Текст книги "Something True"

Автор книги: Jessica Roe

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Chapter 3

Ibbie

 

“SO, HOW'S THAT show of yours going?” my cousin, Sabrina, asks distractedly as we make a very late dinner after the two of us have gotten home from work – and by make dinner, I mean we scavenge for leftover takeout in the fridge. I don't think Sabrina really cares about my show, but she always makes sure to ask whenever we briefly see each other around the apartment. As a lawyer, Sabrina probably works even harder than I do and is home way less, and that's saying something. She's pretty awesome in that ball busting, career woman way. Most people look at her and see this tall, blonde haired model lookalike and they never expect much from her. It's kind of her secret weapon because the second she hits the courtroom she's like BAM! Take that bitches! Yeah, my cousin kicks ass. I was stoked when she offered me her spare room in her apartment after I finished college, especially since I love Hell's Kitchen so frigging much.

“S'good,” I mumble around a mouthful of cold pizza. I could go into it more, but I don't think she's actually that interested.

“I should come see it sometime. I've always liked Cinderella.”

So sure, maybe she isn't the most attentive of listeners when it comes to anything that doesn't involve her job, and maybe she doesn't actually have much of a clue about my life even though we live together, but I forgive her since she's so busy ridding the city of criminals and all. She's like Daredevil, except she's not blind and she doesn't dress up as a ninja at night and kick bad guy butt. I think. I mean, who knows? The girl's hardcore.

“Yup.” I don't bother to tell her that it's Pride and Prejudice, mostly because I already have like, a squillion times. Besides, we both know she's not really coming. I still appreciate the pretense though.

My pocket buzzes with a text, and Sabrina laughs at me as I immediately drop the gross pizza to phone grope myself. I expect it to be Aleix, because he's texted me after each of my shows this week which is just all kinds of sweet.

 

Yo, loser. Going out with my brother again?

 

Ugh, definitely not Aleix. I really shouldn't text Walt back because it just encourages his bad behavior, but I always find myself doing it anyway. He brings out the inner bitch in me.

 

And that's your business because?

“How're things going with your new guy?” Sabrina kicks off her killer heels and sits down on the metal swivel stool in her stylish kitchen.

Because I think you should leave my brother alone. He's too nice – you'll corrupt him.

I roll my eyes. This guy makes me roll my eyes so much I swear one day they're going to drop right out of my head. “It's going good,” I tell Sabrina. “We're having a lot of fun.”

Aleix and I have been out a couple of times since that night we met at the bar. He's cool about my schedule, because he has a pretty busy one himself. We've grabbed lunch once or twice and he's taken me out for drinks and dancing after one of my shows. I like him. I like him a lot.

Mind your own business, butt head! And stop texting me!

 

Aleix is nothing like his irritating younger brother. I don't even get how the two of them can be related, to be honest. He's the perfect gentleman, for one thing. He holds open doors for me and pulls out my chairs – whereas Walt would probably slam the door in my face. He's sweet and nice and he treats me like a lady. And he'd been to my show twice. Twice! Walt has never been to my show, not once. Every other one our friends have been except him. Even Fábia has seen it. EVEN FÁBIA!

You'd miss me if I didn't text you anymore. Go on, it's okay to admit it.

 

Like a hole to the head, you big spazoid.

 

Stop flirting with me, you're embarrassing yourself.

 

Vom.

 

It's obvious that you want me. No point denying it. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Except everyone we know.

 

God, even when he's not here he still drives me crazier than anyone I've ever met.

I want you like I want a flesh eating venereal disease. STOP TEXTING ME!!

 

+++

 

“HEY!” I GREET in surprise when Aleix meets me at the dressing room doors the next day. I don't think he's supposed to be back here, but he could probably charm his way into a nun's panties as long as he flashed that gorgeous smile. Do nuns even wear panties? Would Aleix think I was weird if I Googled that right now?

Saturdays are usually a two show day, but our evening show was canceled tonight which means I have a rare free evening.

He leans down and kisses me sweetly on the lips, then hands me a bouquet of red roses. They're beautiful, though roses have never been my favorite – I've always thought they were a little boring and very predictable. But it's a sweet gesture, and there's a hot guy giving me flowers so I'm sure as hell not complaining. “Hey yourself.”

“I didn't know you were coming to the show today.”

“Oh, I didn't. Missed it, unfortunately. But I finished my client lunch earlier than I expected so I thought I'd surprise you.”

“Consider me happily surprised.” Reaching up on my tippy toes, I kiss him again. His lips are warm and soft and delicious.

Hannah and Ellie, who play Elizabeth and Jane respectively, walk by us on their way out and giggle. They wink at me when I catch their eye. “Bye, Ibbs. Have fu-un!”

I grin back, because I know exactly what kind of fun they're talking about.

“So are you still free tonight?” Aleix wants to know.

“Actually no. Jemma's hosting a dinner party at Reid's place and she's gone completely nutso about it-”

“Their first dinner party together?” he guesses.

“Yuh huh. Appearance is mandatory. She made Reid buy a big dining table and everything. You could come though?”

I'm nervous for a moment, because this is the kind of date you invite your boyfriend to and not just the guy you've been casually hanging out with, until he smiles down at me. “That sounds great.”

+++

You look like crap tonight.

 

I glare at Walt across the dining table, but he only smirks at me in response. That guy is just shifty, that's what he is. I bet he pours the milk before he pours his cereal. People who pour the milk first can never be trusted.

Jemma's gone ever so slightly cray cray about this dinner party tonight since it's her first grownup shindig, so unfortunately we're on our best behavior which means I can't reach across the table and throttle Walt like I so desperately crave. Not unless I want to be maimed by my best friend's sister. And Jemma would do it, she is that psycho. Walt, however, is making things very difficult, as usual.

Well you look like the devil. So no change there then.

 

It's sad how much you want me.

 

Aleix eyes me and the phone suspiciously, so I shove it in my pocket and do my best to ignore his aggravating brother, because side-texting at the dinner table ain't cool.

“Thanks for letting me come last minute, Jemma,” Aleix says politely.

She waves her hand airily. “Oh, it's no problem.” It actually was a problem. When I showed up with Aleix in tow she dragged me into the kitchen and whisper yelled at me for ten minutes straight because I'd messed up the seating arrangement. Seriously, ten minutes straight. About the seating arrangement. I mean, for frigging frick's sake! After a while I'd started to become genuinely concerned that she was going to damage her throat.

“This is delicious – you're a great cook.”

That makes her swoon like a southern belle – Aleix is really good at the whole charming thing. I get a feeling I'm already forgiven. “I love to cook. My mom taught me.”

“She taught you well.”

“She offered to teach Blair too, but Blair thinks emptying soup out of a can counts a gourmet meal so clearly there's no hope for her.”

“Hey!” Blair protests, but she's grinning. “I can cook.”

“Yesterday you had to call me to ask how to boil an egg.”

“Eggs are hard!”

“Naw, baby. I love your cooking.” Silver kisses her cheek sweetly.

She pats his curly hair. “And I love it when you lie to make me feel better.”

“I'm the best fiance ever,” he agrees. It's only been a couple of weeks since they got engaged, but so far he's been slipping the word fiance in whenever he can. It's seriously adorable.

Blair turns back to Jemma, payback in her eyes. “So does this fancy dinner party mean you guys are thinking of moving in together?”

Jemma's cheeks go a bright red. “Blair! No-”

“Sort of,” Reid interrupts with a little grin. One of his large hands comes up to rest on the back of Jemma's neck.

She glances at him in surprise. “Sort of? What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means I've been moving you in slowly, getting you used to the idea before I make it official.”

A shocked laugh escapes her. “What are you even talking about?”

“You haven't noticed yet, but every time you stay over I've been getting you to leave more and more of your things behind. I figured by the time you realized, it would already be too late to stop it.” That's the thing about Reid – he can be sneaky, but he isn't afraid to own up to it. “At least half of your stuff has got to be here by now.”

“That's true,” Dahlia agrees. “Do you know how annoying it is trying to steal clothes from you when your wardrobe is mostly empty? I knew I was gonna end up losing my roomie before the year was out.”

Jemma's head shakes back and forth slowly. I think she's in shock. “But I'm not-”

“Please, when was the last time you slept at our apartment?”

Blinking, Jemma turns back to Reid. There's a cautiously hopeful look on her face. “So. . .you want me to move in with you?”

For the first time, Reid seems worried, as if he's afraid she's going to turn him down. The only time I ever see Reid lose that wall of confidence is when it comes to Jemma. “I do.”

“Then why didn't you just ask me?”

He rolls his eyes. “You kidding? You remember how hard it was getting you to just date me? I wasn't prepared to let you run away from me again.”

Her smile is bashful now, yet elated. Scooting her chair closer, she wraps her arms around his waist and lays her head on his shoulder. All of her craziness from hosting has melted away like ice under the sun. “Okay then.”

Reid tries to fight a smile. “Okay then what?”

“I'll move in with you.”

He grins and kisses her. “Like you had a choice.”

“You guys are so frigging sweet,” I say, holding out my glass. All of my friends are growing up. “Toast!”

Everyone clinks glasses – even Walt, though he doesn't seem happy about it.

Another one bites the dust.

 

Don't be so mean. That was cute.

 

“Who're you texting?” Aleix wants to know. I think it's irritating him that my attention is elsewhere. It's irritating me too.

“Just an annoying pest.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Walt replies grumpily. He does everything grumpily.

Comprehension dawns on Aleix's face and his brows furrow together. “You're texting each other? Right now?”

“He started it,” I say childishly.

“Don't you think that's a little weird?”

“I think she's a little weird,” Walt adds unhelpfully.

“Nu uh!” Jemma warns the pair of us. She points her finger at both of our faces, waggling it back and forth. “No bickering tonight, not when I'm so happy right now.”

“Sorry,” I reply contritely.

She raises a menacing eyebrow at Walt. Back when she first met him, I know Jemma was intimidated by him – it's hard not to be – but now he sinks into his seat and actually looks sheepish. “Sorry, Jem.”

“That's better.”

Changing the subject, Reid starts telling us about a new client of his who's determined to get the faces of the Harry Potter movies tattooed across her back, and I almost manage to ignore Walt for a whole five minutes. It's a glorious five minutes.

So, given it up to my brother yet?

 

If I wasn't so scared of being bitch slapped by Jemma, my drink would be all up in his face.

None of your business. Jerk.

 

I haven't had sex with Aleix yet, but Walt sure as hell doesn't need to know that. I mean, we've fooled around a little. Okay, a lot. He came back to my place after dinner one night and there was some definite rolling around going on beneath my sheets, but we didn't go all the way. There were one or two pretty nice neargasms though.

Fine, I'll just ask him.

 

He wouldn't tell you anything. I know him better than that.

 

Walt scoffs, and a couple of people around the table turn to him questioningly.

“Got something stuck in my throat,” he lies, and I have to stifle a laugh.

You haven't even known him two weeks.

 

Why do you even care?

 

His eyes meet mine across the table then, and for the briefest moment there's a flicker of something in those impossibly dark depths. Something vulnerable, something raw. Something I've never seen before, not in him. But then it's gone so quick I decide I must have imagined it, because Walt. . .he would never look at me that way. Like I was the very air he needed to breathe.

I don't. I don't care about you at all.

Chapter 4

Ibbie

 

WHEN ALEIX STOPS calling and texting and starts ignoring my messages, I'm not super pissed. I mean, it's only been a day and I'm not a clingy freak of nature. He's probably just busy at work.

On the third day, I'm ever so slightly miffed. Because rude much?

By the time the fifth day rolls around, I'm just hurt. We may have only known each other a few weeks but we'd been having a good time and I'd thought he liked me as much as I liked him.

I start getting worried on day number six. What if he had an accident and hurt himself, or what if he got so sick he isn't even able to pick up the phone to call? Okay, that's a stretch, I know, but still the thought keeps running through my head on a revolving loop.

On the seventh day I gather up all of my resolve and I do the unthinkable – I swallow every last bit of my pride and I go see the one person who might be able to give me some answers.

Walt looks understandably surprised when he opens the door to see me standing on the other side. I had to use every last bit of charm in my arsenal on the stuffy old doorman downstairs to get him to let me up without buzzing first, because I knew if we'd buzzed then Walt probably wouldn't have let me in. The only reason I even know where he lives is because I was with Jemma one time when she picked him up on our way to meet Reid.

He's so shocked to see me that he doesn't even manage to come up with a snide comment like he usually would. It's a refreshing change.

“Ibbie?” he asks. What is he expecting? For me to unzip my face and reveal that I'm somebody else like one of the villains from Scooby Doo?

“Sorry to drop by unannounced,” I say, scuffing my converse against the carpeted floor. “I stopped by Reid's tattoo shop and he said you weren't working for him or Digby today.”

He blinks. I've never noticed before how long his eyelashes are. “You were lookin' for me?”

Well duh almost slips right out of my mouth, but then I remember that I'm here for his help. “Yep.”

“You wanna. . .uh, you wanna come in or somethin'?” He looks about as uncomfortable as I feel.

“Yes please.”

Without another word, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

My lips press tightly together as I step inside Walt's apartment for the very first time. It's way nicer than I expected – it's not the fiery pits of Hell, for one thing. But the place is smart, in a modern, manly kind of way. Wooden floors and black and blue furnishings, with an entire wall made up of windows. Very bachelor.

Stacks of canvases lean against the walls, some empty, but some filled with beautiful swirls of color. I move forward curiously to check them out but Walt hurries over to turn them away from my prying eyes. For a moment I bristle, thinking he's doing it to be rude, but then I catch the faintest tinge of pink on his stubbly cheeks and I realize that he's embarrassed.

He's wearing a black vest which clings to his sculpted body. On one side, the snake tattoo created by Reid curls around his arm, and even though that's incredible in its own right, the other side is what never fails to take my breath away. From the top of his shoulder right down to his hand is one continuous work of art, a masterpiece. Starting with the intricate tattoos of the sun and the moon and the stars at the top of his shoulder, to the birds mid flight as they escape a terrifying dragon on his bicep, to the flames and the swirls of patterns with small words and phrases worked in that I've never gotten close enough to read on his forearm and wrist.

“I didn't know you were an artist,” I tell him. “I mean obviously I knew you were an artist, because you kind of have to be if you're going to be inking people's bodies and all, but I had no idea you did other kinds of art too.” Wow. Ramble much?

He shrugs, not meeting my gaze. His hands are covered in black charcoal dust, and I see an open sketchpad on the table behind him.

“Can I see?” I nod towards the sketchpad.

A look of panic flits across his face. Without even turning back, he reaches behind him and flips the pad closed, then stands in front of it protectively. This Walt, he's so strange and different to the cold, snarly guy I'm used to. He's almost. . .shy? He folds his arms across his chest, making the muscles in his arms bulge. I'm pretty sure the snake on his arm just winked at me. “No. It's private.”

“Okay then,” I reply slowly, because I'm ninety nine percent sure the real Walt has been abducted by aliens and replaced with this stranger.

“So what do you want?” he demands roughly. “Isn't it enough that I have to see you when we all hang out?” Ah, there's the Walt I know and hate.

“What, you're not gonna offer me a beverage? A snack? A comfy chair by the fire?”

“I would, but I don't want you getting any ideas. Like that you're welcome. Because you're not.” And the verbal punching begins. “This is a princess free apartment.”

I hold my hands up in the air. “Okay, can you just. . .find your silence for like, two seconds. Please?”

He rolls his eyes. “Seriously, what do you want? I'm not having sex with you, if that's what you're after.”

“First of all – ew. Very, very ew. Huge ew. Gigan-”

“I get the point.”

“Right. Second. . .” My voice trails off as I suddenly become extraordinarily embarrassed about why I'm here. In Walt's apartment. What was I thinking? He isn't going to help me.

“And second?” he encourages impatiently.

I heave a sigh, deciding to just get it out there already. Unless I actually want to have sex with him, there's no other valid reason as to why I would be here. “I wanted to know if you knew whether Aleix was okay or not.”

His face loses all of that coldness, all of that harshness, as soon as I mention his brother's name. I've noticed that, that he seems to really care about Aleix in a way I hadn't even realized he was capable of. Honestly, I'd kind of suspected he didn't actually have a heart. Just a lump of clay or play doh or ball of licorice or something. I wait for him to be an ass, to make fun of me or say something sarcastic, but he doesn't. “Aleix is fine. When was the last time you spoke to him?”

It's my turn to shrug. I lean against the back of his leather sofa, staring down at the wooden floor. “Later ago. He hasn't answered any of my calls. I thought maybe he. . .I don't know, maybe he was sick or something. It was stupid. I don't know.”

He's silent, and when I finally gather the courage to look up at him I find not a trace of ridicule in his eyes like I'd expected. He just appears genuinely confused. “He's stopped contacting you?”

Now I feel really foolish. If Walt doesn't know anything about Aleix being sick then it's probably because he's not sick. Or hurt. He's just done with me. We don't even know each other that well – I only see him when he's working in the city, and it's not like I've ever even been to his house or anything. “Yeah.” I start moving towards his door. “I'm sorry. Coming here was a mistake. Can we just pretend this didn't happen? I guess I was confused-”

“Ibbs,” he calls after me, and it immediately stops me in my tracks because he's never called me that before. With him it's always a mocking nickname, like princess, and that's if he even bothers to address me at all. Hearing him call me Ibbs is strange – like a term of endearment that sounds foreign coming from his lips. He seems to realize this too, because he fumbles over his next words. “Ib. . .I mean, Ibbie. . .I mean. . .” He sighs. “Just let me give him a call, okay? There's probably a good reason for this. Aleix likes you, trust me. I had to fuckin' hear about it for days. And even if he doesn't wanna hang with you anymore, he's a good guy. I'm sure he would've talked to you about it.”

I hesitate, but eventually give him the go ahead. One way or another, it would be nice to just know.

“He's not answering me either,” he announces a minute later, a little furrow forming between his brows.

“Okay, well I'm gonna go-”

“Wait,” he interrupts almost desperately, like he really doesn't want me to leave. Who is this guy? “I was headed down to my grandparents' house in a while for dinner – we always have dinner together once a week. Aleix should be there too, and even if he's not, he lives in the same town as them. Come with me and we can find out what his deal is.”

I shake my head violently, because that does not sound like a valid plan. I mean, I liked Aleix and all, but we only hung out for a few weeks. Stalking him all the way to his grandparents' house? No frigging way. “It's fine, Walt. You go, and I guess if you see him just tell him to call me or something-”

“Come on, Ibbie.” When he smiles at me, it's so unbelievably captivating. It's not perfect and charming like Aleix's deal winner smile – in fact, it's crooked and devious and full of sin – but when it's aimed my way, it makes me feel like I'd agree to anything in the whole wide world. It's the first time he's ever smiled at me instead of smirking. “It's only an hour away. Live a little. Come on an adventure with me.”

I take a step back, because I'm not sure I can handle this Walt. The mean, cold, butt head Walt – sure. The sweet, decent, persuasive one – nuh uh. Not on my watch. “I have a show tonight.”

“So call in sick. You have an understudy for things like that, right? It's just one show.”

I hesitate again, because this seems like a really bad idea. And yet he's making it sound like a really good one. How does he do that? “I don't-”

“Look, worst case scenario – Aleix ain't there and you get to stay for dinner. My grandma makes the best pot pie, I swear.”

Actually, the worst case scenario seems like it would be me turning up and Aleix calling me a freak and a stalker. “You want me to have dinner with your grandparents?”

“Sure.” I don't know who this Walt is. This Walt that smiles at me and invites me to family dinner and is nice to me and seems like he genuinely wants to help me. It's eerie. But at the same time, I find that I. . .that I trust this Walt. Is that stupid? Maybe. But I still do.

“Mehkay,” I hear myself saying. And even though I feel like I'm going to regret this, I don't take my mediocre acceptance back. Especially not after he grins at me like I've made him truly happy. “Let me just call the director.”

He nods. “I'm gonna go wash up.”

The director, Ian, picks up on the very first ring. He's the kind of guy who has his phone practically superglued to his ear. He seems particularly suspicious about my chosen excuse. “You only just remembered it was your mom's birthday?”

“I'm a very bad daughter,” I confirm.

“Hold up, didn't your mom have a birthday last month?”

“Um.”

“Your mom seems to have a lot of birthdays, don't she?”

“She's like the queen that way.”

Luckily for me, I've caught him in a very good mood. He's probably been boinking his assistant again. “Look, I know how much you  love the show, so I'm gonna go ahead and assume that whatever it is that you need to do tonight is important. But just this once, you hear me? Call in with an excuse one more time and you're fired. Seriously. I want you here even if your arms and legs have dropped off and you're having to drag your limbs in behind you with your teeth.”

I cringe at the imagery. “Thank you, Ian! Loveyouloveyouloveyou!”

He hangs up.

The shower is running somewhere in Walt's apartment, and I want desperately to use the opportunity to check out his artwork. But I resist, mainly because I like nice Walt and I don't want him to catch me snooping and revert back to the asshole version of himself.

When he appears a few minutes later, my mouth drops open at the sight of him. In his tan slacks and his blue and white striped shirt and with his hair combed neatly back, he looks. . .normal.

But as handsome as he looks, I find that I miss the regular old Walt. The one with the ripped jeans and the too tight t-shirts and the spiky hair.

“What?” he demands self consciously when I can't stop staring. He hasn't taken the eyebrow rings out. I'm glad about that. “I told you we're going to my grandparents' place. I gotta look smart or I won't hear the end of it off of Grandma.” There's something so fond in his voice when he talks about her, and it makes me melt. Just a little bit.

“You do look nice,” I assure him. “PFM.”

“What now?”

“Pure friggin' magic. You've transformed from the devil into a nice young man.”

He just shakes his head at me, like he has no idea what I'm about. I find most people tend to look at me that way when I talk.

I glance down at my jeans and baggy cardigan, then up at him again. This will not do. “Okay, if I'm meeting your grandparents then we have to stop by my apartment first. I so need to change.”