“I can’t believe I wasn’t here with her. That I was…”

  Off having sex with Hunter Davies.

  “Sweetheart, she would never blame you, so don’t blame yourself. I talked to her a lot the last few days. She was so proud of you, so excited to see you achieve what she could only dream of. She would not want you beating yourself up because you didn’t have a crystal ball. None of us do, or else we’d all be filthy rich.”

  Hot tears run down my cheeks. I know if there were any way to fix this, Hunter would without question. He’d do anything for me, reasonable or not.

  But sometimes all the money in the world can’t buy what you need the most.

  “You can hold her hand if you’d like,” a doctor says.

  I rush to my mother’s side, placing my hand on hers. “What’s the plan?”

  The doctor jots down some numbers from the machines my mother is hooked up to, then turns to me. “First, we need to figure out what’s wrong. It’s still unclear, and I have a feeling that it has nothing to do with the new treatment.”

  I narrow my eyes at the doctor. “Are you just saying that because you’re worried about your precious trial?”

  “No, Ma’am.” A man in a business suit steps forward from the recesses of the room. “My name is Greg Carter, and I’m here from the FDA.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “LaviTech Labs makes it a point to be open and honest with all of their medical innovations. The drug your mother was placed on was technically no longer in trial, which made it significantly easier to get your mother approved for it. At the first sign that something was off, he gave me a call. The drug your mother received could change the way we treat patients, which is why I’m here. We need to know everything about why this is happening because there are a lot of people that could benefit from it.”

  As if I didn’t feel guilty enough. Having the weight of thousands of sick people on my shoulders makes me want to crawl inside a sewer.

  “Can I pull up a chair and sit with her?” I ask.

  “Actually, you being allowed inside this room is a favor to Cassius,” the doctor says. “There is no waiting area on this floor because it’s for special cases. Like your mothers.”

  “Which floor should I go to?”

  “I think it would be better if you went home,” the doctor says.

  “Home? While my mother—”

  “She’s in a medically induced coma. She can’t wake on her own, and she’s not in immediate risk of danger. The moment that changes, we’ll give you a call.”

  “But I’m not going to be able to do anything knowing she’s here all alone.”

  “She’ll be in the best care, Cassius will see to that,” Greg says. “But this isn’t going to be quick. She’ll probably be in this state for at least a week.”

  I look down at my mother and all the tubes coming out of her. “I’m so sorry, mom.”

  “I promise, she won’t be alone,” the nurse says. “I’ll take good care of her.”

  I clear my throat. “I guess I’ll go home. Please call me if there are any changes.”

  “Of course.”

  I exit the room in a daze, unsure if my legs will carry me where I need to go.

  “Ari,” Hunter says, but I can’t even look at him.

  I don’t deserve his arms holding me, his kind words, or his shoulder to cry into. Not after I told my mother to sign on for a new treatment without so much as attending a doctor’s visit with her.

  Now, she’s going to spend her final days being poked and prodded without her family here to comfort her.

  I walk past Hunter and Cassius to the elevator at the end of the hall.

  I’m done with Davies Corporation. I’m done with Hunter. I’m done with school. I’m done with whatever money he transferred into my account.

  I don’t deserve any of it.

  I’ll work the lunch shift at the diner down the street that’s always hiring, and I’ll do entry-level coding jobs at night. I’ll make my life work without any of the comforts Hunter afforded me, and I’ll do it alone.

  Because now I know the price of happiness is not worth the cost.

  Arinessa

  It only took three days to destroy my nicely manicured nails. Between hand washing dishes, nail biting, and typing, they didn’t stand a chance.

  Disenrolling from college was bittersweet, but it had to be done. Luckily, I’ve been able to snag a few freelance jobs formatting manuscripts. They only pay twenty-five-dollars a script, but it takes me less than an hour to complete the work, so it’s a good use of my time.

  Looking over my bills, I know I’m going to need a roommate soon. Even though the apartment is only one bedroom, it shouldn’t be too hard to find someone. I just hope they aren’t obnoxious.

  The microwave dings, and I grab my pizza rolls and settle into the couch, turning the television on to Hope and Frustration. The movie is twenty-eight years old, but it stars Ernestine Whitmore. A woman I’ve come to adore.

  Every scene she’s in captivates me, from when she’s running in the rain, to her romantic embrace with Chet Inglewood, her co-star.

  Hunter hasn’t contacted me since I left the hospital. I’m sure he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to make up some lame excuse for sending me back home. I want to believe what we had was something special, but to him, I was just one of…I can only assume a lot.

  To me, he was everything.

  His money still sits in my bank account, but I’ve put in a request to have the transaction reversed. If only I could reverse the entire week, but there are no take-backs. It’s one thing to have no idea what you’re missing out on; it’s another to know and crave it with every cell in your body.

  My life is now torture.

  A knock sounds on the door, and I drop a pizza roll on my twice-worn shirt.

  Fuck! I hadn’t wanted to change today. I blot the sauce stain with a napkin, but it’s a battle I’m not going to win.

  The knock sounds again, this time harder.

  Part of me wants to hide and not face whoever has decided to pay me a visit.

  But the very real possibility exists that it is the police at my door, telling me my mother has passed.

  Each day the nurse calls, giving me updates on my mother’s condition. She’s never better, never worse. The doctors don’t want to wake her prematurely, but she can’t go on as she is forever.

  The knock comes again when I’m just a foot away.

  “Hold your horses, will ya!” I shout.

  I open the door to a flamboyant pixie of a woman holding several bags.

  “Neon—Sam? Sorry.”

  “Oh, no worries! I love my new moniker. Hunter has taken to calling me it.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, unsure of what it is I’m feeling.

  “Is that really how you greet guests? Can’t you see my arms are full?”

  Neon rushes past me without being invited in. I stand, gawking at her, wondering how she knows my address and what it is she’s carrying.

  She drops the bags on the couch and looks around the room, scrunching her nose. “Wow…not what I expected from Hunter’s girlfriend.”

  “Not girlfriend. Not anymore,” I say morosely. “Why are you here?”

  “Hunter wanted to make sure you got your things. There’s like a ba-zillion bags downstairs. Help me bring them up.”

  “No! I don’t want them.”

  “I understand. Breakups are hard. But let’s just get it all up here, so nothing is stolen.”

  I sigh, as though her presence exhausts me. “Fine.”

  It takes an hour for us to haul up the hundreds of bags Hunter sent with Neon.

  “I can’t believe he didn’t just hire movers,” Neon says, plopping down on the couch.

  “You should have just hauled it all to Goodwill.”

  “Ummm…these goods would make it to my apartment long before they made it to Goodwill.”

  “You’re free to take them with you when you go,” I say, staring brazenly at her, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave.

  Her eyes hone in on the paused movie I’m watching. “Oh, isn’t this one of Ernestine’s old films?”

  “Yeah, it’s available on most streaming services, if you’re interested.”

  “Hit play! I want to see what she was like.”

  I exhale loudly, but she doesn’t seem to sense my annoyance.

  “You know, I have a lot of stuff to do.” To emphasize how busy I am, I start throwing away old pizza boxes and paper plates.

  Neon gives me a quizzical look. “But you were watching a movie?”

  “Look, I’ve had a bad couple of days, and I need some time alone.”

  “Whenever I have a bad day, I like to binge-watch TV and eat Chunky Monkey ice cream.”

  “My mother is dying.”

  Neon’s mouth falls open. “Shit, Hunter never told me that.”

  “I was with Hunter when she needed me most.”

  Neon’s face softens, but she doesn’t budge.

  “I have to drop out of college. I have six figures’ worth of debt and nothing to show for it. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to afford this apartment.”

  Neon still doesn’t move.

  “Haven’t I depressed you enough?” I gesture wildly in the air. “Why aren’t you gone yet?”

  She looks up slowly, locking gazes with me. “Because you need me.”

  “Huh?”

  “Look, Hunter paid me well to haul all your shit over here, so I might as well make a day of it. Let’s grab some ice cream, watch TV, and shoot the shit.”

  “But you barely know me, and I have nothing to offer you.”

  “A girl from a shit hole like this, who manages to bag Hunter Davies, dumps him, only to go back to said shit hole has got to be interesting.”

  “I didn’t dump him,” I say truthfully.

  “Well, he certainly didn’t dump you. I’ve never seen him so upset before.”

  I arc a brow. “Really?”

  “Girl, he’s a mess.” She rises from the couch. “Now, let’s go get some ice cream.”

  “I have chocolate in the freezer. Wanna order pizza?”

  “From Marios! Deep dish.”

  We order pizza, and I settle in on the couch next to Neon.

  It’s not often that I have guests over, and by not often, I mean never.

  I try not to mull on Hunter being upset with my absence. It could very well be because I couldn’t find his aunt.

  Of course, I feel terrible that I abandoned the search for Lucy, but I know I wouldn’t have found her anyway.

  Neon gives me an awkward look. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Ummm…sure.”

  “Was Hunter your first?”

  My head snaps in her direction.

  “Sorry. You just seem so innocent.”

  It’s not often I confide in someone, but some good old fashion therapy might be what I need right now.

  “When I was fifteen, I got charged with a federal crime. I basically hacked a bunch of shit in order to gain evidence on some rather vile human beings. I got off with a slap on the wrist, but I was kicked out of my private school and basically put on probation. Let’s just say my teenage years were not typical.”

  “Wow…that’s…impressive.”

  “But to answer your question: yes, Hunter was my first. And I fell for him. Hard.”

  “I don’t blame you. If I wasn’t so gay, I’d probably go after him.”

  I blink half a dozen times, trying to register what she just said. “You’re gay?”

  “A little.”

  “But Hunter told me—”

  “About being in his bed? At the time, I was playing the field more. Figuring myself out. I have a girlfriend now, but probably not for long.”

  “Oh, congratulations.”

  “Let’s watch Ernestine in action!” Neon enthuses.

  I hit play. “Fine, but I’m not starting over.”

  Several minutes pass as Neon looks on, wide-eyed at her client on the screen.

  “They don’t make ’em like they used to,” I say after an emotional scene.

  “You can say that again. I guess the only modern actress that could compete is Ali Kat Carter. No wonder Rand was so obsessed.”

  “Is so obsessed,” I reply.

  The movie draws to a close, the heroine finally taking control of her life and buying her freedom. Midway through the scene, as she’s signing a check, I hit pause.

  “Do you really need a bathroom break during the very last scene?” Neon snaps.

  “Just give me a minute.”

  I replay the scene, thinking back to the many conversations I’ve had with Hunter. She bends to sign the check again, and I think about the file labeled: Rand.

  A knock sounds on the door.

  Neon jumps up from her seat. “The pizza’s finally here!”

  I continue staring at the screen.

  The pizza box lands with a smack on the coffee table, and Neon wastes no time throwing the lid back and grabbing a slice.

  My mind continues to work in circles, trying to piece together a puzzle with new pieces.

  This isn’t your problem anymore. Move on. Your life is in shambles.

  “So, what now?” Neon says. “Another one of her movies?”

  Let sleeping dogs lie.

  “Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you think you could teach me how to better handle my hair and makeup?”

  Neon smiles. “That’s what I like to hear! Moving up and moving on! Though…I’m not entirely sure if you can move up from Hunter—shit! I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “It’s fine,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

  Neon grabs my hair. “We’re going to have to start with this.”

  Hunter

  “Whoever is behind this knows how to move around the internet unseen,” Gabriel Icor says. “The emails could have come from Peru, or even inside the building.”

  I tap my fingers nervously on my desk, unable to relieve my frustration. As much as I wanted to be done with this mystery, it disallows me from sleeping at night.

  “I could run this by Dallanger, but to be honest, I don’t think he’ll be able to pinpoint the origins either.”

  “No, there’s no point. There isn’t a person on the planet that can do more than what’s been done. Thank you for your assistance.”

  Gabriel doesn’t move, either not getting the hint or not caring.

  “If you ever need anything, feel free to give me a call,” I say, hoping that drives the point home.

  “May I offer some advice?”

  I suck in a breath, trying to remember my decorum. I want nothing more than to show him the door, but I’m the one that asked him for a favor, and it would be grossly inappropriate for me to be rude.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Talk to your father.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “You don’t trust him, do you?”

  I cast Gabriel a glare that tells him it’s none of his business.

  “Look, I’m not saying he’s a bad guy, but we both know parents will go to extreme lengths to protect their children. You need to warn him if he has something to hide.”

  “My father is careful out of fear, not guilt. He had nothing to do with my aunt’s death, of that, I promise you.”

  “I believe you. I’m actually jealous of your relationship with him. He seems like a good guy who loves his family. Mine was an absolute dog.”

  Guilt needles me, and I rethink being so defensive. Gabriel’s father was notorious for his skirt-chasing ways, and it’s said he left his son a mess when he passed.

  “Every family has its skeletons, as does mine. It’s just that I’m pretty sure kidnapping and murder isn’t a part of my family’s history.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I chuckle dryly.

  Gabriel cocks a brow. “May I ask what is so funny?”

  “Well, that was a lie. As of late, I’ve taken to kidnapping, though it was entirely accidental.”

  “You accidentally kidnapped someone?”

  “There was a woman helping me find my aunt. When I hired her, I had a team of mercs go in to get her and bring her to me.”

  “Now that’s a skeleton…”

  “They dragged her into my family’s estate with handcuffs and a bag over her head.”

  “That must have made for an awkward work environment.”

  “Once things settled, we worked well together. I let my mother think she was my girlfriend and she just about fell in love with her.”

  “You know, our mothers are a lot alike. Mine was over the moon when I introduced her to Remi.”

  “I’m such an asshole. My mother has been campaigning for me to settle down and provide her with grandkids for the last three years, and I led her to believe I’d found the one. It broke her heart when my fake relationship ran its course.”

  “Ironically, I too was in a fake relationship, but I did a direct transition to Remi, so there was no broken heart. Just a lot of confusion.”

  “Don’t tell my mom that,” I say, pointing an authoritative finger at him. “The last thing I need is comparisons.”

  “What my mother wouldn’t give to rub it in your mother’s face.”

  “What the hell happened between them?” I sit back in my chair and run my fingers through my hair. “They literally have a legendary rivalry, but why?”

  “After the movie Belles of Boston, they were constantly compared to one another, and it more or less led to a turf war,” Gabriel says.

  I chuckle. “My mother in a turf war?”

  “Scarlet Primrose versus Ernestine Whitmore. Their legendary catfights landed more tabloid covers than almost anything in modern times. Both went on to marry tech giants, have dashingly handsome sons, and eventually leave Hollywood.”

  “Sons who have both engaged in fake relationships and workplace romances.”

  His mouth upticks into a smile. “So you and that girl—”

 

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