Текст книги "Kiss Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

She should be a publicist when she grows up. She has marketed Jake to perfection. She’s made him into the new It boy in less than a week.

That’s what Vanessa was planning on doing to the lacrosse player that got hot over the summer. She wanted to parade him around school. Make them the next power couple.

Is there some top-secret Alpha guide somewhere? Because clearly Whitney and Vanessa are following the same handbook.

I have to walk in front Dawson and crew to go to the concession stand.

I really should’ve thought ahead and sent Dallas.

Tyrese, who is sitting right next to Dawson, yells at me, “Keatyn-baby, come here!”

I want to pretend that I didn’t hear him, but I’m like a dog; when I hear my name I can't help but turn my head toward the noise.

But guess what, boys? I’m not coming here.

I look at Tyrese, lift my chin in the air, give him a little princess-in-the-crowd wave, smile, and keep on walking.

I get to the concession stand.

Decide to feed my depression with food.

Buy two hotdogs and three types of candy.

I’m stuffing one of the hotdogs into my mouth, eating it quickly so that when I get back to the stands it will look like I only bought one.

My mouth is stuffed full when Dawson rounds the corner and beelines straight toward me.

Shit.

I chew as fast as I can and choke down a piece that is way too big to swallow—but I manage—and chug some diet Coke, seriously wishing it was laced with rum, as he says, “Keatyn.”

“Hey, Riley’s doing great tonight. You should be proud.” I try to walk past him. He grabs my arm, holding me back.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He hangs his head.

“Yeah, okay,” I say back. Damn him for having such adorable and pathetic-looking eyes. He stands there, looking at me. But I’m not caving. “Anything else you needed? I have to get this hotdog back to Dallas.”

“Yeah, there is.” He pulls me into his lips. His kiss is soft and sweet. It’s an I’m-sorry kiss. And it makes me feel surprisingly happy. “Can we hang out tonight after the game?”

Happy, yes, but I’m still pissed. “Sorry, I can’t. I have homework to do and posters to make for dance.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe me.

I’m not lying, though. I really need to do those things tonight. I’d be in big trouble if I flunked out of here.

“Okay, uh, well, see you tomorrow, then, I guess.”

“Sounds good.” I turn my back on him and walk back to the safety of my friends.

Once back in my seat, I notice two girls chatting enthusiastically a couple rows in front of us and a little to my right. “Hey, look, it’s Facebook official. Jake and Whitney are going out,” one girl says to the other.

“I heard that Jake is in line for the British throne. Like he could be King someday.”

“Oh my gosh. He’s so dreamy. It’s so not fair that Whitney always gets the hottest guys.”

“He is dreamy. And of course she does. She’s, like, perfect. I wish I was her.”

“Did you see those pictures of Dawson and the new chick?”

“Ohmigawd, I know. Were they not the most adorable thing ever? I want to hate her just because of Dawson, but it sounds like she’s actually nice, not a bitch like Whitney.”

“I bet Whitney was pissed.”

They both giggle and I stop eavesdropping.

So that’s what she meant by royalty being in style. Jake’s in line for the British throne? Interesting.

I wonder if it’s even true.

Where we stand.

10:05pm

Katie, Maggie, and I are lying on the floor of my room sniffing markers to try and get high—it’s not really working—and making posters to put on the Varsity football players’ lockers, when my phone buzzes.

An unknown number:  Scored 10

Me:  Who is this?

An unknown number:  Aiden

OH MY GOSH!!!! HE TEXTED ME!!!! HE GOT MY NUMBER SOMEHOW AND HE TEXTED ME!!! But I try to play it cool, replying, and adding his number to my contact list.

Me:  I was at the game. I saw. Good job.

Hottie God:  Would you be interested in 10 more dances tomorrow night after the game?

And I can’t help it. I scream out loud. Katie grabs my phone, reads the text, and screams along with me. Then she says, “Wait. Who’s the Hottie God? Is that Aiden or Dawson?”

“Aiden.”

“Personally, I think Dawson’s hot and Aiden is immature,” Maggie states.

“How is he immature?”

“This is the first time he’s texted you since last weekend. And, also, you should never say yes when a guy asks you out at the last minute. My sister says that’s how you know a guy is serious about you. He asks you out on Tuesday or Wednesday for the weekend because he wants to make sure you don’t make other plans.”

“So what should I tell him?”

“I’d teach him a lesson. Say, Oh shoot, I wish you would have asked me earlier, but I already have plans. You’re a woman in demand. Lots of boys want to ask you out, and he needs to learn to plan ahead.”

“But, in his defense, he just heard today at lunch that Dawson and I were through. Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask before.”

“You and Dawson weren’t going out. You were just hanging out. You shared a couple kisses. Big deal. He knows that. He still could have asked.”

“True.”

I don't want to do it, but I do. He can’t think I’m going to come running every time he decides to blow me a kiss or text me.

Me:  I really wish you would have asked me sooner. I already made plans.

Hottie God:  With who?

“Shit! He just asked me who I have plans with. And I don’t have plans with anyone! What am I going to say?”

“Well, you can say that we’re having a girls’ night,” Maggie offers.

“Except that I already told Tyrese I would hang out with him after the game. He asked me yesterday,” Katie beams.

“Well, shit. Wait. I know.”

I text Dallas.

Me:  Do you have plans for after the game tomorrow night?

Dallas:  Yes, I’m going to be checking your panties.

Me:  Good.

Dallas:  Wait?! Really?

Me:  Oh, I meant good, you’re free, not good about the panties. Want to hang with me and Maggie?

Dallas:  I’m supposed to hang with the guys, but I might have to do a panty check on this girl from my math class. She’s been flirting with me. But don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.

Me:  Shit!!!!

“What am I gonna do? I just lied to the God of all Hotties. And I know, even though he can’t see me, that he knows. I know he knows! What am I gonna do?”

Vibrate. Two new texts.

Hottie God:  I think you should change your plans.

Dawson:  Come outside, now. Please.

“Look at this! Look at this mess! What am I supposed to do with this?” I slide my phone across the floor in front of Maggie.

She reads the texts. “I think you should tell Aiden no. That he should ask you sooner next time, and tell Dawson you’ll be right down.”

“I also think you should tell Dawson you’ll be right down, but I think you should tell Aiden yes,” Katie disagrees.

Maggie considers this. “No, wait. See what Dawson says. Maybe he will ask you to hang out.”

“Wait, it’s okay for me to hangout with Dawson when he asks on Thursday night, but not Aiden? That’s not really fair, is it?

“Didn’t Dawson ask you to spend the whole weekend with him?” Maggie argues.

“Yeah.”

“So, tell Aiden no.”

I don’t wanna tell Aiden no.

But they’re probably right, and I’m too freaking confused to make an intelligent decision.

Me to Hottie God:  I can’t. Sorry. Hey, I gotta go. See you in class tomorrow :)

I end it with a smiley face, trying to soften the blow.

Me to Dawson:  Coming.

I go outside. Dawson is sitting on the brick wall, looking hotter than ever. He has on an old Cougars T-shirt that looks like it’s grown with him. Like it’s stretched perfectly across his broad chest. The short sleeves show off his muscular arms, and it fits tight against the sculpted abs I know are underneath.

“Hey,” I say, greeting him.

“You’re still mad at me, huh?”

“Not mad, but I definitely know where I stand.”

He kicks his feet, hops off the wall, and grabs me around the waist. “This is where we stand.” And he kisses me.

“I have absolutely no idea what that means.” I laugh because we’re really kind of a pathetic pair.

“I want to take us slow, but I also want to be with you. Look, we’ve both been confused and honest with each other about how we feel, right?”

“Yeah, so far.”

“Well, here’s how I’m feeling. I like you. I’m still getting over her. I’ve been kissing you in front of people, in front of her, even, and I’ve been fine with it, but seeing it in the pictures, well, it sorta caught me off guard. I was feeling good about it, but I wasn’t ready to see it. Look.”

He pulls a little box out of a sack that’s sitting on the wall. He opens it and shows me a bunch of loose photos. Of them. Him and Whitney, looking perfect. Like, seriously, every picture is perfect. Almost fake looking. Where are the adorable photos your friend snaps while you’re kissing? Why aren’t they cuddling?

“You’re a beautiful couple,” I tell him honestly, because they were.

“This is who I’m used to seeing myself with. And I know we’ve only known each other for a week now, but I’ve told you stuff I never could’ve told her, stuff I’ve never even told Jake. She and I were never friends. I worshiped her and then I dated her. ”

“Yeah. I can see that. That’s how you look at her. Like she’s better than you.”

“I kind of thought she was. Since you told me the truth about why she broke up with me things make a little more sense. She liked posing for pictures, and we kissed and had sex, but it really wasn’t that great. She’d be all over me in front of people, then we’d get alone and, sure, we did stuff, but it was different. It’s hard to explain.” He sighs. “Actually, it’s embarrassing.”

“Tell me.”

“Fine. I never really felt wanted. I was always trying to do stuff to make her want me.”

“Dawes, jeez, you ever look in a mirror? You’re gorgeous, hot, and amazing. Plus you can be really nice when you want to be. You need to start seeing yourself the way other people do. The way I do.”

“I think I’m starting to. Look.”

He pulls a frame out of the sack and flips it over. In the frame is the picture of us. The one Annie wants to enter in the contest.

“Annie gave me this tonight after the game, and she told me the camera can’t lie. So when I got back to my room, I really looked at it. And then I started looking at the pictures of me and Whitney. This picture. The way we’re looking at each other, the uncertainty. I knew what you were thinking when you kissed me. I knew you were unsure, and I knew why. I knew you knew I was unsure. When I look at the pictures of me and Whitney, I have no idea what she was thinking. I still want to take it slow. I still can’t tell you how I feel, but I’m thinking this picture has the potential to be better than what I’m used to. Please hang out with me tomorrow. Please try and come to the Hamptons this weekend.”

I don’t answer. I just jump into his arms and kiss him.

Crying yourself to sleep.

10:45pm

I stop kissing Dawson in time to make curfew. I’m back in my room, calling Mom, while Katie is down the hall.

“Hey,” I say when she answers. “I just called to say hey. And I was hoping to talk to the girls. Are you getting all settled?”

“Yeah, we’re getting pretty good at moving. Have it down to a science. Kym asked me what you’re doing for the holiday weekend. We never discussed what you’re going to do on school vacations.”

“I know, but it’s okay. I’m probably going to be in the Hamptons at some friends’ house.” I don’t mention that I’m also supposed to see Brooklyn. I have a feeling everyone would freak about that. But come on, I don’t really think Vincent is going to fly all the way to New York on the off chance I might be at B’s tournament.

“These friends. Are they nice?”

“Yes. They’re brothers. One is my friend, Riley. He’s one of the first guys I met here. I think he and I and this other boy, Dallas, are going to be good friends. At least, I hope so. And his older brother is gorgeous. Sweet. I kinda maybe like him.”

“Just make good choices, okay? It’s not just the stalker that can cause trouble for you. There are so many kids that get their trust funds, start to party, and spend all their money on drugs and hookers.”

“Hookers? Really, Mom?” I laugh.

“You know what I mean. I was thinking of this actor that I knew. He blew all his money. Got addicted. Now can’t get a decent role.”

“I’m not like that. You know that.”

“I know, but you could become it. It’s easy to get sucked into that kind of lifestyle. Okay, enough with the lecture. Tell me how it’s going. It sounds like you’re making friends.”

“I think so. There’s Katie, my roommate, and Maggie. They’re both on dance team with me and really nice. And Annie, she’s in my French class.”

“And the God of all Hotties?”

“He hates me. Well, no, he asked me to hang out tomorrow, but he waited until tonight to ask me. So I said no.”

“Why?”

“I have plans with Gorgeous. The brother. He’s really cute, Mom. Tall, dark, and dreamy. And he’s super sweet. And he doesn’t drive me nuts like the god. Want to see a picture of us? Annie, like before I knew her, took a photo of us. He was getting ready to kiss me. It was sort of our first real kiss. He’d kissed me before. Like, a little sweet kiss, but this was a real kiss.”

“Of course, I’d love to see it!”

“Okay, I’m emailing it to you. But you’ll have to delete it after you see it since we’re in our school uniforms and stuff. Or did Garrett password protect your computer too?”

“He did, but I’ll delete it just to be safe.” I hear her clicking then she says, “Keatyn, oh my gosh! Look at you! This picture is amazing! You look beautiful, and it doesn't even look like she edited it! Look at your skin! Oh, let’s take a moment to rejoice in your smooth, wrinkle-free skin. Seriously, look at it. Someday you will understand.”

“Um, okay.”

“Oh, also Kym told me that she’s putting together a few more outfits, some cooler weather looks, and she’ll be sending you a few care packets with boots and things. I think she’s having a ball with it.”

“I texted her yesterday to thank her and tell her how much I loved everything she’s put together. So, what do you think of Gorgeous?”

“He looks very sweet and vulnerable. It’s a very sexy look.”

“I know.”

“Do you even have clothes that are suitable for the Hamptons?”

“Oh, shit. I only brought one bikini and no, I don’t!”

“I’ll text Kym. She’s in New York. She’ll have something couriered to you. If she has it there by three tomorrow, will that work?”

“Yeah, thanks for thinking of that, Mom.”

“You sound like you’re doing okay. Are you really? Are you crying yourself to sleep? Are you having bad dreams?”

“No. I’m doing okay. Pretty okay. Mostly, I try not to think about it. Garrett told me that I may never get to come back. That I should start making my life here. So I’m trying to do my best.”

“Oh, I didn’t mention this before, but somewhere in all the stuff that Kym sent you were the birth control pills that we talked about when you were dating Brook. Did you find them?”

“No. I still have one box that I haven’t completely gone through.”

“Well, they will make your periods shorter. I just don’t want you thinking you can have sex with just anyone because you’re on it. And you should still always use a condom. It’s just like a back-up plan. Right?”

“I know. Thank you. I’ll find them and start them. Shorter periods sound great. So, Garrett told me stuff about Vincent, but no one has said anything about how you are doing. About the girls. Has he been in Vancouver?”

“From what I understand, he was all over Malibu. We kept the girls at home and brought their dance teacher in. The girls love it here. The house we’re leasing sits on a large piece of land. It’s very private, and they have lots of room to run around.”

“I’m glad. Are they still awake? Can I talk to them?”

“Of course. I was just getting ready to go read them a bedtime story. Would you like to read them one instead? You have most of them memorized.”

Tears fill my eyes. “I’d love to, Mom.”

I miss reading them bedtime stories. I miss how they smell just after their nightly baths and how adorable they look in their little pajamas.

I hear Mom walking across a wood floor then hear her say, “Keatyn is on the phone, girls. She wants to read you a bedtime story.”

She puts me on speaker and the girls all talk at once.

“Kiki, Kiki, we have a big house and a yard and we might get a puppy,” Ivery says.

Gracie says, “Me! Kiki, I talk now. We gonna name puppy, Kiki!”

“Kiki, Kiki, Kiki!” is chanted.

“What are you going to call me then?” I ask.

“Momma says you on a long ’venture. So we get to have puppy Kiki!” Emery explains.

“What kind of dog are you getting?”

Gracie says, “A yellow one! Just like Kiki hair!”

“A yellow one?”

“It’s Avery, Keatyn,” Avery says in an extremely grown up voice. I think with me gone, she’s trying to be the mature oldest sister. “We are getting a golden retriever just like Buoy.”

Buoy is Damian’s dog.

“Buoy has hair just like Kiki!!” Gracie screams. “We fix Kiki hair. We gonna brush Kiki hair. Daddy says we have to pick up Kiki poo poo!”

The girls yell. “Gross!” “Ick.” “Daddy is silly.”

Gracie says, “I tell Daddy we make Kiki wear pull-ups just like me!”

Katie walks in the room and sees me sitting on my bed with tears streaming down my face.

I can picture them all bouncing on their beds. I miss them. I miss their neck-crushing hugs.

“Are you okay?” she whispers.

I nod my head but cry harder.

“I have to go, girls. I’ll let Mommy read you your story,” I choke out.

Mom takes the phone off speaker. “I’m sorry about the dog, honey. We’re trying to talk them into another name.”

“It’s okay. Give them hugs for me.”

I hang up. Put my face in my hands and cry.

Katie sits on my bed and gives me a big hug. “What’s wrong?”

“My sisters are naming a dog after me.”

Katie starts laughing. And I can’t help it. I start laughing through my tears.

“That’s pretty freaking funny,” she says.

Friday, September 2nd

A safe place to go.

7:08am

When I check my email this morning, there’s one from Sam. He states that he’s successfully negotiated a deal on my loft. That the owners had already moved out and that we will close on it next week.

I smile. Then I almost start crying.

It sounds stupid, but the idea of having a home, a safe place to go, sounds so wonderful. I’m so excited. I ask him if I need to do anything. Sign anything. He says no. That he already has my power of attorney and he will take care of everything. In fact, he put such a large deposit down they already have given him the keys in case I want to hire a designer and get started. He told me I should get the keys in the mail on Tuesday.

I think about furnishing the loft. What I want. A comfortable bed and pillow. High thread count sheets, a pool table, flat screen TVs, bar, hot tub on the patio, maybe. I pull the floor plan up on my phone. I want the first floor great room to be the room I’ll entertain in. The cozy upstairs loft I want to be a quiet place to sit, watch a movie, relax in my pajamas.

I haven’t told anyone about the loft. I was afraid to upset Mom. I text Garrett.

Me:  I bought a house. Well, it’s a loft. I haven’t told my mom because I know she’ll freak. I thought it might be a good idea to have a safe place to go. That no one knows about. So far, only Sam knows. The listing said it has a security system, but I don’t know if it’s any good. Is this something you can help me with, or should I hire that on my own?

Garrett:  I’m proud of you! That’s a very smart decision.

Me:  Thanks :)

Garrett: I’d like to handle the security personally. 

Me:  Good. Another question. I know Kym goes to NY and sends me clothes from there and stuff. She has other clients besides Mom, so I know that’s okay. I need to have it furnished. She’s good at that. Do you think it’s okay to tell her? To have her go there? Help me? Hire a designer? Or should I do that myself?

Garrett:  My initial reaction is that I like the idea of no one knowing about it. Where is it?

Me: NYC

Garrett:  Perfect. A train ride and you can be there if you ever need to run. Let me get back to you.

Me: Okay, class is about to start, so I have to put my phone away anyway. Thanks, Garrett.

Saturday, September 3rd

Sleazy train wreck.

11am

I’m just getting to the surf tournament. I hired a car to pick me up from the train station and drive me here. I  have no idea when I will go to the Hamptons. I’m not sure how things will feel with Brooklyn. So I hired the driver for the whole weekend.

I chose my outfit for today very, very carefully. Well, I mean I chose it out of the stuff that Kym sent. I want to look like the Keats that B knows and says he loves, but I want to look more grown up.

Like, seriously, I feel like I’ve aged five years since I left home.

I pick my way though the crowd and look for Brooklyn’s tent.

I find it among the many sponsor tents and spy Brooklyn inside. My heart still does a little flip when I see him. He looks so cute.

I can tell he’s already been out surfing. The tips of his hair are dry, but it’s darker closer to his head. His bangs are hanging down in his eyes. He’s got on board shorts, my necklace, and a pair of sandals.

There’s a short line of girls waiting for his autograph. I watch him laugh, smile, and flirt with the girls.

Then I watch him sign a girl’s boob.

The next girl in line apparently doesn’t want to be outdone. So she turns around, wiggles her thong toward him, and gets him to sign one of her butt cheeks.

Then the three girls crowd around him for a picture. Two of the girls walk away, but the third one, who is sporting orange-tanned skin and huge fake boobs, grabs him and starts kissing him.

I can barely believe my eyes.

I get the autographs, but kissing?!

Why is he not stopping this?

And, ohmigawd, she’s, like, practically eating him alive!

Even worse, he doesn’t seem to mind. He wraps his arms around her and has his hands all over her half-naked ass.

The kissing finally stops. He gives her a huge grin. She gives him her number, and I feel like I need a shower.

Seriously?

I have the sudden urge to leave.

But I don’t.

I think it’s time to catch his attention.

I stand in front of his tent until he notices me.

I’m wearing a skin-colored macramé bikini. Little chunky turquoise and coral stones run down around my cleavage, and the bikini’s strings have little stones at the end of them. There’s a single long gold chain around my neck with a large turquoise stone. I’m wearing turquoise and straw colored platform wedges that are surprisingly easy to maneuver in the sand. Big gold Dolce & Gabbana aviators on my face. Gauzy white shirt, all unbuttoned. Straw cowboy hat in my hand. My hair in beachy waves.

He seems me, smiles, and checks out my bikini.

But he doesn’t recognize me.

Apparently he doesn’t notice the chaos tattoo on my hip, which is clearly visible, and an exact match for the one on his very own wrist.

I put my sunglasses on top of my head and smile back.

He takes a second look and his eyes get big when he realizes it’s me.

He leaves his line of admirers, runs up to me, pulls me into a big hug, and leans in to kiss me.

I totally turn my cheek.

“I just saw your make out session with fake boobs. You’d have to sanitize your mouth before I’d kiss you.”

He laughs, not seeming the least bit worried that I watched another girl shove her tongue down his throat, throws his arm around me, and leads me to his tent.

I stand around and watch while he finishes his autograph session. Watch girls fawn all over him, watch him loving it, and wonder what it all means.

But I know, just like Mom, if you’re going to be in the public eye, you have to do stuff like this. So I can’t fault him for it, and I shouldn’t take it personally. It has nothing to do with our relationship.

I mean, if we have a relationship.

Regardless, he’s my friend. I should be supportive.

But then he says, “Hey, I have to, uh, run somewhere real quick.” He puts his arm up and scratches the back of his head. “I’ll be back in a few. Uh, hold down the fort.”

I’ve known Brooklyn for a really long time and can read him well. The scratching of the head. The weird look in his eye.

There’s something he’s not telling me.

Plus, as he’s walking away, he glances back over his shoulder a few times. Like he’s making sure I stay put.

I know something’s going on, so I follow him.

I lose him in the crowd for a minute, but then I spot him. He’s talking to the big-boobed girl. I’m shocked when she lays a big kiss on his lips and pulls him into a changing tent.

About ten minutes later, they sneak back out. Him looking satisfied, and her just looking like a sleazy train wreck.

And I can barely believe it.

If you would have told me this, I never in a million years would’ve believed it.

I just saw it with my own eyes, and I still can’t believe it.

It’s one thing for him to kiss girls for publicity. It’s another thing entirely for him to be doing them in cabanas.

So much for his best friend love.

I’m so done with him. Like, forever.

I walk straight up to him and the girl. “It’s a good thing all we are to each other is friends, or I might’ve been really hurt by that. And I’d say, Have fun, enjoy your tournament, but you obviously already are. I’m outta here.”

I turn and walk away.

He leaves the girl standing there and comes after me. “But, Keats.”

He grabs my arm. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t leave,” he says.

I flip him off and continue walking toward the car.

He doesn’t follow me any further.

I hop back inside the dark-windowed town car, turn, and look for the driver. I had told him to wait here because I thought that after I talked to Brooklyn I would run my stuff to his hotel.

A crowd is still streaming in.

I’m getting ready to text my driver when a face causes me to look twice.

It looks like Vincent.

But it couldn’t be.

I look closer.

Shit. He’s got on the same yellow driving shoes he wore the night we had dinner.

It is him!

And he’s walking straight toward the car.

Straight toward me!

My first instinct is to hide.

I drop down below the window and start to shake.

What am I going to do? Should I call Garrett?

My phone. I go to the special app and hit it three times. 911.

The driver’s side door opens. I fall to the floor and try to make myself small.

Someone pats me on my back and I stifle a shriek.

The driver says, “Are you okay? Why are you on the floor?”

“Shut the door. And lock it, please,” I whisper. “These windows are tinted aren’t they? Can anyone see me in here?”

“They are pretty darkly tinted. Someone would have to be very close to see inside.”

I peek up, see Vincent standing literally right next to the car. He stops to check himself in the window. He takes off his dark sunglasses and fixes an out of place hair.

My heart has stopped beating. I can’t breathe.

I’m still in shock. I can’t believe he would actually come all the way here to look for me.

“Don’t move,” I whisper to the driver. “See that guy there. Checking himself out in the window?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t let him see me.”

“He looks like a actor,” the driver says. “Lover’s quarrel?”

“No, he tried to hurt me.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. What would you like me to do?”

“Don’t move. Keep the doors locked. Pray he doesn’t see me.”

Then I think about where he’s walking. Toward Brooklyn.

Shit.

My phone is buzzing. First a call from the spa and then one from Garrett.

I take Garrett’s call. I whisper into the phone. “Shhh.”

Garrett says, “Are you okay? Did you mean to hit the app three times?”

“I’m at Brooklyn’s surf tournament in New York. He’s here,” I whisper.

I look at Vincent. It’s hard to believe such a nice looking man could be so messed up. I can see why they let him go. Apparently he’s taken an interest in surfing. At least that’s what he’d tell anyone who asked.

He puts his sunglasses back on his face, but then he frowns and reaches in his pocket. He takes a call, walks over, and leans against the town car, talking on his phone.

“Oh my God,” I whisper breathlessly. “Please, please, go away.”

“Should I get out and tell him to get the hell off my car?” the driver says.

“No. Don’t move. Don’t even speak.”

We sit in silence while Vincent leans against the car. He’s having an animated conversation. I can’t really hear what he’s saying, but he sounds pissed.

He slams his fist into the side of the window and I jump about four feet into the air.

“That’s it,” the driver says. He opens the car door and says to Vincent, “What the fuck are you doing hitting my car?”

I dive further down into the floorboards as Garrett yells at me, “What the hell are you doing there?”

Fuck.

Why did he have to do that?

And he’s left his door open.

Vincent slams his phone into his pocket. “I’m sorry, sir. Just got a call with some bad news.” He turns and looks at the window. Literally straight at me. “It doesn’t appear I did any damage.” Then he reaches in his pocket, pulls out a wad of cash, and peels off a twenty. A picture drops out of the wad.

The driver bends down to pick it up.

Vincent says, “You been here long?”

“Only about an hour.”

“You happen to see this girl?” He holds my photo in front of the driver’s face.

I thought my heart stopped before.

I may literally be going into cardiac arrest.

Please, God. Please don’t let him be swayed by a wad of cash. Please let him say no. Please. Please.

Garrett yells in my ear again, “Keatyn, goddammit, answer me.”

“Shush.”

I hear the driver say, “I’ve seen a lot of pretty girls. Can’t say I’ve seen that one, though.”

“Thanks, anyway,” Vincent says. “Sorry about the car.” And he walks away.

The driver gets back in the car.

“I can’t believe you did that after I told you to stay in the car!”

“Nobody is going to hit my car and get away with it. He had a picture of you.”

“I was afraid when you saw that wad of money, you might tell him I was in here.”

“No way, Miss. I saw his eyes. He has cold eyes.”

“Yes, he does.”

“You ready to get out of here, I take it?”

“Yes. Please.” Then I say into my phone, “I’m fine, Garrett. We’re leaving. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

After he drives for about ten minutes, with me staring out the back window trying to make sure we’re not followed, I have him pull into a convenience store parking lot.

“I need to make a phone call,” I tell him, then step outside of the car.

I call Garrett back. Tell him what just happened. He puts me on hold to call B’s security team.