“How did it happen?” I say.
Jax turns his face to me. It takes him several seconds to answer. “Motorcycle accident,” he says in the end. “Almost lost a kidney.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay, but…”
“But what?”
“How come it’s not visible on any of your photos?”
He shrugs. “Photoshop. Makeup doesn’t work.”
“Is it you that wants it removed from the photos or your employers?”
Jax locks his eyes on mine. “Madison talked about you quite a bit. She even showed me a picture of the two of you together when you were like thirteen or fourteen. She thought you were the beautiful one. I agreed.”
“What?” I say, finding it hard to believe what I’m hearing. “No one was ever prettier than Madison.”
“It’s true,” he says. “On some level, Madison admired you and might even be a little jealous of you. She said you always knew that you wanted to be a writer. She said you were solid in your principles and you’d never hesitate to help someone in need.”
I nod as a lump the size of a golf ball threatens to choke me. Madison was a lost soul, it’s clear to me now. She wanted so hard to have a life of meaning but failed to find a purpose. And I failed her. I failed to hear her cries for help and I went on my merry way. I pretended to be the forgotten one, but I forgot her. I let her go, thinking it was what she wanted.
“Hey, El,” Jax says, catching my tear on the tip of his finger. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He wraps his arms around me.
“Why did you act like you knew me when we met?” I say, wiping my face with the back of my hand.
“You were the other part of Madison. The one she could never find within herself.” He pauses for a few seconds before he continues. “But also because your face captivated me. You have no idea how subtly beautiful and splendid your face is. How much truth I can read on it.”
“And you are subtly blind, I’m thinking,” I tease.
“Don’t hide behind humor,” he says.
I’m not going to argue with him, not right now. So I give him a smile and start pampering his glorious chest muscles, teasing his little man nipples. I am quite sure I am getting as much pleasure out of the pampering as him.
He closes his eyes and exhales. “Ella, listen to me,” he says, taking my hands away from his chest. “Whoever killed Madison won’t stop there. You have to promise me you’ll be discreet in your investigation and you’ll come to me the moment you sense something’s off.”
I raise my eyes to look at him. “Do you think I’m in danger?”
He doesn’t respond which is as good as a confirmation.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I go on, fearing the worst.
This time he smiles shyly. “No,” he says. “I just want to make sure nothing ever happens to you. I need you, Ella Wade.”
—twelve—
June 28
In the morning, I have a hard time getting out of bed. As soon as I open my eyes, I still feel disoriented and intoxicated by the wild intimacy of being with Jaxson yesterday. I wish I could have spent the night with him but he had to work.
As the memories return to me, I find myself floating above the world of mortals to a place where all I am is his sweet girl. Nobody came within a million miles of fucking me the way Jaxson Cole did, so utterly tenacious and satisfying.
It’s still very hard to believe that Jax fell in love with me so fast and so hard but I think even if yesterday was nothing more than a perfect one-night stand, I’d be okay with that because he opened my eyes to a new kind of sensuality, a new kind of life hunger. But then my phone rings and it’s him, and I am so completely relieved our story is not yet over.
“Are your nipples still sticky with my cum?” he says, sounding totally serious.
“Ah, Uncle Bob? Is that you?”
He laughs and I can hear sleep in his dry throat. “You’re mental.”
“Did you expect a serious answer?”
“Yes,” he insists.
“Fine,” I say. “Yes, Jax. Your cum is all over me and I have little crusty deposits around my nipples. And I kind of love it, because I feel like you are still close to me. Is that better?”
“I love it,” he says. “I can’t stand being away from you either.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, peeking under my tank top. “Your territory is still marked.”
“Good,” he says. “How soon can you get here?”
“I guess I can meet you right now. Where are you?” It’s official, I don’t care if I get fired or if I lose my dubious position as Detective Esposito’s exclusive double duty reporter/partner.
“My place,” Jax says.
“Sounds good, but where is that?”
He gives me an address in the Pacific Palisades. I quickly jot it down on a notebook, tearing the page out right away and sticking it in my purse.
“I’ll be there in forty minutes unless the traffic is out of hand,” I tell him. “I’ll have to leave in the afternoon. I’m meeting Maddy’s father for a short interview.”
“That’s fine, I have an audition around then.”
“What kind of audition?”
“For a part in an action movie. I’ll be the sexy, bad guy.”
“You’ll set a lot of panties on fire,” I tease him.
“Just get your butt over here,” he says. “I miss you.”
When I arrive at his luxurious condominium, my head is bursting with ridiculous notions of how it would feel like to be a sexy movie star’s girlfriend. I find him in his swimming trunks, ocean salt on his skin and hair.
I walk into his condo and see the expanse of the distant Pacific through his huge bay windows. We are on a steep hillside high above the ocean about a half mile or so away from the water.
“I called you from the beach. I did some surfing while I waited,” he says, taking me in his arms.
We kiss passionately and my tongue devours the mix of saltiness and mint in his mouth eagerly. His tongue trails off down the V of my t-shirt, wetting my skin. “You showered,” he says, disappointed expression full-on.
“I had to, you dork,” I say. “I have to go straight to meet Maddy’s father at 1:00 pm.”
“You could have showered here,” he says, “after I make you come again.”
“You assume a lot,” I say, even though we both know I’ll probably be screaming for him within minutes.
“Take your clothes off,” he says, “and then bend over the dining table.”
I look at him questioningly, uncertain if he’s serious or not.
“What are you waiting for?” he says with sparkling, yet cruel eyes.
“You’re not nice,” I say.
“Are you here for nice?”
He has a point. I walk to the dining table, looking at him defiantly. My fingers undo the button on my jeans, pulling the zipper down. I take my t-shirt off and then my hands go for the clasp on my bra.
Two long strides and he wraps his arms around me from behind.
“Listen to me,” he whispers in my ear. “When I fucked you with my fingers at the park, I controlled myself. I made sure I gave you pleasure without fear. Yesterday, when I fucked you from behind, I held back again. I didn’t spank you, I didn’t shove my whole length up into you while tugging at your hair. Today I’ll take you like I want, do you understand?”
I get a bit lightheaded as his words arouse me and irritate me at the same time. I linger between two conflicting desires: slap him hard or beg him to take me like he wants. Jaxson Cole has awakened the primitive in me and I’m not sure I can ever lock it away again.
“Are you going to fuck me or talk all day?” I say with a slap of his groin area. Two can play at this game.
“Spread,” he says in a low commanding voice.
I do as he says, spreading my legs apart, waiting for his hand to dive inside my jeans. Instead, he turns me around to face him, resting his forehead agai
nst mine. “Don’t let me play games with you,” he says. “Not unless you’re really in the mood for one. I’m spoiled this way but you can always tell me no.”
This man confuses me so much sometimes, I really want to smack him across the face. “Once you figure out what you want, Jax, just take it.”
“I want to break you down bit by bit until all you can think about is my cock deep inside of you.”
I want to tell him it’s not going to happen even though it already has.
“You don’t know what I am but you will,” he says.
“Oh, I know what you are, Jaxson Cole. You’re the candy that every girl wants, the kind with too much sugar that’s bad for the heart.”
“Your words won’t save you,” he says, leaning in for a kiss.
A loud banging on the door interrupts our embrace. “What the fuck?” Jaxson says as there’s immediately a second banging, louder and more persistent than the first.
“Police, open the door.” The unmistakable timbre of Rick Esposito’s slightly nasal voice throws me into a new state of confusion. Is he here for me? Does he know I lied to him? Did he have me followed? But why would he do that? No, it doesn’t make sense.
I look up at Jaxson’s pale face, his features hardened and stiff like he has just seen a ghost.
“Get out the back door,” he says. “Through the kitchen.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jaxson pats down his hair as I quickly put my shirt back on. By the time he opens the door, he has regained his usual composure. It’s almost as if he put on a mask.
“How can I help you?” he says.
I barely have a moment to catch a glimpse of Rick Esposito and two more police officers when Rick produces a pair of handcuffs.
“Jaxson Cole you’re under…”
He stops when his eyes fall on me as I stand quietly in the back of the room. For a moment, he remains silent, a shocked expression on his face. I walk to the door and Esposito’s eyes follow my every move.
“What’s going on?” I say.
Rick seems to be at a loss for words, searching within his head for a way to recover his ability to speak.
He does eventually and redirects his attention at Jax. “Jaxson Cole, you are under arrest for the murder of Madison Starr.” He grabs Jax, turning him around to get his hands handcuffed behind his back. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”
“What the hell?” I yell, feeling the fury growing in my chest. Is Esposito fucking joking?
“Please, stay out of the way, Miss Wade,” Esposito says coldly.
“The hell I am.” I take two steps, standing so close to him that I literally get in his face, forcing him to hear what I have to say. “Are you out of your mind? Jaxson has an alibi and you know it. He’s totally innocent. Why are you doing this?”
“Ella, stop,” Jaxson says. “It will all be cleared up soon enough.”
Jaxson is trying to calm me but all I can hear is the sound of the furious blood in my ears. I shove Esposito’s shoulders. Not once, twice. He barely feels it. He remains immobile and distant. “Is it because I turned you down?” The words come out of my mouth without my intending them.
Esposito’s eyes flash pure venom at me. “You are delusional on top of stupid,” he says, finally losing his cool demeanor.
My cheeks flush red as one of the police officers takes hold of my arm, forcing me to take a few steps backward and away from Esposito and Jax.
Rick resumes reading Jaxson his Miranda rights and I just stand there, helpless and confused, counting my options in my head.
“Is there anyone you want me to call?” I ask Jax as soon as Rick is done.
Jaxson shakes his head. “It will all be fine,” he says.
The second police officer takes Jaxson out the door. The one who holds me finally releases me.
“We have a warrant to search the premises,” Esposito says without looking at me. “Please, leave.”
I nod, feeling wiped out and without any fight left in me. I refuse to believe Jax had anything to do with Madison’s murder. That would be so fucked up on so many levels, I’d rather die than consider it.
I walk to the couch to get my bag when I notice that it’s sitting on Jax’s iPad. I don’t know what possesses me but I go for it. I swiftly slide the iPad in my tote bag, rushing to the door before Esposito wises up and asks to check the contents of the bag.
It’s a wonder to me why I’ve just decided to break the law so blatantly right under the police’s nose but it feels like it’s the right thing to do. There could be things about the private club in there, things that could put Jaxson’s life in danger or falsely incriminate him.
I’m out the door when Esposito’s hand lands on my left shoulder. My heart pounds frantically in my chest as my little impulsive misconduct starts crumbling down.
Esposito stands in front of me, doing his best not to look me in the eye. “Stay away from this mess,” he says. “I will do my best to leave your name out of what happened today. You don’t want to be a suspect as an accessory to murder, do you?”
His words sound a little bit too much like a threat.
“Listen,” he says, finally lowering his eyes to my face. “I know you’re a good kid. I don’t want you to get in any trouble, but you have to start assuming some responsibility.”
His words send me floating out the door in a vacuum where fear mixes with regret and a crippling confusion as what to do next.
—thirteen—
You Have The Answers
Playing with fire has never been a strength of mine. Sitting on my loveseat, I’m trying to decide whether tampering with police evidence will turn out to be the most horrific idea I ever had or only a mildly moronic one. In short, I’m wondering if I will get away with it.
My moral compass is way off. I can see that clearly now. One thing’s for sure, if I find the slightest shred of evidence against Jax in here, I’ll hand the tablet to Esposito and let him decide my fate.
It kills me that I had to cancel my meeting with Jim but what choice did I have? I couldn’t exactly go to him with a wide grin on my face and say, Guess what? The police think they got the bastard who killed your daughter who happens to be her so-called boyfriend – not to mention that I screwed him a couple of times. No, all I can do is follow Esposito’s advice and lay low until the dust settles down a bit.
I scan the iPad’s contents lazily, going through the apps that Jax has downloaded, mostly games and magazine subscriptions. What I’m doing is all kinds of wrong, first stealing evidence, then going through someone’s private tablet. I wish none of that had happened, but since that’s just wishful thinking, I might as well go ahead and see if there’s anything of importance here.
After I’m done browsing though the apps, I move to the photos folder. There are plenty of photos of Jax from photo shoots and fashion shows but no private photos. Nothing of him acting like a real person in real life. No pictures of his family—assuming he has one—or his friends. No pictures of nature or memes or pets.
I scroll down the endless list of folders of professional photos to the very bottom where I find a folder named ELLA.
My heart stops. Is this really a folder with pictures of me? When would he have the time to create one? We only met five days ago.
My finger lingers over the icon for quite some time before I touch it, opening up an endless stream of photos of me. Pictures from college, from high school and elementary school, pictures from vacations, pictures with my parents, even a few pictures of me with boys I dated for a short while.
What the fuck is this? I instinctively put my hand over my mouth as my entire life unfolds in front of my eyes. Is Jaxson Cole a stalker? Did he hack into my computer or, worse, my apartment?
Where the fuck did he find all those old photos of me? Hell, some of them I don’t even have myself. They must be at my mother’s house wh
ich means, what? Did he break into my mom’s place, too?
A feeling of nausea overwhelms me and I bring a glass of water to my lips. I close my eyes for a second, laying my head against the back of the couch.
When my eyes open, I’m determined to tear his tablet to pieces until I know every little thing that he keeps in there. There’s so much sadness and despair in me right now and I need to turn them into something different, something angry and creative.
My fingers keep clicking on files, folders and icons, searching for clues about the real Jaxson Cole. Didn’t he tell me I’d soon find out? I bet that’s not what he had in mind.
Under the documents section I come upon a bunch of files titled in a numeric fashion, although in no particular order. From file 1 you get to file 12 and then to file 37. I click on one after the other and most of them turn out to be filled with nonsensical strings of letters and symbols except for the occasional file that has real words that mean nothing to me.
Things like: Don’t forget to use the actual verbiage when you contact home, or, Always let them know your true intentions while hiding your true corresponding feelings.
In a flash of inspiration, I do a search for my name. One file comes up, titled 2385. I get an urge to get off the couch and start running and never stop until I’m out of town, or maybe the state.
The first thing I read in the file reads something like this:
Ella Wade.
Height – 5’ 4’’
Weight – 115 (approx.)
Hair – Brown
Eyes – Brown
There are no words to describe what I’m feeling right now. Maybe I’m in a state of shock or maybe I just want to cry. I bite my lip and keep reading all the things that Jaxson Cole would have never wanted me to read.
Everything about me has been logged into this document. My hobbies, my school and writing awards, my travels, my studies, even my favorite color and dessert. But why? What makes me that important that someone would go into the trouble of collecting all this information? Especially since the document is dated months before Jaxson and I actually met.
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