by Lola StVil
“I’m going to get a drink,” I shout.
She nods and follows me off the dance floor. I pour myself a vodka and Coke, and Casey chooses a bottle of something bright blue that looks toxic. We move away from the dance floor and find a small couch. We sprawl onto it, laughing.
“My feet are killing me,” Casey says. She slips one of her shoes off and begins massaging the balls of her feet, then grins at me. “So how’s the obsession with the murderer going?”
“It’s not an obsession. And he’s not a murderer,” I say.
Belinda plonks herself down on the arm of the couch. “Who’s not a murderer?” she asks.
“Ava has a crush on Rex Holden.” Casey grins.
Belinda snorts. “Fucking hell, Ava, you sure do pick them, don’t you?”
“He’s not a murderer,” I insist. “I Googled him and there’s no mention of it. And besides, do you really think my dad wouldn’t have looked into him before he employed him?”
“Sure he would. But he wouldn’t have found anything,” Belinda says mysteriously.
I tell myself to ignore her, but I take the bait. “Why not?”
Belinda grins, clearly in her element now she’s been asked for some hot gossip.
“It was all hushed up, wasn’t it? He was having an affair with a rich married woman. An older woman, from what I hear. Her husband caught them, and he killed him. The woman had kids and didn’t want the details to get out, so she paid an obscene amount of her dead husband’s money to bribe the judge into ordering a sealed case. No one is allowed to report on it, and no one would because word is she’s a powerful woman who you just don’t mess with.”
“Right,” I say. “And you believe that?”
“No smoke without fire, Ava.”
“You’ve been reading too many conspiracy theories, Bee. Next you’ll be saying the earth is flat and the moon landings were faked.”
“Believe what you want to believe, but he seems to have a pattern, doesn’t he? Rich women. Watch yourself, Ava—you might be next on his hit list.” Belinda grins then gets up and moves away.
“Fucking drama queen,” Casey says. “You should be careful, though. Especially now your dad’s out of town and you’re in that big old house all alone.”
I don’t get to respond, as her boyfriend Jason and his friend Matt have come over.
“You should make use of an empty house, Ava,” Jason says, looking pointedly at Matt, who blushes. Jason laughs and turns his attention to Casey. “Let’s go dance.”
She slips her foot back into her shoe, takes his hand, and follows him back out to the dance floor. Matt takes her place beside me.
“It’s good to see you again, Ava,” he says. “It’s been so long since you were last home. Christmas, wasn’t it?”
I nod, although it wasn’t. I have no interest in Matt. I never did, even before Rex came onto the scene. Although Matt is never pushy, the fact he’s into me is always hanging over me, and it makes me uncomfortable, so I try my best to avoid him.
I listen to him drone on about his Easter break for a while, but it’s hard to focus on his words. He’s such a bore. He’s all about the money, and he quite fancies himself as an entrepreneur. I don’t have the heart to tell him it doesn’t count when Daddy’s money bought him the business and his advisors pretty much run it.
Instead, I think of Rex. Could what Casey and Belinda said be true? I mean, there’s no denying he’s strong enough to kill a man. There’s no denying he has an air of mystery and danger about him. But no, I refuse to believe it.
I don’t care about the circumstances—there’s no way my dad wouldn’t have been able to get through a wall of silence and find out enough to send Rex packing if there was even the slightest possibility it was true. As if he could do time without it getting out.
I stand up abruptly, and Matt looks at me in surprise. I realize he was still talking. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I just need some air.”
I go outside for a moment, more to shake Matt off than because I really need some air. I wander back in after a few minutes and spot some girls I know. I spend the next few hours circulating in the room, catching up with old friends, and a few frenemies too.
Around midnight, the party starts to wind down as curfews begin to kick in. I look around for Casey, but I can’t spot her anywhere. I spot Matt standing at the edge of the dance floor and swallow my pride and go over to him. He smiles at me as I approach him.
“Hey. Have you seen Casey? She’s my ride,” I say.
“She left, Ava. She thought you’d gone,” he says.
Dammit. I’ll have to call a cab.
“I’m leaving myself now. You’re not far from me. I’ll give you a ride if you like,” Matt says.
I debate it. Will he think it means something?
“Fuck, Ava, I’m offering you a ride home, that’s all. Forget it.”
He starts to walk away, and I curse myself. I’m being an idiot.
“Matt, wait,” I shout.
He turns back, and I go to his side.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to work out how far out of your way I am, whether it’s a total imposition or not,” I say with what I hope is a charming smile.
It seems to work. Matt grins back at me. “I wouldn’t have offered if it was an issue. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
We go to say our goodbyes to Belinda, who gives me a knowing smile.
“See, it’s not hard to find someone more in your circle,” she whispers.
I give her a tight smile, not willing to explain myself to her. Bitch.
I follow Matt to his car, and we get in. He pulls away and heads toward civilization. We haven’t gone far when he pulls off the main road.
“Where are we going?” I ask, suddenly alarmed.
“Relax, Ava. I’m not going to murder you and dump your body in a ditch,” he says. He pulls the car into a layby. “I just thought we could maybe have some fun. End the night on a high, so to speak.”
He unclicks his seatbelt and then mine and leans closer to me.
“Don’t,” I say.
He doesn’t move away. He’s crowding into my seat. I press myself against the door, trying to put some distance between us.
“Oh, come on, lighten up. It’s just for fun. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Aren’t you supposed to be one of those girls who is up for a good time?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I sleep around. It means I enjoy a good party.”
He moves back into his own seat, and I relax again. He’s taking the hint. Or, at least, I think he is—until he opens his glove compartment and pulls out a condom.
“Party on, baby,” he says, holding it up like a trophy.
He lunges toward me, and I shrink back.
“Matt, stop it,” I say.
He doesn’t. He presses his mouth against mine, and I turn my head to the side. He reaches down, and I react without thinking. I punch him hard in the jaw. He recoils, and I see anger burning in his eyes. I reach for the door handle.
“Fucking cock teaser,” he says as I open the door.
That pisses me off, and I turn back. “I didn’t do a thing to lead you on.”
He grabs me by the arm and pulls me back toward him. He grabs one of my breasts. I try to pull his hand away, but he’s too strong. I dig my nails in his hand and scratch him. He pulls away from me with a disgusted cry as blood wells up on his hand.
“You’re a fucking animal,” he shouts as I jump out of the car.
I slam the door shut behind me. He rolls the window down.
“You know something, Ava? You’re nothing but a stuck-up, frigid little cunt who thinks she’s too good for the rest of the world. Fuck you.”
He pulls away, the tires screeching. I am shaking, and tears stream down my face. Did I do something to make him think I was up for it? Surely accepting a ride didn’t make him think he could have sex with me?
I don’t have any of the answers. All I know is
I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere. I should have just called a cab in the first place. I sigh and go for my purse. Fuck. I left it in the car. I have no money, no cell phone, and no idea where I am.
I head back for the main road and start walking in what I hope is the right direction. I shrink back every time I hear a car pass me. I can’t leave myself open to something like that happening again.
I’ve been walking for over an hour when I see an open gas station, and relief floods me. Surely they’ll have a phone I can use to call a cab.
I quicken my pace, spurred on by the lights. I’m carrying my shoes now, and I know my feet are cut. I must look a mess, mascara stains all down my face. I reach the gas station and go inside. The woman behind the counter glances up from a magazine as I enter. She does a double take when she sees me.
“Oh my God, are you all right? What happened?” she exclaims.
I open my mouth to tell her I’m fine; I just need to use a phone. Instead, I am horrified when tears pour down my face again.
“I just want to go home.” I sniffle.
She comes around the counter and puts her arm around my shoulder. She leads me behind the counter and sits me on her stool.
“Did someone hurt you? I’ll call 911,” she says, reaching for the wall phone.
“No,” I say, getting myself back under control.
The last thing I want is to relive this and have to tell the police what happened. Plus, I’m clearly drunk, and I’m underage. My dad would never live this down if it got out that he left town and his daughter did this.
“Really. I’m all right. I just need to call a cab. Can I please use your phone?”
The woman looks at me uncertainly, and then she nods and hands the receiver to me. I realize I don’t know any numbers, and the woman gives me a card with a cab number on it. I dial the number and wait.
“Hello. Summerby’s Cabs,” a man says.
“Hi. I need a cab, please,” I say.
The woman gives me the name of the gas station, and I tell the cab operator.
“We’ll need your card details,” he says.
“What? Why?” I say.
“Cabbies won’t come out that far without a guarantee of payment,” he says.
“Please,” I say. “I don’t have my card on me. I … I lost my purse. My name is Ava Walsh. My father is Maxwell Walsh. Your driver will be paid. Hell, I’ll pay him twice the fare. Please. I just need to get home.”
“Miss, I don’t care if your father is Santa Claus. If you can’t pay, we don’t come out. That simple.”
He hangs up, but not before I hear him muttering about “entitled fucking brats.” I hold the receiver, looking at it stupidly as the dial tone sounds.
“He’s an asshole,” I say without thinking.
The woman nods and gives me a half-smile. I have no idea what to do now. I can’t call Casey. I don’t know her number off the top of my head. I know my dad’s number. I could call him and have him pay the advance fare on a cab, but how can I do that to him knowing he’d drop everything and be on the next flight home to make sure I’m okay?
“Listen, hon,” the woman says. “I don’t know your story, but you need to call your parents.”
“I can’t. My mom’s dead and my dad’s out of town,” I say.
She winces. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug. I don’t need her pity. I need a plan.
“Look, I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me to call the cops, but I can’t let you go back out there alone. No cab company is going to come out here at this time of night without a deposit. I’m going to have to call—”
“No,” I say. “I know who I can call.”
My dad likes his employees to have a cell phone so that he can reach them at any time. I know those numbers. They start the same as his work line. His ends in double zero one, his PIs are double zero two and three, and his driver is double zero four. I can’t call any of them. They’d report back.
But there’s one person I can try whom I might be able to persuade to not run to my dad. Double zero five. Rex.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
REX
I jump awake, not sure what has startled me. I realize it’s my cell phone. The one Max gave me. I glance at the clock. It’s almost two a.m., and I debate not answering it. I mean, it must be a wrong number. Who needs to talk to their mechanic at this time of the night? I glance at the screen. It’s not Max. It’s a local number.
I put it back down, and it stops ringing, but almost immediately, it starts up again. It must be important. Someone could have found their way onto Max’s property and damaged one of the cars or something, and it could be the police or one of Max’s people. He did make it clear to me when I took the job that I was to be available to take his calls any time of the day or night.
I make my decision.
“Hello,” I mumble.
“Hey there, handsome,” a girl says, followed by a giggle.
It’s Ava, and she’s clearly drunk. I feel a surge of anger go through me. Her games are going too far now.
“How did you get this number?” I demand.
“Well, duh, it’s my dad’s cell phone,” she says.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Ava, calling me in the middle of the night?” I snap.
She giggles again.
“I’m hanging up now. Don’t call me again.”
“Wait. Please, don’t hang up,” she says.
The giggles have gone from her voice, and with horror, I realize she’s crying. She was using the giggles to cover it up, but now I can hear the shaky tone in her voice.
“What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
I’m already halfway out of bed. The thought of someone hurting her … I don’t know what I’ll do when I find whoever has hurt her, but I wouldn’t like to be that guy.
“I’m not hurt,” she says quickly, and I calm down a notch. “I’ve lost my purse, and I’m out in the middle of nowhere somewhere. I just need a ride home. Please, Rex.”
“Where are you?” I say.
She gives me the address, and I tell her it’s not far from me, and I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I hang up and then throw on yesterday’s jeans and t-shirt from my bedroom floor. I rush out to my car.
If this turns out to be another one of her games, there’s gonna be hell to pay. But the way she sounded on the phone tells me it’s more than that. And God fucking help the son of a bitch that made my girl cry like that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AVA
By the time Rex arrives, I’ve managed to calm down. The woman in the gas station, who has told me her name is Rachel, made me a strong cup of coffee to help sober me up.
Maybe I overreacted.
Matt was just dipping his toes in to see if I was into it. I must’ve given him some sort of signal, and then when I pushed him away, of course he was angry.
God, I’m such a fuck-up.
And now Rex is here and I feel so damn stupid. He gets out of the car, and I’m reminded how hot he actually is and how much I want to be in his arms. No one would dare touch me again if I was his.
He hurries into the gas station. I stand up as he flings the door open and comes in.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Rachel asks me.
I nod. “Yes. Thank you for letting me use your phone. And for the coffee.”
“Anytime,” she says.
She shoots a doubtful glance at Rex. Does she think I’m jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire? I wait for Rex to tell her to fuck off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles at her, and that dark stare warms up, making him look a lot less daunting.
“Thank for looking out for her,” he says. “I work for her father, and I’ll see she gets home all right.”
Rachel nods, the worried look disappearing from her face. Rex opens the door and gestures for me to leave the store. As I walk to the passenger side of his car, it occurs to me that he’s going to want to know wh
at happened. He didn’t push me for details over the phone, but he as sure as hell will now, and I don’t want him to think I’m just some dumb kid who fucks things up all the time. By the time we’re both in the car and Rex starts the engine, I know exactly how to play this.
“Ready to tell me what happened?” he asks.
“I lost my purse.” I shrug.
I pull down the mirror above my seat and try to do something with my makeup. It’s not easy with nothing to work with, but I manage to get the thick mascara streaks off my face, which I guess is better than nothing.
Nice going, Ava, calling the one guy you actually like when you look like a fucking scarecrow.
“And?” Rex prompts, glancing at me.
I give him a flirty smile. “And I wanted to see you, so I came down here on purpose to call you to my rescue, and here you are.”
I watch him as I say it and see a flash of glowering anger. He looks at me again and sees a small bruise on my arm. I must have gotten it from that asshole. Once Rex sees that, the anger melts from his face. He doesn’t believe my story, that much is clear, but luckily for me, he doesn’t press me to say more.
He turns off the main road.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
It’s like a repeat of earlier, only this time, I feel perfectly safe.
“My place,” Rex says.
“I … I just want to go home,” I say quietly.
“Relax, Ava. I’m not abducting you. You lost your purse, and believe it or not, your father doesn’t hand out his house keys to his mechanic.”
He smiles as he says it, and I get a flash of the man he could be if he wasn’t trying to keep me at arm’s length.
“There’s a spare key in a lockbox beside the front door,” I say.
He nods and pulls what I’m pretty sure is an illegal U-turn, but the roads are deserted.
“My mom was always the one who made sure everyone had keys and such with them as they left the house. When she died, my dad installed the lockbox so we were never stuck. I didn’t think it was necessary. I guess I was wrong. The code is our door number. I mean, it’s like he wants us get robbed.”
