Dirty Deal (A Perfectly Matched Novel) (Entangled Brazen)

by Christine Bell

  He turned his car around but didn’t go back to the wedding. Their split might have been for the best, but he didn’t have the heart or the stomach to endure a party or his sister’s wrath right now. Instead, he headed for the beach where he and Serena had been together that first night.

  Once he was along the shore, he sank back and stared up at the starry night, repeating to himself over and over that he had done the right thing.

  Because if he said it enough, maybe he would start to believe it.

  …

  Mondays should never be this bright.

  As if starting the week weren’t bad enough, the sunshine brought insult to injury, and as Bryan muscled out of his truck, he shielded himself from the sun’s menacing glare. It wasn’t as though having a hangover on a Monday was against the law, so why did Mother Nature have to punish him for it?

  Once again he found himself at the old warehouse-turned-photography-studio, but this time when he stepped though the wide metal doors, only Grace was waiting for him. A blank white canvas was set up as it had been before, but there were no buckets of props, no tables of snacks. No snooty photographer.

  And no Serena.

  “You look cheery today,” Grace called, and the echo around the open space throbbed in time with his headache.

  “I’m peachy.” They were the first words he’d said since waking up this morning, and it showed. Grace’s mouth quirked to the side as she surveyed him from top to bottom.

  “Maybe I should have been more specific about how I wanted you to show up for this commercial,” she said.

  Her tone was clipped, but she dropped her gaze and began rummaging in her enormous purse.

  “What do you mean? I’ve got the army gear on.” He gestured to his T-shirt, and Grace sighed, finally coming up with a makeup bag so big it must have been an industrial model.

  “I mean you’re going to be in front of the camera. Do you think I want some bedraggled-looking scrub telling the world how happy and in love he is? I may as well give you a forty-ouncer and tell you to shoot the Saint Patrick’s Day special ad.” She dumped the contents of her pouch onto a nearby table, and items of every shape, size, and color spilled out. She eyed his face and shook her head mournfully. “I have no idea what’s going to fix this.”

  He could have argued with her, normally would have, but it wasn’t worth the energy. Instead, he sank onto a metal folding chair by her table of makeup and watched as she examined her wares.

  “So, did you throw a kegger or something?” she asked, finally coming at him with a sponge and some goopy-looking liquid.

  “No.”

  “What’s with the hangover?” she asked.

  Couldn’t she guess? Serena must have told her by now.

  Unless it didn’t really mean that much to her. Maybe she was skipping around the office all day long. That would be a good thing, right? That was what he wanted. Serena to be happy.

  But he knew better. She was probably almost as miserable as he was. In any case, Grace must have found out what had happened. She just wanted to make him say it. As if she weren’t already responsible for enough misery in his life.

  Well, that was fine, but he wouldn’t be giving her the satisfaction. “You know why,” he said.

  “’Fraid not,” she shot back and dabbed his forehead the slightest bit too hard. The stuff was cold, but less slimy than it had looked. God only knew what an angry woman with a makeup brush could accomplish, though.

  “Serena and I are done,” he admitted, caving. He needed to talk to someone and Q was giving him the old freeze-out.

  “Ah, that. Well.” She swabbed underneath his eyes until they watered.

  Some time passed in silence while she continued to work on him, primping and prodding until he felt like he was halfway ready to compete for Miss America.

  He wanted to ask. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since the night it happened. Every single moment he spent alone, he turned it over in his head. And now Grace was here. Grace who would definitely know the answer.

  He couldn’t pass up the chance, even if the answer would feel worse than the hell he was living with now.

  “How is Serena handling it?” he said.

  Grace stopped sifting through the mountain of makeup just long enough to examine him over her shoulder. “Why?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  Because he felt the pang of missing her with every breath? Because every time he tried to close his eyes and sleep on the rollaway cot in his sister’s house he imagined he was still lying next to Serena? Because he still had the business card she’d given him tucked into his wallet like a medal of honor?

  “I just…do,” he said.

  “Well if that’s the reason, you should ask her yourself.” And like that, Grace was back on her mission.

  “It’s not that easy,” he said.

  “I can imagine.” Grace approached him with a new powdery substance in hand, but he held up a palm to stop her.

  “You can’t. I have obligations. And, yeah, the little karaoke stunt freaked me out some, but it’s more than that. I’m not going to be here. I can’t offer her anything…I can’t be good for someone else if I’m never around. Don’t you want better for your friend?”

  Grace’s black ringlets bounced as she stepped back. The hard edges around her mouth softened, and this time when she studied him it was with pity.

  “I’m sorry, Bryan. I’m being hard on you.” She blinked once, her jaw working as if she was unsure how much to say. Finally, she added, “Serena’s…not doing great.”

  He thought it would hurt to hear that she was well. That she strolled into work belting out show tunes every morning.

  But knowing she was as miserable he was? It only made things immeasurably worse.

  “I’ve heard Alanis Morissette so many times that I’m now against the very idea of irony. Though I guess this whole thing is sort of ironic,” Grace said.

  “What do you mean ironic?” He put down his hand and let her continue patting his cheeks.

  “Well, Serena losing someone because she was too gushy? It’s a little…odd. Normally she hates that stuff. She actually booed and hissed at the end of Dirty Dancing…” Grace shook her head and went on, “I couldn’t believe it when she told me her plan. But, you know, love does strange things to people.” She shrugged and then patted Bryan on the shoulder.

  “You think she actually loves me?” That couldn’t be true. Maybe infatuated, but love? After such a short period of time?

  “Absolutely.” Grace nodded. “But if you tell her I said so, I will deny it. Indefatigably.”

  “I’m not so sure,” he hedged.

  “Well, take it from an expert.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork, then stared deep into his eyes before she continued. “I know love when I see it. I saw that starry-eyed expression when she talked about you. I saw every symptom. Just like I saw them in you.”

  His heart squeezed at the words, and even though he wanted to argue, he couldn’t find it in him to follow through.

  Because maybe that’s what this was. The strange gnawing on his insides until all of his organs felt like they were collapsing at once.

  That might be one explanation. But he wasn’t willing to go down so easily with that ship.

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” he said.

  “I don’t want you to say anything.” Grace tossed her beauty equipment into her bag. “I want you to listen. Then maybe things will start to clear up. You know, obsession is a different thing than love.”

  “I didn’t—” The sinking in his stomach extended that much farther. If he fell any lower, he’d be lounging in the pit of hell itself.

  “I know. I’m an expert at this stuff.” She winked and zipped her purse closed. “And from this point forward it is none of my business. But believe me when I tell you, there is no one out there more perfect for you than Serena.”


  It was the way she said it. With a surety that shook him to his bones. Serena was right. Grace was magic and damn it, she knew something. Maybe she’d known something all along, which was why she’d manufactured this whole thing from the start. The auction, pretending to need him for her commercials. It was all to get him and Serena together. He had no proof of any of it, but he knew it just the same.

  But he still he had one more question on his mind, and before he shot this commercial and finished his time with Grace Love forever, he was going to get it answered.

  “Why me?” He started toward the set.

  To her credit, she didn’t bother playing dumb. Instead, she smiled brightly. “Call it intuition.”

  And no matter how else he tried for the rest of the shoot, all he could think about was Serena.

  In the span of an hour, he was back in his car again, alone and replaying everything Grace had said. Maybe she was right. Maybe it didn’t have to be that way. The more he turned the thoughts over in his head, the more aware he became of the truth.

  He was in love with Serena Elliott. Undeniably. Inexplicably. Absolutely.

  And he had fucked it up royally.

  Now he had to figure out how to fix it.

  …

  It felt like he was taunting her.

  Wasn’t it enough that she’d come home one day to find all his stuff gone? His toothbrush and the underwear he’d kept in her top drawer. Wasn’t it enough that she still had to work with his sister and pretend like nothing had happened? Wasn’t it enough that he’d raked her heart over the steaming coals of Mount Vesuvius?

  No, it wasn’t. Because apparently all that torture also coincided with seeing his face every time she turned on the TV and hearing him talk about letting love into his life.

  Like some kind of bizarro Twilight Zone episode, the thing popped up every three seconds. After a week, she was wondering if she might have died and this was her hell. To sit here and watch him smile. To listen to him.

  And to have her heart break all over again.

  Even though she knew it had been part of the deal, and that Grace had set up the TV spots, it didn’t make a difference. Over the course of the last month, the hurt was more of a constant ache than anything else. Like breathing or Keeping Up With the Kardashians. It was just an eternal part of life.

  She’d think that she was finally starting to forget the sound of his voice or how his jaw tensed when he looked at her, then the commercial would play over again in the stillness of her bedroom, and she found herself staring at the empty space where he used to lie. And sometimes, after hours of restlessness, her phone would buzz and she would take in the bright light illuminating the room for a moment. Then it would slowly fade out and leave her in the dark again.

  She knew who the texts were from. Had known from the very first night. At first, they’d been apologies. Explanations of his actions. Now the messages were simpler. He never mentioned the past. More often than not, they were statements.

  You probably look beautiful right now.

  Thinking of you.

  I miss you.

  She hated herself for checking them. Hated herself for wanting to see one more short message, the only three words that mattered. A small consolation for the monotonous torment her life had become.

  Picking up her phone, she scrolled through the messages, reading each slowly. It was a sort of ritual she’d developed whenever a new one popped up. The total count was fifteen, not counting the few times his sister had mustered enough courage to brave an attempt at conversation on his behalf, but there was no going back. Once burned, twice as pissed.

  She’d never responded, not to a single word, but they kept coming.

  And one day they’ll stop and I’ll still be here staring at the messages.

  Her thumb hovered over the phone, but her body knew this dance too well to miss a step. With a flick of the wrist, the thing sailed to the opposite side of the couch and she was reaching for the remote, desperate to drown out the dark, sensual voice with something else. Anything else.

  As if to further her life’s dark irony, the phone buzzed by her feet.

  “Is there no room for catharsis in this world?” She muttered to herself and instead of answering the thing she kicked it farther away.

  “Take that,” she said. For the thousandth time, she shut off the TV, cutting off Bryan’s voice in the middle of his speech about how wonderful love was. Right.

  The phone buzzed across the cushion again until it finally clattered to the floor and flopped around like a half-dead fish. The temptation to kick it again swept through her, but when Serena approached, she noticed that the messages were from Q.

  Apparently, she’d been trying to reach her all day. Two texts in the morning, a call in the afternoon, two more texts and…

  Oh God.

  The doorbell clanged through the hall and Serena grabbed for her hair and tossed it into a messy topknot.

  The meeting.

  In her busy schedule of boundless pity-partying, she’d let business slip her mind. Weeks ago, right after the auction, she and Q had scheduled a preliminary consultation to set up a blueprint for the upcoming charity event. Yet more salt in the wound.

  Q must have been checking in to make sure their plans were still a go. So now she was standing at the door ringing the bell, waiting for Serena. Who was wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt. One more mark against her on the Metcalf scoreboard.

  There was no time to fix the situation, so with one quick breath, Serena straightened and made for the door.

  When she opened it, Q seemed distracted. Like she hadn’t expected to have company when she, herself, was the company.

  “Hey.”

  The awkwardness was tangible, though Serena wasn’t sure what else she might have expected. They’d exchanged emails, but this was the first time she’d physically seen Q since the split with Bryan. It was one thing to dodge the questions online, another to do it in person.

  For a long moment, they were silent as Q surveyed the room, though Serena got the distinct impression she wasn’t really taking in what she was seeing. Bryan hung in the air between them like a palpable entity, and it was all she could do not to ask how he was.

  Today, they were focusing on business. Life had to get back to normal. The sooner the better.

  “It’s a pretty nice space, right? For a party, I mean.” Serena guided her into the east wing where her parents used to host galas. The place was hardly ever used, but it still looked pristine. All the fine touches her mother had demanded when she lived there, and all the gaudy gold fixtures her grandmother had despised. The Elliotts in a nutshell.

  “It’s breathtaking.” Q’s breath sounded pretty taken and Serena turned to smile at the other woman.

  “So, let’s talk details,” Serena pressed. The sooner she got Q out of here, the sooner she could focus on the important things. Like wallowing some more.

  Q nodded and moved to the center of the room before plopping down on the floor, legs crossed. “Let me visualize for a minute.” She closed her eyes and hummed, like she was trying to channel HGTV from beyond the grave.

  After a moment, Q’s eyes snapped open again and she shook her head. “I’ve got nothing.”

  “Well, normally we can set up a stage on the far end of the hall and—”

  “Not that,” Q said. “We’ll figure something out. I guess I’m just a little out of sorts, that’s all.” She rubbed a hand over her biceps, then spun on her heel and began to pace. “The hospital is expecting so much. The last auction went so well.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” Serena said the words calmly, the same way Grace always did, but something seemed…off. Fishy. Still, she gave Q the benefit of the doubt and tried again. “You got a really great turnout. The tickets are already sold out for next week.”

  Q nodded, but didn’t look up from her pacing. “That’s true. I just need to make sure this lives up to your company standards, too. You�
��ve done so much for us and you’ve already been through a lot.”

  Serena tried to hide the wince, but Q had apparently spotted it anyway. She paused mid-pace, her round eyes wider than ever. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. What I meant was… Well, I sort of. Kind of. Maybe need a favor. Sort of.”

  “What do you mean?” Ah, yes, that’s where the smell of fish had been coming from.

  “The last company, for the auction, you know? Well, they backed out. I guess they were some sort of traveling circus and their tires blew out so they’re now more of a stationary circus. The bearded lady has a skin condition. It was a whole thing on the phone and—”

  Serena sighed. “Honey, I’m going to need you to cut to the chase.”

  “Well, this is a local business auction. For goods. And services. So. You’re the only business that isn’t signed up… And I have a slot open.” Q turned on a thousand-watt smile. “It would be great exposure for you and Grace. So I was hoping you could step in.”

  Her stomach was already sinking at the prospect of getting roped into one of these things again. As if the first one hadn’t turned out swimmingly enough, now she was going to sign up for additional floggings? Still, there was something about Q that couldn’t be turned down, so Serena said, “I’ll ask Grace.”

  “I called her earlier today. She said she’s fine with offering a complimentary setup, but that she’s busy the night of the auction, so…” It didn’t seem possible, but Q dialed up the wattage on her smile, and Serena resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  She wanted to help the charity. And God only knew that she’d done worse things than stand on a stage and peddle her skills for a good cause. Maybe the fishiness was just her being overly skeptical. One night wouldn’t kill her.

  And it wasn’t like she could get her heart stomped on again.

  “Fine, then. Sounds good.” She nodded and Q jumped up and down. Just like that, the faraway look was gone, and she was all energy and light again.

  Wrapping Serena in an embrace, she squealed, “You will not regret it! I’ll even take care of the rest of the planning. You can just sit back and enjoy yourself. Leave everything else to me.” Q grinned.