Текст книги "Reveal"
Автор книги: Elle Brooks
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
ARGUING WITH YOUR brother over a girl is something I thought I was done with since middle school. Cole asked out Erin Copeland an hour after I’d confessed to him I was working up to asking her to junior prom. A red mist descended and all brotherly love was forgotten as I walked into his room. I remember dragging him backward from his desk, and then we’d wrestled on the floor, hitting and kicking the shit out of each other ‘til Mom burst in and had to drag me off of him. She threw an absolute fit that we were fighting like mortal enemies and chastised us about being brothers first, beyond any misguided loyalties to a woman; family always came first.
Pops came home from work that evening, and when she’d told him what happened, he sent us out into the yard. He told us to settle it like men, get it out of our systems, and then shake hands and carry on. Cole gave me my first black eye, and I busted his lip. We called a truce and came back inside, just like we’d been told to. When we stumbled into the kitchen all bloodied up and Pops announced it was all sorted out Mom didn’t speak to him for the rest of the night. It wasn’t long after that they told us they were divorcing. It shouldn’t have shocked us as much as it did, and it wasn’t as if they had anything in common. Their parenting styles were as incompatible as they were.
“You’re fucking the girl I’m dating, Cal! What do you want from me? I’m not about to shake hands and tell you well done, have at it. I liked her.”
We’re not fist fighting now, but the words hurt just as much, if not more. “She told me this morning that you weren’t dating,” I tell him in a flat voice.
“Jesus Christ, not you as well. I had this with Robyn; the whole label thing is bullshit, and we all know it. We were dating, and she was playing us, seeing me and then sleeping with you. Open your eyes, Cal. I spoke to her last night when you left us in your office. Imagine my surprise when I found out that you’ve moved her in. She’s been living with you almost the entire time I’ve known her. It’s all so fucked-up they could make an entire Jerry Springer episode from this.”
I pull the receiver away from my ear. I figured calling would be a safer bet than attempting a face-to-face discussion. I think I made the right choice; he sounds as pissed as I feel.
“What are you hoping to garner from this conversation? Are you seeking my approval to date her?” Cole continues.
“I don’t need your approval to date anyone, dickhead!” I’m mad at myself, pissed off at Cole and I don’t even know how to qualify my feelings about Tweet at the moment. But I’m not about to let him talk to me like some kid asking for permission to date.
“I liked her, Callum. Jesus, I still like her, and all I can picture is the two of you together. I’m not alright with you two dating, or whatever it is that you’re doing, and I doubt I ever will be. I have shit to do. I’m busy trying to fix the fuckup I caused with my most valuable client, I don’t have time to waste analyzing whether she knew what she was doing or not. I need to go, talk to you later.”
The call drops and I toss my cell onto my desk, just as annoyed as before I called him. It’s 8:00 pm. She’ll be walking onstage right about now. I should stay in here, go over the books. Zane told me we’re sorted, but the last thing I can concentrate on is accounts, knowing that she’s in the next room. It’s a base urge, pure primal instinct, the need to go out there. I need to see her, even though I’m angry with her. I’d almost lost my head earlier when she told me she was going to collect her things and move out. While space from her would be helpful, there isn’t a hope in hell that I’m letting her go back to that apartment where she’s been attacked and broken into. No matter what’s happening between her, Cole and me, she’s not putting herself in that kind of danger again.
Temptation wins out, and the ability to resist is too much. I drop my feet from my desk and walk out into the club, heading straight for the bar. I tell myself I’m going to check in with Zane, but it’s bullshit. I know it, and so will he when he’s finished flirting with the blonde and her friend at the end of the bar.
“Hey, wasn’t expecting you down here tonight,” he says with a raised brow.
“What can I tell you? I just can’t stay away!” He gets my double entendre and shakes his head, hissing through gritted teeth.
“Whose company are you looking for tonight?” he asks, holding a bottle of scotch in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.
“I don’t need my head messing up any more than it already is, Zane. I’ll take a glass of water.”
His low whistle pisses me off enough to turn my head, and I look over at the stage on instinct.
She’s dancing, and even amidst the other girls that make up the chorus line, my eyes find her immediately. The magnetic pull she has on me is unnerving. I watch her from across the room, wondering how well an actress she is. Has everything between us been a lie? She wasn’t the one that initiated any of this; in fact, when I put more thought into it, I’m the one who’s pursued her at every opportunity. Her body moves across the stage like it was built solely to perform, and my eyes trace every movement. Watching her makes my pulse race, and my brain struggles to reason why she would possibly enter into anything with me knowing Cole was my brother.
The thought that maybe she was using me to settle her debts flitters through my mind and leaves as quickly as it came. That’s not who she is; I’ve watched her work her ass off for weeks, trying to figure a way out of her problems on her own. She’s not once asked for someone to solve them for her. She looked physically ill when I’d told her I would pay the bastards that broke into her apartment and left her the sick reminder that she needed to pay up. It doesn’t make sense that she’d play Cole and me, however I look at it.
The realization that I believe her explanation leaves me feeling dry mouthed and anxious all over again. I can’t let her walk out of here, especially not back to that apartment. I don’t know how I’ll put the thought of her and Cole out of my head, but I’m willing to try. I’m not ready for her to leave yet. I haven’t thought about being in a relationship with anyone since the moment Lisa confessed to having an affair. I was sure I’d never want to be in one again, they’re too much like hard work. You run the risk of having your world ripped wide open the moment you start adding emotions to sex. I hadn’t realized it until right now, but I’m so far gone with Tweet I couldn’t stop my feelings even if I tried. I know Cole will be pissed at me, but he’s going to have to come to terms with the fact that Tweet is going to be in my life—if she’ll have me. I don’t know what that means in terms of relationships and all that other bullshit, all I know is that I’m not ready, or willing, to let her walk away.
I KNOW THIS is a bad idea. I’m not a fool, but I’m also not a complete asshole. I can’t leave New York without at least trying to persuade Robyn to come with me one last time. Even if she doesn’t follow me to the West Coast, she could go back home to her parents, or anywhere she wanted for that matter, as long as it was far away from here. My conscience won’t allow me to leave knowing that she’s still here, being her stubborn self and not listening to my warnings. She can’t possibly believe that what I’m telling her is for her own good, or surely she’d listen. It took me all day yesterday to break Lucy into telling me where Robyn was living. I’d ripped the apartment to shreds looking for Robyn’s old telephone book; she likes to keep people’s numbers written down. She hasn’t trusted technology to sync her contacts correctly since the time she swapped her cell and lost everyone’s numbers. I didn’t find it, so after pulling at my hair in frustration, I bit the bullet and headed across the hall. I spent an hour begging Mrs. Heckles to tell me where she worked, only to hear a lecture on what makes a real gentleman, before she finally relented and admitted she didn’t know where it was. I decided to go find Lucy, but not before Mrs. Heckles told me Robyn’s new boss drove a motorcycle and could rival James Dean in looks. The old woman has finally gone senile, and I’m almost positive she was high.
I made my way to Lucy’s house, hoping she’d be able to tell me where Robyn was. I wasn’t expecting the punch to the face I received when she opened her door and saw it was me. I like Lucy and always have, but it took a lot of self-restraint to not hit her back. I’m not saying that I’d ever hit a woman, but Lucy punches like a man, she hits through an object, not like a typical woman. Her punch landed me square on my ass and sent me sprawling across the sidewalk. Once I’d gathered my wits, I had to plead with her for the name of the club where Robyn worked. I didn’t want to say too much but in the end I had no choice. Her loyalty is fierce, but once I’d explained that Robyn might be in danger, she gave the information up surprisingly quickly.
Now as the cab pulls up outside of Reveal, I look up at the building signage. Is she working as a burlesque dancer? I pay my fare, wishing that I’d walked. I don’t have the spare cash to be taking cabs, but then I don’t have time on my side either. Walking around Manhattan could get me spotted by the wrong people. I walk through the entrance into a dimly lit room littered with tables that look like they belong in a different era. The place is nice and classier than I imagined when I’d seen the word burlesque. The stage is empty, and I’m about to head over to the bar to ask where I might find her when I notice him. A cold chill races down my spine and the hair on my arms stands on end. I look around blinking in confusion and panic.
This can’t be happening, did Lucy set me up?
CALLUM IS AVOIDING me, and Cole hasn’t acknowledged the messages I left on his phone last night. I wanted to air the whole truth about my situation, so at the beep I spilled the details of my messed-up existence over three phone messages. It turns out there’s a limit to the length of the message you can leave. I didn’t know that, but then again, I normally spit out my name and number with quick instructions to call me back, not attempt to detail the trials and tribulations of my current relationships. It was my effort at providing a rationale as to why I was so closed off in the beginning, and how Callum and I found ourselves sleeping together. I’m not sure what reaction I expected from my admissions, but I did expect a reaction. The silent treatment is beyond tormenting. I want to send a message to check if he got my messages. I don’t do well with being left to stew; it’s making me stir crazy.
I hoped I’d get a chance to talk with Callum more, too, but that didn’t happen. I haven’t seen him since walking out of his room before going to meet Danny. I need to pay Carter the money I owe him in 48 hours. I haven’t got it, and speaking with Daniel only confirmed what I already knew. I’m in way over my head and sinking fast. I need to ask Callum to loan me the money to pay off the debt. It’s beyond disrespectful and rude, given how things are between us at the moment, but he was adamant about settling the debt. I can’t let him do that, and after exhausting all my other options, the only thing I’m left with is to ask him to loan me the cash. I’m hoping he’ll agree if I tell him to withhold my wages until it’s all paid back.
I never sleep in, but my alarm clock is flashing 10 am, and I reluctantly rise from my bed and stumble over the bags I packed last night after my shift ended. I’ll call Lucy later. I need to charge my cell before I leave today. It died not long after I’d messaged Cole. I’d already packed my charger, and didn’t have the heart or energy to go rummaging through my stuff again. By the time I’m showered and dressed, Callum has materialized at my bedroom door with two cups of coffee in hand. I guess the shock is evident on my face by the small smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth as he passes me a mug.
“Sleep well?” he asks and I feel like I’ve entered into a parallel universe, where none of the crap from the last three days has happened and we’re back to being Cal and Tweet.
“Not at all, you?”
“Pretty terribly, thanks for asking.” He takes a sip of his coffee, and I stand dumbfounded in my doorway, not knowing how to act. He peers around me, craning his neck to see inside my room.
“My stuff is packed; I just need to power up my cell and call Lucy to come collect it.” Maybe he’s here to find out when I’m going? “I’ll be out of here by this afternoon.” I finish.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
I’m mid-sip, and I swallow a huge gulp at his words. The coffee burns a blazing hot trail all the way down my throat and into my chest. The heat is stealing my ability to form a response. There’s an overly long pause, and I guess that Callum feels the need to fill it.
“I know things are awkward, but I can’t let you go back to your apartment and I—”
“I’m not going back to my apartment,” I interrupt and his head rears back in surprise. “I’m going to stay with Lucy for a while,” I finish.
His head bobs in understanding and I swear I see relief cross his features.
I hold up my coffee. “Can we take these to the living room?” I need to ask him about the loan and standing in my bedroom doorway seems like the wrong place to do it. Plus, I don’t trust my legs not to give out when he’s around.
“Sure.” He gives me a small tight smile and then turns and heads down the hall. God, how do I even broach the subject of him lending me thousands of dollars when we can’t even engage in a normal conversation at the moment without it feeling awkward as hell? My hands are shaking as I follow him; the movement is so prevalent that I’m spilling my drink as I go, and I have to remind myself to take deep breaths. I hate this sense of helplessness. I watch as he sits down, sinking into the cushions of his dark gray sofa. He’s wearing all black: black socks, black jeans, black t-shirt. I’m wondering if he’s changed his communication methods and taken up reflecting his moods through his clothing rather than his music. I sit down as far away from him as I can on the sofa and angle my body toward his so we can talk. I place my cup on the coffee table in front of us—I don’t trust myself not to spill the rest of the contents all over me, my hand is trembling so badly.
“Spit it out, Tweet. You look like you’re about to pass out,” he says and he wouldn’t be far wrong. I feel like I’m about to pass out. The air in here feels too heavy to breathe.
I watch as his eyes dart from side to side looking at me, like I’m a book he’s reading.
“I need to ask for your help, Callum. Lord knows you’ve done so much for me already, and with what’s happened I know this is beyond uncouth, but I have no one else to ask.”
I’m wringing my hands together, trying to build up my courage.
“Tweet, I’ll always help you, no matter what’s going on between us. What is it?” his voice is soft and sincere. I have an almost overwhelming urge to cry.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” I say in awe.
He places his cup on the table and shuffles closer to me, taking my trembling hands between his solid, safe ones.
“It kills me that you’d even question it,” he says.
My whole body feels like it melts and turns to liquid. How does he do that with just the touch of his hands and a simple sentence?
“I need to ask you to borrow the money to pay back Mr. Carter. I know it’s a huge amount of money, but I have some saved so it wouldn’t be the full ten grand. You could withhold my wages until it’s paid back,” I rush out in one long labored breath.
“I’ve already told you, I’m going to take care of this; I thought you understood that. I’m going to make the payment to Carter, and I don’t want you anywhere near when I do. And you can forget about surrendering your wages. I’m not like one of these assholes. You don’t have to pay me back until you’re ready; I don’t care how long it takes. Fuck, I don’t care about the money at all, Tweet. It’s your safety that concerns me; cash isn’t the be all and end all.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, and my heart feels as though it stutters in my chest. I don’t know if it’s what he’s just said, or the relief that he obviously doesn’t hate me like I’d thought, but I blink and feel hot wet tears trail down my face.
“Shhh…don’t cry, Tweet,” he says as he pulls me into his chest, and it has the complete opposite effect: I cry even harder.
“Y-you can’t,” I splutter, choking on my tears.
He squeezes me a little tighter, and I melt into him, breathing in the smell of him and feeling protected in the cocoon of his arms.
“It’s not up for negotiation.”
I look up at him as his lips descend and land softly on top of mine. He doesn’t move them, there’s no attempt to kiss me, it’s purely an act of comfort and it works. I can’t remember the last time I felt so reassured by the briefest of touches. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem, after all.
THE MESSAGE ROBYN left me weighs heavily on my mind along with the way I ended my last conversation with Callum. I don’t have time for distractions at the moment; I’m in damage control mode with Jeff Michaels and the constant thoughts of Robyn are an unwelcomed intrusion. I need to get my head back in the game and focus on my goals. The partnership at the firm is hanging in the balance, and I’m so close.
Throwing away the last eighteen months’ worth of work because of a woman is insane when I say it to myself out loud. But I’ve let Robyn cloud my judgment and infiltrate every part of my life, instead of keeping her firmly within the realm of out-of-office recreation. My regard for her was bordering on obsession; she’s all I could think about. I’m not entirely sure that it wasn’t the chase, and the fact that she was so reluctant to fall into my bed that fueled my interest so readily. I liked her; hell, I still like her, but I love my job, and it’s suffering because of this twisted situation I’ve found myself tangled up in. The thought of her with Cal makes me recoil, and my stomach churn; I know I could never have anything with her now even if she were willing. She’s tainted. You don’t go where your brother’s been; it’s an unwritten rule. If Cal wants to disregard it, that’s up to him. I don’t like it. Actually no, I more than dislike it, I hate the idea, but it’s his choice to make.
I have my driver pull up outside Reveal. I have an hour before I need to be back in the office, but I want to put this issue to bed so I can at least push it out of my mind until the Michaels’ case is tied up. Once that’s over I can deal with all of this when I have the time to process what’s what. I tried calling Cal before I came down here, but it went straight to voicemail. I called Dad to see if Cal was already at his house, but his nurse Lynda said he’d called her earlier to say he’d be coming this afternoon instead. I’m assuming that Robyn will be here too, either working or upstairs in Cal’s apartment. I walk through the club toward the stairs by Cal’s office. Zane and some other guy seem to be in some heated conversation, so I make haste and get out their way, heading straight up to Cal’s apartment.
I wish I’d used the external entry now, but it’s habit to come this way. I glance back as Zane, and whoever it is he’s talking with make their way over to what I think is the cellar door. I’ve not seen the guy around the club before, but Callum had mentioned needing more staff a few weeks back, so I’m guessing that’s the new guy. By the look Zane was giving him, I doubt he’ll be around long. I’m about to knock on the door when Robyn and Cal open it, clearly leaving, and we stand there, all three of us occupying the same tiny space in the cramped stairwell.
“We’re heading down, Cole. You here to see me or Tweet?” he asks cautiously. I hate that he calls her Tweet; it’s another little nagging reminder that he knows her far more intimately than me. I swallow my jealousy and spin on my heel, making my way back down into the bar.
“Both of you, briefly if that’s okay. I’m running low on time; it will work out well if I can kill two birds with one stone.”
“Sure, head down to my office. No one’s in this morning,” Cal says.
“Zane and your new guy are already here, I just passed them,” I tell him. “I think they headed down to the cellar.”
“New guy…you mean Jordan?” he asks, confused.
“No, it wasn’t Jordan. I haven’t seen him around before, I just assumed he was new staff.” I move around the bar and head for Callum’s office. We sit and talk far more civilized than the last time we were all in here. I thank Robyn for at least explaining what was going on and shedding some light as to why she was seemingly saying one thing and doing another. I’m trying to apply the same methods I do when I’m in a meeting with a client. No matter what my emotions are, how I feel about what’s being said needs to be internalized.
I can’t change the past; I can’t undo the fact that the girl I want has been sleeping with my brother. There’s no use in attempting to fight for someone who doesn’t want to be fought over. Even if I did win, I would never be able to suppress the nauseating feeling her sleeping with Cal causes. Sometimes in life you need to accept that you’ve lost, and no matter how much it pains you, be gracious in defeat.
I don’t like the situation we’re in at the moment, but at least know I have a better understanding of it. Robyn’s fidgeting, but her demeanor appears much more relaxed after hearing me out. Cal, on the other hand, looks skeptical. He’s probably waiting for a snide comment, or an indication that this isn’t over. He’s not going to get it. He’s not exactly my favorite person at the moment, and a little distance will give me a chance to calm down.
I’m about to leave as Annie knocks on the door just before slipping her head in and asking where Zane is.
“Cole saw him head to the cellar. Why?” Callum asks.
“There’s a guy here looking for him, he looks like an MMA fighter!” She laughs while grimacing.
“We’re finished in here, right?” Callum retorts, throwing a glance at Robyn and me. We both nod in agreement. “I’ll be right out,” he tells Annie.
I reach out and give him a loose hug; it’s awkward, but it’s all I can muster at the moment. I turn and nod at Robyn and she gives me a weak smile that feels like a kick in the chest. I push away the discomfort and head for the door. I need to get back to the office.
“Catch you later,” Cal calls as I make my way out and into the club, checking my watch.
“What the fuck do you want?” Callum snaps and I look up, startled at his sudden icy tone. The guy on the receiving end of the frosty welcome is a huge, mean looking son-of-a-bitch with cold eyes fixed on Cal. I look to Robyn, who’s frozen in place; fear clearly evident in her stilted expression.
“Well, well. Look who it is,” he sneers. “I’m here to see Zane.”
“I watch Callum’s fists ball and I know something’s about to kick off. I flex my wrists, ready to step in if need be.
“Annie, shout for Zane to come up here,” Cal orders and she nods quickly from behind the bar before making her way over to the cellar.
The bar is eerily quiet; you could hear a pin drop. Annie walks back, and the sound of heavy footsteps and deep breathing are the only sounds registering throughout the room. I’m eyeing Callum, willing him to give me some clue as to what he wants me to do, but he’s too busy eyeballing the giant standing to the left of me.
“Are you okay, Robyn?” I ask quietly, and her face shifts toward me, her head giving the slightest shake. I don’t know what’s going on, or what’s about to happen, but the tension in here could be cut with a knife. The cellar door opens, and Zane steps out with the guy I saw with him earlier. He takes in the look on Cal’s face and then follows his line of sight to the guy next to me. I watch closely as Zane’s nostrils flare and his eyes widen before his face smooths out.
“Robyn, what the fuck?” the guy with Zane huffs and all eyes swing toward her.
“Daniel w-what are you doing here?” she stammers.
“Daniel!” Cal roars.
I wish someone would clue me in on what the fuck is happening right now.
