One Wrong Choice (A Cruel and Beautiful Book Book 3)

by A. M. Hargrove

  She laughs. “You’re funny.” I didn’t notice the cigarette in her fingers. Nails, the color of blood, shine in the florescent light under the awning of the bar as she brings the flame to her lips.

  Then she reaches into her purse and hands me a small rectangular card. “Call me.”

  She doesn’t wait for my response. Instead, she drifts off into the night. I don’t know what to do. As much as I’m not interested, I also know I can’t have the woman I want. What does Jenna have to do to get me to move on? I ask myself. Isn’t the fact that she got engaged enough to show she isn’t interested? And it’s the unmistakable truth that has me pocketing the card and not tossing it out. I’m not ready tonight. But at some point, I’ll pull my head out of my ass and move on.

  The walk home proves to be too much time in my head. When I open the door, I make my way to the kitchen and pull out a bottle of Tanqueray because the spot for my Bombay Sapphire is empty.

  “Big brother,” Braedon says.

  “My Bombay?” is my response.

  “Yeah, about that. I had a girl over.”

  “Of course, you did.”

  “Hey, one of us has to get laid. I swear, as far as bachelor pads go, this place doesn’t see action unless I bring it.”

  “You can go back and live with Mom.”

  He points a finger at me. “That’s cruel. Plus, someone has to save you from becoming a monk.”

  “I do just fine,” I say, pouring myself a glass.

  The brand doesn’t matter when you’re looking to get well and truly smashed.

  “It must be that tight ass girl that’s got you in knots. What’s her name?” He taps a finger to his temple. “Oh… Jenna,” he singsongs.

  “Don’t.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Really, dude, you wouldn’t be a grump if you got some pussy.”

  “And you wouldn’t be a mooch if you got a job.”

  He clutches a hand to his chest. “That’s just rude, man. You’re the one who told me to go to school and shit.”

  Just because he’s right doesn’t mean I want to sit and get a lecture about women from my little brother.

  “Oh, and Mom called,” he adds. “She and Hillbilly Bob are going on vacation, and she wants to borrow some money.”

  “His name is Brock,” I say wearily.

  “You mean Broke. He should have some fucking shame that Mom—”

  I know where he’s going with this. “You mean me.”

  “Yeah, you are going to pay for them to go to Florida to sun it up with the rest of the old people.”

  “There are all kinds of people in Florida and not just old. Didn’t you go to Miami for spring break?” When he says nothing, I add, “Besides, she’s our mom. And everything she sacrificed for us, I intend to pay back.”

  “And even pay for Redneck Dan.”

  “Brock,” I breathe.

  “Broke, you mean. The guy is perpetually unemployed. Talk about me.”

  “Let it go. He makes her happy, and that’s all that matters.”

  “If Dad were around—”

  I don’t let him finish that statement. “He isn’t.”

  Mom has a tendency to fall in love with a man regardless of his financial status. And Brock is a decent guy who means well, but like Mom, he can’t seem to hold a job for long.

  “Whatever, man.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Like I said, he makes her smile.”

  “Dude, I totally do not want to think about how he does it. Clearly, it isn’t with a paycheck.”

  “Braedon, just stop. I don’t need this shit from you tonight.”

  “See, this is why women run all over you.”

  I drain the glass and slam it down. “Enough.”

  Startled, he brings up his hands. “Don’t go all Jason Bourne on me.”

  “Then leave it,” I say.

  “I’m just saying you should call up that hot chick that works for you. The one you used to bone when you had a fucking smile on your face if you want to go there.”

  That’s exactly what I don’t want to remember. Before Jenna and after. She’s like a hurricane that blew onto my shore leaving devastation I’m still buried under.

  “She’s not an option. I shouldn’t have fucked an employee in the first place.”

  My hand goes to my pocket, and I finger the card there. But he’s right. I need to burn off this fucking energy. I haven’t blown my load for days. And the idea of jerking off knowing the only female I’ll see in my head is Jenna makes the idea unappealing. I need to think about her less and not more.

  “You’re not a bad looking dude. You look like Dad and me, and he and I both have had our share of women.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  His mouth forms an O when he finally gets it. We did grow up together in the same house with one bathroom. It’s kind of hard not to know each other’s secrets. “Yeah, that’s a heck of a DNA gene you rolled. But that hasn’t stopped you before. Besides, if you read some of the romance novels, that’s like the Holy Grail you inherited.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You read chick novels.”

  “Well, duh, how else are you supposed to figure out what women want? It’s not like they freely give that information out.”

  Shaking my head and puzzling out the guy before me, I say, “Sometimes I wonder if you weren’t adopted.”

  His eyes flash shock and a hint of hurt for only a second. For all my brother’s bravado, he like me, also got our mother’s tender heart or so she calls it.

  “There’s no way. We look like twins except the ink.”

  His flesh is virgin and he’s smarter than he looks, but dumber than he thinks.

  A figure emerges from the hallway. She’s as naked as the day she was born and cute, too, with blonde hair that falls to the tops of her breasts.

  “Braedon, are you coming back in?”

  She stands at the doorway, leaning against the wall, but making no move to look at all modest.

  He flashes me a smile. “I’m glad I don’t have your problem,” he says, digging in where I feel most vulnerable.

  When he walks away, I only notice then he’s wearing just shorts. I don’t bother going to my bedroom. I don’t want to hear whatever they will be doing across the hall. I opt to sit in the living room with the bottle. I abandon the glass, having no need for it. I turn on the TV and put the volume up high. Then I drink until I finally pass out for the night.

  Morning comes in its blazing glory. Beams of light heat my skin and stir my eyes to open. It takes only a few head pounding moments for me to realize I’m going to be late to open the shop.

  I curse. Expletives leave my lips in a torrent. I leave the empty bottle where it lies and head for the bathroom. I tear open the door to find the blonde behind it.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. But I need to use the bathroom.”

  She scurries out, covering her breasts as if I didn’t see the goods last night. She has nothing to worry about from me. She’s way too young for my liking. Girls like her don’t have much conversation. I can tell because she’s barely said two words to me. But who am I to judge?

  My shower is quick, and I get dressed quicker. My ride is at the shop, so I have to two feet it to the job. When I get there, I’m shocked as shit to see the redhead from last night waiting just outside the office door.

  Fifteen

  Jenna

  Rolling over in bed after the worst night of sleep I can remember, I know what I have to do. When I check the clock on my nightstand for the umpteenth time, it’s only seven, still too early to make my morning visit. But I can’t stay in bed any longer. Throwing off the covers, I drag myself to the shower with the hopes that it will perk me up a bit. No such luck. Since I looked at the time every hour, I know I didn’t sleep at all last night. And it’s because all I saw was a vision of hard muscles wrapped in inked skin that my fingers were dying to explore. By the time my shower ends, I’m not sure if I’m worse off or not. Frustrated i
s the word that best describes my state. I am my own enemy here and have no one to blame but myself.

  Maybe coffee will help, so I put a pot on and eagerly await the concoction to brew. After a few cups of the stuff, I’m finally feeling humanish again. Around nine, I decide I’ve given him enough time to wake up and get dressed. Hopefully, he won’t be too busy to have a little chat with me.

  I use the key to enter Kenneth’s house he’d given me long ago. I’d always called ahead, for no other reason than courtesy. It’s early, and though I want to talk to him, I didn’t want to call and wake him up sooner than necessary. So I step inside. The place smells of cigar smoke, which isn’t unexpected. It also smells of alcohol. But it’s the last smell that has me marching toward his bedroom, double time.

  Sex? Really? He’s cheating on me, that no good son of a bitch. I’m not sure what to feel, especially considering what I’d come to talk about. I wanted to see where his head was. I wanted to know if we could come to some sort of truce. But honestly, I wished that we couldn’t find common ground so I could then break our engagement with a free conscience. Now, I’m wondering who is really the fool.

  The door isn’t locked, so when I barrel inside, I stumble forward. What greets me is nothing I ever could have imagined. And suddenly, my anger dissipates and is replaced by shock.

  Kenneth is on the bed on all fours, ass high in the air, with a ball gag in his mouth. Seeing him wide-eyed and caught has me at a loss for words. A part of me wants to drudge up righteous indignation and the other part remembers why I came here in the first place.

  I blink through the murk in my head the scene in front of me has created and recognize the man balls deep in my former boyfriend. I met him at a golf tournament my sister-in-law put together for my dad’s company.

  “H-Horace,” I stutter.

  The grin he gives me while on his knees behind Kenneth, holding a whip looking thing in his hand, says sorry but not sorry.

  Anger that should come from the realization that Kenneth has been cheating on me for God knows how long doesn’t as relief sets in.

  Something like this should piss me off and break my heart into tiny pieces. Instead, I’m pulling out my phone and opening the camera app.

  Horace poses, throwing deuces and rock-ons with his hands, while Kenneth appears as though he might die any second. He tries to speak, but instead, he’s red-faced as spittle drips from his mouth around the sides of the ball. Holy shit! Straight-laced Kenneth! Who knew? Obviously, not me.

  Horace, who apparently can speak in tongues, understands every word. Urgently, he removes said ball gag from Kenneth’s mouth.

  “I have no words for this scene,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Jenna,” Kenneth gasps, “I beg you to delete those pictures.”

  I’m not even sure why I took them. “No fucking way. I’m still not sure I’m mad enough not to post them on Instagram.”

  “Please, baby,” Kenneth whines.

  “Seriously, don’t call me baby when you have a dick shoved up your ass,” I choke out, on the edge of hysteria.

  Kenneth mumbles something over his shoulder, and I wonder why I’m still standing there. As I start to pivot in an effort to flee, Kenneth calls out my name.

  Instinct has me turning back.

  “Pull out!” Kenneth says over his shoulder.

  Horace, who sounds like a blue blood from one of the oldest plantations in South Carolina, says in his dignified manner, “I’m trying, but it appears I’m stuck.”

  Maybe I’d hit my threshold of the sure lunacy of the situation, but I rear back and chortle. “You’re stuck.” And you would swear I was at a comedy show the way my laughter mixes with my tears. I’m on the edge of something I can’t name. The man I thought I loved enough to marry has a dick stuck up his ass.

  “Yes, see?” Horace says, sounding like he’s talking about not having the right utensil at the dinner table rather than being stuck like glue to my former fiancé’s backside. From my position in front of him, it appears he tries to pull back, but doesn’t manage as much as an inch. “As I said, stuck like glue.”

  “Wait, so you mean, you’re stuck … stuck?”

  “Yes, dear, I believe we are,” Horace says so matter-of-factly, I somehow feel like I’m discussing the weather.

  Looking at Kenneth, I wonder if he could be any more horrified. Except, of course, he can when I drop the next bomb. “Kenneth, suffice it to say,” I begin, trying like hell to sound just as upper crust as Horace, “I hate to break it to you, but the wedding is off.”

  “No, Jenna, you can’t mean that.”

  “What do you think? That I’ll marry you when you obviously have your mind on this? I mean, come on!”

  I begin to turn when Kenneth cries, “Wait, don’t leave. We might need help.”

  Unable to stop myself, I titter, “No way in hell can I help you. Honestly, you two got yourselves in this mess. There is no way I’m going to help you out.”

  “Please, Jenna,” Kenneth begs. “I know how this looks. But I love you. I just…”

  “Like cock up your ass,” Horace finishes for him and slaps his butt cheek. Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t stop laughing as I glance around waiting for the hidden cameras to pop out. No way is this my life.

  Kenneth continues as if the other man didn’t speak. “I haven’t cheated on you. I swear.”

  Wait! What? My eyes narrow, and I prepare a blistering retort of expletives.

  “He’s right, honey. He’s never let me give him so much as a blowjob or has he fucked me in any manner. He only lets me fuck him.”

  A hysterical bubble of laughter leaps from my throat. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You think that’s supposed to make me feel better? Is Kenneth the date you were looking for that night at my brother’s golf thing for work?”

  Horace shrugs, and I add, “Now it all makes sense. No wonder you couldn’t get it up that night and begged off to sleep.”

  “Jenna, I didn’t sleep with you that night out of respect. I respect you and didn’t want us to have sex after I’d been with another.”

  “How magnanimous of you. And honestly, having this conversation while you are so engaged with another man is beyond my comprehension. You should totally call 911 for help.”

  Tears leach from Kenneth’s eyes. “Please, Jenna, my dad can’t find out about this. My life will be over. He’ll disown me.”

  “You’re his only son. Who else would he pass the torch to? Man up.” I look down, and isn’t that the position he’s in? Or maybe I should say butt up. I laugh at my own joke. “He’ll get over it.”

  “He won’t.” Kenneth sobs, and damn, if seeing a grown man cry while being fucked doesn’t get to me. This has to be the worst sort of humiliation ever, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  Before I can answer, Horace does something that I can’t and really don’t want to see, and then he begins to pull back, so far, I can only imagine the sheer size of him.

  “Damn, dude, you must be hung like a horse,” I say.

  Horace has no shame and says, “Yes, my fiancée says the same thing.”

  “What a minute.” I point my finger at a man with a dick that might belong in the Guinness Book of World Records. “You have a fiancée?”

  “Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “But she knows what I am. I’ve tried to break up with her, but she refuses. She’s of the opinion as long as I’m safe and I don’t screw other women, she’s fine with it.”

  My jaw loses its hinge, and I do the fish speak thing with only air leaving my lips. With that, I spin on my heels.

  “Keep the ring, Jenna.” I hate that he sounds so utterly defeated. “It’s yours. And I’ll always love you.”

  Almost out the door, I say over my shoulder, “Don’t be too sad, Kenneth. I’m sure Horace will help you get over me.”

  There’s nothing his words make me feel except sad his dad is a total prick who would never accept his son
for who he is despite my words to the contrary. I leave the ring behind on the way out. It’s meaningless to me. There is no way I can keep it. My fantasy of a princess wedding is lost to me, but I couldn’t care less. Because if Brandon takes me back, I won’t be living a life of luxury. And I’m okay with that.

  Sixteen

  Jenna

  Leaving Kenneth’s is bittersweet, but I’m still in shock over what I witnessed. Of all the people, Kenneth is the last I ever would’ve suspected as being on the man-train. It’s a relief, yet I feel sad for him and his relationship with his parents. But I can’t linger too long on those thoughts. Now I have to deal with my own issues—my parents and how they will handle this.

  My first thought is to run straight to Brandon. But how would that look? I never want him to think I’m using him. And I want him to see me as a strong woman, someone who can face challenges without having to run to anyone for help. So I do the next thing I can think of. I call my bestie, Cate.

  “Hey, what’s up?” she asks.

  “You busy? I need you. Now.”

  “Come on. We’re not doing a thing.”

  Crap. I forgot Drew was with her. “Is there any way you can meet me at my place? I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Sure. I’m on the way.”

  I release the breath I’m holding. I have to admit, I was worried she’d bring Drew along.

  When I get home, my whole body is shaking. Not sure if it’s from what I’m about to tell Cate, or from the fact that I’m relieved, I sit in the car and wait. She finally pulls in behind me, and I get out. One look at my face and she knows something’s up.

  “What gives? You look … weird.”

  Grabbing her hand, I pull her into the house. Once inside, I turn to her and say, “The engagement’s off.”

  “You said what?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Why?” she asks, her forehead covered in creases.

  Suddenly, I’m guarded over how much I want to disclose. I never disliked Kenneth. In fact, I like him. A lot. And for whatever reason, I sort of feel protective of him, especially now that I know his parents will be giving him a difficult time. But this is Cate. I can trust her with my life.