Marry Screw Kill

by Liv Morris

  In the end, having a summer internship at The Clinic on my résumé equals gold in the medical community—thank you, Uncle James. Let the fun begin.

  “It’s okay if I invite a few friends over, right?” Not turning around, Bentley takes several photos of the view with his cell phone. This is the first time I’ve let him loose with the keys to my place, and I may live to regret this decision. He promised I could ask anything of him in the future and he would grant me my wish—my own personal southern genie.

  “Sure.” I watch his fingers fly over the screen of his phone, betting he’s sending the photos along with my address to his friends now. “Just remember this isn’t a frat house at Ole’ Miss.”

  Bentley and I met when we were fifteen at an elite boarding school in Connecticut. He flew in from the heart of Mississippi. I strolled there from Manhattan. If the average person compared our backgrounds, they’d say we had nothing in common. We soon found out we were both ambitious about two things: getting in to a prestigious med school and the hottest girl’s pants. We’ve been wingmen ever since.

  “Where did you say you’re going?” He pivots away from the window and heads back to where I’m standing by the front door next to my packed suitcase.

  “Rochester, Minnesota.”

  “Jesus.” He shakes his head. “I might feel guilty knowing you’re out in the middle of nowhere while I’m overdosing on tits and pussy.”

  “Please buy me new sheets, or maybe even a new mattress, before I return. Along with finding your own apartment.”

  After high school, Bentley and I deferred our college admissions and lived one crazy ass year in Australia. We separated during undergrad, though. He headed to his family’s alma mater, Ole’ Miss, and I rebelled, choosing Columbia despite the two generations of Harvard graduates in my family. Now, we’re back together in the same city, officially starting our first year of med school at Columbia this summer.

  “I’m looking for an apartment in this building. Maybe next door. I want this view. I’m thinking it has a way of impressing the ladies.” Bentley waggles his brows and I have to laugh at his display. Somehow, his southern charm wins out over his corny humor—and believe me, it’s corny as hell.

  “I feel like a parent leaving town knowing the kids are going to turn the place into Spring Break Central.” He only smiles at me.

  “I’ll be careful, Dad.” He pats me on the shoulder, but I brush off his hand. “Whoa. Lighten up.”

  “Just do me a favor. Don’t text me about the sex you’re having. I’ll be lucky if I see any skin above the knees.”

  “Poor, Sin. How will the women handle it without you here?” Bentley mocks.

  “All right. I’m outta here,” I say, reaching my limit of his so-called good-natured jabs.

  I yank the telescoping handle on my suitcase and open the door. “There are plenty of Magnums in the nightstand, though they’re probably too big.”

  “Hey!” Bentley shouts out as the door closes behind me.

  I pull my luggage to the elevator and smile. I love having the last punch. Then I realize he’ll be the one smiling when I get home and find an empty box of condoms. Fucking Rochester.

  As I exit the elevator into the lobby, Henry, my favorite doorman, signals to me. I make my way over to his station and wait for him to get off the house phone.

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand. A taxi will be waiting out front at precisely two.” He pauses, then continues. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Lawry. It’s my pleasure.”

  Back to nodding, Henry smiles at me while rolling his large, hazel eyes. I can’t hold back the laughter. His good temper has its limits, after all. Henry breathes a sigh of relief when the call finally ends.

  “Mr. Elliott, are you heading out, sir?”

  “For the millionth time, please call me Sinclair.”

  “Mr. Elliot, you know I’m required by management to address you formally.”

  “Well, I’m no longer a resident here, Henry, since I’m moving to Minnesota for four weeks. I’m just a common man on the street.”

  I reach out to shake his hand. “Henry, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sinclair.”

  Placing his hand in mine, Henry replies, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Elliott.”

  “Come on, man. I bet you know more about me than most people in my life.”

  “Surely, you’re closer with that blond lady friend of yours?”

  “Rachel? We have a pretty professional relationship. But I guess on some level she knows me.”

  “Professional? Is she a … you know?” Henry winks at me and I put two and two together. He thinks Rachel is a hooker.

  “Oh shit, no! She’s a fellow pre-med student,” I laugh, knowing how hilarious Rachel would’ve found Henry’s question.

  “I’m not quite sure I understand you. Is it one of those friends with benefits things between you two?”

  “I guess that’s what you would call it. We’re two busy students trying to get into med school. We skipped the dinner dates and went straight to … well, you know what I mean.”

  There really isn’t an easy way to explain to him what Rachel and I have … or more like, what we don’t have together. It boils down to two things: we have needs and we mutually satisfy them. Besides, she’s off to Johns Hopkins for med school, so any chance of more between us will be separated by distance. Even if she stayed in town for school, the chemistry between us lacked something. Passion, maybe?

  “Mark my words, one day you’ll meet someone special. Probably when you least expect it.” Henry grins at me and I return it.

  “You’re killing me with this hopeless romantic stuff. I have no intention of pursuing a serious relationship until I’m done with my residency and practicing medicine for at least two years. That’s my plan.”

  “God knows you’re the smart one between the two of us, but the best laid plans can easily be disrupted.” The jovial twinkle in Henry’s eyes fades into a serious stare.

  “I tried dating a few times, but it didn’t work out. It’s not fair to let a woman think I’m up for giving her more.” I’m not sure what to think of this reflective side of Henry. We’ve never talked this deeply before—hell, I never talk this deeply with anyone.

  “No man’s an island, Mr. Elliott. Everyone needs love in their life. Even a young, ambitious man like yourself.”

  “Okay, how do I know when it’s the real thing?” I lean over Henry’s station and wait for his response. I’m sure he can see the doubt in my eyes.

  “Hmm, good question.” Henry rubs his hand over his chin and nods, an answer forming in his knowing eyes.

  “I look at my parents. Both have been divorced and remarried. Now, my father’s getting divorced again.” I’ve only met my stepmother once, and I swear she batted her eyes at me the entire time. “It’s hard to know what love is when I see such great examples of it,” I say, the sarcasm in my voice thick.

  “Don’t let their lives dictate yours. Someday, there will be a woman—one who takes your breath away. You won’t be afraid of commitment, you’ll be afraid of living without her. That’s when you’ll know. She’ll be your reason to exist. You’ll want to move heaven and earth to make her happy and see her smiling face. God help you then. He’s the only one who can.”

  “I can’t wrap my head around that kind of love.” His words remind me of childhood fairytales; the love at first sight and prince saves the princess bullshit.

  “No one can.” Henry squints and assesses me with a smile.

  Slightly unnerved, I glance down at my Breitling’s Bentley watch Henry has admired for years. If I don’t catch a cab now, I realize I won’t make my flight on time. Inspiration strikes and I make a quick decision.

  “Thanks for this chat, but I better get moving. My flight leaves in just under two hours. Before I go, I’d like you to take care of something while I’m away.”

  I release the watch from my wrist and motion for him to hold out his hand. Henry glances back and for
th from my face to my fingers.

  “Wait, you’re letting me wear your watch? It would probably cost me ten grand to buy one of these.”

  “Take it, Henry. I won’t take no for an answer.” He starts to protest, but I speak before he gets a word out. “Push up your sleeve and hold out your arm.”

  Quietly, Henry obeys. I place the timepiece on his wrist. “You wear it proud, my friend. As a matter of fact, it’s yours to keep. Consider it my long-standing tip. I’m tired of handing you cash all the time anyway.” Henry laughs and turns his wrist back and forth while marveling at the Swiss-made masterpiece.

  He looks up at me with gratitude in his eyes. “I don’t have words to thank you, Mr. Elliot. I’m going to talk my daughter into naming her unborn son after you.”

  “I’d think twice about that. People are always telling me how old fashioned my name is. Besides, I can be a shit sometimes.”

  “You’re a good man. Don’t you ever forget that.” Sliding to my side on the soles of his shiny black shoes, he wraps his large arms around me. His embrace is full of warmth and love. Other than my grandmother, I can’t remember the last time someone simply hugged me. My own father’s touch never progresses beyond a cold, awkward handshake.

  An odd sensation rises up in my throat, making my breathing difficult. Pulling away from Henry, I raise the wall back up, but fuck if that little bit of tenderness didn’t feel good.

  I adjust my Armani T-shirt and stick my hand out. “Goodbye, Henry.” My stance becomes taller, stiffer. He seems to understand what I’m doing.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Elliott.” He tips his black hat at me, his eyes full of pity.

  I reach for my suitcase, and Henry mutters, “Love will find you, my friend,” in a hushed whisper. I don’t think I am supposed to hear his words, but I do.

  Chapter Five

  Sin

  As the taxi driver maneuvers the streets of New York City to La Guardia, Henry’s words about love and its fairytales rattle around in my head. I try to shake them off, but something about what he said sticks with me. I reach for my cell phone and pull up Rachel’s number, knowing what I’m about to do is likely a big mistake.

  “Sin?” She seems surprised. Frankly, I’m as shocked as she is. So much for making a clean break, but I feel unsettled after talking to Henry about my relationship with her

  “Hi, Rachel. Bad time?” Please say yes so I can end my misery—and hers.

  “No, it’s fine. Just wasn’t expecting to hear from you ag—uh, so soon.”

  Fuck, she was going to say again. I know it. I’ve turned a smooth ending into something jagged and awkward.

  “I’m on my way to the airport now and I wanted to …” What exactly did I really want? “Hell, I don’t know what I wanted to say.”

  We don’t have a future together as a couple, but walking away from her completely doesn’t feel right either. I’ve explored every inch of her body, and now we’re nothing more than strangers. I was hoping the call would help me sort through my feelings, but it’s only making it worse.

  “You don’t have to say anything, Sin.” She’s making this far too easy for me. “You’re going to make a great doctor one day.”

  “Thank you. You will, too.”

  “Goodbye, Sin.” She speaks my name in a mere breath and hangs up.

  “Bye, Rachel,” I say into the dead air.

  We agreed to no feelings beyond the physical, so this odd emptiness makes no sense. Maybe I cared for her more than I realized, because something doesn’t feel right about never speaking to her again. It’s like I’m erasing her from my mind without thinking about her as a human, discarding her like yesterday’s trash.

  As the cab skirts the edge of Manhattan on the FDR highway, my phone begins to vibrate in my hand. I loosen my fingers to read the screen and smile in relief. If anyone can center me, it’s Nina.

  “Grandmother.” I sink back into the seat and wait for her to speak first—an art form she personally created.

  “Sinclair,” she says in her Upper East Side tone. “You were supposed to call me before you headed out to Rochester, remember?”

  Shit. “I’m so sorry. It slipped my mind.”

  “All’s forgiven. Now, how’s my favorite grandson?” The teasing Nina appears. I grin at her question.

  “Well, I am your only grandchild, so that puts me in the lead no matter what.” We laugh together and my mood shifts, lightening again. “I’m in a cab on the way to La Guardia. I’ll be in Rochester by dinner time.”

  “Good, I caught you before you left. Maybe you can find out what’s up with my son. Your uncle James never returns my calls and I need a spy.”

  “Oh, do you?” She can afford a full army of private detectives if needed. I wonder what’s up.

  “Yes. Your father and uncle keep everything from me, but I only have myself to blame. I pressured your father to succeed in life, and now he’s become a cold, power-driven man. I indulged James, and as the baby of the family, he thinks the world revolves around him.”

  “Ah, but you loved them. What they did with their own lives isn’t your fault.” I hate hearing the sadness in her voice. She needs to stop blaming herself, but she laments on like this so often, I know it haunts her. “You’ve pushed me to work hard and have also indulged me. Remember the apartment you gave me for graduation? Other than my stint in Australia, my life seems to be okay.”

  “You’re my redemption, Sinclair. I thank God every day for you. I just wish I’d been wiser when I had the chance with my sons. I wasn’t even invited to your father’s wedding.”

  “That makes two of us.” Before I graduated from Columbia a couple weeks ago, I hadn’t spoken to my father in months.

  He claimed to be too busy with a deal overseas. Last year, it was the deal in California. The real deal is he doesn’t give a flying fuck about me. And my mother, his ex-wife, spends her days as a New York City socialite living off the millions from the divorce settlement. Gala organizing, massages, making the boutique rounds with personal shoppers—her life is rough.

  “Well, your father’s divorcing his newest wife anyway. Good riddance. What is it with men running after women half their age? Which brings me to James and the trollop he’s marrying. I need to know more about her before I agree to attend their wedding. I refuse to go and give my blessing if he’s marrying a gold digger as I fear.”

  “She’s picking me up from the airport because he’s tied up at the hospital. What do you know about her? All I have from Uncle James is her name.” Harlow.

  “She’s young, obscenely young compared to him. Beautiful, of course. Supposedly, she’s mature for her age, an old soul, which means she can tie her own shoes.” Heavy sarcasm underscores Nina’s description, along with an added chuckle. “She’s been living with him since they met a few months ago.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “She was brought to the hospital the night her mother was murdered,” Nina says, and I shake my head in disbelief.

  “What?”

  “Domestic incident of some kind.”

  “Wow. Was she hurt, too?” James wouldn’t be wandering around the ER without a reason. Did she have an injury requiring a heart surgeon to examine her? It would explain how he met her.

  “I don’t know any specifics, and James isn’t answering my calls right now. That’s where I need you to fill in the blanks for me. Connect the dots and see if they all lead back to his hefty bank account.” Nina has always warned me that my family’s wealth makes us targets for grifters and sycophants. Her radar is pinging, and now, so is mine.

  “I’ll do my best, but I’m going to be busy. Who knows if she’ll even talk to me.” I imagine his fiancée going to lunches with her girlfriends and shopping with his credit card. I’ve seen women younger than her living that lifestyle in New York City thanks to a sugar daddy’s deep pockets. Rochester may be different, but a gold digger’s methods are still the same. Find an older rich man and live off his money while
keeping him happy in bed.

  “She’ll talk to you, Sinclair. I have no doubt about that. Just be your charming, handsome self, and I am sure her true colors will come out,” Nina says, her tone mocking.

  “Oh, grandmother, you’re wicked.” She cackles like a witch at my comment. I never want to be on her bad side.

  “All I’m saying is see where her true interests lie. Don’t cross a line, just see if she wants you to.”

  “Hey, we’re pulling up to the airport. Gotta run.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you in a couple days, and thanks, Sinclair. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  The cabbie swings the car in front of the American Airlines departure area. I hand a wad of cash to the driver, leaving him with a rather large smile. I gather my luggage and head to the ticket counter. My trek to Rochester begins, ready or not.

  ***

  My flight lands in Rochester on time. I exit the plane and walk the short concourse to the terminal exit. As I pass through security and start down the ramp to baggage claim, it dawns on me that I have no clue what Harlow looks like.

  I scan the area and notice a petite woman with glowing blond hair at the end of the ramp. I can barely see her above the bustle of those passing by, but the golden-spun strands make a halo around her head. It’s not a bleached-out look, but an unearthly color that reminds me of corn silk—light to the eyes and likely soft to the touch.

  When the crowd parts, she comes into full view and I almost stop in my tracks. My eyes travel down her slender frame and long as hell legs to the red heels on her feet. Talk about enticing. Her white dress and unique hair color makes her look almost angelic, but I doubt angels look like a wet dream in red shoes. I let my eyes slowly roam over her, hoping to burn her perfection into a memory to use later in the shower.

  She’s holding a sign like car service drivers use to announce, Hey, there, Mr. or Mrs. So and So, I’m your ride home. As I draw closer, I wonder whom she’s waiting for.

  Our eyes connect. Hers are a deep blueberry, a stark contrast to her pale skin. Damn, they’re as unique as the shade of her hair. She stares right into me, and to say she’s pretty would be a disservice to the creator who made her.