Chapter Twenty
Antoine
I drive into the alley and get out of the SUV. Where’s Kristen? Tolyan told me she would be here, waiting for a pickup.
It takes a moment before I spot her, sitting on a wooden crate, arms hugging her knees, her face buried and hidden. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her looking this defeated and sad. And it does something crazy to my heart.
Not wanting to startle her, I place my hand on her shoulder and whisper, “Kristen. Hey.”
She lifts her head and blinks a couple of times. Her eyes are wet and red from crying, and I want to punch someone for putting that look on her face.
“I texted Tolyan,” she says in a small voice.
“Yeah, I know. But he asked me to come. Something about being busy with Elizabeth’s files.”
She chuckles weakly. “He said that to me, too. Earlier, about something else, not when I asked him to pick me up.”
I look at the box at her feet. And it’s all I can do to not march inside the building and demand to see Lola. Just who the hell does she think she is? How could she treat Kristen this way?
“I’m going to go kick your boss’s ass,” I say.
“You shouldn’t. She’s not going to change her mind.” Kristen stands.
I pick up the box. It isn’t heavy, but it has lots of little stuff—a couple of framed photos, a pot of faux ivy, and some pencils, books and personal items. I put it in the SUV, while she takes the passenger seat.
As we drive toward Dominic’s penthouse, I say, “I’m sorry.”
She leans her head against the window and sighs softly. “You aren’t supposed be nice to me, remember?”
“I know. But as a fellow wage slave, I can sympathize. I can be made redundant at any time.”
She gives me an oh, please look. “Like Dominic’s going to fire you. He loves you.”
Kristen the Reassurer. Even after what just happened.
And the thing is…she has no idea how badly things could go between me and Dominic. The reason we get along so well is that we don’t cross certain lines, especially ones involving his baby sister. I don’t want a repeat of Eddie.
I carry the box up to Dominic’s penthouse. “Where do you want this?”
“Anywhere. It doesn’t matter.” She grabs a bottle of white and a glass and plops down on the sectional. “Thanks, Antoine.”
“Anytime.” I sit down. I should go, but don’t want to. I need to make sure she’s going to be okay. Yeah, I know she told me to be a jerk, but she doesn’t need a jerk right now. I can start being a dick tomorrow. “So what are you going to do? Look for a new job?” I ask, watching her uncork the bottle and pour a big glass.
She shakes her head, then drains the whole glass as though she’s chugging down ice water in a desert. “Not for a while. Everyone knows why I lost my job, so I doubt people are going to be eager to hire me.”
“Things will get back to normal soon. I’m working on it.”
A beat of silence. “Thanks.”
Somehow, that simple thanks makes me want to explain the situation to her. I want her to understand I only had her best interests at heart. “Ryder’s people want to create a diversion. Another scandal. It isn’t that difficult to release a sex tape.”
“Aren’t sex tapes sort of passé now?” Kristen muses out loud, then finishes another glass.
“Not when it involves an underage model, a producer and a politician.”
Both of her eyebrows rise. “Wow.”
“I don’t want to do it though. It doesn’t clear your name or your rep.”
“I see.”
We’re close, too. We just need a couple more pieces of intel, so we can link everything together in just the right way. Then both the teen and the paparazzo from Ming Ming’s pool party will go down, and Kristen’s reputation will be restored.
If I had things my way, I’d have them mowed down by a landing Dreamliner for the grief they caused Kristen. But since there are pesky things like the law, I’ll restrain myself.
“So until your name’s cleared, take some time off and relax,” I say.
“Relax…” She sighs, then chugs down a third glass. “Maybe. At least I’m going to have lots of time to pursue what I set out to do. You should be relieved.”
“What do you mean?”
“Finding myself a man. Like you said before, it should take care of the problem of stalkers. And seeing me happy in a relationship with, you know, an adult might make people realize teenage boys aren’t my type. You know, in case the plan to clear my name takes too long. I can’t put my life on hold forever.”
I say nothing.
“You should be thrilled. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
It was and it is. But I’m anything but thrilled. Since I don’t even want to think about her dating other men, I say, “Once you get your life back to normal, Lola is going to realize what a huge mistake she made when she laid you off. You’re a great designer. Elizabeth loves your custom rings, and didn’t Ryder say something about spoiling his wife for delivering a baby girl? He may commission a piece from you.”
Instead of cheering her up, it makes her frown. “Maybe. But that’s something I did on the side as a hobby. And I don’t want him to commission a piece out of pity.”
I tilt my head. It’s paradoxical that she can be so smart and confident at times, so insecure and uncertain at others. Vulnerable. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to do something out of pity,” I point out. She needs to know she’s just that good.
“Maybe. But I don’t want to think about all that right now. I don’t want to think about anything except drinking.”
I understand the need to lick one’s wounds. And the need to hang on to your pride, because sometimes that’s the only thing keeping you from doing something you’re going to regret the next day.
Part of me wishes I could be the support she needs, someone she could lean on to draw comfort. If I hadn’t said the things I said to Maman… If she hadn’t heard what I said… But right now, the last thing Kristen wants from me is a shoulder to cry on.
The story of my life. I excel at giving women a fantastic time in bed, but the other stuff? Yeah, that’s debatable. And I know from experience that a healthy relationship needs more than great sex.
“You can go now,” Kristen says after finishing the bottle. Her words are just a tad slurred.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I want to watch over you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re hurting. And I don’t want to leave you alone, drinking.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
She stares at the empty bottle and glass, her lips pursed. She looks so forlorn and sad, like a puppy that just got kicked for no reason other than wanting to be happy.
“If Lola apologizes, do you want your job back?” I ask her.
She considers, then shakes her head. “No. I wouldn’t want it back.”
“You loved it there.”
“Yeah, I did. But it was a one-way thing. They didn’t love me back. They didn’t stick up for me. So…” She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”
I feel horrible at her dejected tone. It doesn’t feel like she’s just talking about Lola, but about how things have gone between us. And the thing is, unlike Lola, I really do think Kristen is something special.
She waves her phone at me. “You know, I’m going to use all these apps and find myself a guy from accounting.”
“A guy from accounting?”
“Yeah. Tolyan told me I should.” She goes and grabs another bottle of white.
“I don’t get it,” I say when she’s back.
“He said I need a stable, normal and nice guy who thinks it’s his lifelong mission to make me happy. And you know what? He’s right. I feel like I deserve that. Why should I be the only one who loves? Why shouldn’t I be loved?”
Her questions create a painful hitch in my chest. And so I uncork the wine for her, because that’s the only thing I can do.