“Anyway.” She brushes imaginary dust off her hands on her black skirt. “Thank you for your help. I should probably… get going.”
I look at the window and see the sun has started to set. “Do you live far from here?”
She tells me her address and I feel sick. “That’s where you live?” I say. “In that piece-of-shit neighborhood?”
She frowns at me. Maybe I was harsh. But no—she lives in the fucking ghetto. The thought of her taking the subway to that place sends a chill down my spine.
“I’m driving you home,” I say.
“That’s okay.”
“No. I’m driving you home.”
She doesn’t protest again.
We travel down together to the basement, where I’ve got my car parked. There’s a valet, but even though my car switches out of hand control mode, it’s complicated enough that I’d rather park myself. The handicapped spots are right by the entrance anyway.
When we get to my BMW, I gotta be the opposite of a gentleman and tell Jessie she has to wait till I’m in the car to get inside herself. The passenger seat has to move forward so I can stick my wheelchair in the back, so she has to wait. Not my first choice, but it is what it is. She’s watching me so I try to make the transfer as quick as I can—I don’t like her seeing the way I gotta grab my legs and pull them into the car. Obviously, she already knows I can’t walk, but now she must know the extent of my situation. I don’t like to advertise it, but there’s no choice.
I drive downtown, through increasingly seedy-looking streets while Jessie sits silently next to me into the car. I got music on, but I’m not listening to it. All I’m doing is thinking about Jessie. We’re both sitting now—I’ve gotta kiss her before she gets out. If I do it too soon, that will be it—I’ll have blown it again. I gotta be patient. Wait for the right moment.
Traffic is a mess. On any other day, I’d be leaning on my horn, shouting curses out the window at cab drivers cutting me off and bikers who don’t think traffic lights apply to them. But I’m grateful for the traffic today. It gives me extra time to figure things out.
I pull up to the curb in front of Jessie’s building. What a mess. The awning is torn to shreds and the bricks of the building are caked in grime. There’s a guy standing outside smoking a joint—at least, I hope it’s a joint. I want to walk her to the door—I want to accompany her up to her apartment door and make sure she gets there safely like I used to when we were kids, but that’s not a possibility for many reasons.
“It’s safe,” Jessie says because it’s obvious what I’m thinking.
“Whatever you say,” I mutter. I’m not gonna argue with her on this. It’s like someone telling me the sky is green. I know what I see with my own eyes.
She looks up at me with her big, blue eyes. “Thanks for your help tonight, Nick.”
“My pleasure.”
We’re looking at each other now. My eyes are locked with hers—I don’t think either of us can look away. If there were a time tonight to kiss her, it’s now. My heart is slamming in my chest and I can almost taste her lips on mine. It makes me think of that first time I kissed her, back when we were still kids. I remember how bad and how long I wanted it and how scared I was. And how great it felt when she kissed me back.
Do it, you chicken shit!
I lean forward slightly and it seems like she does the same. I shift in my seat, trying to get closer, but that’s when my knee bumps against the hand controls, setting off a spasm in my right leg. I swear loudly as my leg starts jumping up and down on its own volition. Jessie’s eyes widen.
“I… I better go,” she stammers, her face pink.
I grab my knee and the spasm quiets quickly, but it’s too late. My goddamn body has ruined the moment. I take a deep breath, pushing away my frustration, and force a smile. “Yeah, okay.”
After Jessie races out of the car and gets safely inside her building, I let my head drop down against the steering wheel. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
I wonder how much that goddamn spasm set me back. I thought I was close to kissing her only two minutes earlier, but I could see the surprise and discomfort on her face—she couldn’t get out of my car fast enough. So much for making her think I’m the same guy I always was.
Winning her back isn’t going to be easy.
But once I get her back, you better fucking believe I’m never gonna do anything to screw it up ever again.
Chapter 13
Nick
I’m sitting on my sofa, and Natalie is on my lap and her tongue is down my throat. I called her an hour ago and she was here in twenty minutes. There are things I don’t like about the girl, but I have to admit, she gets here fast when I want her. She really must want to keep that apartment of hers.
She unbuttons my shirt, her fingers running up and down my chest. The sensation of her hand disappears and reappears as she goes below the line where the bullet severed my spinal cord. When she touches my belly, I feel nothing—she could be touching another person, for all I’d know. I don’t like to be touched there, partially because I can’t feel it and partially because I’m not proud of my gut. Natalie knows this and she doesn’t linger there.
When Natalie and I were first together, I went down on her, thinking if I could give her sexual pleasure, maybe our relationship could turn into something more. It didn’t work out as I expected—at least not at first. I’ve performed oral sex on enough girls to know when the response I’m getting is real, and I could tell Natalie was faking it. I finally called her on it.
“You’re not really having an orgasm when I go down on you, are you?” I asked her.
“Not really,” she admitted. When she saw the look on my face, she added, “Don’t feel bad about it, Nick. I don’t have orgasms very easily. And I don’t really like oral sex.”
But I was determined to make it happen. For a while, Natalie would just lie there like a lump and it was frustrating as hell. But then I figured out her sweet spots. When I finally got her to come for real, I gave myself a big pat on the back.
I don’t know if she’s expecting oral sex right now. She hasn’t asked for it, but that’s not unusual. She usually waits for me to offer. Instead, she continues kissing and licking my neck.
Natalie’s lips on my neck or nipples is usually enough to get me sweaty and worked up while she’s going at it. But this time, all I can think about is Jessie. I don’t want Natalie kissing me—I only want Jessie. This make-out session is just depressing.
“Hey,” I tell Natalie. “You can stop.”
“Okay,” she says, without questioning my motives. She climbs off my lap, hesitates for a moment, then goes to the bathroom. Natalie can spend an hour in the bathroom without blinking an eye. I don’t know what the hell goes on in there. Sometimes I wonder if she’s doing drugs. Maybe I don’t want to know.
I’m still sitting on the sofa, watching some television, when I hear my phone ringing where I left it in the kitchen. I look over at my wheelchair next to me, feeling exhausted by the effort I’ll have to expend just to answer the damn phone. Anyone else could just hop out off the couch and dart to the kitchen. Sometimes the reality of my situation frustrates the hell out of me.
Still, I’ve got some business deals I’ve been waiting to hear about, so I push myself to get back in my chair. I find my phone in the kitchen and discover the missed call is from Alex Mitchell. The shower is still running, so I call him back.
“Alex? It’s Nick.” I shift in my chair, adjusting my position. “What’s going on?”
“I auditioned your friend Jessica Schultz today,” he tells me.
I grin. “She’s great, right?”
“You gotta be kidding me, Nick,” he snorts. “First of all, she’s thirty-one…”
“I’m thirty-one.”
“Yeah, and I’m not hiring you to sing for the club, am I?” Alex sighs. “Plus she’s fat.”
What the fuck? “Are you out of your mind? She’s not fat. A
t all.”
“She’s got cellulite,” he says. “I could see it.”
“You know, Alex,” I say, “every girl you have working there has the figure of a pre-pubescent boy with these tacked-on fake silicone tits. This girl actually has natural curves. What the hell is wrong with that?”
“It’s just the wrong look,” he insists. “She’s not a Cleopatra girl.”
“She’s got a great voice,” I point out.
“Yeah, she’s decent. So what?”
“Fuck you, Alex,” I say. “Hire Jessie. Give her a job singing twice a week. You got me?”
There’s a pause on the other line. Finally, Alex laughs. “Are you trying to fuck her, Nick?”
Well, yeah. But I don’t think this will get me there. “She’s a friend. It’s my club, Alex. I decide who works there.”
I don’t say it but the implication is obvious: I decide who works there, including you.
“If you want her so bad, she’s in,” Alex says quickly. “You’re the boss, right?”
Right.
Natalie emerges from the bathroom, her makeup refreshed. She offers me a thin smile, probably hopeful I’ll tell her she can go home. Natalie’s not one for spending the night—she likes her own place.
I watch her sit down on the sofa and cross one of her long, shapely legs over the other. Natalie has the most perfect legs of any woman I ever met.
“Listen,” I say to her, “you’ve been great, Natalie, but I don’t think this is working out anymore.”
Natalie lifts her big blue eyes, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. She rarely shows emotion and this is the most upset I’ve ever seen her. “What do you mean?”
I hate breaking up with girls, but I know I gotta do this. Now that I’ve spent some time with Jessie, I know I can’t be satisfied in this relationship. Not anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But this is over.”
Her brows furrow together. “Is there something else you’d like me to do for you… sexually?”
She says it with no excitement. It’s like I’m letting one of my employees go, and they’re asking me if it would help if they did more filing.
“No, it’s nothing about you,” I say. She looks real upset, so I quickly add, “I’ll keep paying your rent for the next three months, okay? Until you can find something else.”
The frown reverses. “You will?”
“Yeah. No problem.”
Christ, I don’t want her to be living on the street.
She hugs me goodbye and it’s not as bad as some of the others. Like I said, we had an understanding. I wish she could have been more to me, but she wasn’t. There was no point in continuing the lie.
Jessie
When Alex Mitchell calls me, I’m in the middle of dinner with Seth. I see the number on the screen and almost don’t answer—the phone call will just be depressing. I auditioned with him a couple of days ago and it didn’t go well. The first thing he did when I walked in was demand to know my age. When I answered honestly, he looked at me like I was old as Methuselah. Then he started babbling about how he thought I’d be too big to fit into any of the costumes. By the time I started actually singing, he could hardly be bothered to look up from his phone.
So in summary, I don’t think I got the job. But I’m going to find out sooner or later, so it may as well be now, while Seth is here to comfort me.
“Jessica!” Mitchell booms into the phone. “It’s Alex Mitchell.”
I glance up at Seth, who’s giving me a curious look. “Hello, Mr. Mitchell.”
“Please call me Alex,” he says. “After all, we’re going to be working together. You got the job.”
My mouth falls open. “I… I did?”
“Sure you did,” Mitchell says. “I’d like to start you out two nights a week, if that works for you?”
“Uh… of course,” I mumble. “Yes, that would be great.”
I can’t believe he’s hiring me. I thought he hated me during that audition. Maybe I was better than I thought. After all, he did look up from his phone during the chorus. Maybe he doesn’t need to hear much to make a decision. Like those food critics who can write a review after only a couple of bites.
“And you should say a big thank you to Nick Moretti,” Mitchell adds. He says it jovially, but there’s an edge to his voice.
Okay, now I get it. He didn’t like me after all. He hated me, just like every other person who ever auditioned me. He didn’t want me singing at his club. But Nick told him he had to hire me, so here we are.
Seth is staring at me when I get off the phone. Under ordinarily circumstances, I’d be jumping up and down with excitement over this news. But I can’t help but feel bad that I only got the job because of Nick, not on my own merit.
“I, um…” I force a smile. “I got the job at Cleopatra’s.”
Seth’s eyes widen. “Are you serious? How did you manage that?”
I shrug. “I guess they liked me.”
I can see him turning that idea over in his mind. I’m not sure he believes it any more than I did. His eyes darken. “So Nick Moretti got you a job, did he?”
“Seth, it’s not like that,” I say, even though I’m not sure whether or not I mean it.
“The fuck it isn’t.” He slams his fork down on his plate. “That’s exactly how guys like that work. He throws some work your way and now he thinks he gets to fuck you.”
“Seth!”
He shoves his plate away from him. “That asshole could have any woman he wants… what the hell is he going after you for?”
“He’s not going after me,” I insist.
“Don’t be naïve.” He snorts. “I bet you like him, don’t you? I saw a picture in the papers of the guy once—he’s really good-looking.”
I can’t argue with that sentiment. Nick is really good-looking. But there’s something else I bet Seth doesn’t know about him. Still, I refuse to tell him about Nick’s disability just to soothe this irrational jealousy.
“Seth,” I say, “you need to relax. Nothing is ever going to happen between me and Nick Moretti. I swear.”
His jaw twitches.
“Don’t you trust me?” I say.
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” he mumbles.
If he had any idea Nick was the guy I’d been in love with when the two of us first met, he’d be livid. I’d never be allowed to work at Cleopatra’s. I just have to keep trying to convince him that this is entirely innocent. Which it is.
Chapter 14
Nick
“Mr. Moretti, I have a man here who says he wants to see you urgently.”
It’s my assistant Wendy’s voice, coming from my intercom. She sounds mildly distressed, which is unusual because she’s always really calm. If I’d followed through on what I planned to do to John Lombardi, I’m be shitting my pants right now. But as it is, I’m more curious than anything.
“Who is it?” I ask her.
“He says his name is Seth Parsons.”
Seth Parsons. It takes me a few seconds to place the name. Then it hits me—Jessie’s fiancé. He’s here. And it’s not hard to guess why. I have to give the guy some credit though—if he has any clue who I am, it took a lot of nerve for him to show up here. He must really like her—not that I can blame him.
“He seems really upset, Nick,” Wendy murmurs into the phone. “I think he wants to make trouble. Do you want me to call security and have him escorted out?”
I won’t lie. I like the idea of having Jessie’s boyfriend tossed out by my thugs. But it wouldn’t help me get what I want. If I want Jessie to sing at Cleopatra’s, I gotta make nice to this Seth guy.
“No,” I say. “Let him in.”
“Are you sure, because—”
“Don’t worry about it, Wendy. Let him in.”
It’s not like I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I have, and I know exactly what to do to diffuse it.
I wheel out from behind my desk. I see
my feet are crooked in the footplate. The left one is okay, but the right one is turned in about thirty degrees. If I were going into a meeting, I’d fix them to make sure they were both pointing straight ahead. But instead, I leave it as it is.
Seth Parsons bursts into my office a few seconds later. I vaguely recognize him as the man who was escorting Jessie to her father’s funeral three years ago. He’s average-looking—so nondescript he’d make a good hitman. But he’s tall and lean and has a certain determination I can imagine Jessie finding attractive.
The anger in Seth’s eyes is plain. He’s ready to tell me where I can shove that Cleopatra’s job. But then he sees me—all of me—and the anger immediately fades.
“Oh,” he sputters. “I… I didn’t realize you were…”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“It’s just…” He rakes a hand through his hair, making it stand up. “In the photo I saw, you weren’t… you know…” When I don’t respond, he quickly says, “Never mind.”
It’s amusing at the same time it’s insulting. Because I’m in a wheelchair, I’m no threat to his girlfriend. We’ll see about that.
“Can I help you with something, Mr. Parsons?” I ask him in my most bland, polite voice.
“No, I…” He smiles crookedly. “I’m Jessica Schultz’s fiancé.”
I make my face blank. “Who?”
“She… she’s a friend of Chrissy’s,” he says. “You helped her get a job at Cleopatra’s Lounge…”
“Oh.” I nod, pretending I’m placing her for the first time. As if I could forget Jessie. “Right. So she got the job then? Good for her.” I smile apologetically. “I don’t make the hiring decisions at the club.”
“Of course,” Seth says quickly. “I’m sure you have much more important things to do than that.”
“Yes. I do.”
“But…” He forces that smile again. “I just wanted to thank you personally, because… well, Jess is really happy about the job. I mean, this has always been her dream, ever since we were in college, so… thank you.”
The Girl I Didn't Kill For (Jessie & Nick Book 2) Page 8
