Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) (22 page)

I splash warm water on my face and shut off the tap. Then I turn my head before I catch full view of my traitorous reflection in the bathroom mirror. I take silent steps back out the living room, my gaze immediately falling on Sydney.
 

What was I thinking? How could I be so weak?

I scan the room for the rest of my clothes, finding my jeans and shirt crumpled in the corner near the door. Right next to the article that’s about to make my life a living hell. It already has.

I clench my teeth, my foot resting right on top of the picture of my dad, as I bend over to retrieve my clothing.
 

Last night I told her I needed her and maybe some part of me does, but that doesn’t change things. The story about my family was leaked and there’s only one person who had access to the tools to connect the dots. But what would she gain from it? I’m officially her client now? How does that help her?

If she got paid for the information, like my mom said, I guess that’s enough of a benefit. Maybe some kind of insurance in case things don’t go well.

I shake my head. I need to get out of here. Then, some how, figure the rest of this out. Mom called a press conference, which I think is a little pompous. I’m not anybody yet. Why feed the drama? I think it’s better to lay low, ride this thing out and deal with the details in private. But based on her phone message, she’s convinced the vultures will only keep digging, putting my career at stake. ‘What team is going to want a player who comes wrapped in scandal?’ I personally don’t think they’ll care, long as I play my heart out, but I’m also not going to argue with her.
 

I’ve got a splitting headache and I can still feel the liquor coursing through my veins. After everything they’ve all just read about my sister and my father, the last thing I need is to flash my hung-over face in front of a bunch of cameras.

I consider the voicemail I left her and can’t help but feel bad about it. What the hell is going on with me? Why am I so drawn to her?

I’m feeling things I’ve never experienced. An admiration for a near total stranger, that borders on obsession. But I can fight it. It’s not like she feels the same and this is exactly how things should end. Besides, I’m not the guilty one.

I pull my shirt over my head and dust my fingers through my hair. It’s time to face the music. I’ll grab a coffee on the way, a shower at the gym and get my change of clothes from my mom. Then I’ll put on the best performance of my life. Whether or not it’ll fill the gaping hole in my gut remains to be seen.

Stretching my legs forward and my arms backwards, I let out a growl of a yawn, then recoil, covering my face with my hands. I’m not alone. I quickly wipe the drool from my face and do my best to fix the mop on my head. At least I haven’t completely let loose.
 

I pray for the few extra moments to watch him sleep. To freely allow myself to enjoy the comfort of my head on his chest. The memories of last night tease me with burning inner thighs and stiff hamstrings. If he’s got me that worn out after a just a quick tease, I can only imagine what the real thing will do.

 
I press my lips together then slowly roll over, then prop myself up on my elbows when I realize he’s not there.

“Ray?”
 

My gaze darts around the room, then falls on the paper on the floor by the door. I climb out of bed and bend to retrieve it. As I do, I notice his shoes are gone. I glance behind me. His clothes too.
 

My gut twists in knots as I take reluctant steps toward the bathroom. I know before I get there it will be empty, so I stop in my tracks, paper still in hand and sink to the floor.
 

I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes, just as my phone chimes.

It’s a text message from Ray that simply says:

Check your messages.

So I do. I have to listen to it three times before I’m finally convinced it means what it so obviously does. But it doesn’t make sense. Especially after last night.

I play it one more time, closing my eyes—mostly to hold back the tears.

“I trusted you and I guess I shouldn’t have. They warned me, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I saw something in you that reminded you of me. That reminded me of everything I lost, everything I never thought I’d find again. It’s not like I was in love but I think I could have been and that’s the saddest part of all. I wish you luck, Sydney. I’m going to do what I have to do now and I truly am sorry if it leaves you somewhere you don’t want to be.”

I clench my jaw, as tears spill onto my cheeks. I’m more angry than sad, but the two emotions simmer together, boiling into a ragged cry that fills the room and humiliates me completely.
 

I press my forehead to my knees, pain washing over me in waves.
 

What the hell is wrong with me? Why does it even matter? So he thinks he’s got it all figured out. So what? He doesn’t. I haven’t done anything wrong.
 

Except convince Reese everything would be okay and now it’s anything but.

But it’s not just that. It’s him too.
 
He’s perfect. Perfect enough that I could probably love him too. Even though I didn’t know it until now.

I shake my head and wipe my face.
 

“You’re better than this, Sydney,” I whisper. “He’s just a stupid guy. You can’t fall in love with someone you barely know.”

I get up from the floor and trail over to the bed again. Plopping down on the mattress, I smooth the paper on my lap and pick up where I left off last night. By the time I am finished, I am shaking with anger. But this time it isn’t directed at Ray.
 

I seize my phone and prepare to scroll through it. That’s when I see it. Another text from Ray.
 

But it isn’t personal like I hope—an apology or a request to see me one last time—it’s a memo, clearly sent to several people. Strictly business.

I open just as quickly anyway.
 

A press conference at noon.
 

He’s decided. And if I’m finding out about his announcement in a mass text, he’s probably leaving me in the cold.
 

I suddenly feel so much worse than before. He just left. He really doesn’t give a damn what happens to me. And for what? A misunderstanding.
 

I force a sharp breath through my nose and scroll back to my contact list. I tap the phone with a little more force than necessary and hold it to my ear.

“Syd, hey.”

“Where are you?” I ask.

“Where else would I be at ten o’clock in the morning?”

“Don’t move. I’m coming over.”

How haven’t I realized just how good Brandon Marx has it? We’ve been friends for a long time and he never seems to be down on his luck. Always has money for the next rent check, always dressed well, so he can sit on his sofa and play the newest video game, on the most expensive console. I should have known better.
 

The door opens and he stands there, cell phone plastered to the side of his face, an obnoxious arch of the eyebrow.
 

“Welcome to Oz,” he says.

I step inside and, the moment the door shuts behind me, I grab ahold of his collar and slam him hard against the wall. Despite the one-foot height difference, I’ve got enough leverage that if I wanted to, I could give him a good jab to the gut.
 

“What the hell is your problem?” Marx’s brown eyes go wide and he holds an arm in front of his face.
 

“You sold that information?” I stand on my tiptoes, in my best effort to level with him. “It was private. You’re such an asshole. If this ruins my life, I swear to god I’ll ruin yours. I’ll tell the whole world who you really are—write my own expose.”

“Sydney…”
 

I let go of him, shoving him backwards. Then I march inside the apartment, taking in my surroundings. There’s a leather sectional, still reeking of newness in the corner and just behind it is a pool table. Both of which weren’t here the last time I was. I turn my glare on my former friend.
 

“Looks like you’re doing well for yourself.”

Marx picks up his cell phone. Then with a grin he scratches his head. “Life’s been good.”

I cross my arms and shake my head. “I’ve been good to you. Why?”

“Nothing personal,” he says with a shrug. “You couldn’t expect me to sit on that. You know me.”

“Do I? Because I thought you were just a guy who helps people. Not a creep who sells sensitive information to make a quick buck!”

“It was worth fifty grand. Fifty grand! You wanted me to give that up?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t know…any of this,” I reply. “You totally blindsided me. You could have given me a heads up. You know how this thing goes between us. Without saying, it’s always confidential.”

“It was a huge story. It’s what I do,” he says. “I’m sorry about your client, okay? I didn’t even think it would be worth that much. I mean, I figured someone must have already known. I guess I got lucky.”

“He wasn’t just a client” My stomach still twists, as I recall waking up to an empty bed. “He’s a friend and you’ve turned his life into a circus.”

Marx picks up a can of red bull, drains it, then tosses it into the recycling bin the corner.
 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Syd. You’re sticking up for a douche with a multi million dollar ticket on his ass?”

“He’s a nice guy. And he doesn’t deserve this. Not to mention his sister.”

“Please,” he rolls his eyes. “People like him could use all the publicity they can get. In a few weeks—two to be exact—the world will forget all about his connection to Luke Black.”

I cross my arms. “Oh, really? Everyone’s just going to forget about the rock legend who had two kids no one knew about until yesterday?”

Marx waves me off. “You know what I mean. It’ll be old news. They’ll be talking about what team he signs with, who he’s dating, how much money he’s making. They are never going to stop talking about him. Someone would’ve figured it out eventually.”

“But he thinks it was me.”

“So tell him it wasn’t.”

I close my eyes in frustration. “You don’t get it. It’s…not that simple. He’s Reese’s client. If I lose him, she’s screwed. She doesn’t need this right now. I don’t need this. Either does Ray.”

“Did he sign a contract?”

“Well, yes but—”

“Then everything’s good. Even if he disputes it, you can sic your lawyers on him.”

“I don’t have lawyers you idiot. I barely have a job.”

Marx places his hands on my shoulders. “You will be fine. Reese will be fine. He will be fine. Everything’ll work out. It’s just how these things go. He’s a celebrity. It comes with the territory.”

I step back and cross my arms. “His sister isn’t. She’s just a girl trying to make a life for herself.”

Marx scoffs. “Based on her history she couldn’t hurt from a few weeks in the limelight. You know what happens to chicks like her? They become instant celebrities. When you’re the daughter of a rock star everybody loves you. I did them both a favor.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. I know, in some small way, he’s right. It’ll all blow over, become yesterday’s news. But that doesn’t mean it’s all roses. What about now? I saw Ray’s face. A connection to his dad isn’t a positive thing, no matter how much people like Marx thinks it is.

“You should have kept it to yourself,” I say. “Instead you went behind my back and told the entire world. We’re done.”

“Wait. What?”

We’ve been working together for a long time. But he’s clearly doing better than me. Not that I mind. What I do mind is him making money off the misery of the people I care about. Marx is a good guy and I wish him the best, but I can’t play a role in his crap.

“I said we’re done. We can be friends. I mean, maybe I’ll see you around. But as far as business goes, that’s it. You screwed me over and it’s not cool.”

“Syd, come on,” he calls behind me as I head toward the door. “You know how hard it is out there. The money I made off that story is nothing compared to what the both of them will make in a lifetime. What if I give you a cut? Come on, girl. You know I’m a desk job kind of guy.”

“You’re an asshole, Marx,” I call back. “I read what you said about his mother. Not cool.”

“Syd, you can’t be serious.”

I close the door, silencing him behind me. Then I glance at my watch. Ten minutes until the press conference. Ten minutes until I discover my fate in this town.

Mom straightens my tie and smooths the collar of my blazer.
 

She smiles and pats my cheek lightly.

“Thanks.” I can barely force the word up my throat. I’m a nervous wreck and I feel like an idiot in this suit.
 

“Oh please. You wore suits almost every day when you were little. You loved them. Besides, you better get used to it,” she says, like the mind reader she is. “You’ll have to wear these more often than not.” She pats my chest. “How you can find this constricting and that heavy uniform so comfortable is beyond me.” She smiles again, this time clasping her hands over her heart. “You look so handsome. So grown up.”

I snicker. “Alright, enough of that.” Then I fold her into my arms and plant a kiss on her head. “I’m so sorry, Mom. For coming at you like that. I’ve just been so stressed out about everything lately and…I don’t know. It’s no excuse, I just—”

She squeezes me back. “It’s perfectly understandable. You have some very big decisions to make. Grown up ones. And it isn’t easy. Trust me, I know. I’ve been there. But I have faith you’ll do the right thing.”

“I will.”

“Willie Mahr is experienced,” she continues, pulling back and holding me at arms length. “He’s been in the business for over thirty years. You can count on a man like that to get you the right contract.”

I nod once. “I know.”