Lawton

by Sabrina Stark

When I finished, Chloe gave the house a worried look. "I'm not sure what to do."

  Was she talking to me? Who knows?

  I answered anyway. "You stay here," I said, glancing toward the back patio. "Maybe try the back door again. I'll try the front."

  She blinked back what could only be tears. "But I already tried the front."

  At the look in her eyes, in spite of everything, I wanted to cradle her against me and make the worry go away. If I didn't leave soon, I might be stupid enough to try it.

  I glanced toward the front of the house. "Yeah, but I haven't. Maybe the knob's stuck."

  Or maybe, the lock was child's play for someone with the right tools and know-how.

  "Fine," she sighed, turning toward the back door.

  Before she reached it, I was already gone. Pulling my keys from my pocket, I circled to the front of the house. On the keyring, I had a few small tools tucked into something that looked like a Swiss Army knife. The tools were nothing elaborate, but good enough for a basic deadbolt.

  She needed a better system – a better lock, with some electronics for backup. Maybe I'd tell her.

  Yeah, she'd just love that.

  I had the lock popped in under a minute. Child's play, just like I thought.

  Time to make up some story. I turned and headed toward the back of the house, intercepting Chloe at the half-way point.

  "Got it," I said.

  She blinked. "What?"

  "The front door."

  "How?"

  I shrugged. "Probably stuck, just like I said." The lie felt wrong, but there it was. I glanced toward my car and said, "Well, I guess that's it."

  She bit her lip. "I guess." Something in her eyes told me she wanted to say more.

  I waited.

  Turns out, I was wrong.

  "Alright," I said. "See ya around."

  I turned away, heading toward my car. Once inside, I fired up the engine and waited. From the driver's seat, I sat, watching her through the windshield.

  For a couple of beats, she didn't move. And then, she began trudging toward the front door. Once there, she reached out and twisted the knob. It opened, just like I knew it would. A moment later, she was safely inside.

  As for me, I drove back to my place and walked through my own front door. I looked around, taking in the mess – the spilled drinks, the half-empty plates, a random high heel lying on its side. Other than the mess, the place was empty.

  Yeah, it was my home, I guess. But suddenly, the place felt way too big for only me. Funny, it hadn't felt like this last night, or the night before that.

  I picked up a glass and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the far wall, sending bits of glass and liquid flying. I heard myself mutter, "Fuckin' Chloe," just before I headed to the fridge for another beer.

  Chapter 35

  The next morning, I woke up late, hung over and still pissed off. From my upstairs bedroom, I heard the regular cleaning crew down below, working to put things back in order.

  I rolled out of bed, hit the shower, and went straight to the kitchen for coffee. Funny too, because I didn't normally drink the stuff.

  Then again, I didn't normally drink anything, quantity-wise, like I had the night before. That didn't even count the shots I'd done while the party was still going. It was later, sitting alone in the dark, that I'd done the serious drinking.

  Now, coffee in hand, I headed to my study and stayed there with the blinds shut and door locked, just like it had been the previous night.

  It was nearly noon, and I still felt like shit. On the business front, I'd missed two telecons and some photo shoot for an endorsement deal. On the personal front, I had a butt-load of phone messages that I didn't plan on returning.

  Screw it all.

  I called the office and had my assistant reschedule everything – and not only what I'd missed in the morning. In my current mood, the afternoon wasn't looking too good either.

  Cold anger kept me going until maybe four o'clock, when the cleaning crew finally left. Alone, I wandered through the house, trying to pretend that nothing had changed.

  As far as the house, yeah, nothing had changed. Any damage was fixed. Any messes were cleaned. Anything unfixable was replaced with something new.

  But when it came to me, nothing felt the same. I'd held her. I'd kissed her. And then, suddenly, she was gone. No explanation. No goodbye. No see-you-later. Had everything been a lie? A game? Something else? What?

  Where was she right now? At home, on the other side of the fence? Or at work, shaking her ass for kicks.

  God, I was such a dick.

  She wasn't a stripper, not even close. And so what if she liked that kind of job? I considered my own career, the sex tape included. When it came to my greatest hits, I'd been wearing a lot less than Chloe.

  Forget it.

  I headed back upstairs, planning to grab some workout clothes and hit the weights hard, anything to shake off my mood. But then, approaching my bedroom door, I paused, recalling that stupid red bow.

  Yeah, it was gone, but something else remained – a hazy memory of my argument with Brittney and Amber. They'd mentioned Chloe, something about her job.

  I closed my eyes, wanting to kick myself. The way it sounded, they'd gotten Chloe fired.

  Holy hell. How had I forgotten?

  But I knew how. That same girl had landed in my backyard, nearly naked. At first, my only thoughts were to keep her warm and safe. And then, with what she was wearing, and how she'd acted on my couch, it wasn't the head on my shoulders that had done most of the thinking.

  I recalled her tight curves and willing body. It was enough to distract anyone, even now. I felt myself frown. But not someone who really cared about her. Someone who really cared would've at least asked about the work thing. I made a sound of disgust. They would've at least remembered.

  Was I really that big of a dick?

  I shoved a hand through my hair. Maybe Brittney's story had been a load of bull. Determined to find out, I pulled out my cell phone and found the listing for the restaurant where Chloe worked. I called the number and waited.

  Some guy answered with a half-hearted, "Can I help you?"

  I sure as hell hoped so. "Yeah," I said. "I was there the other night, and someone, I think her name was Chloe, waited on me. Is she working tonight?"

  He hesitated. "Why do you want to know?"

  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about the guy that I didn't like. "Because," I said, "I'm a customer."

  "Yeah, well, we get a lot of those."

  I smiled. "What'd you say your name was?"

  "Uh, Keith. Why?" His tone grew sarcastic. "You gonna file a complaint?"

  "Nah," I said, keeping it friendly. "I'm gonna come down there in person. Fifteen minutes work for you?"

  He hesitated. "What?"

  "Yeah, Keith," I ditched the friendly tone. "Let's talk face-to-face."

  He gave a nervous laugh. "Hey, you said you've eaten here, right? I mean, we're supposed to be funny."

  "Yeah? Well, you're not."

  "Fine," he said. "Your loss. And, to answer the question, no. She's not working tonight. Okay?"

  "And?"

  He paused. "And what?"

  "Tomorrow. Is she working then?"

  He gave a sigh. "What, you want me to pull out the schedule?"

  "You can. Or I will."

  He was quiet a long moment. "Who is this?"

  It suddenly hit me that I could be anyone, an ex-boyfriend, a stalker, a random creep. If he were smart, he wouldn't tell me squat. But I had to know, so I kept my mouth shut and waited to see if he'd answer.

  Finally, on the other end of the phone, I heard fumbling, followed by the sounds of paper rustling. When he spoke, he sounded almost amused. "The schedule says Sunday."

  Whatever the joke was, I didn't get it. "So Sunday, she'll be there?" I said.

  "Hey," he said. "I'm the manager. I said she was on the schedule. But
I can't guarantee she'll be here. I mean, you know how it is."

  No. I didn't. But I'd gotten the information I wanted, so I disconnected the call and walked to the nearest front window. Outside, there it was, the sidewalk. All morning, I'd avoided looking at it, because let's face it, what I'd really been avoiding was Chloe.

  What a joke. Here, I'd called her job looking for answers when I should've gone straight to the source. It was still daylight. And for better or worse, I had to know what was going on.

  Ten minutes later, I was camped out on her front porch.

  She wasn't home, and neither was anyone else. Part of me whispered that I could slip inside, check out the closets, maybe find some paperwork – bills or something – maybe see who lived there, and who didn't.

  But between that and the call, I was edging dangerously close to stalker territory. And just because I could do it, it didn't mean I should do it. In a way it was like the fights. Sure, I could beat someone to death, but someday, I'd have to look in the mirror.

  In this case, I'd have to look into Chloe's eyes – if I was lucky – and pretend that I hadn't played dirty to get a chance with her.

  I'd been sitting there maybe a half-hour when her car pulled into the driveway. When she opened the car door, I got to my feet.

  From somewhere inside the house, I heard barking where there hadn't been any before. Chucky, obviously. Funny, he hadn't made a sound until now. Napping? Probably.

  As soon as I saw Chloe's face, the barking and everything else faded into the background. Walking slowly toward me, she looked nervous and maybe a little afraid. Of what? A scene? I swallowed. Me?

  What the hell had happened? This time yesterday, I'd have said we were friends if nothing else.

  It was time to just ask. I stepped forward. "I need to know something."

  "Hi to you too," she muttered.

  "Hi?" I said. "Or bye? 'Cause I'm having a hard time figuring it out."

  She looked down at her feet. "I don't know."

  "I know the feeling."

  She let out a long breath. "Look, I'm sorry things got so weird last night. It's just –" She shrugged. "I dunno."

  The sight of her, the sound of her, everything about her, it was hard to keep a cool head. I wanted answers. And if I were honest, I wanted more than that, even now.

  "Tell me," I said. "What'd I do? 'Cause I keep replaying everything in my head, and I can't figure it out. Was it something I said? Something I didn't say? Something I did, didn't do? What?"

  She glanced toward her front door. Behind it, Chucky was still going nuts. "I should let him out," she said, "give him a walk or something to burn off some of that energy."

  Yeah, blame the dog. Funny, she'd done that last night, too. And I'd let her. Not this time. If she wanted me to go, I'd go. But I wasn't going to swallow a slick lie and not call her on it.

  I crossed my arms. "Is this your way of telling me to leave?"

  Again, she glanced at the house. "Well, we can't be hanging around here, that's for sure."

  I studied her face. Why couldn't we talk here? Because of the douchebag? Someone else? The neighbors? What?

  "Why not here?" I asked. "You expecting someone?"

  "No," she said. "Nothing like that."

  "If you say so."

  "Look," she said, "it's time for Chucky's walk. And I need to get him before he trashes the place."

  "Go ahead," I said. "I'll wait."

  "You can wait if you want, but we still can't talk here." She glanced around, almost like she was embarrassed to be seen with me.

  I made a scoffing sound. Oh dear, what will the neighbors think?

  Screw that. In my old neighborhood? She wouldn’t be embarrassed. She'd be scared shitless.

  In front of me, she lowered her voice. "And it's not what you think. I just don't want to make a spectacle for the neighbors."

  Goodness, not a spectacle.

  Didn't she know? I was a walking, talking spectacle every fucking day.

  But I wasn't going to let that stop me. Time to point out the obvious. "I am one of the neighbors."

  She rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna wait or not?"

  "Oh trust me," I said, "I'm not going anywhere."

  A few minutes later, we were walking along the usual route. I held Chucky's leash the same as before. But that was the only thing that was the same. Chloe wasn't talking, and this time, the silence wasn't easy. It was hard as hell.

  By now, I had no idea what to do.

  Should I tell her that I called that restaurant and talked to her boss?

  Oh yeah, she'd just love that.

  Should I demand some answers?

  Right. Because, I'd done that already, and had loads of luck.

  Should I say screw it and go back home?

  At the thought, something inside me twisted. If I went back home, there was no guarantee I'd be back. And if I did come back, she'd probably slam the door in my face.

  Damn it.

  Enough was enough. If she wasn't going to say anything, I would. "So, why'd you leave last night?" My jaw clenched. "You got someone else? Is that it?"

  "No." She sounded almost surprised. "That's definitely not it. And I don't know why you even think that."

  She was kidding, right?

  I gave her a sideways glance. From the look on her face, she wasn't.

  Okay, time to spell it out. "Maybe it's because you get so squirrely every time we end up at your place." I waited a beat. "Assuming that is your place."

  Beside me, she glanced away and picked up the pace. "Squirrely?"

  Talk about squirrelly.

  "Yeah," I said. "Like you're hiding something, and I want to know what."

  "I'm hiding something? Well, that's rich." Her voice rose. "Wanna know what I don't get? Why you didn't invite me to your birthday party."

  What?

  I stopped in my tracks. She stopped, too. And for once, so did Chucky.

  Standing, dumbstruck on the sidewalk, I studied Chloe's face, that beautiful face that had been haunting my dreams. Her eyes were filled with something I hadn't expected – hurt.

  Holy shit. So the party was the problem? Relief and guilt surged through me. "You think I didn't want you there?"

  "Of course you didn't want me there," she said. "If you had wanted me there, you'd have actually, oh I don't know, invited me."

  I had wanted her there. More to the point, she was the only one I wanted there. I didn't want Brittney, or Amber, or a shitload of other people. I wanted Chloe, and I'd wanted her all to myself. And that was the real problem.

  "Let me ask you something," I said. "If I'd asked, would you have come?"

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out. In front of us, Chucky strained forward, barking at some bird or something. I held firm and waited.

  The question lingered, unanswered. My party. Would have she come?

  Finally, she murmured. "I don’t know."

  Well, that was nice. So she'd wanted to be invited, but wasn't sure she'd come. Why? Because she had other plans? With who? When I spoke, my voice was harder than I intended. "Yeah? I thought so."

  She lifted her chin. "But you invited Brittney."

  Not really. Technically, Brittney and Amber had invited me, even if it was at my house. But that wasn't the point. "And you know this, how?" I asked.

  She turned and began walking again. "Does it matter?" She kept her gaze straight ahead. "So you did invite her?"

  It was complicated. I didn't want to get into it. "Yeah," I said. "She was part of some general invitation. It was no big deal."

  "Sure," she said. "No big deal."

  Was that why she would've have come? Because she didn't want to see Brittney? Something in my shoulders eased. Maybe she didn't want to see Brittney with me.

  At the thought, I almost smiled. "So that's what you're mad about?"

  She stomped forward, picking up the pace. "I'm not mad. Alright?"

  She sure as hell looked mad. With
my free hand, I reached up to rub the back of my neck. "I don't get you, Chloe."

  "There's nothing to get," she said. "I'm a pretty simple person."

  I heard myself laugh. "You?" I stopped walking, and she did the same. "Simple?" I shook my head. "No. You're a lot of things, but simple isn't one of them."

  "You want it simple?" She held up a single finger. "Okay, one simple question. Did you, or did you not, sleep with Brittney last night?"

  My heart sank.

  Oh shit.

  Chapter 36

  The question hung in the open air. Had I slept with Brittney? Technically, no. I hadn't. But unless I was willing to lie, a simple denial wasn't going to cut it.

  Like a coward, I stalled. "What do you mean?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh c'mon, let's not embarrass either of us by pretending you don’t know exactly what I’m asking."

  I knew. I just didn't have an answer. At least, not a good one.

  Well, Chloe, it's like this. No, I didn't fuck her. But she did have her lips around my cock like five minutes before you showed up.

  Or maybe this one? I was going to fuck her and pretend it was you. But I didn't. So, we're good, right?

  In my head, the answers kept coming. They all sucked. I looked away and blew out a long, unsteady breath. "What do you want me to say?"

  Her voice was quiet. "The truth."

  I knew what Chloe was really asking. Last night, while she'd been doing whatever on her side of the fence, what had I been doing? Hanging out with my so-called friends or getting naked with another girl?

  When it came down to it, there was only one honest answer. "Alright." Unwilling to meet her eyes, I looked down. "Yes."

  I heard a quick intake of breath, and then nothing else. When I looked up, Chloe's eyes were squeezed shut, and she was looking a little unsteady. I wanted to reach out and cradle her against me. I wanted to kiss her forehead and make it all better. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, but I didn't know for what.

  I mean, in spite of my own feelings, Chloe and I had been only friends – by her choice, not mine.

  When she opened her eyes, I tried to find the words. "Chloe—"

  "What about her friend?" Chloe's voice was shaking. "Amber? You sleep with her too?"

  I pushed a hand through my hair. That answer was complicated, too. At this point, it was all complicated.