by K. Webster
Because he’s my friend.
I don’t have too many of those lately and I’ve really come to think of Perry as one. It sucks that I may have potentially screwed up my most valued friendship too.
“You ready?” Perry asks, leaning on the doorjamb of the conference room.
After my altercation with Nate, he sent me to the conference room to continue hunting through contracts, but “out of his way.” I’d been all too happy to get away from that creep.
“Yep.” I pile the contracts on top of each other and neaten them up. “I need to drop these back off at Nate’s.”
Perry is unusually quiet and his features are hard to read. A rock forms in the pit of my stomach. I’d really hoped to see his playful, smiling face. All this seriousness is stressful.
I grab my purse up and the stack of contracts. Perry steps out into the lobby, allowing me to go ahead of him. My knees are wobbly with nerves as I make my way to Nate’s. He’s on his phone chatting with someone but glowers at me as I bring back the contracts. I toss them on his desk and mouth the word, “lunch,” at him. Not waiting for his approval, I bolt out of his office. Perry stands nearby, hands shoved into his pockets and face tilted down.
Great.
He hates me now.
I bet he wants to kill Winston for making him babysit me.
It’s not until we’re in the elevator, alone, that Perry unleashes on me. I expect him to sling angry words at me. What I’m not prepared for is for them to be laced with brotherly concern.
“Jesus, Ash, what the hell happened? Morelli? Really? You should have come to us. Win and I could have helped. Now…” He curses under his breath and scrubs his palm over his face. “Now it’s a fucking forest fire that’ll never get put out.”
“I was trying to avoid all this,” I grumble, hating the emotions rising up inside me threatening tears once again.
“Are you okay?”
I flinch at his words. “What?”
“How are you handling all this?”
I won’t cry. I won’t.
Swallowing hard, I shrug. “I’m fine.”
“Hmm.”
An unexpected laugh tumbles out of me, slightly shrill and a bit crazed. “You’re turning into him.”
His smile is boyish and wide. “New York can’t handle two of us. They’re barely keeping their shit together with just Winny at the helm.” He studies me for a beat, growing serious once more. “He really kicked you and the bird out? What a dick.”
“Shrimp is not impressed,” I agree, “but I guess I had it coming.”
“No, my brother is just an idiot. Don’t worry. He’ll come back around.” He winks at me. “You didn’t really give him a choice in that.” His hand gestures at my outfit.
“I had to pull out the big guns.”
“That you did.” He crosses his arms over his chest and lifts a brow. “Tell me about this boy.”
Boy?
“Tate?”
His nostrils flare as though the name disgusts him. “Your ex. Yeah. What the fuck, Ash? How is this helping?”
The elevator doors open and it gives me an opportunity to escape his probing. There’s still a crowd outside the building. My stomach does an anxious flip.
“Don’t answer any questions,” he grits out, motioning at the chaos just beyond the doors. “Pumpkin Pie will be here soon.”
“Oh God. You named it,” I groan. “Your mother is going to die when she sees your car plastered all over the news.”
He laughs as he opens the glass door to usher me outside. “I can’t always be the favorite child. It’s unfair for the others and Winny cries.”
Our conversation gets trampled by cameras flashing and reporters demanding answers. Someone asks if I’m making my way through the entire Constantine family tree. It takes everything in me to refrain from flipping that asshole off. Perry gives the crowd an arrogant head nod of acknowledgment Keaton would be proud of—like, hey, groupies—as he guides me to his orange eyesore that someone has pulled up to the curb.
“Do you think we’ll make it to Torino’s in time for lunch with Winston?” Perry asks, his voice carrying loud enough to be picked up by a few close cameramen.
“Hope so,” I lie.
He opens the passenger door for me, and once I’m secured inside, he fist-bumps a security guy who brought his car up front, before climbing inside. His engine roars obnoxiously loud as he burns rubber, flying away from the waiting crowd without so much as a wave goodbye.
“Torino’s?” I ask, arching a brow at him.
“Five bucks says Winny and Mother eat there after their meeting. They’ll be thrilled with their visitors.”
“You’re evil, Perry Constantine.”
“I learned from the best.”
Not sure if he means Win or Caroline or both. They’re turning my sweet boy into a monster. This makes me smile.
“You can’t avoid this forever,” he says, weaving in and out of cars, trying to give me a freaking heart attack.
“What? Early death?”
“No, dumbass, Tate.” He says Tate like it’s soured milk he accidently took a swallow of. “How is this helping you and Shrimp win my brother back over?”
Since Perry is driving around aimlessly, I plug in the address to the gyro restaurant in his GPS, before sitting back, picking at one of the leather roses on my purse. “I lost all my friends. The triplets ran them all off. Even Tate.”
“Even more reason for me to hate the guy.”
“You can’t hate him because you’ve never met him,” I grumble.
“I hate him on principle. He’s my brother’s competition.”
An unladylike snort escapes me. “Tate and Winston are in two totally different leagues. Hell, two different planes of existence. Tate is like a tiny blinking star. Winston is a giant black hole sucking everything into his void including the sun and the planets and the whole damn solar system.”
“But you slept with him.”
“I’m not talking to you about this.” I shoot him a fiery look. “You don’t get to be jealous on Win’s behalf.”
“I’m protecting his interests.”
“Now you sound just like him, Perry. Not cute.”
We stew in silence. I kind of wish he’d drop me off.
“I’m sorry,” Perry grumbles. “It’s just been a fucked-up day. I want Winston to be happy. This Tate,” he says sourly again, “is a threat to the only happiness my brother has ever had in his life.”
My heart flutters and a silly smile tugs at my lips. “Win would die if he heard you say I make him happy.”
“Tell him I said it and I’ll kill you.” His smile is teasing and warm. “Tell me Tate isn’t going to be a problem.”
“Tate and I should have been friends and only friends. He’s sweet and funny but a little shy. Awkward even. I don’t want Tate. He was fine for a high school boyfriend, but after being with Win, I realize we weren’t just missing some passion, we were missing all of it.”
“Hmm.”
I roll my eyes because he’s still not convinced, though it is a little sweet how dedicated he is at backing up his big brother. It makes me wonder if Winston knows how much Perry adores him.
“Good luck finding a parking spot,” I state as we pull up to the crummy dive that has the best tzatziki sauce on the planet.
Perry grumbles but I climb out and leave him to sort out his parking issues all alone. Plus, I’d like a second to see Tate before I have Perry breathing down my neck. I push past a few people walking briskly by and step into the Greek restaurant that’s rich with salty meat aromas that make my stomach growl. Tate is standing near the counter, absently scrolling on his phone. His light brown hair is messy and hangs in his eyes. Rather than his usual preppy attire, he’s wearing cargo shorts, loafers, and a navy T-shirt that’s inside out. The unkempt look suits him. Maybe adulthood is treating him well. I sure hope so.
“Long time no see,” I chirp in greeting.
He nearly drops his phone. His grin is wide as he shoves it into his pocket before bear hugging me and spinning me around. Maybe if he’d ever been this excited to see me back when we dated, I’d have enjoyed being his girlfriend more.
“Damn, Ash, you really know how to cause a ruckus.”
“I’m a good girl,” I scoff as he releases me.
“I was never fooled.” His grin is infectious. “You don’t seem like you’re letting it affect you.”
“I’m not easily rattled. You know this.” I shoot a glance over my shoulder. “My uh, boss’s brother is chaperoning me today. I left him to try and find a parking spot.”
We both snigger because there’s no way in hell he’ll find a spot on this road.
“The usual?” he asks as we each grab a tray and stand in line.
“Beef gyro no onions. But make it two. The least I can do is feed Perry after ditching him out there.”
We fall into easy conversation, checking in on each other. He went to Europe with his family for a couple weeks after graduation but is back in the city until it’s time to leave for college. It isn’t until we’re seated at a small table, waiting for our food, that Tate grows serious, his green eyes narrowing in concern.
“The news headlines said…” He trails off. “Do you want me to kill him?”
“Nah, I can handle him myself. Winston’s a great guy beneath all that asshole exterior.”
“Degradation, though?”
“We all have our kinks, I guess. He and I are both consenting adults. It’s fun.”
He considers my words for a bit. “So I was probably boring in comparison.”
“You were a good friend to me. That’s all that matters.”
“Ouch.” He doesn’t wince, though. His grin is still in place. “There’s a reason I kept you safely friend-zoned.” His cheeks flood crimson. “Let’s just say I discovered new things about myself while at a rave in Milan.”
“Oh?” I lean forward, interested in this new turn of events.
He glances around like someone might hear before leaning in and whispering, “I fooled around with a guy.”
“What?” I shriek. “Oh my God! You’re bi?!”
He gnaws on his bottom lip and absently plays with his straw wrapper. “I don’t know what I am. All I know is that it felt hotter and realer than anything I’ve ever known before.”
“We should have never slept together,” I say with a laugh.
“We were pitiful virgins. No one else would take us.”
We’re still laughing when Perry storms in looking so much like Winston it’s comical. I wave at him and give him my most innocent smile.
“Trouble finding a spot?”
He flips me off. “I just paid some random window-washing dude a thousand bucks to drive around the block a few times. You’re an asshole, Ash.”
“Oops.” I gesture at Perry. “Tate, meet Perry. Perry, meet my friend Tate.”
Perry drops into the seat next to me, his cocky, arrogant expression so over the top I want to smack him. This attitude has Winston written all over it.
“Hey, man,” Tate says, offering his hand.
Perry shakes it, a little too hard because Tate winces. “Hey.”
“We were just talking about what a freak your brother is in the bedroom,” I explain, noting the quirk of amusement on Perry’s lips.
Tate kicks me under the table and I scowl at him.
“So,” Perry rumbles, his penetrating stare on Tate. “Tell me what it is you’re doing here with my brother’s girl.”
“Oh my God,” I groan. “Stop or go get back in the orange abomination.”
“I was hoping we could be friends again. Though, Scout said—”
“Scout is laid up in a hospital bed, both his knees broken, and looking at jail time for reckless driving while under the influence.” Perry narrows his eyes. “I wouldn’t listen to a damn word a Mannford says.”
Tate gapes at me, fear glimmering in his green eyes. “I, uh, I’m not—”
“Ignore Perry. He’s found the stick that was in his big brother’s ass and decided to sit on it.”
The man who took our order brings out a tray of food, temporarily interrupting our tense lunch. I pass out our food to each of us before handing the tray back to the guy. Once he’s gone, I ignore Perry to focus on my gyro. It’s so good. Glancing over at Tate, he’s grinning around a bite of his. This was one of our favorite places to go. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until now.
“That should do it,” Perry says, pocketing his phone.
“What?”
Perry shrugs and pokes at his gyro. “What is this?”
“It’s not caviar or whatever Caroline fed to you as a baby. It’s a gyro. So good. Eat it and you’ll thank me.”
My phone buzzes from inside my purse that’s sitting on my lap. Perry’s grin is wolfish.
“Answer it,” he encourages.
Great.
I take a huge bite of my gyro before setting the messy thing down in order to clean off my hands and fish out my phone. It’s a text from Winston.
Win: Get up and walk out the door right now in exchange for dinner at the whore apartment with the noisy-ass bird.
Me: Jealous?
Win: Of the picture of you and the precious little boy you were making googly eyes at as you deep throated whatever the fuck you were eating? No.
Me: Fine, but Tate is gay. Just so you know.
Win: Tell your gay fuck buddy you’re leaving. Now, Cinderelliott.
I tap out at least seventeen middle-finger emojis before I hit send. Then, I type out my actual reply.
Me: See you tonight. Bring your coupon book. We still need to use the movie night coupon.
Win: I burned the coupon book. Besides…your apartment didn’t come with a television.
Me: Liar. I bet you carry the coupon book in your pocket. (And who needs a TV when you have a laptop?) I’ll leave as soon as I finish my meal. Not negotiating that no matter how much I want you in my lair because this gyro tastes better than you do. Sorry not sorry.
Win: Five minutes, little girl. Wolf it down like you wolf down my dick.
Me: Deal. See you soon, boyfriend.
Win: We’re nothing. Just a transaction.
Me: Hmm…
Win: Four minutes. I’m done talking to your bratty ass.
I send him a few more texts to try and goad him but he’s clearly done with playing because he doesn’t bite. Quickly, I devour my gyro in less than two minutes and spend the next two jabbering to Tate, ignoring every sneer or scoff Perry throws my way.
Win would be so proud of his little brother.
When the time is up, I give Tate a hug, promise to keep in touch, and then help Perry chase down his stupid orange monster car. For starting the day off with a sex scandal with a billionaire, it’s turned out to be a pretty great one. I’m hoping tonight I can convince Winston I’m sorry for keeping Leo’s blackmail and threats from him so the two of us can go back to being Ash and Win.
Filthy freaks who are more than a transaction.
So much more.
He’ll see. I’ll make sure of it.
CHAPTER NINE
Winston
I’m losing the battle and I blame Perry.
That picture he sent me pissed me off. I’d told Ash I didn’t care who she had lunch with but I’m a liar. Seeing her looking so carefree and happy with that child sent me over the edge. So much for keeping my cool when it comes to her.
Which is why, after a long-ass day dealing with attorneys and Mother and the vulture horde of reporters, I’m standing outside the whore apartment.
Nervous.
No, annoyed.
Whatever it is, it makes me tense as fuck.
I rap on the door with my knuckles. Even the sound of that is impatient and irritated. As though just three knocks gives Ash a preview of my mood. Spoiler alert: It’s not good.
She opens the door seconds later, a
bright smile on her face. I sweep my stare over her body, disappointed she’s no longer wearing the sexy-ass dress she had on earlier. My annoyance fades as I appreciate her new outfit. Cutoff denim shorts and an off-the-shoulder, thin, mauve-colored shirt that shows a black bra underneath. She’s barefoot, her cute toes painted an orangy-red.
“Hey,” she greets. “Come in. Dinner’s almost ready.”
She turns on her heel giving me a perfect view of her tight, round ass that hangs out of her shorts. I’m not sure if her intention was to drive me crazy with a cheap pair of shorts or if it was purely innocent. Something tells me it’s the former. The girl has been playing an A-game way out of her league and whipping my ass while she’s at it. I’d be proud if it didn’t piss me off so bad.
I shut the apartment door behind me and lock it. A flash of pink divebombs me, screeching angrily. Shrimp lands on my shoulder, chirping all sorts of bitchy birdie nonsense in my ear.
“It’s her fault,” I explain, reaching up to stroke his tiny head. “Don’t worry, I punished her earlier.”
After flapping his wings several times, he settles and sets to pecking behind my ear like I suddenly got infested with fleas overnight without him there to look after me. Ash is standing in the kitchen, stirring something in a skillet. It smells surprisingly appealing, though it’s unusual looking.
“Sloppy joes,” she says. “I was craving them.”
My lip curls up when I notice the hamburger buns. Surely she doesn’t expect me to eat that slop on a bun. When she starts dishing up two plates, I realize that, yes, I’m going to have to put that redneck shit in my mouth. If it didn’t smell so damn good, I’d probably leave without another word, and take her bird with me as punishment.
“Beer is in the fridge.” She points toward it. “I picked up the kind you like.”
So domestic.
More so than she’s ever been at my place. For some reason, this bothers me. How is she more comfortable in the whore apartment than in one of the finest homes in the city? Shrimp doesn’t even have anywhere to fly. It’s basically a shithole and Ash is practically singing with cheer. I’ve spent the entire goddamn day immersed in stress while she’s been living her best life.
Shrimp decides I’m critter-free and flaps off toward his cage. I pull out a couple beers from the fridge and set them on the bar once I’ve popped the caps. I wonder how in the hell she managed to buy beer since she’s only eighteen, but I figured with the dress she had on earlier, she got whatever the fuck she wanted with just her pretty smile. Ash sets our food down before climbing onto a stool.
