Beast

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  “Where to?” the cab driver asks in a terse accent that I can’t quite place.

  I inhale deeply. “Battery Park.”

  Chapter 47

  I spin the tumbler around on the table in front of me. Fuck me if I don’t feel like shit right now. I just had yet another unproductive meeting with Shadow. Chess Davidson is clean. Absolutely fucking clean. Not a single stain on his record.

  It looks like I’ve lost Jasmine for good. There’s no way I can pursue her now knowing that she has the perfect man in her life.

  So, I’ve been sitting here, drowning my sorrows in glass after glass of whiskey ever since Shadow left two hours ago with his red-headed, skater chick. I should probably get back to my loft before my words start to slur and my eyesight starts to blur. But I don’t want to sit alone in my big, lifeless, echoic apartment tonight. I don’t want to spend the night strapped to my bed, letting the demons have their way with me. So, I sit alone here in this shadowy booth all the way at the back of the pub.

  Shadow’s words replay in my head. “I don’t get it man – if you want this woman and she wants you, why don’t you just take her? Who cares if Davidson is a good guy or a bad guy? If you want the woman, take her.”

  Sounds pretty simple. Except that I don’t just want Jasmine Santiago. I love her. And taking her would be selfish if I know that she’ll be better off with someone else. It hurts to let her free but it’s for the best. At least, so it seems.

  Every time I look up, I catch the blonde with the bangs and high ponytail stealing glances at me. Veronica is her name. I think that’s what her friend said. She’s been keeping my glass topped up all night, hand-delivering measure after measure of liquor.

  Just before 11:30, she comes over to my table.

  “Hey,” she says. I look up at her and in the dim lighting, her eyes look nervous.

  I nod in acknowledgement. I’m in no shape to speak right now.

  She fidgets with the pen and small notepad in her hand. “My shift is ending now. I was just wondering if you’d like another drink or…something.”

  I shake my head ‘no’, tipping my half-full glass at her.

  She inhales dramatically before pulling off her apron and dropping it into the seat across from me. “Look, my name is Vanessa and…Hi.” She waves awkwardly.

  I nod to her again, giving her my best attempt at a smile.

  She rakes her fingers through her bangs. “Do you think I can maybe have a drink with you?”

  Although Vanessa’s anxious energy is grating on my nerves, I think that having some company right now might do me some good. I shrug a shoulder sluggishly. “Sure.”

  Vanessa sits opposite me and gets one of her co-workers to bring her a vodka tonic. She begins to drink and after a while she begins to thaw off just a bit although her nervous rambling continues. I honestly don’t think she’s realized that I haven’t contributed a word to this conversation since I gave her the green light to sit down.

  Eventually, I order another whiskey. Vanessa has a second drink and a third and then she’s scooting awfully close to me, slurring her words. The saccharine fragrance of her cheap vanilla-scented perfume burns the back of my throat. “I think you’re so fucking hot,” she says, her words bumping into each other. “If I didn’t work here, I’d totally take you to the bathroom…and suck your cock. But I work here and somebody…might see me. But if I didn’t work here…I’d suck your cock…In the bathroom.”

  I look at her, falling over on me, barely able to keep herself together. And I’m not much better than her. My feet feel like lead and I’m seeing doubles. “Let’s get out of here,” I bumble as I help her stand. Her body is tight and warm under my hands. She wobbles in her tall, tall heels and short cut-off jeans. I slip my hand around her waist to steady her, not that I’m steady myself but I’d hate to see this girl fall and smash her pretty, freckled face.

  As we stumble out of the bar, a poster hanging near the front entrance grabs my attention. “Chester Davidson for President,” it reads.

  I scowl at his pretty boy face smiling down on me.

  Narcissistic son-of-a-bitch!

  He stole the girl of my dreams and now he has the nerve to smirk at me as I stumble out of a pub, drunk off my ass with a random, meaningless blond tucked under my arm.

  I hurry Vanessa out onto the sidewalk outside of the bar. Her arms are locked around my neck and she’s slurping sloppily at the stubbly flesh of my throat, whispering obscenities that would make a call-girl blush. I feel my cock stirring ever so slightly.

  The yellow cab can’t pull up to the curb fast enough. I haul the door open and Vanessa climbs in. I lean towards the cabbie. “Get this lovely lady home safe,” I slur as I shove a $50 bill his way. “Good night, Vanessa.”

  “Wait! Where are you going?” she protests loudly as I close the door. She clings to the window. “I thought we were fucking tonight!”

  I lean forward, slumping against the side of the car and cup her face in my hand. “Maybe in another lifetime, pretty girl. I can’t give my body to you when my heart belongs to someone else.”

  Chapter 48

  As I round the corner, slogging it towards the main entrance to my building, I notice a shady figure loitering in the shadows.

  That sobers me up real quick.

  All my senses go on alert as I duck behind an old shipping container and peer around the bend. My vision is still blurry, but as the silhouette paces to and fro in front of the door, I’m able to make out jeans. And a dark sweater. Coffee-brown hair is pulled high on her head and she’s muttering to herself as she moves back and forth, back and forth.

  “Jasmine.”

  She startles, dropping her phone as she pivots around to look at me. “Liam. What are you doing here?”

  I struggle to maintain my balance as I plod towards her. “I live here. Why are you here? It’s not safe for you to be wandering around alone in an industrial yard at night.”

  She looks at me and tears spring to her eyes. “I miss you…” She says it so softly that I question whether I heard her right, but the look on her face tells me that I did.

  She looks so pretty, so vulnerable. I reach out and draw my finger along her bottom lip. I just need to be touching her right now.

  My mind flashes back to all the things she said about wanting to give Chess a fair chance to win her heart. I know that he’s a better choice for her than I am. I have to put my own desires on the backburner and do what’s best for her.

  “I can’t cross that line with you, Jasmine,” I say, my voice thick and hoarse.

  “I know,” she whispers, sadly with cloudy eyes. Her bottom lip quivers. “But do you want to? Answer that,” she pleads. “For my sanity, tell me I’m not imagining the fire between us. Do you want to cross the line, Liam?”

  I should tell her ‘yes’. Tell her that I want to obliterate the fucking line, destroy it. But I can’t leave the door open, not even a crack because if I do, a part of her will keep holding out for me.

  My stomach feels like a rollercoaster, flipping and wheeling and swirling inside of me when I say, “No. There’s no fire between us, Jasmine. Sorry. I just want you as a friend.”

  Chapter 49

  Ruthie rolls a small lock of my hair around the hot curling iron and stares at my reflection in the mirror. “You could look more excited, y’know,” she says teasingly.

  I glance up from my lap and my eyes meet hers. “I’m excited,” I say but she doesn’t look convinced.

  She sighs as she sets the curling iron down on the dressing table and grabs the can of hairspray next to it. “This is about Liam, isn’t it?” she asks sympathetically. She leans down so that she’s looking me in the eye. “Jazz – he’s a jerk, okay? If he doesn’t realize how great you are, if he’d rather play games than just be honest with you, he’s a jerk. That’s not your fault.”

  “I know that,” I say softly. But it still hurts.

  She sits on the edge of the dresser and scoo
ps up her glass of white wine. “Look – We’re about to go to this ostentatious benefit gala tonight looking absolutely posh, escorted by the two most handsome men in the city. We’re gonna talk, we’re gonna laugh, we’re gonna eat some tiny, expensive hors d’oeuvres and we’re not gonna talk about Liam once all night. Okay?”

  I give her a small laugh. “Okay…”

  Silence falls over us as my friend picks up the curling iron and goes back to fussing over my hair.

  I may have agreed not to talk about Liam, but that certainly doesn’t mean that he isn’t wrecking havoc in my brain. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I went over to his place last night. He’s made it clear to me that he doesn’t want a relationship with me, still I showed up at his place desperate and unannounced and what did I get? A metaphorical punch in the gut. It killed me – seeing him stumbling home drunk well past midnight, some other woman’s perfume clinging to his skin, hearing him tell me that he doesn’t feel the connection between us.

  Tears press heavily against my eyelids, threatening to pour down my face and ruin the makeup that Ruthie worked over half an hour to apply.

  “Hey sweetie,” Ruthie singsongs. “Don’t tell me you’re crying. Don’t cry.” She’s panicking just a little bit.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” I say with a flick of my wrist, waving her away.

  She pulls my curled and sprayed mane off of my face and clips it back with bobby pins. “I know that it’s hard, but you should really try and open yourself up to Chess some more. He won’t hurt you the way Liam has.”

  I swallow hard as I lean forward and grab a tissue out of the box on the table. “Maybe you’re right,” I say exhaling harshly. I did promise myself that I’d give Chess a fair shot. I haven’t done that, but I owe it to my poor, battered heart to try.

  Ruthie steps back from the mirror and admires her handiwork. “You look like a million bucks, Jazz,” she says enthusiastically as she unplugs the curling iron and cleans up the mess of elastics and bobby pins and hair pomades from the table. She tucks everything into her large canvas bag as she heads towards my front door. “Now, I’ve gotta go get ready.”

  “Thanks, Ruthie,” I say as she pulls the door open. “For everything.”

  “Of course, Jasmine. I’ve got your back,” she says with a wink as she slides into the hallway. She turns and gives me a big hug. “So, the limousine will pick up me and Michael first, then it will stop by Chess’s hotel before coming up here to pick you up and get us all to the gala. You’ll be ready by 8:15, right?”

  “Right,” I assure her before I swing the door closed. “See ya at 8:15, Ruths.”

  Chapter 50

  I’m parked across the street between a pickup truck and an SUV. My visor is pulled down, obscuring my face. I watch as Ruth hurries out of Jasmine’s building and jumps into a car idling on the curb. I wait till it’s out of sight before I slink off of the bike, dart across the street and pick the lock to the main entrance.

  My heart pounds against my chest as I steal up the four flights of stairs to her apartment. I double-check the apartment number that Luce had scribbled onto a tiny, yellow Post-It earlier on when I’d asked her to find me Jasmine’s complete address. I quickly thump my fist into her door so I don’t chicken out and go home. It takes her a while to answer, but when that door finally swings open, she takes my breath away.

  She’s in a black, low-cut dress with a huge gold buckle at the waist and a long slit up the side. The fabric molds to her body, reminding me of every curve and every bend of her delectable frame. Black heels make her four inches taller and golden bangles ornament her wrists. Her head is tilted to the side and her hands are frozen mid-air, a gold hoop earring poised to be slipped onto her ear.

  I can’t stomach the thought that he gets to have this tonight.

  Her hands drop to her sides and she frowns. “Liam.”

  That’s when I realize that my damn mouth is hanging open. I snap it shut and run my hand against my scarred cheek.

  “Can I help you?” She folds her arms across her chest and eyes me with a cocked brow.

  “Jasmine…You look…”

  “Yes – I look great. Fabulous, actually,” she snaps. “Now, why are you here?”

  I hate seeing her this way. Angry, cautious, defensive. That’s not who she is. I’ve made her this way.

  “Let me come in,” I say weakly. “I need to talk to you.”

  She glares at me. “I’m actually on my way out. I’m running late.”

  I give her a pointed look. “Jasmine. Five minutes.” I’m not backing down. I guess she can read it in my eyes because eventually, she rolls her eyes and steps aside, letting me into her apartment.

  But she doesn’t move to sit at the kitchen table or on the couch. She just stands in the small foyer, waiting for me to speak.

  That’s okay. I don’t need a Cuban cigar and a drink of bourbon, for god’s sake. I just need a few moments of her time.

  “I know about Chess,” I say.

  Her nose twists up. “You know about Chess?”

  “He has secrets, Jasmine. He hasn’t been genuine.”

  Shadow has finally been able to find the bombshell that I’ve been hoping for. Chester Davidson is a douchebag and he doesn’t deserve my Jasmine.

  I reach into my jacket for the folder that Shadow prepared for me. But Jasmine rushes forward, shoving me with all her might. My body barely budges but stunned, I lose my grip on the folder. It slips from my hand and falls to the floor, pictures and sheets of paper fluttering about before landing at our feet.

  I gape at the fiery little woman in front of me. “Why are you doing this?” she shrieks hysterically. “You just keep fucking with my head, Liam. You’re trying to drive me crazy. I’ve moved on. I love Chess now. You need to leave me alone.”

  Her words are a round of ammunition emptied straight into my heart. But when I look at her, when I really study her face, I see that she’s not telling the truth.

  “You’re lying again,” I say simply.

  “You need to stop calling me a liar.” She’s offended and her tone doesn’t hide it.

  I inch closer to her, dropping my face to hers. “When you stop lying to me, I’ll stop calling you a liar.”

  She opens her mouth, probably to spew some weak excuse but I shut her up. “YOU DON’T LOVE HIM!” I roar. My hand cradles the back of her head and I press my lips into hers. She softens, melting into my touch. Then my voice drops low. “Not the way you love me…”

  She looks away, her eyes full of tears. “I’m marrying him, Liam. In two weeks,” she announces, her voice cracking.

  That’s when I look down and notice the modest diamond on her ring finger. Shocked, I stumble backwards through the open door.

  “I’ll take a leave of absence from the law firm and I’ll go on the campaign trail with him.”

  “I won’t allow it.” The words come out much weaker than I intended. “I’m the managing partner of the firm. I won’t let you take a leave of absence to be with that asshole.”

  She sighs, clearly exasperated, too tired to fight. “What are you gonna do, huh? Fire me? Fine, then. I’ll quit.”

  “He’s been playing with you, Jasmine. Why are you doing this? Why would you marry him?” I hate how pathetic I sound, but I’m desperate. I don’t want to lose her forever.

  A tear rolls down her cheek. “Because you haven’t given me a reason not to.” She closes the door softly, leaving me a fool standing out in the hallway.

  Chapter 51

  I ended up staying home instead of going to the stupid gala two nights ago. I gave Chess some excuse about having food poisoning. I did feel sick to the stomach but it had nothing to do with what I had eaten during the day.

  Liam Fucking Cartwright.

  That man sure knows how to crush my heart into little tiny fragments.

  I’d pick Liam in an instant but he isn’t offering himself to me. He doesn’t want me and he stood there in my
doorway two nights ago highlighting to me that Chess doesn’t want me, either. Does this man get a kick out of seeing me alone?

  Well, fuck you, Liam. Fuck you to hell. I’m getting married…

  …What the fuck am I doing?

  Yes, I’m marrying Chess because I need to do something drastic, something radical to free myself from Liam’s clutch. Two years of longing for him is more than enough. It’s time to move on.