“Okay,” she said. “I believe you. And I get it. I’m sorry I stormed off, too. I had a bad experience with a jealous boyfriend, and it’s still pretty recent. So I’m extra sensitive in that department.”

  Great. Not only had I made an ass of myself, but I'd gone and accidentally triggered what sounded like her biggest red flag. I knew I was taking a dangerous step by trying to mend the damage with a lie, but I was reasonably sure I'd only do more damage with the truth. How would it sound if I tried to throw Damian under the bus, especially if I explained how much was personally at stake for me? She'd just think I was trying to talk her into breaking things off with him to protect myself.

  I may not like it, but lying—no, withholding the truth—was my best option for now.

  “Is this it?” I asked, pointing to a sign for an apartment complex off a busy commercial road.

  “Yep. This is my crib.”

  I pulled into the parking lot out front. I hadn't been wealthy for my whole life, so looking at Nell's apartment complex didn't feel precisely like culture shock. Instead, I only felt a deep, pulsing desire to get her out of here. The building was crusted with mold, and the cars in the parking lot were battered, sun-bleached, and old. Two guys in white tank tops were huddled by the side of the building with their heads close together.

  “I’ll walk you up,” I said suddenly.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “No. I insist.”

  Nell didn’t protest again as she led me up the three flights of stairs to her floor. We traveled down a short hallway, and then I waited while she had to jiggle and force her key into the lock.

  “It gets stuck sometimes. Just takes—” she grunted with effort and finally got the key to slam into the hole. “Some convincing.”

  She opened the door just barely a crack and then turned to smile awkwardly at me. “Well.”

  “Well…”

  “I’d better get going. Damian did say he was going to have a stylist coming by.”

  “Yeah,” I said, but I didn’t move.

  Nell laughed, then smiled. “This is usually the part where you kind of just walk off, I think.”

  “That’s one version of how it goes. The other is you inviting me in.”

  Nell’s face went white. I immediately regretted what I’d said. As much as I thought I’d felt the chemistry between us rekindling, her reaction told me I’d completely misread her.

  “Right.” I shook my head and laughed softly at myself. “When it comes to you, I apparently have a serious case of foot in mouth. I’ll just—”

  “Uh, wait.” Nell sucked in a deep breath and blew it out as she looked toward her door. “Wait here a second.” She slammed the door in my face.

  I stood there, feeling confused until I heard the rattle and thump of somebody hastily cleaning up. Plates clattered in the sink, from the sound of it, and then something heavy thudded down on the floor. I heard a muffled “shitttt,” followed by several long, hissing intakes of breath. After nearly a minute, Nell opened the door again. She was rubbing her knee and wincing. “Well, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t at least offer you a bag of frozen peas after punching you in the face?”

  11

  NELL

  Harry didn’t look like he fit in my apartment—figuratively or literally. He must’ve been pushing six feet and four inches, maybe taller, which made the already low ceilings look practically cave-like. Then there was the casual way everything about him seemed to scream money: his clothes, his hair, even his skin. It was like you could’ve covered him in mud, thrown him in a cardboard box, and it still would’ve been obvious that he was somebody who had done great things and was still destined to do more.

  And he was standing on a pair of my panties that were waiting to go to the laundromat a few blocks over.

  I cleared my throat and motioned for him to move toward the couch. I hoped he wouldn’t look down or behind him to see the pile of clothes Davey and I had built up for our weekly laundry trip. Once Harry took a step toward the couch, I kicked the panties into the pile and moved one of Davey’s shirts to cover them.

  “I know it’s really depressing in here,” I said. I bent down and shoved a pile of newspaper pages that Davey had left scattered on the couch. He loved reading the paper, but he also never understood how to put it back together when he was done.

  “Woah,” Harry asked. He moved to the closet where I’d stuffed all my sculptures in and tried to jam the door closed before he came in. He picked a clay sculpture up and turned it slowly with a confused look on his face. “Is this a woman, or is it a…”

  I took it from his hand, shoved it back in the closet, and rammed my shoulder into the door until it closed. “Sorry it’s such a mess in here,” I said, hoping to distract him and avoid explaining my closet full of crappy art.

  “Don’t apologize,” Harry said. “I didn’t always live in a stuffy mansion with butlers.”

  “Wait, you have butlers?”

  “Would this be a bad time to announce that I’m in the room?” Davey asked.

  He pulled back the thin curtain that covered the corner where his bed was stashed.

  I had been about to sit down, but the sound of Davey’s voice made me half-jump. My foot caught on the coffee table and caused me to nearly topple to the ground.

  Davey, who had an unfortunate habit of being overly dramatic, charged from where he had been sitting on his bed and tried to jump over the back of the couch. I wasn't sure what his plan was—rescue, maybe—but it ended when his stubby legs couldn't clear the sofa, and he ended up flipping over to crash on Harry, who had just sat down.

  I put my hands to my head, not sure if I should laugh or cry. “By the way,” I said softly. “I have a roommate.”

  Harry had to do a kind of shoulder press move to get Davey off of him. I didn’t fail to notice the way Harry’s muscles flexed and strained against his black shirt as he did, either. Davey flopped to the couch where Harry dropped him and struck a kind of laying down pose with one hand under his cheek and the other on his hip. He looked at me and wiggled his eyebrows. “He’s strong. Oh, damn. What happened to his face?”

  “Davey,” I said warningly. Unfortunately, there was a decent sized lump on Harry’s cheek that was already turning a shade of blue. I was absolutely not going to admit that one of my hobbies during college had been playing the Wii boxing game. Apparently, all those hours of cardio throwing punches at my TV screen had given me some unexpected power.

  Harry got up with his hair in disarray. Of course, the messy hair just made me think about how good he’d look after a little rough and tumble time in the sheets. “And you’re heavier than you look.”

  Davey shrugged nonchalantly. “You know what they say. Muscle weighs more than fat.”

  Harry grinned. “Right.”

  “Davey, could you please… just…”

  “Drinks?” he asked, popping up. “We’ve got ice water, hot water, room temperature water…” he rummaged through the cabinets and held up a salt shaker. “Saltwater?”

  “Ice water would be good,” Harry said.

  Davey pulled open the freezer. “Scratch that. The ice machine is broken again. I could just blow on it for a few minutes. What was that trick you taught me, Nell? When you breathe, hoo, it’s cold, and haa is hot? Or was it the other way around?”

  I was blushing so hard I thought my cheeks might just melt right off my face at any second. I was going to kill Davey when this was over. Slowly. Maybe I’d even buy some of those metal paddle things off the internet so I could bring him back a few times and kill him again.

  Davey walked over to Harry while blowing on a glass of tap water. Harry took the glass, gave it a distrustful look, and set it beside the couch.

  “How do you two know each other, exactly?” Harry asked.

  “Friends since Kindergarten,” I said.

  “Oh, come on,” Davey said. He walked over and put his arm around me like we were drinking buddies. “The fact that we’ve been friends a long time is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve been there for Nell through thick and thin. Crazy ex-boyfriends. Stomach troubles,” he added with a meaningful look.

  I stomped on his toes and gave him my best glare. I tried to talk quietly without moving my lips. “You can leave through the door or the window. You pick.”

  Davey sized me up, decided I was at least annoyed enough to make him regret pissing me off, and tipped an imaginary hat toward Harry. “It was nice to meet you, but I think I hear my friends calling me.”

  Once the door closed, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “I’m sorry about him. In his head, I think he thinks he’s being protective. Only a guy who really likes me would stay after he’s done. Or something like that,” I muttered.

  Harry gestured to himself on the couch. “Looks like I’m still here.”

  I blushed again. “Maybe you’re just waiting for those frozen peas.”

  “Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you about this whole gala with Maya North thing.”

  I stiffened but tried to look normal as I sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “What about it?” I asked slowly.

  “Damian Cross is… I’m sure he’s great at what he does. But I also think there are some ways I could help you. My help would be free, of course. I guess I just feel a sense of obligation to help since it all started in my gardens.”

  I nodded. I’d considered the potential for trouble if Harry decided my art was ultimately made out of his bush. I couldn’t be sure, but it felt like he was subtly trying to hint that he’d make trouble if I didn’t agree. “Are you threatening me?” I asked.

  Harry reeled back. “What? No. Hell no.” He laughed. “Jesus, what did Damian tell you?”

  “Nothing. I’m just—I don’t know. This is all really new to me, and it feels like I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

  “See? You really could use my help. I happen to have professional and personal experience with that. All I’m asking is that you have a few conversations with me. Let me give you some general pointers and tips. That’s it.”

  I chewed the idea over. I might feel conflicted about Harry and how to handle him, but I wasn’t going to even try to deny the attraction I had toward him. I needed to be careful that I didn’t let myself throw away an opportunity for a romantic flame. Ashley needed me to make this work, and I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye if I knew I’d risked her future for my own selfish desires.

  “You promise it will be strictly business?” I asked.

  Harry drew an “x” over his heart. “Cross my heart.”

  I grinned. “Okay. Fine. We can work something out.”

  “Perfect. What about tonight?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. Remember? Damian has some sort of party he wanted me to go to. And I’ve got lunch with him.”

  Harry swallowed and paused just long enough that I could see he wasn’t thrilled about any of that. “Okay. Tomorrow, then?”

  “Tomorrow,” I agreed.

  “You said your uncle used to take you fishing, right? Why don’t we go out on my boat? No hooks,” he added quickly. “Just fishing rods and empty lines. It’ll be less cliché than meeting in a coffee shop.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “That sounds a little bit like blurring the lines between business and pleasure to me.”

  “I’ll do my best to make sure it’s not pleasurable at all. No fun.”

  I bit back a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.” Harry stood up and reached to shake my hand. I took it and shook, feeling more than a little awkward. He looked like he wanted to say something but decided to keep it to himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  I practically melted into the couch once he left. I didn’t know what to think about our little fishing excursion tomorrow. But I thought I’d seen a glint of something dangerous in Harry—something that made me wonder if I was really going to have to wait until tomorrow to see him again.

  12

  HARRY

  “Do I need to remind you this is a bad idea?” William asked.

  I straightened my tie and shook my head. We were standing outside the Apex Hotel downtown. The entire lobby had been rented out to host a huge party for all the big names in art, from collectors to artists. William had enough of a reputation that he'd been invited to the party. Once I found out, I may have planted the idea for him to invite me.

  “It’s only kind of a bad idea,” I said. “A really bad idea would be trusting Damian Cross to be a decent human being. For all I know, she’ll need me here to save her.”

  “No. A really bad idea would be stalking the girl who clearly has a pet peeve when it comes to jealous, possessive guys. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I happen to love watching chaos unfold, and you just gave me front row tickets. I only thought it was my responsibility as your friend to point out the obvious.”

  I sighed. “Consider it pointed out. Let’s go. And you need to stay close to me in case Nell catches me. Your job is to back me up on the fact that you invited me and wanted me here as an advisor.”

  William made a tsk tsk sound. “I’d say I hope all these little bits of raw chicken don’t catch up with you, but I honestly can’t wait to watch the raw chicken hit the fan, either. So please, keep it coming.”

  I glared. “Sometimes, the only way to do the right thing is getting your hands dirty.”

  William showed his ID to a man at the door who checked it against a list, then nodded for us to proceed inside. “Getting your hands dirty. Like two in the pink and one in the stink? Or are you talking figuratively?”

  “Figuratively,” I said through a tight jaw.

  “Oh, look. There they are,” William said cheerily.

  The lobby of the hotel was filled with art and wide, open space. Nell and Damian were standing in a circle of people who were talking excitedly. Nell’s hair was now a deep shade of purple with a single streak of white. She still looked beautiful, but I felt myself clenching my hands to think that Damian had chosen it for her. It was as if he’d marked her, and the idea made me want to go up to him and punch him, even if it would’ve meant flushing my career down the toilet.

  “Easy, Rambo,” William said. “If you want him to bleed his own blood, you’ve got to be a little sneakier than that.”

  I realized I’d taken a few steps toward them, and if William hadn’t put a steadying hand on my arm, I might’ve charged right into the group without a plan. “Come with me,” I said.

  William followed along as happily as a child on his way to a playground. I found a big display of a woman’s breasts made out of what looked like chrome. The nipples were glass windows, and I discovered we could stand inside the breasts, using the windows to keep an eye on Nell.

  William whistled appreciatively. A woman nearby turned her head, mistaking the noise for a catcall.

  “Oh, no, no,” William said quickly. He held up his finger and showed his wedding band. “Only one of us is single. But this guy is trying to fix the whole single thing by spying on his crush through that nipple window there.”

  The woman—a young redhead wearing an attention-grabbing green dress—frowned, then hurried off.

  “It sounds really bizarre when you announce it like that.”

  “Maybe that’s because it is really bizarre? You really think Nell is going to be less pissed that you’re spying on her because she spots you inside giant metal boobs than if you were just lurking in a corner?”

  I inched closer to the window and peered through. “No,” I said quietly. “The idea is that she doesn’t see me. The breasts are for cover.”

  “Breasts,” William scoffed. “You sound like a grandma. Speaking of… She should’ve been here by now.”

  “Who should’ve been here?” I asked, still whispering.

  “Grammy. I told her it was going to be hilarious.”

  I turned to glare at William. “You invited your grandma?”

  “What? No. She’s Hailey’s grandma.”

  Nell and Damian seemed to finish their conversation with the group. Damian turned to say something to Nell once they were alone again and put his hand on her arm as he laughed. Nell was smiling. Was that a forced smile, or was she enjoying it? Shit. I wasn’t close enough to tell.

  “We need to get closer.”

  William grinned. “Yeah. I totally agree. Maybe there are some balls we can crawl inside? A rectum? You had experience crawling into rectums, right? Or… Did I make up the trapped in an anus story?”

  I did my best to ignore him as I casually walked out from behind the breasts and skirted the wall of the gallery. Thankfully, the showroom was lined with sculptures and strange art displays. I was able to move closer without ever risking being seen. I pressed my back against a giant head made out of suspended pieces of garbage on thin, clear strings.

  William scooted in right beside me with a huge grin on his face. “This is perfect. No way she’ll see you between all these thousands of small gaps in the trash face.”

  An elderly woman wearing a huge pearl necklace and a white dress casually walked up and squeezed herself in between the two of us. She smelled like cotton candy, oddly enough.

  “Grammy,” William said happily. “You almost missed it. I think he’s going to get caught soon.”

  “No shit. He might as well be hiding behind a pane of glass. Is your friend…” she made a vague gesture toward her temple and raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh, definitely,” William said.

  “At least he’s cute.” Grammy turned and made a kissing gesture toward me.

  I took a deep, calming breath and looked back toward Damian and Nell. Except… shit. Where were they?

  I hurried out from behind the trash head and nearly bumped into Damian Cross’s chest.

  “Harry?” Damian asked. “I didn’t expect to see you here. And why are you walking like that?”

  I cleared my throat and straightened my back. I hadn’t realized I was crouch walking. “Tweaked my back the other day,” I said. “Deadlifts.”

 

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