The stark white ceiling is too bright. Do hotel staff repaint it every year? It wouldn't surprise me if they did. The bright morning sun reflects off the white surface. The thick curtains used by normal people to block out the morning light hang open and I roll over to try and hide from the sunny rays. My stomach rumbles as I bury my head in the pillow.If I didn't know better, I'd think I had a hangover.But all the choices I made last night were with a straight head. The vodka I consumed earlier in the evening had burned out of my system long before we reached this hotel room. If I'm suffering from a hangover, it's the emotional kind.Grant pulls on the covers, and a short snore escapes between his lips as he rolls further away. The loss of his body steals my warmth with him. I'm too old to continue playing this game. What in the hell am I doing in Grant Moore's hotel room?Again.I roll to my back and stare up at the ceiling resigned to the fact I'm awake.This.This r
He says "regular suite" like regular people will ever get to watch a game from one of them. I stalled for as long as possible, but we still made the game in time. Grant took a shower at my place even though I freaked out he wouldn't find it clean enough. His bathroom is spotless because someone cleans it for him every day. Drew and I argue over who has to wipe his spit off the mirror.While Grant showered, I hurried to try and sneak out before he finished. I was super close to making my escape, but Drew stopped me at the front door. I'm beginning to think he's on Grant's side in this whole debacle.He used a guilt trip of epic proportions, the size of which I haven't seen since he needed me as his wing man to help him score a date with Charlene Wilkinson back in twelfth grade. A few compliments on her new school wardrobe was all it took to get her to Mrs. Haverbush's house for an afternoon. But my work blew up on our faces when she realized we lived in a foster home. Drew couldn't
The ice in my drink clinks against the glass as my hand catches on the deep red tablecloth when I put my cloth napkin in my lap. I can't remember the last time I ate in a restaurant that had cloth napkins.The whole place screams money. From the dim lighting illuminating the space below us from a crystal chandelier to the open glass view from the windows we're next to. Through the window the city's lights slowly trickle on as twilight turns to night. My head swims. A few quick blinks don't alleviate the problem so I pull my head away from the window and high view. Why do rich people want to be so damn high? Do they enjoy the fantasy of looking down on the peasants from high atop their castle restaurants?My own knight, known for his skill with a sword in a video game rather than real-life sits across from me. The small, thin menu held in front of his face blocks my view of his blue eyes. You'd think rich people would want more options in their dining experiences, but he seems fine
Even as a companion to Grant I'm not good enough for him."Ahh. It makes sense now, Grant." He claps him on the shoulder like they're best buddies. "How much has she squeezed you for in donations?" He laughs like it's the funniest joke anyone has ever heard.It stings. Obviously he thinks the only reason Grant would be seen with someone like me would be over work with the center. There's not a chance we'd be a couple or anything. It's like watching every single fear or insecurity I've had about Grant and me played out before my very eyes.Grant leans forward like he's about to stick up for me or do something worse like introduce me as his girlfriend. I'm not particularly fond of either option."Grant and his friends raised over one hundred thousand dollars for the center earlier this year. He's quite the philanthropist," I say patting him on the arm."That he is. I've never seen Grant make a bad investment."The deep mahogany covered walls move a few inches closer and the a
Clare Cunningham, daughter of Theresa Washington, is forgettable. Everyone who doesn't meet the Cunningham definition of acceptable isn't worthy of his time."What happened? What did I do to upset you?" Grant pleads, but it only intensifies my cries as the minutes pass.The cab slows. I take my head off Grant's shoulder and pretend I didn't get his suit jacket wet from my crying. I don't wait for Grant to pay before I jump out of the cab with my fingers crossed Drew is home.The heavy wooden door bangs on the wall as I shove it open and call out to the empty living room. It takes me three more times before Drew runs out into our shared hallway, his eyes wild ready to take on an attacker.I fall into his arms and Drew squeezes me to his bare chest. "What the hell did you do?" One hand releases me and flies toward Grant hitting him in the upper chest.Grant takes a step back. "I don't know. Everything was fine and then she started crying. Ran from the restaurant.""It was him
DREW: Pizza, beer, baseball game. No complaining.I laugh and type out a quick "fine" reply. With a finger jab to send I throw my phone back in my desk drawer. My best friend has been super nice since everything happened with Grant Saturday night.He made up a believable excuse for me when I missed girls' brunch. We spent the day in our pajamas watching baseball. He even let me eat both pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream in the freezer. Monday he cooked dinner, a family sized dish of Stouffer's macaroni and cheese. And now our Tuesday is apparently booked as well.It's not hard to see his plan to keep me as busy as possible so I won't think about Grant or the fact he hasn't called.Or stopped by.Or sent a text.Not that I expected him to. There's a reason I kept my history a secret, but a show of concern would be nice.Drew's idea is a good one, but it isn't working, not that I have any plans to tell Drew that. Like most men, he wants to fix the problem, but he can't fix t
"Of course not, Clare. It's not my story to tell.""Thank you." We're all saved from the soap opera that is my family. At least for today. I've worked too damn hard to get where I am to have that family fuck it up somehow. "So, what do we do now? I imagine you'll see a lot of him.""I'll work it out," he says with authority. "You'll never see him again."Is it possible? Would Grant choose me over his lifelong friend and business partner? I shouldn't get happy over a ruined friendship, but a thrill rises up at the thought someone picked me."I'll keep you far away from him for the length of the contract, and then when it's over no more deals."I lean back in my chair shocked. This is what I get for thinking I'd be a first choice. "Didn't you say it's a five-year contract?"Grant flinches and I hold out hope he sees how crazy this idea is."Clare," he says my name sadly, but yet with a bit of reproach. Like I don't know how the world works. "The terms of the contract are ir
"I'm not sure this is a good idea."The limo hits a bump and Grant's champagne swirls around his glass. "Of course it is. Now that you've decided we're dating you'll be seeing a lot of these people. It's good to get to know them."That's what I was afraid of.It's surreal. I'm riding in a limo drinking champagne on the way to a ten-thousand-dollar-per-plate dinner. Honestly the whole thing is a bit disgusting. At first I refused when Grant told me how much each plate cost, but he talked me into it by promising he'd already paid. Plus the money is going to charity. But it still feels wrong... like I don't belong here. I haven't run the math, but I could eat for years on what he spent on one plate, charity or not.There's also no guarantee I won't freak out in the middle of dinner and have a Britney Spears circa 2007 breakdown while calling out the rich people. I warned Grant of this possibility, but he said he'd take the risk."You should have let me buy you a new dress," Gran
Six months later"I thought you were painting this room silver?" Hudson asks dropping his half of the couch inside of our brand-new tiny living room. That's not fair. It's bigger than the apartment when I lived with Marissa. Living here will be like me having my own special mansion. Except this time the rent is higher.I put my end of the couch down and then promptly sit at the end of it. I've done my part of moving. This is why we hired movers. I don't know what it is about men wanting to lift heavy objects. Plus, it's not like there's much furniture to move. The old apartment came furnished. This stuff is new.I look at the wall, which shimmers in the bright light from our large open window in the new living room. "I did. It's Silver Fox.""This color is gray.""No, it's Silver Fox.""It looks gray to me."I shake my head in dismay. "Gray is darker."He nods slowly. "Uh-huh. Whatever you say."Hudson and I have been living together since he made the permanent move t
A few weeks later"Wow, Finn hooked you up." My eyes blink a few times trying to adjust to the overpowering glare of so many television screens in one room.Hudson laughs as he steps behind me. "Ridge taught me you can never have too many cameras.""Well, you definitely put his words into practice." No less than thirty flat screen TVs line a wall in the room Finn and Hudson started calling the war room. I'm pretty sure Finn has a camera everywhere Aspen may go in San Francisco. There is even one in the comic shop. The transition has gone well for the most part. Finn and Aspen had a heated debate over her bodyguard situation.Once Hudson accepted the position, he didn't waste time. It's been less than three weeks and he has a war room set up and is spying on half the residents of the city. My man gets shit done."Are you happy?" I ask turning around so we are face to face.Hudson rolls his eyes and says something silently to the ceiling of the room. He's recently taken up pr
The glass automatic door at the airport entrance slides open and I saunter in with a purpose. No woman has ever been as determined as I am to put a man in his place. Full Marissa style.And then maybe win him back. It depends on his response. I've been through tons of shit the last few weeks. I need someone who can handle me and won't chicken out.Aspen and Finn checked me out of the hospital and then took me back to my apartment making me promise I wouldn't leave when I asked to be alone. My mother even listened when I told her it was a great time to visit my brother in Washington. He'll love it.Besides my shattered heart, I'm medically fine. There's no reason for people to be stuck hovering around me. Hurt or not, I've still peopled too much these last few days, so it wasn't hard to press that I needed quiet time. I promised to head right into bed and sleep for a few more days.But I've broken many promises lately. And kept secrets. I am not the same girl I was last year. An
I hate to be a bad friend — who am I kidding, I'm always the bad friend — but Aspen could not have picked a worse time to make her visit. And I love her. She was here all day yesterday. Getting water, refilling water, fluffing my pillow and accidentally pulling on my IV before doing it again while apologizing for pulling on the IV. Hudson and I haven't had two minutes to ourselves. I tried to fake sleep yesterday afternoon, but then they stood around the bed looking and me and whispering."Do you need your pillow fluffed?" she asks for the thousandth time. It's become her filler question. What she asks me if she doesn't know what else to ask.I shake my head, giving Finn my best "calm her down" look, but he doesn't notice. He's so madly in love with Aspen he thinks everything she does is adorable. "I'm fine, Aspen. Relax."My best friend is definitely more put together than Hudson in the last two days, but not by much. Her hair is flat on one side, a little curly on the other, an
A STEADY STREAM of beeps wakes me up to a stream of light.A hospital. It's the place I've woken up the last two days. I can't complain. It's one hundred times better than a concrete floor in an abandoned factory in Oakland. Even still I fight the panic as my brain comes into consciousness. The hospital therapist says eventually there will come a day when I don't wake up ready to flee, but I'm not sure I believe her.My awake body is heavy and sluggish. Yesterday I spent most the day sleeping as my conscious mind worked around what happened after I was taken from the sidewalk in front of Cosmo's.Hudson was shot. I watched it with my own eyes. What I didn't know at the time was the bullet grazed the side of his body and most of his injury was due to the shock of being shot. Even though my mind didn't want to believe it at the time, he led the charge to rescue me. And yes, he absolutely shot Jimmy in the head — a scene I never ever want to see again, but one that plays on repeat e
Breathe. I hit reality with a start. Tears form as I blink my eyes to open them. My shoulder hurts, a tingling stiff sensation like I slept on it wrong. At one point I must have broken out in a cold sweat and my skin is clammy, moist yet chilled. My knuckle scrapes the hard ground underneath my body as I sit up and the events of what happened flood back. It wasn't a bad dream. I've been taken right from the front of Cosmo's. Kidnapped.They shot Hudson.I have no idea how long I slept or where I am. No longer in the van, the room is dark around me and it takes longer than I want for my eyes to adjust. Of course, there's no positive to be found when they do. Sawdust and dirt smells permeate the air. On the ground there's not only cold hard concrete but sharp pieces of wood. I wipe a few from my pants legs only to have them stick to the skin of my fingers.As I try to stand, there's a clink of metal. I tug my foot to find it doesn't move. My leg is bolted to the ground with thick m
"Are you sure you won't walk in there and start crying?" Hudson asks as we stop in front of Cosmo's Comics and Café.I take a deep breath and check myself before I answer because frankly he's probably right to be worried. It's been two days since we met with Drew at the restaurant in Oakland and I spent most of that night crying. I haven't talked to anyone since then. More than likely they think I've been taking this time to apologize to Hudson. He promises he's forgiven and forgotten and even understands why it took so long.Hudson spent the last few days consoling me as I came to terms with finally admitting what happened that night and saying goodbye to Drew if only in my own mind. He's been perfect. He didn't push or yell at me to do it faster or tell me I was being ridiculous. He listened and held me when I needed him. I couldn't ask for a better man.Hudson is everything I've ever wanted in a guy. Sensitive enough to figure out when I'm hurting, but strong enough to tell me
"That's your answer?" Hudson's eyebrows lift.I hit my knee against his. "Hudson."He sighs in agitation."Well, Drew, the way I look at it Amanda doesn't have much to tell. It sounds to me as if in her story you were a friend who was there to help her out. Who didn't want to get involved in a police investigation. But before I can trust her opinion that you're a nice guy, I need proof."Drew laughs even though it's inappropriate for the time. "I don't think I'm a nice guy, but thanks, Amanda.""Um, you're welcome?""I started working construction jobs part time when Clare and I were in foster care." He stops talking right as the story gets good."But you don't do construction work now, do you?" Hudson asks the exact question I've been thinking.It's like pulling teeth to get facts out of Drew, but what he doesn't understand is Hudson will have no qualms telling Ben if he's not satisfied with his answers."Yes and no. From time to time my boss asks me for extra favors
"Sorry, Dean, I've got to get home. Lots of Christmas prep to do."There's no time to chase another raid with so much work to do for Aspen's Christmas celebration. They overdo it for most holidays, but the big ones are the worst.He nods, accepting the answer. I rarely take him up on offers for more raiding or the hundred times he's asked me out for coffee. "Okay, see you next time." He waves, following a large group of people making their way to cars and bikes before heading toward the wharf.I step onto the sidewalk outside the baseball stadium to look for a cab. The road is eerily quiet since there isn't baseball in December and the people from the raid snatched up the cabs. Even though Grant, Clare's boyfriend would kill me, I scroll through my phone and find the Uber app. If I have to call for a ride anyway, I should at least make it a cheap one. He'd be pissed over how close I am to his neighborhood without someone here with me, but it's too late to worry about that now.