CHAPTER THREE
Finley ruffled her mink coat and tossed her Chopard Grey glasses on the marble entry table. Finley wasn’t careless; she just wanted everyone to know that the six hundred dollars she’d spent to shield her eyes from the sun didn’t concern her—never mind they would likely be knocked off a leased yacht into the South China Sea the next week.
She turned her diamond nose ring one-quarter turn counter-clockwise, and then popped a mint into her mouth. “I’m going to have to charter from now on. Even first-class has become filthy. And the airports … ugh.”
Marco, filling out his charcoal Henley like a Banana Republic model, set their luggage down in the foyer, greeting Maricela and José in Portuguese when they came to collect the bags.
“They speak Spanish, Marco,” I deadpanned.
Marco took off his glasses, grinning at me like he knew a story or five he would tell me later, in front of Finley, when we were all drunk. “It’s close enough.”
I glared at Finley. “You brought him,” I said in an accusatory voice.
“He’s staying in a hotel,” Finley said, barely noticing that Marco was removing her coat. He bent down to untie her fluffy snow boots.
I cringed. “Stop. Marco, stop. Right now.”
Marco slipped off her second boot and set them perfectly side by side, standing up and waiting with want in his eyes—not the sort of desire a woman my age would want an exotic, gorgeous man like Marco to have. He was waiting to oblige me, please me, take care of any need I had, and not for me—for Finley. He didn’t simply take pride in indulging his employer and anyone who surrounded her—it was his obsession. Appeasing Finley and her entourage at once was his specialty, and he loved to show off his talents.
“Could I just,” he began, reaching for her bags.
“No, no you can’t,” I said, slapping his hands away. “Take your luggage and find your hotel. Finley will be able to breathe for herself this week.”
Marco fidgeted, unsure how to grant my demand.
Finley smiled at him with feigned patience. “It’s fine, Marco. Go on. Enjoy your vacation.”
He nodded a few times, both confident and unsure, clearly unsettled at leaving Finley to her own devices for more than a few minutes.
Marco kissed her hand. “Should you need anything, Miss Edson, I’ll be here within ten minutes.”
She pulled away slowly, waving him away, indifferent to his charm.
Marco looked borderline devastated as he collected his baggage and closed the door behind him.
I sighed. “That shit is getting out of hand.”
She smirked, walking the few steps to hug me tight. “You’re just jealous.”
I squeezed her once, and then pulled away. “Does he wipe your ass? Only then would I be jealous.”
Finley laughed, pulling off her gloves and walking down the hall to the piano room. She tossed them on the chaise and sat, relaxing back and crossing her socked feet. Her golden hair fell in soft waves just past her shoulders, shiny and perfect like it should be after the money she’d spent to keep it that way. “Not that he hasn’t tried, my love. You’re right, he would probably breathe for me if he could.”
“Isn’t that annoying?”
“Not really. I worry about nothing except what I have to worry about.”
“When do you go back to work? Is Daddy’s board still bitching about your promotion?”
She sighed. “Soon, and yes. How’s Winterland?”
I looked out the window. It wasn’t snowing, but the wind was blowing icy globs from the tree branches. “I think I’ll be ready for the sea.”
She watched me as her red lips pulled to the side. “You don’t look ready.”
I picked the navy-blue polish off my thumbnail. “I feel numb. We’ve tanned on every beach. Skied every resort from Estes to the Alps.”
“You’re bored?” Finley asked, amused.
“Displaced.”
Finley rolled her eyes, disgusted. “Don’t do that, Ellison. Don’t become a goddamned cliché. The rich girl who is bored with life, surrounded by everyone and no one, feeling all alone.”
“Don’t patronize me. I recall you going through a phase.”
“I shopped and spent a month with you in Barbados. I didn’t fuck my way through it. You’ve always enjoyed your pharmaceuticals—you get that from Mother—but for Christ’s sake, Ellie. Pick a hobby. Get a boyfriend—or girlfriend. Find a cause. Find God. I don’t give a fuck, but don’t whine about having too much money and too many options.”
I wasn’t sure what expression was on my face, but it might have mirrored Finley’s. I covered my eyes, and then sat down on the sofa, leaning back. “Fuck, you’re right. I’m Sterling.”
“You’re not that bad, but you’re one stint in rehab away. You’re not bored, you’re empty. Stop trying to fill up with coke and hash. You know that shit doesn’t work.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “The fuck, Finley. When did you start adulting? You have a ladysitter who stirs your coffee, and you’re coaching me on life choices?”
She stood up, walked the few feet to the sofa, and collapsed next to me, hooking her legs over my lap. She interlaced her fingers between mine. “Betsy OD’d. I don’t want that to be you.”
I sat up. “Betsy March?”
Finley nodded, rubbing my palm with her thumb. “Nine months ago, she was where you are. We all saw it.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’ve been MIA, Ellie. No one sees you anymore. Except maybe Sterling.”
“We’re going to Sanya next week.”
“I haven’t seen you in six months. Betsy was empty. I don’t want to hear about you being found lying in your own excrement on the floor. This is our sister talk. You’re fucking up. You need to man up and handle it.”
“Mandle it?” I said, smiling brightly.
Finley was trying to keep it light, but she quickly wiped her eye.
I reached for her. “Fin. I’m fine.”
She nodded. “I know. We’re all fine until we’re not.”
“Come on. You’ve been traveling all day. We’ll run you a hot bath, relax, and order in.”
She smiled at me. “No wonder you’re bored. That sounds dreadful.”
“Fine, take a hot shower, and then we’ll go to dinner and find a bar with a bunch of hot locals.”
She grinned. “Much better.”
The Grove was busy but not packed. Odd for ski season, but I counted us lucky. Finley was dividing her time between her Kir Royale and the surrounding tables, relishing in the curious attention she was getting simply for being beautiful.
“I’ve always liked the men here. They’re a different kind of sexy than what we’re used to. Gruff. I’m liking the beards.”
“Most of them aren’t actually from here.”
She shrugged. “Neither are we.” Her phone buzzed, and she tapped a quick reply, annoyed with whoever had sent the message.
“Mother?”
Finley shook her head. “Marco’s just checking in.”
I leaned in, my nearly exposed breasts pressing against the table. Finley noticed, but only allowed them to distract her for a moment.
“Is he in love with you?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Probably. Where did you get that top? It makes your tiny tits look freakishly perky.”
“My tits are not tiny.”
“Please,” Finley said as the waiter dropped off our edamame. “You’re barely a B-cup.”
“Not everyone wants to surgically insert double-Ds, Fin.”
She looked up at the waiter. He began to speak, but she cut him off. “Yes, I want another. No, there is nothing else you can get for us right now. Yes, the edamame is superb. Thank you.”
He nodded and left for the kitchen.
“He’s going to spit in our food,” I said, watching him disappear behind a swinging door.
She breathed out a laugh. “I wasn’t rude. I just made his drive-by efficient.” Her eyes lit up, and she stood, embracing Sterling. “Hello, my love!”
Sterling kissed her cheek, and then again square on the mouth. She didn’t flinch.
He looked into her eyes, shaking his head and smiling. “Fin. You’re beautiful.”
She smiled. “You’re right.”
Sterling held the back of Finley’s chair until she sat, and then he helped push her forward. I turned my face as he leaned down, allowing him to peck my cheek.
“Disclaimer … I kissed your sister,” Sterling said, sitting down next to Finley.
She glanced at him, and then at me. “What’s he babbling about?”
“I kind of forced him to kiss me yesterday,” I said, already feeling Finley’s silent wrath. She didn’t want Sterling this second, but he belonged to her. “To get rid of the firefighter.”
Finley’s eyebrows rose, and she looked to Sterling for confirmation. They were an odd pair, between them wearing clothes and accessories that cost more than the average home, but both emotionally and morally bankrupt. Finley might have been able to talk me out of a spiral, but she had a pocket full of people and a closet full of things: all expendable. Sterling loved Finley, but would never beg for her, and preferred to wallow in infinite misery than admit defeat and try to love someone else. We were friends because less than one percent of the world’s population could identify with the sorrow of having too much money and too many opportunities—with the boredom of total freedom of monetary limitations.
We could depend on each other to neither expect anything but time, nor hope that we’d be invited on the next paid vacation. Our friendships would never be more about connections than inside jokes or late night talks. We knew if we were to ever bitch about the throes of money, it was not because we were hinting at needing any. We had nothing in common but the fact that we had one more thing in common than we did with everyone else.
“You really kissed her?” Finley asked Sterling.
He nodded, realizing too late his mistake. He was hoping for jealousy. Finley’s anger had always been a slow boil, and she was just beginning to simmer.
“Fin,” I began.
“Shush. You don’t get to talk.”
I sat back in my seat, hoping the night didn’t get any more awkward.
We ate our seabass and veal, buffalo ricotta, and chicory. We drank far too many Kir Royales that somehow turned into rounds of Irish whiskey, and then after giving the waiter the largest tip he’d ever seen, we headed out into the cold to light cigarettes and breathe puffs of white into the air.
Finley seemed to have forgiven us both, giggling against Sterling’s chest at my jokes, but I knew better. Sterling pulled her in, taking any chance to hold her that she would allow. I guided them down the alley to Turk’s, the local dive bar with a back entrance, hard to find on purpose.
“I want to see your hotshot,” Finley said, drunk and silly.
“He’ll probably be here. I’ve seen him here before. Most of the locals hang out at Turk’s.”
We walked in, removing our coats and gloves, and Paige waved to me from the bar. I let her hug me and guide us to a table in the corner. Tyler Maddox was present as expected and had a pitcher of beer to himself, a cigarette tucked behind his ear.
“Holy fuck,” Finley said not so quietly into my ear.
Tyler pretended not to hear as he stood, shaking Sterling’s hand and sweeping his own toward the empty chairs, including his. Zeke and another man stood until we sat, and then waited as Tyler found an extra seat to pull to our table.
Paige leaned into my ear. “He was just talking about you.”
“I bet he was,” I said.
Finley introduced herself to Tyler first, and then Zeke. The third man shook her hand when she extended it.
“Daniel Ramos,” he said.
“Otherwise known as Sugar,” Tyler said with a smirk.
Finley giggled. She was immediately enamored with Tyler, and Sterling noticed. He transitioned too easily from laughter and affection to sitting motionless between the love of his life and Paige.
Paige rested her chin on her hand, smiling at Sugar. “It’s just so predictable.”
“What is?” he asked.
“All the transplants are from California.”
“I didn’t come here meaning to stay for six seasons,” he said.
Paige’s purple pompadour glowed in the neon lights of the bar. “Then why did you?”
“I came here for a girl.”
Zeke slapped him on the shoulder. “Isn’t Sugar sweet?”
Sugar shrugged away from him.
“And where is she?” Paige asked, attempting her best flirtatious smile.
“Not here,” Sugar said, leaning toward her.
“Is there no waitress tonight?” Finley said, annoyed. It was then that I saw it, the truth behind the flash of anger in her eyes. She hadn’t forgiven me and definitely not Sterling. She was going to flirt with the hotshot I’d mentioned to punish us both.
Tyler stood up, heading to the bar. “I got it.”
I listened to Finley and Sterling chat for a while, at the same time trying not to eavesdrop on Zeke and Sugar. Sugar was complaining about a girl, and then Zeke mentioned another Maddox.
“Tyler has a brother?” I asked.
“Four of them,” Zeke said.
“Can you imagine five Tylers running around?” I teased.
“I don’t have to,” Zeke said. “I’ve seen it in real life, and it’s fucking scary.”
I shook my head. “Their poor mother. I would kill myself.”
Zeke shifted in his chair. “She passed away when they were little.”
I put my head in my hands, looking down. “Fuck. That’s terrible. I’m sorry,” I said, glad Tyler wasn’t around to see me stick my foot so far into my mouth.
“It’s okay,” Zeke said. “You didn’t know.”
Tyler returned with a tray of shots and passed them around. He held up his glass.
“To good friends and beautiful women,” Tyler said. We held up our glasses, almost appreciative of his sweet toast. Then he added, “Sucking my dick.” His friends laughed, and we shook our heads, but everyone tossed back the whiskey.
Tyler stood to get another round, and Paige leaned in toward Sugar. “What the hell was that? Why is he acting like a douchebag all of a sudden?”
Sugar glanced at Finley from under his lashes. “Sisters are complicated.”
Tyler sat back down in his seat, carefully lowering the tray to the table.
“What is that one?” Finley asked, touching Tyler’s arm.
Sugar made a face. “Guess it didn’t work.”
Paige turned to me. “Is he being an asshole to run your sister off?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, watching him watch me.
He returned his attention to Finley and turned his wrist, allowing her to examine the arrow just above his elbow. “That would be Taylor’s choice.”
“Your girlfriend?” Finley asked.
Tyler and Zeke laughed.
“No,” Tyler said. “Taylor is my brother.”
“Taylor and Tyler. That’s adorable,” Finley said, keeping her fingers on his arm.
“Apparently there are three more,” I said.
Finley turned her attention to me, wondering how I knew Tyler’s personal business. I pointed to Zeke, and she smiled, continuing to brush Tyler’s arm. “Are we talking five of you?” she asked. “Is that how you learned to fight?”
“Oh,” Tyler said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “You heard about that.”
“Is it?”
“Mostly.”
“Have you ever fought over a girl?” she asked.
I was beginning to feel sorry for her. Finley was trying so hard to make Sterling and me jealous that she was looking like quite the desperate tourist girl.
“No,” Tyler said. “Never.”
“I don’t believe it. Surely, at least once, more than one of you has been attracted to the same girl?” Finley asked.
Tyler shifted in his seat. “None of us have ever traded blows over something like that. It helps that we’re attracted to completely different types. Most of us, anyway.”
“What is your type? Blonde? Rich? Nympho?” Finley asked, leaning in.
I cringed. “Fin…”
Sterling stood. “I think I’ll call it a night.”
“No,” Finley whined, reaching for him. “Don’t be silly. We just got here.”
Sterling tossed a few large bills on the table that would easily cover everyone’s drinks and more, and headed for the door. Finley frowned but followed him.
Tyler watched me for a few seconds, and then leaned in with his elbow on the table. “Are you going, too?”
I lifted my shot and took a gulp, shaking my head. “She’ll be back. He won’t.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“We’ve been friends for a long time.”
Zeke laughed behind his hand, trying to look everywhere but at me.
I raised an eyebrow. “Something’s funny?”
He cleared his throat, sitting up a bit taller. “Nothin’. You’re just an odd trio. Is he with her? She’s stayin’ with you?” He scratched his five o’clock shadow, waiting for me to answer.
“She’s my sister. Do you guys ever work?” I asked. “All I see is you partying, fucking, and driving around the company car.”
Tyler ordered another round for the table. “It’s a company truck. And yes, we work our asses off. It’s just been slow. We work for the city in off-season.”
Sugar raised his glass to Tyler. “Indeed we do. Saved this town more than once.”
I held my glass high. “To fighting fires or whatever!”
“Fight fires or whatever?” Tyler said, sounding offended.
I laughed once. “Oh, please. You chose the job. It’s not like everyone is obligated to worship you for it.”
“Wow, okay,” Tyler said, standing. He gripped the back of his chair, the muscles in his forearm tensing below the hem of his Henley sleeve. He adjusted the worn, braided leather bracelets on his right wrist, his nails uneven and his knuckles thick from him cracking them like he’d done twice since Paige had led us to their table. I wanted those fingers inside me, his forearm tensing while he gripped my hips. I wanted something that hadn’t occurred to me before—a repeat.
“Easy, Maddox,” Zeke said. “She’s not wrong.”
“Oh, she’s wrong. She’s all kinds of wrong.”
I winked at Zeke. “What are you doing after this?”
Zeke looked around and then pointed to his chest. “Me?”
“Yes. The flannel shirt is doing it for me. I’m loving the lumbersexual thing you’ve got going on.”
Zeke chuckled, and then held his fist up to his mouth, choking on his own spit when he realized I was serious.
Tyler’s chair fell forward, propped against the table when he shoved it away from him before walking to the bar. He leaned on the bar with his elbow, chatting with the bartender, Annie. She cackled and shook her head, batting her eyes like Tyler needed.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Zeke said. “But don’t put me in the middle of it.”
“Wise man,” Sugar said, slapping Zeke on the shoulder.
“Fine,” I said, turning to Paige. “What are you doing later?”
“You?” she said with a wicked smile. She didn’t mind being plan B, or even plan C.
I smiled. “Good answer.”
Zeke’s chin lifted, staring at someone tall behind me.
“Hey, Todd. I thought you weren’t allowed in here anymore?” Zeke asked.
Todd shifted his weight from one foot to the other, sporting a yellowing splotch on his cheekbone. “Maddox has been kicked out of here more times than I have. Yet you’re here with him.”
Zeke nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself.”
Sugar patted his friend on the back. “We should go.”
Todd leaned down, touching his temple to mine. I was more curious than offended, so I waited, unmoving.
Sugar leaned forward, waiting to pounce. His navy-blue button-down hid the monster beneath. He was a brick wall, maybe even more than Tyler, and just as tall. They both had a buzz cut, but Sugar was less unleashed bull dog, and more trained soldier.
“Maybe we’ll join you,” Todd said, turning to look at me. He smiled, far too close to my face, but I didn’t recoil. He was reckless, and I needed to be in the front row to witness whatever happened next.
“Todd,” Sugar warned, “Maddox’s been drinking.”
“So have I,” Todd said, smiling at me. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
“That’s it,” I said, mirroring his expression. “That’s my name.”
“Beautiful?” he asked, amused.
“Mercer,” Tyler said, his voice booming over the music. He stood close behind Todd, taunting him with the lack of personal space he offered.
Sugar stood up. “We’re leaving, Maddox.”
One side of Tyler’s mouth turned up, but he didn’t take his eyes away from Todd’s. “Not with all these pretty girls just getting here.”
Paige touched my hand and I squeezed, not because I was afraid, but because the spike in testosterone was making my lady parts cry out in the best kind of pain.
Zeke stood up, too, and the bartenders took notice.
Todd and Tyler stared each other down for a solid twenty seconds until Todd finally spoke. “I’m curious.”
“I’m sure I can answer,” Tyler said.
“If you’re worth a fuck without your brother around.”
Tyler’s eyes sparked with excitement. “Don’t just get my hopes up, Mercer. Swing or shut the fuck up.”
Without thinking, I stood between them, looking up. “Why do guys do that? Why do they call each other by their last names? Is saying the first name a pussy thing to do? Is it too intimate?”
Sugar reached out for me. “C’mere, Ellie.”
My face twisted. “They’re not going to do anything.”
“We’re not?” Todd asked, unsure if he should be insulted or relieved.
I touched his shoulders, reaching up on the balls of my feet to softly kiss his cheek. “You’ll thank me later.” I lifted my knee, sinking it deep into his groin. He doubled over, and then fell forward in the fetal position while everyone stood around in shock.
“Hey! Get the fuck outta here!” Annie yelled.
Tyler grabbed my hand and rushed out, pushing through the door and running down the alley, and then down the street. Our shoes crunched through the snow as we cut through a light flurry. Tyler didn’t stop until we reached his white crew cab Dodge truck, his friends close behind.
He pressed his key fob and looked down at me with a surprised grin, his breath visible in the cold night air. He nodded toward the truck as two doors on the passenger side opened and then slammed shut. “Get in. I’m going to take them home, and then—”
“And then what?”
He shrugged. “I’ll take you home.”
I shoved my hands in my coat pocket and shook my head. “Nah. I have to go back and wait for Fin.”
“She’s with Sterling.”
“We sort of left Paige back there, too.”
“Why did you do that?” Tyler asked. “I’ve never seen a girl do that—ever. Well, maybe once in middle school, but never with so much enjoyment.”
“The bruise on his face. Is that from you?”
He nodded. “Two weeks ago. Bar brawl. It was brutal.”
“But no bruises on you.”
He shrugged. “I don’t like getting hit, so I don’t.”
“No one does.”
“But I don’t.”
“How is that? Are you trained or something?”
“Sort of. I have four brothers.”
“I thought you said you didn’t fight?”
“Not over girls.”
“Are they all like you? Your brothers?”
He shrugged again. “Pretty much.”
“Explains a lot.”
He took a step toward me with the same look in his eyes he’d had at the bottom of my stairs. “You didn’t have to do that. I had it handled.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for him.”
“Because you knew I’d kill him?”
I breathed out a laugh and then licked my lips when I saw him pull out a cigarette. “I’ll take one of those.”
Tyler held his cigarette between his lips while he lit mine, cupping the lighter as he puffed on his own. We exhaled at the same time, and I felt my body begin to shake.
“Come home with me,” Tyler said.
I shook my head. “I’m taking Paige home. She was into Sugar. Now she’s back there, sitting alone, feeling deficient when she’s really the most beautiful thing to ever grace that shit hole.”
“Not the most beautiful,” he mumbled, looking away. When I didn’t respond, he turned to meet my gaze. “I wanna take you home.”
“I’m in the mood for something soft tonight.”
He leaned down, kissing my lips once. “I can do soft.”
I breathed him in, feeling my thighs tense. “Not like we can.”
He slid his fingers behind my neck, backing me against his door, and then pressed his lips against mine, tasting me like he had the first night, with a yearning that made all reason melt with the rest of me.
He pulled away, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip. “Fuck Paige.”
“I intend to,” I said, walking backward a few steps before turning around.
Tyler puffed, and then I heard his door open and close and the engine fire up. I crossed the street and returned to Turk’s. Paige was standing outside in the snow-lined alley, smoking, looking relieved to see me.
“You came back,” she said.
My phone buzzed, and the display lit up. I recognized Finley’s magazine-worthy selfie and frowned.
On my way. Marco will drive us.
I growled, shoving my phone back into my back pocket.
“Bad news?” Paige asked.
“It’s just … the girl I was with, my sister, Finley. She has an assistant, and she’s with him now. They’re coming to get us.”
“Us?”
My face softened. “Yeah. You have plans for the next three hours? Or until morning?”
Paige swallowed and then smiled, shaking her head. She had such a sweet face. The death of her innocence was still fresh, and I could tell that she still liked to pretend it existed.
Headlights beamed into our eyes, and we both held up our hands. “The fuck, Marco? Turn off the brights!”
“I’m sorry!” he called from the driver seat.
The lights dimmed, and I held out my hand to Paige. “This is not happy ever after. It’s just tonight.”
She hooked my fingers with hers and nodded, following me to Marco’s rental.
“Hi,” Finley said as we settled into the backseat. Her lipstick and mascara were smeared.
I recoiled. “Ew, what happened to you? Please don’t tell me you guilt-sucked Marco.”
Finley’s smile faded, and she turned around. “Take us home.”
“Yes, Miss Edson.”