Dirty Laundry (Get Dirty 2)
Getting home, I walk inside and am instantly surrounded by silence. Sarah’s at home, Carsen’s at her sleepover, and Elise . . . isn’t here. I have a momentary thought to have Sarah pick up Carsen early, just to be safe, but I hold off knowing that if her world is about to implode, she deserves one more night of innocent fun.
Sitting on the couch, I put my head in my hands. The quiet void surrounding me echoes the emptiness in my heart, which is quickly filling with anger. Not at Elise, not at myself even, but where it should be directed . . . at Donnie and his scheming. How did this get so fucked up?
Chapter 23
Elise
What the fuck just happened?
In the thirty minutes I’ve been home, I feel like that question keeps coming back into my head, like I’m stupid drunk or something and the world just isn’t making any damn sense.
Donnie wants to blackmail Keith. And according to what I heard from the slimy, jellybean scarfing son of a bitch, he’s done this before. Maybe lots of times. I always knew Donnie was an asshole, but every good editor has a strong streak of that in them. Can’t get to that job without it.
But there’s being an asshole . . . and there’s this. And while I’m so disgusted with Donnie that I’m not even thinking of going to work on Monday, I’m hurt most by Keith.
He blames me for this shitstorm, or at least for starting the snowball down the hill. And from a certain point of view, he’s right. But I’ve done nothing but help him hide Carsen since I found out about her, actively lying to Donnie and putting my job in jeopardy by not reporting it in the articles. Hell, I went to him with ideas for out and out lies to use that he could live with so that he could keep Carsen a secret!
It doesn’t matter. Even if he’s mad at me, I’m going to help him. I have to. I love him and Carsen, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help them. That’s what love’s supposed to be, doing the right thing and taking care of those you love, even if it hurts you.
So that means I’m going to step up and do anything. Except pay the money, obviously. I don’t have that kind of cash. I never really even considered whether Keith did either.
His fame, his wealth hasn’t been a factor in our relationship at all. I love him for the bossy, intense, protective way he loves me and Carsen, not because of some sordid angle he’s manipulating like Donnie insinuated.
I spend hours lying on the couch, not sleeping but just tossing and turning as I think, testing and discarding every idea my brain comes up with, my frustration growing as I think through the whole situation from every angle.
I flip-flop between anger, raging at the empty room around me, to crying in frustration, hot tears slipping down my face. It’s just not right, it’s not fair. Somewhere around midnight, I have an epiphany.
I need help, someone to bounce ideas off. And Keith doesn’t want to talk to me right now. But right and fair . . . innocent ideas in a sadly dark world. I know someone brilliant who might be able to work some magic for me. Someone right, a little innocent, and whose sense of justice and fairness will make sure I might actually have a chance to conjure up righteous justice out of thin fucking air.
With crossed fingers, I call Maggie. She picks up after three rings, the background of her call telling me what’s up even before her falsely abrasive voice comes on.
“This better be good because it’s the middle of the night and I’m at work.”
“Maggie, I need your help. Can you come over?”
Maggie’s voice immediately changes, going back to the kind, open voice that I know and adore. “Elise, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, glad I didn’t take a left turn into Crazy World where Maggie’s a jaded bitch like she sounded at first. “I just need your brain. Can you come?”
Maggie sighs, and I know the answer. “Not for a while. Closing’s at two and then I have to clean up. Want to come to the club? It might actually help my cover, if you don’t mind. Otherwise, I won’t be able to get there until three thirty at the earliest.”
I look down at myself, already schlubbing in sweats and knowing my face is red and splotchy from the tears. What the hell, it’s not like anyone’d expect me to be going to see Maggie . . . not where she’s undercover. “Yeah, it’ll take me a bit to get presentable. But I’ll meet you there. I’ve never been to a strip club, Maggie. What should I wear?”