I get a whiff of sweat and BO, and my nose crinkles in distaste. An undeniable hatred of this place and how it reminds me of who I used to be rises up, and I have the urge to hunt Rian down and punch her in the face for bringing Alec here. He’s worth so much more than this.
“Hey,” Liz says, setting a hand on my shoulder, nearly startling me out of my boots. She really doesn’t look good. “I found them.”
My eyes widen and I follow her gaze to a couple dancing near the back of the crowd. Alec is so much taller than Rian, but it doesn’t stop all their body parts aligning in a way that sets my teeth on edge. I take one determined step in that direction, but Liz reaches out and pulls me back.
“I’m all for a scene, but you were against it at the restaurant. So…think for a second.”
Right. If I’m going to be a crazy bitch about this, I may as well be thorough and think through all the possible scenarios. I want to be sure that no matter what happens, they don’t kiss, and he comes home with me.
I watch them in a jealous, green daze. Damn it, why didn’t I just say it three weeks ago? Why didn’t I let the words fall from my tongue and into his heart and let him know softly, quietly? Grand gestures are great only if everything falls into line perfectly.
“Um, Theresa,” Liz prods, “you better decide fast.”
I blink, and suddenly Alec is spinning Rian around so they’re facing each other. Their faces are close, they’re talking, he’s smiling. I can see the whites of his teeth, which match the glowing white collar of his undershirt. Liz snatches my wrist, her fingers hot.
“Make a beeline for him,” she hisses. “Grab his arm. Drag him away.”
“But what about Ria—”
“Trust me.” Her eyes are wide, and the greenish hue of her skin prevents me from arguing. She pushes through the crowd in the opposite direction, toward an exit door. Oh God, the poor thing is sick, and here I am trying to sabotage a silly auction date.
I refuse to look back at Alec and have that ignite my selfishness, and I start after Liz. I make it two steps before the entire club goes black.
Except for the lightbulb over my head.
I turn around as quick as humanly possible and storm toward Alec, running into shoulders and boobs and many other body parts. The club buzzes with groans and laughter in equal measure, and I prick my ears for that one laugh I’m so familiar with. I can hear it, I can, and I follow the sound, blindly searching for what’s literally right in front of me.
An arm knocks into my stomach, and I cough from the force, eyes watering.
“Sorry,” I hear from my right, and my cough turns into a gasp. It’s Alec, right there next to me, and I reach out without thinking. I get a good grip on soft fabric, and without another thought I pull him toward me.
“Alec?” I say, and I feel him shift in my hold, stepping closer to me. He doesn’t smell right, but I did cover him in food at his last stop and the mixture of odors in the club is messing with my nose. A hand runs up my arm and cradles my face, a thumb tumbling over my lips. My heart beats completely out of my chest, and I let out a large sigh, relieved that he’s finally in my grasp, alone. Well…alone enough. I can pretend here in the dark, and it makes it easier.
“Let me say this to you, please,” I say over the noise of the still-buzzed crowd. “When the lights come back on we can deal with who you’re actually here with. But Alec, it was supposed to be me. I asked you to do the auction so I could bid on you. I love you, and I’m tired of being just friends. I’m ready for more if you’re ready for mo—”
“Oh yeah, baby, I’m ready,” the owner of the thumb on my cheek says, and sudden dread and a wash of fresh embarrassment rush through my stomach. I jerk away from the foreign touch, ramming into someone behind me. I fumble around for my phone, clicking it on and switching on the flashlight. The guy in front of me has long hair and looks more like Mick Jagger than Alec.
“Oh dear God,” I choke out, rushing away into the blackness of the club to get as far away from fake Alec as possible. I’m completely turned around and have no clue where I am in relation to the front door, let alone Alec and Rian. Once people see that I have my phone’s flashlight on, they start pulling theirs out to light the room, but even with all that, I can’t locate Alec, and I can’t find Liz either.
I sigh and push through, hoping I’m headed toward an exit. I end up being three steps away from one. Stepping out into the fresh air, I’m quickly reminded of why I need a jacket tonight, and I’m grateful I kept mine on. I yank out my red scarf and wrap it around my neck as I search the area. I step around the corner and onto a side street where there are cabs and one big-ass limo parked along the curb. A few feet down the street is Liz in her puffy pink coat, crouched down and breathing like she’s about to give birth. Her eyes connect with mine and her brow pulls down.
“You’re supposed to be kissing Alec right now,” she says, her tone annoyed and frustrated, and I find my hackles rising defensively.
“I professed my love to some random asswipe because someone didn’t tell me what she was doing.”
She stands up straight, her mouth a thin line. The paleness of her skin is really scaring the hell out of me.
“I told you what to do. All you had to do was go straight forward.” She extends an arm. “Five, six steps and you’d have had him. But no. You started following me like a dumbass.”
“What did you just call me?” I spit out at her. She ignores me.
“I told you to grab him!”
“You didn’t tell me I’d be blind doing it!”
“Look, you wanted help with this whole grand gesture, and I’m helping you. I should get a little gratitude, damn it. I gave you your opening, but you blew it. Now we’ve got to follow them to the next activity and try to stop them from tonguing in front of your fragile ego.”
“You talked me into this crazy shit.” I point accusingly at her, heat storming inside me. Liz and I have fought many times—it happens when you’re friends for over twenty years—so I know she’s just blowing off steam and this really isn’t about me. But I’m not in the mood to be her stress recipient.
Her eyes start watering and she wipes furiously at them. “I didn’t expect you to muck it up.”
“Will you stop yelling at me?” I throw my hands into the air. “God, you sound like Shay with all her pregnancy hormones.”
Her expression softens so quickly I immediately regret my outburst. “Well…I mean…I am late,” she murmurs.
Shocked, I can’t say anything for a second. When I finally find my voice, I sputter, “What?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she quickly puts in. “Like, I’ve been late before. All the time now, actually. Every month for seven months, late, late, and, you know, negative test results, then bam—a period. But I mean, it’s later than normal this time. And my boobs hurt and I’m nauseous, but not in the morning, I’m nauseous at night. Like right now I feel like I could puke in the gutter with all the boozies, and my feet hurt and I just cry at nothing and everything—”
“Liz!” I gasp, trying to contain my sudden grin. Forget our stupid fight. This is what she’s wanted for so so long, and she just might be…
She widens her eyes and points at me accusingly, as if my joy is utterly blasphemous.
“No! It doesn’t mean anything. I can’t think that it’ll mean something. There are other reasons for it. PMS makes boobs hurt and emotions run wild, and I just can’t do another month of hoping and thinking that no period means a baby and then have nothing but one line on that damn test, and I can’t look at Landon again and tell him that there’s nothing in there but an empty uterus and a broken egg, and I don’t want to go through it anymore, I don’t want to, I don’t…”
I pull her into my arms, my shoulder muffling her sobs. After she moved to California, I felt sorry for myself, wishing she were here for me, but now all I wish is that I’d been there for her. She’d only briefly touched on the subject of trying to start a fa
mily, and never mentioned the heartbreaking disappointment she felt every month when she pulled a negative pregnancy test. She’d always joked about it, saying that she’d just get to try more sex in the upcoming month. I should’ve known there was something she was hiding underneath the optimism.
“Go home,” I tell her. She sniffs and pulls back.
“I’m fine. Just emotional.”
“Go home and take a test. If there’s no baby this time, it doesn’t mean there won’t ever be, okay?”
“What about Alec? And that bitch about to steal your man?”
“I got this.”
I don’t. I think I’ve lost my mind, to be honest, and who knows what other covert shenanigans I’ll get up to tonight. Each attempt is only making me more and more desperate to keep those two apart. My feet are itching to run around the corner to the front of the club so that I can find them and follow them somewhere else.
She lets out a long sigh, cringing at an enthusiastic drinker leaning against the building, close to passing out or throwing up. “Promise you’ll keep fighting for your moment?” she asks. “Don’t let her take him from you.”
I nod defiantly, though I’m wondering in the back of my mind if he’s really mine at all. Then a wave of confidence washes the momentary self-doubt away as I remember our last night together, the one I’ve tried to relive every free minute I get. Alec’s mine. I’m his. He just doesn’t know it yet.
I get Liz into a cab and send her to the train station. Then I call Liz’s phone to let Landon know she’s on her way home and he might want to be there. When I click off, I notice a guy smoking an e-cigarette, leaning against the limousine, staring right at me. He seems to be the only sober person in the vicinity, with the exception of the cabdrivers. He doesn’t fit the bill for a chauffeur, but he’s leaning against the limo like he’s waiting to drive someone around. He gives me the classic guy head bob, and I get ready to put as much distance as possible between us.
“Hey, hold up,” he says, clicking off his cigarette and tucking it into his pocket.
“Sorry, I’m taken,” I throw over my shoulder, not slowing my pace. I’m not in the mood to talk to another somebody I don’t know.
“Yeah, I heard.” He pushes off from the limo. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. You want to sabotage this date he’s on, yeah? And it looks like you just lost your co-conspirator.”
I stop, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Who the hell are you?”
He smirks, sticking a hand out. “Sorry, manners aren’t a specialty of mine. My name’s Jackson.”
“Theresa.” I shake his hand. “But you still haven’t really answered my question.”
“I’m Jackson, Rian’s personal chauffeur.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he tilts his head toward the sweet ride behind him. “And I’m absolutely in love with her. Feel like hiring a replacement co-saboteur?”
Chapter 19
PRESENT DAY
The front seat of a limo isn’t as roomy as the back, obviously, but I manage to squish myself between the dash and the passenger seat, head covered by a jacket that smells like electrically charged strawberries. On closer inspection, I realize it’s Jackson’s e-cigarettes.
He told me to stay down and covered until Rian puts up the partition. The longer I stay cramped in the footwell, the better I feel, because that means there’s no private backseat limo stuff happening.
A couple of doors slam shut, jolting the limo and making me bang my head on the bottom of the glove compartment.
“Hey, Jackson,” Rian says after a few minutes. “Take us to the roof court.” Hmm, her voice is so much more polite when it’s not directed toward me, yet I still have the urge to lunge from my crouch and throw down with her National Geographic style.
The limo jolts as Jackson puts it in gear, and I hear the partition rolling up with a ziiiiipah. I chance a peek from under the smelly jacket.
“All clear,” he says. “Buckle up. I don’t need a lawsuit on top of everything else.”
I climb up into the passenger seat, knees cracking as I stretch out my legs, my dress stuck in my butt crack. I adjust as discreetly as I can, thankful Jackson has the decency to keep his eyes on the road.
“So where’s this place we’re going?”
He runs a hand over the wheel and stops at the noon position. “Abandoned building.”
My seatbelt clicks into place, and I flip my dress over my exposed thighs. “An abandoned building? Doesn’t scream romance, exactly.”
He shakes his head, his scruffy jawline clenching as he makes a turn. “Rian’s painted a mural up on the roof. It’s…personal. She’s not taking him there just to show him decrepit scenery.”
I quickly glance over my shoulder at the soundproof partition that’s the only thing separating me from Alec right now. A restaurant patio and a sketchy club weren’t his scene, and I don’t think I truly felt the concentrated surge of urgency until this moment. An abandoned building, a train station, a messy kitchen…doesn’t matter what the backdrop is, because if you’re being completely real with him, he will reward you for it.
“How do we get up there?” I ask, eyes back on Jackson.
“On the roof?” He gives me a side smile. “Well, she’ll take him up in the elevator. The fire escape is a little unreliable.”
“No stairs inside?”
“The door locks from the outside at the top. So we could climb the five stories and have a good rest at the top without having a clue as to what they’re doing on the other side.”
I huff. “Well, co-conspirator, I’m open to suggestions, since you seem to be shooting down everything I say.”
“I’m not going to condone anything counterproductive.”
“Ooh, smart guy uses big words.”
He tilts his head thoughtfully to the side. “Why can’t Theresa get the man she wants? It’s a mystery.”
I run an anxious hand through my mess of hair, blowing out a frustrated breath. He has no idea how many counterproductive things I’m not doing for the sake of making this evening a success, arguing with him being one of them.
“Maybe we should fake a breakdown,” I say, watching the light in front of us turn from yellow to red. Jackson stops so smoothly that it feels as if we were never moving in the first place.
He gives me one, hard shake of his head. “Not giving them that opportunity.” His eyes flick back to the partition before he slams them shut and curses. “It’s damn near killing me, thinking about what’s going on back there right now.”
An image of Rian’s purple head in Alec’s lap invades my scheming train of thought, and I slam my own eyes shut, shaking my head to get it out.
“Thanks for that,” I say to Jackson, my pained tone surprising me.
When I open my eyes I get the first taste of empathy in his gaze before he lets his eyes drift back toward the windshield.
“We’ve got one mile.”
“Okay.” I nod. We can think of something. Jackson said this date can happen as long as it doesn’t escalate. He’s not looking to pick a fight with Rian tonight by so blatantly interfering, so if we keep it quiet, make sure we get them to midnight with minimum chemistry, then we can make our moves. I don’t know about him, but I’m not waiting more than one second after midnight to tell Alec how I feel.
I look at the clock on the dash, stomach dripping with disappointment when I see that there are still several hours to be had of this horrid Valentine’s Day.
“All right,” he says, slowing down to the curb. “Get under my jacket.”
“What’s the plan besides me hiding?” I ask, unbuckling and crouching back into my wedgie-inducing hiding spot.
He tosses his jacket at my head. “Gotta keep eyes on them. So think of something under there.”
God, he’s fired. At least Liz had ideas. When I hear the limo’s doors and Alec’s voice, I press my face into my knees, the jacket slipping slightly. Get to the roof—that’s my plan. Stairs and ele
vator are out, so I’ll take the fire escape and watch my step. Alec is worth braving a little wobbly steel.
The driver’s door opens and the jacket is whipped from my head. “You weren’t completely covered,” he says with a bite of annoyance, “but I don’t think they saw.”
I wiggle my way across the seat and plunk my boots down on the cement sidewalk. “Which building?”
He nods at the one with the broken chain-link fence, a faded NO TRESPASSING sign dangling from it. I squint into the darkness, studying the stairs I need to take to the top. If I hurry, maybe I’ll beat them up there.
“You stay with the limo. I’ll tale the eagle eye.” I check the tightness of my boots. “If they start kissing, I’ll create a diversion.”
“Do you like your boyfriend’s face the way it is?” he asks. “Because if you do, you’ll create that diversion before they kiss.”
“Noted.” Should I let him know that every time I see the object of his affection I want to punch her boobs in? No, I’ll let that be a pleasant surprise for all of us.
I take a deep breath and hold it as I squeeze through the opening in the chain-link fence. What is it with this girl taking Alec to very smelly places? After one breath through my nose I choose to forgo that way of getting air and let my mouth drop open. The shadows dance on the walls of the buildings I’m sandwiched between, and I quickly look back toward Jackson. He’s watching me with intense eyes and puffing on his e-cigarette. He looks fast. I can hold off attackers long enough for him to get to me and help. As for ghosts and demons, well, he’s probably their leader.
The side door Alec and Rian must’ve taken is cracked open, and I take a peek around it before sprinting past it and up the first steps of the fire escape. So far it’s fine: no creaking or groaning, and very little swinging. I look up and see a couple of missing steps above me, but I can easily jump them.
The next flight is okay, and the one after that. But once I hit the fourth set of stairs and the entire structure begins to sway, my bravado vanishes and my stomach plummets. I let out an involuntary yelp and squeeze against the railing, my head hitting brick. I wait an excruciatingly long minute until the metal framework stops its wobbly dance, then tentatively crawl up the remaining stairs. I’m grateful when I reach the ladder that is nailed securely into the wall and doesn’t creak or move as I step up rung after rung and swing over the edge of the rooftop.