Beneath This Mask (Page 42)

She didn’t look up when she said, “I’m not sure I can do that.”

A cold feeling crept into my chest. “What do you mean you’re not sure you can do that?”

“The event. Meet his widow. There’ll be press, right? Cameras?”

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. A few photo ops and it’s done. It’s for a good cause, and it’s pretty painless.”

“I’m not a photo op kind of girl, Simon. I told you before, and I wasn’t kidding.” She finally looked at me, and the stubborn set of her jaw pissed me off. I tried one more time to explain how much this event meant to me.

“I need you with me for this, Charlie. It’s important to me. I want you there, next to me.”

“I should go.” She reached for the door handle, and the grip I had on my temper snapped.

“You’re not getting out of this car until you tell me what the hell you’re hiding from that you can’t risk a goddamn picture in the fucking paper. And pro forma financial statements? What the fuck, Charlie? You’ve gotta give me something here.”

She stilled before slowly turning to face me. Her glare was ice, and her walls were up higher than I’d ever seen. “Don’t talk to me like that, and don’t tell me what to do. It’s not going to work out how you think.”

I slammed my palms against the steering wheel, helpless to stop this conversation from spiraling out of control. “Goddammit. I just want to understand. I could help you if you’d let me. But you won’t give me anything. It’s driving me crazy. I’ve made it pretty fucking clear that I’m in love with you, and I think you love me.” I gestured between us. “This isn’t going to work unless you let me in. If you can’t do that, what’s the point in even trying?”

I wanted to take my words back as soon as they escaped my lips, but I couldn’t. They needed to be said. The ice in her gaze melted into glossy tears. She blinked them back, not letting them spill. I knew what she was going to say before she spoke. Don’t, I thought. Don’t say it, Charlie. She opened her mouth, and I reinforced myself for the blow I knew was coming.

“I guess … there really is no point. We both know I’m no good for you anyway.” She opened the door like she hadn’t just ripped my heart out of my chest. “Goodbye, Simon.”

I swallowed, determined to hold it together. “You said you wouldn’t break my heart.” The words sounded like they’d been dragged over a gravel road before I ground them out.

She turned back to face me, tears streaking down her face. “No, I didn’t. I said I wouldn’t do it without shattering mine.” She dashed away the tears with the side of her hand. Her voice shook as she said, “I didn’t lie about that.” She shut the door and crossed the street without looking back. I watched, unable to comprehend what the fuck just happened, as she fumbled with the lock and finally slipped inside the gate. She was gone.

I buried my face in Huck’s fur and let my tears soak into his rough coat as I listened to the continuous buzzing coming from the intercom. I could have written the scene before it happened. It was inevitable. I should have been better prepared for it. But I hadn’t factored in just how much it would hurt to walk away from him

When the buzzing finally stopped, I knew Simon was gone.

I sniffled back a sob, and Huck’s big brown eyes rested on me. I could only imagine how pitiful I looked.

The raw emotions were too much to handle. I didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to feel. I needed to be numb, or I might not be able to stop myself from going after him.

I was only a few blocks from Bourbon Street. So I’d go with the obvious solution: get drunk and lose myself in the crowd. Lose myself period. I was good at that. I knew I should call Yve or Delilah, but then I’d have to rehash everything that had happened tonight. And I wasn’t ready for that. So I’d go by myself. Because at the end of the day, I was the only person I could rely on anyway.

So, laissez les bon temps rouler.

I slammed shot after shot, shaking my ass on the dance floor, shoving away every guy who attempted to get close. Just like I’d shoved Simon away.

My actions were a sadly accurate metaphor for my life.

The lights were hypnotic, and my buzz was rolling into straight up hammered. I stumbled to the bar and slapped down a twenty. “Two more shots. Tequila.” The bartender didn’t even blink before taking my money and pouring the liquor.

“Lime?”

“No need.” I tossed one back and smacked the glass down on the wooden bar before wiping my hand across my mouth. I looked down at my ink-covered skin and smiled sardonically. The good-girl-falling-for-the-bad-boy stories might have happily ever afters, but you never really heard about what happened when the good guy fell for the bad girl.

Apparently this.

I lifted the other shot in a silent toast to Simon and tipped it back. He deserved better than me. If things had continued on between us, I would’ve eventually dragged him into the suspicion and contempt that surrounded the girl I was pretending not to be. I looked at the bartender and pulled out another twenty.

“Two more, please.”

Then I’d be done. I’d walk my ass home and pass out. I’d call in hung over tomorrow, and Yve would be knocking on my door and dragging me out of bed. Love that girl. The thought cued me in to the fact that I had indeed officially passed buzzed. I downed the last two shots and stumbled my way out of the bar into the mass of humanity on Bourbon. I caught glimpses of tits and ass as I made my way up the street. I spotted Jimmy on the corner. Surprisingly, a hot dog sounded delicious. I hadn’t been by to see Jimmy since shortly after Huck’s accident when I’d promised Simon I wouldn’t walk home alone anymore.