A Twisted Love Story(61)

“So you have to stay there and work,” Karen says. “Of course you do.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom.”

“I understand. Everybody has to pay their dues.” Something she has said many times over the years, both to herself and to Jack.

“I’m definitely doing that.”

“Maybe I can come down to L.A. for your birthday,” she says.

“Absolutely,” he says. “We can celebrate both.”

After the call, Karen blinks back her tears. Tries to shake off the sadness.

Refocus all this emotion into her work: That’s what she needs to do. It’s the one good thing to come of this.





50




Wes closes his eyes and rubs his temples. After spending half the day trying to find a lawyer, he still has real work to do. Nine thirty at night in the office, his head is pounding, and there isn’t an Advil in sight.

He wishes, not for the first time, that he had told his sister everything. She would wake him up from this nightmare.

But, as always, he’s too ashamed to make that call. Imagining her disappointment when she hears about Joey Fisher is bad enough to keep him from picking up the phone.

He tries to focus back on his screen. The spreadsheet in front of him doesn’t look good. Siphon has taken quite a hit because of Tanner. Clients are quick to jump ship from a company that can’t get its internal business together. They aren’t wrong. Wes would do the same thing if he were a client instead of an employee.

“Hey.”

He looks up and blinks. Abigail.

She stands in the doorway of his office, her bag in hand like she’s on her way out. He thought he was here alone.

“You’re working late,” she says, walking in. She sits down.

“So are you.”

“No choice. I’m basically doing two jobs,” she says. “But that shouldn’t last much longer. We’ve been interviewing for Tanner’s position.”

“That’s good to hear.” Wes clears his throat. He hasn’t been alone with Abigail since that little talk about the night they spent together. It wasn’t comfortable then, nor is it now. Eventually, he hopes it will be. “It’s a tough time for everyone,” he says.

“Indeed. How are you doing?”

“Just trying to get through it, like everyone else.”

“We’re also scheduling interviews for Bianca’s job,” she says.

“Good. Then you can get back to yours instead of being stuck down here.”

“I hope so.” Abigail stands up, straightens her skirt. “I was going to stop and have a drink on the way home, if you want to join me.”

No. Yes. Definitely not. The way she asks sounds so benign, so innocent. Not suggestive at all. But that’s how it started last time.

“Probably not a good idea,” he says.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Her voice is sharp, like Wes is implying something would happen. Which he is.

“I just meant I’m so tired I’d probably fall asleep after one drink,” he says.

“You should know that I’ve started seeing someone.”

“That’s great,” he says. “Really, it is.”

“It’s not serious yet,” she says. “But I’m not interested in anything . . . else.”

“I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you. Have a good night, Wes.”

As she walks away, he starts to relax. Until she stops at the door and turns back.

“There’s something I should probably tell you,” she says. “About that night. I meant to tell you before, but . . .” She glances down at the grey carpet, away from him.

A rarity. Abigail always looks him in the eye. He braces himself, his whole body tensing up for whatever is coming next.

“When you were asleep,” she says, “your phone rang. I thought it was mine.”

“You answered my phone?”

“It was wrong, and I should’ve told you earlier. And I meant to. I just . . . never did. It was an accident, and I never would’ve done it on purpose. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I was just . . . well, I was embarrassed.”

He already knows who called, or she wouldn’t be telling him about it at all.



* * *



—

Heath nods to a man standing at the bar. “What about him?”

Ivy sighs. Heath has dragged her out to make her forget about last night with Wes.

She side-eyes the guy, who is around her age, with black hair and brown skin. Quick smile, big eyes, and lashes visible from ten feet away.

“He’s pretty hot,” she says, slurping up the rest of her drink. The night has gotten away from her, because Heath is obsessed with finding her a new man. Again. “But I don’t think I’m in any condition to—”

“Sure you are.”

Heath gets up before she can stop him. Sometimes, he’s her best friend; other times, her pimp.

Sometimes, it’s fun; other times, not.

Heath can talk to anyone—he’s that kind of guy. No fear of strangers. It doesn’t take him long to strike up a conversation with the guy at the bar and his friends.