Rough Edges

by Adriana Hunter

  Yawning, she went to the kitchen, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, drinking straight from the carton. The cold acidic liquid cut through the fog in her head. She drained the carton, then tossed it in the trash.

  “I’m going to hell for this.” Her mother certainly would have given her hell for not using a glass, but Scarlett didn’t have the energy to care at the moment.

  Knocking interrupted her thoughts. Scarlett glanced at the clock. It had been all of fifteen minutes since Gina called. Sighing, she opened the door to a smiling Gina.

  “Were you camped at Julian’s when you called?”

  “Actually, I was already paying when I called. Got lucky I guess.” Gina breezed past Scarlett, heading for the living room couch. She deposited the lattes and muffins on the coffee table before turning to look at Scarlett.

  “You look like you were ridden hard and put away wet, Scarlett.” The smile on Gina’s face faded, replaced by a look of concern. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why do you think I’d be anything but fine?” She sounded snappish and irritable, even to herself, and she didn’t miss the hurt look in Gina’s eyes.

  Scarlett dropped down onto the couch, picking up one of the lattes. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, really. I’m just tired. Really tired. And you woke me up.” She took a sip of the latte. It was creamy and smooth and smelled like vanilla.

  “Yeah, you never did wake up in a good mood. Sorry about that.” Gina took a bite of a muffin, talking around falling crumbs. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice. You’d never leave if I didn’t.” Scarlett smiled over the rim of the coffee cup.

  “You know me well. Now give with the details. How was the club? Did you have raging sex while tied up? What did he do to you?”

  Scarlett set down the coffee, trying to decide just how much of last night she was ready to tell Gina. It all still seemed new, almost raw, and she was still trying to make sense of it herself.

  “It wasn’t quite what I thought. He did tie me up, on this really big X-shaped cross. A St. Andrew’s cross, I think it’s called.”

  Gina’s muffin stopped halfway to her mouth. “Really? In public?”

  Scarlett shook her head. “No. We had a private session. But it was weird. I knew there were other people in other rooms, doing things to each other. I could hear them. There’s only a curtain over the doorway to the hall. It’s private, but not as private as I thought.”

  Gina leaned forward, an atavistic gleam in her eyes. “So you were basically having sex in public?”

  “No…well, not there, at least. Later.” She felt herself blushing furiously. “I mean, we didn’t have sex in the club, exactly. It…things didn’t go the way I thought they would.”

  “Then where the hell did you have sex?”

  “In the alley next to the club.” Scarlett closed her eyes, partly in embarrassment, but mostly because of the sudden image that rose up, of Wesley, his eyes locked with hers as he took her there, against the rough bricks.

  “Jeez, Scarlett.”

  Scarlett opened her eyes. Gina was staring at her, the half-eaten muffin forgotten. “Are you sure this is a good thing for you? You’re doing things even I wouldn’t do. And that’s saying a lot.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Gina. I’m not turning tricks in an alley with strangers.” As soon as she heard the words and saw the look on Gina’s face, she knew there’d be no stopping Gina’s tirade. She held up her hand even before Gina drew a breath to start in on her.

  “I know exactly what you’re going to say, so you don’t have to bother. Yeah, I’ve only known Wesley since Friday. Yeah, he’s practically a stranger. But he’s not. He’s…there’s something…we’re a…” She couldn’t quite get the word couple out of her mouth.

  “We have a relationship.”

  “Yeah, and I have a relationship with the counterman at Julian’s. You’re having a weekend fling. Come Monday, reality returns and you’ll never hear from him again.”

  “It’s not like that. Wesley’s not like that.”

  “Okay. What’s Wesley’s last name?”

  Scarlett stared at Gina, words stalling on her tongue. “I…it’s not like that.”

  “What’s his cell phone number?”

  “I have that.” She thought she did. Wesley had taken her phone and punched his number into her contacts. “I think I have that.”

  “Scarlett, come on. You don’t know the guy’s last name and you think you have his cell phone number. How the hell are you ever going to find him again if he never calls? Are you going to chase him down at Diablo or that other place?”

  “I might. But I have his number.” She clung to the stubborn hope he’d actually given her his number and not some bogus one.

  “Why are you doing this to me, Gina? For the first time I’m having fun, living a little. Are you jealous? Is that why you want to tear this down?”

  Gina set the mangled muffin on the coffee table. “Kid, I’m not jealous of something that doesn’t exist.” She stood and crossed to the couch, sitting beside Scarlett. “I want you to see what this really is before you get hurt. It’s a fling with a guy who manipulates women. And not just into buying him dinner or a movie or putting gas into his car.”

  Scarlett frowned, opening her mouth to speak, but Gina went on. “Don’t bother defending him or this relationship thing you think you have. You’re in over your head, and you know it.”

  Gina went on, her voice taking on that I-know-better tone that grated on Scarlett’s nerves. “For all you know, he could be some kind of thief. He could have gone through your purse while you were drugged, gotten your credit card numbers, all that stuff. Ever think of that? You could be in way more trouble than just having your heart broken.”

  “He’s not like that. He’s not like that at all. You don’t understand, and you’re not trying to, either. You’re being mean because you’re jealous, and you can’t be happy when I am. You want me unhappy so you can play the best friend and make your own life seem better by comparison.” Tears pricked against her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

  “Stop pouting, Scarlett. It didn’t work when we were kids, and it won’t work now.” Gina stood, looking down at her, but Scarlett refused to meet her friend’s eyes.

  “If you’re not going to be happy for me, or with me, or whatever, then you can go.” Scarlett folded her arms across her chest, glaring down at the muffins on the table.

  “There’s no talking to you once you’re like this, Scarlett. I’m gonna go home now. Finish the muffins and enjoy the latte. Call me when you get your head on straight.”

  Scarlett jumped as Gina slammed the door. The apartment was suddenly quiet and all the anger that Scarlett had leaked out, leaving her empty and sad. Gina was only looking out for her, trying to protect her. It’s what friends did. It’s what Gina always did.

  “But I don’t need protecting this time.” Her voice echoed back in the quiet apartment.

  Scarlett took one last look at the muffins and pushed herself up from the couch. She was too keyed up to go back to sleep. The sun had started to set, and she glanced at the clock above the stove.

  It was after six. That qualified as later. Her purse was on the floor, among the rubble of her clothing. She found her cell phone, resisting the urge to check her wallet for cash and credit cards. Gina was being stupid. Wesley hadn’t ripped her off. He wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t. She trusted him.

  “See. There it is.” Wesley’s cell number was in her contacts. Relief washed through her and she felt a twinge of guilt. Gina’s words had made her paranoid. Nothing was wrong, except Gina.

  Scarlett hit dial and the call went through. It rang and then clicked over to voicemail. Wesley’s voice announced that he was unable to answer, please leave a message.

  “Hi, it’s me. Scarlett. Just checking in. Give me a call back. Talk to you soon.” She rattled off her number and flipped the phone shut. Sh
e held on to it, looking down at it in her hand, willing it to ring. After a few minutes, she tossed the phone on the bed and got up. Staring at a phone never made it ring. Ignoring them worked though.

  She went back to the living room, picking through the muffins until she found a chocolate one. The latte was cold but she drank it anyway, wanting the caffeine buzz. Her head was a mess, the argument with Wesley mixing with Gina’s words, leaving behind a jumble of emotions. She didn’t know anymore how she felt, other than confused.

  It was after eight when she decided she’d go look for Wesley. She’d called and left one more message. The phone had gone straight to voicemail, and she frowned at the phone. Was he screening calls? Taking a call?

  “You’re losing it, Scarlett. Seriously.”

  She grabbed the first pair of clean jeans from her closet and pulled on a t-shirt and hoodie and her boots. Her car keys were still in her purse, and she fished them out.

  The drive to Diablo seemed longer now that she was in her own car and not in a taxi. The excitement she’d felt on Friday was replaced now with anxiety. Was it only Friday that she’d met Wesley? It seemed like an eternity and a heartbeat combined.

  The bouncer was the same guy she’d seen before, and he obviously recognized her. With a wink, he opened the door for her and she stepped inside.

  For a Sunday, Diablo was busy, a crush of people at the bar, the dance floor crowded. Scarlett worked her way to the bar, peering over the heads of the crowd, looking for Wesley. She didn’t see him, but she couldn’t see to the far end of the bar.

  “What can I get you, lady?”

  She looked at the bartender leaning toward her.

  “I’m looking for Wesley. Is he working tonight?”

  The snort of laughter she got surprised her. The man straightened, shaking his head.

  “You another groupie? He’s off on Sundays. You’d think by now you’d all know his schedule. Try that other club he hangs out at.” The man turned and walked away.

  Scarlett fought her way back to the door, out into the cool night air. The bouncer eyed her up again and smiled, looking like he wanted to talk. Before he could get the chance, she headed back down the street to where she’d parked her car.

  Finding the club was more difficult than finding Diablo. After many wrong turns and dead ends, she finally pulled up at the deserted-looking building. The valet opened her door, hand held out for the keys.

  “I’m looking for someone. I won’t be long. Can I just leave the car here?”

  “Twenty minutes. Any longer and it risks getting towed.”

  “Okay.”

  The doorman held the door and she walked down the hallway into the lounge. It was much less crowded than it had been last night, and she scanned the couples and groups scattered around the room.

  “Hey, how you doing?” Stacy appeared as if by magic at Scarlett’s elbow, eyes bright, smile in place.

  Stacy was covered from neck-to-toe in what looked like a latex cat suit that left nothing to the imagination. She looked like a dangerous pixie. Scarlett was pretty sure the play-piercing had been removed. The latex was stretched tightly across Stacy’s back and if there was anything bigger than a speck of lint beneath the material, it would be visible.

  “I’m good. I’m looking for Wesley.”

  Stacy’s smile never changed, but something in her eyes shifted gears. “He’s in a session, love. A private session.”

  “Oh. Can I wait for him?” She took a step toward the bar.

  “It’s Scarlett, right?” Stacy linked her arm through Scarlett’s, turning her away from the bar, back toward the hallway and the exit.

  “Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, still searching for Wesley, confused over what was happening. “But I can just sit…”

  “Okay. Scarlett, here’s the deal. Wesley’s a regular and we like him. He’s easy on the eyes, gives good sessions, and he’s low-drama. He is now, at least. Thing is, that used to be different. He was high-drama, and not in a good way. Get what I’m saying?”

  Scarlett looked down at Stacy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  They were almost to the door of the club, back in the hallway. It was quiet there, and Stacy’s voice was low.

  “You seem like a nice girl, Scarlett. Maybe too nice. Can I be frank?”

  Scarlett frowned. “I thought you were.”

  Stacy waved her hand. “I don’t know what your deal is with Wesley, and to be honest, I don’t care. We want everyone to have a good time here, and that means no jilted ex-playmates showing up. Got it? You’re welcome to come back anytime, with an escort.”

  Somewhere a bouncer had joined them, and the big burly man was now holding the door open. Scarlett realized Stacy was tossing her out of the club.

  “But I want to see Wesley.”

  “I’m sure you do. And you can see him any place you want. Except here and now.”

  Stacy glanced at the man, and somehow Scarlett found herself being gently handed out of the door. The valet was standing by her car, holding the door open. She turned back, but the door was closing behind her, the doorman moving to stand in front of it, an implacable wall of black.

  She walked to her car, got in, and started the engine. The valet moved back to the door, the doorman bending his head for a brief conversation before reaching for a cell phone. Stacy didn’t wait to see who’d come out to tell her to move on. She put the car in gear and drove away.

  There was no way she could go home and after circling the block twice, garnering more glowering looks from the doorman and valet, she turned the car in the opposite direction, toward Wesley’s apartment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Scarlett sat in her car, watching the door to Wesley’s apartment building. She felt like a stalker, a bad one. She’d been waiting for what seemed like hours, running the heater when she got cold, shifting in her seat as her legs fell asleep.

  More than anything, she felt like a fool. Wesley had made his decision, decided the club and the anonymous girls were where he’d rather be. It hurt, badly.

  But even if he had made that decision, she wanted to hear it from him. She thought he at least he owed her that much.

  It was after one when his car pulled around the corner, disappearing behind the building. After a moment he appeared on the sidewalk, walking into the building. He was alone, and for a moment she wondered what she’d done if he’d come home with someone.

  Finally the light went on in his apartment and she climbed out of her car. Her legs were wobbly and she wasn’t sure if it was from sitting for hours, the cold, or nerves. But she forced herself to walk across the street to the door. She found the buzzer for his apartment, glancing down at the little nametag. J. Montgomery.

  “Montgomery.” At least she knew that much more about him.

  The buzzer sounded and the door clicked open. Either he was expecting someone or he knew it was her. Or he let random people into the building.

  As she climbed the stairs, she heard a door open above her. When she reached the top, she saw it was the door to Wesley’s apartment, standing open. She walked down the hall and turned into the open doorway.

  “I knew it was you.”

  Wesley came around the corner from the kitchen, a beer in his hand. He held it up, tilting his head. When she didn’t answer, he shrugged and opened the bottle.

  “First rule of stalking. Don’t park across from the guy’s apartment. Might want to remember that for next time.”

  She thought he was pretending to be drunk. There was no alcohol in sessions at the club. Unless he’d gone out with…whoever. Scarlett shook herself. It wasn’t going to do her any good to make things up.

  “You went back to the club?”

  Wesley dropped into a chair by the kitchen table. “I did.” He looked up at her, and she thought she saw a challenge in his eyes.

  Scarlett pulled out the other chair, perching on the edge. “Did you pick someone up there? Did you have se
x with her?”

  “Guilty on both counts.” He sat forward, leaning on the table. “Is that a problem for you?”

  “Well, I thought we were…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t call them a couple, not after what he’d said this afternoon. He had said the word relationship earlier and she’d thought he meant what he said.

  “…in a relationship.”

  “You’re holding me to a commitment because I said one word?” He held her gaze, eyes hard and cold, then lifted the bottle and drained it.

  “What exactly do you want from me, Scarlett? You’ve been calling me, you went to Diablo. Looked for me at the club. Everyone’s telling me this girl is after me. Now I find you camped out here, waiting for me.” Wesley rose, walked to the refrigerator, and took out another beer. “You sure you don’t want one?”

  Scarlett shook her head. “I’m not stalking you, if that’s what you think. I’m confused.”

  Wesley sat back down. “About what?” He tipped back the bottle, taking a long swallow.

  “About us. What we are. What you think we are.”

  Wesley set the beer down on the table. “What we had, here that first night, then at the club, it’s been great. Really great. But I’m not looking for anything else right now.”

  The pit of Scarlett’s stomach went cold. “There’s nothing else, nothing at all? You’ve got no interest in me other than a girl you got to initiate into your little group?”

  Wesley frowned. “You wanted to come to the club. That was your idea. But you’ve got to know enough about me now…after today…that I’m not the guy you should be interested in.”

  “So what happened to trying? Trying to not go to the club? Trying to have a relationship with me? Or did you forget that part of our discussion?”

  He took another swallow of beer, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah, well, slip of the tongue, or something. Or wishful thinking on your part.”

  “So the whole making things right by making things better was just a lie? Was anything you said today the truth?”

  “Don’t twist what I say, Scarlett.” His voice held an edge, one she didn’t like.