“Eh.” He shrugged. “This was probably a mistake, Annabelle.” He gave me a sheepish smile. “This club, I mean. I…I used to come here with her. Phoebe. Johnny would get us into the VIP section.” He laughed bitterly. “I thought I was hot shit, you know? Showing off, how well connected I was. Lot of good that did me.”
“Why didn’t you say?” I asked, aghast. “We didn’t have to come here.”
He shrugged again. “I thought it was important to see. Emma has been going on about art deco for weeks—this place is the closest I could think of to what she was describing.”
“Well, I appreciate your dedication to the plans,” I told him, patting his arm. “But next time, it’s fine to skip out on visiting places you took your ex-fiancée, okay?”
He chuckled a little. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Just then Lucy and Etta returned to once again beg the guys to come dance. “You should go,” I said impulsively, wanting to cheer him up. “It might make you feel better.”
“It might?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Come on, when else do you get the chance to dance with two beautiful twenty-somethings? Might be good for the old ego.”
He grinned at me. “It just might. But it might be even better to dance with an intelligent, sophisticated thirty-year-old that always knows the right thing to say to cheer up a whiney old bastard like me.”
I did my best not to wince—it was better to be called intelligent and sophisticated than beautiful, right?—as he grinned at me and offered me his arm with a flourish. I took it—even though I was feeling the effects of the gin and not really in the mood for dancing—and followed him out to the dance floor. I saw that Rick had also relented at last and had joined Etta and Lucy on the floor. Both of them were laughing and clapping at his capitulation, trying to casually get as close to him as possible without full out throwing themselves onto him.
Jim turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer—so good, in fact, that I managed to forget about Rick and the girls only a few feet away. He also had a knack for pointing out the wholly ridiculous moves of many of the Cool Crowd around us, which made me laugh. The gin was thrumming through my veins, the music was loud and pulsing, and I had an attentive partner—what more could I ask for?
“Shit,” Jim muttered suddenly, his eyes on Rick and Lucy. My own widened as I followed his gaze. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her body pressed close to his, while his face was buried in her shoulder. They were swaying in time to the music and appeared completely wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the crowd of people.
The gin roiled dangerously in my stomach, and for an instant, I was sure I was going to throw up.
Then I realized that Jim was actually pointing beyond Rick and Lucy, back to the table, where Etta now sat alone, looking despondent. “Poor thing,” he sighed. “I guess she didn’t have much of a shot, huh?”
“I guess not,” I said, my voice sounding strangely high pitched as my gaze flicked back to Lucy and Rick. Suddenly, I knew I had to get the hell off that dance floor.
“Why don’t you go rescue her,” I advised. “I need to hit the restroom.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I feel bad for her. I think she needs a dance partner more than I do at this point.”
He nodded, already half turning to the table. I patted his arm and set off in the opposite direction, searching for the restroom or a waiter who could offer more booze, whichever came first.
Before I could find either, someone stepped into my path, causing me to stop short. “Annabelle Elliot? Is that you?”
I looked up into the man’s face and laughed in sudden recognition. “Will? Will Clay?”
He grinned down at me. “Who in the hell would have thought I’d run into you here! Last I heard, you were in Vegas. Small world, eh?”
I laughed and reached up to hug him. Will Clay had grown up two houses down from me. From the age of six until I had transferred at fourteen, we had somehow ended up in every single class together. I had fond memories of making mud pies in his back yard. When we were in junior high, he had actually been my first kiss, during a game of spin the bottle at my first boy-girl party. And he had been nice enough to not tease me afterward. Even after I transferred to Cranbrook, he had always been nice to me, unlike most of the other kids in our school, who were convinced my change in education had made me a snob.
Will hugged me back, his familiar laughter in my ear. “I just saw your dad,” he said, pulling back. “Two weeks ago when I was home visiting.”
“Visiting?” I asked. “Where are you located these days?”
“I’m in Vegas, too! When your dad told me that’s where you were living, I decided I would look you up. But I’ve been traveling on business pretty much ever since.”
Someone bumped me from behind, and Will reached out to grasp my shoulders, keeping me from falling. “Thanks.”
He looked around. “We’re kind of in a high-traffic area here. Let’s go sit down, catch up a little.”
The idea of connecting with someone from home—someone I had known since well before Rick or even Emma—was immediately appealing. I slipped my arm through his when he offered and walked with him back to his table.
“This is wild,” he muttered as he held out a chair for me. “Seeing you here. Are you on vacation?”
“Work,” I replied. “We go back to Vegas tomorrow.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “I go back in two days. So what do you do in Vegas? Your dad said something about real estate? Are you an agent?”
“I’m in property development.” I briefly told him about the business and some of the work we had done.
“Pink?” he asked, slapping his hands on the table. “Shut up, that’s your club? I love that place.”
“I’m glad to hear it. God knows it gave me enough premature grey hairs—glad to hear it was worth it to you, at least.”
“Grey hairs my ass. You haven’t aged a day since high school.” He laughed, his eyes flicking up and down my figure just quickly enough for me to notice—and to notice the appreciation in his gaze. Immediately, I felt heat come to my cheeks, not unwelcome. It was nice actually, feeling like someone appreciated the sight of me.
“What about you?” I asked, leaning across the table a little to hear him better over the music. “What have you been up to in the last—what? Ten years? Eleven?”
“Ten years, Jesus. I’ve been doing lots of stuff, to be honest.” He gave me a sheepish sort of grin. Will had never been very focused in school, in trouble more often than not. And from everything I heard from my dad since moving, that hadn’t changed much with adulthood.
“I did some trucking,” he said, laughing. “That was the worst. So boring, Annabelle, you have no idea. So then I got into shrimping—”
“Shrimping?”
He nodded, eyes sparkling. I had always liked this about Will—the ease with which he shared information. He was rarely guarded or self-conscious, much more likely to be self-deprecating and open. He had a “fuck-em-all” attitude about people judging him, a trait I had long wished to develop in myself.
“That didn’t work out so good. Turns out I get really seasick.”
I laughed. “Maybe something to have figured out before you started working on a shrimping boat.”
“Exactly. So after that, I did a stint at your dad’s shop.” I grimaced. Now that I thought about it, my dad had mentioned that several years ago, but I had been too busy and important to give more than a passing thought to my old friend. Will continued, “Then, I got myself into a bit of trouble—let’s just say that medical marijuana cards are a lot more regulated than you might think—so I joined the Marines to try and straighten up a little.”
I shook my head, gaping at him. His eyes were laughing at my shock. “Trouble with the law?”
He waved his hands. “Minor, promise. Just scary enough to get me on the straight and narrow. And make me feel guilty as hell about my
mom being disappointed in me.”
I winced. “How’s she doing?” Will’s mom, much like my dad, had raised him alone. Unlike my dad, she had never seemed to get a handle on things. In and out of work, they were even poorer than we were. I remembered Will coming to school in tattered gym shoes in the midst of a snow storm, his mom either unable to get him boots or too clueless to realize he needed them.
“She’s okay,” he said softly. “Had to go on disability a few years ago, actually helped her out a lot. Things are more…stable for her now.”
“I’m glad.” I reached across the table and placed my hand over his, feeling a pang of empathy. I knew all too well what it was like to be poor, to be unsure when the next utility might get shut off. My dad worked his ass off for us, but we had spent years right on the edge. And Will got that. It was strange to think that, in many ways, I had more in common with this guy who I hadn’t seen in years than I did with anyone else in the room.
“Enough of that,” he said, shaking his head and grinning again. “I was regaling you with tales of my adventures.”
“Mis-adventures, you mean.” I laughed. “Okay, so you joined the Marines after the minor problems with law enforcement.”
He snapped his fingers. “Yup. Joined the Marines. Got my sorry little life all sorted out.” He winked. “Turns out, I had some issues with authority. I know, it was a total shock for me, too.”
“This from the kid who once let a box of frogs free in the principal’s office.”
He winked at me before continuing. “So the Marines got me on the straight and narrow, I did two tours in Afghanistan and saw some seriously fucked up shit that inspired in me a great desire to get my act together. Let me tell you something, Annabelle—nothing motivates you to make money quite like seeing an entire country of poor people. I’d always thought things couldn’t get any worse than how we grew up, you know? Well, a month in Kabul showed me otherwise.”
“Wow,” I whispered, thinking of how differently our paths had diverged. I tried to imagine smiling, jovial, trouble-making Will in combat fatigues and came up blank. “So did you do it? Get your act together?”
He grinned and batted his eyelashes at me. “I did, indeed. I came home determined to make some money and get some security. One of my buddies from the Corps was doing some house flipping in the recession and needed hands for the labor. And what do you know—” He leaned across the table. “I was damn good at it!”
I raised my hands in a little cheer and Will laughed. “So I’ve been doing that ever since. I relocated to Vegas a few months ago when a good opportunity came up to work with some much more successful friends. It’s been eye opening, to say the least.”
I laughed. “I can relate.”
He leaned back in his chair, nodding across the table at me. “I forgot that you’ve been running with the rich crowd for a while now.”
I snorted. “You could say that.”
Again he leaned across the table, his eyes glinting conspiratorially. “We should write a book. Crazy Things Rich Folks Do by a pair of Normals.”
I actually cackled at the thought. “I predict a best seller.”
“Then we’ll be rich, too, and we can buy our own private jets and thousand-dollar toilets and be just as nuts as them.”
“You make it sound so appealing.”
“Annabelle?” Lucy’s familiar voice piped in, and I jumped, twisting in my chair to see her approaching, the others behind her. Rick had his scowl back on and everyone else seemed slightly more unsteady on their feet than the last time I had seen them.
“Hey, Luce.” I turned to Will. “This is my assistant, Lucy Musgrove.”
His eyes widened, and he mouthed “Assistant? Big time!” making me giggle as I turned back to Lucy. “Luce, this is an old friend from home, Will Clay.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand before glancing over her shoulder, almost nervously. Rick’s scowl deepened, and I allowed myself the indulgence of rolling my eyes. Some combination of the gin, the dancing, and reuniting with Will had my anxiety level way down. It felt nice.
“Rick thinks we should get back to the hotel,” she muttered apologetically. “Since we have that meeting first thing.”
“And Rick was too scared to come tell me himself. Got it.” I turned my back to her, tired of the entire group of them. “I’ll meet you at the door in a minute.”
She seemed hesitant, but something in the set of my shoulders must have warned her that I was serious. I glanced back over my shoulder and watched her edge away.
“Wow,” Will said, the corners of his lips edging upward, as if it wasn’t possible for him to go a full minute without grinning. “Scaring your underlings. I like it.”
“Lucy’s fine.” I felt a little bit guilty for my rudeness. “The rest of them…”
“Hey, I get it. Rich people are very important and very busy and don’t have time for catching up with old friends.”
I laughed, realizing as I did so that I had laughed more in the past fifteen minutes with Will than I had in months. “This was nice.”
His face seemed to light up even more. “It was. We should do it again sometime, now that we’re both in Vegas.”
“I would like that.” Feeling much more bold than was the norm for me, I held out my phone. “Put your number in. I’ll call you when I’m back in town.”
He winked as he took my phone. “A girl who takes charge. I like it.”
Behind his head, I could see the others gathered at the door. Mary was trying to get my attention, waving her arms wildly. I sighed. “I should go.”
He stood with me, pulling me into a tight hug. “This was really great,” he said, not releasing me. “I’m so glad we ran into each other.”
I pulled back, the color back in my face. Again, it wasn’t unwelcome. Particularly when I could see Rick Scowl-face Wentworth over his head. “Me, too.”
He continued to hold my arms. “You promise you’ll call?”
“I promise.”
Before releasing me, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Then I’ll keep my schedule open.”
I laughed, my blush increasing. “Good.”
I waved over my shoulder as I finally turned away, feeling happier than I had in a very long time. When I reached the group, Mary sighed loudly. “Finally.”
“He was cute,” Etta giggled, grabbing my arm. I wondered how much she’d had to drink.
Rick turned away, and I thought I saw his fists clenched before he shoved them in his pockets. Then he was striding away, apparently too impatient to wait for any of us.
But, for once, I didn’t wilt under the projected annoyance. Will had been happy to see me, happy to catch up. Had even expressed an interest in seeing me again. So what if Rick Wentworth seemed determined to hate me for the rest of our lives?
I didn’t need his approval. In fact, I didn’t need anything from him.
Chapter Fifteen
Our last day in Los Angeles dawned bright and sunny. With our return flight not leaving until evening, and with all of the tours Jim arranged completed, we decided we may as well enjoy a few hours on the beach. Actually, from the determined set of Jim’s mouth when he brought it up, I wondered if maybe Emma had given explicit instructions that I was to get some beach time.
“Oh, I needed this,” Mary said, stretching her arms over her head as she crossed one perfectly pedicured foot over the other. Though the rest of us were satisfied to stretch out on beach towels, Mary had insisted that Charlie go out in search of a beach chair for her. When I pointed out that we would only be at the beach for a few hours and that I was sure the hotel could provide us with some beach blankets, she had scoffed. “We’re not on Spring Break here, Annabelle. This isn’t college.”
I did my best to ignore Lucy and Etta as they pulled off their little beach cover-ups and took turns lathering up in sunscreen. I had a feeling I was the only person in a twenty-foot radius ignoring them—half the g
uys on this section of the beach were checking them out, including Jim. Mary glared at Charlie, as if daring him to look at Etta in the minuscule matching scraps of fabric that she called a bikini.
I pulled my own cover up more firmly into place and settled onto my towel. “Aren’t you going to tan?” Lucy asked, rubbing oil into her arms.
“You keep forgetting that I’m an old fart, Luce,” I told her, placing a wide-brimmed hat on my head. “Sun doesn’t treat my skin as kindly as it used to.”
She giggled, and I heard a snort to my left. Looking over, I just made eye contact with Rick before he turned away. He looked like he was trying not to smile.
For the next ten minutes or so, I tried to relax and drown out the noises around me. Which would have been a lot easier had Etta and Lucy not been giggling constantly. Or if Mary and Charlie weren’t bickering.
“Good book?”
My eyes flew open to see Rick settled on the blanket next to me. I felt strangely vulnerable, lying there, not knowing how long he had been sitting nearby, almost close enough to touch. I quickly pulled myself up into a seated position. “It’s okay. I’ve been having trouble getting into it.”
He glanced down at the paperback cover. “Looks girly.”
I laughed. “It is. Maybe that’s why I’m having trouble getting into it.”
“I never took you for much of a self-help kind of girl.”
My heart started beating faster. It seemed no matter how casually it came up, every time our shared past was mentioned, I felt uncomfortable.
“Emma recommended it.”
His jaws clapped shut with an audible snap, and I hurried to change the subject, not wanting things to go back to their unpleasant status quo. “Have you read anything good lately?”
He scrunched up his face, his eyes trained on the ocean. “It’s embarrassing to admit it, but no. It seems like I never have time to read for pleasure anymore.”
I watched the crashing waves in front of us, trying not to think about the many hours we had spent discussing our favorite books in a different life. “I know what you mean.”
Persuaded Page 17
