Chapter Eighteen

Chase

Once I got over the shock of having Amanda’s thirty-dollar-a-glass wine thrown in my face, I burst out laughing. Per Se’s buzzy atmosphere had died down in a heartbeat, and everyone stared at me, at us. Probably taking mental bets on whether I’d break down crying, start screaming and chase after Amanda Fucking Kimble, or waddle on over to the bar and grab a bottle of the finest tequila in New York City.

Straight.

Sans worm.

“She’s my ex,” I said with a shrug to no one in particular. “She’s always been a little, you know.” I paused mid-sentence to do some circles around my temple with my pointer finger. Shit. I hoped this little episode didn’t make the society page. “But she can be your problem now, if you want her. She may be gorgeous, but her bite is worse than her bark.”

To my surprise, the bar patrons started clapping, and I dipped down into an exaggerated bow to accompany a saucy wink. If I didn’t keep my sense of humor around this situation, I’d let out an inappropriate roar. As I weighed my options in my head, I pulled a linen napkin off the table and started wiping at the front of my shirt. The wine had soaked me through to the skin, and my nipples were like stiff pebbles rubbing against the Egyptian cotton of what had previously been one of my favorite shirts. Dry cleaning better get them out, or AFK would be footing the bill.

I knew I could stay and drink. Drown my substantial sorrows and humiliation. Wasn’t it enough the first time she’d done it? After all, it wasn’t like I’d had any other plans for the night. But I wanted to see Chastity – I wanted to talk to her – to pull her into my arms, to tell her that whatever problems we were having could easily be solved. I knew to the depths of my soul that Chastity would never lose her shit and pull a stunt like throwing cold liquor in a man’s face.

Amanda was my past. One hundred and ten percent ancient history, the kind of bygones I never wanted to think about again. I didn’t want to kiss her on New Year’s; I didn’t want to send her a birthday card. She reminded me of everything I’d hated about myself for so long. My life had basically been a decade-long foreign pub crawl after she’d broken my heart, and while some of it had been fun – hello Amsterdam – most of it had been a careful exercise in brutally ripping my heart into a shredded pulp. Forget putting my heart in a blender – I’d damn near come close to stuffing that blasted organ into a paper shredder and calling the highest-profile waste management company that Banks Realty could provide.

But Chastity… Chastity was my future. She had to be because with her, I felt new. Cleansed. Like I’d had a date with an evangelical preacher and seen the proverbial light. With that in mind, I grabbed my Armani blazer from the back of the chair where I’d carelessly slung it. The other people in the bar had mostly gone back to minding their own business, and by the time I flew through the door to look for Diego, they weren’t even glancing in my general direction. And no photogs. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I scanned the street outside for my town car, momentarily forgetting that I’d taken a cab to meet Amanda. Shit. I needed to put the ever competent Diego on the personal payroll so he’d be at my beck and call. I could afford it. With a sigh, I stepped forward and raised my arm, hailing the first taxi that could swerve toward me. I flung open the door and slipped into the back seat as soon as the grimy yellow cab screeched to a stop. Jesus Christ. My town car expertly piloted by Diego smelled like a high-end department store and it seemed every single NYC cab reeked of a disgusting combo of B.O. and piss. My eyes watered under the assault.

“I bet you’re going uptown,” the driver said with a smirk, eyeing me in the rearview mirror. When I gave him Chastity’s address – Crown Heights, Brooklyn – he snorted.

“Seriously, dude, why is a high-class guy like you slumming?”

“What?” I demanded, sprawling out over the leatherette seat. An underlying layer of cigarette smoke assailed me along with his flippant words. How old was this damn vehicle? It had been illegal to smoke in cabs for years.

“Nothing,” the cabbie said. “Forget it. I probably wouldn’t like your explanation and wouldn’t believe it anyway. I know your kind. You lie just because you can.”

He lowered his eyes to focus on the road as traffic whizzed by. I glowered at the back of his head. I knew exactly why he was surprised. It was a shock that someone dressed in vintage Armani would be going to a neighborhood like Crown Heights. But he shouldn’t have been complaining – the ride out there would probably give him enough in cab fare and tip money to feed his family for the next two weeks, if he was smart enough not to piss me off.

Traffic crawled. My hand flew to my head to worry my hair. I could use a haircut, I thought as my leg bounced triple time on the dirty floor mat. As the cab crawled toward Brooklyn, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed Chastity.

When she didn’t pick up, I frowned. The voicemail clicked on, and I hung up in irritation, wishing I’d left a message as soon as I ended the call. My mind filled with words, spinning and twirling around in a maelstrom of silent verbal assault. I had no idea how to tell Chastity everything I was thinking – that I was falling for her in a big, forever kind of way, that I wanted to be with her for the long haul – without frightening her, but I knew that I had to try.

No… not try. Succeed. Chase Bradenton never lost.

I dialed her again, holding the phone up to my ear and praying she’d answer.

She didn’t. The cab inched through traffic as panic threatened to choke me. By the time we’d arrived in Crown Heights, the sky had turned from a luminescent orange into an inky blackness dotted with stars. Even though they didn’t sparkle in NYC as brightly as cities without as much pollution, I could still see them. All I wanted to do was stand on the sidewalk and stare at the glittering mass of twinkling orbs. With Chastity by my side, holding my hand.

“Sixty-seven dollars and twenty cents, buddy,” the cabbie said.

He turned around and speared me with a triumphant glare. Rolling my eyes, I passed him a Benjamin and told him to keep the change. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he drove off, muffler rattling from the undercarriage.

I bolted up the stairs to Chastity’s apartment two at a time. Pressing my ear to her door, I listened for a moment before knocking. Silence. I wondered if she was sitting in her room, studying, that fat beast of a cat, Trouble, curled up on her lap. I grinned as I imagined her in her panties, in an oversized t-shirt and knee socks, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her dirty blonde hair as she pored over her psychology textbooks. I found that mental image just as sexy as the one I had of her naked beneath me.

Rapping on the door, I waited for the eager rush of footsteps that propelled Chastity forward. Instead, I heard deliberate pacing toward the front door, a slow hand on the lock.

“Hi,” Trina said, clearly confused. She flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and stared at me. No doubt the woman was a looker, but she didn’t make my heart beat faster or my cock twitch. “What do you want?”

I frowned. I knew we hadn’t gotten off to the best start, but I didn’t understand Trina’s obvious hatred for me. Time to turn on the old Bradenton charm. I puffed out my chest and graced her with my best smile.

“Hi, Trina,” I said, keeping my voice light and flirtatious. “Is Chastity home? I need to speak with her.”

Trina’s eyes widened, and she made a little puffing sound with her lips. Then she shook her head.

“She isn’t here,” Trina said as if I were addled. Probably wondering why I’d need to stop by and not just call Chastity’s cell. She narrowed her eyes and put one hand on a skinny hip. “And what the hell do you think you’re doing anyway?”

I wasn’t quite sure what had prompted the verbal assault. “Can I at least come in?”

Trina frowned even deeper, lines marring her gorgeous face. She sucked in her cheeks, dark eyes flashing fury and censure before stepping back and pulling the door open.

“You have no business being here,” Trina snapped. She crossed her arms over her slender frame. “Chastity’s not home, and I want you gone before she gets back.”

I glared at her. “What the hell is your problem?”

Trina sighed. “I’m not getting into this.” She stamped her foot down on the floor. “And if you’re not gone by the time I count to ten, I’m calling the cops.”

I gaped. I really had no idea why she was being such a royal bitch or why she seemed immune to my normal charming song and dance. Was she jealous? It wouldn’t be the first time a girlfriend’s bestie acted like a lunatic. But I was more confused than anything else. After all, we’d barely spoken. I could count the number of times I’d seen Trina on one hand. She wasn’t exactly on my radar, outside of sharing an apartment with my girl.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I said, throwing my hands out in front of me in a defensive posture. If the floor opened up and swallowed me whole or I could beam back to Manhattan sans the unexpected lecture, I would have jumped at the chance. “I’m going to assume that you’re insanely jealous of Chastity, or something equally ridiculous. But this isn’t cute, Trina. I intend on dating your roommate for a long, long time. And we’re going to have to learn to like each other. We both care about her.”

Trina looked like a villain in a teen slasher movie about to wield a chainsaw. A vein popped out of her forehead, and her eyes narrowed into angry slits.

“Get out,” she hissed, grabbing my elbow and dragging me back toward the door. “Get out, now. Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

I stumbled. Her grip wasn’t strong, but it was surprising and still strong enough to tell me that she wanted to see the last of me. I gazed around the apartment, searching for some kind of clue as to why she was acting like such a hellbeast. Finally, I saw pictures scattered across the floor, and a manila envelope with the word “Chastity” scrawled on the front. Frowning, I darted around the still fuming Trina and grabbed one of the pictures.

Amanda and I were depicted on the high-gloss paper, staring at each other back at Per Se, her hand tangled in mine. I winced. It was the worst possible moment someone could have captured. The only moment someone could have captured that had any viability in being misinterpreted.

“This isn’t what you think,” I said, waving the photo paper in the air until it snapped. The two severed parts floated to the floor. Fitting. Amanda and I had been ripped apart just as we had so many years ago, our hands no longer joined. “I didn’t meet up with her in any romantic capacity. All I wanted was to tell her to fuck off. For good.”

Trina laughed, a high-pitched cackle that held zero humor, only disdain. “Yeah, we’ve heard that before, Richie Rich. Chastity’s too good for scum like you,” she spat. “Get the fuck out! Now, Chase!”

In horror, I watched as she pulled a cell phone from her pocket and held it up.

“Don’t,” I pleaded. This couldn’t be fucking happening to me. Not now. Not when I’d just made a mental commitment to the first girl I’d cared about since toxic Amanda. “Come on, Trina. This is obviously a set-up! Look, smell my shirt.” I stepped closer, pulling the Egyptian cotton from my chest. “Smells like wine, right? Because I told that girl that I didn’t want anything to do with her, and she threw her drink straight in my face and all over my front.”

Trina rolled her eyes. “I was born at night,” she said. “But I wasn’t born last night. And you… were obviously born in a barn. Get out, Chase. Get out, and I won’t tell Chastity you were here. It’s better that way. My friend is one of the most loving, kind and yet badass chicks I’ve ever known. She deserves better than some pig who’s going to slum it for a few months and then cast her aside. She deserves everything. You’ve already done enough damage.”

“Oh, come on!” I threw my arms up in the air. A hot rush of anger surged through me, and I restrained the urge to punch a hole through the fading drywall of the apartment. But the truth niggled somewhere deep in my brain. What if Trina was right? Chastity did deserve everything. Something I’d never been able to supply to a woman. Any woman. Let alone the most intriguing one I’d ever met with the highest self-esteem and values.

“Out,” Trina said, making the decision for me. She yanked open the door.

“I really need to talk to Chastity,” I said, trying to sound strong but my voice came out in a pathetic, needy whine. “Come on, Trina. Don’t do this. Don’t keep me from her.”

Trina licked her lips, nostrils snorting hot air and fire and slammed her palm on the doorjamb. “Out!” she repeated. “Now! Don’t think I won’t call the cops on you, mother fucker!”

I sighed. I didn’t have a choice because Trina was in no position to see reason. Hell hath no fury and all that. Grabbing the second photo, I ripped it in half and stuffed the pieces in my pocket. Stomping out the door, I ran down the stairs. As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I pulled out my phone and tried Chastity again.

“Hello.”

Relief flooded my body. If possible, it poured into every crevice, every organ, every cell.

“Chastity!” I cried, close to losing my shit in a tornado of emotion. “Chastity, we really need to talk, I have some–”

“She’s a little tied up at the moment,” a male voice broke in. The sound sent chills down my spine, and I growled. What the fuck?

“Who the hell is this?” I demanded.

A click sounded on the other end and then nothing. He’d hung up.