by Autumn, Kyle
But the only thing I want in this room is the only thing not in it.
***
Shiree
I’m running late. One more delivery—I saved the best for last. I thought seeing Chaz before Thirsty Thursday with my girls would cheer me up after a stressful day of traffic and abnormally heavy packages to deliver. But, because I’m a half hour behind and need to get back to headquarters to clock out, I literally have no time to see him.
And running straight into Blake outside Chaz’s office building doesn’t help one bit.
“Oof,” I mumble at the box I’m carrying as I smash right into the brick wall known as Blake’s chest.
The box tumbles to the ground, and I’m left looking like an inept moron as I stare at Blake, not knowing what to say. Not even an apology makes it past my lips. Mostly because he should have been looking out for people in his path, but whatever.
“Oh, hello, Miss James,” he says once he’s done a double take at me.
“Shiree,” I correct him, reaching for the box.
“Right,” he says, his hand out to stop me from bending farther down. “Let me get that.”
“By all means,” I mutter under my breath.
No, I’m not this guy’s biggest fan. He tracked me down for Chaz like I’m some kind of criminal who skipped bail. Though, in his favor, he did keep Chaz in line that day he found me at work. But still. I wouldn’t be in the middle of a fake engagement if he hadn’t sent me to Chaz’s office in the first place.
Yet I wouldn’t be with Chaz at all if he hadn’t sent me to his office. So there’s that. If I’ve learned anything from this whole thing, it’s not to make snap judgments about people. So maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Look,” he says as he stands up, the box in his hands. “I was hoping we’d be able to talk before tomorrow night. Want to come up to my office?”
I shake my head. “I don’t have time. So whatever you want to say will have to be said right here.”
“Okay.” He adjusts the box against his hip and releases a deep exhale. “I think it’s best if you stay away from Chaz until the party tomorrow night. He has a lot on his plate, and his focus needs to be on his job, not another woman. Too many of those have come and gone, and I’d hate to see him hurt again. He hasn’t been the same since Shannon, and I see him falling into the same trap with you.”
I reel my head back and narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?” I snap. Maybe it’s my bad day bleeding through. Or maybe he’s crossed a line. Probably both, because I can’t keep my mouth closed now. “The same ‘trap’? I’m not trying to trap or hurt anyone. I’m the one in a trap right now. And I’m tired of people thinking I’ll break my promise. I said I’d be there, so I’ll fucking be there.”
“Great. That’s what he’s interested in right now,” he says. “A body next to him at this party tomorrow. Nothing more.”
I stare at him in disbelief. I’m so offended that I open my mouth only to close it several times, unsure what to say now. I’m speechless. Tongue-tied. The one who’s ended up hurt. And royally pissed. Blake is Chaz’s “right-hand man.” He must know how Chaz feels about everything. And it’s exactly what I was afraid of before. But Lyra had me considering that he was telling the truth. And dinner last night was perfect. So was the night before. Beyond perfect.
How could anyone fake that kind of honesty and passion? How could anyone believe it when it’s untrue? Have I really been played? I thought I could trust finally trust my gut, but I must have thought wrong.
“If you’re done insulting me, I’ll finish doing my job now. I’m already late,” I tell him as I reach out for the package, tears threatening to escape my eyes and slide down my cheeks.
He keeps the package just out of my grasp. “Oh, that’s okay. I was on my way back up. I’ll deliver this for you. Do you need me to sign anything?”
Honestly, that’s probably for the best. I’m so hurt that, if I see Chaz right now, I might throw the box at his face. Kind of like how I want to punch Blake’s right now. So all I do is shake my head before I spin around, anger blazing through my veins, and storm back to my delivery truck.
Thirsty Thursday has never come at a better time.
Chapter 16
Chaz
I’m still staring at the wall, contemplating my entire existence, when Blake returns with a package.
“This was dropped off for you,” he says, setting it on my desk.
I stand up to open it. “Shiree was here and didn’t come up?”
He shakes his head and looks at the floor. “No, it was someone else.” Then he rushes out with, “Besides, it’s late. Isn’t she usually off work already? She’s probably out with her girlfriends like you said she’d be. Haven’t you talked to her?”
I lower my eyebrows and squint my eyes. He’s acting weird, but I’m not sure I should call him on it. Shiree is probably out, like he said, though I haven’t heard from her yet. So I let it go and move on.
“I’m sure she’s fine. Thanks for this.” I point to the box. “I’m going to head home in a few minutes, so I’ll see you later.”
“Wanna get a drink or something? I already know you’re free tonight, so you have no excuse.” He grins at me.
I mimic his look, not willing to put my cards on the table just yet. “Nah. I should probably make sure I’m available to talk when Shiree gets home tonight. I texted her and asked her to call me so I know she got home okay.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s a grown woman,” he says. “But suit yourself.” He puts his hands in his pockets and walks toward the door. “See you in the morning.”
I nod at him as he leaves. I also debate calling Shiree right now to make sure she’s okay. My gut tells me that something’s fishy, but she’s having a girls’ night. And, if anything were wrong, she’d call me. We’ve developed much better communication at this point. Open honesty. So I have to trust that. Trust her. And not go to the bar, where I’d punch any man looking in her direction.
Yes. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go home and not interrupt her night out with her girlfriends.
But, first, I’ll text her.
Me: Hey. It’s me. I hope you have a great night with your girlfriends. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow night.
There. That’s good. She’ll reply when she has a free moment. Then we’ll sail through the party tomorrow night and everything will be fine.
Except, for some reason, I’m not sure I believe that. And I have to fight the caveman in me harder than ever before.
***
Shiree
Fuck all of this. That’s all I can think as I down my third Sea Breeze. Fuck it all! Fuck this fake engagement business, and fuck Charles Masters and his head games. A half hour earlier, I decided to check my phone, but all I saw was a stupid text from him about seeing him tomorrow night. Which is what quickly led to the second and third drinks.
Lyra, Patti, and Zo keep trying to get the drama out of me. They’ve asked me about the gigantic ring weighing my hand down, but I shouldn’t let loose in a public place. So I’ve just been drinking, dancing with my girls, and ignoring their endless questions. Soon, though, enough will become enough for them. They won’t allow me to put them off any longer, and I won’t blame them. Plus, this shit is becoming too much for my drunk, furious self to contain.
Instead, I let the music take over and dance it all out. When hands land on my hips, my heart skips a beat. For a second, I find myself hoping that Chaz is behind me. But then I remember that shitty text, the reminder to “do my job” and not fuck his life up. And I stop hoping and start swaying to the beat even more.
When he spins me around, I come face-to-face with a man who isn’t Chaz. I have no idea who he is, but he’s kind of cute, so I go with it. The music pulses through my body as his guy’s hands roam free. Normally, I’d care a little more. Tonight, three drinks in and pissed at the world, I’m not at all interested in caring.
Until a
flash of light bounces off the diamond on my left hand. Then I seem to care a whole lot. A whole freaking lot.
So, before I freak the fuck out, I march straight to the door of the bar.
Right behind me, Zo says, “Shiree! Where are you going?”
Patti and Lyra flank her when I peer over my shoulder. But I’m done holding everything in. So I stalk out the door and over to Lyra’s car.
“We don’t have to go anywhere,” I reason with my friends in my slightly drunk state, “but if I’m going to tell you everything, then we can’t be in the bar. No one can hear me. So get in.”
Patti’s the first one to jump into the back seat. Zo follows her, while I get in the passenger’s seat and Lyra takes her designated-driver place behind the wheel.
Lyra locks the doors. “Okay. We’re ready,” she says, looking at the other two girls. Then she gazes at me. “Spill.”
I do. Oh, do I ever. Word vomit like never before leaves me in a rushing stream of mostly coherent frustration. Patti and Zo don’t know the whole story, so I start from what they don’t know. The fake engagement party, the real relationship—or so I thought—and the mind-blowing sex. Ugh, the sex. If it had been bad, I wouldn’t be in this mess. But the Chaz I’ve gotten to know and—I’ll admit—love isn’t the same Charles Masters the world knows. And I so badly want him to be the real one. Yet everything seems to be pointing the other way.
I don’t know which end is up, and though I hope my friends can help, the only way I’ll know is to get past the engagement party and see if Chaz sticks around. Time is the only solution here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find some comfort in commiserating with my girls.
“What the hell?” Patti says when I’ve caught them all up to speed.
“I know,” I groan. “It’s all so fucked up. I have no idea what the truth is, and none of it matters until after the party.”
“Well, Blake sounds like an ass,” Lyra complains. “He didn’t have to get in the middle of it.”
“You should have snatched that box back from him and delivered it yourself,” Zo offers.
Patti sits forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Should we kick his ass?”
Lyra laughs. “Whose? Chaz’s or Blake’s?”
That makes the rest of us giggle.
Then I shake my head. “No one needs an ass-kicking. And, if anyone really does, I’ll do it myself.” I crack a small smile, but honestly, I’m so tired now. Telling the story took whatever I had left after three drinks and too much dancing right out of me. So I rest my head against the seat and ask, “Can we go back to your place, Lyr? I’m ready to crash, but I don’t want to go home.”
“Works for me,” Lyra answers. “We can paint our nails and get our beauty sleep so we’re ready for the party tomorrow night.”
Patti and Zo nod emphatically behind us. “Sounds like a plan!” they say together, which makes us laugh. Then they give each other a look I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Aww, really? You guys are gonna be there tomorrow?” I ask, swooning a little over how awesome my friends are. “I’m gonna need friendly, familiar faces.”
“We wouldn’t miss it, babe,” Patti assures me while Zo smiles her agreement.
“Really?” I direct toward Zo.
“My parents won’t mind if I miss one Friday dinner to be there for my friend,” she tells us.
On that note, Lyra starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. “Oh, hey,” she says offhandedly, glancing at me. “Who was that guy?”
I shrug. “No idea. Whatever.” I just want to shut my phone off, pass out on the couch, and forget any of this ever happened.
Except, for some reason, I’m not sure I believe that. And I have to fight the head-strong girl in me harder than ever before.
***
Chaz
Around midnight, I finally give up trying to get any sleep. Without Shiree next to me, I don’t sleep well. And not having heard from her at all doesn’t help. I tried to call her an hour ago, but it went straight to voicemail. It’s been a while since I’ve put my trust in someone like this, and it’s taking everything I have not to go to her house and make sure everything’s okay.
Instead, I pull myself out of bed and pad down to the kitchen. I left my laptop on the counter, so I power it up and check my e-mail. Apparently, a server went down for a few minutes, but my expert crew promptly had it back up. Then there are a few junk e-mails, but one from Janet catches my eye.
A Google alert for your name popped up tonight. Thought you might want to see this. – Janet
I almost don’t want to know, but I click the link and immediately loathe what I see. The headline mentions my name, all right. But the article isn’t about me. No, it’s all about my “mystery woman.” Who was “caught dancing with another man” at the bar she frequents for her Thursday night girls’ night out. And the photo makes my blood hit the boiling point.
A man’s hands on her hips. Her curls wild as she sways her body too close to him. But my ring still on her finger.
No longer do I have what it takes to keep myself from speeding to her house and demanding answers. I thought we had made the true nature of our relationship perfectly clear, but I won’t go down the same path Shannon paved. There’s a reason my heart’s been guarded and off-limits. Several of them. So this behavior won’t fly.
I call Jay and wait out front for him to arrive. While I wait, I wonder what happened to my loyal woman. The one who doesn’t break promises and follows through on her word. Since when does a real relationship include letting another man dance that close? The longer I think about it, the angrier I become. But, finally, Jay drives up, and by the time I get in the car, I’m fuming with rage.
“Shiree’s house. Now,” I spit out.
He nods and takes off, understanding how urgent the matter is by my tone.
There’s no traffic this late at night, and Jay drives a little faster than usual, so we arrive quickly. He’s barely put the car in park before I’m barreling out the door and rushing to her front step. But pounding on the door produces nothing. She doesn’t answer, and a peek through the window reveals nothing but darkness.
Why haven’t I gotten a key to her house? Did she fucking go home with that guy? Is she fucking him right now? Fuck!
I rip my phone from my pocket and dial Blake. If anyone can find her right now, it’s him.
He answers on the third ring.
“Track her down,” is all I say.
“Chaz? Where are you? What’s going on?”
“I need you to track her down,” I grit out.
Something rustles down the line. Then I hear him say, “I’ll be right back,” before a door closes and he’s back. “Where are you?”
“I don’t have time for that shit, Blake. I need you to find Shiree right now.”
He sighs. “Look, man. I don’t know what happened, but this isn’t—”
I let out a frustrated groan. “Can you find her or not?”
After a beat of silence, he says, “That’s not really how it works. She’s not at home?” he asks.
“The lights aren’t on and she’s not answering the door,” I tell him.
“Well, don’t wake her neighbors. Go back home and call her in the morning. I’m sure everything’s fine.”
My laugh is sardonic. “Nothing is fine. There’s an article online about her dancing with some fuckhead at the bar tonight,” I say as I get back in the car with Jay.
“Oh shit,” he says. After another sigh, he tells me, “Whatever you do, don’t go there. You can’t make a scene. You are way too close to getting back into the board’s good graces. Do not fuck that up, Chaz.”
“Fuck the board. And fuck you too! This is my life we’re talking about. My future. The company is my past.”
Jay glances at me in the rearview while the lights are still on, but then they fade.
“Take us home, Jay.”
Blake says, “You’re talking out of your ass,
Chaz. Go home. Calm down. You’ll talk to her in the morning, okay? Do I need to meet you there?”
No, he doesn’t need to meet me there. Everything was fine before he got in the middle of things. Shiree and I finally made sense of what was going on with us, but Blake can’t see what I see when it comes to her. To us. The bigger picture. That’s what I see when I look at Shiree. Blake’s too caught up in his life with the company, and…
Speaking of Blake’s life. “Where are you?” I ask him.
It’s silent for a moment before he says, “A friend’s place.”
Christ. The board goes to him when I’m too out of line, but he’s doing the same shit I was up until a week ago. All of this shit is so fucked up. So I hang up, not even wanting to deal with him or this situation anymore.
Then I pray that I’ll sleep until the morning, because it can’t come fast enough.
Chapter 17
Chaz
I jolt awake when my phone buzzes in my hand. I have to take a moment to remember where I am and what happened last night, but it all comes rushing back to me. Shiree’s lack of response. The photo of her dancing with that fuckhead. Going to her empty house. Coming back home and pacing the living room until I must have fallen asleep on the couch.
When I remember that I woke up because of my phone, I rush to bring it closer to me, bobbling it in the process.Once I have it straightened out, I see a text message alert. From Shiree. Which sends my heart racing like it’s running a marathon and gunning for first place.
Shiree: Don’t worry. I’ll be there. So will my three friends.
