by Marie Wathen
“Yeah, about that,” He shrugs while a blush creeps over his cheeks. “I was scared to death. It was actually Wren who saved us when she forced me off that damn stage after I froze in place hearing the gunshots. If it wasn't for her I'd probably be lying in a hospital bed too.” I shake my head at the thought of more friends and family being in this hospital or worse. Bates continues, “We talked for a little while when I dropped her off at her hotel. Wren's a really nice girl Breesan.” He says, blushing again just saying her name and quickly adds, “You know I think I am going to head out and maybe grab a shower too. I'll see you girls later.”
We watch as Bates practically runs out of the waiting room and then Anna burst into a fit of laughter.
“Oh girl, Bates has a crush on your cousin. I've never seen him so thrown by a girl. He's such a player but he actually blushed. You saw that, tell me you saw his face turn red when he talked about her?” Anna asks excitedly.
“I'm not sure.” Uncertain of what he intended for us to know, I play it off. “Maybe Bates isn’t feeling well or perhaps he is just tired.”
“Uh no!” With her hands on her hips, Anna begins her argument. “That boy likes Wren. Now, what are we going to do about it?”
I can't believe she's playing match maker at a time like this. Yes I can, I remind myself that this is typical Anna’s response to anything that is too emotionally heavy. When facing pain Anna always blocks it out or distracts herself from it with other activities. Looks like Bates and Wren will be her new distraction.
“Anna, how about, no? Let's just get you home and then maybe when we have all had some rest we can discuss you playing cupid,” I say.
I tug on her arm but she remains rooted. Glancing at her to see why she isn’t moving, I see that she isn’t being defiant and fighting against me. Anna is completely frozen in place. Turning my head in the direction of her transfixed eyes, I notice someone push through the double doors at the end of the hallway.
“What is it Anna?” I ask.
She blinks then stammers, “It's uh…” Turning to face me, Anna whispers, “Breesan, here comes Elise.”
An incredibly beautiful woman with long curly red hair and a perfect body saunters her way toward us. She's wearing an expensive looking, off white silk top and a pale blue skirt with matching heels that are probably just as overpriced. Elise walks with absolute purpose and a complete confidence that screams “I am a force to be reckoned with.”
As she continues to come closer it dawns on me that I recognize her. This is the woman that was with Marcus that horrible night at Club Toxic. My body stiffens when she makes eye contact with me. From the bitter hatred glare she tosses at me, she clearly remembers me too. I see Waverly in my peripheral, walking in my direction. She walks behind me, around to the other side of Anna and leans in, whispering to Anna. Anna nods, agreeing wordlessly with whatever she says. The three of us stare along with everyone else in the hallway as Elise continues our way. She stops a few feet away from us and with a disrespectful tone, she interrupts the extremely busy nurse.
“I said, excuse me.”
Turning around, the nurse rolls her eyes at Elise, looks her up and down then props one hand on her hip and says, “Yes?” She throws in a neck roll, finishing off her display of being disgusted by Elise’s interruption. Anna, Waverly and I choke on our laughter when Elise briefly cuts her eyes at us, but continues demanding the nurse’s attention.
“The Walker family, I am here with the Walker family. Please let them know,” Raising an eyebrow to the ceiling, she adds, “Elise Carrington is here.” Just as I remember, her attitude exudes bitch.
“Tell them yourself.” The nurse points to the open waiting room, indicating toward Gran and Haleigh Walker, Marcus' mother.
Elise spins on her heels and stomps toward the Walker women. Rising quickly out of her seat when she notices Elise, Haleigh seems excited to see her. I can't imagine one thing about Elise that would make a mother happy to see such a nasty woman.
“Darling Elise, you didn't have to come all the way down here. You look exquisite. This shade of blue is the perfect color for your glowing skin tone.” Haleigh is kissing her ass as if she is royalty and my skin begins to crawl, watching this shameless display.
“I most certainly did have to come down here.” Her thick French inflection grates on my nerves. “I had a lunch date with my future fiancé and he failed to show. I thought he might be here with you, but I do not see him.” Elise cranes her neck, glancing around the waiting room.
“Oh dear,” Haleigh blushes, “I'm not sure where he is actually. He hasn't made it to the hospital either. Oh, but you know how my son can be. He will turn up with the perfect excuse.”
Haleigh's words cause my heart rate to increase rapidly. I swallow hard then turn to Anna to get clarification, praying that she isn’t talking about Marcus.
“You heard that right?” I ask. “Elise said she was here looking for her future fiancé, followed by Haleigh saying her son hasn't shown up. Does she mean Morgan or…Marcus?” Let there be a third Walker that Haleigh is referring to, please, I beg God. The feeling in my stomach is revolting nausea while my mind screams wildly that Elise is a lying bitch, but I wait for Anna’s answer before I lose it completely.
“I heard, but I don't know what the heck Elise is talking about.”
“What are you going on about, Haleigh?” Gran asks, approaching the two women.
“Aileen, I apologize for being rude. This is Elise Carrington, Ned’s daughter and my future daughter in law.” Haleigh answers Gran’s question proudly. Beaming a dazzling, white smile at Elise she says, “Elise, this is my mother-in-law, Aileen Walker.”
Morgan couldn't possibly be engaged to her. He kissed me last night, and what about Waverly? I turn my head and see the growing concern in Waverly’s face, too. I won't lie; I really need to know which Walker Casanova is leading on at least one woman in this room. I rub my hand down the front of my thighs to remove some of the sweat collecting rapidly following the bitch’s arrival. Gran moves around Haleigh to stand at the side of both women, all while staring holes into Elise. Elise’s expression is complete indifference.
Gran grunts softly, followed by a tone more snarky than I’ve ever heard from this sweet woman, “We've met.” She gives Elise a displeased look then turns her attention toward Haleigh and makes another very unladylike grunt. “Future daughter in law, you say. What boy asked her to be his wife?” Gran asks defiantly.
Anna grips my clammy hand in hers in anticipation of the name that I do not want to hear at this precise moment.
Haleigh's haughty attitude, like she is better than anyone and no one should question her actions, infused with her bitter laugh saturates her response, as she says, “Morgan will of course.”
Will? My mind finally processes her statement. Morgan hasn't asked yet, but obviously Haleigh and Elise anticipate it, and soon apparently. From the corner of my eye, I notice Anna reaching a hand out for Waverly, but Haleigh's answer to Gran’s question comes so fast and tasteless that we are all in shock. Anna sluggishly comes out of her haze too slow to get to her before Waverly is walking away quickly, rushing toward the elevators. Anna races after her. Watching the scene unfold in front of me like a bad horror movie, I shake my head at how ridiculous Haleigh and Elise sound. Marcus’ mother is nothing like him. Haleigh Walker is pretentious, fake and I bet there is an ulterior motive, other than wanting her son to marry someone just like her, for this potential engagement to Elise.
What is wrong with these women? Are their superior attitudes accepted so easily? As their conversation continues, Haleigh and Elise look at Gran with sheer hatefulness. I squeeze my fist tight and suddenly find that I want to deck both of them. Leaving now before I do something illegal would be a good idea, I think.
Before walking away, I watch them another moment and two things happen. I thank god above that my Marcus is not marrying that terrible woman and then I send up a silent prayer for Morgan, if
he does end up with Elise. Down the long corridor, I spot Anna jogging to catch Waverly. I walk slower giving Anna time to catch up and console her. This is really more her thing than mine. I don't deal well with heavy emotions. After what I just went through with Tristan and Anna, I probably will break down. I think I will just let Anna handle this one alone since they are pretty close friends.
Knowing their relationship history now, it is obvious by Waverly's reaction that she really does have deep feelings for Morgan. Although I have recently noticed that the drug attack has slightly impaired my ability to detect honesty, I sensed that Morgan may feel the same way about her. Yesterday, when we were on the beach he told me that they are over, but I felt then that he was only saying what he thought I needed to hear.
Walking like a mummy as I sort through all of this new bullshit, I take the elevator down to the main level and cross through the covered crosswalk. I am so deep in thought, the steady pouring rain and cooler temps barely phase me. I spot the stairwell and decide against risking another incident of scaring the shit out of myself, like what happened the night Marcus was assaulted, and take the elevator up. That reminds me of Tristan and my heart clenches with pain while my mind swirls with dozens of thoughts and questions.
I need for Tristan to get better. I have a lot of making up to do with Anna and him. What if I don't get the chance? Someone shot him. If Tristan’s shooting has anything to do with the crazy ass text message I got almost immediately afterward, it very well could have been intentional. Marcus needs to know. I want to tell Marcus about it and the other text messages, but I'm afraid he may think I'm being ridiculous. What is the correlation of some random text messages sent to me and a shooting at the Walker Mansion? There isn’t any. It just doesn't make sense. Maybe if I tell Marcus he will have an idea about how to link them together. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I begin to tremble slightly, feeling the threat of darkness taunting me back. I click on the text message app and open the unknown caller’s text. The tremors begin building deep within my body again as I reread it.
UNKNOWN CALLER: HE'S NOT DEAD - YET!!!!
Mygod, last night when I read that message I thought I was going to die. Initially thinking that it meant Tristan wasn't dead, I had never felt so much physical pain in my life. It was as if someone reached through my chest and pulled my heart out. Sure Tristan has been a pain in my ass on more than one occasion, like a pesky little brother, but I really do love him. Because of all the good that is inside him, I have overlooked all the other bullshit. I have a million questions and as fast as they come I can't sort through them all to reach a conclusion. Nothing about this stupid text adds up. I hope I can get my answers.
Chapter Seven
Morgan
Dirty Deeds blares from an iPod lying on the mini-bar in the dull candlelit room, cigarette smoke and sex fills my nose and mouth, and every muscle in my body cries out in protest of the late night activities in her bed. As long as it is just my body and not my heart feeling the pain, I can bear it. This pain helps numb the acute ache she leaves in my soul. Mygod Waverly, I told you to hate and I really need you to despise me, but why can't I fucking forget you?
Rolling over I sigh seeing the sexy little babe I met in the bar last night lying naked curled up next to me. Through my alcohol induced haze, I try to remember back to the events of last night. Vaguely I recall her lips on my body and my hands exploring hers, but did we have sex? Seeing fresh lip marks along her neck and back, I accept that we did accomplish my desire to have sex with her fill the void in my head where the alcohol couldn't reach. She lies on her stomach facing me and I allow my gaze to drift over her, seeing that she is exceedingly beautiful. Frowning, I wonder if I enjoyed having sex with her. With Waverly it was always absolutely mind blowing.
Groaning at my fucking wayward thoughts continuing to return to Waverly, I forcefully rake my hand up my face and through my hair. There was a reason why I chose her last night and it was in hopes that she would distract me from the all consuming guilt I feel for how badly I treated Waverly the last time we were together. I am such a dick. How could I say those things to her and cruelly stand there as she...shit, just forget her and think about last night.
Dammit if I can remember much about it though. Sighing again, I realize I didn't even ask this sexy woman her name, or maybe I did, but I can't fucking remember much after leaving the bar. However, there is something strangely familiar about her. Have we met before last night? Sorting through dozens of faces that I have met recently, an odd sensation runs through my mind. Uncertain if it is her looks that remind me of someone or if we have actually met, I get the feeling hooking up with her last night may have been a really bad idea.
Checking my watch and seeing it is after two o’clock in the afternoon, I scoot off the edge of the bed, quickly locating my clothes. A small packet falls out of a pocket and I stare at it completely shocked. Oh fuck, I didn’t use a condom! Suddenly on a mission to leave I rush through dressing. Reaching for the motel room door I hear a raspy whisper.
“Morgan?” Turning my head, I see her propped on her arms, smirking at me. “Are you running away already?”
Annoyance at her knowing my name suddenly pisses me the hell off. I release the death grip on the door handle and turn around. I stab her with an icy glare when I answer, returning her sarcastic attitude.
“Yeah, thanks for last night.” Pausing, I smirk and add, “I don't think I caught your name.”
Grinning, she shakes her head and rolls onto her side, reaching for a cigarette lying on the night stand. She lights it then blows out a long smoke stream before glancing back at me.
“Listen Morgan, I get it. You don't need to play games with me. I didn't ask your name, you gave it to me. You didn't ask mine and I didn't give it. So there's nothing tying you to me and I prefer it that way.”
“Damn. You're right on all accounts,” I nod, narrowing my eyes on her. “Except that, I don't remember giving you my name. Have we met before last night?”
Watching her smirk deepen as she shakes her head slowly, I am beginning to dislike her smile.
“Before last night, you never knew I existed.”
“Evasive and still not answering my questions,” I grunt. “Didn't you just say some bullshit about me playing games?”
“Touché,” she sighs. “You were running out of here two minutes ago not needing any answers. Once you're on the other side of that door it won't matter who I am or why I'm here. So just stick to your plans, and just go. It's best for the both of us.”
Breathing in another long draw of smoke, she turns away flicking ash off and I see her face shift to what resembles sadness.
Dammit.
Getting caught running away makes me feel like an ass now. What we did last night in her motel room doesn't mean shit. She is not the first one-night stand I've had and she most certainly will not be the last. But still. Looking at her being so fucking casual about it irritates the hell out of me.
“I'm sure this won't come as a surprise to you, but I don't stick around the morning after. I'm not looking for anything more than what we did last night. If that is where you thought this was going I should have made myself clearer. When I said I wouldn't quit kissing you till the morning that is exactly what I meant. Sunrise is where this ends.”
Narrowing her eyes at me she clutches her hand around her stomach and explodes with a booming laughter, irritating me even more. Slipping out of the bed she pads over to the bar, pours a shot of Bacardi and downs it. Turning around, she looks at me while trying to stifle another chuckle.
“Morgan, you're cute,” she gestures with her shot glass toward me, salutes and then tips it back. “But I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I don't need you to stick around. I already told you to leave. I'm not fragile and I won't lose my shit the moment you close that door behind you. Really, just go.”
My agitated state rises to anger, forcing me to get to the bottom of her flippant attitude. “D
o you always have sex with random men? Because last night at the bar, you came across as a flirt virgin, but I'm guessing now that it was just a well rehearsed show, for my benefit.” Smirking at my callous attitude toward her, I know what I'm saying is just shitty, but I don't give a damn now.
“Perhaps,” is all she says, as she yanks a tee-shirt over her head before slipping into a pair of snug jeans.
“Great.” I say sarcastically, blowing out a frustrated breath, I am momentarily entranced observing her lithe movements before tossing out one more insult.
“Do I leave the cash on the nightstand, or was last night’s fuck on the house?”
Laying a hand across her chest, she winks at me. “Ouch, that was completely uncalled for. Are you trying to hurt me?” Taking a breath, she continues while dressing quickly, “You'll have to do better than that lame ass reference of me being a prostitute. Trust me I've been called worse by better men.”
“This is bullshit,” I say angrily. Turning away quickly, I reach for the door when a thunderous banging startles me. “What the fuck?”
Hearing her gasp from the noise, I jerk my head around looking over my shoulder and spot her shoving a handgun into the back waistband of her jeans. Frozen in place, my heart rate spikes as my eyes grow wide. What the fuck? I repeat internally.
“Open the goddamn door Candy!” A boisterous male voice bellows from the other side of the door, bowing from the force of the heavy blows.
“Be quiet and do not open that door.” Candy whispers, placing her finger over her lips.
“Who the hell is that?” I whisper back, moving toward her with my eyes still locked on the door.
Shoving her shit into a large purse quickly, she scans the room before rushing to the window and jerking it open. Leaning out Candy looks both ways and then turns back to me.
“You don't want to be in here when he busts that door down.” Throwing her purse out the window first, she slips both legs through while holding the frame with both hands. She glances back over her shoulder at me before jumping. “Let's go.” Gulping down my adrenaline rush, I run over and see that she landed safely and is waving me out.
