Escape (Part Three) (7 page)

A small grunt passed his lips.

My hand gripped his shoulder and he jumped. “Alice,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Can’t you see I’m working?” He stared up at me with cold blue eyes, his mouth fixed in a frown.

“I know but it’s important.”

He closed his laptop before swiveling in his chair and throwing all of his attention towards me.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you…I know it was hard for you to go on camera.”

“It wasn’t difficult for me,” he said, his jaw tightening. “I would’ve rather not but it had nothing to do with the difficulty level of it.”

“Oh. What about your memory?”

“What about it?”

“I overheard you saying to Jonah that it was a little foggy. That you couldn’t remember some things.”

He turned away from me. “That’s a conversation for Jonah and I.”

“It’s actually a conversation you and I should be having.”

His eyebrows knitted, mouth set in a tight line. “What are you talking about?”

The knot in my stomach violently twisted. “I know why you’re memory’s foggy.”

“You do?” he said.

My fingers lacing nervously together, feet rocking back and forth against the carpet. “You hit your head.”

“When?”

“A few nights ago. Outside of The Dirty Kitty.”

A flicker of shame spread to his cheeks, bright red painting the apples of skin as he ducked his head. “How do you know?”

“I was there.”

He turned away from me, shoulders hunched forward as he stared at his lap and tried to recall the moment – Chace hoisted off the club floor, the bouncer’s hands gripping his shirt as he threw him out, the back of his skull cracking against the cement.

“Why was I at The Dirty Kitty?” he asked, words barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know why but --”

“No. I mean,” he turned around his chair. “Why was I there if we’re together?”

A curtain of fog hung over his eyes as he stared at me. Another lie burst into my throat. I tried to swallow it but it slipped past my lips. “I didn’t mind you going to places like that.”

“It’s not about you,” he said. “I don’t do those kinds of things when I’m in a relationship.”

His gaze traveled towards his lap where his other hand lay limp. He gazed down at his laptop, at the pile of papers in the binder beside him. He tore one out and turned it over, grabbing a pen from the coffee cup, filled with them. He tested the black ink before he drew a sharp line. He was scribbling across the page, vertical and horizontal lines making large blank boxes with question marks above them.

“Come here,” he said, nose almost to the paper.

I cautiously strode over to him. He pressed his finger in the first box.

“I can’t remember what happened after the day Jennifer and I broke up. Do you?”

Of course I did.

I had to tell him the truth, though it killed me to do so. My sister’s words looped in my head.
You made your bed now lay in it, you made your bed now –

“There were a lot of paparazzi outside the office because she called them about your breakup.” He scribbled it in. “She accused you of cheating.” His pen stopped. He was trying to remember.

“With you?”

I shook my head. “No. She thought you were cheating but she didn’t know who with.”

His pen waved across the paper. “Was I cheating?”

“No.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “What happened here?” he said, pressing his finger to the box directly after it.

I cleared my throat. “You had a meeting with Jonah.” He wrote his brother’s name. “But you kicked me out so I’m not sure exactly what you talked about.”

He glanced at the paper. “Where do you come in, in all of this? When did we get together?”

We don’t
. “Here,” I said, pointing to a box, two over from the meeting with Jonah. “We were supposed to go to dinner but I never showed up. I offered we go to a party instead.”

Chace scribbled it down. He stood and crossed the room. On the floor lay his pants from the day before, he dug inside of the pockets and pulled out his phone. He unlocked and swiped a few times.

“Did you call me?” he asked. “About the change of plans?”

“No,” I said, my throat tightening. “I messaged you.”

“No you didn’t,” he said, showing me our text message conversations. The last one was from over a week ago, when he demanded I pick up coffee on my way to work. My response was cold:
Sure
.

I remember that morning, the scowl on my face as I crawled out of bed, dreading going to the office and looking at Chace. He would find something wrong with the coffee like he always did. It was too hot or too thick. As if I had any control over the consistency. He threw it in the trash and told me to buy him another cup.

I barely recognized that girl, the slumped shoulders, the heels scraping across the floor, the resentment building in her belly whenever she thought about her boss.

“I messaged you on MatchU,” I said.

He slowly nodded. “And I deleted it.”

“You did.”

He sat on the edge of his bed, sinking onto the mattress, his hands gripping his knees. “We were messaging on a hookup app. I remember,” a small smirk tugged at his mouth. “I remember my username was
brownsfan6
. And yours…” A flicker of recognition passed over his face. He looked up at me, eyes bright and wild as if he was seeing me in a new light.

“Veronica,” he said, fingers tightening around his knees.

I nodded. “We met at a party.”

“In lower Manhattan,” he finished.

I could almost see the events of that night flickering behind his eyes. The heat of the room, crawling up the three flights of stairs, meeting me in the hall with that ridiculous mask shielding my eyes.

“You told me your name was Veronica,” he said. “I took off my mask, I told you who I was and you lied to me.” That familiar anger built inside of him.

“But you figured it out.”

“What happened after the party? Which I barely remember.”

“We had plans for Saturday night.”

“Fill that in.” My fingers gripped the pen as I scribbled in the correct box. “What else?”

“But I didn’t show up.”

“What happened after that?”

“You came to my apartment and told me I was coming with you to your parents’ house. You were drunk and angry, I assumed it was because I was ignoring your messages and your calls.”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember that,” he said, one hand gripping the side of his head. “I don’t remember that at all.”

“You gave my sister some money,” I said looking at him, mildly concerned. “To watch the kids while we were away.”

“Fuck.” He shot to his feet. “I don’t remember that. I need to – When did we get together? Here?”

“Sort of.”

“Alice,” he said, tugging at his hair. “You need to be direct with me.”

“We didn’t…We never really…”

“Spit it out,” he hissed.

“You kissed me in the guest room and you told me to make up my mind but --”

His shoulders hunched over as he stormed towards the door and back again, pacing violently before he stopped in his tracks.

“We weren’t together when I went to The Dirty Kitty, were we?”

“No.”

He bustled over to his desk and looked down at the timeline, tracing from the moment he hit his head at The Dirty Kitty to our interview with Cheryl.

If there was one thing I knew about Chace is that he wasn’t an idiot. It took seconds for him to unearth the truth on his own.

His hands curled around the edge of his desk, white knuckled, fingers pressing into the wood.

“Do you remember now?” I said.

His shoulders were trembling. He refused to look at me.

“You can leave,” he said.

I stood there for a minute, waiting for him to turn around and spit out an insult between his teeth. Something to remind me of the old Chace; his clenched teeth, his tight shoulders, but his gaze remained on his desk.

He wasn’t going to turn around until I left the room.

So, I did.

The knock on my bedroom door hoisted me to my feet.

“Come in,” I said, straightening my blouse.

I’d changed out of Evie’s clothes and folded them neatly on the bed, slipping on an outfit that was entirely me, something the stylist had scoffed at before.

I was hoping it was Chace but Jonah opened the door with a frown. “You might want to have a seat,” he said.

I gingerly sat on the edge of my bed.

Jonah walked to the other side of the room where the large armoire stood closed and untouched. His shoulder knocked against it. “I got Jennifer to agree to keep her mouth shut on one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You have to leave tonight for New York.”

The clock on my nightstand flashed red. It was midnight.

“I can’t,” I said. “Doesn’t she know I have a job?”

Jonah released a slow, single nod. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the armoire, glancing down at my suitcase, half-packed since the moment I arrived.

“You don’t have a job anymore.”

A cold sliver of fear ran up my back, cool fingers wrapping around the strands before pulling at the roots. “I’m sorry?”

“Chace told me you spoke with him tonight?”

I nodded. “I thought I should tell him the truth.”

“You did the right thing. But the right thing always comes with consequences. I’m sure you know that. Or maybe you don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jonah held up his hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve called a car. You have ten minutes to gather your things and meet me outside. You’re going home.”

Jonah headed for the door and I stood up, my fists clenched. I tried to storm past him but he grabbed my arm.

“Get off of me,” I said.

“Where are you going?”

“If Chace is going to fire me, he can do it himself.”

Jonah threw me in my room and stepped in front of the door, his wide shoulders blocking it. “Get your things,” he said.

“I want to hear it from him.”

“I’m not going to let that happen. You’ve put my family through too much.”

“Excuse me?”

“This whole nonsense with Jennifer wouldn’t have happened if you would’ve told my brother the truth, after he hit his head. Have you talked to my mother recently?” I shook my head. “She’s so stressed out she barely wants to get out of bed. Having a television crew in her home, investigating her son and the mother of her grandchild isn’t making matters better.”

“This isn’t my fault,” I said. “I wasn’t the one who called Cheryl or the paparazzi --”

“A large part of growing up is admitting when you’re truly at fault, which you are. Now pack your things and get downstairs. If you try to talk to my brother, I’ll have you thrown out of the house.”

With a tight jaw Jonah flung the bedroom door open and shut it behind him. This was final.

A wave of tears built in my throat but I swallowed them and turned away. I reached for my suitcase, pulling the rest of it from underneath my bed. I picked up a pile of shirts before I collapsed into myself, arms thrown around my knees, forehead resting against them.

This is what I deserved.

***

Evie waited with me on the front steps of the house, her arms tight across her chest. “My brothers are such assholes.”

“They’re not,” I said. “Jonah’s just doing his job and Chace has every right to be upset.”

She looked at me. “You don’t really believe that.”

I ducked my head.

The truth was, even then, I believed it. While everything wasn’t my fault I set the whole situation in motion, the one who stood at the edge of a cliff with the boulder and knocked it over.

Cheryl and her crew left but Jennifer was still in the house. I could smell her as I came down the stairs, her perfume floating through the house like a sickness, her laughter pitchy in the living room where Jonah locked her until I left. Evie told me she was staying so she and Chace could work things out, Bonnie’s orders.

“I would rather have you then her,” she said.

I smiled. “This doesn’t mean we still can’t be friends.

“Of course. I’ll come visit all the time.”

Headlights traveled down the long driveway, a black car looping around the fountain in the middle of the cobblestone entrance.

The driver hopped out of the front seat. “Miss Posner?” he said, looking between Evie and me.

“That’s me,” I said.

He grabbed my bags and placed them in the trunk. I was steps away from climbing inside when Evie’s arms wrapped around me. I turned around and hugged her, our hands flat against each other’s backs, foreheads resting against shoulders, breath moving against hair.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said.

“Yeah,” I swallowed my tears. “Me too.”

I pulled back. There was a light in her eyes. She was crying but wiped her tears with the back of her hand. I gave her a small wave before stepping into the car.

The engine rumbled beneath me. I looked out the passenger-side window where Evie stood, waving. I thought, that should be Chace. The pinch in my stomach told me it was time to stop thinking about him.

The car pulled away and my mind told me not to look back. I threw a look over my shoulder and standing in the window was Chace, watching the car roll down the road.

My sister was a wizard behind the bar, her wrists were like magic, flipping heavy bottles perfectly into the air, fingers twisting around their necks, pouring perfect counts of alcohol into slippery metal shakers – one, two, three, four, five – until she snapped it back up and filled the tin with ice. She would shake while pouring four shot glasses full of bright blue liquid, lining them neatly on the bar top for one of the other servers to take.

They were magical too but in a lesser way, one that was contained in their tight mouths and sharp eyes, concentrating on balancing a tray full of drinks and food on one palm, while smiling and maneuvering through the crowd.

Men loved watching her. Groups of them would crowd at the bar, their eyes dropping to her breasts dripping out of her V-neck dresses. Bartenders were allowed to wear dresses and boots that came up to their knees, but they were the only ones.