Aced

“Nah. Never mind.” Shut it down, Donavan. You sound like an idiot. A drunk one at that.

“No. Seriously. Go on.”

I concentrate on drawing lines in the ridges of the worn tabletop. “Shit in our life was just too good. Too perfect. And now with the tape and Ry’s job and . . .” My voice fades as I try to explain the feeling I don’t understand, but that all of a sudden feels like it’s clinging to me like a second skin. “I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop to make this fairy-tale life of ours come crashing down. It’s a shitty feeling.”

“Feelings are like waves, brother. You can’t stop them from coming but you sure as fuck can decide which ones to let pass you by and which ones to surf.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t wipe the fuck out by picking the wrong one.”

Becks and I decide we’re looped enough to brave the chaos.

We push open the back door of Sully’s and are met with blinding flashes of light and a roar of sound. I wince. The alcohol makes the clicking shutters and shouts of my name sound like they’re coming through a megaphone. They stagger me. Blind me.

Anger the fuck out of me.

Sammy’s here. Pushing people back to let Becks and I inch toward the Rover. But each step, each push of the mob against me fuels my fire.

Take a step. A camera hits my shoulders. My fists clench.

“Colton, how does it feel to be the most downloaded video on YouTube in over five years?”

Another step. Questions shout. Sammy’s hands moving people back.

“Colton, are you and Rylee thinking of making a porn soon?”

One more step. A single thought: Rylee dealt with this on her own yesterday on the beach. Motherfucker.

“Colton, how is Rylee handling all of this?”

Another step. The car within reach. Flash in my eyes. Fury in my veins.

Fuck Chase’s no comment advice. Fuck everyone. I’m done. Shoved way too far one way, and now I’m coming back swinging.

“You want a comment?” I shout. Silence is almost automatic. “Well, I’ll give you one.” I glance over to where Becks is standing in the open car door, eyes full of pride, telling me I’m doing the right thing.

“The question is, do you really want to know how we feel or are you just interested in twisting your story because sex sells so much better than the truth? I get it. I do. And if you take the selfless do-gooder who’s spent her life helping others and turn her into a whore who makes sex tapes in exchange for funding . . . well shit, that sells ten times more. But that’s not who Rylee Donavan is.” I take a breath. My body vibrates with anger. My thoughts slowly click together.

That revenge I was looking for just found the most perfect stage of all.

“How about I give you a better story? How about you focus on the sick bastard who released this video of a private moment between my wife and me? How about you go harass the bastard who did this rather than harass my wife? I’ll even give you a head start. Eddie Kimball,” I say, putting my plan in motion. “Focus on why he tried to blackmail us, because I assure you, he definitely had an agenda releasing this video. Sex sells. I get it . . . but uncovering the story behind his bullshit attack on my wife’s reputation would make much better copy.”

Good luck hiding now, you fucking weasel.

The night erupts in sound. But they give me a wide berth because I gave them something. I nod my head in goodbye.

The cameras flash. Each one causes me to feel more and more sober. Makes me to realize what I just did. Slide into the car beside Becks and catch his nod of approval. Rest my head back on the seat with a sigh.

Fuck. You. Eddie.

You want to play hardball? I’ve got your number, you spineless son of a bitch. Right now some little nosey reporter is digging for the story. They’ll connect the dots with your early release from prison. They’ll use your name in the press and it’ll shine like a fucking neon sign, notifying the many you owe a shitload of money to.

Oh, and how they’ll come. I have no doubt about that with the amount of money you owe people. Plus three years worth of interest. They’ll flush you out of hiding and right into karma’s long reaching arms.

The best part is if I don’t want to, I won’t have to lift a single finger to give you what you deserve, because I just did.

Social media can be a bitch when you have shit to hide. Good thing I don’t. Good thing you do.

Revenge can be a mean, nasty fucker sometimes.

“You good?” Sammy asks as he pulls out of the alleyway, leaving the flashing cameras behind.

“Yup.” I sigh, long and loud as I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. It’s crazy how much I need Rylee, right now. “Home please. I miss my wife.”

“DAMN IT,” I SHOUT IN frustration as the flour flies all over the kitchen because I forgot to put the guard around the mixer’s blade. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I look around at the mess. Normally I’d find this amusing, laugh it off, but not right now. Not with how this week has gone. Nothing can seem to pull me from this funk I’m in.

I squeeze my eyes shut and ignore the voices in my head telling me I’m going crazy because I fear that I am. The video’s ripple effect just continues to knock me on my ass. Gone are the things I normally use to center myself: my boys, my freedom outside this house, my work. Even Colton’s visit to Tawny derailed me momentarily. Yes, I felt validated Colton believed enough in my assumption that he went and talked to her, but at the same time, it still knocked me back a step seeing her again.