by A H S Salt
Scandalous
Past
About the author, A H S Salt, lives in Kirkintilloch, Scotland with her partner Tommy and their four sons. Having never done any writing before, she had what began as a story in her head, one that she couldn’t push aside no matter how much she tried, after finally putting pen to paper she had created the characters and finished the story. Having completed the story that, she kept thinking about every day and night she got the writing bug, she is currently working on a vampire novel and creating new ideas for the sequel to Scandalous Past.
Scandalous Past
A.H.S. SALT
Copyright © 2017 by A.H.S. SALT
The following is a work of fiction, any characters, places, names are the product of the author’s imagination, any resemblances to persons, dead or living is coincidental.
Previously published as Escaping His Love
All of the rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, transmitted or scanned in any form, digital or printed, without the written permission of the author A.H.S.SALT
Acknowledgments
I had no clue as to what it took to write a book, as I had never done anything of the sorts, no writing background what so ever. I had these characters in my head that would not leave me alone, so I decided to do something that I had never done before. I went with the flow and have enjoyed every step of the way.
I can only apologize to my partner Tommy for me completely ignoring him as I got sidetracked until I had completed the writing process but thank you for all the coffees you supplied at all hours for me.
A big thank you to Kristy Edwards for helping me along the way, guiding me through my writing journey, your words of encouragement are what made me believe in myself. I have gained a pen pal for life. One day we will get to go ghost hunting you wait and see. Thank you so much for helping me with this new chapter in my life
Scandalous
Past
A.H.S. SALT
Obsession can be deadly
SCANDALOUS PAST
CHAPTER 1
“Jessica, you better not be wearing your converse with a dress again!” My best friend Macey said with some irritation rising.
I turned, patiently glancing at the bedroom door, adjusting the backing on my diamond-encrusted earrings.
“Come on they’re comfy.” I groaned. Her natural curiosity led her to my bedroom. She strolled in, dressed to perfection in her little black dress - a lot shorter than it should be. It literally just covered her ass. She could give the Kardashians’ a run for their money, with her olive complexion and seductive bedroom eyes.
She stared at me, meeting my taunting gaze. I couldn’t help but smile as her eyes darted to my feet. “I’m kidding.” Putting my hands up to reassure her. “See, no converse – it was one time!” I sighed, rolling my eyes.
Reminding her of the time, I went comfort over fashion. Lazy was the word she used to describe my style that night.
My eyebrows raised “Do I have your approval?” I asked, slowly turning. Knowing, damn well she often disapproves of my wardrobe choices. She keeps up with all the latest trends and buys all the fashion magazines. Then there’s me - I wear what I like and what’s comfortable. A modern-day Misfit – that’s the word my best friend would use to describe me.
Macey’s amber gaze swept over me seductively.
I put my hands on my hips.
“If I didn’t know any better. I would say you were checking me out” I said with a grin splitting my face.
It was no secret that my best friend was sexually attracted to both men and women - she loved nothing more than pleasuring the same sex but preferred having relationships with men. Her dominant eyebrow rose, and the corner of her mouth quirked up.
“Baby girl, you know, if you weren’t my best friend. I would have had you in my bed long ago” Macey flashed an enigmatic smile as she walked towards me, extending her hand to offer me a glass of Prosecco.
I stifled a giggle “You’re so full of shit!” I scoffed, accepting the drink from her. I admired her confidence and her - I am who I am attitude in life. But we both knew there was a boundary line as best friends we simply would not cross. I loved her - but not enough to sleep with her and risk losing all the years of friendship we had gained.
“I’m not,” She said in a matter of fact tone “You’re sexy as fuck. Start owning it!”
“Yeah, yeah” I muttered, brushing off her compliment. My best friend was confident in the fact she was sexy and desirable to men.
Me? Not so much.
We both turned and faced the free-standing vintage mirror at the bottom of my bed. Giving ourselves one last opportunity to look over and admire our hair and makeup.
Macey had suggested turning my sleek and chic deep brown locks into wavy beach curls - the benefits of having a best friend that is a hairstylist.
It made a welcome change as I only ever leave it poker straight majority of the time. After several wardrobe changes and clothes scattered over my bedroom floor, I settled on my black halter neck mini dress, paired up with gold strappy heels.
I clocked Macey once again looking me up and down with an approving smile. I knew full well my outfit got her stamp of approval for once. If it wasn’t to her taste, she would have given me a rude ass comment or ransacked my wardrobe until she found me something to wear that she found appropriate - regardless if I wanted to wear it or not.
“Go on!” I coaxed, giving her a playful nudge “You know you wanna give me another compliment” I teased.
Macey shot me a look.
“You have literally tried on every piece of clothing that you own - can we go and do shots now?” She turned and strutted away, the thin black material hugging every inch of her skin producing the illusion it was painted on.
“And FYI” She glanced over her shoulder “You're drop-dead gorgeous” She tried to hide it, but I could see the ghost of a smile tease those plump lips of hers.
I remained tight-lipped from the second compliment of the night, secretly gloating inwardly.
I followed Macey into the living room and abandoned my glass down on the open space breakfast bar as we passed, deciding to reach for the bottle of Goldschlager that Macey had picked up earlier in the afternoon.
I rocked the fancy bottle back and forth, my eyes locked on to the tiny fragments of Gold leaves swirling in the bottle as if it was a storm in a snow globe.
“Anytime tonight,” Macey muttered petulantly, distracting me. I glanced up only to be met with a penetrating stare while extending her arm out impatiently.
“Anyone would think you had a problem!” I tossed out. I passed her the bottle over. She practically yanked it from me.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose “Can we just talk less ….and drink more!”
I eyed her sourly “What’s your problem?”
“Please, just drop it!” She pleaded. Only I didn’t.
“Somethings wrong” I pointed out “You don’t give compliments to me ever. And you most definitely hate it when I put an outfit together - so something has rattled your cage”
That much I knew.
She closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath “Nothing has rattled my cage” She stressed.
“Then why are you so cranky?” I demanded to know. She seemed to be rather irritated and I had no clue as to why. The coffee table was littered with make-up and magazines. So, I bent over and gathered them up allowing her time to answer my question. The damn gossip magazines that I didn’t care to read were becoming about as useful as placemats.
“I’m not cranky” She moaned “I’m just dealing with some shit” Struggling to open the bottle, she cursed under her breath, before finally twisting the cap open.
&nb
sp; I stood tall and narrowed my eyes at Macey.
“Like what?” I challenged. I waited, searching her face for answers. When she didn’t say anything I tried a different approach.
“Mace” Referencing her nickname showed a willingness to listen. She knew from past experience I would not drop the conversation until she told me what was bothering her.
She stared at me. A few seconds past.
So much sadness radiated in her gaze. It pained me to know something was upsetting her.
I frowned “What’s wrong?” She was beginning to worry me.
She cleared her throat and brushed a strand of her long black glossy hair behind her ear “I had a bust-up with this guy that I really like….”
Her eyes filled with tears.
Finally! I was getting somewhere. Getting Macey to open up about her feelings was like trying to get blood out of a stone.
More importantly - What guy? I had no idea there was a guy. Well, that’s a lie -There’s always a guy when it comes to my best friend, but never one worth a second thought. She preferred the - fuck then leave moto when it came to men. So to have her nearly crying over one had me baffled.
“What guy?” I rounded the table, more curious than ever. Plonking myself down “Do I know him?” I took the bottle from her hands and poured the shots myself before holding one up and waiting for her to take it. She glanced at me, opened her mouth as if she wanted to tell me something only she reached for the shot instead, downing it and hesitating to say anything else on the subject.
Or at least that’s what I thought.
She passed me the shot glass “Fuck this” She rushed in frustration “I refuse to cry over someone that wants to keep me hidden and out of sight” She reached for my shot and downed it quicker than the last one.
I sat in stunned silence. She grabbed the bottle ready to chug it.
“Whoa!” Abandoning the shot glass. I reached for the bottle, grabbing it back from her, spilling some in the process.
“No man is worth getting that upset over,” I said quickly.
The last thing she needed was being rushed to the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
I placed the bottle down and out of reach.
She sagged back farther into the couch, staring at the ceiling.
“What is wrong with me” She muttered “I don’t get upset over guys! Guys get upset over me!”
I shuffled back joining her, making myself more comfortable with my elbow resting on the back of the couch and my legs tucked under my bottom.
“Whoever this guy is, doesn’t deserve you Macey” I don’t even think she heard me. She was suddenly consumed with frustration. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes narrowed.
“Do you know what he said to me?” Her agitation growing by the second.
I opened my mouth to ask, only she carried on regardless.
“That I was too much of a risk. That he had a reputation to think of. That he couldn’t date someone like me unless I changed my ways” Her hands flew in all directions.
Macey spun around and faced me.
“What in the hell does that even mean?” She asked, almost as if I should know the answer.
I was speechless for once. Even though I had no clue as to who this guy was. I knew exactly what the guy meant. As much as I hated to admit it. My best friend had a bit of a reputation around town for being….easy.
Refusing to add fuel to the fire I opted for making her feel better. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, resting my head against hers.
“It means you deserve better,” I said softly, hoping to ease the emotional turmoil caused by someone that surprisingly had the capability of hurting my best friend from such harsh words. I had always known Macey to have thick skin. So to see her so upset had me known there was more to this guy than she was letting on.
“Come on” I sighed, giving her a comforting squeeze. “That’s enough guy talk for one night”
I leaned forward and reached for the bottle with every intention of keeping her mind off whoever had riled her up to start with.
“It’s time to get so drunk that you won’t even remember his name”
I thought about asking more questions on this guy but decided against it. It would only dampen her mood even more.
She grabbed the bottle from me.
“Your right” She smiled, eager to get another night kick-started. I nervously watched as she filled the shot glasses. I sighed, bracing myself. I knew I was going to have one hell of a hangover the next day.
Macey was on a mission.
A mission to forget her man troubles and get drunk.
Our weekends started off pretty much the same, since my rushed departure from a hostile relationship. Macey had been my rock through the ups and downs of the breakup. From Fridays through to Sundays it was; eat, sleep, dance, repeat. A night out would make me forget my troubles, my best friend would preach. It did for her - I had come to notice she used alcohol to numb the pain of losing her father.
Something that she refuses to talk about.
With our hands on the shots, we began our Saturday night with yet another drinking game - one that Macey always manages to win.
Her tolerance for alcohol is beyond me. I still don’t know how she can drink alcohol, the way she does and not get drunk. I have always been unable to keep up with her.
My best friend held her tiny shot glass in the air.
“Drink if you plan on getting laid!” Macey giggled, without hesitation, she downed her shot as if she was an alcoholic falling off the wagon after years of sobriety.
“Come on” I moaned “We can’t all be sluts like you!” I added, as she quickly refilled her shot glass.
She turned and grinned “Okay, okay” She reached for another shot and slowly and carefully held it up.
“Drink if you wish you were a slut like me!” Macey said with a playful smile.
Knowing that was my cue to grab a chance of a shot, I took the shot glass from her hand and downed the liquor. The spicy cinnamon aromas engulfed my throat, forcing me to clench my cheeks together as I tried to keep it down, pacing myself for another.
“Again?” Macey asked, impatiently tapping her well-manicured stiletto nails on the table, almost as if she was irritated at me for not indulging as quickly as she was able to do so.
“Bring it on!” I said smugly, passing my shot glass over towards her, willing to give her a run for her money.
“Oh, game on!” Macey announced before quickly downing a sneaky shot.
I pushed her playfully. “Hey, that’s cheating!” Laughter erupted between us. I filled my tiny shot glass and gulped another. My throat felt like it literally was on fire - but I refused to crumble first.
~
Our conversation went from men to work. I didn’t mind though, anything to keep her mind off guys.
“So, when do you get the keys to the salon?” Macey asked, looking at me as she passed me another shot. Distracting herself from her troubles by allowing me to vent out about mine. The salon I had always dreamed of owning was becoming a reality all thanks to my dad.
“My dad reckons it will be ready in a couple of weeks. He’s enjoying being hands-on with everything and pleased that I agreed for the salon to be close to him and the hospital he works at.” I gulped the Goldschlager and this time I didn’t flinch when the burning notes hit the back of my throat.
Macey had sensed I was reluctant to say anything else. Approaching the subject slowly, she rested her elbows on her knees, leaning closer.
“For someone who’s about to open up her own business. Why the sad face?” She studied me with narrowed eyes.
She was always willing to allow me to vent my worries out to her but when I asked her to open up to me she would change the subject. Shut it down completely.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful that my dad was taking the time and effort to help me have my very own salon. I knew deep down, he would always be checking in, to make sure tha
t I was safe from my ex who had caused me nothing but humiliation.
In need of a little Dutch courage, I reached for a shot. I sighed, glancing down at more of the tiny Gold leaves gathering at the bottom of my shot glass before quickly downing it.
My lips fused together for a few seconds before my chest expanded with a deep breath. The hot spicy liquor lingered longer than I anticipated.
“He only wants the salon close to the hospital so he can come by and check on me in-between shifts” I finally managed to say through the burning notes.
Tears gathered and stung my eyes. And not from the drink.
Somehow our night had started with both of us becoming tearful.
Not a great start to the night.
Macey took the empty shot glass from my hand and placed it on the table before clasping her hands over mine.
“Oh, Jess. I’m sure that’s not his only reason”
Filled with so much sadness, I looked to my best friend.
“Mace” I croaked “He looks at me like I’m this delicate, broken daughter.” I can still remember the sheer panic that rose in his grey eyes the night I told him I needed his help.
She shook her head “That’s not true” She assured “You’re his daughter - he would do anything to keep you safe. He’s only looking out for you” With the pads of her thumbs she wiped away my tears.
“Come on” she croaked “Big girls don’t cry” Macey was close to crying herself as she recited a line from our favorite Fergie song: Big girls don’t cry.
Maybe it was the alcohol turning us into a blubbering mess. Or maybe, we both had issues that needed to be tackled head-on. Either way, it was unsettling.
After my dad managed to bury what could have exposed me in such a nasty manner for all to bear witness to, he insisted on making sure I had something to keep me occupied. The salon. That I always dreamed of owning was going to be a gift from him to me. He knew all too well, being holed up in my new apartment, living in fear of my ex, was not something I was prepared to do. The salon is his way of keeping a close eye on me, without having to find an excuse to do so. He also reminded me that going back to my day job at the large department store where I worked at a makeup counter was out of the question.
