Riptide Affair, page 21
Panic.
Love.
Anguish.
Every emotion I've felt throughout the last week swirls in my head, pounding through my neurons, making it impossible to distinguish exactly what I'm feeling in this moment. At this time.
All I know is, she's alive.
Merrin is alive.
And I need to go.
I have to.
But first...
“Are you okay?”
Merrin's bottom lip wobbles, but she nods, just once, and that's enough for me.
“Good.”
With that, I hop off the dock and stomp to shore, never looking back, never meeting the eyes of anyone I pass.
“Jared! Are you okay?”
Someone touches me, and that's the only reason I turn. I'm angry someone touched me. Because for that split second, the fingers on my forearm allowed some of the overwhelming emotion I'm drowning in to lessen.
“I'm fine,” I tell her, never stopping as I trudge toward my Jeep.
Becky keeps up with my long steps. Today, she doesn't have a hamster in her pocket or a bird on her shoulder or a snake wrapped around her arms. Her long hair is loose, and she's dressed in a strapless top and skimpy shorts, her eyes wide with worry as they track me.
“Oh my God, you're bleeding!” She grabs my hand, inspecting my knuckles.
I shake my head, surprised as hell when a laugh escapes. “Not my blood.”
“Oh...well...good.” She squeezes my wrist and I'm so flooded with adrenaline, so out of my mind with warring thoughts, that I grab her hand and hold it, dragging her behind me.
“Are you sure you're okay? Where are we going?”
I don't answer.
If she wants to leave, she'll tell me. If she tries to stop me, I'll stop. But right now, I have to get the taste of Merrin off my lips. I have to erase the sensation in my palms, lingering from being pressed between her breasts.
I have to rid my body of her.
When we reach the Jeep, I open the passenger side door and there's not a bit of hesitation on Becky's part as she grins and hops inside. I slam the door and march to the other side, not giving two shits that I gave Brian my keys earlier tonight. I'm not planning on going anywhere.
As soon as my ass hits the seat, I turn to Becky and grab her by the back of her head, pulling her to me. Our lips meet over the console and she eagerly kisses me, only stopping when she runs out of breath.
“Don't you have a girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “Had.”
“Oh, thank God!” she groans. Hopping over onto my seat, she straddles my lap and kisses me, rough and sloppy. “I want you so bad right now.” She shoves her top down, allowing her tits to fall free. They're nice tits. Her stomach is flat and tan, but I'm not into it. Like, at all. But that doesn't matter. I have to fuck Merrin out of my system before the memory of loving her drives me crazy, and I have to do it tonight. Right now.
I kiss up and down her bare neck, trailing tongue and teeth over unfamiliar flesh, barely tolerating the way she's grinding against my lap. When that's not enough, Becky reaches between us and rips my swim trunks open, reaching inside. Dick in hand, she starts pumping, and I kiss her harder, holding her head in both hands, like I'm trying to steal her ability to breathe.
But I feel nothing.
Becky stops what she's doing, and I open my eyes to find her staring.
“What?” I ask. “What's wrong?”
A heavy, forlorn sigh fills the Jeep. “This...this doesn't feel...” Finally, she laughs and shakes her head, sending her wild hair flying. “I don't feel anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“ I mean...I've lusted after you for months and now that you're right here between my legs...nothing. The lady cave is just as drive and lifeless as it was an hour ago.”
I try not to cringe at the way she describes her pussy. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Jared, it's not you.” She threads her fingers through my hair and frowns. “And I think you feel the same way.”
“What? No, I was totally into—”
“Jared,” she says, cutting me off.
“What?”
She points to my lap and I look down. My dick has never been so limp.
“Oh.”
Becky shrugs, a lighthearted smile tugging at her lips. “Well...we tried, right?”
“Yeah.” I'm a little confused. Stunned. Maybe a tad bit emasculated. “Right.”
She sits back in her seat and starts adjusting her shirt, tucking the twins away as I do the same with the limpest dick in town.
“Well, have a good night,” she says, ruffling her hair. “See you around?”
“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” I am so fucking lost.
She opens the door and all but falls out onto the ground, gripping the top of her wrinkled shirt so she doesn't expose herself, and I curse and hop out behind her. Rounding the front of the Jeep, I'm just about to offer a hand to help her, when a familiar set of eyes—scratch that, three familiar sets of eyes—land on the scene we've made.
Laura and Brian have Merrin between them, her arms slung over their shoulders, their hands pinned to her hips to keep her upright. Her eyes are pained, still slightly unsteady, but the second they land on me, they widen. A grateful smile graces those beautiful lips I've kissed a hundred times, and then she turns, her gaze landing on Becky, and everyone freezes. Even me. Especially me.
I look back and forth between the two women, hoping neither of them register what's happening here, but that hope is crumpled when Merrin's eyes fill with tears.
“Merrin...” I take a step toward her, reaching out, but for what? Why? Because I hurt her? Because I betrayed her? Because I...what...got even?
Her stricken expression crumbles into something that churns my stomach and she looks away, burying her face in Laura's neck. A quiet sob reaches my ears as her two chauffeurs drag her away, both looking over their shoulders to give me a disapproving glare that makes me feel like an even bigger ass.
Fuck. Me.
I take a step in their direction, needing to go to her but not knowing why, when a hand grabs my arm, stopping me. I don't even know who it is but I'm grateful. What the hell would I say?
“Don't, Jared,” Harper says, pity ringing loud and clear in her voice. Pity for me. For the fucked up mess I've become. “Just let her go. We need to get her home and...and I think she's had enough excitement for one night.” Her eyes harden. The pity flees. She saw Becky leave too. Which is why she shakes her head and walks away.
Kate comes by a second later, flanked by a tall, sturdy man in uniform, holding a clip-board. His name is Robert or Roberto or something like that, and I remember him from my time on the fire department. “First responders wanna talk to you,” she says, coming to a stop right beside me, but her eyes never meet mine.
I scrub both hands over my face. “Of course they do.”
Suddenly exhausted, I watch Merrin disappear into the shadows. Then I turn back to face Kate, even though she refuses to look at me.
“Didn't think it was possible, but I think I just made her night worse.”
Kate's jaw ticks as she nods. “Yup. Proud of yourself?”
My hackles rise. “Hey, I was the one who got her breathing again. I haven't been a complete waste of space tonight, Kate.”
Finally, her eyes meet mine, and she smiles, but it's the saddest damn thing I've ever seen. “You sure did. Lungs are workin' great. Now it's just her heart we have to worry about.”
She stalks away in the direction Merrin left and it takes everything in me to keep the scream building in my chest from exploding. That will come later tonight. When I'm alone. Cursing myself for the way I've behaved.
This isn't me. I'm not that guy. But heartbreak is shaping me into a man I don't recognize.
A man I'm beginning to hate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Merrin
“Get the hell out.”
Kate storms my way, pointing a ticket pad at my face, but I keep walking toward the front, my body coming apart with pain with every step. A pain I welcome.
“You're not working today,” she says, marching next to me. “No way in hell. You have three broken ribs!”
“Cracked ribs,” I correct, grabbing a fresh ticket pad and pen from the station. “And I have pain meds. I'll be fine.”
“You're not supposed to be driving while taking those.”
I grab the bottle from my apron and shake it in her face. “Haven't taken them yet.”
Her eyes flare. “And how do you expect to drive home after your shift?”
“It'll be time for another dose once my shift ends. Relax.”
There's so much I'm not saying. So much I'm bottling inside, hiding away from the light, lest it push me over the edge and make breathing as difficult as it was two days ago when my lungs filled with river water.
“You have to relax. You have to heal!” she urges. “Go home, Merrin. This is ridiculous. You're being a child. If you're in pain, you need to go home. End of story.”
“I'm not hurting.”
She grabs hold of my arm, pulling me to a stop before I can leave the kitchen, which hurts. “Bullshit,” she seethes. “That is such bullshit!”
“Fine,” I say, sagging. “It's bullshit. Just let me work. Please? I'm going crazy at home. I'm about to lose my fucking mind. You have to let me stay.”
“I know avoidance and repression is your favorite game right now, but you won't be doing anyone any favors if you spend all day scaring the customers. You look like death.”
It's true. I know it is. My hair is in a ratty ass bun at the top of my head, my makeup is nonexistent, and I've cried so hard and so much over the past couple of weeks that the whites of my eyes have become a sickly pink color.
Dunno why I'm single. Clearly, I'm a catch...
“Thanks. You look pretty too.” She goes to speak, but I'm already through the kitchen doors, heading to the front to do my job.
Harper just sat my section, so I'm saved from having to try and avoid Kate. I saunter up to the table, fake smile at the ready, and set two rolls of silverware on the table.
“Morning, gentlemen. What can I get you all to drink?”
And just like that, I fall back into my everyday routine of waiting tables, smiling until my cheeks hurt, and pretending like I have my shit together. But the reality I'm hiding is dark and depressing, threatening to take me back under the surface every time I close my eyes for too long, every time I pass that damn fish tank and envision my body floating at the top, bloated and blue. Every time I swallow and taste his blood in my mouth. Every time I open my eyes and bolt up in bed, seeing the ghost of Jared's presence towering over my naked body, eyes angry, voice booming, hands reaching out to toss me out of his life.
How did things get so damn complicated? How did we go from ice cream dates and passionate lovemaking on kitchen tables to this...this boiling, festering hatred of not only one another, but ourselves?
Needing a breather between tables, I retreat to the ladies' room, hoping for a little solitude, but when I shove through the door I'm met with the sight of everyone's favorite hostess standing on a toilet, blowing smoke into the exhaust fan.
“Harper! I thought you quit.”
She looks down at me, her smile framed by a smoke ring.
“He still loves you.”
It's so out of left field, so blunt, so hurtful, that I can't help but bristle.
“Oh yeah? What gave it away? The fact that he looked like the act of saving my life made him physically ill? Or was it the half-naked woman falling out of his truck right after?” She opens her mouth to reply, but I don't let her. “You know what, it doesn't matter if he loves me or not. That just...it doesn't factor. It's completely fucking irrelevant at this point.”
She blows out a steady stream of smoke and flicks her ashes into the trash can. “Of course it matters, sweetheart.”
I rub at my pounding temples.
Why? Why now? Why is she all of a sudden a romantic who feels the need to go all Dr. Phil on my ass? I need the cantankerous, pessimistic, she-woman-man-hater I've always known her to be.
“Hate to rain on your parade, but right now, in this instance, you're wrong. It doesn't matter.” I turn on the hot water and scrub my hands a little too vigorously, needing some kind of physical distraction so I don't rip my hair out. “Love should be unconditional, therefore requiring forgiveness, and Jared's never going to forgive me because—here's a thought—maybe I don't deserve to be forgiven.”
She tilts her head to the side, inspecting my expression. “I thought you were past that. I thought you'd made peace with the fact that you made a mistake.”
I had. Trouble is...that frame of mind only made things worse. Every time his love-poisoned eyes have turned my way, the guilt of what I did—despite my intent—spears me so deep it's hard to breathe. Hard to remember why I'm fighting so hard against the inevitable.
“Maybe it's better to be persecuted for your sins instead of forgiven.”
Harper blows a steady stream of smoke toward my upturned face then shakes her head. “Horse shit.”
I jerk back in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“I said...Horse. Shit.” Her feet hit the floor as she abandons her toilet perch. “He loves you. You love him. It's pretty simple math.”
“The math doesn't matter!” I slice my hands through the air, slinging water from my fingertips. “I screwed up! I screwed up and no matter what I say or do, it doesn't matter, because he's done. With me. For good.”
Harper's dark hair swishes back and forth as she slowly shakes her head. “If love can't fix what's broken, if human connection doesn't trump everything else, then there's no hope for anyone on this godforsaken planet and we're all fucked.”
Cynical of her new level of enlightenment, I stare down at the cigarette pinched between her fingers.
“There weed in that?”
She holds it up between us, her black-painted fingernails shining under the fluorescent lights. “Don't know,” she smiles. “Is there?”
I take it. I haven't smoked since Laura's Halloween party five years ago when I vowed never to do it again, but I bring it to my lips and inhale until bitter smoke fills my lungs.
Yup. Definitely pot.
“You're a heathen,” I manage to spit out while hacking up a lung and handing the 'cigarette' back.
“No arguments here. Now get back out there and try not to kill anyone, 'kay?” Harper grins, then her eyes fall to my apron. “You gonna get that?”
I realize—belatedly, thanks to the thin veil of brain fog setting in—that my phone is ringing. When I check the screen, I cringe.
“Ugh. It's the clinic.”
Staring at the offending device, I consider letting it go to voicemail, but before I can stop her, Harper's grabbed my phone, answered the call, and thrust it into my heavy hands.
“Uh...hello?”
“Hi! Is this Merrin Takahashi?” The voice at the other end of the line is far too perky.
“It is.”
“Great! This is May from Lunessi Industries. I'm calling in regards to your appointment at our Missouri branch. Do you have a few minutes to answer some follow up questions?”
I don't, actually, since I'm on the clock, but holing up here in the bathroom for a few more minutes sounds infinitely better than going back out to the dining room and facing all that.
“Sure.”
“Awesome! Thank you so much, Miss Takahashi. Okay, so, first off, did you have any side effects from the medication you were given?”
Other than a complete lapse in judgment and common sense?
“No, Ma'am.”
“Wonderful.” She taps away on her keyboard. “And were you and your partner satisfied with the overall effectiveness of the medication?”
Absolutely not.
“Yes.”
“That's so good to hear. Now, did you experience any restlessness, depression, anxiety, or thoughts of suicide?”
“Sure didn't.”
Lie. Lie. Lie.
“That's what we like to hear!” She laughs, but it's so generic I roll my eyes. She's reading from a script, I know it. “Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to call back in a few days with a customer satisfaction survey, just so we know that our staff at the Blackjack clinic did anything and everything in their power to ensure your participation in the trial was as pleasant as possible. I also need to schedule your blood draw and final labs closer to the end of the month. Would that be okay?”
I bottle up a sigh and force it to die in my lungs. “Of course.”
“Awesome,” she drawls. “Well, that's all I need from you for now. Do you have any questions or concerns you'd like to voice before we wrap up?”
Concerns for my sanity, maybe.
Like a lightning bolt, something dawns on me and I realize I do have one question.
“Could you tell me which pill I received?”
She pauses and I hear papers rustling in the background. “Yes, I can do that. Now that the initial trial is over and you've submitted your exit exam and non-disclosure agreement, I can pull your file. Hold please.”
Too-loud elevator music blares from the speaker and I have to pull the phone away from my ear. Anxiety spikes in my chest, causing a sheen of sweat to pebble on my forehead, which is stupid. Her answer doesn't mean a thing. Besides, I know exactly which pill I was given.
“Okay, here it is,” she chirps, sounding out of breath. “Looks like you were given the placebo.”
Yup. I knew it. I knew—wait...
What?
“The placebo,” I parrot back, looking up to where Harper is staring at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. “Are—are you sure?”
She clicks a few more keys. “Yup. Right here. Merrin Takahashi. Thirty-one. Added to Control Group Two. Meaning, you did not receive the actual drug, but an innocent sugar pill instead.”
Innocent sugar pill.
There has to be some kind of mistake. What happened with Jared in the elevator...what happened in the weeks following...I've chalked it up in my head to loose inhibitions paired with a side of love drug.
“That's—” I start to say 'impossible', but, well, I'm not about to accuse this woman of lying to me. “That's great. Thank you.”
Love.
Anguish.
Every emotion I've felt throughout the last week swirls in my head, pounding through my neurons, making it impossible to distinguish exactly what I'm feeling in this moment. At this time.
All I know is, she's alive.
Merrin is alive.
And I need to go.
I have to.
But first...
“Are you okay?”
Merrin's bottom lip wobbles, but she nods, just once, and that's enough for me.
“Good.”
With that, I hop off the dock and stomp to shore, never looking back, never meeting the eyes of anyone I pass.
“Jared! Are you okay?”
Someone touches me, and that's the only reason I turn. I'm angry someone touched me. Because for that split second, the fingers on my forearm allowed some of the overwhelming emotion I'm drowning in to lessen.
“I'm fine,” I tell her, never stopping as I trudge toward my Jeep.
Becky keeps up with my long steps. Today, she doesn't have a hamster in her pocket or a bird on her shoulder or a snake wrapped around her arms. Her long hair is loose, and she's dressed in a strapless top and skimpy shorts, her eyes wide with worry as they track me.
“Oh my God, you're bleeding!” She grabs my hand, inspecting my knuckles.
I shake my head, surprised as hell when a laugh escapes. “Not my blood.”
“Oh...well...good.” She squeezes my wrist and I'm so flooded with adrenaline, so out of my mind with warring thoughts, that I grab her hand and hold it, dragging her behind me.
“Are you sure you're okay? Where are we going?”
I don't answer.
If she wants to leave, she'll tell me. If she tries to stop me, I'll stop. But right now, I have to get the taste of Merrin off my lips. I have to erase the sensation in my palms, lingering from being pressed between her breasts.
I have to rid my body of her.
When we reach the Jeep, I open the passenger side door and there's not a bit of hesitation on Becky's part as she grins and hops inside. I slam the door and march to the other side, not giving two shits that I gave Brian my keys earlier tonight. I'm not planning on going anywhere.
As soon as my ass hits the seat, I turn to Becky and grab her by the back of her head, pulling her to me. Our lips meet over the console and she eagerly kisses me, only stopping when she runs out of breath.
“Don't you have a girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “Had.”
“Oh, thank God!” she groans. Hopping over onto my seat, she straddles my lap and kisses me, rough and sloppy. “I want you so bad right now.” She shoves her top down, allowing her tits to fall free. They're nice tits. Her stomach is flat and tan, but I'm not into it. Like, at all. But that doesn't matter. I have to fuck Merrin out of my system before the memory of loving her drives me crazy, and I have to do it tonight. Right now.
I kiss up and down her bare neck, trailing tongue and teeth over unfamiliar flesh, barely tolerating the way she's grinding against my lap. When that's not enough, Becky reaches between us and rips my swim trunks open, reaching inside. Dick in hand, she starts pumping, and I kiss her harder, holding her head in both hands, like I'm trying to steal her ability to breathe.
But I feel nothing.
Becky stops what she's doing, and I open my eyes to find her staring.
“What?” I ask. “What's wrong?”
A heavy, forlorn sigh fills the Jeep. “This...this doesn't feel...” Finally, she laughs and shakes her head, sending her wild hair flying. “I don't feel anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“ I mean...I've lusted after you for months and now that you're right here between my legs...nothing. The lady cave is just as drive and lifeless as it was an hour ago.”
I try not to cringe at the way she describes her pussy. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Jared, it's not you.” She threads her fingers through my hair and frowns. “And I think you feel the same way.”
“What? No, I was totally into—”
“Jared,” she says, cutting me off.
“What?”
She points to my lap and I look down. My dick has never been so limp.
“Oh.”
Becky shrugs, a lighthearted smile tugging at her lips. “Well...we tried, right?”
“Yeah.” I'm a little confused. Stunned. Maybe a tad bit emasculated. “Right.”
She sits back in her seat and starts adjusting her shirt, tucking the twins away as I do the same with the limpest dick in town.
“Well, have a good night,” she says, ruffling her hair. “See you around?”
“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” I am so fucking lost.
She opens the door and all but falls out onto the ground, gripping the top of her wrinkled shirt so she doesn't expose herself, and I curse and hop out behind her. Rounding the front of the Jeep, I'm just about to offer a hand to help her, when a familiar set of eyes—scratch that, three familiar sets of eyes—land on the scene we've made.
Laura and Brian have Merrin between them, her arms slung over their shoulders, their hands pinned to her hips to keep her upright. Her eyes are pained, still slightly unsteady, but the second they land on me, they widen. A grateful smile graces those beautiful lips I've kissed a hundred times, and then she turns, her gaze landing on Becky, and everyone freezes. Even me. Especially me.
I look back and forth between the two women, hoping neither of them register what's happening here, but that hope is crumpled when Merrin's eyes fill with tears.
“Merrin...” I take a step toward her, reaching out, but for what? Why? Because I hurt her? Because I betrayed her? Because I...what...got even?
Her stricken expression crumbles into something that churns my stomach and she looks away, burying her face in Laura's neck. A quiet sob reaches my ears as her two chauffeurs drag her away, both looking over their shoulders to give me a disapproving glare that makes me feel like an even bigger ass.
Fuck. Me.
I take a step in their direction, needing to go to her but not knowing why, when a hand grabs my arm, stopping me. I don't even know who it is but I'm grateful. What the hell would I say?
“Don't, Jared,” Harper says, pity ringing loud and clear in her voice. Pity for me. For the fucked up mess I've become. “Just let her go. We need to get her home and...and I think she's had enough excitement for one night.” Her eyes harden. The pity flees. She saw Becky leave too. Which is why she shakes her head and walks away.
Kate comes by a second later, flanked by a tall, sturdy man in uniform, holding a clip-board. His name is Robert or Roberto or something like that, and I remember him from my time on the fire department. “First responders wanna talk to you,” she says, coming to a stop right beside me, but her eyes never meet mine.
I scrub both hands over my face. “Of course they do.”
Suddenly exhausted, I watch Merrin disappear into the shadows. Then I turn back to face Kate, even though she refuses to look at me.
“Didn't think it was possible, but I think I just made her night worse.”
Kate's jaw ticks as she nods. “Yup. Proud of yourself?”
My hackles rise. “Hey, I was the one who got her breathing again. I haven't been a complete waste of space tonight, Kate.”
Finally, her eyes meet mine, and she smiles, but it's the saddest damn thing I've ever seen. “You sure did. Lungs are workin' great. Now it's just her heart we have to worry about.”
She stalks away in the direction Merrin left and it takes everything in me to keep the scream building in my chest from exploding. That will come later tonight. When I'm alone. Cursing myself for the way I've behaved.
This isn't me. I'm not that guy. But heartbreak is shaping me into a man I don't recognize.
A man I'm beginning to hate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Merrin
“Get the hell out.”
Kate storms my way, pointing a ticket pad at my face, but I keep walking toward the front, my body coming apart with pain with every step. A pain I welcome.
“You're not working today,” she says, marching next to me. “No way in hell. You have three broken ribs!”
“Cracked ribs,” I correct, grabbing a fresh ticket pad and pen from the station. “And I have pain meds. I'll be fine.”
“You're not supposed to be driving while taking those.”
I grab the bottle from my apron and shake it in her face. “Haven't taken them yet.”
Her eyes flare. “And how do you expect to drive home after your shift?”
“It'll be time for another dose once my shift ends. Relax.”
There's so much I'm not saying. So much I'm bottling inside, hiding away from the light, lest it push me over the edge and make breathing as difficult as it was two days ago when my lungs filled with river water.
“You have to relax. You have to heal!” she urges. “Go home, Merrin. This is ridiculous. You're being a child. If you're in pain, you need to go home. End of story.”
“I'm not hurting.”
She grabs hold of my arm, pulling me to a stop before I can leave the kitchen, which hurts. “Bullshit,” she seethes. “That is such bullshit!”
“Fine,” I say, sagging. “It's bullshit. Just let me work. Please? I'm going crazy at home. I'm about to lose my fucking mind. You have to let me stay.”
“I know avoidance and repression is your favorite game right now, but you won't be doing anyone any favors if you spend all day scaring the customers. You look like death.”
It's true. I know it is. My hair is in a ratty ass bun at the top of my head, my makeup is nonexistent, and I've cried so hard and so much over the past couple of weeks that the whites of my eyes have become a sickly pink color.
Dunno why I'm single. Clearly, I'm a catch...
“Thanks. You look pretty too.” She goes to speak, but I'm already through the kitchen doors, heading to the front to do my job.
Harper just sat my section, so I'm saved from having to try and avoid Kate. I saunter up to the table, fake smile at the ready, and set two rolls of silverware on the table.
“Morning, gentlemen. What can I get you all to drink?”
And just like that, I fall back into my everyday routine of waiting tables, smiling until my cheeks hurt, and pretending like I have my shit together. But the reality I'm hiding is dark and depressing, threatening to take me back under the surface every time I close my eyes for too long, every time I pass that damn fish tank and envision my body floating at the top, bloated and blue. Every time I swallow and taste his blood in my mouth. Every time I open my eyes and bolt up in bed, seeing the ghost of Jared's presence towering over my naked body, eyes angry, voice booming, hands reaching out to toss me out of his life.
How did things get so damn complicated? How did we go from ice cream dates and passionate lovemaking on kitchen tables to this...this boiling, festering hatred of not only one another, but ourselves?
Needing a breather between tables, I retreat to the ladies' room, hoping for a little solitude, but when I shove through the door I'm met with the sight of everyone's favorite hostess standing on a toilet, blowing smoke into the exhaust fan.
“Harper! I thought you quit.”
She looks down at me, her smile framed by a smoke ring.
“He still loves you.”
It's so out of left field, so blunt, so hurtful, that I can't help but bristle.
“Oh yeah? What gave it away? The fact that he looked like the act of saving my life made him physically ill? Or was it the half-naked woman falling out of his truck right after?” She opens her mouth to reply, but I don't let her. “You know what, it doesn't matter if he loves me or not. That just...it doesn't factor. It's completely fucking irrelevant at this point.”
She blows out a steady stream of smoke and flicks her ashes into the trash can. “Of course it matters, sweetheart.”
I rub at my pounding temples.
Why? Why now? Why is she all of a sudden a romantic who feels the need to go all Dr. Phil on my ass? I need the cantankerous, pessimistic, she-woman-man-hater I've always known her to be.
“Hate to rain on your parade, but right now, in this instance, you're wrong. It doesn't matter.” I turn on the hot water and scrub my hands a little too vigorously, needing some kind of physical distraction so I don't rip my hair out. “Love should be unconditional, therefore requiring forgiveness, and Jared's never going to forgive me because—here's a thought—maybe I don't deserve to be forgiven.”
She tilts her head to the side, inspecting my expression. “I thought you were past that. I thought you'd made peace with the fact that you made a mistake.”
I had. Trouble is...that frame of mind only made things worse. Every time his love-poisoned eyes have turned my way, the guilt of what I did—despite my intent—spears me so deep it's hard to breathe. Hard to remember why I'm fighting so hard against the inevitable.
“Maybe it's better to be persecuted for your sins instead of forgiven.”
Harper blows a steady stream of smoke toward my upturned face then shakes her head. “Horse shit.”
I jerk back in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“I said...Horse. Shit.” Her feet hit the floor as she abandons her toilet perch. “He loves you. You love him. It's pretty simple math.”
“The math doesn't matter!” I slice my hands through the air, slinging water from my fingertips. “I screwed up! I screwed up and no matter what I say or do, it doesn't matter, because he's done. With me. For good.”
Harper's dark hair swishes back and forth as she slowly shakes her head. “If love can't fix what's broken, if human connection doesn't trump everything else, then there's no hope for anyone on this godforsaken planet and we're all fucked.”
Cynical of her new level of enlightenment, I stare down at the cigarette pinched between her fingers.
“There weed in that?”
She holds it up between us, her black-painted fingernails shining under the fluorescent lights. “Don't know,” she smiles. “Is there?”
I take it. I haven't smoked since Laura's Halloween party five years ago when I vowed never to do it again, but I bring it to my lips and inhale until bitter smoke fills my lungs.
Yup. Definitely pot.
“You're a heathen,” I manage to spit out while hacking up a lung and handing the 'cigarette' back.
“No arguments here. Now get back out there and try not to kill anyone, 'kay?” Harper grins, then her eyes fall to my apron. “You gonna get that?”
I realize—belatedly, thanks to the thin veil of brain fog setting in—that my phone is ringing. When I check the screen, I cringe.
“Ugh. It's the clinic.”
Staring at the offending device, I consider letting it go to voicemail, but before I can stop her, Harper's grabbed my phone, answered the call, and thrust it into my heavy hands.
“Uh...hello?”
“Hi! Is this Merrin Takahashi?” The voice at the other end of the line is far too perky.
“It is.”
“Great! This is May from Lunessi Industries. I'm calling in regards to your appointment at our Missouri branch. Do you have a few minutes to answer some follow up questions?”
I don't, actually, since I'm on the clock, but holing up here in the bathroom for a few more minutes sounds infinitely better than going back out to the dining room and facing all that.
“Sure.”
“Awesome! Thank you so much, Miss Takahashi. Okay, so, first off, did you have any side effects from the medication you were given?”
Other than a complete lapse in judgment and common sense?
“No, Ma'am.”
“Wonderful.” She taps away on her keyboard. “And were you and your partner satisfied with the overall effectiveness of the medication?”
Absolutely not.
“Yes.”
“That's so good to hear. Now, did you experience any restlessness, depression, anxiety, or thoughts of suicide?”
“Sure didn't.”
Lie. Lie. Lie.
“That's what we like to hear!” She laughs, but it's so generic I roll my eyes. She's reading from a script, I know it. “Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to call back in a few days with a customer satisfaction survey, just so we know that our staff at the Blackjack clinic did anything and everything in their power to ensure your participation in the trial was as pleasant as possible. I also need to schedule your blood draw and final labs closer to the end of the month. Would that be okay?”
I bottle up a sigh and force it to die in my lungs. “Of course.”
“Awesome,” she drawls. “Well, that's all I need from you for now. Do you have any questions or concerns you'd like to voice before we wrap up?”
Concerns for my sanity, maybe.
Like a lightning bolt, something dawns on me and I realize I do have one question.
“Could you tell me which pill I received?”
She pauses and I hear papers rustling in the background. “Yes, I can do that. Now that the initial trial is over and you've submitted your exit exam and non-disclosure agreement, I can pull your file. Hold please.”
Too-loud elevator music blares from the speaker and I have to pull the phone away from my ear. Anxiety spikes in my chest, causing a sheen of sweat to pebble on my forehead, which is stupid. Her answer doesn't mean a thing. Besides, I know exactly which pill I was given.
“Okay, here it is,” she chirps, sounding out of breath. “Looks like you were given the placebo.”
Yup. I knew it. I knew—wait...
What?
“The placebo,” I parrot back, looking up to where Harper is staring at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. “Are—are you sure?”
She clicks a few more keys. “Yup. Right here. Merrin Takahashi. Thirty-one. Added to Control Group Two. Meaning, you did not receive the actual drug, but an innocent sugar pill instead.”
Innocent sugar pill.
There has to be some kind of mistake. What happened with Jared in the elevator...what happened in the weeks following...I've chalked it up in my head to loose inhibitions paired with a side of love drug.
“That's—” I start to say 'impossible', but, well, I'm not about to accuse this woman of lying to me. “That's great. Thank you.”
