Styled (Travesty Book 4)

Home > Other > Styled (Travesty Book 4) > Page 18
Styled (Travesty Book 4) Page 18

by Piper Lawson


  “Did you mess with her?”

  The i8 pulled onto the freeway and I came back to my sister’s voice. “What?”

  “I don’t know what shit you say to get girls to sleep with you, but this time you’ve crossed a line.”

  I groaned. “OK. First, who I hang out with is none of your business, and you’ve never cared about it before. Second…No, that’s pretty much it.”

  “It is, because you’re fucking my business. What you and Jordan do affects my business, because she’s supposed to be working. Instead she’s flaking out, screwing up, and forgetting about things.”

  Protectiveness roared up inside me. “Listen to yourself for a second. The girl gave up her life for a month to fly across the country for you and Lex. To work. And that’s what she does, every damned day. So what you’re describing is not possible. If Jordan wants to have fun, she has every right to.”

  “That’s not it, Ethan. Jordan doesn’t have fun.”

  I drummed my fingers impatiently on the wheel as I waited to change lanes. “What are you talking about? She’s a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

  “Oh my God. You don’t know.” The silence on the line had me worried in a way Ava’s harping didn’t.

  “Know what?”

  “If you’ve spent five seconds with Jordan, you will have figured out that nothing seems like a big deal for her. Even the things that really are.”

  “So?”

  “So Jordan was so far ahead on things growing up. She had to grow up fast. But in a lot of ways, she’s innocent.”

  The wheels in my head turned like gears in need of grease.

  One clicked into the next.

  Until…

  Ice formed in my chest, spreading outward to my arms, legs.

  “No. It’s not possible. She dated that asshole for months.”

  “They might’ve done some things, but I’m pretty sure they never had sex. She would’ve told me. Or at least she would’ve told Lex.”

  Everything moved slowly.

  I managed to get off the freeway. But my brain had slowed to the crawling pace of the traffic.

  No way.

  Jordan had stripped her clothes off right along with me in that garage as if it was no big deal.

  “What if it sucks?”

  “It won’t suck.”

  Shit. I’d thought it was just that she was being Jordan. Cool, a little weird, and refreshing as hell.

  Then she’d let me fuck her, hard and a little rough, in Axe’s pool. I remembered the look in her eyes when I made her come on my hands. The feel of her tight body resisting me.

  Jesus…

  What if I’d missed something. The only thing that even mattered.

  If Ava was right, I was the biggest asshole ever.

  “Ethan?” Ava prompted. “Jordan and I don’t always get along but she’s one of us. We need her. Stop fucking with her.”

  “I’m not fucking with her,” I said slowly.

  She paused. “Then what are you doing? In another week and a half she’ll be back in New York.”

  The words echoed in my head. She wasn’t wrong.

  “I have to go.”

  “Ethan, wait—”

  I hit “end” as I pulled up at Jordan’s and bounded in the door after another man.

  Jordan answered the door the second time I knocked. Her eyes looked tired, and she wrapped a sweater around her as she leaned against the doorframe. But her mouth lifted at the corner when she saw me.

  “Hey. I thought I was meeting you at your place later. What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “You want a drink? Your options are…soda.” Jordan backed out of the doorway and turned for the kitchen.

  My gut twisted as I watched her. She was so fucking pretty. Her shoulders under that sweater. Long, slim legs exposed by denim shorts.

  Right on cue, my brain sidetracked, imagining those legs wrapped around my hips.

  Stop it.

  I knew what was under the clothes. What I didn’t know was in her head.

  “How’s the development?” she asked, bending over the fridge.

  “Jordan, I need to ask you something. Can you stop for a second.”

  Jordan did, straightening as she shut the fridge. Her gaze clouded and I forced my hands to release from the fists clenched at my sides. This was harder than I thought.

  “Are you—was I your first?”

  “My first realtor? Yes.”

  The knot in my stomach tightened painfully. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

  I watched the surprise flick over her expression, chased by discomfort. But it was the vulnerability that gutted me.

  The pain in my stomach grew. Became a hole that threatened to pull every part of me inside it.

  “Jesus, Jordan. You’re twenty-four,” I croaked. “How is that even possible?”

  Jordan took a glass from the cupboard and poured herself water from the tap. “I wore pants when all the other girls wore skirts. The logistics are easy, Ethan.”

  “Don’t joke about this. Please. Not right now. You and…Colton. You never…”

  “I never slept with him,” she said finally.

  I struggled for a way to say this without sounding like an even bigger asshole. “How was he cool with that?”

  “The same way any guy is. I said I wasn’t ready. He respected that.” There was a defiance in her quiet voice I admired even as it gutted me. She turned back to me, leaning against the cupboard. “Is this why you came over here? To ask how Colton was ‘cool with it’?”

  “No. Yes.”

  Jordan took a slow sip of her water. “The number of guys I’ve slept with—or haven’t—has nothing to do with us.”

  “But how could you—” my pulse pounded behind my eyes and I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “If you waited with him, I just don’t understand why…why me.”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s not good enough, Jordan. Why would you hold off this long, then throw it away? I’m thirty. I’ve had one serious girlfriend, and when she left I responded with the maturity of a college freshman. I’ve slept with way too many women. And most of them I don’t give a shit about. I’m the opposite of the guy you should want to be with. In any way.” I realized the truth of it as I said it. That fact made everything even worse.

  I wanted to cross to her. To touch her. To…something.

  But I’d done enough to influence her. So I stayed where I was.

  Jordan’s eyes flashed on mine. “Didn’t you say it’s always the things we don’t do that we regret? Well, I don’t regret it, and you shouldn’t regret it either.”

  I shot her a look. “Don’t. Don’t play that card, not right now. I wouldn’t have done this if I’d known.”

  “You wouldn’t have slept with me if you’d known I was a virgin,” she said flatly.

  I frowned. “I’m trying to protect you.”

  She closed the distance between us, setting the glass on the counter. But the warmth in her face when she’d seen me had receded.

  “I never asked you to. If you’d pull your head out of your ass a second you’d realize I didn’t ask you for anything. Now,” she said, taking a breath, “do you want a soda or not?”

  Ava’s words came back to me. That in another week and a half Jordan would be gone. And there’d be no hope in hell of anything.

  I wasn’t upset with Jordan. I was pissed with myself, for ignoring what should’ve been staring me in the face. Now here I was having feelings I had no business feeling for girl who’d come to me for help.

  I couldn’t make up for it. Couldn’t take it back.

  But I could try to fix it. Try to be better than I had been. She deserved that, and more.

  I straightened, forcing my voice to be level. “From here on out, I think we should focus on business. You came to me to find a store. That’s what I’m going to give you.”

  Jordan loo
ked at me like I’d hit her, and I resisted the urge to clench my fists at my sides. “So that’s it, then. You don’t want me.” Her voice scraped like sand over my skin.

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  Jordan stepped into me, her eyes bright on mine. “You know what I think, Ethan? I think you’re trying to protect you. Because you’re not the guy who fucks random girls and doesn’t care. You’re better than that, and that scares you.”

  I sucked in a long breath. Let it out, slower. “What scares me is the idea of hurting you.”

  Some of the light went out of her eyes. “Because you’re Ethan Cameron. You have a harem of brainless dilettantes lining up to worship you. And you try to give them all what they want without breaking too many hearts. Well, you don’t need to worry about mine.”

  With a last heavy look, I turned for the door.

  She didn’t try to stop me.

  27

  Jordan

  They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend.

  That’s a lie. Numbers are a girl’s best friend.

  Numbers don’t fuck you over.

  Numbers don’t tell your secrets.

  Numbers definitely don’t show up at your apartment to take you apart because you didn’t tell them about your sexual history.

  In the two days since Ethan had shown up, I’d thrown myself into an analysis of the possibilities with the LA store. I’d planned out scenarios. If we got the big place, and if we deferred.

  It wasn’t pretty.

  Postponing launching in LA meant all the groundwork we’d laid would have to be re-done next season. The terms on the financing we’d set up would have expired. It made my chest hurt thinking about all the work I’d put in, my friends had put in, going to waste.

  We were out a quarter of our sales if we couldn’t talk some sense into Taylor. I’d gone to see her the day before to ask her to reconsider, but she’d shot me down, scorched earth style. Dahlia had watched sympathetically from behind the cash.

  Still, going forward…there was no good option. I could bankroll the store myself. But it wouldn’t be right. Travesty was a partnership and no one would go for the idea of me solving our problem by writing a check with money that wasn’t really mine. Everything we’d done so far was on equal terms. Equal partners.

  And if we waited a few weeks or months, we’d miss the opportunity to catch the start of the fall season.

  There was only one decision to make. I just didn’t want to accept it.

  We’d have to postpone. For a season, maybe more.

  Which meant this whole trip had been a waste. That reality hurt my heart more than anything.

  I shoved away from my computer, paced the length of my apartment. Today it felt like a glass cage.

  Lex and Ava and I hadn’t talked again since the other day, except through work emails. I didn’t know what to say to Ava, about Travesty or the fact that she’d outed me to Ethan.

  Not that it mattered. It was Lex I didn’t want to let down. She’d given me a shot with this company, her company. It’d saved me when I hadn’t known I’d needed it. When I’d needed a chance, and friendship. Needed to get away from my dad’s business, from being sucked into it and ending up in some corner office selling shit I didn’t care about.

  The reality was, I’d let myself lose focus these last few days. Weeks. I’d gotten one hit of the highly addictive substance that was Ethan Cameron and lost my mind.

  Knowing that didn’t take away the pain of feeling like I’d discovered something real only to have it ripped away.

  But I’d seen something in Ethan’s deep blue eyes when he’d come over. Like maybe his dumb male ego rant was masking something else. Like he was hurt that I hadn’t told him.

  When do you tell someone that? In the hotel room when he’s kissing you? On the back of the bike?

  Warning,V-card ahead.

  I’d done enough with Colt—and solo—to be pretty sure there wouldn’t be physical signs. When you’re twenty-four, it’s easier to let a guy keep assuming what it’s entirely reasonable to assume.

  I guess I’d always figured I’d lose it to Colt, eventually. Not like there was anyone to talk to about that shit growing up. My dad…no. Lex and Ava would be happy to, but it felt beyond weird.

  It had been a non-issue, since no guy had every gotten me remotely close to losing my head.

  But since the time I’d kissed Ethan, drunk and a little crazy, everything had happened so fast.

  And it’d felt so damn good.

  That first time in his garage had been terrifying. But being with him made me feel alive, and wanted, and needed. Even when I didn’t trust myself to know what to do, I trusted him.

  I’m not deluded enough to believe a girl’s got to wait for Prince Charming. I wasn’t looking for promises. Ethan’s not the guy you walk down the aisle with while people in hats throw rice.

  For a moment, though, I’d wanted to pretend that he was.

  I rubbed my eyes, tired from two nights of not sleeping. I wish I could chalk it all up to work but the thing was, it wasn’t.

  I picked up my phone and flicked through my texts. Nothing from Ethan since he’d texted about the offer on Axe’s house.

  Aside from the endless introspection and rehashing of our conversation, the reality was I fucking missed him. I missed his grin. I missed the way he’d look at me out of the corner of his eye, like he was imagining me naked.

  It was those moments I felt like I couldn’t hide from him, and I didn’t want to.

  With Colt the deal breaker had never been that I couldn’t go through with the act. I had no doubt I could’ve switched off my brain, pull back into myself the way I always did when the world was pissing me off.

  But why the hell would I.

  I hadn’t wanted to let him in more than I already had. Never felt that craving to be closer, to show more of myself than I did when I was around Ethan.

  Even though Ethan and I might never be anything, and even after our argument, I still didn’t regret it.

  I didn’t regret him.

  I clicked through my Travesty email. I’d done everything I could for the day. And I sent the recommendation for Lex and Ava that we defer until next season.

  My personal email had been neglected since going full-tilt back into Travesty these past two days. I opened it on impulse, and one email address caught my attention.

  Evergreen.

  I scanned the first two lines, my heart icing in my chest.

  I hit a number on my contacts without reading the rest. It didn’t matter that it was nearly ten o’clock East Coast time. I didn’t care, and the person I was calling wouldn’t either.

  “Brit. It’s Jordan. I just got your email. What is going on?”

  I heard her say “It’s a friend. I’m taking the call out here.” She’d be with her husband, her kids would be in bed. Her strained voice came down the line a moment later. “Evergreen’s closing. Everyone’s panicking. “

  It’s not possible. They’ve just done a round of layoffs to prevent this.

  “What did the execs say?” As a manager, Brit would be more in the know than most. We’d worked side by side for almost a year.

  “They wouldn’t deny it.” She paused. “Two hundred people will lose their jobs if this place closes. Tracey. Alain. All of them. Theo and his wife just had another baby. Forget their jobs, they’ll lose their house. All they’ve done their damn lives is this industry. They know furniture, they don’t know anything else. I hate to ask this—”

  “Brit…”

  “Jordan, we’re desperate. Is there anything you can do?”

  I wanted to melt down. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  I pressed a hand to my forehead. Then I dialed a number I really didn’t want to.

  He answered on the second ring. “Jordan. I’m surprised to be hearing from you.”

  “Is Evergreen closing?”

  “Jordan—” I heard shuffling in the b
ackground before Colt came back on. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “I know it’s late. Just like I know you’re working.”

  “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

  “Why, because I’m on the outside?”

  “You made it that way.”

  I knew he was trying to hurt me, and his words hit the mark. My chest ached for the people of that company. The ones I’d let down.

  I rested my forehead against the wall of windows, leaning in. I was tired of blaming people. Me, him. I just wanted it fixed.

  “Colt, I never told my father you lied to him. I did that for you. I need you to do this for me now. Please.”

  “Jordan…” He sounded tired all of a sudden. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Don’t let these people lose their jobs.” I listened to him breathe down the line.

  “The reason you didn’t tell your dad is because you know it was the right call, even if I went about it the wrong way. And the reason you won’t tell him is because as tough as you think you are, you’re not the vengeful kind.” He paused. “It’s too late to get those jobs back. Goodnight Jordan.”

  He clicked off.

  I stared through the window, unseeing. Everything was falling to pieces. Every damned thing I touched turned to shit.

  My dad told me once that he was proud of my strength. It was after my mom died, when he’d sent me off to boarding school for the first time. I hadn’t protested, and when he’d asked me after the first term how things were going, I’d told him “fine.”

  It’d been fine that the teachers gave me special treatment because of my dad.

  That when I didn’t know anything about makeup—because my mom had died before she could show me—all the girls had frozen me out.

  That when I was old enough, the guys made bets over who would nail me. That when no one succeeded, they started calling me names.

  The truth was I wasn’t strong. Not at all. Everything I pretended not to mind actually did get to me, accumulating under the surface like a rash.

  But I’d seen what my dad was living through and I hadn’t wanted to add to his heartbreak.

  So I’d hid my pain. Covered the scars. Made sure no one saw me break.

  I felt my chest heave, ugly sobs wracking my chest. Tears streamed down my face, covering my arms until the colors and lights were streaks and blobs.

 

‹ Prev