to see Dee-licious-andra’s name on my phone. A hot blush settles under my skin, and I press the phone back to my ear, whispering, “Hey, Leti, Mike’s calling so I’ve got to go. Thanks for covering for me.”

  “Anytime, Hailey-rella.”

  I take a deep breath before I answer Mike’s call, and then I accept it and find my voice. “Hey.”

  “I miss you.”

  Three words in his smooth baritone, and butterflies whirl in my stomach.

  “You’ve only been gone a few hours,” I point out, wishing I had an ice pack to press against my heated cheeks.

  “I know. Tomorrow is going to suck.”

  I close my eyes and smile, wishing I didn’t have to worry about the volume of my voice as I talked to him. I wish my walls didn’t have ears.

  “Did you get a ride back to your car?” he asks, and I tell him Rowan drove me. I even tell him about having pancakes with her at IHOP, but I don’t tell him about the serious conversation we had afterward.

  I ask him how his flight was, and he tells me the band got recognized for the first time in the airport. I ask how Canada is, and he tells me about the freezing weather. I ask how preparation for the show is going, and he tells me they just finished sound check and that kids are already lining up outside.

  “What about you?” he cuts in before I can ask anything else. “How was your day?”

  I think back to the pit bulls I basically signed death warrants for, and my stomach sinks. “Fine,” I say, knowing Mike has to go onstage soon. He doesn’t have time to hear about it, and even if he did, I wouldn’t want to burden him.

  “Why are you lying?”

  “It’s a long story,” I confess. “I know you don’t have the time to—”

  “I’ve always got time for you, Hailey. And if not, I’ll make time. Now talk to me.”

  Something in his voi
ce undoes me, and I unbottle the emotions I’ve been storing all day. I share it all with him—the hatred I feel for the dogfighters, the hope I have for the puppies and some of the younger dogs, the overwhelming sadness I feel for the dogs we couldn’t save. I tell him about the dreams I have about the animals who never leave the shelter, and Mike listens to it all. He listens to the negative and helps me focus on the positive, asking how I’m going to rehabilitate the young dogs, and by the time I’m finished unloading the weight that’s been on my shoulders since I walked into that shelter this afternoon, I actually feel . . . better. I feel like I might actually be able to sleep tonight.

  “Thank you,” I say as I crawl under my covers. It’s nearing ten o’clock, which means it will soon be time for him to go onstage, if he’s not already late. “I feel better. You can go be a rock star now.”

  “What if I don’t want to go?” Mike asks, and I smile as I pull my covers up to my chin.

  “I’m pretty sure you have to.”

  We both linger on the line, and I force myself to ask, “Can you do me a favor though?”

  “Name it.”

  “Send me a picture?”

  “Of what?”

  “You,” I answer timidly. “I don’t have one.”

  I know I could go online. I’m sure there are plenty of pictures, videos, and interviews. Mike is famous, and I don’t doubt I could find a picture of him that would make my heart melt.

  But I want one for me. I want a smile from him that’s just for me.

  He agrees to send me one, and he wishes me sweet dreams. I reluctantly hang up since I know he really does have to go, and a few seconds later, a text dings on my phone.

  I open the photo and smile at my screen as I stare into his warm brown eyes. He’s backstage at an obviously packed show, judging from all the people I see buzzing around in the background, but his soft smile is just for me. It touches his eyes and makes my heart swell, and I hold the phone to my chest as I fall asleep that night, wishing he wasn’t so far away.

  Chapter 38

  Mike sends me a photo every day for almost a week. We even try to video chat a couple times, but the connection is always spotty since he’s constantly on the go, so eventually, we give up trying. He flew to Beijing last night, so now we’re on a twelve-hour time difference. He left me a voice mail before I woke up this morning, wishing me a good day and telling me how much he missed waking up next to me. My heart ached as I listened to his voice, knowing the sun was setting where he was, even as it rose outside my window.

  The memory of his fingers in my hair begins to feel like a fading dream, but I try to convince myself that his voice is enough. I miss the curve of his smile and the scent of his skin and how messy his hair looks first thing in the morning. I miss sitting next to him on his couch. I miss stealing glances across the room. I miss the warmth of his lips and the softness of his touch, and my heart aches with the loss of all these things even though I really only had them for a heartbeat in time.

  Yet in spite of it all—in spite of the wound in my chest that reopens every time we hang up the phone—I feel myself falling even more for him. The distance between us gets greater and greater, but each passing day brings us closer and closer. He’s the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, and I’ve never been so excited for anything as I am for the moment his name flashes onto my phone.

  “Let me use your phone,” Danica orders on Friday after my morning classes, and I glance up from my spot on the loveseat to see her motioning for me to toss my phone to her on the couch.

  “Use your own phone.”

  “I can’t,” she complains as she continues holding out her hand. Her feet are propped on the coffee table, her toes spread with foam separators as her glittery silver polish dries. We’ve been sitting together in silence for the last half hour while she painted her nails and I worked on a mountain of homework, since I’m sick and tired of imprisoning myself in my nine-by-ten bedroom just to avoid her.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because Mike blocked my number. Now let me use yours.”

  I make a face and go back to ignoring her, since that is so not happening for so many reasons. For one, when she put in his number, he would show up as Dee-licious-andra and I’d be royally screwed. And for two, I hate her guts and there’s no fucking way in hell I’m going to give her my phone so she can try to win back my boyfriend.

  “Oh, come on,” she argues. “You’re seriously going to be like that?”

  I strangle my pencil as I try to solve organic synthesis problems. I used to think that hell must be filled with chemistry textbooks and structural formulas. Now, I’m convinced it must be filled with a million Danicas painting their toes on our communal coffee table.

  She sighs dramatically and lowers her hand. “I can’t believe you’re still mad at me.”

  I gape at her, and she rolls her eyes.

  “It’s been like two whole weeks, Hailey. What are you going to do, stay mad at me forever?”

  “You called me a whore,” I remind her. “You trashed my room. You flipped my desk. You blackmailed me. You broke my computer—”

  “Do you need me to buy you a new computer?” she asks. “Is that what this is about?”

  I swear I see red. My mouth is hanging open, but Danica just sits there staring at me like I’m the one who has problems.

  “If you need me to buy you a new computer, Hailey—”

  “I don’t need you to buy me a new fucking computer!”

  “Then what is your problem?” She sits forward and plants her feet on the floor. “You’re already dating someone else, so what are you still so mad about?”

  I glare daggers at the numbers in my textbook, until eventually Danica asks, “Is he hot?”

  I scowl up at her, and she tries disarming me with a smile.

  “Your new guy, is he hot?” When I don’t answer, she pouts. “Come on, Hailey. I know you’re mad that I went so crazy, but can you blame me? My boyfriend got a crush on you while he was sleeping with me.”

  It’s like a slap in the face, and the worst thing is that I don’t even think she meant for it to be. She was just stating a fact. An observation. A truth.

  Mike was sleeping with her when he had feelings for me.

  “Did you do it on purpose?” she asks, and I focus on the way her brow turns in, the unguarded way her eyes study me as she waits for my answer.

  “No,” I tell her honestly, not needing her to elaborate any further. I didn’t make Mike fall for me on purpose—I was too busy trying to keep myself from falling for him. I never considered him developing feelings for me even within the realm of possibility. I’m still not sure why he did.

  Danica nods to herself, focusing on an invisible spot on the coffee table, and then she looks up at me again, “I should hate him, right?”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I feel like I’m slipping over a waterfall, drowning as I fall.

  Danica props her feet back up on the table and begins applying a second coat of polish. “I wish I could, but I don’t. I just want him. I messed things up with him, twice, and I want another shot.”

  “Why?” I ask, and when she questions me with her eyes, I clarify, “Why him?”

  “Because I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” she answers simply, and I give my attention back to my textbook. Or I pretend to, at least. There’s a feeling of wrongness smothering me like a woolen blanket in the dead of summer, and I don’t know how to kick it off.

  “Can I ask you something honest?” Danica says, and I reluctantly look up at her. “What do you think made him like you?”

  My throat dries, and I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, you have to have some idea,” Danica persists. “I’m guessing he liked the whole ‘nice girl’ thing, but do you also think he found you attractive?” Her gaze skips to my crazy hair for just a second before resting on my face.

  “I really don’
t know.”

  My cousin sighs. “Can you come shopping with me tonight? I need to get a new number, and I want to look for an outfit that will make him remember why he fell for me in the first place.” She lowers one finished foot and concentrates on the other. “I was too busy obsessing over the band’s music video, and I think he felt neglected. And then you showed up with that damn care basket, and—” She dismisses the past with a wave of her hand. “I just need to make him remember why he loves me.”

  “I’m heading to the shelter at three,” I tell her, thanking God that I keep a busy schedule.

  “Then tomorrow?”

  “I—”

  “Look, Hailey,” Danica interrupts, pausing her toenail painting to level me with her stare. “I’m going to be really honest with you, okay? We both know I only moved to this town because I wanted to get back with Mike. You know that, I know that . . . My parents probably even know that too, but they’re willing to ignore it as long as I stay in school. But the thing is, if I’m not with Mike, I don’t want to stay in school. There’s no reason for me to stay in this stupid town.”

  She lets that sink in before she continues, and I know where she’s going even before she goes there.

  “And we also both know why my dad jumped at the chance to pay for you to come here too. He thinks you’ll help keep me in line, be a positive influence. You’re here to babysit me, Hailey, but if I’m not here, there’s no reason for you to be here either.”

  That suffocating blanket over my face grows heavier and thicker and hotter.

  “I’m not blackmailing you into helping me, Hailey. I’m just telling the truth.” She swipes the tiny brush over her little toe while I tumble over Niagara, entombed in my blanket. “So will you go shopping with me tomorrow?”

  “I guess I have no choice.”

  When Mike calls me an hour later, it’s one o’clock in the morning in Beijing. I pick up the phone, still trying to recover from my talk with Danica, and I spend the first few minutes of the call barely saying a word.