Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion #3) (8 page)

“The lawyer?” one cries.

“The hot lawyer,” another corrects.

“He is hot.” Charlie nods with feverish delight. “And I can tell you like him. Your whole face lit up the second you heard his name.”

Melanie leans back almost incredulous. “Do you like this person?”

Mel knows me, in and out, better than anybody in this room. I’ve confided more in her than I ever did Reese, partially because I would rather have my eyes and mouth sewn shut than share my mother’s dicey history with my stepsister. I’m sure Reese has her own ideas about my mother. I don’t need reality brushing the already rusted patina off her threadbare perceptions.

“Yes—
no
.” A flood of emotion bubbles through me as the truth wrestles with a lie. It’s as if there’s a light inside me, a very small pinhole of goodness begging to break through this dark basement I’ve sequestered the real me in. “Of course, not.” Goodness will never win.

“You do.” Mel’s eyes widen. Her cheeks blotch red as if I’ve just slapped her. “No, it’s okay. I just thought we were close.”

“I haven’t exactly been on campus. Anyway—regarding my feelings—the jury is still out on that one. And, all legal jokes aside, I’m not in a rush to get my heart broken again. But when I do decide it’s time, Caleb McCarthy won’t know what hit him.”

The room breaks out in a dull roar as the girls all offer their goodbye hugs, their congratulations on my new relationship as if the take-down-Keith-Stearns-burn-book gathering just morphed into my engagement party to Caleb.

I scowl over at Reese and Brylee as they snicker in the corner.

“I’ll call you,” Mel mouths the words as I head out into the damp night air that smells heavy of earth and roses.

“Wow.” Brylee shivers as the door closes behind us. “That, right there, is the primary reason I never joined the Barbie Brigade. It was Stepford city in there for a second. You’re obviously the queen bee in charge of all the mindless drones. Did you have them turn in their souls on initiation day?”

“Yes. And I’m about to extinguish yours. Caleb? Really? Did we need to go there? Don’t answer that.” I rub my arms as we head back toward married housing. It’s true, though, I see Brylee’s point regarding my sisters. Whether I like it or not, taking this semester off has provided a little perspective on the sorority as a whole. As much as I like being respected and looked up to, I also like my independence. I never was a fan of the cattiness involved.

“Ken”—Reese pulls me into an abnormally long embrace—“please tell me you won’t do a single thing those girls suggested. It’s trite, juvenile, not to mention half those things were highly illegal. Take what’s left of your dignity and move on. Charlie was right. Being happy really is the best revenge. And if you happen to fall into—”

“Caleb,” Brylee cuts her off with a whisper as if she were trying to send me some subliminal message.

“I get it. You both think Caleb is the answer.”

“I like the sound of that.” A deep voice booms from behind, and I cringe.

I pivot slowly on my heels and find a smiling, handsome as all hell, dimples digging in, eyes glowing like lust-fueled lava, Caleb McCarthy.

My stomach catches fire at the sight of him. A jolt of electrocution spasms through me. Having Caleb catch you off guard is the equivalent to sticking a fork in the socket.

Brylee leans in. “I might have forgot to mention that I’m staying over at Reese’s tonight. I have a study group for Poly Sci in the morning.”

I openly glare at Brylee and Reese a moment before frowning at the boy—the man who consistently knocks the breath out of my lungs each and every time he’s around.

“I guess I need a ride back up that mountain.”

His eyes brighten into the hottest kind of flames, cobalt with a cool touch of navy. “I might know the way.”

I bet he does. I bet he knows the way to the deepest chamber of my heart as well.

He does.

I think that’s what scares me most.

T
he dark velvet
night clings to the car, to the mountain, like a second skin as Kennedy and I make the steep, twisted climb back to Loveless. I’m fairly certain I’ve sworn a time or two that I’d think twice before taking this road at night. It’s a two-lane highway with just enough headlights coming at you to ensure you’re driving blind for at least half the trip. My father hated coming up this way. He preferred the back with its less invasive incline, but it takes twice as long and—well, shit. Why didn’t I head that way again?

“How did the meeting go?” I slouch in my seat, trying to look casual, not slightly fearful to hear what she might say. As her attorney, I would have advised against addressing her sorority just yet, but, then, Kennedy doesn’t quite regard me as her anything at this point.

Kennedy hasn’t said two words since we got in the car. I’m not sure why she’s so cold and distant—other than the fact her ex put her entire life in a blender. I’m glad I’m here for her even if she’s not feeling the same. I want to help her get through this. I know how it feels to have life mince you to pieces then leave you to figure out what you’re going to do with the scraps.

She gives a heavy sigh either wary with me or uncertain how to answer. “I asked the girls to give me some ideas on how I can further turn Keith’s existence into a seventh grade revenge fantasy. It went from bad to worse before I ever walked through the door. It was childish. Nothing I’m proud of.”

That alone affirms my theory of why she shouldn’t have gone. Now there are dozens of witnesses should she decide to follow through with any part of that seventh grade revenge fantasy, and I’m hoping she won’t.

“I’m sorry it didn’t go as you planned.” She’ll have to give me more than that. I’m not quite sure how to extract any information out of Kennedy. It’s like trying to squeeze juice out of a barbed wire ball and filling the glass with your own blood.

Filling the glass… That should do it.

“You up for a quick drink?” I keep my gaze steady on the road. Kennedy is shaken, a feral version of her former self. I’m afraid if I slow down just enough, she might try to leap out of the car, tumbling all the way down the mountain just to get the hell away from me.

Her dark hair moves from side to side as if she were contemplating this, decoding my words, sifting through them like wheat.

“I’m dry at my place,” I clarify. “I was thinking more like the Poison Barrel.” The Poison Barrel is just at the end of the pier next to the Blue Crab restaurant—both on the east side of Loveless where most of the small shops and businesses are. The lone movie theater on the lake sits like an ancient relic doing its best impression of a ritzy chalet. “Maybe after, we can catch a movie?” There. If the drink didn’t scare her off, the thought of sitting next to me for two hours straight should do it.

“I’d like that,” she whispers so low I’m wondering if I imagined it.

My lungs fill with relief. “Let’s do this.”

We hit the Poison Barrel and hop in. It’s dark and rowdy inside with a cover band spitting out country songs on a loop. Zoey is the first thing we see from the entrance in her low cut dress that shows off more than her cleavage. She’s nursing a beer, laughing it up with a dude the size of a linebacker wearing a ten-gallon hat, eyeing the mechanical bull in the center of the room as if it were her favorite pet.

“Well, look who’s here? Her vibrator must have run out of batteries.” Kennedy doesn’t miss the opportunity to take a swipe, although, in all fairness, Zoey made it simple.

We sit near the back, and I order a scotch, dry, and she asks for the same, I’m assuming to keep the order easy, but in an egotistical way it makes me that much more amorous of her. I’m already too far gone for my own good. Abel used to warn, don’t fall too hard for a girl. Before you know it, you’ll be eating concrete. I suppose it’s a long way down from cloud nine. Abel ate concrete a few times too many. Now he just sleeps with any willing female as long as they’re near and tight. He’s not too picky, neither is Solomon. My stomach sours at the thought of my little brother and the hell he’s going through. I try to expel him from my brain, but I can’t seem to do it.

“What’s wrong?” Kennedy takes the drink from the waitress just as I bring mine to my lips.

“Family stuff. Nothing interesting.” Nothing uninteresting either. Nothing good nor bad, it’s just fucked. I down the Scotch in one solid hit and Solomon and his shit parade evaporate right along with the burn. “That’s better.” I lift my empty glass as if saluting her. “Your turn.”

“My family? They’re not interesting either.”

“What’s up with your sister?”

“Reese?” Her silver eyes flick away at the thought. “Little Miss Perfect? I love her to death, but I can’t say the green-eyed monster doesn’t rear his ugly head on occasions. She’s both lucky in life and in love. She’s the opposite of Zoey—hell, she’s the opposite of me. I bet she doesn’t even know how to turn on a vibrator.” She pulls the glass to her nose and sniffs at her drink. A very greedy part of me wants to see her down it—wants to pour it over her chest and lap it up for her. New item on the bucket list, get shit-faced while sucking good liquor off Kennedy Slade’s porcelain skin. Done and done. I wish it were that easy.

“I meant your other sister. Kamryn, did you say?”

“Kam.” Her gaze slices out the window, dismayed at the mention of her sister. “Yeah, we’re not so close. I bet she doesn’t know how to wield a vibrator, either.” She lifts her drink in my direction. “She’s a little uptight.”

I’d ask her if she’s queen of the vibrator, but given the circumstances of her case I’ll refrain.

“Has she contacted you through any of this?” You would think her sister could lay aside her differences to help Ken get through this. Most would—even if they’re a little uptight.

“She might have tried. I might have tried to pretend it didn’t happen.”

A frown comes and goes on both our faces—hers in tribute to her fickle sister and mine due to the fact Kennedy has a way of being loose with the facts.

Once Ken told me where she was headed this morning, I made a point to move up the research I had planned on doing down at Yeats. Turns out, people didn’t have the best things to say about Kennedy. She didn’t exactly leave a positive impression on her peers. There were a few common threads that resonated among those I spoke with, and mostly that had to do with her integrity. I’ll admit a red flag went up, and I can’t figure out how the hell to lower it. I don’t need my clients to be saints, but something in me has always seen Kennedy as flawless. I’m not ready to have the white flame that burns for her in my heart be tainted. I’m not sure it can be.

“I think that’s enough talk about family.” Her lashes flutter, and she dips her finger in her drink, stirs it slow and seductive. She touches it to her lip and licks away an amber drop with a quick scoop of the tongue.

My body aches just witnessing the event.

That sugar high only Kennedy can induce starts to set in, and I change the subject before things get too out of hand. “I have an appointment to speak with Keith.”

“What?” She lurches forward. Her forehead breaks out in a series of worry lines as if I just told her I tossed a sack full of puppies out my car window.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. He actually made the appointment to see me. It’s an odd move. I’m not sure his attorney realizes this. Anything rogue or unexpected that his client might do will only benefit us. We’re going to get those sick videos down. We’re going to get Keith to cooperate, and things should start moving our way.”

“You can’t speak to Keith.” She swallows hard making her neck jump. My mouth waters just looking at that long, slender pillar. “I forbid it.”

I let out a dull laugh, the soft buzz from the scotch just kicking in. The band starts up, a somber rhythm that’s rich with lyrics riddled with country grief.

“Come on.” I pull her up by the hand without offering her an out. “Let’s get one song in before we hit that movie.”

“What is it with you and the dance floor?” She manages to look repulsed by the idea of boot scootin’ with the best of them, but I have other plans. I pull her in tight and move my body over hers as if it were the slowest song in the world. There are so many bodies twirling and whirling around us, no one seems to notice that we’re slightly out of rhythm. I take in the sweet scent of her hair, far more intoxicating than a barrel full of scotch. Kennedy holds the scent of wild flowers, of jasmine and gardenia, of every good fragrance that God put on this earth. Memories of her sweetness are what got me through the long, hard months between those magical summers, and the drought years I spent in New York that followed. But I saw Kennedy everywhere. She was in the clouds, a reflection on those mirrored Skyscrapers, a floating image resting on the sea. And she was always laughing. There is nothing better in this world than the sound of Kennedy’s melodic laughter. She is always in on the joke, keeping the rest of the world an arm’s length from discovering what it truly is. I want in on Kennedy’s life.

Nope, we are not out of rhythm.

Not by a long shot.

“I think I’m going to kiss you,” I whisper just above her ear, and I can feel her inhaling deeply, her chest compressing against mine in what I’m hoping amounts to permission.

“Think again.” She scoots her head back until I can see her stern expression, not even the hint of a playful smile. Rejection is something I’m not all that familiar with. Back at NYU I could just as easily wink at a girl as I could land her in my bed, and I often did so exactly in that order. Kennedy has always been the challenge, the ultimate get, the only one I’ve ever laid over my heart like a treasure.

“Not tonight, huh?” And I don’t mean that in any passive aggressive way. Kennedy and I will kiss. Our lips will fuse once again in one, long passionate exchange that will most likely lead to more passionate exchanges where more interesting parts of our bodies fuse in turn. Kennedy is the girl I decided long ago would be worth the wait. I’m not sure what caused me to fall so hard so fast, but I can attest to the fact that no man can resist her chaotic charm. She had me that first night with her wild laugh, her luscious curves. Her striking beauty bleaches the rest of the world to cinder. Everything ceases to exist when Kennedy is around. Everything fades to nothing, most importantly my rat’s nest of problems. Kennedy is the only person on earth who can make me forget about the darkness that hovers around the edge of my existence. “You’re worth the wait.”

“Oh? So you think kissing me is still on the table, huh?” She says it like a dare with her husky, lusty voice that makes the scotch burn bright in my stomach, in my head where it offers all the green lights to whatever my dick desires and, tonight, like all nights, it desires Kennedy.

“Yes. When the time comes I’m going to kiss you.” That’s me talking, not the booze. I mean it. Kennedy and I aren’t done by a long shot.

Her eyes enlarge, and I can’t tell if she’s enraged or amused.

“It will be a deep-throated kiss,” I warn. “My tongue wrestling yours into submission. I’m going to take your clothes off, slowly at first then with a building passion as my tongue finds more interesting places to wrestle.” A breath hitches in her throat as she gives the slightest nod. “I’m going to taste you, Kennedy.” My lids hood low. “I’m going to suck you down, drink you to the dregs, pull my mouth over your body, hot and wild, until you’re soaking wet for me.” My eyes press into hers hard as her chest pumps quickly with her every next breath. “And then I’m going to take you to my bed and show you how a real man fucks.” Her mouth opens with the expletive. “Then I’m going to sit you on my face, and we’ll start all over again.” Kennedy gasps as if she might pass out.

A deep blush glows over her cheeks. Kennedy bites over a smile, her eyes still poised over mine. “Um—wow?” She gives a playful scratch to my chest. “Me thinks you should lay off the hard liquor counselor.” She pulls me off the dance floor with her fingers entwined in mine. “I think we’re late for our movie.”

The movie drones on, and all through those long two hours, Kennedy leans her ear to my lips waiting for another carnal promise. But I don’t give any.

Next time I’ll act them out for her to see.

T
he week trickles
by with Kennedy avoiding me off and on. Both Warren Senior and Chuck are back from abroad. Chuck had a long talk with me this morning, assuring me that all of Westfield and McCarthy’s resources are at my fingertips. He wants this shut down as much as I do—as much as Kennedy does.

Keith put off his appointment twice, but he’s due in this afternoon, and, now, I’m hoping it’s not the one afternoon Kennedy actually stops in to see me.

Zoey pops her blonde head in. “Keith Stearns is here for you, Mr. McCarthy.” That’s the exact tone she takes when she’s feigning professionalism. Zoey can be as serious as she is entertaining. But right now I’m ready for Keith and any freshman antics he wants to toss my way. In fact, I’m feeling pretty cocky about it.

A tall, thick-framed boy pops his head in before entering fully with his expensive, fresh-pressed suit, his Italian loafers, followed by a heavy fog of cologne. He looks younger in real life than he does in pictures, than he did in the brief footage I allowed myself to witness. I’ve only seen him from a distance otherwise. He’s red-faced, clean-shaven, or at least for the occasion. If it’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you shouldn’t trust the physical appearance of anyone coming to see an attorney. We’re right up there with weddings as far as exaggerated grooming detail goes.

“Nice to meet you.” He extends his hand and offers a firm shake.

“Take a seat,” I offer. “You want anything to drink? Water? Something stronger?”

“No, I’m good.” He furrows his brows at Zoey as he pulls his chair in.

I give a brief nod of dismissal and wait for the door to click shut before I look to the kid seated before me. I want to hate him. Just up until five minutes ago, I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck until he stopped kicking and clawing in protest. I hate the fact he had Kennedy first, that he defiled her with his body when all I wanted to do was love her with mine. But now, seeing him here in the flesh, he seems harmless, pissed, and perhaps, most frightening of all, he wears the grim patina of innocence. Don’t ask me how I know. I’ve always had radar for weird shit like that. It’s another reason I thought maybe, just maybe, I might make a damn good lawyer one day—perhaps even move on to judge when I’m ready for a sit down position that requires equal amounts of listening and silence—a touch of restraint like it does now.