I didn’t want to talk about it with anybody. Clearly Grif had planned the whole thing from the start, even down to his witness and alibi. It wouldn’t matter what I said, they’d claim I started it all. Now I just wanted to go home and crawl beneath my covers.
“Y-yeah.” I said, pulling myself together as hard as I could. “I-I had an accident. I was running, and I... I fell. I tripped on the sand.”
Mariska gasped. “Oh! Your dress is torn! Are you bleeding?”
I lifted the ends of my dress. “My heel got caught in it. I had to take my shoes off. I-I think I’ll be okay.”
My friend’s brows pulled together, and I was sure she didn’t believe me. “Where’s Grif?” She looked over my shoulder down the beach in the direction from which I’d come.
“He met an old friend.” My mind was flying, making up a story as fast as bits of information would come to me. “They were talking, catching up, and I heard you calling me. So I left. I really just want to go home now.”
Mariska and Pete both stood on the beach staring at me for a moment. A shudder rippled across my shoulders, but I took a slow breath and lifted my chin to look at them. I even managed a smile. “I think I had a little too much to drink tonight. Please take me home now. Please?”
My friend’s lips pressed together in a tight line, but she stepped to the side. “Sure. Of course!”
Pete turned and led us slowly back in the direction of the bar. His hands were in his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched. Mariska held my hand, our arms laced together, and I forced myself to walk, not to break down, to be strong for just a little while longer.
We made it to her car, and I waited in the passenger’s seat as she stood outside for a few moments talking to Pete. The roaring in my ears drowned out any conversation they might be having. My super-controlled breathing kept my back straight, my body from curling into a ball.
Conversation was minimal as we made the short drive back to my house. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Mariska asked softly.
I nodded too rapidly and smiled too big. “I’m great!” I said in a voice I knew was too high.
Her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “I’m sorry I lost track of you. Pete... wanted to talk.”
I couldn’t even go there with her. “It’s okay.” I was hoarse from screaming and fighting, and at this point, I was running on will power alone. We were at my apartment, and I pulled my bag onto my lap.
“Thanks, Mare.” I reached for the handle, but she caught my arm.
“I know you’re not telling me something. If you want to take off tomorrow, I’ll tell Rook you’re sick. I can call your clients and reschedule or see if Tammy can take them?”
Blinking rapidly, I nodded. “I might do that. Thanks.”
Her grip relaxed on my arm, but I didn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks again,” I whispered, pulling the handle.
In less than two minutes, I was inside my apartment, dropping all of my things in a path leading from the door to my bedroom. My torn dress was quickly over my head, and I pushed naked between the cool sheets. I pulled my knees tight against my chest, wrapping my arms around them and hugging myself into a tight ball. Tears fell silently as my thoughts blurred, and it wasn’t long before shock gave way to sleep.
Chapter 7: “Every breath is a second chance.”
Slayde
Monday morning, I’d been back at the club at seven, ready to do it all over again when Rook stopped me at the door.
“That your truck?” He pointed out the glass doors at my rusty old Ford.
“Yeah.” I squinted at him, unsure if he were accusing me of carjacking or yanking my chain. I couldn’t imagine a guy with his resources caring about the junker I used to get from Point A to Point B.
“Got some supplies stuck in Scranton. It’s worth it to me to get them here tomorrow if I can find someone willing to drive out ther
e and load it all up by himself.” He looked at me. “Think you can handle a job like that?”
I stepped away, rubbing the back of my neck. “You need me to drive to Scranton?”
He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a thick fold of bills. I watched him unfold one, two, three. “Here’s money to cover your gas, food, hotel room.”
For a moment, I stared at the cash in my hand. An itch of warning pricked at the back of my neck. “You want receipts?”
“Nah, keep the change.” He slapped me on the back, and my conditioned response kicked in.