Victim of Love (16 page)

“You’re leaving?” I asked, embarrassed by the hurt in my voice.

“Not leaving,” he said. “I’ll be back for the fireworks and festivities. I just have to run an errand for a couple hours. I’m hoping that my taking Laurie out for breakfast and spending the morning with her will soften the blow a bit. But she’s unpredictable and hates when I work while I’m visiting her.”

I sat up and shifted on the mattress, sitting cross-legged as I faced him. Sighing, I frowned down at him. “You’ve got a job?”

“Just a quick errand. Won’t take long,” he repeated.

I told myself to bite my tongue, but instead blurted out, “So Laurie was right. You really can’t go without working. Even when you’re visiting her.”

Beck’s eyebrows rose. “
That
sounds like judgement, Olsen.”

“I’m sorry, but, it’s just...did you have this job planned? Before you came here? Is that
why
you came here? Why you agreed to this vacation with your sister? Because you had a job down here?”

Beck sat up and took my hand. “I know how this looks. But no, that’s not
why
I came on this trip. It’s just a convenient coincidence. I wanted to see Laurie either way. But an old client contacted me who’s having some financial problems. He has an item he’s been holding onto for years, but now he wants to sell it. And I have a buyer for him, so I’m just going to go take care of it then I’ll be back. It’s all happening right here on the Cape, it’s not like I’m bailing out on the vacation.”

I frowned, but said nothing, lest I sound like I was judging again. Which I most definitely was. The one thing Laurie had asked him not to do was work on this vacation. And he’d promised her he wouldn’t. I’d heard it with my own ears.

“I’ll be back before the festivities start,” he said. “That’s a promise. So can you keep Laurie distracted for me?”

A promise
. I wondered how often he tossed that word around. “Well, what are you going to tell her?”

“That I have an errand to run.”

“She’s going to know, Beck. She’ll know it’s work.”

He nodded. “I know. But I’ve already put in more time with her than I usually do. I’m hoping that will count for something.”

“Why does it have to be you?” I asked. “Can’t this client find another agent to handle this...transaction?”

“The guy’s worked with me in the past. He trusts me. The only other agent he knows personally is Quinn. But I’m sure as shit not calling Quinn, not after I sent him running off on a wild goose chase with that nun statuette.”

I felt so strange in that moment. Here I was, sitting on a bed naked with this man I’d just had mind-blowing sex with. And suddenly the fantasy was gone. I was back to seeing Beck as slightly shady, inconsiderate, untrustworthy. Someone I didn’t know. But that shouldn’t have surprised me. I
didn’t
know this man. And he’d been forthright in telling me I never really would.

Tell me you love me.

I winced inwardly. I couldn’t let him get in my head. Or my heart. My walls went blasting back up with a hard clang, locks falling into place. “Can you at least tell me what the job is?” I asked. “Is there a lot of money at stake? Another mummy head or something?”

Beck chuckled and ran a knuckle across my cheek. “You’re cute. No mummy heads. But it is a confidential job. And one I don’t think you’d want to hear about.”

The silence stretched out. Me staring at Beck. Beck looking expectantly at me. I felt strangely disappointed in him. And used. I shouldn’t have felt that way. I wasn’t his sister, he’d made no promises to me about not working. And I doubted he’d slept with me simply to manipulate me into helping him soften the blow with Laurie. But things suddenly didn’t feel good anymore. In a flash, my temper rose, tired of his secrets and his games.

“Despite the whole fantasy, unreality aspect, you did just tell me you loved me while you had your cock in my ass,” I said. “The least you could do is tell me what this job is that’s so important. You’re asking
me
to help you out with your sister, after all. You’re asking me to have your back.”

Beck’s lips pursed, and he scowled, then sighed. “Okay.” He nodded. “Okay, Olsen. The client has a piece of the wreckage from John F. Kennedy Jr.’s plane. He wants to sell it. And someone wants to buy it.” He shrugged. “That’s the job.”

I cocked my head. “You mean the plane he crashed? The one that killed him? And his wife? And sister-in-law?”

“That’s the one.”

My face pulled into a grimace, unable to help myself. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“But that’s...that’s morbid and insensitive and...wrong. Why would someone want that? Just as a fucking keepsake? A trophy? What?”

“I don’t know, Olsen. People are into it. I don’t keep the stuff, I just organize the sale. It’s not
me
who wants the damn thing.”

“But JFK Jr...he was a person. And he died in that plane, don’t you see how creepy and wrong that is?”

“He was a public figure. Now he’s a historical figure.”

“Historical figure? He died in 1999! This isn’t some ancient queen or mummy. The people who died in that crash have families still living. Do
they
know this is going on?”

Beck chuckled. “I doubt that.”

I stared at him. Maybe I was being overly dramatic in my indignant defense of John-John’s death legacy. It wasn’t like I’d known the guy personally. But my gut roiled with the information. And the fact that Beck was so cavalier about it.

“So you feel nothing about this?” I asked.

Beck’s jaw stiffened. “I feel like I’m gonna get paid.”

“That’s it. You have no other feelings about this. It doesn’t bother your conscience in the least. No moral compass?”

“I can’t allow myself to feel anything about it!” He grabbed my wrist when I turned my head away. “Look at me.”

I met his eyes again.

“Olsen, I
told
you I wear a mask sometimes.” He gave his cheek a double slap. “This is it. This is my mask. It keeps me separated from things like feelings and horror and moral compasses. It protects me. I
need
it. Otherwise I can’t do my job.”

“Well maybe you should think about getting another job if it forces you to wear a mask.”

Beck buried his face in his hands, growling softly, then looked at me again. “The mask came before the job. Not the other way around.”

“Well what the fuck is underneath ‘the mask’, Beck?” I asked, making air quotes.

“Nothing,” he said. “There’s nothing underneath.”

“I don’t believe you. That’s just pretentious bullshit talk.”

Beck chuckled, but his eyes were sad. “Okay. You’re right. That was a lie. There is something underneath the mask. But trust me. You
don’t
want to see what it is.”

I bit my lip, studying him. “Why do you pretend to be so hard? When you’re obviously so soft inside?”

His head jerked back. “I’m not pretending anything. I’m being honest as hell with you right now. Why would you say that?”

“I thought pretending was your thing,” I said. “You certainly did a good job of it when we were fucking. That was an Academy Award performance.”

Beck’s face folded into an angry scowl, and I knew I’d gone too far. My comment was bitchy and insensitive and sounded way,
way
too needy, and I wanted to take it back. I had, after all, agreed to the pretense before we had sex.

“You say you want to know the real me, Olsen? Why? Clearly you don’t even particularly like the fake version.”

Beck got out of bed and pulled on his pants. He was in a state now, cursing under his breath, tossing a shoe across the room when he couldn’t find its mate. Finally he just headed for the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.

I slid off the bed and stood. “Where are you going?”

“For a walk. Please be gone by the time I get back.”

“Beck!”

He turned back, eyes sad as he looked at me. “You should have just enjoyed the fantasy, Olsen.”

And then he was out the door.

I gathered my clothes and dressed quickly, then stepped out into the dark night. Rounding the bungalow, I crept in through the back doors and made it to my room without incident, closing the door behind me.

Falling onto my bed, I stared up at the ceiling. I didn’t feel good, and I couldn’t sleep. My mind raced with a dozen conflicting thoughts. I couldn’t stop the circus in my brain no matter how hard I tried.

Thinking about Beck. Thinking about sex. Having visions of John F. Kennedy Jr. crashing his plane into the sea. Thinking about sex again. Thinking about mummy heads. My plan had backfired tonight. I hadn’t fucked the crazy out of Beck. I’d tried.

But somehow, Beck had managed to turn it around, and fuck the crazy right back into me.

Chapter Seven

One More Night

I didn’t see Beck at all the following morning, because I’d slept in a bit after tossing and turning all night. When I got up I learned that as promised, Beck had taken Laurie out for breakfast and sibling bonding time. I was relieved he was gone, and at the same time I was melancholy thinking he might not come back at all after his job, his macabre ‘errand’ to sell a piece of Kennedy’s death trap. Despite all that had happened, I didn’t want him to leave without saying goodbye. While my mind acknowledged that the liaison with Beck had gotten fucked up in a way that could likely never be unfucked, the part of me that had a six-ton crush on him longed to once again be in his arms, to once again turn a blind eye to his obvious complexities, just so I could feel the bliss and excitement of being in bed with Beck Turner.

I couldn’t help thinking that I should have known better. When I’d sought to stir up the complacency of my peaceful life, I’d willfully neglected to consider the cost. I’d wanted chaos, and it was only logical that chaos came with a price, and that price was pain. Beck was that truth staring me in the face. I couldn’t embrace Beck’s chaos without also embracing his pain, as the two were irrevocably intertwined. I suspected he’d made a sincere attempt to separate them for my benefit, and for his own, as I truly believed he’d wanted to experience my calm waters as much as I’d wanted to experience his turbulent ones. The effort failed, and had led to awkwardness, embarrassment, and regret.

Even so, I knew in my heart I’d never regret my spin on Beck’s crazy carousel, because despite getting emotionally knocked around a bit, I’d felt more alive taking that ride than I’d ever felt in my entire life.

But with the help of Townsend, Kamal, and Pippa dragging me out on the water for some jet skiing, I actually managed to put Beck out of my mind—aside from the fact that my butt was a bit sore from our romp last night. With the fresh air and ocean spray in my face as I sped along the waves with my friends, I managed to work myself into a good mood.

By the time we returned and sat down for beers and huge plates of steamers at the poolside bar, I’d convinced myself I didn’t care if Beck Turner came back to the resort later or not. Being physically separated from his near mystical sex appeal, the spell of him dissipated somewhat. Which was both refreshing and disheartening, as I was now clear-headed enough pick up the shattered pieces of my dignity. Telling him I loved him, for crying out loud. Agreeing to pretend we were serious. What the hell had gotten into me? Besides Beck’s cock, of course.

I was pleased Kamal hadn’t brought the subject up again, though I suspected he knew I was out of sorts, as he kept squeezing my shoulder, or giving me a quick pat on the back. It was kind of sweet, and while I normally rolled my eyes at Kamal’s mothering me, today it gave me some much needed comfort.

As afternoon bled into evening, we all went back to the bungalow to shower and change for the night’s festivities. On the private beach directly in front of the resort, they were setting up tables and drink huts for the fireworks celebration. There would be food and bonfires and entertainment, and after a shower and a strong margarita that Kamal made for me, I determined that I would not only survive the night, I would thrive. I was even looking forward to meeting Kamal’s friends from P-town, though a new love connection was the last thing on my agenda. After the last few days with Beck, I determined to hang up my sexual boxing gloves for a good long while.

Pippa was the last of us to hit the shower, and as we hung out on the bungalow’s patio waiting for her, Laurie returned from her day trip with Beck, loaded up with shopping bags. The man himself was nowhere in sight, and though she smiled and chatted briefly with us about how Beck had spoiled her, I thought she looked slightly forlorn. When Townsend asked her the whereabouts of her brother, she merely said, “He’ll be back later,” then went inside to change her clothes.

In a short while, Pippa and Laurie came out onto the patio, both wearing brightly colored tropical print sundresses, each with their hair pinned up in the back. I smiled. I was used to going out with this particular crowd in Boston, and found it amusing that whenever Laurie and Pippa got ready together, they ended up in very similar getups. Now that Beck was gone, I had to admit I was enjoying being with just the core crew again, the familiarity of people I knew well.

“I am so ready for a drink,” Laurie said. “Should we head down to the beach?”

“I have to wait for Ricky and the gang, I can meet you guys there when they show up,” Kamal said.”

Townsend stood and clapped his hands. “I’m ready. I saw the setup, they’ve got a ton of food, and I am a large, bipedal hominid that needs to eat.”

At that moment, three men came around the corner of the bungalow from the driveway side, and Kamal leapt out of his chair, a bright smile on his face. “Hey, they’re here!”

I’d never seen Kamal quite so enthusiastic, but then I always saw him around the lot of us—his work colleagues. Sure, we were all friends with Kamal, but I could see by the warm greeting—smiles and kisses on the lips and playful pats on the back—that these men probably represented his
real
friends, his original party friends.

One was a handsome black man with a goatee, roughly Kamal’s age with graying temples, in a dazzlingly bright tee shirt sporting American flag colors. Then there were two blonds, one very tall and thin, about forty, crunchy granola looking with his long Jesus hair, paisley shirt, and sandals. The other blond was slightly shorter than I was and dressed more preppy in canvas shorts and polo shirt, with a cute mop of streaky yellow hair and a nice smile. I recognized him as the guy in the photo Kamal had shown me, the one on the seawall who was supposedly interested in me.
Max
. Just on first impressions alone, Max didn’t look like someone who would be friends with Kamal. He seemed to me a bit of a mismatch with the other two men, much younger, and I hoped he hadn’t been dragged along simply as a consolation prize for
me
.