Beneath the Scars

“Think about it. We can talk in a couple days. The next move is his, if he decides to come after you.”

“I will.”

“Are you staying here?”

“No. I’m going back to my place to get a few things, then head to Cliff’s Edge tomorrow.” The mere thought of getting back there eased some of the tension I was feeling. “I’m anxious to get back to Zachary,” I added without thinking.

“Who is Zachary, Megan? Your next mark?” Jared’s voice was snide as he spoke from behind me.

Slowly, I stood up, trying hard not to show my panic. How much had he heard? I didn’t want him to know anything about Zachary or where I was staying. Internally, I cursed myself for slipping up. I turned to Jared, who was eyeing me closely, a calculating expression on his face. I shrugged nonchalantly, hoping he bought my act. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got a new dog.”

His expression didn’t change. Desperate to throw him off track, I pulled out my phone. “Want to see a picture?” I asked, knowing full well he had no interest at all in seeing one.

My ruse seemed to work. He sneered at me as he shook his head. “No, thanks.” With a nasty grin he turned to leave. “Think about what your lawyer said, and what I said, Megan. I meant it...you know I did.”

A long, cold shudder ran through my spine as I watched him walk away.* * *Karen was perched on the countertop, watching me clean out the refrigerator in my apartment. “I hate to say it, Megan, but maybe Bill is right. If you won’t accept the money to fight it, maybe you should walk away.”

I threw another container of bad yogurt into the bin. “So he wins.”

Her voice was filled with sympathy. “I think he already did.”

The expired pasta sauce hit the edge of the garbage bin with more force than I intended. For a second I thought I had overthrown it and I would have to clean up another mess, but then it tipped into the can and I sighed in relief. “I guess he has.”

“At least you get some money. Maybe the book will suck and there won’t be any sales.” At the rather insulted look I threw her, she chuckled. “I meant with the changes he made. Maybe it won’t be as good.”

“I don’t want to take his money. It feels all sorts of wrong.”

“Don’t think about it. Think about what it means. You don’t have to deal with him anymore. You can move forward with your life, and like Bill said, write another book.”

I snorted as I tied the top of the bag shut. “Like any publisher would ever touch me with all of this attached to my name.”

“Then you self-publish under another name and build up your reputation that way. You can do this, Megan. I know you can.”

I adjusted the temperature and shut the door. “Maybe I should just walk away. Withdraw my statement and be done with it.”

“I think if you’re going to do that, you should take the money.” She tilted her head. “At least get some compensation out of it. I bet if Bill went to them and said you’d take the money, they’d word the statement in a positive way.”

“Like what?” I shook my head. “That I was mistaken?”

“I’m sure they could figure something out. If Jared got what he wanted, I’m sure he’d be happy to word it, ah, in a kind fashion.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, sarcasm edging my voice. “He’s such a kind person.”

“Give him what he wants, he might be. Think about it,” she urged.

“I will.”

She jumped off the counter. “Okay enough of this shit. No more about Jared or the book. We’re going to the salon and you’re getting the works: mani, pedi, facial, and I’ll trim your hair. Then we’ll order in pizza and drink our weight in wine. What time are you going back tomorrow?”

“I have some errands to do, plus an appointment at the bank, then I’ll head back. I plan on being there in the early evening.”

“Okay. Got your stuff packed?”

“Yep.”

“Good.” She grinned at me. “I call girls’ night officially started.”

I couldn’t help but return her grin. She was right. I needed a break from everything else.

“Girls’ night it is.”* * *I woke up early the next day, my head surprisingly clear, considering how much wine we’d consumed the previous night. Karen and I had sat up late talking, drinking—the way we often had since we met.

A hot shower swept away the last of the cobwebs, and feeling ambitious, I went to the kitchen to make coffee. I moved around quietly, knowing I was the only one up. Chris was away and Karen wasn’t going into the salon until late morning. My laptop was taking up counter space and I pushed it aside to fill the coffee pot, frowning when memories of last night’s wine-induced idea came back to me.