Chapter 6
SIX
Ella
Tommy can’t hear me through the apartment manager’s door, but I’m out of my chair and running from the office so fast, Squid has to tell me to slow down.
Barely heeding him, I shout, “Tommy!”
My brother stops moving up the stairs and peers over the railing. “Ella?”
I’m vaguely aware of Cora and Squid trailing behind me as I march up to him. “Your apartment,” I say. “Now.”
“Good to see you, too,” he says slowly.
Hands on my hips, I stare him down until he sighs, shrugs, and continues toward his apartment. There, he unlocks the door and goes inside. “Wait here—I just need to put some things away.”
I exchange looks with Cora and Squid. Both of them look irritated.
“I’ll go in first,” Squid says.
I don’t argue with him. I don’t believe Tommy’s apartment could be dangerous to me in any way, especially since he didn’t know I was coming, but better safe than sorry. Squid and Cora are the professionals.
Tommy opens the door, and Squid says, “I’m going to make sure it’s safe for Ella.”
Tommy eyes Squid’s black pants and shirt, his mirrored sunglasses propped on his head, his cropped-short red hair, and don’t-fuck-with-me stare.
“Yeah, sure,” Tommy says. “There’s nobody else here.”
Cora and I wait in silence by the door. Her gaze flits every which way. After a long minute, she says, “I had a brother. Tommy reminds me of him.”
“Had?” I ask quietly.
“Overdosed. But not before he tried to take everyone down with him. He couldn’t help it. Not sure he wanted to, a lot of the time.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I used to be mad,” she says with a shrug, her focus still moving around the apartment complex, alert for any danger while she speaks. “I had to decide, though, at one point, that he couldn’t bring me down, too. Hardest thing I ever did was ignore his calls.”
I can only imagine. I say, “I’ve written off Tommy a few times, too, but maybe I’m weak, because I keep coming back.”
“It isn’t weak. Neither response is,” she says. “But I had to figure out where a line had to be drawn, before he took everything from me.”
She doesn’t say anything else. This is her roundabout way of giving advice.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Welcome.”
The door swings open and Squid says, “It’s clear.”
Cora says she’ll wait outside and Squid asks if I want privacy. “I can stay in here or wait outside if you want.”
“Some privacy would be good,” I say. He comes out, and I go inside and face my brother.
Tommy looks…perfectly fine. Better than usual, actually.
His blue eyes aren’t bloodshot and his face isn’t puffy with fatigue and strained with anxiety like it was the last few times I’ve seen him.
He looks like he’s been remembering to eat, too.
And his apartment is actually not the total pigsty I expected.
I wonder if he enlisted Squid’s help in tidying it right before I came in.
“Where have you been?” I finally ask.
“Uh…here.”
“This whole time?”
“What do you mean, this whole time?” He looks to the side. The dickhead is being shifty as fuck.
“You said you were going on a trip or something. Did you even leave?”
“Nah, I changed my mind.”
“Are you fucking kidding me ?” I shout.
He holds his hands up in front of his face. “Dude, E, relax.”
“I cannot relax when I was worried sick. I got a note , you idiot, written with black marker…”
I trail off. On the coffee table in front of him is a stack of paper. On top of it rests a black marker.
He sees me looking at the marker and makes a move to grab it, but I snatch it first.
“A black marker a lot like this one,” I say slowly, holding it up. I pull the note from my purse, open it up.
Tommy sits back on the sofa. “You don’t have to go all amateur detective on me and test out the pen against the note. I wrote it, okay?”
My heart thunders in my chest and I grip the marker so hard, I wonder if it’ll snap. “I can’t fucking believe you,” I shout. “I was so worried!”
“Is everything okay?” Cora asks, barging in through Tommy’s door.
I nod, but everything is not okay. My own fucking brother wrote a threatening note.
He made me think he was in danger. No demands had come yet, but I bet that was in the works.
Let me sweat for a few days over Note Number One, and then demand money with Note Number Two.
Note Number Three would probably list a drop-off place for the “ransom.”
“What was coming next?” I ask. “Demands for money, right? Money that I don’t have ?”
“You have money—your boyfriends have money,” he says petulantly. “I wouldn’t have had to do all that if you’d just help me out.”
I’m so fucking glad I never said anything to Kingston or Sebastian about this. How fucking embarrassing. My leech of a big brother was pretending to be kidnapped.
This is crazy. I’m crazy for putting up with him. Over and over. Chance after chance.
“You will never get money from me, or from anyone I know,” I say, tears blurring my vision.
Cora stands off to the side, probably afraid to call attention to herself by moving.
“Do not contact me, okay? I’m done. I can’t keep doing this, Tommy. You’re my brother and I love you, but all you’ve been doing is using me since Dad died.”
He shakes his head in disbelief.
Tears roll down my cheeks and I wipe them away, pissed that I’m crying. “Once you’re done with the gambling, once your life is figured out and you’re not going to ask me for shit, give me a call. Until then, I’m done.”
Before he can respond with a guilt trip or a plea for understanding, I hurry out of his apartment, Cora on my heels. Squid’s right outside the door, and the three of us go to the car and get inside.
We drive out of the Old Thirty-Three and I keep thinking, with every passing mile, that I might start feeling better, like I’m leaving my problems behind me.
It’s just the opposite, though. The world presses on me, heavier and heavier. And, fuck, now I do have to tell the guys. I never should have kept this from them to start with.
Kingston won’t be off work for a few hours. I’d rather tell them both at the same time. Pulling my phone from my purse, I text Natasha. Can I treat you to coffee in exchange for hearing the latest gossip in your life?
Her response is immediate. Name the time and place, babes. I’m free all afternoon.
* * *
Kingston
Ella shows up at home about an hour after I get there.
“Where’ve you been, baby girl?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Out and about. I hung out with Natasha for a bit, and brought some desserts over to Mrs. Dali.”
“In Bellefleur?” I ask. “Your guards went with you, right?”
“Yes, Daddy ,” she says, with just enough sass in her voice to get me narrowing my eyes at her. She clears her throat. “Um. Sorry. Is Sebastian home yet?”
Home. I like the sound of it, that she’s claiming this place, and Bash’s, as her home.
“He’s on his way,” I say. “Why?”
“Just…something I need to talk to you about,” she says quietly.
“If you want me to cancel that symposium,” I say, “I’ll do it in a heartbeat. I don’t even want to go up to Sacramento. It’s supposed to hit ninety-five degrees next week.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not that. You should definitely go. But stay in air conditioning as much as possible.”
“If it’s not that, then what is it?”
Biting her lip, she says, “I’ll wait until Bash gets home?—”
The elevator chimes softly and slides open.
“Lucky us, he’s here now,” I say. “Spill, sweetheart.”
Before she can say a word, Sebastian strides forward, gathers Ella in his arms, and kisses her breathless.
When he steps back, she stares at him, dazed. “What—what was that for?”
“I missed you like the devil,” he says.
There’s something in his eyes. Something’s troubling him, but I’m not a fucking mind reader, so I don’t know what it is. He sees me staring at him and smiles. He can’t think that’s going to work on me, can he? Dumbass. I’ll ask him about it later, though, because Ella’s acting weird, too.
“So, Ella,” I say.
She turns her gaze to me. “Yeah. I need to tell you both something, and I hope you’re not mad.”
I have no idea what it could be. Does it have to do with quitting her job so she can focus on her music? I really hope she can make the right decision, here.
“A few days ago, I received—no. I need to back up. Before that. You know my brother, and his…issues.”
“His gambling addiction,” Bash says.
“Right,” Ella says. “Dammit, it’s so embarrassing. No, not embarrassing, just…I’m ashamed, okay? I hate that I’m ashamed of my own brother, but I am.”
“Hey, we all have demons,” Bash says. “None of us is perfect. I mean, hell, look at Kingston and me, dating a much-younger woman like we’re a couple of midlife-crisis cliches.”
“Hey, speak for yourself on the midlife crisis,” I say.
He rolls his eyes, but again, I’m sensing more to what he’s saying and doing.
“Sorry, Ella,” he says. “Go ahead.”
“Okay.” She sighs again. “Basically, I got an anonymous note that Tommy was in trouble, saying I owed someone money. I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed, and worried.
When I called the police, they didn’t even believe Tommy was missing.
And it turned out, they were right not to worry.
Because you know who wrote the fucking note?
Tommy. I found him today, at his old apartment, where apparently he’s living quite comfortably.
But I should’ve told you both about the note to begin with, and I apologize. ”
I stare at her for a long moment. She blinks back tears and holds herself rigidly. She’s trying not to cry.
“You should’ve told us,” I say quietly.
“I know.” She sounds absolutely miserable.
“But we understand why you didn’t say anything,” I add. “Even though I promise you, there’s nothing for you to be ashamed of. You’re not your brother, Ella.”
Bash pulls her into a hug. “I wish you’d said something, so you weren’t holding this in. Did you at least tell your guards?”
Gripping his shirt in her fists, Ella whispers, “Um. Eventually?”
“What?” Bash takes her by the shoulders and tugs her away slightly, so he can look at her face. “You didn’t say something right away? Wasn’t it dangerous?”
“Well, no, there was nobody around. So I wasn’t actually in danger or anything, it was just a freaky note.”
“That’s not okay, Ella,” I say. “The whole reason you have the guards is so they can protect you, and they can’t do that properly if they don’t have all the information.”
“Look, we want to know everything that’s going on with you,” Sebastian says. “We’re a team, right?”
Ella nods. “Yes, of course.”
“And that means we share things,” he says. “You’re allowed space to think things over, and so are we, but in the end, we shouldn’t be hiding important shit, right?”
“Right,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
My own thoughts are swirling through my mind. I want her to be honest. I want her to feel like she can tell us anything without shame. To me, we’ve been through hell and back already, and we’ve laid the contents of our hearts bare before each other, all three of us. But she’s still holding back.
“I’ve disappointed you both,” she whispers, looking between us.
I don’t know what to say, but I can tell if I don’t say anything, the moment will crash and burn and it might take Ella with it. So I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“You scare us. You scare me, baby girl. Because I love you so goddamn much and I just want to hold you close, keep you safe, and make you happy. That’s all I want now.”
Sebastian nods. “It’s the same for me. I don’t give a single fuck about your brother acting like a creep, except for how it makes you feel. I’m so fucking mad at him right now, for putting you in the kind of headspace where you felt you couldn’t come to us with this.”
I drop to my knees at Ella’s feet and wrap my arms around her legs, pressing my head against her thigh. “You’re my little girl, but you’re also my queen. Like I said earlier, everything of mine, is yours.”
Bash drops to the floor next to me and mirrors my position at Ella’s feet. “Everything of mine is yours. Princess. Queen. Benevolent, sexy-ass goddess.”
She giggles and threads her fingers through my hair. If I were Schrodinger, I would purr.
Ella says, “So…you’re not going to punish me for this?”
Bash and I look at each other and our demonic chuckles are low and full of filthy plans.
“Oh, we’re fucking punishing you,” Bash says. “But it’s ’cause we love you, not ’cause we’re mad.”
A couple of hours later, after Ella’s cries of pain and pleasure have echoed off the bedroom walls to all of our satisfaction, she falls asleep between us. Her breathing is soft and even. I glance over at Bash. He’s wide awake, eyes open, staring at nothing.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I whisper.
He shakes his head and whispers back, “Nothing. Asshole at the jam session got into my head.”
“What’d he say?”
“Bullshit, I think. I’ll get over it.” He strokes his fingers along Ella’s arm and whispers, “She’s so achingly young.”
He says it like he’s changing the subject.
But I don’t think he’s changing the subject.