Revenge 2

by JJ Knight

  His calm face gives nothing away. “What do you think?”

  I shake my head and start walking up to the house.

  “Your cameras are toast,” I say. “As soon as I get back over there tonight, I’m doing a search and destroy. I’ll smash them all.”

  “Don’t you dare.” He follows me up the steps to the door, and then right into my house without waiting for an invitation. “They’re expensive and I’ll get in trouble.”

  I kick off my shoes and walk through the house to my bedroom. Nick follows. I don’t want him in my bedroom, so I keep walking and lead him into the living room.

  The living room is not a selling feature of this rental. It was probably a nice room originally, but part of it got walled off to create the third bedroom. The construction work is professional quality, but you can tell by the floor. There’s a real hardwood floor in the living room, and it has an inlay border of darker wood. You can see two of the corners, but then the inlay disappears under the wall on one side. The other corners are under my carpet.

  I don’t know why I care about moved walls and floors, but I do. It might be from reading old Nancy Drew mysteries when I was younger. Nan has a bunch of first editions, and it made her happy to see me reading. I think she took it as a sign I wasn’t going to grow up and be like my mother.

  Nick glances around the room and takes a seat on the saggy old sofa. I haven’t noticed how tall he is until now. When he sits, his knees poke up above the seat level of the sofa. He looks awkward here in my house.

  Good.

  I’ve been on his turf at Morris Music, and it feels good to turn the tables on him.

  “Now what?” I take a seat in the armchair. There’s only the armchair and the two-seater sofa. Well, there’s a bean bag, but I’m not sitting on that. My roommate Amanda made a joke about using the bean bag for sex positions and I’m not touching it.

  “Maggie wants a report,” Nick says.

  The vice president wants a report? After she sent me back down to archives? This is unbelievable. I’m so pissed, it’s hard to sit still in this chair.

  “Nick, you tell her I’m not her little prostitute. Or Eye Candy. Or Talent Coordinator, or whatever they call it.”

  “She’s curious about why Dylan Wolf left a club last night with three girls. The story got picked up in a few places. She nearly had a coronary when she saw the photos.”

  I roll my eyes. “All part of my plan.”

  His pierced eyebrows move up for a second. “Really?”

  “Yes. Tell Maggie I’m going to have sex with Dylan tonight, but only if I get… a thousand dollar bonus.”

  He nods. “That can be arranged.”

  I stand up, shake my head, and sit down again. “That was a joke! I’m being sarcastic.”

  “How about two thousand?”

  I wiggle my jaw from side to side, thinking about his offer. Part of my reason for coming to LA was to try and get some money. My dream is a career in music, but there’s a reason I went to college for a business degree instead of an arts degree. Even though I love music, there’s a part of me that’s very practical.

  My grandmother took me in when I had nowhere else to go, and she’s very practical. She’s also the most loving and kind person I’ve been lucky enough to meet.

  Unfortunately, other members of my family have taken advantage of her kindness. It wasn’t just my mother, but nephews and cousins and neighbors. I swear that everyone in town has gotten a loan or a gift from her at some point. She was practical and smart enough to save up money her whole life, but then her kindness made her lose everything. She co-signed some loans for people. One deal was for a house, which wasn’t so bad, because at least the land had value. The other deal was financing for a car dealership. That was my uncle’s big dream.

  When my uncle went bankrupt, he left town to go start fresh somewhere else.

  My grandmother was on the hook for all the money. She’d put the farm up for collateral, and the bank wanted everything.

  The day I talked to Mr. Jock in the library was the same day I found out we were losing the farm.

  I was sitting in the cafe that afternoon, laughing over how disgusting our sweetened redeye coffees tasted when she called me on my cell phone and gave me the news.

  Over the next month, the bank took the farm and auctioned it off. All the people Nan had helped over the years disappeared. She tried to get some money to buy it back, but they wouldn’t approve a mortgage for a lady her age. When it went to auction, I’d barely put in three shifts at the coffee shop, and I sure didn’t qualify for a loan.

  It sure didn’t seem like a good thing at the time, but looking back, I can see how losing the farm wasn’t so bad.

  The new owners took over, which meant they hired their own workers to come in and do all the work of running things. I didn’t have to feed chickens anymore in the morning, and Nan didn’t have to worry about paying the guys she had working for her, doing the hard labor with the cattle.

  She had free time during the day and started going to the seniors’ center to play cards. The new owners even let us stay in the farmhouse, since they weren’t planning to use it right away.

  They said Nan could live there as long as she wanted. That’s where she is now. She believes she can stay forever, but I don’t.

  My plan is to make enough money in LA that I can support her when they finally boot her out of the farmhouse. Just thinking about her having to move from the only home she’s ever known brings me to the brink of tears.

  Across from me in the small living room, Nick mutters to himself and taps at his phone.

  I look down at my smooth, unwrinkled hands.

  Like so many farm wives, Nan worked hard her whole life. Her face and hands are lined with deep wrinkles from working in the sun. She’s got arthritis in most of her joints, but she doesn’t complain on the days she’s stiff. If there’s a fundraiser happening, she’ll bake or sell tickets. If there’s a family with a sick kid, she’ll show up at their house with a hot meal and some picture books for the little ones.

  If I could give her some of my own life, and let her be young again, I would do that in a heartbeat.

  But I can’t.

  So all I can do is pursue my dreams in a practical way, so I can support her with money. It’s the least I can do.

  I swallow hard and look out the bright living room window. The homesick feeling is back, and the urge to cry is almost overwhelming. But I won’t cry in front of Nick. Or anybody else.

  “Two thousand,” Nick says. “Done deal.”

  “You’re fucking kidding.”

  “I’m fucking not.” He waves the screen of his phone at me.

  “As if I can read that text from here,” I say.

  “You’re going to sleep with him anyway, so take the cash and suck it up, buttercup.”

  “Would I really get two grand?”

  “Blow his mind tonight, and get him into a meeting next week. The check will be waiting.”

  “The money is for getting him to the meeting?”

  “Sure. We’ll say that. If it makes you feel like less of a whore.”

  “You’re not going to film it, are you?”

  “I told you. The cameras are only downstairs. Take it up to the bedroom and it’s completely private.”

  I put my face in my hands and breathe heavily. My head is pounding and I feel like throwing up again.

  Nick has his phone in his hand, and he seems to be watching something on the screen.

  He sees me looking, and tilts the screen up to be sure I can’t see what he’s looking at.

  A shot of adrenaline fires through me.

  I jump up, grab the phone from Nick’s hand, and run to the bathroom. I lock the door behind me.

  What I see on the phone is surprising, yet not surprising. Of course Nick has remote access to the cameras.

  This is a view of the inside of Dylan’s rented place. The brass fireman’s pole is in the background,
but more importantly, Dylan is in the foreground.

  He’s sitting in the living room, talking to two other people.

  It’s a couple, and they both have silver hair. The woman is wearing casual clothes and the man is in jeans and a green hoodie.

  WTF?

  They’re the same couple who was standing behind me the first time I saw Dylan busking on the street.

  I feel physically ill.

  Dylan’s wearing the same shirt he had on when I left his place—it’s a shirt with thin pinstripes that looks gray at a distance. This feed is live.

  What I can’t understand is why he’s meeting with that couple. This morning, he was looking at the video with me, and he asked me if I knew this couple. He said he didn’t know them.

  If he doesn’t know them, why are they at his place?

  Was he lying to me? Or was there something he couldn’t say in front of the redheads?

  My mind is whirring, searching for clues. I know there must be clues. If I look hard enough, I’ll figure everything out.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  Nick says, “Give me back my phone.”

  I hold the phone up to my ear, hoping for audio. There’s a crackle of static, but I can’t hear what Dylan’s talking about.

  I yank open the door and glare at Nick. “There’s no audio.”

  “Calm down. I thought you were opposed to spying on your boyfriend.”

  “This is sick.” I hand him back the phone and cross my arms. “You should go.”

  He stays standing just outside the bathroom door, being calm and annoying me.

  “Jess, you’re smart and you’re pretty. Plus you’re young. Do you know what kind of opportunities you have? David Ambler knew you would be an asset. He’s a genius. That’s why he hired you.”

  Another wave of nausea sweeps over me. David Ambler was the guy who hired me as an intern. I never met him, because he was gone the day I started at Morris Music.

  “David Ambler got himself fired by Maggie,” I say. “He’s no genius.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. David Ambler’s IQ is so high, it can’t be tested.”

  “Do you have an email address or something for David Ambler?”

  Nick looks away from me, staring down the hallway. “Jess, I know what you’re thinking and you can forget it.”

  “You’re a mind-reader, Nick? What am I thinking?”

  “That you can sniff around other companies and get yourself hired somewhere else. But you can forget it. If you leave now and ruin this deal, Maggie will destroy you.”

  The way he’s talking sends a chill through to my bones. Nick might be saying anything it takes to manipulate me, but Maggie is a tiger. She is not someone I want to piss off.

  Nick continues, “You’ll never get anywhere in this town. It’s a big city, but it’s very small at the top.”

  “So, I have to sleep with Dylan. I’ll get money, and I’ll keep my job. If I don’t, I’ll be ruined?” My voice is full of scorn. “Thanks a lot. No, really. I’m super glad you stopped by today.”

  Nick steps back, flinching from me.

  “The meeting is next week,” he says, turning to leave. “Get your boyfriend wrapped around your finger before then.”

  I follow him to the front door and watch as he lets himself out.

  I walk slowly through the quiet house and check that Amanda isn’t there. I’m all alone.

  I go into my bedroom, close the door, pull the curtains shut, lay myself down on my bed, bury my face in my pillow, and cry.

  Chapter 14

  Napping in the bath tub seems dangerous.

  But it feels so good.

  After Nick left, I spent the next five hours doing laundry and trying to not freak out about tonight.

  Now I’m having my second bath of the day, and waking up from my second nap.

  Amanda’s here in the house, and she’s got some guy with her. He’s older, like old enough to have some gray hair at his temples. He looks like a professor. I don’t want to know what they’re doing in her bedroom, but I have locked the bathroom door, just in case they come out. If there’s an emergency, they can use the bathroom connected to Riley’s bedroom.

  Riley. My mysterious roommate. It’s weird that I live with someone I haven’t met yet. I haven’t even seen a photo of her.

  I step out of the tub and do a careful inspection of everything that might need shaving or waxing. Everything’s good.

  I wipe the fog off the mirror and stare at my face for a minute. This is the face of a twenty-two-year-old virgin. And tonight, she’s going to take the next step. It’s about time.

  The last time I saw my doctor, she said I wouldn’t have any problems. Everything down there is normal enough, or so she said. There might be some discomfort, but if I’m ready…

  Fuck. I can’t even think about it.

  Every time I try to imagine being naked near Dylan, I start to sweat. That’s why I had to have a second bath. I sweated right through my antiperspirant. So gross.

  It’s seven o’clock.

  One hour until he expects me at his place.

  I’ve got some questions for him, but I don’t know if I can ask.

  Why was he meeting with the older couple there today? I’ve been over and over it in my head. If I ask him, he’ll want to know how I know. Then all hell will break loose.

  I’ve got a story figured out in my head that makes sense. Maybe right after I left, he contacted the couple through the account they used to upload the footage from that day. Then they were excited to meet him and came right over.

  Sure.

  That’s possible.

  I unzip my makeup bag and lean in toward the mirror to start putting on concealer. This morning, Dylan said he liked how natural I looked with no makeup. I smile at myself in the mirror.

  Guys can’t actually tell if a girl is wearing makeup or not. I swear, unless you’re wearing bright blue eye shadow, they have no idea.

  My palms are a bit clammy, but other than that, I feel okay.

  The more I think about last night, it makes sense that I wasn’t drugged. I don’t ever drink, and last night I tossed back a couple of drinks really fast. I hadn’t eaten in about seven hours, so the booze hit me hard.

  Telling myself this is comforting. I’d rather believe it was too much alcohol than something worse.

  Just like tonight.

  I’d rather believe there’s a reasonable explanation for Dylan meeting with those people. I don’t want to believe he’d lie to me.

  It’s quarter after seven.

  I’m startled by how fast time is moving.

  I hurry to finish with my makeup and get dressed.

  It’s eight o’clock when I slide into Dylan’s black car.

  I’m going to be late.

  Oh, well.

  I check my makeup one more time in the rear view mirror.

  He can wait a few more minutes.

  Chapter 15

  The car stereo is playing Demons by Imagine Dragons when I drive up to the old firehall.

  The lyrics are perfect for this moment, just like all great songs. The words are poetry, with enough space for interpretation.

  The word greed jumps out at me from the lyrics. I swear, I’m not thinking about the money—the two thousand dollars Nick said I’d get paid for sleeping with Dylan.

  I mean, I am thinking about the money, but I’m not. That’s not the only reason I’m here.

  It’s well past eight, and dark. The street is nearly devoid of people, and I don’t like the look of the people who are around.

  Keeping my head down, I walk quickly to the side door. I wish these shoes had softer soles and didn’t announce so clearly that I’m a female.

  I knock on the shiny, dark blue door and wait. Now that I’m standing still, with no music to distract me, I can feel my nerves. My whole body is nerves.

  The door opens.

  Dylan stands there with his eyebrows raised, like
he’s surprised to see me. “I bought some cookies at the office, but do you have any of those Thin Mints?”

  “Very funny. And I never was a Girl Scout.”

  “Then what are you selling?” He looks me up and down. I tremble as his gaze moves down to my bare legs, then up my short denim skirt and buttoned top.

  I put my hand on my hip and shake my head, like I’m totally used to all this attention, and it’s so boring.

  He’s wearing jeans and a different shirt than he had on earlier. This is a black T-shirt with CBGB on it.

  “Cool shirt,” I say. I don’t ask what the initials stand for, because I know it was a famous club in New York. It closed down a few years back, but now there’s an annual concert by the same name. Plus people will probably buy the shirts until the end of time, because the logo is just… cool.

  He nods for me to come in.

  “Did you eat?” he asks. The door closes, shutting out the world.

  “I think so.”

  He lets out a short laugh. “Interesting.”

  “How was your day? Did you do anything? You said you had some business stuff.”

  He closes the distance between us and stops with his face inches from mine. He totally knows I’m prying for information.

  “Did you come over to talk about boring business stuff?”

  “No. I came to bring your car back.”

  His eyes burn into mine. “Are you wearing those white cotton panties?”

  I think about inviting him to check under my skirt, but the words won’t come out. I’m always way more brave in my imagination than in reality.

  Even this morning, I was more brave. I actually had my hand down his pants. But the other girls were here with us, in the bathroom. I knew things wouldn’t get far with them around.

  Now, we’re alone again.

  He leans his face the rest of the way to mine and kisses me.

  The place is so quiet, I can hear our mouths opening.

  His lips close around mine, and I let out a soft sigh. His arms tighten around me, pulling my body against his. I shift my feet so that one foot is between his feet, and his leg is between mine.

  We keep kissing, his tongue parting my lips.

  He tightens his grip on me, until I’m grinding my hips against his leg. My arms have been at my sides, unsure what to do. Now, they wrap around his neck. With one hand, I explore the hair on the back of his head. His dark hair feels silky and cool on my fingers. His mouth is hot.