“First, you called me by my name and Brad, too. And, second, what side is that exactly?”
“It’s all right. Brad knows who you are.”
Brad corroborates by clinking his beer bottle against my water glass, stupid grin breaking out on his face.
“You told him?” I ask Jaxson, quite irritated. “When?”
“Brad and I go a long way back. I needed an ally in there. He created that little scene with you so you wouldn’t have to be targeted for real. He kept an eye on you and would have interfered if things got out of hand. He will help us get to the bottom of this.”
The more he talks, the more pissed I get. What now? Do I owe Brad an apology? Gratitude maybe? “So you left me in the dark about the whole private room thing while Brad knew everything the whole time?”
“Honestly, Ella, I thought the less you knew, the easier it would be for you. I didn’t know how well you could act if you knew beforehand it was all staged. I still don’t know. Taking you by surprise ensured you’d have a hypnotized look on your face.”
“You looked drugged,” Brad says with a wink.
Maybe in his world that’s a compliment, but in my world, it does nothing for my confidence. Whatever. There is one very important question I need to ask. “So, in your opinion, and I’m asking both of you, Madison’s murder is related to something or someone at Peach Corner?”
“Here’s the thing,” Jaxson says. “Madison was getting really close to someone who joined one of the bigger groups recently. A fucking dangerous thug with a horrible reputation. She invited him to her place more than once. He’s been known to rough women up and worse.”
“Some bitches love that shit,” Brad says, creepily indifferent.
“Yeah,” I say. “That ranks right behind being called a bitch.”
Brad raises both hands in surrender.
“The point is,” Jaxson says, “there’s a code of silence in the club. They don’t share information with outsiders. Even if they know something, they’d never tell the police. I wanted you to see what I’m talking about, so you don’t think I’m making it up.”
“You don’t really expect me to join the club, do you?”
Jaxson shakes his head. “You’d never make it past stage one and I’m only an honorary member. Brad here’s the real deal though. A full member who could milk some information out of those tied lips if we play our cards right. Then you could take that information to the police and a formal investigation could begin as long as you don’t involve Brad or me.”
As preposterous as it all sounds, I don’t want to disappoint Jaxson. I don’t want to tell him I’m no detective and I already got cold feet before I even knew about all this dangerous shit. “Why are you helping me?” is all I say.
“Because I want to know what happened to Madison.”
“I do too, but I think we should bring Detective Esposito in now.”
“Absolutely not,” Brad says. “If you do, I’m out. I won’t back up anything that was just said.”
“Calm down,” Jaxson says. “Ella wouldn’t do that.” He turns to me with a pleading look on his face. “More people could die, Ella. These are dangerous dudes. Can you trust me on that?”
“I honestly don’t know what to tell you.”
“When you have proof that doesn’t implicate us, you can do whatever you want with it. I believe in you, Ella.”
His eyes are gorgeous when he’s being sincere. I want to kiss him again, have his hands all over my skin.
“Don’t trust him,” Brad says, shoving my shoulder with his second beer bottle. “I can see it in his eyes, he wants to fuck you.”
I study Jaxson’s reaction to those words. He never blinks.
Brad’s words make my blood boil all over. “Are you always this charming?” I ask Brad, rolling my eyes, trying to hide how I’d love for what he said to be true.
“Don’t worry about Brad,” Jaxson says. “He’s all bark and no bite. I’ll straighten his ass out soon.”
*
Jaxson walks me to the parking lot with his hands in his pockets. He’s already apologized three times but he gives it one more try as I unlock the car.
“I’m sorry I brought all this on you like a ton of bricks. I figured there was no time for explanations once Brad agreed it would be okay to bring you in, but I see now I should have given you some warning.”
“No worries, I’m a big girl,” I say, opening the door. “I’ll think about what you said, sleep on it.”
I’m amazed my tongue didn’t slip and said I’d like to sleep on him. Or under him. Any fucking way, really. He wasn’t Madison’s man. The two were never a couple. At this point, the faster I get in the car and drive off, the better.
He stops me, arm blocking the door as I try to shut it. His eyes are oozing sexiness into mine.
“What is it?” I say, short of breath.
“When you asked why I’m helping you, I wasn’t completely honest.”
“Please, no more bad news,” I say, but he puts his index finger on my lips.
“I’m helping you for Madison, but also because being with you has been making me feel better.”
This is the kind of shit I don’t know how to process in any reasonable time frame. His finger on my mouth reminds me of his hot, rough kisses. I’d like to suck on it or anything else he throws in my face as long as it gets me invited to his private party.
“That’s not such a bad secret,” I say, removing his finger with mine. “You are not without your charms as well, but this is about Madison.”
“I like you,” he says, shyly gazing at the ground.
I can’t believe this small confession makes him bashful. He’s like a different person.
“You barely know me.”
He shrugs, eyes set on mine like vises. “Yet, I do.”
I turn the key to start the engine, unable to speak. “No, you don’t,” I say, looking away. “I barely know myself.”
He lifts his eyes to linger in mine. “I know you, Ella Wade. From that very first moment at the agency.”
Here we go, at least now we’re back on familiar ground. I manage to compose myself and look him in the eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what you really want?”
“That would be too much too soon.”
“Stop with this bashful routine. It doesn’t suit you. What is it that you want, Jaxson Cole? What game are you playing?”
“It’s not a game,” he says defensively. “I just wanted a date. Forget it.”
Suddenly, I want him to say my name again, the whole fucking thing. I want to hear him say things like, I want to date you, Ella Wade; I want to hold your hand, Ella Wade; I want to kiss you until you can’t breathe, Ella Wade; I want to fuck you until you forget your name, Ella Wade.
“At least I made you speechless,” he says.
“I don’t know what to say, Jaxson,” I say weakly. “This is going way too fast for my taste.” That’s not true. Not even a little.
“Call me Jax,” he says, pulling back, taking his hand off the door. “Oh, and by the way, you’re anything but ordinary, Ella Wade.”
He walks away. I cannot move. I’m smitten and disoriented as hell as I watch his lovely back and ass slowly exit my field of vision. I feel like I just got off a rollercoaster. Sparks fire in every part of my brain and body.
Maybe this will make my autobiography someday, the night a sex god took me to an orgy, devoured me with kisses, lifted my skirt and then later tried to convince me to do PI work and finally asked me out on a date.
No one would ever believe it was non-fiction.
—eight—
June 25
The phone rings the moment I step out of the shower. It must be a law of nature that important shit tends to happen when you’re in the shower or just stepping out of it. Every phone call could be crucial today so I rush on my wet feet down the hallway to the living room where I’ve left my phone.
I’m almost out of breath when Rick Espos
ito greets me coldly, making me feel guilty for not responding to his call last night. I didn’t ignore him on purpose. There were so many questions in my head after I came back home, I honestly forgot about giving Esposito a call.
It’s also true that I get a sharp pang of disappointment in my chest that the voice on the other end doesn’t belong to Jaxson. I already miss the gorgeous bastard which could be exactly what he was going for when he asked me out on a date.
“You were AWOL pretty much all day yesterday,” Esposito says as if he needs to inform me of my own whereabouts.
“Something came up,” I say. “Anything new?”
“Maybe. We’ll probably have the coroner’s report later today and a press release to go with it. I’ll get you copies of everything but I’d like to see you before that. I have a few questions you might be able to answer.”
“Sure,” I say, although the last thing I want is to meet with Rick Esposito. I don’t know how well I’ll be able to hide the fact that I’m withholding some very serious information from him.
“One hour, my office,” he says and hangs up before I can respond.
I hate the idea of being bossed around by Esposito or, worse, manipulated by Jaxson but in the end I have to do what is best for my job, and right now that means pursuing all possible new information.
I pat myself dry with the towel, pull on my skinny jeans and slide into a white t-shirt. Blow drying my hair takes a little longer than I want because I need a haircut (I don’t like it when my hair grows longer than a couple of inches below my shoulders) and then, right before walking out, I decide I need makeup.
I’m talking the whole nine yards here: mascara, rouge, powder, lipstick, eye shadow and even eyeliner which I usually avoid because it tends to irritate my eyes.
More bad decisions ensue when I decide to call my mother while driving. It’s not the first time and it probably won’t be the last. Ella Wade can be a really bad girl. Then again, it’s probably an unwritten rule that you call your parents from the car, which could also be called dead time, so you don’t have to invest any real time in the communication.
“I spoke to Jim,” my mother says, after the initial questions about my health, eating and sleep. “He flew in to LAX last night to take care of the formalities.”
My throat seizes up. Jim must have flown to Los Angeles for the funeral arrangements once the body is released from the coroner’s office. Poor man, what a terrible ordeal to go through.
My mother keeps talking like she always does when she’s in denial or feeling lost. “I told him about you helping in the investigation,” she goes on. “He liked that. It made him feel better that you’re involved. He said he’d like to see you. He got married again, you know. Last year.”
“That’s good, at least he won’t go through it alone,” I say.
“I know, Ella. It got me thinking. What would I do if anything happened to you? What will happen to you when I’m gone? I should have given you a sibling. It should have been my top priority.”
“Mom, stop it, all this is pointless. We’re fine, we have each other and we’re all we need.”
It takes her a moment to respond. “That deadbeat father of yours should be hanged by the neck. At least, Madison’s mother is dead. What’s your father’s excuse? He just walked out on us and never came back. Son of a bitch.”
“Mom, calm down, please. We’re better off without him. I don’t even remember what it was like to have him around.”
It’s true. My real father left us when I was eight and if it weren’t for the few photos my mother has kept, I might have a hard time remembering what he looked like or how his laughter sounded or what he smelled like when he kissed me goodnight. No matter how much it hurt at the time, I’ve moved on.
My mother sighs. “You’re right. What’s on your agenda today?”
As soon as I tell her I’m heading for the Beverly Hills Police Department, I turn onto Rexford Drive and have to hang up. I really hope my mother will get out of her funk fast. I might have to spend the weekend with her.
Detective Esposito actually looks pleased to see me. It could be my paranoia or my guilty conscience or both that led me to believe otherwise when he called.
Today he’s dressed casual with dark jeans and a black t-shirt that accentuates his virile shoulders and pecs. Rick Esposito is made of the same rugged toughness that makes for the best TV detectives. From Rick Castle to Jack Larsen to Seeley Booth.
My mom would get all gooey for a real man like him.
“Ella, please, take a seat,” he says. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
He quickly finishes reviewing a folder on his desk before he finally turns his attention to me. “I read the report you sent to the Daily Scandal this morning.”
“How?” I say but then shake my head. “Never mind, it’s obvious you’re working closely with Mark Devlin.”
“Working together might be a stretch,” Esposito says. “Aiding each other in the investigation would be more appropriate.”
“How is Mark pivotal to the investigation?”
It’s a fair question but Esposito decides not to answer it. Instead, he opens the folder in front of him and takes out a hand-written page. “These are the latest pieces of information we have. Why don’t you take a look while we’re waiting to hear from the medical examiner?”
Esposito’s handwriting is small and dense, as if he used the full force of his hand to write. On top of the list is Jim’s arrival to town. “Will you question Madison’s father?” I ask.
“I was thinking that maybe you’d like to talk to him, interview him is what you’d call it I guess, before my department calls him, to ease him into the investigation.”
I nod, almost grateful. “I would like that, yes. Thank you for thinking of it. It’d be best if he talked to someone he knows first.”
“That’s settled then,” he says with a benevolent grin. I can’t deny it, he’s starting to grow on me with his masculine self-assurance, his good taste in clothes and décor and even his improving manners. Not in a Jaxson Cole kind of panty-dropping way, but I’m definitely liking him better today.
Then my eyes fall on a different paragraph on the page and my body immediately stiffens up. Jaxson Cole’s name has once again found its way into Esposito’s notes.
“Detective Esposito,” I begin but he cuts me off.
“I thought we agreed we should be on a first-name basis. Please, call me Rick,” he says.
“Okay, Rick, what is this here about Jaxson Cole?”
Rick Esposito clears his throat. “There is evidence that Jaxson Cole and Madison had a fight when they last spoke at the agency. A loud fight. People heard Madison scream. Including her friend, Rita North.”
“Why does that matter? Jax did not kill her. He was with another woman that night. On a very public date. And he never dated Madison. It was all a show.”
He considers my words, his hazel eyes focusing on mine. “I did not see any of that in your report.”
I swallowed a bug. Shit. I suffer from foot-in-mouth disease. Big time.
“I assumed you knew and Jaxson Cole wasn’t in my report because I don’t see how he’s involved with the case,” I say, licking my lips.
Esposito does something I don’t like. He wraps his fingers around my arm, almost angrily. “When did you speak to him?”
“Yesterday,” I say, staring at his hand on my arm.
“Where?”
At this point, the less I say, the better. “That hurts.”
He lets go of my arm. “Why would you meet with him, Ella?”
“He’s a family friend,” I say. “This has been hard on all of us.”
“You have to be honest with me,” he says.
Now I’m getting a little pissed which makes me cheekier. “Since when is my daily life a part of this investigation?”
Looking at Esposito’s regretful face convinces me I deserve an Oscar. I just lied to the police and did it effective
ly. Sometimes I surprise myself.
“Mr. Cole is not a suspect,” he says. “Not yet anyway. He’s a person of interest. You’re right, you’re not obligated to report to me who you see. However, Ella, may I be blunt?”
I nod because I can’t exactly tell him no, can I? And even if I did, he’d still let me have it.
“Stay away from him. Something tells me he’s bad news. I’m usually right about these things. Better safe than sorry.”
“Seeing Mr. Cole again is not on my calendar,” I say, “so all this is needless.” Take that, Meryl Streep. There’s nothing going on between Jax and me unless you count playing a panty-drenching game of detective.
Esposito’s phone rings but when he picks it up, he tells the person on the other end to wait. He turns to me. “Good, I’m sorry if I overstepped. Hey, do you want to have dinner at Kelly’s tonight after all this madness quiets down?”
“Kelly’s?”
“It’s a fine French bistro.” As he says those last words, he steps out of the office, phone on ear, waving the folder he’s holding with his free hand at me to get me to sit down and wait for him.
I know that Kelly’s is a French Bistro. What I don’t know is if I’m hallucinating or did Rick Esposito just ask me out on a date?
It’s suddenly raining dangerous, hot men around here. I have an urgent need to share this with my best friend. Too bad she’s vacationing in Europe. The little bitch. Actually, she’s a doll and I miss her.
The truth is there have been no signs of life from Jax today after all his eagerness to take me out. Ugh. Men.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one to call first.
All things considered, there are two possibilities—either Jaxson really likes me (gobsmack!) for some strange, fucked-up reason (ordinary girl fetish) or he has a secret agenda. An online poll would quickly produce a resounding result of 98 percent in favor of the “secret agenda”.
I take a look at the time on my phone and make a clumsy calculation in my head. It must be somewhere between nine and eleven pm in Barcelona. Mia better be available for her tormented friend—unless of course she’s getting cozy and dirty with a sexy torero. In that case, she’s off the hook.
Scandal: The Complete Series Page 5
