Down to You (22 page)

Nash leans back and looks at me. “Am I what
you want?”

I don’t know what to say to that. Should I
admit that I do? Am I even sure that I still feel that way?

Cash drifts through my mind.

As if sensing the direction my thoughts have
taken, Nash asks, “What about my brother? I thought… I mean, I know
he spent the weekend in Salt Springs.”

I’d forgotten that Cash had to get directions
from Nash. If possible, I’m even more humiliated. No doubt he
thinks I’m a huge whore now.

Before I can respond, Nash continues. “Or was
I there, too?” He brushes his lips over mine. “Did you think of my
lips when he kissed you?” Light as a feather, he runs his hand down
the outside of my thigh and back up again, squeezing my hip. “Did
you wish it was me touching you? Like I did the night I came to
your room?”

I gasp in shock.

Ohmigod! It was Nash!

I start to lean back and speak, but his lips
take mine, quickly coaxing them apart. Sensation drowns out thought
as I feel him breathe into my mouth. “Do you still want me? Because
if you do, I’m all yours.” With that, he deepens the kiss, his
tongue licking along mine, his free hand roaming across my waist
and stomach. Chills spread over me. His touch is so much like
Cash’s.

Cash…

I push against Nash’s chest. He moves back
easily, giving me no resistance.

He looks down into my eyes. Neither of us
says a word.

He nods and his lips curve into a smile of
acceptance rather than humor.

“Good night, Olivia.”

He doesn’t move right away. He just watches
me.

Eventually, I nod and slide off his lap,
coming to my feet. I walk him to the door and he pulls it open. He
turns as if to say something else, but changes his mind. I watch as
he disappears into the darkness, not once looking back at me.

********

It’s no wonder I get virtually no sleep.
Between finding out that I’ve slept with Nash, feeling worse and
worse about making a complete and utter fool of myself with him
last night and the predicament I now find myself in, I blow off my
Monday classes and head to Cash’s instead. I’m not sure why I feel
the need to go to him; maybe it’s a sense that I’ve somehow
betrayed him. I don’t know. But I find myself drawn to him for some
reason. And I don’t question it. I just go.

I know he’s at least awake, because I saw my
car parked at the curb when I looked out the window this morning.
My keys were in an envelope in the mailbox.

The first time I came to Dual during the day,
Cash was expecting me, so the front door was unlocked. I wondered
if that was the case all the time.

Evidently not,
I think as I pull on
both doors to find them both secured. And I didn’t get a key with
my employment because Cash always opens and closes. I mean, why
wouldn’t he? He lives behind the bar for Pete’s sake.

I walk around the side of the building. I’m
pretty sure there is at least a back door, some way to take out
garbage and for Cash to get in and out from wherever he parks that
motorcycle of his.

One side of the building has no door, so I
continue on around. As I suspected, there is a door at the back. It
empties out into the alley where there is a huge trash dumpster
against the opposite wall. Unfortunately, the back door is locked,
too.

I keep walking, around to the other side of
the building, hoping for another door. And I hit pay dirt. There’s
a side door. A big one.

It looks like Cash has converted a back
corner of the club into an apartment and garage. I can tell by the
nature of the wide, roll-up bay-type door. That and the fact that
it’s open and his bike is parked inside. That’s kind of a dead
giveaway.

I’m a little confused, however, when I see
Nash’s car parked inside as well. Or at least it’s a vehicle that
looks
like Nash’s car.

My stomach twists into a nervous knot. I know
they’re not exactly close, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t
discuss me. I mean, they very much have me in common! Even more so
after recent events.

I feel a little nauseous. I’m debating
scampering back to my car when the interior door opens and Cash
walks out. He doesn’t see me as he turns immediately to lock the
door behind him. He’s also on the phone, which he tucks against his
shoulder as he sets the deadbolt.

I can’t help but overhear his end of the
conversation.

“Marissa, I told you I had meetings all
weekend. There was just no way for me to do that. I didn’t
have—”

He stops dead when he turns and sees me
standing at the edge of the door. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open
and I probably look every bit as confused as I feel.

One question is running on a loop through my
mind.
Why is Cash talking to Marissa that way? Why is Cash
talking to Marissa that way?

We stare at each other for the longest minute
of my entire life. It is so quiet in the garage, I can actually
hear Marissa repeating
Nash’s
name over and over and over
again.

Finally, without taking his eyes off mine, he
addresses her. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.” And he hangs
up.

He studies me for so long I begin to think
he’s not going to say anything to me at all. But then he does.

“Why don’t you come in? We need to talk.”

My heart is thudding against my ribs. Hard! I
was expecting any number of logical explanations. Maybe he was
playing a prank. Maybe he was covering something up for Nash. Maybe
I just misunderstood something. But the way Cash is watching me
makes me think something is very, very wrong. And that I’m not
going to like it.

I think of leaving. Of just walking right
back to my car. These boys have been trouble for me from day one.
If I was smart, I’d turn around and never look back.

But I know why I can’t. Even as the thought
runs through my head, the thought of never seeing Cash again cuts
through my chest like a knife blade. I feel the pain of it, the
devastation of it. The life-changing wound of it. I feel everything
but the blood, the blood that should be soaking my clothes.

I nod once and walk slowly, numbly across the
polished floor to where he’s holding the now-open door for me.

I feel like I’m going to an execution.

Of my heart and my trust maybe.

And that’s pretty much right.

CHAPTER THIRTY- Cash

My pulse is racing. Just the thought of
coming clean, of telling any one person all my secrets scares the
shit out of me. I’m not sure why I’m going to tell Olivia. I just
know that I am. That I have to. I have to trust her if I ever
expect her to trust me. The thing is, I still haven’t figured out
why that matters so much to me. Why I even care.

But I do. A whole hell of a lot.

She knows something’s up. She looks like
she’s walking the plank and there are sharks in the water. I guess,
in a way, there are. If one could consider me and my family’s
history sharks.

I don’t even really see the mess I left in my
apartment last night. When I got back from Olivia’s I shed my suit
and left it crumpled in the floor right before I re-dressed as
myself and went out to close up the club. Afterward, I’d fallen
onto the bed, face first, and slept like the dead. Until Jake had
come pounding at my door this morning, ready to deliver Olivia’s
car. This double life thing is for the birds!

And now here I am, getting ready to tell
someone, a girl who I haven’t known very long at all, my deepest,
darkest, dirtiest, most dangerous secret. And the only thing I’m
worried about is whether or not she’ll ever want to see me again.
How’s that for crazy?

“Do you want something to drink? I just
turned the coffee pot off, so it’s still hot.”

She’s looking around in a daze, no doubt
trying to fit the pieces into the puzzle. But she won’t. Never in a
thousand years would she ever guess. Unless I tell her.

“Olivia, have a seat on the couch. I’ll bring
you some coffee. Then we’ll talk.”

I think she needs it more than I do, which is
saying a lot. I pour us both a mug of coffee and run some hot water
in the empty decanter, setting it back on the warmer until I can
wash it out later. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.
Some housekeeping things just come naturally at this point.

I hand her a cup and sit in the chair
opposite her. I don’t want to crowd her and make what I’m about to
say any worse. She’ll probably need a little space, a little
distance after she hears it.

It surprises me when she speaks first. I
don’t know why it would, though. Her backbone is obviously pretty
sturdy. She just doesn’t always tap into it. But when she needs to,
it’s there.

Like now.

“I don’t like games. I don’t like lies. Just
tell me what’s going on. The truth.”

Her face is set. She’s braced herself. I
guess if ever there’s a good time to drop a bomb like this, now’s
probably it.

“All I ask is that you give me a chance to
fully explain. Don’t go running off without hearing the whole
story. Deal?”

She doesn’t agree immediately, which makes me
a little nervous. But when she does, I know she means it.

“Deal.”

I wonder for a second whether or not I should
tell her that repeating what she’s about to hear would be
disastrous, but I decide against it. That’s like implying right off
the bat that I don’t trust her, which I do. It’s just that I’ve
never trusted anybody—
anybody—
with this before. I’m sure
it’s natural to be a little leery.

“I’m Cash.”

Olivia just stares at me for a few seconds. I
can only imagine how her mind must be spinning.

“I know that,” she says calmly. “But I want
to know why were you acting like Nash?”

“Because I’m Nash, too.”

Her blank look says I just totally confused
her, totally boggled her mind.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I know she will never be able to fully fathom
what’s going on unless I explain it to her from the beginning.

Here goes.

“My father got mixed up with some
pretty…unsavory people when he was younger, trying to make some
extra money to help support his family. They were very poor. But
this was all before he met my mother.” I laugh bitterly. “Turns out
once you’re connected with people like that, you can never truly
escape. I think, on some level, he knew that. But he tried anyway.
And when he did, they decided to impress upon him what a bad idea
it was to try and leave. These people make their points in
truly…unforgettable ways. This time it was to tamper with Dad’s
boat.”

Olivia is watching me closely, listening. I
have no idea if she believes a word I’m saying, but I’m not
stopping now. I’m going to tell her the whole story. Right now. No
more secrets.

“We were going on a family vacation. Over
Christmas break. Just a short trip, really. My mother and brother
had gone down a little early to take some supplies. No one thought
they’d be on the boat that soon. There was an explosion. They were
both killed. And burned up in the fire. ”

Her face shows no sign of any kind of
reaction for at least two full minutes. I don’t say a word as she
digests what I’ve told her so far. I can tell the instant it sinks
in. Every bit of color drains from her face.

“Was your brother a twin? Was he really named
Nash?”

“Yes.”

I hear her exhale. The breath is shaky, as
are her hands where she’s picking at her fingernails.

“So there was a Nash, but I’ve never met
him,” she states calmly. Maybe a little too calmly.

“Correct.”

“So all this time, you’ve been pretending to
be your brother.”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“The people my father was involved with had
set up several things that would cast suspicion on him. They called
him with a warning right before they blew up the boat. Told him if
he ever tried to rat them out, they’d kill everyone he ever knew or
loved. At the time, they didn’t realize Mom and Nash were on the
boat.

“We tried to get in touch with my mother, but
couldn’t. By the time we got there, the boat was already in pieces
all over the bay. Not only did we both have to deal with the murder
of Mom and Nash, but we both knew he’d go to prison, at the very
least for something like negligent homicide. And it would only add
to the sentence if there were two deaths pinned on him. That’s when
I decided to be both of us. If Nash had survived, Dad would only be
supposedly guilty of one murder. There wasn’t much else I could do,
but I thought I could pull that much off. And I did. I guess in a
way we were lucky that only a few of my mother’s remains survived
the fire.”

“And this was how long ago?”

“Seven years ago. December of my senior year
of high school.”

She looks suspicious. Incredulous, too, but
mostly suspicious.

“And no one was the wiser? How is that even
possible?”

I know my laugh is bitter. She’ll enjoy this
part.

“You were right about me. I was always the
bad boy, the rebel. I dropped out of high school after my junior
year. I wanted to run this club that my father just bought and I
knew I didn’t need a diploma for that.”

She raises her eyebrows. “This club?”

I nod.

“Nash was always the clean-cut, jock, honor
student type. He was going places and everybody in the family knew
it. Hell, everybody that knew
him
knew it. They would never
have suspected for one second that it was me coming to class in his
place. Me making the grades. Me picking up his diploma. Me going
off to college. No one expected much of anything from me. Well,
nothing but a life of quasi-crime, like my father. All I had to do
was show up at a party occasionally and show my ass so people
wouldn’t forget that I was alive, too, then the focus would go back
to Nash. It was easy. People wanted to forget me.”