Chapter One #3
As we’re pulling into the driveway, Holly locks the car door, stopping my plan of a quick escape.
“Reilly, you know whatever it is, it could have just been a misunderstanding. Not everyone who gets arrested ends up in jail. You like him, I can tell. You like him more than you want to. You should just ask him.” With that, Holly unlocks the door, leaving me sitting there contemplating her words.
Before getting in the shower and before I can think better of it, I call Alyssa to let her know that Bray was dragged off in handcuffs.
Let’s just say the conversation was short-lived with me ending it promptly when she started to question how I knew Bray was dragged off in handcuffs.
Arghh, I shouldn’t have called her, of course he would have called his brother for help already.
And really, why the hell do I care if he’s left rotting in a cell alone or not?
I don’t, at least that’s what I’m telling myself anyway.
I’ve just had one of the longest showers of my life. Boy, did my body need the hot water streaming down on it. I feel like I’ve ran a marathon; my muscles are sore in places I didn’t know even existed. Not to mention the fact that every time I sit down, I can still feel—nope, not going there again.
As I make my way back to my bedroom, my phone is vibrating on the bedside table where I left it charging. Unplugging the phone, I scroll through what seems to be a million notifications of text messages. Most from an unknown number, a lot from an unknown number. But there is also one from Alyssa.
The curiosity of the unknown number wins out, so I check those first.
UNKNOWN: Where are you?
UNKNOWN: Hello? I’m giving you thirty minutes, babe. If I don’t hear from you, I will come looking.
UNKNOWN: I’m serious. I will hunt you down if I have to!
UNKNOWN: Reilly, please just tell me you at least made it home safely.
UNKNOWN: Twenty minutes left, pumpkin.
UNKNOWN: Fifteen minutes, tell me where you are.
OKAY, obviously these are from Bray, but if he thinks I’m texting him back, he can think again. I don’t even know how he got my number. Without overthinking it, I save his number to my phone before moving onto Alyssa’s messages.
ALYSSA: Reilly, how much do you love me? Actually, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter because the amount is about to grow tenfold!!
ALYSSA: I hope you’re sitting down. Are you ready?
Okay, here it is. I, yes, me, Alyssa, just landed you your dream PR job at only the hottest nightclub in town.
The Merge, ever heard of it? Lol. Anyway, Zac fired his PR lady #bitch last night and I suggested he interview you.
He skipped the interview and is giving you a trial; you need to be at the club in two hours.
OH MY GOD! Ahh! Jumping around and doing a happy dance, I pull myself together enough to text Alyssa back. I cannot believe I have a job at The Merge. It’s like winning the damn lottery. I’m starting to like this Zac more and more.
ME: Alyssa, OMG! I freaking love you, girl!!! Thank you! Boy, you must have really screwed that poor boy’s brains out last night for him to just give me a job like that. Anyway, whatever you did to that cucumber, keep doing it! Tell him I’ll be there.
ALYSSA: Don’t worry, I plan on keeping this cucumber around. I think I really like this one, Rye. And don’t think you’re off the hook. I know something went on with you and Bray last night. I want deets.
ME: Sorry, gotta go get ready. I have a job to get to.
JUST AS I’M walking into my closet, my phone beeps again.
Looking down at the screen, my smile falters, as I see the notification from JTPC, the abbreviated version of my warning to myself, that this one I need to stay clear of.
Junior the pierced cucumber. No, Reilly, you are not letting him ruin this happy moment for you.
I can’t help myself; I open the message up.
JTPC: Reilly, I know you’re on your phone right now. I can see your messages with Alyssa. Answer me, please. I just need to know that you made it home.
BEFORE I HAVE the chance to message him back, telling him where he can shove his concern, another message comes through.
JTPC: Look, I know it was not an ideal situation this morning, but it’s been sorted out. I’m sorry you had to wake up to that. Please, for the love of God, tell me you’re at home and that you’re okay.
NOT IDEAL, that’s laughable. Having the cops banging on the door to arrest the guy you just did all sorts of compromising things with the night before is so far from bloody ideal. My blood is now boiling. I’m mad and I am going to let him have it.
ME: Not Ideal??? You have to be bloody joking, right? You were ARRESTED, Bray. There is nothing ideal about having the cops bang down the door of the guy you were banging the night before! Asshole. Don’t message me anymore. I’m fine. Last night was fun and all, but let’s leave it at that.
SWITCHING MY PHONE ONTO SILENT, I throw it over
to my bed and hunt for the perfect first day on the job outfit.