P.I.T.A. (L.A. Liaisons Book 3)

by Brooke Blaine

  I didn’t do either of those things, though. Finally taking a deep breath, I straightened off the wall, and that was when I heard a familiar voice coming up behind me.

  “Hey, there you are,” Dawson said, and even in the dark of the hall, I could see him smiling, his brilliant white grin that won over girls, teachers, and parents alike.

  “Shh,” I replied. The last thing I needed was everyone to know that I was eavesdropping about their invasion of my privacy, and I glanced out to make sure no one had heard his approach. They hadn’t.

  “Let me get that,” Dawson said, quieter this time, as he lifted the bags from my shoulder. I wished I could say the weight I was feeling right then had been lifted as well. If anything, it just made me feel empty. Thank God Dawson hadn’t been in there to hear what they’d said. If he had, it would’ve been more than I could bear.

  A traitorous tear slid down my cheek, and I casually rubbed my face to brush it away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, and when I didn’t answer, he lifted my chin to look at him. That made it worse, because then the tears really began to flow. Not only did everyone in that room now know my secrets, but Dawson would know them too. What if he looked at me the way they would look at me now? What if he didn’t want to be friends anymore? I didn’t want to think about that, so I kept silent, shaking my head to say that no, nothing was wrong. Totally normal to be crying out of nowhere in the middle of a party.

  “Tell me what’s wrong right now. Are you hurt?”

  “No. It’s nothing,” I said, trying to convince myself more than him. “It’s nothing.”

  “I’ve never seen you cry, so it’s obviously not nothing.”

  Shrieks of laughter rang out, drawing Dawson’s attention toward the patio.

  “Wait, wait,” another girl said. “This one’s even better. ‘Dawson went to the movies with Carla tonight. I don’t know why he bothers with girls that aren’t good enough for him.’ What, like Paige is his type? Puh-leeze. Wait until Carla finds out what she wrote. Dawson’s only friends with her because he feels sorry her parents don’t pay her any attention. At least, that’s what I heard.”

  Tears streamed down my face, and Dawson didn’t have to ask me why this time. He let go of the bags, letting them crash to the ground, and then he was slamming the slider door all the way open. Conversation came to a halt as everyone stared up at him.

  “D, man, come listen to this—” one of the jock guys said, obviously slow on the uptake.

  Dawson ignored him, crossing the patio to grab my diary out of Holly Butler’s perfectly manicured hands.

  “Who took this?” he asked, holding the diary up.

  “Relax, it’s just a joke,” Holly said, flipping her glossy brown hair over one shoulder.

  “It’s not a joke. You don’t read someone’s private thoughts out loud to all of your friends.”

  “Maybe your little girlfriend shouldn’t leave her diary somewhere we’d find it. You should read what she says about you.”

  “I’m positive she didn’t leave it anywhere, unless you went trolling in her bedroom that’s off-limits,” Dawson replied, and it didn’t escape my notice that he let the girlfriend comment pass by without denial, as well as the mention of himself between the pages. I wiped away the last of my tears as a tiny flutter replaced the dread in my stomach.

  “What the hell makes you think it’s okay to do that to somebody, especially Paige?” he continued. “She’s done nothing but be nice to all of you, and all you guys have done is mooch off her food and laugh at her. This is how you say thank you? Really, guys?” Dawson let out a disgusted snort.

  Silence descended over the room, and a couple of the girls shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his glare. I stood where he’d left me, in complete stillness and utter shock that he was so upset on my behalf. I’d never seen him like this before; Dawson was a chill guy, the kind everyone was drawn to because he made you feel good. And he was good at everything, which should’ve been maddening, but just made you unable to take your eyes off him. I would’ve hated to be on the receiving end of the look he was giving everyone now, and by their expressions, they were baffled at what was coming at them.

  “Get out,” Dawson said, pointing toward the door. “And if I hear that one of you have breathed a word about what’s in that diary, I’ll make sure that you don’t walk for months. Goodbye, football team. Goodbye, cheerleading. Try me. I dare you.”

  No one breathed a word; they just looked at each other as if waiting for someone to take the lead on what they should do.

  Finally, one of the bigger guys, Chris, walked over to Dawson, and I held my breath. Dawson wasn’t a scrawny guy, but he wasn’t an athlete either, and I hoped my friend wouldn’t end up getting punched in the face for sticking up for me. There was no need to worry, though, because Chris was just passing by on his way out, and his hand landed briefly on Dawson’s shoulder. “Sorry, man—”

  “Don’t say sorry to me. Go tell Paige you’re sorry for being such assholes.”

  Chris gave a curt nod. “Right.”

  Nothing more was said as they all filed out after him, the entire group of twenty or so, and before it occurred to me to move and hide, they were walking past me, mumbling what sounded like apologies. I stood there, frozen in place, still holding one of the bags of chips in my arms as though it was a barrier between them and me.

  Wow. So that was what it was like to have power—true power. If anyone else in that group had stood up and done the same, it wouldn’t have had nearly the effect that Dawson’s tongue-lashing had. I felt such a strong surge of pride for Dawson to be able to stand up to those people and win.

  The sad thing was, that used to be me. I’d been such a loud, spunky kid, one who never took anybody’s crap and made friends anywhere I went. When had that changed? When I’d finally realized my parents didn’t give two shits about me? When puberty hit and my smooth, flawless complexion turned into a Clearasil “before” ad? The acne had cleared up now, thank God, but my self-esteem hadn’t seemed to recover. I didn’t like who I’d become, this person that hid in the shadows, but I didn’t much like anyone in that group either.

  “Paige…” Dawson slid the patio door shut and then came over to hand me the diary. I promptly dropped the chips and hugged the journal to my chest. “I’m so sorry. Those guys—”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. I’m sorry you had to hear that—”

  “It’s okay.”

  “And I’m sorry they did that to you.”

  “I told you. It’s—”

  “Fine. Yeah, I know. And I know you better than that.” He was silent for a moment. “They’re full of shit anyway.”

  I nodded, because he was right. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Well, thank you anyway.”

  Dawson rubbed the goosebumps away from my arms and gave me a small smile. “You’re better than all those guys—you know that, right?”

  “Girls too?” I teased, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. I wanted to rewind to a few hours ago, before I’d issued invites to anyone. I wanted to just watch a silly comedy with Dawson and quote movies and take cracks at each other. But I couldn’t deny that the damage was done. Who knew if they’d heed Dawson’s warning? The whole school could find out what happened.

  “Better than all of them. And Paige? Who gives a damn what any of them say. Seriously. You know you’re kickass. I think you’re kickass. Who cares what anyone else says?”

  That made me finally crack a smile. “I did look pretty kickass standing here holding a bag of chips, huh?”

  “Jackie Chan would be shivering in his boots.”

  “I dunno, I think scary Dawson yelling might have him beat,” I said, picking the bags up off the floor, and again, he took the heavier ones and put them on his shoulder. As I walked past him, heading back toward the kitchen to put all the stuff away, he reached out and s
topped me.

  “You know I’d never want to hurt you like that or embarrass you, right?” he said, and cupped my cheek. “I’d never do that to you, Paige. You know I wouldn’t.”

  “PAIGE?”

  AS I shook away the memory of sixteen-year-old me and Dawson, his eyes came into focus in front of me, and the concern in them echoed the ones I’d just seen.

  “Are you okay? Where’d you go?”

  He was too close, his gaze too earnest, and as my breath hitched, I found myself backing away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step forward, and again I moved back. He’d see right through me if he stayed, and that man had enough of my secrets to last a lifetime.

  “Go,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please… Please just leave me alone.”

  Something in my tone or in my expression must’ve told him I meant what I said, because after giving me a once-over like he was checking that I wasn’t physically injured, he nodded. I watched as he closed the door behind him, and then, unlike the me from my memory, I let myself fall apart on the bed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Never Make a Deal with the Devil

  “WE’RE GOING OUT.”

  Quinn’s statement brooked no argument, but I wasn’t going to argue. After a long week, I needed a stress reliever, and a night out on the town with my girls sounded like the perfect solution.

  “You read my mind. Where are we thinking?”

  “Jumbo’s,” she said, and I raised my eyebrows.

  “Ohh, it’s gonna be that kind of night.” I shuffled the phone between my neck and shoulder and headed into my closet to rifle through my naughtiest options. Quinn would be in one of her signature leather ensembles, no doubt something as short as she was. Hmm, what did I have with spikes or studs on it…

  “I figured you needed a break from domesticated bliss.”

  “You figured right. Although…” I stopped, because how to say that I hadn’t actually seen Dawson in the last couple of days? Or, rather, since the day I told him to leave me alone. I hadn’t meant for good, I’d just meant for the night, and—

  Wait, why was I even stressing about this? It wasn’t like I cared whether he came or went. I knew he hadn’t moved out because his suitcase was still in the room next to mine, and I’d noticed some of his clothes were hung up in the closet. Maybe he’d simply been obeying my wishes of leaving me alone, because he wasn’t a horrible human being and he got the point that I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him? Nahhh. He was still pretty horrible, even if I couldn’t stop replaying the diary memory that reminded me of a time when he’d been sweet.

  Maybe his absence could be explained by having to work late, or having dinner with his parents, or going out on hot dates—

  Okay, I didn’t really want to dwell on that last option because… Well, I just didn’t.

  “Hello? Did our connection drop or something?” Quinn said, and then she must’ve tapped the phone on a hard surface, because I heard three loud bangs.

  I held the phone away from my ear before saying, “No, I’m here. Let me slut myself up and I’ll meet you guys at—”

  “We’ll come to you,” she said. “See you at ten.”

  * * *

  WITH A NAME like Jumbo’s Clown Room, I’m sure you’re expecting some kind of carnival atmosphere, maybe some kiddie rides and animal balloons, a funnel cake, and, of course, clowns.

  Jumbo’s has none of those things, bar a few clown faces, hence why I was wearing a pair of black shorts that were practically indecent, a backless red top that dipped low in the front, and a pair of black pumps with spikes on the back, should anyone get too close. As our Uber pulled up to the entrance—none of us wanted to be the designated driver this evening—the line outside the building was already long. At first glance, you might think Jumbo’s was a strip club, but that wouldn’t do justice to what was happening inside.

  Bypassing the line after handing the valet we passed twenty bucks each, we entered the loud, already-packed small room, the sounds of Guns N’ Roses blaring as a burlesque dancer swung from the top of the pole on stage all the way down before sliding into a split. She had a killer GNR rose-and-studs bra on, and a pair of leather bikini bottoms that I knew Quinn was drooling over. When I bumped her shoulder, she looked over at me and grinned.

  “Bitch deserves at least a ten for those,” she said, pulling a bill out of the roll she kept in the garter under her mini, and then she walked up to the stage and waited until the dancer walked over to grab it—between her breasts.

  “Hot damn, I wish I could do that,” Ryleigh said from beside me, shaking her head.

  I know you may be wondering why the hell we’d chosen to watch female pole dancers during our night out instead of going out dancing. The answer was simple—the women who rocked the stage at Jumbo’s were badass, doing tricks on the stage and pole that were damn impressive, so call it a night of female empowerment. Jumbo’s was a unique Hollywood landmark, somewhere you had to go and experience to really get the full effect. The dancers always kept their clothes on, never stripping it all off, because while I was an equal opportunist when it came to experimenting, the other girls would’ve preferred lap dances of the cock variety.

  “Shots first?” Quinn asked, and before we could say anything, she was making her way to the bar, Shayne following her.

  “So,” Ryleigh said, nudging me. “Think we’ll see the girl who pours that neon hot wax all over herself?”

  “One can only hope.”

  “Agreed.”

  I could tell there was more she wanted to say, but she turned her attention to the dancer walking on stage covered in tattoos and a Harley Quinn getup. There were dollar bills being thrown on stage before the music even started.

  “Go ahead and ask,” I said.

  Ryleigh laughed. “I’m that transparent, huh?”

  “You don’t have a great poker face, no.”

  “Well, Shayne mentioned Dawson had moved in—”

  “Against my will.”

  “And I was curious how things have…progressed?”

  “Regressed, you mean.” I pulled out a few dollar bills from the pocket of my shorts and tossed them on stage, and the dancer gave me a wink.

  “There’s no way things are worse than before. You guys fought all the time. What’s going on now?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “You don’t know?”

  “We haven’t exactly talked the last couple of days.”

  “What? Paige, what did you do?”

  I put my hands on my hips as I faced her. “Why the hell does it always have to be something I did?”

  “Because you’re not called Pita for nothing, babes.”

  Sighing, I turned my attention back to the dancer. “He hasn’t been around. I didn’t do anything. He’s a free man.”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes, really. A piece of paper doesn’t change that.”

  Ryleigh looked over her shoulder and around us. “Jesus, Paige, don’t say that too loud or you’ll get another lovely front-page feature.”

  “I doubt it’d do any more damage than it already has.”

  She frowned, her eyes full of compassion. “Still losing clients left and right?”

  “I’m down to two weddings this month, and I think that’s only because it was too late for them to find someone else.”

  “Oh, Paige—”

  “Red-headed sluts in honor of Shaaaaayne,” Quinn yelled as she and the redhead in question handed out plastic shot glasses full of ruby liquid.

  “Yes, that kinky bitch,” I agreed, grateful for the subject change. I knew Ry meant well, but I couldn’t take the sympathetic words. It’d been a long couple of days of trying to convince brides I didn’t think their marriages would end up as a big, fat D, but apparently my poker face must not be great either, because they seemed to see right through those words. And, okay, so I was a bit jaded, but what do you expect when you ch
oose “At Last” for your first dance song, because it’s only been done by literally everyone and their mama and their grandmama before.

  Like I said. Jaded.

  “To sexy bitches who know how to pop it,” Quinn said, holding up her shot as we followed her movement. “And by that, I mean us.”

  As the sweet alcohol hit my taste buds, I happened to glance at the door, where a foursome of guys were making their way inside. The three dark-headed ones in the front were friends of Dawson’s, and the one in the back was—a tall guy moved out of the way—and it revealed…

  Dawson.

  Here.

  In the small confines of Jumbo’s.

  What were the damn odds?

  The surprise must’ve shown on my face as I watched him glance around and then head with the other guys in the direction of the bar, because the girls all whipped their heads in his direction too.

  “Oh shit,” Quinn said.

  Ryleigh nodded. “This should be fun.”

  “Fun?” Shayne finished off her shot and then shook her head. “You didn’t see them practically murder each other with their eyes the other night.”

  “Like I said. Should be fun,” Ryleigh said with a grin.

  I ducked down in front of Shayne, since she was the tallest. “Maybe he won’t know I’m here.”

  “This place only fits, like, maaaybe fifty people, honey. Prepare yourself now.” Quinn took away my empty shot. “Oh, and you’re cut off.”

  “The fuck? I only make bad decisions like marrying people when you’re not around. You guys are here, so you can protect me—”

  “From the big, bad Dick?” Shayne snorted. “Nice try. I’ve never known you to need protection from one of those. Well…I mean, besides the obvious form, of course.”

  “Bloody hilarious,” I said, mimicking her accent.