Fate: A Trinity Novel: Book Five Page 19
* * *
“Honestly, Kat, I wanted to wring that bitch’s skinny neck!” Chloe tears a piece of fabric, her arm stretching out as far as it will go before she gathers it and does it again. It rips all the way down to the end, leaving flowing blue fabric to fall to the ground.
We are in our workroom, where we fiddle with fabric, embellishments, and other design paraphernalia during the crafting phase. This is where Chloe and I generally come to vent, bitch, moan, and groan about anything—men, work, vendors, staff, friends, whatever it is plaguing our creative sides. We work it out of our systems, surrounded by the one thing that brings us peace all the time. Our creations.
I hold up a broach to a pinned tangerine-colored bodice. “Believe me. I know the feeling. I’m just not sure how it’s all going to work out.”
Chloe rips another shred of the blue fabric, making sure it tears along the grain. “He just needs to kick her ass to the curb, get custody of Cora, and all will be well with the world.”
“Now you sound like Chase.” I frown.
“Well, my cousin isn’t a multi-billionaire mogul because he’s a dimwit. The woman is not stable, Kat. Mark my words. She’s fuming.”
I furrow my brow and focus on finding the right pendant for the tangerine dress…and fail. “I don’t think she’s unstable. A little out in left field, sure. But unstable? I mean, she did raise Cora alone all this time, and the baby is in perfect health.”
Chloe presses her hand to her chin and sits on the edge of the big rectangular craft table. She sets one red suede stiletto on the edge of a nearby chair. Damn, those are some sexy-as-sin shoes.
“I’m not saying she doesn’t love her daughter. That’s obvious. She’s easy to love. Plus, she looks exactly like me.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Auntie Chloe. She’s your spitting image. Enough about it.”
She laughs and rips another swath, this time of dark-purple fabric stained with pink swirls. I have no idea what she’s doing with the mix of colors, but when she throws them on the table against one another, they somehow work together.
“I don’t know, Kat. The way she acted as if you’d stolen her man and calling you a homewrecker? What’s up with that? Did my brother promise something he shouldn’t have?”
I shrug. “I doubt it. Carson is pretty straightforward when he wants something.” I glance over at her to find her grinning like a loon. “Not a word.” I smile, and she plays like she’s zipping up her lips and tossing the key.
We work silently for a few more minutes, content within our own projects, until my phone buzzes on the table.
I grab for it and look at the display. It’s a text identified as an unknown number. I click on it to see the message.
To: Kathleen Bennett
From: Unknown Number
Kathleen it’s Misty. Can we meet. Clear the air?
“What’s up?” Chloe asks, coming over to my side. I dip the phone to her so she can read it. “Huh. You should go. Maybe the whack-a-doo will apologize and the two of you can somehow be friends. For Cora?”
I cringe. “Friends? I’m not sure that’s in our future, but being civil would be good. Especially for Carson and Cora. I know the divide is killing him.”
Chloe pats my arm. “Well, then go. What’s the harm?”
“Should I tell your brother?”
“Hell, no! Are you insane? Not until after, and only if it goes well. Haven’t you learned it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission?” She shakes her head like I’m dumber than dirt.
I pinch my lips together and think about it. It could be an opportunity for the two of us to air our grievances and find a way to work together. Cora is going to need her mommy and stepmommy to be friendly in order to grow up well adjusted.
Then it dawns on me what I just said. Stepmommy. As if I’d already added the title to my résumé. Shit. I need to keep that to myself, or at the very least, talk to Dr. Madison about it. Definitely not Carson. He’d have us on the first flight to Vegas by morning.
I add her contact into my phone and type out my message to her.
To: Misty Duncan
From: Kathleen Bennett
Sure. When and where?
Her response is immediate.
To: Kathleen Bennett
From: Misty Duncan
Friday evening. Bubba’s Bar on Colfax. 8 pm?
Colfax. A rough neighborhood. And eight at night. She has a daughter to take care of. Then again, she still has Carson at night. Last I heard, he’s still working out how to get her comfortable with the idea of the new apartment. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and then I remember Carson loves me. He wants me. That doesn’t change the fact they have a child together and I am never going to get rid of this woman. Ever. I have to find a way to get along for Cora’s and Carson’s sake.
I type back one word.
To: Misty Duncan
From: Kathleen Bennett
Fine.
There really isn’t anything more to say. Whatever is going to happen, we’ll hash it out on Friday night.
* * *
The bar is dark as I push through the wooden door. The stale stink of cigarettes, grease, and sawdust hits my nose, and I cringe. There are a few Harleys out front sitting under the one functioning parking-lot light. The building from the outside is old and looks as though it could fall down at any moment. The inside isn’t much better, though I can see the support beams doing their job from this angle. A ratty bar sits at the back wall with a bulky, sweaty man wearing a bandanna and a wifebeater behind it. He gives me a chin lift.
I approach him slowly, evaluating my surroundings to determine if I need to beat feet out of there. The vibe of the place is off-the-charts creepy and not a place my friends or I would naturally frequent. Still, I promised I’d be here to meet Misty, and here I am, ten minutes early. I should have waited in my car.
“What’ll it be?”
I blink at the scary bartender and he grins a crooked, yellow-teethed version of what I think is a smile. Or maybe it’s a snarl.
“Uh, I’m waiting for someone,” I mutter and pull out a stool. It has flecks of peanut shells on the torn black leather. I pull a hankie out of my coat pocket, wipe off the shells and muck, and then sit my ass in the chair.
“You can drink while you wait.” He leans both hands on the bar opposite me and glares. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were entering a stare off.
“Sure. Ah…how about a rum and Coke.”
His nostrils flare. “Does this look like a fucking Burger King to you?” He waves the filthy bar cloth he’s holding around the general vicinity.
I glance around, noticing wooden chairs, a smattering of tables that have seen better days, a pool table where a couple of bikers are shooting pool, and not much else.
“No,” I hedge.
“No. We’ve got Jack, Johnny, and José. And beer. Cold from the tap.”
“I’ll take a Jack and Coke.”
He squints and snarls while making my drink, filling it mostly full of Jack with a splash of something that looks more clear than brown. Guess it’s Jack and water. He sets the drink on top of the bar. It sloshes over the edge, but I don’t say anything.
Right then, Misty bustles in, her blond hair pulled back into a demure ponytail. Her entire body from head to toe is covered in black. Black jeans, black belt, shoes, and a long-sleeved shirt. She looks like a bandit, but I keep that to myself too.
“Bubba, I’ll have a shot of José and a chaser,” she says cheerily to the creepy man as she sits next to me. Then she glances my way and sets her purse down in front of her. “Thank you for coming.”
“’Course. You wanted to talk. I want us to be able to talk. Carson’s and Cora’s happiness is all that matters to me.” I lay my cards on the table right away, hoping she’ll do the same.
Something dark slides over her brown eyes but then disappears just as quickly. Bubba places the shot and a beer in front of her.
“Girl. You look good. Better than before. Your man treating you right?” he says on a snarl.
Her eyes go straight to me and back to the surly man. “Absolutely. Best man in the whole world. Greatest father my Cora could ever have.” She preens, and I know her words are genuine. That doesn’t change the fact they are about my man. Fuck. This woman not only wants Carson, she’s half in love with him or nearly a step away from completely in love with him already.
“Now”—she turns to me, sucks back the shot, chases it with the beer, and then slams the empty on the counter—“what’s it going to take to get you to go away?”
Her words hit me like a Mack truck.
“Excuse me?” I cock my head back, not sure of what I’ve just heard.
“You heard me. I need you gone. Carson and I have a child. I’m living in his house. He’s fucking me, and he’s fucking you. I want him to stop fucking you and for you to disappear. So, what is it going to take?” She blinks slowly, waiting for me to catch up.
I bring my hands up and flail them in front of me like I’m swatting away a horde of angry bees. “Wait a good goddamn minute. Carson is not fucking you. Don’t even try to lie to me. He’d never cheat.” I know this simple fact like I know I don’t need another hole in my head.
A sly grin crosses her lips. “It’s cute you really believe that.”
“With my entire being,” I deadpan.
She laughs and knocks her beer over. It lands in my lap. I jump up and away, but it’s too late. I’m tagged by most of a pint. “Fuck!”
Misty stands, grabs the ratty towel on the bar, and tries to wipe it off. “My goodness me. I’m so sorry. Let me get that.” She pats at my wet clothes, the dress I’d worn to work today completely ruined. I’d never get the beer stink off one hundred percent silk.
“Go on to the bathroom. There’s some towels. I’ll wait here,” she says, and I go, mostly to get away from her and get my bearings.
He’s fucking me, and he’s fucking you. I want him to stop fucking you.
Those were her exact words.
Carson would not cheat.
It’s cute you believe that.
I grab a handful of towels, run them under the cold water, and blot at my dress. It’s no use. Definitely ruined. Doesn’t matter. I need to get to the bottom of what she’d said. I pat away most the moisture and take a look at myself in the hazy mirror above the dirty sink.
“She’s playing you. Don’t believe her lies,” I tell my reflection in the mirror.
Don’t believe her lies.
Don’t believe her lies.
Don’t believe her lies.
I chant the phrase in my head over and over until I make it back and sit down next to her. I pick up my Jack and water and chug it until it’s gone. She smiles and her eyes light up like Christmas Day at Disneyland. The burn of the whiskey hits my belly hard. That’s when I turn to her.
“Prove it,” I sneer, leaning against the bar.
“Prove what?”
“That Carson is cheating on me.” The words come out smooth, but my insides are churning.
She snickers, pulls the cowl neck of her shirt aside, and shows me a couple hickeys on the valleys of her breasts. “He made those last night.”
I laugh, unable to hold back my amusement. “You honestly think I’m going to believe you were fucking Carson last night because of a couple of hickeys? Anyone could have put those there.”
She nonchalantly picks up her phone. “A picture is worth a thousand words. Here’s a handful of them. What’s that worth? Like a million?” Her words are chilling as she hands me her phone.
My heart stops. The Jack in my stomach swirls in a violent vortex as I look at the horrifying display in full color. Carson lying down, bare-chested, Misty in a black lace bra and thong on top of him. Her lips on his chest.
I swipe to the right.
Carson lying down, his hand on her thigh, his head turned toward her breast.
I swipe to the right.
Carson with a fully naked Misty straddling him. His head back, arms stretched to the side, her body arched in what could only be ecstasy while riding him.
My mind buzzes and I see stars. I need air. Right now. I hold her phone tight and run out of the bar, leaving my purse and my sanity. I’ve got my car keys clutched in one hand and her phone in the other. I don’t know where to go or what to do. The hot burn of tears rushes down my face as I glance around in the darkness, not knowing where the fuck I am. My entire life is crumbling before me. Then my car comes into focus. I stumble toward it.
All I can see behind my eyelids is her body arched over his. Naked.
I stash the phone in my back pocket as Misty comes screaming out of the bar.
“Wait. You can’t leave. We’re not done talking. You have my phone!”
“I don’t care. I don’t care about anything!” I cry as she reaches my car. My door is open, and she tosses my purse past me and into the car, and then holds out her hand.
“Kathleen, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I really hoped he’d be the one to tell you,” she says, sounding half human, almost kind. None of it makes any sense.
I grip the door as a bout of dizziness rushes over me. I brace myself on the car. “You can fucking have him! I’m done.” The tears blur my vision as I tumble into my car. I put it into reverse, screech out of the parking lot, and head out along the road that follows the bay.
He’s fucking me, and he’s fucking you.
I slam my hand on the steering wheel and barely register the pain as it ripples up my arm. The tears are falling so fast I can’t wipe them away quick enough. My head hurts, and a pounding starts behind my eyes. The vortex of Jack in my stomach spins in an endless acidic circle, and I cough and just barely avoid vomiting.
He’s fucking me, and he’s fucking you.
I press my foot to the gas pedal and push through the dizziness. The car lurches forward at a speed that seems to give me more control. I shake my head and swerve past a stream of rainbow lights. Car horns blare and I swear again.
He’s fucking me, and he’s fucking you.
I sob and cry out, screaming. I’m so tired. So tired of always fighting. More lights stream along both sides of my car, as if they are so close I can touch the rainbow. I roll down the window and the cold air blasts against my face. I close my eyes, feeling the darkness settling over me. More horns blare but they sound far away. Until the sound of metal hitting metal and a world of pain hits my head with a blow so hard I lose control and float into the ether.
Everything goes blessedly black.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CARSON
“Wake the fuck up.” A firm hand slaps at my cheeks, jarring the slosh that is my brain right now. “Carson, wake up.” This time water is splashed on my face.
“Jesus…” I barely get the word out before nausea hits my gut. I tumble out of bed, running into walls and fumbling to the toilet, where I throw up.
“He’s sick. You should go.” I hear Misty’s tight voice from somewhere in the other room.
“I’m not going anywhere. Kat’s hurt. She needs him.” Chase’s voice. I hear Chase. Why the fuck is my cousin here? Why does my head hurt so much?
Kat’s hurt.
I try to speak, but another bout of nausea rips through me and I heave over the bowl again. Whatever bit of food and water I had inside me comes out over and over again until I’m hacking up bile.
“You hungover?” Chase asks, handing me a wet cloth.
No man. I didn’t even have a drink is what I mean to say. What comes out is, “Nah mah, I no drink.”
“Sick?” He clasps my forehead. “Fuck, you’re burning up.”
“I no know. I no remember.” My mouth feels funny and my head is dizzy. My tongue is swollen to double its size. Speaking clearly takes serious effort. The room tilts and sways as I attempt to stand up.
Chase’s jaw tightens. “You need to get your shit together. Kat�
��s been in a car accident. Four-car pileup on the freeway, and it looks like it’s her fault. They’re thinking DUI.”
I run the wet cloth over my face and it feels like heaven. If I could crawl into the sink and let the water pour over me right now, I so would. Then a thought hits me. “Kat doesn’t drink and d-drive,” I stutter. “She Ubers everywhere.” I get this out around the cotton coating my tongue and throat.
“Well, I don’t know what happened. The doctors are trying to figure it out. We’ll know more when the tests come back.”
“Tests? What kind of tests?” Misty’s voice is high-pitched and piercing my ear. I glance her way and notice she’s bobbing Cora on her hip. I blink rapidly, seeing three of each of them streaming bits of color with every movement.
Chase crosses his arms over his chest and stares at her. “The kind that tells a judge how much she’s had to drink and if she’s on any drugs.”
Misty’s eyes widen and she nods. “Wow. I hope she’s okay.”
“She’ll live.” Then he focuses on me as I’m trying to put a long-sleeved shirt on. The holes are so much smaller than they used to be. Eventually, it dawns on me that I’m cold. My bottom half is completely naked. What? I haven’t slept naked since Cora and Misty moved in. I’m always in sleep pants just to be safe. Why the hell am I naked?
The questions swirl around in my head, but I’m unable to hold on to any one thought long enough to make any sense of it. I’m so tired. My head is pounding so hard I lean against the wall and press my temples.
“You don’t look good, man.” Chase grips me by the arm and brings me to the bed, where he sits me down. Then he walks into my closet and comes back with a pair of boxer briefs and jeans. “Here.” He tosses them on the bed next to me. Then he pulls his phone out of his suit coat pocket, brings it to his ear, and says something I can’t make out through the ocean in my head. The waves are crashing so loudly I flinch.
I focus on getting my underwear on one foot at a time, and I gotta admit, it takes more effort than it ever has in my entire life. All I want to do is lie down, let the pounding in my head disappear, and then deal with the day—until I remember Chase said Kat’s hurt. That’s all the motivation I need to get my jeans on. I sway into my cousin when I stand.