by Bella Jewel
“That’s a big deal for you, letting him see what’s behind the sassy girl we all know and love.”
She nods, huffing. “He just, I don’t know, got me. Like he could see behind it all. It was an awesome day, Sas. Like really awesome. And we caught up again the next day, and he let me come by his house, and something felt good, you know? Really good. We had a few drinks, a swim, and he fucked me in that pool. So damn slow, and good, and I think I fell a little bit in love with him after it.”
“It’s called lust, honey, but I can see why you’d feel it so soon. It sounds incredible. So, why are you so pissed?”
She looks down at her hands, and for the first time in a lot of years, I see a flash of something cross her face. Jealousy? Insecurity? Confusion? I’m not sure what it is, but it’s real, and it’s rare to see real from her.
“Hey,” I say, scooting closer. “Talk to me.”
“Well, Penny came in to work with his sister. He has two carers, so they both only work part time. It was her day, so she arrived that night and the other lady left. She came outside, saw us, and she was really nice, you know. But then he went inside to get another drink and was gone for ages. Like ages. So, I went in, and they were in the kitchen, and she was crying, and he was talking to her, all soft and different to the way he talks to me. And he just kind of shrugged me off when I asked if she was okay. He asked me to leave. He didn’t even look at me.”
My heart breaks for her, because that would suck. But this, right here, is exactly why I tried to warn her the other night. Boston and Penny, they definitely had a little something, maybe just a connection, maybe a real friendship, or maybe nothing more than a working partnership that goes really well. Either way, it was there, and I felt it immediately. But, this isn’t entirely on Chantelle considering, at this point, it seems like Boston is the one pursuing her.
“Oh, honey. It could have been anything. She might have had a really hard day, you don’t know what is happening in her world ...”
Chantelle shrugs, still staring at her hands. “Of course, and I really like Penny, so I hope it wasn’t anything bad, and I don’t mind that she turned to him. It was the way he reacted. The way he turned cold. And the worst part, is that he didn’t make any contact after it. Not for days. I felt used. And stupid. So, last night, he finally called ...”
I don’t really like this situation already, but I nod and listen, because that’s the right thing to do.
“He said he’d been busy and asked if I wanted to catch up. I said sure, I’d come over there and he said no, he’d come here. I should have hung up the phone and told him where to go, but I didn’t, I let him come over. And we had more amazing sex. But he left afterward, and I’ve ignored his calls since. He’s using me, isn’t he? It’s clear he has some sort of attachment to Penny, but she’s kind and sweet and he’s a big broody biker who likes to fuck. He isn’t going to get that from her. Basically, I’m his own personal version of a club whore.”
Ouch.
If it was anyone else, I’d probably say she was right. But Boston isn’t like that, he truly isn’t. He’s got a good soul, you can see it in him. I don’t think he’d use Chantelle, and if he did, he wouldn’t have made the effort to take her out and spend time with her. No. If I were to put my money on what’s going on, I’d say Boston has found himself attracted to two women.
Two very different women.
“Listen, Chan,” I say, taking a breath and facing her, “I’m going to be real with you here, because that’s what we do. We be real with each other. I think this situation is going to get messy, and I think the best thing for you to do would be to stay away from Boston completely. Not because I think you don’t deserve him, or a relationship, but because he is clearly confused.”
“So, you don’t think he’s using me?”
I exhale. Telling her the truth, means she might just take it as a sign she should keep fighting for Boston, which could end really, really messy.
But I’m no liar.
“No, I don’t think he’s using you. Boston is a good guy, everyone in the club would be totally with me when I say that. My honest opinion is that he’s found himself attracted to both of you, probably in very different ways. Penny is soft and sweet and he probably feels a certain protective emotion toward her, it probably brings out his masculine side and makes him want to wrap her in his arms and take care of her.”
Chantelle flinches.
I keep going.
“And then there is you, fun and happy, a bright spark that probably brings out a good side in him, a happy side, a carefree side. I promise you, he hasn’t felt that in a long time. From what Mason has told me, Boston has a dark past and often keeps to himself and doesn’t express much. You probably take him away from that. You set his soul on fire, you make him feel alive.”
She blinks and nods, as if she understands.
“But the problem is, you’re both feeding a different side to him, obviously both sides mean something to him, because he’s clearly confused. If it were me, I’d probably step away now while you can. Because if you get involved and he falls a little harder for you and a little harder for her, you could find yourself in a triangle that is very hard to break free from. Worse, you might actually fall for him and think, for a small second, how it might feel if he picked Penny ...”
Chantelle’s face falls, and I know that’s an awful thought.
Nobody ever wants to be second choice.
Neither her nor Penny would deserve that.
But if they enter this situation, that’s exactly what will happen.
Someone will get very, very hurt.
And to be one hundred percent honest, I wouldn’t want to see either of them hurt. Chantelle is my best friend, and Penny is a great woman.
This situation is like walking on the edge of hell.
Someone is going to get very, very burned.
~*~*~*~
SASKIA
A loud screech out the front of Mason’s house has me dropping the mop that I was running over the floor and darting out the front door. I don’t think, I don’t even hesitate. I just run out there. A horn blares and more brakes screech. Shit. I run out past the front gates and onto the road where a car has collided with a pole out the front of Mason’s house, to the left a little.
My heart races, and I rush over, terrified of what I’m going to find.
I know people who have said they’d rather call an ambulance than look inside a car that has crashed, just in case what they see they can never unsee. I’m not one of those people, though; if someone is in there, and hurt, I’m going to get them out. Or at least, I’m going to do the best I can to make sure they’re okay.
I rush over to the car, and a few other people have already stopped and gotten out of their cars. I reach the driver’s side and pull the door open and stop dead in my tracks. Theresa, Mason’s sister, is in the front seat. She’s hanging onto the steering wheel, knuckles white, staring straight ahead. Okay, I know she’s not a very nice person, but I’m not cruel enough to just walk away.
Not ever.
“Theresa,” I say carefully, reaching in and grabbing her shoulder. “Theresa, are you okay?”
She turns and looks at me, looking a little dazed. “Do I know you?”
She doesn’t remember me? That’s probably a good thing.
“I’m Mason’s maid, I heard the crash. I’m going to call an ambulance, are you hurt?”
She nods. “Yes. I ... yes, my neck ...”
I stand up straight and turn, glancing at a man rushing over. “Can you call an ambulance?”
“Already done. Is she okay? She was just driving along and swerved, but there was nothing in her way ...”
I look back to Theresa.
“I got a pain, in my chest,” she whispers.
Great. She’s going to have a heart attack on me.
Just what I need.
“I’m going to stay right here with you, okay, the ambulance is on its w
ay. Do you want me to call someone? Mason? Do you have a husband?”
“No, no,” she murmurs. “No, I don’t want you to call anyone. I don’t ... I don’t have anyone.”
Well, that kind of sucks.
“Okay, it’ll be okay.”
An ambulance arrives about ten minutes later and, carefully, they get Theresa out of the car and put her on a stretcher. “Has she any family who will be riding with her to the hospital?”
She glances at me, and I swear, she looks desperate. God dammit. I’d be a monster to send her off on her own. At least if I make sure she gets to the hospital safely and call someone, probably Mason, much to his dismay, then I’ll know I’ve done the right thing.
“I’ll come with her,” I say, raising a hand.
The paramedic nods, and we climb into the ambulance.
As we head toward the hospital, they do a few tests, ask Theresa a few questions, and then everything falls silent.
“You didn’t have to ride with me,” she says, and I glance at her.
“I’m not cruel enough to leave you on your own; you just had a car accident. Someone needs to be with you until you have help at the hospital.”
She bites her bottom lip, and then nods before saying, “Please, don’t call Mason.”
I shrug. “Then you’re going to have to give me someone else to call.”
“Okay.”
I stare down at my hands and realize I don’t have anything on me anyway. I don’t have my phone, or my purse. Then I realize I left Mason’s house wide open when I ran out. I wasn’t thinking, I just heard the crash and hightailed it out the door. Dammit. As soon as I get to the hospital, I’m going to have to call Mason and tell him his house is open, but Theresa really doesn’t want me to call.
I’m between a rock and a hard place.
We arrive at the hospital and they take her right in to get checked out. I wait, and wait, and wait. I can’t catch anyone for long enough to borrow a phone. After about two hours, Theresa finally hobbles out, looking stiff, but not in a really bad way. I walk over, stopping in front of her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m all clear, they said I can go.”
“I don’t have a phone or I would have called someone for you.”
“It’s okay,” she says, “I’ve called a friend to come and collect me. Do you need the phone to get a lift home?”
I nod. “That would be great, thank you.”
I call Chantelle, who agrees to come and get me in a few moments. After all that, I didn’t call Mason. I’ll tell him what happened tonight, but I don’t want to risk him upsetting Theresa. The relationship between the two of them is strained and, honestly, none of my business. So, I’ll respect her wishes for now.
“Thank you,” Theresa says, and I glance at her.
“Oh, you’re welcome.”
“I know you probably don’t like me a great deal, but I appreciate you helping me the way you did.”
I nod and give her a weak smile. “No problem.”
Chantelle arrives fifteen minutes later, and the second we step out of the hospital, she asks, “Was that Mason’s sister? The one you told me about? She looks exactly like him.”
“It was, and it’s a long story. When we get home, I’ll tell you.”
“You’re going to have to tell me on the way. I’m heading to work, so it’ll be a drop and run.”
So, I get in her car.
And I tell her.
Then, I try and figure out what I’m going to tell Mason.
~18~
MASON
My hands shake.
They fucking shake.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but stare at the monitor in front of me, not believing for a single fucking second what I’m seeing.
There is no way.
No fucking way.
She wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t, not after every fucking thing we’ve been through. There is no way what we’ve got is fake, but if what I’m seeing in front of me is even close to being real, then everything she’s let me believe, is a fucking lie.
I watch on the security camera installed in my bedroom, the one I check daily, and see Saskia walk straight over to my safe. She fiddles with it for a moment before it pops open. I have never told her the combination for my safe, which, stupidly, is my mother’s birthdate. But, I have told her all about my mother, and that there is expensive jewelry in that safe.
Because I fucking trusted her.
I trusted her.
But I can see her, clear as day, same hair, same eyes, same fucking beautiful body, sticking her hands in my safe and pulling out the jewelry my mother left me, jewelry that is worth fucking thousands, possibly even hundreds of thousands. There are rare diamonds and pieces in there, passed down from generation to generation. Some of it is over a hundred years old. The money that could be made from that is high.
And she’s taking it.
She took it.
It’s gone, I checked.
And she’s gone.
Fucking gone. Not at the house.
My brain twists, and I start panting.
She would steal from me? For her boyfriend? For that piece of shit in jail? She’d honestly take from me, knowing how much it means. All to save his ass? That thought is almost so unbelievable, it makes it hard for me to believe what’s on the screen in front of me, but there is no denying it’s her. I pull out my phone with trembling fingers and call Malakai.
“What is it?”
“She. Fuckin’. Stole. From. Me.”
“What? Bro, explain yourself. What happened?”
“Saskia took my mother’s very fuckin’ expensive jewelry. She doesn’t know I know, but I have a fuckin’ camera in my room, and I’m standin’ here, watchin’ it with my very own eyes.”
“You’re kiddin’?” he breathes, sounding as shocked as me. “She there? She comin’ back?”
“I’m guessin’ yeah, she’ll come back. She doesn’t know I know, hell, she doesn’t know about the cameras. So, she’ll probably assume I won’t notice. Her shit is still here. She’ll come for it. Probably plannin’ on gettin' out while I’m gone tomorrow.”
“Not on our watch. Fuck, man, I’m disappointed and, to be honest, fuckin’ shocked.”
“You and me both.”
Rage floods my veins, and I just want to grab her and fucking strangle her. The worst part, though, is that it’s mixed with hurt. Bitter fucking hurt that I feel right to my bones. I never thought, not for a million fucking years, that she’d betray me. She has always been so real, so fucking real with me. And now ... fuck.
Fuck.
“You want us around there for when she comes home?”
I go to say no, but the fact of the matter is, she’s betraying me and my club by stealing to get money to free a boyfriend who has threatened her. I wanted to deal on my own, but it’s high time she learns what happens when you steal from me.
“Yeah, get around here.”
“Know what you wanna do? Your call?”
“She betrayed me, stole somethin’ very fuckin’ valuable. She ain’t leavin’ until I get it back, and then ... I don’t fuckin’ know.”
“Your call, brother. We’re on our way.”
I hang up the phone and, with trembling fingers, grip my leather jacket, trying to get control of myself. Then I look back up at the camera and watch as she closes the safe, locks it, stuffs the jewels in a purse and leaves. That’s the last I see of her, because the camera is only in my room, purely because of the safe I have in there.
I stare at the blank screen.
And I let all my emotions slide from my body.
No empathy. No kindness.
She’s going to wish she never crossed me.
Saskia is going to get the shock of her life when she comes home.
And she won’t like it, not one single bit.
~*~*~*~
SASKIA
After I arrived home, I did a
quick check of the house to make sure nothing had been stolen or touched before continuing on with my day. It was only two in the afternoon when I arrived, so I decided to go and get some groceries before finishing the day. By the time I arrive back home, Mason’s bike and a bunch of others are at the house. They must have finished up early today.
I grab all the groceries and walk inside the house, kicking the front door closed with my foot. I stop when I see them all, standing, arms crossed, staring at me. Why the hell are they staring at me like that? They look pissed. Super pissed. Mason especially. He’s looking at me, and I could swear, it’s utter betrayal. God damn, did he find out about Theresa? Shit. I was going to tell him just as soon as I saw him.
The rest of them, though, no idea why they’re all glaring at me like they want to rip my head off.
Have I missed something?
“Uh, you guys all look like I’ve done something really really wrong and you’re about to commit murder and hide my body,” I say, placing down the bags.
“So, you haven’t done anything wrong?” Mason says, his voice gravelly and filled with ... hate?
Jesus, I know he doesn’t like his sister, but I was only helping out.
“Uh, well, I guess.”
“Care to tell us, before I lose my shit?”
I exhale. Gosh, if I knew he was going to be so angry over something so ridiculous, I would have called him straight away. I mean, honestly, I thought he couldn’t care less about his sister. Maybe he thinks I was scheming with her? Or talking to her about things I shouldn’t have? I guess I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
He might actually have been concerned, in which case, maybe I should have called.
“I should have called,” I say, putting my hands up. “I get that now, okay? But I didn’t honestly think you’d care, or you’d want to hear it, and she was in trouble so I had to help her.”
He stares at me, blankly.
I stare back at him. “Your sister ...”
“What about my fuckin’ sister?”
Wait. If this isn’t about his sister, then what in the ever-loving hell is it about?
