Trouble (B-Squad 2.75)

Not that her friends were unaware of her history with Jake Davis. She’d met Cora in her third year in LA, and Brooklyn a couple months later. They’d lived together for five years. These women had seen The Breakdown of 2012, when she’d hit rock bottom so spectacularly that she’d plowed right through it to a whole new low. She’d lost the only acting job she’d been able score in five long years, lost her sorta-boyfriend, and lost her apartment in the space of a week. It was in the midst of that that she’d gotten the drunkest she’d ever been in her entire life and confessed everything.

About how she’d been so crazy in love with Jake the entire time they’d dated in high school. How they’d been each other’s firsts. How they’d planned a perfect future together.

And how she’d dumped him on his ass the first hiccup they had, because she was sure he was going to hold her back from her destiny.

Jessica snorted. Destiny. She’d been a little twat. Knowing that now didn’t mean she was eager to face the one who got away. More like the one I kicked to the curb.

“Oh, good Lord, you have that moony look in your eyes.” Brooklyn made a gagging sound. “Cora, come talk some sense into her!”

Footsteps padded upstairs and then Cora’s head appeared over the balcony. Her dark eyes took in their positions—Jessica still wanting to flee and Brooklyn standing in her way—and huffed out a breath. “You’re going, end of story. If it will make you feel better, you can pretend I forced you.”

Considering Cora could be downright scary when she wanted to be, there was some truth to the statement.

Jessica wasn’t backing down this time. “You don’t get it.”

“Wrong. Out of all of us, I know all about having to face down your past on a daily basis. I manage. You will, too.”

Okay, maybe you do get it. Jessica gritted her teeth. It didn’t matter. It was apples and oranges. “Y’all cannot seriously expect me to go face the firing squad. I’m willing to eat my humble pie when the situation calls for it, but this is just too much. I don’t have anything resembling a boyfriend. I am almost thirty years old and have two roommates. I haven’t accomplished jack all that I said I would when I blew out of town with two middle fingers in the air.”

Cora smiled, her teeth perfectly white and straight against her blood red lips. “I thought your therapist said facing down your past was an important part of your journey.”

“I have faced down my past. I’m reformed. That doesn’t mean I want to be thrown to the wolves so I can play a damn martyr.”

Brooklyn laughed, her long brown hair swinging in its ponytail. “A martyr. You have such an inflated opinion of yourself.”

“Shut it.” She turned a pleading look at Cora. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

Cora’s expression turned contemplative. “You know what your problem is? It isn’t going back to Catfish Creek. It’s going back alone.”

Something like hope blossomed in Jessica’s chest. She’d seen both her parents and her brother quite a few times over the last ten years, but she’d never been brave enough to cross the town lines. Though she was mostly too proud—even now—to admit it, she missed at least some parts of Catfish Creek. “You have an idea.”

“I have a brilliant idea. Come on.”

Jessica headed for the stairs, Brooklyn hot on her heels. She found Cora back in her bedroom at the desk she’d set up for when she needed to work from home. It was just as light and airy as the rest of the house, the big windows overlooking the beach giving the space plenty of natural light, and the seafoam green walls and white furniture gave the space a restful feeling.

Though Jessica wasn’t feeling particularly restful at the moment. One look at Cora’s laptop had her shaking her head. “No way.”

“One of my clients used the company, and they’re perfectly respectable.” Cora scrolled down, giving them an eyeful of the classy website that offered all manner of dates. Jessica caught sight of one package that included having a beautiful man show up to a residence and clean for the allotted time.

“You have got to be kidding me. Escorts?”

“That’s illegal in both California and Texas. No, the sex isn’t included—it’s strictly forbidden. You can’t even kiss them.” Cora touched the screen. “There we go. This is the package Hilary went with. She had a wedding and didn’t feel like dealing with people gossiping about her cheating ex-husband, so she took a date. He charmed everyone and kept them distracted from unfortunate lines of questions, which freed her up to have a good time. That’s exactly what you need.”

It sounded too good to be true. Jessica leaned forward, scanning the package Cora had brought up. She would put in her information and her basic requests—everything from looks to background—and once it was all agreed upon, her date would meet her locally and play his role for the duration of the trip. They limited these to three days, but she wouldn’t need much more than that. Get in, attend the reunion, get out.

Then she noticed the price. “Oh, hell, no. I can’t afford that!”

Cora rotated her chair around and considered her with unblinking dark eyes. “You need this, Jess. You need to go face him—and everyone else—so you can actually move on. All the therapy and self-help books in the world won’t mean a damn thing if you can’t take this step.”

Jake. It all came back to Jake.

The rest of her graduating class weren’t terrible people or anything, but she didn’t feel the loss over not being in contact with them. Jake was just this gaping hole in her chest. Oh, it had scabbed over in the years since she’d seen him, but the boyfriends she’d had since then couldn’t hold a candle against the phantom of Jake.

She’d never be able to have a lasting relationship if she didn’t put him firmly in the past where he belonged, and she couldn’t do that until

they have a very painful and much-needed conversation.

For me, at least. He’s moved on with his life.