by Alexis Angel
“Cara, c’mon! Open up!” Renee shouts from outside my apartment, knocking against the door, this time harder than before. Judging by the sound of it, she has already resorted to using her fists against my door. Well, tough luck - I don’t care what she does, but I’m not opening that door.
Yeah, I’m drunk right now. So what? I think I’ve earned the right to be just a little drunk, haven’t I? After all, I got into a huge fight with the only man that I’ve ever loved, and I found out that my best friend has lied to me.
“Please, Cara!” Renee insists, “I’m your friend, let me in!”
“My friend?” I jump up to my feet and walk toward the door in a hurried step. Without opening it, I raise my voice so that Renee can hear me. “I don’t remember having a backstabbing friend!”
“I didn’t -- ah, come on, Cara! Let me in or I’ll have to kick the door down.”
“Pfft. As if you could,” I scoff, turning my back to the door.
“No, but I’ll keep kicking until everyone in this building comes to help me out!” She raises her voice now, and I sigh - okay, she wins this round. Walking back to the door, I turn the handle and step back to allow Renee in.
“Someone’s having a party,” she tells me with one raised eyebrow, her eyes jumping from the ice cream bucket to the bottle of vodka.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m having a party and you’re not invited,” I tell her, that pissed off tone still coating my words, and then sink down on my couch. I reach for the vodka and take another swig in two long gulps. “And I’m not sharing any of this,” I continue, clutching the bottle against my chest, the room slowly starting to spin.
“Look, Cara… I’m sorry,” Renee says, sitting down by my side and looking me in the eyes. “I just thought… I don’t know Cara, I just don’t think that living as an hermit slash workaholic is doing you any good.”
“I’m not a --” I stop, an hiccup jumping between my words. “I’m not an hermiwhatever, I’m a very successful businesswoman!” I manage to continue, waving the bottle around as I gesticulate. “I break men’s hearts and grind them into flour!”
“Ah, Cara… I’m sorry, I really am. I was just trying to help.”
“I know,” I whisper, my rational side sobering up for a moment. Looking at Renee, I offer her the bottle; she looks at it apprehensively, but then takes it from my hands and brings it up to her lips.
“You would have never accepted to go out with Liam… This was the only way,” she continues, but the way her tone of voice changes tells me that if she could go back in time she’d do things differently. “I never wanted anyone to get hurt… But I screwed up,” she says, taking the bottle to her lips again and chugging the vodka happily.
“Hey, leave some for me,” I say, stealing the bottle from her and pressing it against my chest. “You’re right, though… I would have never accepted to go out with Liam. I don’t do dates, I don’t do love, I don’t do anything. You must think I’m pathetic.”
“Of course not, Cara. You’re the smartest woman I’ve ever met, and you’re also the bravest… You’re everything but pathetic. But when it comes to men, you --”
“Yeah, I know… I just don’t trust them. I just can’t. They only want one thing and one thing only - and when they don’t get it, they kick your ass to the curb. Sayonara!”
“Not all men are like that…”
“No. Liam isn’t like that,” I tell her, and it hurts to feel his name on my lips. Opening my mouth, I finish the vodka and let the empty bottle slip from my fingers and onto the couch.
“See?” Renee starts, holding both my hands now. “I know that you’ve seen a lot of shit ever since you opened Lust Muscle, but you can’t give up on trust and love.”
“I’m not sure if I can do that…”
“Of course you can! You did it with Liam. You can do it again!” She insists, holding my hands so tight that I feel my fingers growing numb.
“You’re right. But… But… He probably hates me right now. I was such a bitch. And I probably screwed everything up. I need to call him right now and tell him I love him!” I cry out loud, jumping up to my feet and grabbing my phone from the coffee table.
“Cara, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Renee says, looking up at me hesitantly, but I barely process what she's trying to tell me. Right now, vodka is fueling my meltdown - as such, instead of acting rationally and putting my phone down, I start scrolling down my contacts list, looking for Liam’s number.
“Alright, this is for the greater good,” Renee says suddenly, going up to her feet as well. Moving as fast as lightning (or maybe I’m just too drunk), she snags the phone out of my hands.
“Give it to me!” I demand, trying to reach for the phone, but she just places her free hand over my face and keeps me at bay.
“You’re too drunk, Cara. You’ll just screw it up even more!” She cries out as I try to wrestle the phone out of her hands. “Call him in the morning!”
“In the morning,” I repeat, submitting to her. Who would’ve said that Renee would end up being the only reasonable person in such a situation? “I’ll call him in the morning.”
“Good girl,” she whispers with a smile, but she tucks my phone inside her purse all the same. Good thinking.
Ah, shit, no wonder I’ve been avoiding love all my life.
Love is hard.
Liam
I pace around my apartment, restless anger and frustration combining in a tense energy I can’t shake no matter how much I want to.
I want to call her, go back to her apartment, anything really as long as I can stop this pressing loneliness from hanging over me. The fight with Cara is like a fucking movie clip playing on repeat in my head over and over and over again. I can’t get it out of my mind.
The things she said. The look on her face. So much pain and heartache there. And I’m feeling it, too. This is exactly why I’ve worked so hard to keep from getting involved with a woman. Nothing can end well if you put your heart on the line. I fucking know better. I’ve spent most of my adult life avoiding this very thing.
Until Cara walked into my life and made me feel things I never thought I’d feel. Want things I never thought I’d want. Things I never knew I was missing until she came along.
Fuck!
I punch my fist into the door frame of the front door as I pass by it for the eight-hundredth time. I need to get the fuck out of here.
Grabbing my keys from the entry table, I storm out the door, taking the stairs because standing still in an elevator might make me lose it completely right now. When I bust through the door of my building onto the busy Manhattan streets, I stride angrily down the sidewalk until I get to my favorite bar.
Grabbing a seat at the bar, I order the most expensive whiskey they have, then tell the bartender to just bring me the whole fucking bottle.
I knock the first glass back like it’s a shot, not even caring that it’s a damn good waste of such a fine drink. Same thing with the second. When the burn settles in my stomach, I slow down, pouring a glass and jostling the ice around while I look around the bar.
Almost immediately, three women smile my way and saunter over to me on six-inch heels, hips swaying in their miniskirts as they bat their fake eyelashes and bite their heavily painted lips. I want to roll my eyes. They’re like slutty versions of Stepford wives. Carbon copies of each other.
How was I so into that shit a week ago? Right now I’m totally disgusted by the sight of them. Only out for a good fuck. To get their claws in Liam Donovan so they can say they fucked me, like some goddamn badge of honor.
Cara’s words come back to me as the cookie cutter skanks sidle up to me, draping themselves all over my body.
The ultimate player.
Liam fucking Donovan, king of the world.
Heartless bastard.
God’s gift to women.
A pathetic overgrown kid.
Does she really think of me like that? She knows that’s n
ot the real me, right? I don’t even know now. And the thought makes me sick. Disgusted with myself, just like she said she was. I don’t want her thinking of me that way. Because it’s not who I am. Not really. It’s a facade, built to protect my heart. The heart that got decimated anyway.
I shove my unfinished drink away, along with the rest of the bottle, and push the women off of me. Glancing around, I notice there are plenty more watching, waiting to take their place. Fuck, I can’t even get a damn drink in peace without every woman in the place throwing themselves at me. Wanting a night with the city’s most infamous playboy.
Fuck this shit. I toss a bill on the bar and push past the women without so much as a word or a glance, making my way out of the bar. Heading back in the direction of my apartment, I hang a left on the street beside it and punch in the code to enter my private garage.
I have several cars in here, depending on which one suits my mood if I don’t feel like taking my limo. But there’s only one I have my eye on tonight.
I run my fingers over the soft cover that I haven’t removed in years. I hire someone to take this baby for a spin just enough to keep the engine in good condition. Taking a deep breath, I yank the cover off.
My eyes settle on the vintage Mustang. It’s a Shelby GT 500. My brother’s pride and joy.
Lucas.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat. I haven’t driven it since he died. We used to take it out all the time together. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at it, much less drive it.
So what’s different now? All I can think is that Cara’s ripped off the bandage on the wounds I try so hard to cover up. All the feelings I don’t want to acknowledge. But there’s no fighting them now. She’s making me feel a thousand different emotions.
If Lucas were here, I’d have him to talk to about it. Maybe driving his car will help me clear my head. Give me some kind of clarity about what the fuck I do now.
I grab the keys from the password protected safe attached to the cement wall and sit down inside, the smell of the leather filling my nose. Blowing out a breath, I crank the engine, and the muscle car roars to life. In seconds, I’m pulling out onto the streets of Manhattan into the congestion I hate with only one thought in my mind.
I need to get the fuck out of this city.
Liam
As soon as I’m out of the city, my thoughts immediately start to quiet. And the further and further away I get, the stiller they become. Driving my brother’s car seems to bring some kind of peace to me. As if I still have a connection to him of sorts. Now that I know this, I wonder why I haven’t driven it before. That’s something that needs to change.
I find myself on the long, quiet, two-lane country road that leads to the place Lucas is buried. I haven’t been there in ages. But I feel as if I’m being drawn there. Brought to the one place where I might get some clarity. Some guidance.
Because I sure as fuck don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
When I reach the cemetery, I park the Shelby and climb out, walking slowly toward Lucas’s grave. I stand for a long time in front of it, letting the emotions run their course, not trying to hide from them.
I’ve done that for too long. Years. I never let myself think about it. I’ve thrown myself into my work during the day and my playboy lifestyle at night, never giving myself time to dwell on my losses. Simultaneously avoiding letting my guard down. Protecting myself from the assault of pain that’s hitting me right now.
But maybe that’s what I need. To feel again. That’s what Cara’s forced me to do. And while I’m hurting like a motherfucker right now, it’s better than being numb.
Because I’ve missed out on so much by keeping myself detached, remaining aloof. I might not have been hurting, but I also wasn’t living. Not really. It was all a farce.
Right now all I want is to be back with Cara. Living.
I go down to my knees in front of my brother’s grave and speak from my heart.
“Lucas,” I sigh. “God, I miss you, brother. So fucking bad.”
My chest tightens painfully, and I almost want to run back to the car and drive away from this shit, but I’m hoping against hope that somehow coming here will give me some kind of direction. Some clarity on what I need to do.
I take a deep breath. “I fell in love, man. Wish you were here to see her. To meet the woman who finally brought Liam Donovan to his knees.” I chuckle, thinking about how much Lucas would love Cara.
I pour my heart out there in the middle of the graveyard, spilling my guts to my brother, even though he’s long gone from this world. I tell him all about how we met, how she stole my heart from the very beginning without me even realizing it.
Then I tell him, “I fucked up, man. Bad. I don’t know how to fix it.”
I pause, drawing a deep breath, letting all my words settle in the silence. I really did screw this up. I was in on the ploy from the very beginning. And while she was, too, she wasn’t aware the entire time like I was. For all she knows, I was just fucking with her the whole time. She has no way of knowing if anything I said was true. If my feelings are real or not. If everything we shared was all part of an elaborate game or if it was all real. It was. Every fucking bit of it.
But I can see now just how much my deception hurt her. She feels betrayed. Because I knew all along what she was up to, her lies don’t feel like a betrayal. But mine do.
I blow my breath out through my teeth and scrape my hand over my face. “God, Lucas, I miss you so bad, but the idea of losing Cara hurts just as bad in a different way.” I set my jaw, not wanting to accept that I could have lost her for good. That it’s over.
It’s not over. I won’t let go of her now that I’ve found someone that has made me feel again.
“I won’t lose another person I love, Lucas. Not when she’s still here. Donovans never say die, right?” My lips lift in a sorrowful smile. We always used to say that. We were tenacious. Not willing to give up on anything. Ever. And I know that’s how Lucas was in his final moments, fighting to the death, unwilling to give up or give in.
And that’s how I want to be. Unafraid. Determined.
I nod, feeling as if my brother is right there with me, smiling over me as I come to this realization. As if coming to this place really did give me the clarity I was searching for.
I stand, a new resolve forming in my spirit, and I tell my brother what I’m going to do as a plan forms in my mind.
“I’m going to get Cara back. I’m going to make her mine. Forever.”
Liam
Betty brings me another cup of coffee the next morning as I work like a madman.
“Thanks, love,” I tell her, flashing her a quick smile.
“Hard at work, aren’t you?” Her grandmotherly demeanor makes me happy. “I’ll keep it coming,” she says, nodding at the coffee.
“Please,” I reply, giving her a mock-desperate look. I’m going to need all the energy I can get if I’m going to pull this thing off. I was up most of the night thinking about my plan, and when I realized I was just tossing and turning at four this morning, I came to the office to get shit done. I’ve worked almost an entire work day already, and I’m nowhere near finished.
Betty leaves, shutting the door that separates my office from the lobby where her desk is, and I pick up the phone, making what feels like the thousandth call today.
I speak to the head of one of my favorite charities, getting his opinion and input, seeing how fast he can make things happen, typing out emails and arranging conference calls and making lists of vendors all at the same time. Normally for something this huge, I’d outsource all this shit, but I don’t have any margin for error with this.
Everything has to be perfect. My whole fucking future hinges on it.
On one of my calls a bit later, I knock back what’s left of the coffee and click to my messaging app on my computer, requesting more from Betty.
She walks in with it almost immediately, in time to hear
me raise my voice to the coordinator I’m speaking with. “You need to check with your superiors immediately. I’m calling in a favor here, and I won’t take no for an answer. I’ve donated uncountable amounts of money to your organization. I expect to hear back from you in the next hour with a different answer.”
I slam the phone down, and Betty looks at me in surprise. I don’t often have to play the role of a hard-ass when it comes to my business interactions, but I’ve been calling in favors all fucking day for this. I don’t like being told no. It’s not something I’m used to. And it pisses me off to be told my requests can’t be accommodated on such short notice. Fuck that. I’m not above reminding anyone and everyone what all I’ve done for them in the past. This is too fucking important.
Just as Betty sets my coffee down, Connor appears in the doorway, his eyebrows flying nearly up to his hairline at the chaos my office has become. Discarded coffee cups, wadded up papers, notepads everywhere. My office is always immaculate, but this kind of reflects my current state of mine.
“How’s it going, man?” he asks warily as Betty makes herself scarce, shutting the door on her way out.
I glare at him.
Connor holds his hands up, palms out. “Sorry for asking. Caught you at a bad time, apparently.” But it doesn’t stop him from sitting down on one of the leather chairs across from me. He crosses one ankle over the opposite knee. “How are things with Cara?”
I groan.
“That bad?”
“Well, let’s just say that telling a fucking lie isn’t the best way to start a new relationship.”
Connor gives me a sympathetic look. “It was a fucking bad idea. I’m sorry, dude. I really thought it might help you see the light, though.”
