Revenge #5 Page 6

  “Wal-Mart,” he says again, a mischievous look on his face.

  He’s so charming, but I can’t fall into his trap and get comfortable.

  “Are they causing you problems?” I ask.

  “Miss Rivera, you’re aware of the issues of mass market distribution, aren’t you?” He points to a photo on his desk. It’s of a nude woman with a snake across her breasts. It reminds me of something I’ve seen on a Britney Spears album.

  He explains, “People like this sort of thing, and it sells, but we cannot excite the good mothers and fathers shopping with their children, now, can we?”

  “I’ve heard about this. The big stores might get their own version, and sometimes even the songs are changed.”

  Mr. Carter makes two fists and presses them together. “Art, meet commerce.” He laughs loudly, his deep voice filling the room.

  Maggie laughs, her high voice dancing over top of his.

  I swallow hard, trying not to crack.

  They both laugh louder and louder, like they’re in a contest.

  Both of them have such cold eyes, though. The tension in this room feels like it could choke us all.

  He stops laughing and holds up two mockups.

  “Those are the options?” I ask.

  He looks deeply into my eyes. I feel like I’m falling backward, under the power in his green eyes. And… weirdly enough, I want him to catch me. I want to trust him.

  His message promised that my loyalty would be rewarded. I want to believe that’s true.

  He looks down at the necklace I’m wearing. I’ve got the key pendant on again, for good luck. He doesn’t react, but looks back up to my eyes.

  “Choose,” he says.

  Maggie answers first. “The apple. They’ll think of the snake, even without seeing the snake.”

  Mr. Morris holds me with his eyes, waiting for my answer.

  For an instant, I feel like he’s holding open a door for me. All I have to do is step through. He’s the one with the power, and he’ll hold onto it. The company he founded will remain in his control. If I want a career in the music industry, and to keep Dylan’s deal, I should choose him.

  “Well? Should I trust Ms. Clark?” he asks.

  I squint at the two mockups in his hands. There’s no way Wal-Mart will stock the one with the snake. I can see the tops of the singer’s nipples.

  “Yes,” I say. My voice comes out cracked. I cough to clear my throat. “Of course. She’s right about the apple.”

  “Very good.” He quickly rakes everything across his desk and back into the folder. “You may go now.”

  I stand, and he stands, reaching across the massive desk to shake my hand. I wasn’t expecting to shake his hand, or I would have rubbed the clammy sweat off on my clothes.

  My palm is slippery against his.

  His handshake is perfect. Confident and warm. His palm isn’t sweating.

  This is why people shake hands at business meetings. To intimidate each other. To find out if the other person is soaking wet with perspiration under her blazer.

  My hand slides out of his, and his eyes flicker with understanding.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  I turn and walk out of the office, to the elevator.

  The door to his office stays open. I can hear the two of them discussing upcoming meetings.

  Maggie laughs and sounds cheerful. I’m sure she’s seething under the surface.

  As I take the elevator back down, I try to keep my face neutral and my body language calm. I glance around for the hidden cameras, but they’re well hidden.

  Did he hear what I said to Nick in the elevator? If he didn’t, it’s an awfully big coincidence that he called me within minutes.

  Did I just make everything worse?

  He asked me if he should trust Maggie Clark, and I said yes.

  But then he shook my hand, and my sweaty palm said no.

  Now I don’t know what’s going to happen.

  But I’m pretty sure it’s going to be terrible.

  Chapter 11

  The elevator stops on every floor on the way to the basement.

  People step on and off, ignoring the sweaty, brown-haired girl shrinking into the corner.

  “So many layoffs,” one woman says to her friend.

  “I’m updating my resume,” says the other.

  They leave, and two more come on.

  “Can I use you as a reference?” one asks the other.

  “Shush. The walls have eyes and ears.”

  They go silent.

  I’m alone when I get to the basement floor.

  Nick is hunched over his desk.

  “Everything’s fine,” I say evenly. “Mr. Morris wanted to ask me about some packaging for Wal-Mart. You’re fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I hate lying to Nick, but he’s already lied to me so many times.

  Thinking about his lies gets me riled up.

  In a way, Nick and his mother deserve to have this whole thing blow up in their faces. They didn’t build this company. Mr. Morris did. So what if Maggie Clark got strung along by him, romantically or business-wise, or whatever? She’s a grown-up. I’m sure the Vice President position pays well.

  “Everything’s going to work out,” I tell Nick. “Have you eaten? I’ll go up to the cafeteria and bring something back.”

  “Okay,” he says.

  “Am I allowed to use the elevator? I promise I won’t talk to anyone.”

  “I don’t know. Fine.”

  I grab my purse from the desk and go back upstairs to buy us some food.

  People in the cafeteria stare at me. If people have been treating Nick this way for years, I can almost understand his secrecy.

  I grab some food and get out of there as fast as I can.

  Nick is hunched over his desk when I return. He seems like he’s given up.

  We eat some pastries and drink our coffee in silence.

  I pull out my phone and find that I got some messages while I was above ground.

  The first is from Dylan:

  Midnight Swimmer Girl,

  The deal went through on the house. Words cannot express how excited I am about going for more midnight swims with you. I will have to show you, in person. Or write a song about it. My new producer says my love songs are shit. I think I just haven’t written the right one. He should meet you, so he understands. He’ll fall in love with you, like I have. We need to do more research. I’ll pick you up from work at 5:30.

  D.

  The next message was sent just minutes ago, and it’s from a blocked number.

  You’ll be sorry.

  Q.

  The phone drops from my hand and lands in the worst possible way. The screen cracks.

  Nick is watching me with interest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I throw the phone into my purse.

  “You cracked your screen.”

  “Mind your own business,” I snap.

  With a groan, he sits up straight.

  “Thanks for the food. I feel better,” he says. “My treat tomorrow.”

  “If there is a tomorrow.”

  He reaches into his pocket. “Good point. There is no tomorrow. How much was my share of the food?”

  “So it is happening right now? The big takeover?”

  “Yes. That’s partly why I was having my quiet moment.”

  “Oh. And what else?”

  Nick’s shoulder shrug up. “I shouldn’t say.”

  I stare at him, willing him to crack.

  Finally, he admits, “Q is definitely David Ambler. And the man is a genius. But he’s not a nice man. My mother didn’t tell me he was involved in this, because I would have tried to stop her.”

  “Is he bad news?”

  Nick blinks. “He doesn’t forgive and forget.”

  I pull my phone out of my purse, pull up the message he sent me as Q, and show it to Nick.

  “Should I be worried?” I as
k.

  “Probably just a warning.” He hands me back the phone. “Keep your mouth shut, and you’ll be fine.”

  Nick is lying. I know, because his eye contact is suddenly really intense.

  “I’m sure you’re right.” I put my phone away and try to believe Nick’s lie.

  * * *

  We spend the rest of the day doing our pointless work.

  The phone doesn’t ring again, but we keep looking at it.

  We’re both too tired of being asked what we know by the other employees, so we don’t go back up to the cafeteria. Nick has some granola bars in his bag, so we eat those instead of leaving for lunch.

  We start tidying up to leave after five.

  I notice that Nick is gathering up all of his personal things. He even picks up the spare change he’s been tossing in an empty paper clip box on his desk.

  There is no tomorrow.

  I look around my space and do the same.

  We take the elevator up to the lobby together.

  We leave, through security, and walk outside.

  Nick says my name, and when I turn to him, he hugs me.

  It’s not a powerful hug. He’s timid, but he hangs on for a while.

  He doesn’t say as much, but this is goodbye.

  “Nick, call me tonight,” I say.

  “I can’t.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  He pulls away and runs off, his all-black clothing helping him disappear.

  As I’m staring after him, my eye is caught by a car’s passenger door being pushed open from the inside. I recognize it as Dylan’s car. I jog over and slip into the passenger seat.

  “Today has been crazy,” I exhale.

  Dylan’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t see his eyes. His mouth is pressed closed tightly.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  His voice is as cold as ice. “You tell me. Was it worth two thousand dollars to seduce me?”

  Chapter 12

  Dylan is driving slowly.

  I wish he would squeal the tires and dart from lane to lane. Then I could pretend everything’s okay.

  “Tell me it was worth two grand to use me,” he says.

  “I never used you.”

  He turns to give me a disdainful look. I can’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses, but his upper lip curls up in disgust.

  “I knew,” he growls. “As soon as you told me where you worked, I knew you were tainted. Poison goods. But I didn’t listen to my gut.”

  My breathing is shallow, and I don’t know how I feel. My eyes are burning, like I might cry at any moment, but I’m also angry. He’s not even giving me a chance to explain. Someone told him about the money, and he believed them. There’s no doubt in his voice at all.

  “Dylan, it’s just money. I took it because I liked you anyway. I’m no different from you.”

  He makes a disgusted sound.

  “You love music,” I explain. “And you took a deal to record songs, for money.”

  “Calling me a sellout is not helping your case.”

  “My case? So, you’re the judge and jury here? Nice.”

  Inside my head, a chorus of voices screams all the angry thoughts I’ve ever had about Dylan. He’s always pushing my boundaries. He likes me off-balance. He doesn’t tell me the whole truth, even when I ask. And I don’t really matter to him. Not like his music career. I amuse and inspire him. When he has the time.

  The anger and hurt builds up inside me. I clench my fists to keep my words inside.

  “You’re not even denying it.” His voice is low and scratchy, like a damaged recording.

  “Don’t act like you’re so innocent and injured. You knew who I worked for when I chased you out of the board room. And what did you do? You practically kidnapped me and threw me in your car.”

  He keeps driving slowly, watching the road. He gives no sign that he’s hearing my words.

  “You dragged me to your place,” I say, spitting out the words. “I didn’t ask to go to your place. You were playing games with me from the minute we met, with your two minutes game. You wanted to scare me, dominate me. You threw me down on your couch and started pawing at my panties like a dirty old man.”

  “Wow,” he says sarcastically. “Don’t hold back, Jess.”

  “I’m the idiot, because I still liked you. I thought there was another side of you. Little did I know there was just more of the same, with a few moments where you act like you give a shit about anyone but yourself.”

  “At least you got paid,” he says. “I guess we’re both winners, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

  “Did Q tell you about the money? About the two thousand?”

  “Q told me a lot of things.”

  “Like what?” I reach over and yank off his sunglasses so I can see his eyes. “There isn’t anything else. I’m sorry I took the two grand. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but that’s the only thing I did wrong.”

  He shoots me a look, his brown eyes so dark they’re black.

  “I found the cameras you planted,” he says.

  I shake my head adamantly. “No. I didn’t put those cameras there. They were already in the place. The firehall belongs to someone at Morris. They’re the ones who set off the false alarm that night.”

  He gives me a hurt look, shaking his head.

  “And you didn’t tell me? People were watching me, spying on me, and you didn’t tell me?” He turns to face the road and swallows hard, his adam’s apple rising up and down with effort.

  I hold my hand to my face in shame. He’s right. Taking the money wasn’t the only thing I did wrong.

  My throat is so tight, I can hardly speak.

  I squeak out, “I fucked up, okay? I’m sorry, but you’re not always easy to talk to.”

  “Don’t put this on me,” he says softly. “This is all on you, Jess.”

  I sink back in my seat.

  “I’m sorry.” I sound pathetic, but it’s all I can think to say. “Dylan, I’m really sorry.”

  His voice is scratchy as he answers, “Don’t apologize. You’ve done me a great favor, by reminding me that nobody is who they pretend to be. Everyone’s out for themselves, and if you’re not the player, you’re the one being played.”

  “I really care about you.”

  “You only care about yourself. Listen, Jess. You’re a hot little piece of ass. I had fun.” The tires squeal as he takes a hard right turn and pulls up alongside the sidewalk. “Now get out of my life.”

  I look out the window at where we are. This is not a great part of the city. There are junkies and prostitutes up and down this street.

  My whole body starts to shake. “Dylan, I can’t get out of the car here.”

  “Of course you can. This is where you belong. Now get the fuck out of my car before I throw you out.”

  Choking back a sob, I push open the door.

  I wait for him to change his mind, to say we can talk.

  He revs the engine.

  I turn to look at him. Everything’s blurry from my tears.

  He won’t even look at me.

  He’s already checked out.

  I turn away and climb out of the car. My tears fall freely as I carefully close the door.

  As soon as the door clicks, he hits the gas and squeals away.

  I brush away my tears with the back of my hand.

  I look around to get my bearings.

  Nobody is even looking my way.

  A girl crying and walking down the street alone is nothing to look twice at here.

  Chapter 13

  I’m completely numb by the time I get home.

  Riley and Amanda are in the living room, playing games on their phones with the TV on.

  “Dylan broke up with me,” I say.

  As soon as I hear the words, the numbness goes away. It’s replaced by pain. My knees buckle, and I sink down to the ground.

  The girls race around in a panic. Amanda gets me onto the couch.
Riley checks my eyes, then hands me a pill.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Riley says.

  I stare down at the pill in my hand.

  “It’s just Percocet,” she says.

  Amanda takes the pill and breaks it in half for me.

  “I took these after my root canal,” Amanda says. “Start with half.”

  I put both halves in my mouth and dry swallow.

  They both leave and go to the kitchen. I can hear them talking about me.

  They come back, and Riley hands me a glass of water. I start to drink. I’m surprised by how thirsty I am. I drink the whole glass.

  “He broke up with me,” I say. “I need to get him back.”

  Riley and Amanda, both standing in front of me, exchange a look.

  “You tell her,” Riley says.

  Amanda leans forward and pats me on the knee. “Maybe it’s for the best. You were miserable all weekend.”

  “How would you know? You were mad at me, Amanda. You didn’t even say boo to me.”

  “Because you wouldn’t leave your room,” she says.

  “You used to do this when you were younger,” Riley says. “You retreat into your room when something’s wrong in your life. You did it all the time when I lived with you and Nan.”

  I turn my head, looking back and forth between the two of them in confusion. I think the pill is kicking in already. My head feels lighter now. I blink hard and try to focus my eyes.

  “Sometimes I like to be alone,” I say to Riley. My voice sounds a million miles away.

  Riley sits on the couch next to me. “My own life was already fucked up by then,” she says. “But you still had your spark, Jess. You were young, and you were good in school. I could see that I was hurting you, and Nan. That’s why I left.”

  I turn and blink at her, even more confused. Her brown eyes are shining.

  “Riley, what are you talking about? You were there, and then you just left. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

  She puts her arm around my shoulders and rocks me.

  “I left for your own good,” she says, her voice cracking. “I was so toxic, I thought I’d be dead in a year. And I didn’t want to destroy you with me.”