by Zara Cox
“That was exhilarating. I love English guys! Can I do it again?” she begged, licking her full lips.
Cara shook her head. “No, you shameless slut. You’re in town for my wedding, not to get laid every other night. You’re only limited to one flash,” she grinned. “Now, my turn. I, too, will take a dare, if you please.”
Whoops erupted round the table and Lexi cringed at the brazen look in Cara’s eyes.
“Okaaay,” Sally looked around. “I dare you to do whatever it takes to get a hundred quid from that guy over there with the pouting blonde.”
“Sally!”
“Oh relax, Lexi, it’s just a game,” Sally remonstrated.
“Yeah, stop getting your thong in a twist, girlfriend, and watch a professional at work,” Cara chided.
Pulling out her compact mirror from her purse, Cara checked her appearance, and tweaked a few hairs. She pushed back her shoulders to display even more of her D-cups, stood up and with casual ease strode toward the blonde entwined around her target.
She tapped the girl on the shoulder. When she had her attention, she leaned up to the taller woman and whispered in her ear. The girl jerked back, surprise in her eyes as her mouth dropped open. She leaned over and spoke to her boyfriend. A broad smile broke over his face and he whispered back. The blonde’s wary stare at her boyfriend gradually turned sensuous and, with a slow sexy smile, she handed her glass to him, turned to Cara and nodded.
Cara stepped closer, ran one hand up the blonde’s arm until she cupped her shoulder. She squeezed gently, then continued the trail up to slide around her nape. Gliding her other hand around her waist, she pulled the blonde closer and covered her mouth in a sensual kiss.
For several seconds, the kiss went on and, even though the others couldn’t see her, Lexi tried not to cringe at such a public display. As much as she hated the prude label and wanted rid of it, she knew she would never have enough confidence to discard her inhibitions long enough to participate in such a voyeuristic act.
While the other girls giggled uncontrollably at the outrageous floorshow, she fixed a smile on her face and cringed inwardly.
When the two finally parted, she breathed a sigh of guilty relief. Cara sauntered back to the table, triumphantly holding up the money the boyfriend had coughed up.
She slapped it on the table and turned to Lexi. “Your turn.”
“No, I’ll go last. Sally, truth or dare,” she asked, and prayed her friend wouldn’t go for the latter. She couldn’t stand another floorshow like the last one, and she’d had enough of being called a prude for one night.
“Truth.”
Relief eased through her.
“Okay. Something I’ve always wondered,” Cara broke in, her feverish gaze raking Lexi’s face before returning to Sally. “Have you and Lexi ever slept together?”
Sally splattered her drink all over the table, surprise plastered on her model-thin face. “Are you kidding? I always have and always will prefer my bed partners with a whole lot of meat between their legs. So does Lexi, I believe.” She winked at Lexi and took another sip of her drink.
“And last but not least, Lexi. Truth or dare?” Fiona asked.
She bit her lip, knowing she was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. There was no way she’d take a dare after seeing what the other two had entailed; but the avid faces of the other three girls told her whatever truth she’d be asked to reveal would be very personal and very sexual. She’d look like a spoilt sport if she chickened out. “Truth,” she all but whispered.
Cara pounced before anyone else could. “Have you ever fantasized about being fucked in a very public place, maybe with other people watching?” She grinned at the gasps around the table. “I just, you know…wondered, you being such a prude and all.”
Lexi froze. Somehow, Cara had tapped into her deepest, wildest fantasy. She knew she talked a lot when she was drunk. The last time she’d been off her face had been at her birthday party. Had she blurted out her secret then, at the one occasion when she’d drank way more than was good for her?
After years of being called a prude, she’d often wondered if she was perhaps too conservative when it came to sex. With Enzo, she’d begun to think she wasn’t, but for years she’d fantasized about what it would be like to break out of her shell sexually. And the one recurring fantasy she’d had was of being fucked in a public place, where all the guys who’d mocked her inhibitions could see her and regret their name-calling. But how the fuck had Cara known?
“Come on, Lexi, we’re waiting. Truth, truth, truth, truth,” the girls chanted.
She bit her lip. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’ve…thought about it, I guess. No more than anyone else, I’m sure.”
“And?” Cara pressed, as she took another healthy slug of her drink.
Lexi shrugged self-consciously. “And nothing. I’ve only thought about it.”
“W-would you like to?” Cara slurred.
“Stop it, Cara, now you’ve got her all hot and bothered. Here, Lexi, have a drink, calm your nerves.” Sally shoved a cocktail glass in her hand.
“No, I’m driving, remember?”
“Fuck it, one little drink won’t hurt. Besides I’d rather have you driving with calm nerves than all twisted up the way you are now,” she teased. “God, you’d think we’ve asked you whether you love anal.”
Jesus. Sometimes, she wondered why she called these girls her friends.
“Fine.” Willing her cheeks to stop burning, she grabbed the glass and downed the mouthful. The unexpected heat of the vodka worked its way down her throat. Grimacing at the tartness of the cranberry juice, she set the glass down and looked up to find Cara’s gaze on her.
“So-o you gonna anssswer my question?”
Not in this lifetime. “No more questions. I’ve played the game, fair and square. Now, I think it’s time to go.” Hurriedly she stood, gathered the purses and handbags, and busied herself with making sure the tab was settled. All the while, she felt Cara’s drunken gaze on her. Without looking her way again, she led the other two girls out into the pre-dawn air. She paused, inhaled a welcome breath of fresh air, only to have it whoosh out of her when slim arms closed around her.
“I l-l-ove you, Lexiiii. You’re my best friend, e-ever!” Cara exclaimed.
“Hey, I thought I was your best friend ever?” Fiona whined from behind them.
Cara tried to focus on the voice behind her, failed, and swayed on her feet. “Sure y’aarr, Fi,” she shouted, then turned to Lexi, “But I’m reeeeally glad you’re going ta be my sisthher, well, sort-a.”
Regardless of the hopelessly slurred and contrary words, Lexi experienced a rush of warmth and relief at hearing them. She clung to the hope that Cara’s negative attitude had just been the unfounded fears of an insecure sister, rather than a future sister-in-law who hated her guts.
She mentally crossed her fingers. Everything would be fine. She’d probably imagined Cara’s disapproval. After all, why else would she offer herself as bridesmaid if she didn’t like the idea of her marrying Enzo?
“Love you too, Cara. Now, are you okay to walk, or do you want to sit over there while I fetch the car?” She indicated the bench nearby. Secretly, she hoped they could make it to the car under their own steam. Enzo waited for her. In half an hour, she would be in his arms again. If she hurried.
“I’m fine, fine, fine,” Cara sing-songed, then broke into, “I’m getting married in the morning, tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la…”
Relieved, Lexi chuckled as she hooked an arm around her and steered her away from the curb. “You’re not getting married for another eight days, love, and the car’s this way. Girls, are you all right back there?” she threw over her shoulder at the other two, who propped each other up behind her.
“We’re fine, mistress. Lead the way,” they chorused.
She smiled. Aside from a few bumps, the evening had gone well. In less than half an hour, it was going to get way better.
She
quickened her steps to her car and waited till everyone piled in.
Cara and Fiona were belting their way through a Coldplay anthem song when the truck veered across the street and careened straight into their path.
Horns blared.
Someone screamed.
The last thing Lexi saw was the flash of her engagement ring as she threw up her hands in useless defense.
Then the black cloud engulfed her.
CHAPTER TWO
Twelve Months Later
Lexi stepped from the car and sucked in her breath as the hot Los Angeles air stung her nostrils. She still wasn’t used to how warm the weather was here compared to the constant wet in London.
In the fading evening light, she looked up at the austere façade of the building in front of her. Pain and sorrow gripped her as it did every time she came here.
Everything remained the same. The sign at the top of the building still read, St. Jude’s Hospital. The automatic doors she approached would delay in opening until she stood right in front of them, the elevator would creak and groan its way up to the seventh floor, and the smell – the cloying mingled smell of disinfectant and death – would tighten around her throat, as if to strangle her.
Sometimes it took days before the smell came off. It hung around - in her car, her clothes, her hair. Commanding her to never forget.
Never forget.
As if she would.
She touched the inside of her right forearm where the long, thin, jagged scar mocked her. If ever she were in danger of forgetting, she only had to look at her arm to remember. Remember the—
“Hi there, Miss Mayfield. Lord, is it Friday already? The days sure are flying, aren’t they?” The buxom black nurse with the salt and pepper hair who worked the evening shift frowned at the calendar on the counter.
“Yes, they are. But it’s not Friday. I have to go out of town, so I decided to come a day early.” Lexi summoned a smile and approached the desk. “I won’t stay long.”
“Oh, okay. I thought I was going out of my mind. That, or getting old, which I am, no doubt there. Well, go right on through. There’s been no change, unfortunately. But our prayers will be answered one of these days, I’m sure of it.” Her smile was benign as she came round the counter and fell into step beside Lexi.
“Thank you.”
The older woman laid a hand on her arm. “No, child, don’t thank me. I think your devotion has helped a whole lot. The family should be thanking you.”
You wouldn’t say that if you knew. Your smile would turn into a sneer if you only knew the truth. She said nothing. Only nodded and accompanied Nurse Simpson to the last door along the quiet corridor.
She hesitated. When the nurse motioned her inside and departed, Lexi closed the door behind her and approached the bed, the familiar, harrowing, feelings of guilt, sadness and regret, eating away like deadly acid inside her.
Drawing level with the bed, she placed her bag on the floor, pulled up the chair and sat down, never once taking her eyes off the prone form covered with the thin hospital sheet.
She reached out and curled her fingers gently over the open hand resting on the bed.
“Hi, it’s Lexi,” she whispered as hot tears clouded her eyes.
She’d imagined her tears would’ve dried up by now, but apparently not. Tears choked her every time she came to the hospital. Some would call it just penance for her sins. But Lexi didn’t mind the tears; she welcomed them in fact. At least it showed she was still alive, somewhere deep inside the hollow, numb automaton she had become.
As usual, there was no movement from the bed. The only sounds in the room - the beeping of the heart monitor and the rise and fall of the ventilator - gave what little reassurance it could, that somewhere within the still, pale body on the bed, a spark of life remained.
She sat in silence. She’d given up praying a long time ago. After months of feverishly reciting every prayer she’d ever learned and making up reams of her own, all to no avail, she’d reached the conclusion that prayers were useless. All she could do was be here, infuse what little dregs of hope she had through her touch, her presence.
After what seemed like only a few minutes, she heard voices outside the door. She squinted at her watch and, with a jolt, realized two hours had passed.
Oh God, she couldn’t have been here that long! Tension gripped her already stiff shoulders, and she turned toward the door, dread rising as it opened.
At the sight of the figure framed in the doorway, Lexi froze.
Bloody hell.
She’d really hoped to avoid this particular confrontation.
Before she could adjust to the situation or even think up a greeting, the woman approached and snapped, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Lexi folded her hands in her lap. “Same thing you are, I think.”
“But it’s Thursday. We agreed on the days we would visit. Thursdays are my days. So what the fuck are you doing here?” Her so-familiar eyes flashed green fire as she quickly pulled a swathe of shoulder length dark hair to cover the left side of her face.
Lexi’s heart twisted at the gesture. “Look, Cara, I don’t want any trouble. I’m sorry I encroached on your time. I hadn’t intended on staying this long. I only came because I have to go out of town—”
The part of Cara’s face she could see contorted in a withering sneer. “Fleeing back to jolly ole England, are you? Leaving us to pick up the pieces you broke our lives into.”
“No! I’m not going back to London. I have to go to Vegas for a few days.”
The sneer intensified. “It’s good for some, isn’t it? Today Las Vegas, tomorrow New York, the next Aspen.” Cara towered over her and Lexi felt hate wash over her in sickening waves.
“I have to go because it’s my job. I’ll only be gone for a few days. Next week we can resume our normal routine, and you won’t have to see me. I was leaving anyway, so I need not disturb your visit.” She gave the hand on the bed one last squeeze and rose.
As she passed her, Cara grabbed her arm in a tight, painful hold, forcing Lexi to stop. “How can you remain so calm? I know you English have that stiff upper lip thing going on, but this is sick. Don’t you feel even an ounce of remorse for what you did?”
Dry, shocked laughter escaped Lexi. “How can you say that? Would I be here if I didn’t? I tried to talk to you after—after what happened, but you refused to talk to me. If you would just talk to me, Cara—”
Her arm was forcefully thrust away. “I have nothing to say to you. Not after what you did. I told you, I never want to see you again. You make me sick! In the future, if you’re going to change the visiting arrangements, inform the nursing staff so they can tell me. Now, get the fuck outta here!” She turned her back on Lexi and walked to the bed.
Lexi picked up her bag, raw pain slicing through her. At the door, she paused. Cara leaned over the bed and took the hand she herself had held for the last two hours. For the sake of her sanity, she decided to give it one last try.
“Cara—”
She rounded on her. “Are you deaf? I told you I have nothing to say to you,” she spat with enough venom to make Lexi gasp.
Cara turned back to the bed, her voice gentling dramatically. “Fiona, it’s Cara. I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve come to see you.”
Lexi choked back her sobs and stumbled out the door. The pale hospital walls receded as memories crashed through her head like giant waves.
Twelve months. Or to be exact, eleven months, three weeks and one day, since the crash that had ripped four lives and families apart.
She tore down the hall, the echo of her heels taking her back…back…
London...the night of the bachelorette party…four giggling women getting into Lexi’s Beetle…Lexi secretly pleased they all lived relatively close together so she could drop them all off and still make it to Enzo’s house within the half hour.
Was that why she’d been going a tad over the speed limit? Probably.
&
nbsp; All she knew was that none of them had made it home that night.
The last thing she remembered was turning into the road leading to the apartment Cara shared with Ian, her panic at the blinding lights of the truck that loomed out of nowhere…on the wrong side of the road… She remembered the screams, the horrible screams, before everything turned black.
She’d come out of a hazy fog by the roadside, propped up on the ambulance gurney. The policeman instructed her to blow into the Breathalyzer. Numbly, she’d complied, all the while staring with displaced horror at the remains of what used to be her car.
The rear had completely disappeared, the front seats held together by a precarious tangle of metal. She’d watched a tow truck lift the twisted heap onto its platform with a detached sense of shock.
But as it’d driven past her, and she’d spied Fiona’s diamante-studded right shoe dangling from the mangled pile, she’d lost it, her hysterical screams ripping through the converged crowd. She’d felt a pinprick in her arm, before everything had once again gone mercifully blank.
She’d woken up in the hospital, her right arm in a tight bandage, and her left wrist handcuffed to the bed, while a policeman stood guard at the foot of her bed.
He’d instructed her to blow into a similar gadget as the Breathalyzer and calmly informed her that Sally was dead.
She’d died instantly, having taken the major brunt of the collision to the rear left hand side of the car. Fiona, who’d been beside Sally, was in surgery fighting for her life. Cara, although she’d suffered head injuries, was out of immediate danger, but in intensive care.
As for her, by some freak of nature, she’d escaped with nothing more than minor injuries to the right arm she’d thrown up to cover her face as the windshield glass shattered. The drunk driver of the truck had also escaped injury.
She’d been released three hours later after a severe grilling from the policeman who’d taken her statement and ordered her to report to the station the next day. Her request to see her friends had been denied, what with Fiona still in surgery and Cara allowed only one visitor, her brother, for the moment.
