by Ava Harrison
There’s a void from where Bailey should be.
Once I’m dressed, I leave my apartment and head to the club. Hours have passed, and there shouldn’t be anyone there, just the people who work in the office. Maybe Carter. It only takes me about thirty minutes to get there, and when I do, the main room is empty. When I walk up the stairs, I hear voices.
“She was acting all cagey when I asked what she meant,” one voice says.
“Cagey how?”
“She said she deserved it . . . but when I said what, all she said was it was her fall from grace, whatever that means.”
“Do you think she was talking about Bailey . . . ?”
With that, I push the door open and storm into the room. They both are staring at me when I barge in. Their mouths are open, and their eyes are wide. They didn’t expect me here today, clearly. When neither of them speaks, I step closer. I narrow my eyes and drill them with my stare.
“Who exactly said what? And what does this have to do with Bailey?”
It’s Carter who speaks first. Stepping closer so I can see his face.
“Monica apparently made a comment . . .”
“Monica can talk all she wants. Nothing happened.”
“Not about that,” he says.
I cock my head. “Then what exactly did she say about Bailey?”
“She implied that the bitch got what was coming to her, and it was karma.”
“Karma?”
“That’s the thing that doesn’t make sense. When Amanda asked what she meant, she didn’t answer but was talking cryptically about Bailey’s much-deserved fall from grace.”
“She’s a bitch, but I don’t understand why you are talking about this.”
Amanda steps forward. “It wasn’t what she said . . . it’s how she said it.”
I step closer, standing right in front of her. “And how exactly did she say it?”
“As if she knew something I didn’t.”
I nod my head and then leave them to their gossip. Heading back down to the bar, I walk over to the VIP room. This is the first time I’ve been here since the night of Bailey and Reese’s accident. It brings back too many awful memories. While I was upstairs, she was down here drinking. Why hadn’t I followed her right away?
Because I thought she left. It never dawned on me that she would be here drinking.
The words Amanda said keep turning over in my mind. I’m not sure what to make of them.
With a shake of the head, I head into the room with the security cameras. I fire them up for that day.
I watch as Bailey storms down the stairs, then finds Reese and pulls him to the bar.
I switch to the VIP camera and watch as she proceeds to get drunk. Nothing on any of my cameras shows Bailey getting high or taking anything else.
Too bad I don’t have any cameras behind the curtains of the VIP private rooms.
I rewind the camera, looking for anything from Reese.
Anything at all.
But I still see nothing.
The only thing I notice in the video is Monica’s smug face. She looks like the cat that ate the canary.
I zoom in.
Watching her as she smiles a cool smile at Bailey. She’s gloating. She’s feeding into Bailey’s insecurity, and with every smile, Bailey drinks more.
I continue to watch over and over again.
Torturing myself, I watch as Monica goads Bailey until Bailey can hardly walk.
As much as I want to be angry with Bailey for getting drunk and succumbing to the pressure from Reese, I can see that this is also my fault as well as Monica’s.
On my fifth or sixth pass on the video, I notice something I never saw before.
Fuck.
I press stop.
I didn’t just see what I thought I did.
Did I? My fist clenches.
I press record on the computer and then send the information to my email address.
Once it’s completed recording, I storm out of the room.
There is only one person who can explain to me what the fuck is going on.
Monica.
53
Drew
I don’t waste any time going to the address we have in her file, and before I know it, my fist is banging on the door.
“Hold on,” Monica shouts from inside. I expect her to say more as I hear her approach, but she swings the door open. “Drew.” She smiles at me.
The smile is a seductive one. She thinks I’m here for her, but I’m only here for answers.
Answers only she can give.
“Come in,” she coos.
I’m still standing in the hallway, but I know I won’t get her to answer shit from here, so when she steps back, I enter.
I walk into her apartment, and I hear the door shut behind me.
My shoes echo on the wood floors until I’m standing in a tiny living room.
She looks around the space. It’s not clean. It’s actually a fucking mess.
“Sorry about—” She gestures to the pile of clothes on the couch. “If I knew you were coming . . .” She trails off.
“I’m not here to talk about clothes.”
She places her hand on her hip, her posture going rigid at the sound of my voice.
“Why are you here, Drew?” she asks, taking a step back.
“Why don’t you tell me why you think I’m here?”
Her eyes are wide. She’s shocked, but when her mouth trembles, I know I was right.
“I-I don’t know what you mean,” she stutters.
“Now that’s funny. Because I think you know exactly what I mean.”
Her face grows pale, and I use that moment to whip out my phone from my back pocket.
Now it’s my turn to approach her. She at least has the decency to appear scared. I would never hurt a girl, but ruin her . . . ?
That I can certainly do.
“I told you, you were done. To stay out of my life.”
“Drew—”
I lift my hand to silence her. “Do not speak.” I start to scroll through my phone, and then I hand it to her. “Watch this video, and then and only then, think long and hard on how you are going to respond.”
Reluctantly, she takes my phone in her hand. When she sees the video I have filmed, her hand begins to shake. She is quick to rein in her reaction, though.
“I don’t know what you think this is. Your drug addict girlfriend wanted to get drunk . . . I did exactly what she asked for.”
I nod my head and take my phone from her hand. “So that’s how you want to play it? Okay.” I move to turn.
“Where are you going?”
“To the police.”
“What?”
“Well, according to this video, a crime took place at my club, and since you have nothing to say . . .” I turn and walk toward the door.
“Wait.”
I don’t turn around. She still is speaking to my back.
“It—I—She deserved it!” she shouts, and that makes me finally look at her.
I lift the phone toward her. The image on the screen zoomed in. It’s clear as day the exact moment it happens.
The moment in which Monica drugged her.
I smile at her. A sardonic smile. She blanches, her mouth opening and shutting to figure out what to say. She’s trying to come up with a plausible excuse for what is depicted on the video as clear as day.
On the video, she slips drugs into both the drinks. It’s not clear what she puts inside it, but I know its cocaine and pain killers from the tox report.
Now to figure out what to do about her.
Was she trying to kill Bailey and Reese?
“You slipped drugs in their drinks . . .” At my words, she does something I don’t expect. She stands up straighter, taller, and she places her hands on her hips.
“I did.” Her answer shocks me, and her lack of remorse even more.
“Very well, I’ll be handing over the tapes to the authorities.”
“Don’t you want to know why?” She smirks.
“I can’t give a flying fuck why.”
“She took you from me.” She looks delusional. How had I not seen how crazy she was. “Then, like fate, you gave me the perfect out. You said you would test every employee. I knew this was my shot to get rid of her for good. It was like all the stars aligned in the sky. I was finally going to be able to get rid of her. You were the prize. That night, I knew it was a losing battle, so I upped my game.” She smirks.
“You could have killed them.”
“Hardly. Death was never the endgame. My goal was to ruin her. For you to see her for what she was. Then, once you fired her, I could have you all to myself again.”
“Well, it didn’t work.”
“Didn’t it?” She lifts her brow. “You shipped her off. She’s gone.”
“But what you don’t know about Bailey is that she is the strongest person I know. Much stronger than you or even me. She will come out of this on top, and guess what? I’ll be there waiting for her. Because I love her.”
And with that, phone in hand, I walk out of her apartment.
54
Drew
I’m a man possessed.
I don’t even stop to talk to the police or anything, instead I send the incriminating evidence to my attorney and tell him to handle it. This isn’t about me anymore. It’s time I do what I should have done a week ago and talk to her.
It doesn’t take me long to get on my family’s plane and head to the treatment center. When I arrive, I don’t even bother to check if I can see her. She needs to know the truth, and I need to grovel.
It feels like forever since I’ve held her. As soon as I park the rental car, I head into the building and straight to the front desk. I walk with purpose. I’m not one to be trifled with.
“Can I help you, sir?” asks a woman behind a desk.
“I’m here to see Bailey Jameson.”
“Visiting hours—”
I hold my hand up and cut her off. What this woman doesn’t realize is my donations to this place keep it running. I have spent a fortune to make this the sanctuary what it is after Alexa died.
“I’m here to speak to Dr. Roberts.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
I take a deep breath. This woman has done nothing to me other than prolong my seeing Bailey, but that’s not her fault. She’s only doing her job. The truth is, I should have called first.
“Please tell her Drew Lawson is here to speak with her.”
Her eyes narrow, but she nods as she picks up the phone.
“Dr. Roberts, there is a Drew Lawson who wishes to speak to you.” She’s quiet for a minute before her head bobs. “Yes, yes. I understand. Very well. Of course, ma’am.”
When she hangs up the phone, she looks up at me. “Dr. Roberts is ready to speak with you if you can follow me.” She stands and walks around from behind the desk.
Her heels click on the marble floor as she leads us through a door and into another room. This room I have been to before. It’s floor-to-ceiling glass and faces the gardens.
“If you can just take a seat, she will be right in.”
I nod before sitting. “Thank you,” I say, as she walks out the door.
In silence now, I try to figure out what I will say to Bailey. The sound of the door opening stops my train of thought.
I turn to see Dr. Roberts approaching. “Mr. Lawson. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know. I’m here to see Bailey.”
Her eyes go wide. “That’s not possible. She’s only been here for a week. Although she is allowed visitors—”
“Please,” I say. I lift my hand and run it through my hair. “I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t imperative.”
She looks at me. My appearance must be alarming because she inclines her head. “I will see what I can do. I will ask her if she wants to see you.” She turns to leave.
I stand when she’s out the door and start to pace.
My feet stalk back and forth across the space. I start to count my steps before I hear the door open a few minutes later.
I expect to see Bailey, but when I see the nurse, my heart drops.
“I’ll take you to see her.” She smiles at me. I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I’m holding.
55
Bailey
The door to my room opens, and Dr. Roberts walks in.
I’m instantly on edge. I’m not sure why, but something seems different about her posture.
“Bailey, this is highly unorthodox, and I understand if you say no, but . . .” She pauses, which makes my stomach tighten. “Drew Lawson is here to speak with you.”
Drew.
Drew is here to talk to me.
My heart hammers in my chest. It feels like it will explode. The doctor is speaking to me, but I can’t hear her words.
I take a deep breath. It’s one of the things I have been learning to do since coming here, and once I’m present again, I address the doctor.
“I’ll see him.”
I’m not sure what he has to say, but it must be important.
“Would you like to follow me?” she asks.
“Lead the way.” I try to joke, making light of the situation. Maybe then it wouldn’t feel like I was drowning in nerves.
Inhaling deeply, I will myself to calm, and when she finally leads me to an outdoor patio, I think I might faint when I see his back.
He’s facing the grounds, but when I open the door and step outside, he turns to face me.
He looks the same, but different.
Handsome as always, but now he looks almost unkept. Disheveled. He looks tired too. Dark circles and shadows adorn his eyes. His five o’clock shadow is almost a beard. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days, either.
“Drew.” I step closer. “What are you doing here?”
I don’t mean to come off aggressive, but he said goodbye. I said goodbye.
“I needed to talk to you.” He looks rattled, and I can’t help the way my heart squeezes.
He gestures to the table, and I make my way closer and sit.
He sits across from me, which feels too close right now. I’m a live, exposed wire.
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, not understanding. He already explained what happened with Monica . . . unless…
“What? I don’t—”
“I’m sorry for doubting you. I’m sorry for everything.”
“You’re making no sense.”
He stands and starts pacing. Now I’m even more on edge.
“I-fuck—I don’t even know how to say this . . . You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Drew—”
“No, listen. You didn’t do anything wrong, Bailey. You didn’t get high.”
“But my tox—”
“You were drugged,” he blurts out.
Everything around me goes numb. The sounds start to fade in and out. If I wasn’t sitting, I would be afraid I’d pass out.
That makes no sense.
Why would anyone . . . ? No, Drew is wrong.
“Bailey, Monica drugged you.”
His words stab me. “I—” I stop myself, not able to form words.
“She wanted to get back at you. She said it was your fault.”
“What was my fault?”
“She-she thought you took me away from her. This was my fault for hiring her. I didn’t realize how unhinged she was. When I announced the mandatory drug test, she thought she could finally get rid of you. She decided to spike your drink, knowing full well would I not only fire you, but I would also dump you.”
My whole body starts to shake, and I’m not sure what to think about this.
“Bailey, do you understand what I’m saying? You didn’t do drugs. Not willingly, at least. You don’t need to be here.”
He walks toward me. His hand reaches out and touches mine. “You can come home with me.”
I
stare at where our hands are touching. It would be so easy. But all my life, I have been doing easy.
There is only one answer I can give him.
“No.”
“You don’t want to see me, I understand. I didn’t believe in you.”
“It’s not that, Drew.” I move my hand away from his. Then I take a step back. “I want to go home with you. I want it so badly. I wish I could.”
“But don’t you understand? You can.”
“I can’t. I might not have taken the drugs, but it doesn’t change anything. I got drunk. I’m an addict who got drunk, and it’s only a matter of time before it escalates. That is on me. I made a reckless decision. On me again. Sure, maybe I didn’t take the coke or the Vicodin, but it was only a matter of time. When you hurt me, I searched out a high. I’ve taken the easy way out all my life, but it’s time I get the help I need. The help I should have gotten a long time ago. It’s time I put myself first and heal.”
He looks at me with large, sad eyes, but he nods his understanding.
“I’m proud of you.” He moves closer and wraps his arms around me. “I hope this isn’t goodbye.”
“It is for now.”
I kiss him on the lips and turn and walk away. A heavy weight is lifted, but it’s not enough. I still have a lot to heal inside me.
But I need to do that alone.
And I’m finally ready to.
56
Bailey
Three weeks later . . .
I anxiously watch the door, tapping my toe against the ceramic tile floor. The sound ricochets off the walls as I wait for Harper to arrive. Thirty days. I can’t believe thirty days have passed so quickly. I told her I didn’t need her to fly to Arizona to pick me up. We flew out here to have time to be alone and talk, but she wants to get here and get me home this time. I think it’s silly, as I can fly home myself. I’m a big girl, but in usual Harper fashion, she insisted, and I love her for it. As strong as I am, I still welcome the comfort and strength her presence grants me.
I hear the faint sound of the wood from the door creak, and I jump up and run forward, leaping into Harper’s arms. God, I hope it’s her, or I just made a huge ass of myself.
