by Kally Ash
Tempt Me
Kally Ash
Published by Vixen Publishing
First Edition, 2015
Copyright © 2015 by Kally Ash
The right of Kally Ash to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
ISBN: 978-0-6480360-0-5
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
“She’s gone.”
Silence greeted Max. It was the kind of silence that made him wish he already had a shot of something strong and potent in his hand.
“Hello?”
“Yes, I’m here, dear. What do you mean, she’s gone?” his mom asked.
He ran a hand through his short hair and blew out a breath. “I mean, she’s gone. Her side of the wardrobe has been cleared out; all the things on the dresser are missing. She just wasn’t here when I got home.”
More of that infuriating silence.
“What about Erin?”
He looked down at his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. “She left her behind.”
“I’m coming over,” his mother said tersely, hanging up the phone before he could tell her not to bother.
Max placed his phone back into his pocket. This was not what he was expecting when he came home from a fourteen-hour day at work. Walking back through to his bedroom, he stood in the doorway and studied the space he used to share with his wife. Chelsea and he had been together since they were in high school together—the picture-perfect quarterback and head cheerleader living the dream of popularity. Just before school had finished, she’d told Max she was pregnant. They’d gotten married because that was what was expected, but things were far from perfect. Max had found out she’d lied about carrying his child, and so the seed of doubt and resentment started to grow.
He had moved on from being the high school jock. He’d gotten a real job, and after eight years of hard work, he had become the manager of one of the most popular bars in LA. Chelsea, on the other hand, seemed to be stuck in the high school frame of mind. The problem with that was there were no doting airheads to stroke her ego every day, and that job got pretty fucking boring when Max was left to do it.
He had always thought Chelsea was beautiful—everyone did—and maybe that was the problem. She had the signature blonde hair and blue eyes that all the guys at school had liked, and that was perhaps the only reason he had agreed to date her in the first place; Chelsea was the unobtainable girl for every guy, expect for him.
She was pretty, but had no substance. She was a picture book.
Slumping down onto the edge of the bed, he let his head fall into his hands. What the fuck was he going to do now? Erin was barely four months old, he worked strange hours of the day and night at the bar and he had no idea how he was supposed to deal with the shit Chelsea had just piled on top of it too. Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he looked up and saw his tired face staring back at him in the mirror hanging on the wall.
Erin started crying before he could study himself too closely. Hauling himself up on to his feet, Max went into his daughter’s room to find her wailing, her little fists clenched tight and her face stained red. Scooping her up, he held her close to his chest and rocked her gently. Erin had taken after Chelsea in every way possible. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. She even had the same dimples her mother had when she smiled. Thinking how she had left Erin alone for god knew how long tonight made him angrier than knowing that Chelsea had actually left him. It was one thing to screw him over—he was a grown man, he could take it—but to screw over their daughter, too?
His blood boiled.
Erin was going to grow up without a goddamn mother, and that was what really chaffed Max.
“It’s all right, baby girl,” he murmured into her ear, settling her until her cries became small whimpers of protest. “That’s right. Drift off to sleep now. Good girl.”
He rocked Erin until she fell asleep in his arms. After he put her down again, he shut her bedroom door and went into the kitchen. Pulling open the freezer, he took out a bottle of vodka then found a glass drying in the rack beside the sink.
The clear liquor froze his throat on the way down, the burn of the alcohol chasing the sensation away. He was on his second drink when there was a knock on the door. He stood up and walked through his living room to the entryway. He stared at the door—half of him hoping it was Chelsea on the other side, but the other half telling him he was a fucking idiot for thinking she would come back.
“Max?” his mother called.
With a sigh, he opened the door. The porch light was still broken, so he couldn’t see his mother’s face clearly, but he knew it would be a mixture of disapproval and pity. She stepped into the entry hall and took off her coat, handing it to him.
“When did you get home?” she asked, walking ahead of him into the kitchen. Even from behind, he could see her gaze falling on the bottle of vodka and glass sitting on the bench, her head shaking in disapproval. Max watched her fill the kettle and put it on to boil before he answered.
“About forty-five minutes ago.”
His mother frowned. “And when did she leave?”
“I have no idea.”
His mom’s lips thinned into a severe line. “That woman is so irresponsible. How could she leave her child like that? Anything could have happened to her while she was alone.”
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “It wasn’t like she was left with lighter fluid and a box of matches in her crib, Mom.”
She huffed, glaring at him. “Don’t get smart with me, Max. You know what I mean.”
He nodded. He knew exactly what she was talking about. Erin could have stopped breathing, or gotten stuck in the bars of her crib, or any number of other things.
“Did she leave a note, at least?”
The fact that his mom constantly referred to Chelsea as she didn’t escape his notice. From the moment they’d started dating in high school, his mom had instantly disliked Chelsea. She’d said that he would get bored with dating a shallow, superficial girl. At the time, he hadn’t thought much about it, but as time and circumstances beyond his control had fused them together, he finally saw what his mom was talking about.
“No.”
His mom angrily made them each a cup of tea, banging the ceramic mugs together. “You don’t seem terribly upset or surprised by this, Max.” She said the words over her shoulder as she poured the boiled water into the cups.
“I’m not. Things have been…rocky for a while,” he replied, picking up the empty vodka glass and placing it in the sink. “I was keeping things together for the sake of Erin.”
She stopped what she was doing, placing both hands down onto the counter top. Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “That poor child—being brought into all this.”
He knew what she was saying. Erin hadn’t been planned. Max didn’t want to have any children with Chelsea. He’d doubted just how good a mother she would be. Today’s actions certainly cemented that suspicion. But one day, Chelsea had announced she was pregnant even though she was supposed to be on the pill. He had confronted her about intentionally falling pregnant in order to try and ‘fix’ th
eir marriage. She had denied it, but he had found the box of contraception in the trash, all the foil trays untouched.
Still, he wouldn’t have taken any of it back. Erin had given his life meaning.
“We’ll be fine, Mom.” He took the mug his mother offered and walked into the living room. “I’ll just have to talk to my boss about working fewer night shifts and maybe getting Erin into day care during the day.”
“Why would you want to put her in day care?” she asked, placing her mug down on the worn coffee table beside the couch.
Max frowned. “Because I’ll have to work.”
“I’ll take her during the day,” she said. “I’ve never had the chance to have her for more than a few hours at a time.”
“Are you sure about this, Mom? A baby can be a lot of work.”
She waved away his question. “I looked after you and your three brothers with no problems. What makes you think I can’t look after one sweet little girl on my own?”
If she was being serious, she was going to save him not only a lot of money, but a lot of worry too. Reaching out, he squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Mom.”
“When are you working again?”
Fuck. “In the morning—we’re doing inventory and Evangeline wants us to start early.”
“I thought as much,” she replied. “I’m staying over. I’ve already got a packed bag in the car.”
Thank god his mom was always prepared.
“You take my bed then. I’ll stay on the couch.”
He looked down into his tea and wished he had the bottle of vodka again. His mother disapproved of drinking because her father had been an alcoholic. The only way he was going to get another drink into him was by going out. Pulling out his phone, he texted his best friend.
Less than a minute later, he got a reply.
Standing up, he said, “I’m going to go meet Sam. Don’t wait up for me, though.” Bending down, he kissed his mother on the forehead. “Thanks.”
Grabbing his keys from the dish by the door, he walked out to his car and got in. Sam had been his best friend since grade school. There was nothing the guy didn’t know about Max and Chelsea’s whole fucked-up relationship. He knew about the time when Chelsea cheated on Max in their senior year, and he knew the reason he had taken her back.
He drove down to the same bar he and Sam went to every Thursday night when Max wasn’t working. Sam’s bike was already parked out the front when he pulled into the lot beside the bar. Max stared at his left hand still resting on the steering wheel; his wedding ring seemed to be mocking him. Before he got out of the car, he slid the gold band from his ring finger and dropped it into the centre console. He pulled open the door of the bar and was greeted with the familiar smells of nuts and stale beer.
“What’s up?” Sam asked as soon as Max sat down next to him at the table.
Dumping his phone and keys on the worn table, Max stared at his best friend. He heaved a heavy sigh, preparing himself to say the words. “She took off.”
Sam choked on his beer. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he asked, “Chelsea?”
“Hi, what can I get you?” the waitress asked, interrupting their conversation.
“A shot of vodka with a beer chaser.”
The young woman smiled at him. “You got it.”
“Yeah, so…” He glanced up at the waitress, who was still standing there. “That’s all. Thanks.”
“Sure.” She gave them another smile and walked away.
Sam laughed. “Nothing’s changed.”
“What do you mean?”
Gesturing to the waitress standing by the bar as she pretended not to look in their direction, Sam said, “Women still throw themselves at your feet. It’s been exactly the same since high school.”
Internally, Max bristled. Externally, he gave Sam a smug smile. “You’ve always been jealous of me.” He was only joking, but the way Sam’s mouth thinned for that split second, he thought he’d touched on a sore spot.
“Well, you did get the girl, didn’t you?”
At the mention of Chelsea, his mood soured once more. “Yeah,” he agreed. He was glad when the waitress returned with his drinks. She slid a cocktail napkin to him with a wink then walked away.
“You lucky fucking bastard,” Sam muttered. Without looking, Max shoved the napkin in Sam’s direction.
“Take it. There’s no fucking way I’m getting involved with another woman right now. Getting screwed over once was enough.”
Sam was silent for a second, giving Max time to drink his vodka in peace. “Do you think she’s coming back?”
Max scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. He didn’t need this question asked of him, because he knew the answer. Saying it out loud would only make it more real. “No.”
“Not even for Erin?”
Max looked his friend in the eye. “Not even for her. She left her. What kind of woman would leave their own child?”
Bringing the beer glass to his lips, Max drank until he could see the bottom of the thing. It would take a lot more alcohol than that to make him go numb, but it was a damn good start.
“What are you going to do now?”
“The only thing I can,” Max replied. “I’m going to get on with my life. I’m going to look after Erin like Chelsea never did and forget about the bitch.”
Chapter 2
3 months later…
Gigi let out a groan and let her head fall into the open book in front of her. How long had she been studying? It seemed like forever. She’d be glad when finals were over and she could graduate and get a real job. Reaching her hand out, she waited until her fingers wrapped around the can of energy drink she’d been nursing for the last hour and brought it to her lips. “Argh,” she said to herself, placing it back down. It was warm.
It was already eight o’clock and the library would be closing in an hour. She’d hang around until then, figuring the more time she spent in a place dedicated to study and learning, the more the information she was reading would stick. All around her were students who had the same idea.
She picked up her phone, noticing she had another five texts from her roommate, Jen, along with half a dozen missed calls. The screen lit up once more. She canceled the call and put the device down.
“The Oxford Companion to Anthropology,” someone said beside her twenty minutes later. Gigi turned her head to find Jen standing there, Gigi’s textbook in her hand. “I think I’d rather sit through the Fifty Shades movie.”
Taking the book from Jen’s hand, Gigi put it back onto the table. “So why don’t you go and do that and let me get back to studying?” She tried to refocus on her notes, but Jen’s hovering was hard to ignore. Tapping a pencil against her page, Gigi looked back at her. “What are you doing down here? Surely all the ignored texts and calls were enough of a clue—even for you.”
Jen smiled, ignoring Gigi’s comment. Her eyes began roving over the other people completely engrossed in their own books. “Maybe I should come down here more often. Some of these guys look tasty.” She licked her lips appreciatively.
Gigi huffed. “Did you come down here for an actual reason?”
“Yeah. I came to drag you out to have some fun.”
She frowned. “I am having fun.”
“With your nose buried in a book? I don’t think so,” Jen replied, perching on the edge of the table and putting her feet on the seat of a chair next to her. “Besides, finals aren’t for another two weeks. You’ve got plenty of time to study.”
“I need all the time I can get. If you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many anthropology jobs up for grabs. I’ve got to beat everyone else in my course if I want to have even a slight chance of landing a position at the museum.”
Standing up, Jen said, “Gigi, you’ve been working so hard lately. Come out and have some fun tonight and you can get back to studying tomorrow. I promise to make it worth your while.”
She knew it was hopeless to fight Jen once she got an
idea into her head. She closed the book she was reading. “Fine. We’ll go out for one drink. That’s it.”
Jen grinned. “One drink.”
After packing up her books, Gigi followed Jen out of the building and into the slightly chilly New York evening. She looked up at the cloudless sky, wondering when she would get to see the stars again; the city just erased them all. “Where are we going?”
Jen looked at her. “Nowhere, with you looking like that.”
Looking down at herself, Gigi raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Nothing, if you want to attract boring snores of men.”
She did another once-over of what she was wearing. What was wrong with a long-sleeved plaid shirt over a singlet and jean shorts?
“You have no idea what kind of banging body you have hiding under there, Gigi. I wish you’d let me give you a make-over.”
“I’m fine the way I am,” Gigi replied quickly. If she was honest, the thought of make-up other than mascara, lip gloss and hair products scared her. Why did she have to primp and preen every day? She had nobody to impress, and she certainly didn’t need to look good while she studied. Besides, Jen’s sense of style tended to border on whore-chic…if that was a thing. She was always wearing tiny skirts, low-cut tops and dresses with plunging neck and back lines. And don’t even get her started on the heels.
“Not tonight you’re not. I’m going to give you some of my clothes to wear.”
“I think I’ll be all right,” she murmured, not wanting to offend her roommate.
Turning to her, Jen said, “Look, where we’re going is this fancy new wine bar that’s just opened up. You won’t get in wearing what you are. You need to look the part.”
“We could just go somewhere else,” Gigi suggested.
“I’ve wanted to go to this place forever.”
“How could you? It’s just opened.”
Jen waved away the question. “You know what I mean.”
