by Ava Harrison
I hate the dress.
“Please excuse me. I see someone I need to speak to. Take Bailey for a dance, Drew. Enjoy yourself.” I watch as she gracefully glides away, and I turn to Drew.
“Are you going to take me dancing, or what?” I wink at him.
The corners of his eyes crinkle as his mouth curves into a wicked smirk. “You sure you want to dance, Bailey? I can think of something better to do.” His pupils are huge as he speaks, and I’m sure that if I gave him the word, he would whisk me right out of here without a backward glance. But being here, looking at the dance floor, I want to dance with him.
More than anything.
“No way, Drew. I want to see all the moves you have.”
With that, he pulls me along with him onto the dance floor. When his hands wrap around me, an electrifying shudder reverberates throughout my body. We sway together in perfect synchrony, so close it’s as if we’ve fused our bodies together. Soft fingers tilt my chin up until our eyes meet. He gleams brilliantly at me, shimmering flashes of an azure fire. I’m completely entranced by him.
He studies me closely. His steady gaze is boring into me as he tilts his head down to capture my mouth. The kiss is gentle, but it’s the way he looks at me that’s different. As if we’ve crossed an invisible line, and neither one of us is turning back. Pulling away, he whispers against my lips.
“You’re delicious.” Then he reclaims my mouth again. Shivers of emotions radiate through me. I’m falling for this man and fast.
“Well, well, well, Drew, what do we got here? You two are dating now,” he grits out through clenched teeth.
Pulling away from Drew, I look up to see Reese. I haven’t seen him since that night. He’s staring at me, scrutinizing my every move. My posture tightens, and suddenly I feel like I’m back in the bar drinking with him.
Crossing my arms in front of my body, I turn closer into Drew’s arms. He squeezes me into him protectively, and the muscles in my back loosen.
“Reese, I guess it was too much to ask not to have to see you again.” His words are curt as he places a gentle kiss on my forehead. Reese’s eyes widen as his brow knits together.
“So are you guys a thing now. Really, Drew? A cocktail waitress? I know you have no standards, but isn’t even that beneath you? But I guess you don’t care about that.” His eyes bore into me, anger glowing from them. “It’s how she looks that matters to you.”
Then he lifts his hand and swipes at his nose. Narrowing my eyes, I can see a slight film of white residue surrounding his nostril. He’s high as a kite, that much is obvious.
“Let’s go.” Drew takes my hand in his and turns to Reese. “I’ll talk to you when you’re not fucked up out of your mind.” Then he pulls us away.
He continues to drag me with him until we’re in a dimly lit alcove behind a marble column. Drew is taking deep, ragged breaths, his body shaking from the effort and the anger rolling off him in waves.
Gently, my fingers caress his. “It’s okay, Drew. I know he was high.”
“It’s not okay. His—”
I lean up and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Not everyone wants to be saved, Drew.”
His mouth opens against mine, his tongue seeking entry. When he pulls back, he smirks.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re good for me, Bae. You calm me. You make me less angry. You make me happy.”
“I-You make—”
He stops me mid-sentence, silencing me with an earth-shattering kiss. When he finally pulls back, I stand there in utter euphoria. I don’t want to ever come down from this high. This feeling, whatever it is, is more potent than any drug.
He grabs my hand and tilts his chin up, motioning in the direction of the dance floor. “Let’s not let Reese ruin our night. I believe my girl wanted to see my moves.”
We head back out and continue to dance the night away. We must have been twirling around the floor for some time before we realized we needed a break.
“I’ll go grab us some waters if you want to go have a seat.”
I send a grateful smile his way. I am parched. I watch him as he gracefully weaves through the throngs of people, artfully dodging the many people eagerly vying for his attention. Heading back to our table, I take a seat, sighing at the relief my feet feel from giving them a rest.
I turn in my seat to see Cynthia beaming down at me. “Drew hasn’t brought a girl around me, you know. Not since Alexa. But the way he looks at you? He never looked at her that way, even with all the similarities. I feel awful saying that here, but it’s true.”
Similarities. “Here?”
“The gala,” she clarifies.
“I don’t understand.”
“He didn’t tell you . . .” Her brow furrows.
“Tell me what?” Dread pools in my stomach, and I’m not even sure why.
“The reason for the gala of course.” She turns, her head moving back and forth as though she’s looking for something. Two men wheel a large golden frame into the room, taking extra care to remove it from the cart and set it on a large easel. “Finally,” she says, and I look back at her. “I’ve been wondering when they were going to put that out.” She rolls her eyes. “The gala is for her.” She points back toward the easel, and when my eyes land on it, I freeze. “I had this commissioned especially for tonight.”
There, looking back at me is a young woman, eerily resembling me. The likeness is so great it’s like looking in a mirror. My heart lurches in my chest, and my stomach drops.
“W-Who is that?” I stammer, completely entranced by the doppelgänger.
“Alexa Silver, of course,” she says softly. “Drew’s ex.”
Silver. Like the club. The club named after a woman that could be my twin.
I gasp. “Darling, are you all right? I thought you knew about her,” Cynthia asks, but I can’t speak. I need to get out of here. I jump from my seat and run, paying no attention to the scene I’m causing.
64
Bailey
“Chwaer.” I hear a familiar voice say and turn to find Reese, but I ignore him, making my way to the exit. “We need to talk,” Reese says, grabbing my arm and spinning me to look at him.
“There is nothing for us to talk about.” I yank my arm out of his grasp.
“You’ll want to hear what I have to say. Drew certainly won’t tell you the truth. It’s written all over your face. You saw Alexa’s picture.”
I’m too confused about what I saw to even answer him. What more could Reese possibly know? Better yet, what the fuck is Drew still hiding?
She looks like you.
No . . . you look like her.
I stumble forward, and Reese catches me.
“I got you.” He continues, “Let me take you away from here. We can talk, and I can fill in the gaps that Drew obviously won’t.”
Too numb to react or make decisions for myself, I allow him to lead me down the street until we are standing in front of what must be his car.
“Your car?”
“How else do you expect me to get to the Hamptons?” He chuckles. “I guess I could take the helicopter.”
My eyes roll.
“What was that for?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear.
“I forget you rich boys have all the toys.”
“It’s a rough life,” he says, trying to sound funny, but even in my current state, I can hear the bite to his words. “Get in.”
“Can you even drive?”
“I’m not drunk, but if you stay here, I give Drew about two more seconds before he finds you. Something tells me he’s the last person you want to see, chwaer.”
“Why do you always call me that?”
He stands up taller. “Just get in,” he commands, not at all friendly. The sting in his tone should have me thinking twice, but right now, he’s the lesser of two evils.
With that, I swing open the door, pulling my body into the car and sitting in the lush leather seats. “Nice car,” I mur
mur.
“Of course it is,” he says, sounding a million miles away. “You picked it out.”
My head snaps to him, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Bailey!” I hear Drew yell. His voice is too close for my liking.
“We need to go.” My legs quake as my nerves build. I don’t want Drew to catch me leaving with Reese. Not right now. I need to escape. To think. To allow Reese to tell me the things that Drew hasn’t. A large part of me knows this isn’t a good idea and that I should probably get out of the car. But instead, I turn to put my seat belt on. Reese is right. Drew will want to talk to me, but I’m not in the right headspace right now to deal with it.
It still feels like my heart is being ripped from my chest from what I saw in the picture. Was I just a replacement for his dead love? It sure the hell feels like it. I’ve never seen another person who looked so much like me and the parallels to our lives. Now that I think back on what Drew has told me . . . I can’t help but feel like we’re the same person.
It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before the driver’s side door is opening, and Reese is getting into the car.
“Where to?” I ask him as he stabs the ignition button beside the wheel. The fancy car comes to life with a rev of the engine.
“Someplace where I can tell you a story.” A chill runs down my spine at the alarming way he says this. But nothing can prepare me for what comes next. His head turns to me. “Somewhere we can be together, chwaer.”
“W-What does that mean? Chwaer?”
He peels out of the spot, speeding away from the gala and leaving my stomach behind. He’s cutting corners and driving like a lunatic. “Reese, slow down!” I yell, but he doesn’t respond. His eyes are locked forward with a vacant look to them. My nerves intensify tenfold—the dread from earlier at a fever pitch.
The light ahead turns red, and I’m momentarily relieved as the car slows to stop. Reese reaches his hand to open the glove compartment, and a picture falls out.
Alexa.
The picture is the same one from the gala.
“Why do you have this?” I ask, picking it up and waving it in the air.
“She’s my chwaer.”
“What does that mean?” I yell again.
He doesn’t answer me but starts mumbling crazy talk.
“You were taken from me. He took you from me!” he screams, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. “It means sister. You’re my fucking sister!” The light turns green, and the tires squeal as he slams down on the accelerator. “He took you from me. Drew poisoned you, and now we’re going to be together. You and me.” His head turns toward me, and what I see petrifies me. Chills run up the back of my neck.
He’s manic, and he’s going to kill us.
“Pull over!” I yell at him, but his maniacal laughter drowns out my pleas. “Let me the fuck out of this car, Reese.” My hand flies to the door handle, and I try and fail to open the car door. It’s locked, pinning me in with this crazy person.
My heart pounds in my chest.
I need to get out of here.
“I’m not going to let you leave me again. This time, I’m coming with you.”
“Help!” I scream, but there’s nobody to hear me. “Please. I’m not Alexa. I’m not your sister!” I pound on the door, willing it to give. My fist collides with the metal, over and over again until my skin burns like it’s being ripped off my bones.
If I don’t escape this car, he’s going to kill me. I know it.
“Help!” My pleas and screams fall on deaf ears. He’s lost his mind. All sensibility long gone. My terror mounts as I try to find an escape.
There won’t be one.
As the realization sinks in, everything slows. My body jerks, and my ears start to ring. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the screech of the tires.
Time moves in slow motion.
The humming in my ears intensifies, and the car lurches forward. Reese slams on the brakes, but it’s too late.
I brace for impact, but I’m not prepared for the sudden force as we collide.
My head pitches forward, connecting with something hard.
The airbag deploys.
The sound of metal crashing echoes around me.
And then quiet.
A bone-chilling silence as my eyes blink to focus.
The world is spinning, but I’m no longer moving.
A wave of nausea erupts inside me, and the thought that I need to get out of the car floats through my hazy subconscious.
“Don’t move.” I hear as I try to reach my hand to take my seat belt off, but that’s when I feel it. Excruciating pain.
It feels like a knife is stabbing me.
I listen to the voice and stop trying to free myself.
Sirens blare in the distance, but I worry they won’t make it in time.
My vision goes blurry.
The sirens become muffled.
And then nothing.
65
Drew
Where did she go? I need to talk to her. I need to explain. I run out of the building and down the street.
A few feet away, Reese’s car peels out of the spot, and I take off after them. “Stop!” I yell at the top of my lungs, but it’s no use.
“Throw me a set of keys,” I scream at the valet.
“Which ones?”
“Just give me a set of goddamn keys,” I bellow, and the poor kid jumps into gear. He hurls a set of keys into the air.
“The white car,” he says, pointing at a beat-up Honda that must be his. I don’t have time to think. My feet stomp the pavement in the direction of the Honda. In the distance, I can see Reese’s car. The stoplight up ahead is red.
I feel crazed.
Out of control, I dash into the compact car. I start the engine and hit the gas, leaving the parking space on what feels like two wheels. I don’t give a shit about anything other than getting to Bailey.
The light turns green before I make it to them, and the car swerves. “Fuck,” I yell, wanting to bash Reese’s face in for driving so out of control. Bailey’s in that fucking car. Because of your actions.
I have the pedal to the floor, but Reese’s car is too fast. A car pulls out in front of me, and I slam down on the horn, swerving to miss it. When I get around the red Ford, I see Reese up ahead and what occurs next plays out like a slow-motion picture in front of me. As he’s pulling up to the next intersection, the light turns yellow, and he must think he can make it because he drives right through it, crossing into the intersection, and then my heart stops.
The tires screech.
The bone-shattering sound of crashing metal beats against my temples.
The two cars collide.
I stop the car and jump out, running as fast as I can to get to her.
“Bailey.” The word blasts from my chest through my lungs, leaving my eardrums vibrating and my throat raw. I drop to my knees, my body physically unable to move as I take in the wreckage.
Bailey’s inside what used to be Reese’s car. Now it looks like meat after it’s been through a grinder. Mangled and unrecognizable.
My heart pounds in my chest as I try to stand. I need to get to her. I’ll crawl if I have to. A sturdy pair of hands come under my arms, helping me to stand. I look to the side to see a burly-looking man saying something that I can’t hear. He points at a truck beside us, but I couldn’t care less what he’s saying until I hear his next words. “Go!”
Somehow, I manage to get my feet to work. When I make it to the car, I frantically try to open the door, but it’s impossible. Through the broken glass, I see her damaged body. I know I can’t touch or move her, but I need her to know I’m here.
Before I can think about anything other than her, I’m pulling the metal.
It doesn’t move at first. The burly man from earlier runs up with a crowbar, and I step out of the way, allowing him to try. It gives a little, but not enough to open, not enough to even touch her.
“Bai
ley!” I shout through the crack. “Open your eyes,” I plead. She doesn’t, though. She doesn’t move at all. My heart pounds in my chest as I yell at bystanders to call the paramedics.
The girl I love is in there, and it’s my fault. I let this happen.
Things happen fast from that point on.
It’s all a blurry haze.
I vaguely recall being pushed out of the way and Bailey being taken from the car. The paramedics whisk her away, and I just sit there on the pavement, paralyzed to the spot. This can’t be happening. I promised I’d take care of her, and I let her down. I failed her. I killed her.
A sob breaks from my chest. I sit on the cold, hard ground with my head in my hands and bawl like a child. I feel someone place their hand on my shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.
“You’ve got to go to her, Drew. She needs you at the hospital.” I look up into my mother’s sympathetic gaze. I don’t deserve her pity. It’s all my fault. I’ve failed her. Again.
The entire drive to the hospital, my mother takes pity on me and doesn’t say a word. I look out the window into the dark abyss that matches my current state and don’t even realize when her driver pulls up to the hospital entrance.
She says something, but I barely hear her. I’m jumping out of the car and running into the emergency room. Eyes scanning the room for a doctor or anyone who can tell me if she’s okay.
“Drew,” Harper calls from behind me, running in with panic etched across her face. “Where’s Bailey?” she cries, tears streaming down her face. “Is she going to be okay?”
She runs into my arms, and I hold her while she sobs.
“Ms. Jameson?” a doctor asks, and Harper looks up, bobbing her head.
“How is she? Is she okay?” Harper asks the doctor now, and the doctor shakes her head.
Everything in me locks up.
“She was rushed back for emergency surgery. Her spleen was ruptured during impact and she has internal bleeding.” She takes a breath. “This is a very serious injury.”
