Deception, p.15
Deception, page 15
Maybe Sully was right. This is bullshit. Our lives. How we’re chained to the Morellis, specifically Bryant, and have no hope of doing anything else.
Rather than sulk like my brother would over what I can’t do anything about right now, I focus on my task at hand.
Schmooze.
Sully will smooth out things with Landry, hopefully, and what he doesn’t fix, I’ll manage myself.
After dropping my car off with a valet driver, I make my way into the building that’s bustling with well-dressed people. This is my element. I was born to party with the elite. I’d like to think I get that from Mom. I clean up the best of the three of us and can fake a smile that gets me damn near whatever I want. It doesn’t hurt that I’m wearing one of my most expensive bespoke Tom Ford charcoal suits. Sully says these pants give me a David Beckham ass. I think he’s just being a dick when he says it, but I take it as a compliment. The only thing I’m missing is something lovely hanging off my arm. A few women try to catch my gaze, as though in tune with my thoughts, but I’m not interested. I’m too distracted to flirt. Besides, the only arm candy I want is her. I try not to imagine Landry in a sexy, fitted dress because these David Beckham pants don’t have room for a ten-inch boner.
“Ford?”
A tall, broad guy with fuckboy blond hair and a goofy-ass grin saunters my way. I stare at him blankly because I don’t know this asshole. He’s certainly not anyone I’d willingly associate with. But he knows our alias, though.
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t tell me you’d be going to this shit.” He laughs and smacks the side of my arm. “Dude, you were right about Landry.”
I quickly connect the dots.
Landry?
This has to be Ty fucking Constantine.
“I’m always right,” I grunt, playing along. “What happened?”
“I texted her. We’re going out on a date next week. Without her daddy.”
“Her dad’s a real asshole, yeah?”
“Shit, yeah.” He leans in and whispers conspiratorially. “He still didn’t come into the office today. When he got jumped, they really must have fucked him up.”
“Hmph.”
He smacks my arm again and I swear to fuck I’m going to smack him back if he does it again. “What crawled up your ass and died today? Usually you’re not so grumpy.”
I blink at him in confusion. What kind of act has Scout of all people been putting on?
“Is it the girl you were telling me about?” he asks, frowning. “She still avoiding you?”
Did he really tell her about Ash?
“Always,” I grunt out.
“You’re just going to have to get her alone. Make her hear you out.”
“I don’t think it’ll be that easy. She’s married.”
His eyes bug out of his head. “No shit? Man, you didn’t tell me she was married. You really do have it bad if you’re pining over a married woman.”
“We have history.” I shrug and cast my gaze into the crowd, my mind on other people who aren’t Ash. “Kind of hard to forget what we had.”
“You’ll get her back if it’s meant to be.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I can help. Just tell me what to do.”
Ask your cousin if my brother can have his wife so he can torture her some more. Can you do that, Ty boy?
“Thanks, man,” I say instead. “I need a drink.”
Ty winks at me. “Follow me. I’ve already scoped out the bar.”
He saunters away, weaving through the crowd. I follow after him, growing more and more irritated as the seconds tick by. When he reaches the line, he turns to regard me, studying me intently.
“You’re not limping. Knees feeling better today?”
Dammit.
“Comes and goes,” I lie. “I can hide it if I have enough oxy.”
“Oxy?” His eyes widen. “Seriously? That shit’ll fuck you up.”
How does Scout put up with this guy? He’s chatty and too damn friendly. Everything I say he has to inspect it under a microscope.
“So,” I mumble, changing the subject, “where will you take Croft’s daughter for your date?”
He frowns like he doesn’t like me steering the conversation away from my non-existent drug problem, but indulges me anyway because, apparently, he’s a golden boy in need of a friend.
Hell, you have to be damn near desperate to befriend Scout.
“At first,” he says, leaning in, “I was thinking some place romantic. Five-star restaurant or whatever. Carriage ride. I don’t know. Something fancy.”
“You decided against that?” I lift a brow in question.
“I don’t know…I thought maybe I’d just take her somewhere low-key. A movie. Maybe the arcade. Fill up on junk food. The girl seems like she could unwind a little.”
No shit.
Landry is wound tight with a frozen stick up her ass. She’d probably really enjoy the movies. But with someone like me. Not this fuckboy. I could get her to relax.
“I think the movie’s a good idea,” I admit, though it pains me to do so.
I have to play nice with this guy. Part of the gig. It’s just better when Scout’s dealing with this part and I’m dealing with Landry.
He continues to ramble about all his date ideas. A bunch of shit to make her swoon. By the time it’s our turn in line, I’m ready to smack my hand over his mouth so he’ll shut the hell up.
Ty orders our drinks and pays. I take the dark liquid, knocking it back eagerly. The burn scalds my throat, but it feels good.
“You straight chugged that whiskey, man.” He shakes his head. “You sure that’s a good idea with the oxy?”
I’m about to answer him when I notice a familiar face in the crowd. Another goddamn Constantine. Thankfully, it’s not Winston, but it is one of his mini-me brothers. Perry. If he sees me chatting it up with his cousin, our cover will be blown. I have to get the fuck out of here. Bryant can kiss my ass.
“You’re right,” I mutter, turning my back to Perry as not to be seen and blow my cover with Ty. “I’m not feeling so hot. I’m going to head to my hotel.”
“You’ll be here tomorrow night too, right? This event is two days. Please say I won’t be doing this shit alone.” He gives me the puppy dog eyes. “Dude, please.”
“Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll text you later!”
Ignoring him, I stalk out of the building. I made an appearance. It’s time to get the fuck out of here.
* * *
I’m buzzed.
Not from the one drink I had at the event, but the three or four or seven more I’ve had since I arrived at my hotel. The bar is dark and swanky. I’ve been able to drink away my frustrations in relative peace.
The walk back to my room is a blur. It takes a few times to get the keycard into the slot. Eventually, I make it inside. I strip out of my suit and climb onto the bed in just my boxers.
I want to talk to her.
It’s not fair that Scout somehow fucked this up for me.
There’s a missed text on my phone from Sully that says he thinks he fixed things. I’m not convinced. I need to hear it with my own ears. But she blocked me.
It takes intense focus, but I find her number on my cell and then use the hotel phone to dial her. I’m not even sure if she’s awake this late, well after midnight now.
“Hello?”
The breathiness of her voice speaks straight to my cock. I close my eyes, imagining her sexy little mouth.
“Hello?” she says again. “Who is this?”
“Sparrow.”
“What? I can’t hear you. You’re mumbling. Who is this?”
“Laundry, it’s me.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “Chevy?”
I grin, imagining her shock. “Yep.”
“I blocked you from calling me.”
“And I’m calling you to tell you to un-block me.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Little bit.” I scrub my palm over my face. “I miss you.”
“Miss me? Ford, I just saw you. You literally stole a kiss before you left.”
Fucking Sully.
“That wasn’t me,” I slur. “That was my loser alter-ego.”
“Are you jealous…of yourself?”
“Yep. I also hate parts of myself.”
“You have problems, Chevy.”
“And you have answers to my problems, Laundry.”
“You confuse me. You’re never the same person.”
“Can you un-block me?”
“Fine.”
“FaceTime me.”
“Okay.”
I don’t want to hang up, but I have to. She makes me wait a long five minutes before she calls me back. I answer on the first ring. Her pretty face is lit by a bedside lamp. The only light I have is coming into the room from the bathroom.
“Hey.”
She smirks. “Hey.”
“I wish you were in this bed with me right now.”
“Ford…”
“Don’t call me that.” I close my eyes. “Call me Chevy or…” Sparrow.
“Or what?”
“If you weren’t so stressed about life or whatever it is that has you wound up all the time, what would you do? You’re about as interested in college as I am. It won’t take them long to figure out we suck and never do our assignments.”
She scoffs. “I do my assignments.”
“Liar.”
“I need to do my assignments. I’ve just been distracted. I’ll catch up.”
“Maybe we should have a study date.” I grin at her. “Naked study date.”
“You’re a brat.”
“Seriously, babe. What would you do?”
She gnaws on her bottom lip so hard it’s a wonder she doesn’t draw blood. “I try not to think about it.”
What kind of answer is that?
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have a future.” The bitterness in her tone can’t be hidden. “I’ll end up marrying some rich, successful guy and popping out a bunch of babies. The end.”
“Sounds like a lot of sex, though.”
She smiles even though I can tell she doesn’t want to. “I’d do something with my hands.”
“Hand jobs?”
“Oh my God. I’m hanging up.”
I laugh and then laugh harder when she sticks her tongue out. It’s so cute. If I were there, I’d suck it into my mouth and make her forget she was mad.
“When my mom was alive, she used to do all the floral arrangements for Dad’s parties. I loved helping her. We’d spend hours working with exotic flowers. It’s when we’d have our best talks.” She smiles wistfully. “I miss her.”
“I miss my mom, too.”
“She’s gone?”
“Yeah.” I close my eyes and then sigh. “So, a florist, huh? I could see you in a cute little shop cutting flowers.”
“It’s not exactly dreaming big,” she mutters. “What about you?”
I shrug. “I don’t have choices either. I’m my uncle’s bitch.”
“His bitch?”
“I run errands and shit for him.”
“He’s in the mafia?”
We both laugh.
“I wish. That shit would be entertaining. But, nah. I just go to parties and do odd jobs. It’s boring and pointless. My brother hates him for it.”
“Are you and your brother close? What’s his name?”
“Sullivan. And we’re close as brothers can be. Still, he’s a fucking prick most of the time.”
“My little sister can be a monster, but I’d never admit that to anyone but you.”
God, I wish I could kiss her right now.
“So?” she says. “What would you do if you didn’t have this uncle of yours?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t allowed myself to think that far ahead. At one time I thought I’d follow in my mom’s footsteps. Become a doctor. But…shit happened. I just don’t think about it now.”
“Maybe you’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe.”
“I should go to bed now,” she whispers. “It’s late and your eyes keep drooping.”
“Send me a picture and I’ll get off the phone.”
She rolls her eyes but nods. “Fine. I’ll send it after you hang up.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Laundry.”
“Bye, Chevy.”
She hangs up. I stare at the screen until a picture comes through text. In the photo, she’s smiling at me. It’s sweet and adorable. Rolling onto my side, I take a selfie and send it back to her. She sends me some sleeping emojis and I take the hint.
I fall asleep staring at her face and then I have dreams about her sassy mouth.
Chapter Twenty-One
Landry
Is Ford nice to you?
Della makes a sour face before signing, He’s a dummy.
I bite back a laugh and then probe some more. He isn’t a good teacher?
He’s a good teacher, she signs, and then shrugs. Just a dummy. Even Heathen knows it.
“You’re a brat,” I tease, signing and saying the words. “You know that?”
She nods happily, grinning. Then, she makes an evil face at me before signing, Is he your boyfriend?
My blood runs cold. Is it that obvious that me and Ford have something going on? If it’s apparent to my sister who doesn’t pay much attention to everyone around her, I can only imagine what my dad thinks, since he watches my every move.
“No,” I say in a harsh tone, making sure to enunciate so there’s no mistaking what I’m saying to her.
She signs, Liar.
“Enough.” She’s so brazen sometimes and if she gets too comfortable, it could be bad for her. “Apologize.”
Sorry. She snaps her hands in a jerky way, not looking at all sorry, but it’s better than nothing.
I need for her to stay on her toes because the weekends are always the worst for us. Two whole days stuck at home with Dad. Our chances of pissing him off are greater, which means she can’t afford to behave this way. Not even with me.
“I’m going to check on Dad.” I make sure to also sign the words.
Her playfulness fades and she scowls. Why?
“Della,” I admonish. “Don’t be rude.”
Don’t be mad at me. She swallows hard and then signs, I just don’t want to live with Dad anymore. I want us to move far away. Can we, Landry? Please? She signs the word please like five more times in a row, her eyes glossing over with tears.
My heart cracks right down the center. I know she hates him as much as I do. Sometimes, when curled up in bed together whenever Dad’s out of town, she expresses these types of wishes. They all seem like far away fantasies. This plea, though, isn’t some fantasy. It’s desperation—a desperation I feel echoing in my soul.
One day soon, I sign to her, but no more talk of that right now. It’s not safe.
Her shoulders slump, dropping her gaze to her lap. The defeat written all over her kills me. I wish I could give her what she wants right now, but I can’t. And talking about this stuff is reckless and dangerous. Neither of us can afford to slip up. Especially when he’s at home, forced to rest. It’ll give him too much time to think—too much time to notice what his daughter is up to.
He’ll notice Ford.
Start asking questions.
Then, the accusations will fly.
I can’t allow that.
Since my sister is done talking to me, I get up and leave her room. Sandra is off for the weekend. One of the cooks, Gloria, comes in early on Saturday mornings to prepare meals for the weekends, but is usually gone by noon. Then, it’s just the three of us.
Suppressing a shudder, I make my way to Dad’s room. At one time, I loved running in there on Saturday mornings. I’d wriggle between Mom and Dad, begging for them to turn on cartoons. They’d indulge me and Dad would have Gloria bring us all breakfast in bed. Chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped topping for me.
I haven’t touched one since Mom died.
I haven’t done a lot of things since she died.
That innocent kid died right along with her. That kid was forced to grow into an adult who has to protect her little sister. I’d be bitter that I’ve lost the easy parts of my life, but I don’t regret the relationship I have with Della. I love her and know Mom would be proud that I look after her, making sure her life is as normal as possible.
God, I miss Mom, though. So much.
Dad is sitting up in bed on his usual side, a laptop perched on his thighs over the sheet. His hair is messy and dark blond scruff is growing in on his cheeks. The bruising on his face is worse today, swollen and dark purple.
“Hi, Dad,” I greet, my voice cheery. “Doing okay today?”
He looks up from his laptop, cutting his icy blue eyes my way. “Feel like hell, but I’ll heal. Work never stops. Missing two days while in the middle of this Tokyo deal has really been an inconvenience.”
“I’m sorry.”
He frowns. “It’s not your fault.”
That’s debatable.
“If you need anything, just—”
“Come sit,” he says, his tone stern. “Like old times. You used to love to watch me work.”
Used to.
Back when I was naïve and thought my dad hung the moon. Before I saw he was a man of shadows hidden behind a sunbeam smile.
“I don’t want to disturb you,” I utter, fidgeting in the doorway.
“Never.” He pats the bed beside him. “Come cuddle, sweetheart.”
My hands tremble, but fisting them helps keep the shaking at bay. I make my way over to the bed and climb on. He lifts the sheet, inviting me to get under them with him.
Della was right.
I shouldn’t have checked on him.
But I need to feel him out. To see what he knows, if anything. If he suspects I had anything to do with it, I’ll need a strategy to talk my way out of it.
His smile is warm, but he’s guarded. It puts me on edge too. Maybe he can sense the whirl of emotions inside me. Usually, I’m much better at hiding the fear and hatred I have toward him. Ford, though, distracts me and makes things difficult for me.
Last night, before I went to sleep, I deleted any trace of conversations between me and Ford. I even went as far as to change the contact to “Study Partner Girl Whose Name I Can’t Remember” in case he asks about the number. I’m hoping he’s been too busy with the attack to dig that far into what I’m doing. Still, I can’t be too careful.
