Elias (New Adult Romance) (West Bend Saints Book 1) (18 page)

"What is it?" I asked.  I sat on the sofa in the front room of the bed and breakfast, my legs tucked underneath me, flipping through a novel I'd borrowed from June.

"Hey.  I need to go out for a few minutes," Elias said, looking at his cell phone.  His voice was calm, steady, but I could tell his thoughts were churning.  "I have to take care of something."

"Is it serious?" I asked.

Elias shook his head.  "Probably nothing," he said.  "I don't really know."

He was lying.  I could tell, as soon as the words came out of his mouth.  His voice sounded strained when he lied to me.

I wondered what the hell he was doing that he had to cover up where he was going.

"Okay," I said, my tone clipped.  "Will you be long?"

"No," he said, then, when he saw my expression, "It's not anything weird.  I promise.  I'm not going to hook up with a chick or something like that.  I'll text you the address in case there's an emergency.  I'll explain later.  You have that new cell phone we got, right?"

I shrugged, trying to appear more nonchalant than I felt.  "Okay, Mr. Mysterious," I said.  "You go do whatever it is you're going to do, rescue a cat in a tree or whatever.  I have the cell phone.  I've got my book here, anyway.  It's kind of nice being able to relax."

Elias kissed me on the forehead.  "I'll see you in a bit."

It wasn't more than five minutes after he'd left that I heard footsteps on the porch.  I pulled open the door before June had even knocked.  As much as I liked my book, the prospect of hanging out with June and little Stan was better than my novel.

"Where's little Stan?"

"Cade's looking after him right now," she said.  Her expression looked pained.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You haven't been online, have you?"  She held her laptop in her hand.

I groaned.  "No," I said, as she followed me inside.  "I've been on a media blackout.  Seriously, I don't want to know what it is.  Did Viper write another terrible apology song again?  Let me guess.  It's called
I want to have your baby
?"

She shook her head.  "It's not that."

"What is it, then?  You know if it's something gossipy, I'm not going to want to see it.  I haven't been paying attention to any of the crap."

Even the reporters out front seemed to have gotten bored with the lack of movement here.  After Elias and I decided we'd just hole up all week, they'd disappeared, one by one.  I'd heard one of them was still in town, but at least everyone had left the front lawn, chasing after some other person of the moment.

"Well," June said.  "You're going to see it eventually.  And it's probably better you see it now, before you get blindsided by it."

She brought up one of the gossip sites, the headline emblazoned on the screen:

"Viper Gabriel proposes to model Brenna Andrews at a Hollywood Club: River Andrews Devastated!"

I scanned through the article, my hand over her mouth.  "I'm sure it's not even true," I said.  My voice sounded soft, hesitant, not like me.

I felt dizzy.

"There's a video, River," June said.  "Of the proposal.  But maybe it's fake?  They can fake that stuff, can't they?  I mean, it's obviously not completely true- they don't have access to you, so they don't know your reaction."

She sounded like she was trying to console me.  Maybe I looked like I felt devastated.  Was I supposed to feel devastated?

I just felt numb.

"I mean, I guess if they're happy," I said, shaking my head.  "Why would he make that stupid song apologizing to me?  Ugh.  I mean, I know why.  That's typical Viper, to capitalize on something like that, the media frenzy and shit."

"Are you upset?" June asked.

I shrugged.  "They deserve each other," I said.  "Viper can have her.  If that's what they want to do, it's fine with me."

But I still felt dizzy, lightheaded.  I reached for the back of the chair, numb, and collapsed heavy into it, still staring at the screen.

"You want a cup of tea?" June asked.

I nodded.  "That would be nice.  Thank you."

I clicked around on her laptop, looking at a few more pages that outlined the "exclusive details!" of the relationship between Viper and Brenna.  They were saying it had been going on for a year.

A fucking year.

Can't believe what you fucking read in the tabloids,
I reminded myself.

June set a cup of tea down on the table.  "You doing okay?"

I nodded.  "I don't give a shit about Viper getting engaged," I said.  "Just...my sister, you know?"

What a fucking traitor.

Both of them.

And my mother...she and my sister were close.  She would have known.

"Elias seems like a good guy," she said.

I only half-listened, my mind preoccupied with thoughts about my mother.  She knew, I was sure about it.  After everything else she'd done, all the shit she'd put me through, it was the final straw.

Let my sister support her ass.

"I need to make a call," I said, preoccupied with what I needed to do.

June had a funny look on her face, but I didn't want to think about what it meant.  "Sure," she said.  "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

After she left, I did a quick search, and then dialed my accountant's number.  This was the line in the sand.  I was cutting my mother off.

The knock on the door startled me.  I had just pressed "end call" on the phone. 

When I peered through the curtain covering the window, I sighed.

"Really?"  I flung the door open, and my manager pushed her way inside.

"This little stunt of yours couldn't have been better publicity for
Small Town Love
," she said.  "I mean, the town is fucking perfection, isn't it?  The goddamned movie could have been shot here."

I hadn't met the man in the suit who stood beside her, holding a briefcase, but I knew immediately he was from the studio.  He grunted something in response, his expression pinched as he looked around the room in obvious disgust.

He was important enough to not be bothered with introductions.

"My point is, River," she said.  "You've made your dramatic exit to the countryside.  We've spun the story - you weren't running away.  The studio's official position is that you were retreating to research your role as a small town girl for the film."

"During filming?" I asked, shaking my head.  "It's unbelievable."

"Yes," she said.  "It is.  It's un-fucking-believable that someone of your caliber would do something as ridiculous as this.  I mean, you expect it from some two-bit actress who doesn't know any better.  But you're River Andrews.  You've been around the block.  You understand the ropes.  You. Don't. Fucking. Leave. In. The. Middle. Of. A. Shoot."  She punctuated each word of the last sentence, rapid-fire like a machine gun.

"I'm not going with you," I said, annoyed with the fact that she'd tracked me down here, flew all the way out here to strong-arm me into returning.  I wasn't completely irresponsible.  I'd never done anything like this before.  I knew the consequences of running away during the middle of the shoot.

I already knew I had to go back.  I just...wanted to play pretend with him a little while longer.

"River," she said.  "You're not delusional enough to think that you're going to stay here."  She studied my face for a moment.  "Christ, really?  That's it?  The guy you're shacking up with, the cripple?  His cock is that magical that your brains have suddenly leaked out your ears?"

I felt the blood pump loudly in my ears.  "He's a vet," I said, suddenly angry.  I knew I had to go back, but she was reminding me exactly why I didn't want to return to Hollywood.  "Fuck you."

She laughed.  "Just to refresh your memory," she said.  "You have a contract with the studio, which Mr. Ellis here is more than happy to refresh your knowledge about."

As if on cue, the man in the suit reached into his briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of paper.  "The day after tomorrow," he said.  "If you fail to show, you'll be in breach and the studio will not hesitate to enforce our contract.  The studio's position is that you were sent here to do more in-depth research for your role.  You did not
flee
the film set."

I crossed my arms over my chest.  "Screw you both."

"Unfortunately, River," my manager said, "You're the one who's going to be screwed if you don't show up for filming.  Don't forget, I'm well aware you don't have the financial resources to afford a huge lawsuit."

She straightened the collar on her shirt, her face screwed up in distaste as she turned to leave.  "I hope he's worth being bankrupted over."

The door closed behind them, the house enveloped in silence.

My head was spinning.  Was he worth risking everything?

He's just a fling.

You know nothing about him.

This isn't worth it.

Is it?

I slid open the screen on the cell phone and looked at Elias' last text, with the address of the bar where he'd apparently gone.

I knew what I had to do.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy," Silas said.

"Yeah, Silas, it does," I said.  "Are you fucking high or something?"  Silas had a history of godamned problems, and I knew he'd done his fair share of boozing and drugging.  It was one of the reasons he'd lost everything in college- his whole damn scholarship.  I thought that part of things was past, that he was far gone from that bullshit.

But, hell, I'd never seen him paranoid, ranting like some crazy person with fucking conspiracy theories and shit.

"I'm just saying, I got curious, is all," he said.  "It just didn't make any fucking sense he would be blasting away at the hill anymore.  That mine hasn't been used in years.  Why the hell would he go out there blasting it?"

I sighed.  "Who the hell cares, Silas?  Who knows what the asshole was doing?"  I was willing to cut Silas some slack, but this bullshit about our fucking father's death not being an accident - it was over the line.

"You going to fucking do something or just stand there and look pretty?" Silas' boss, Roger, yelled from across the room.

"The hell do you want from me, Roger?" Silas called, letting out a heavy sigh.  "I'm a bouncer, not one of your big titty bartenders."

"Christ on a cracker, cut me some fucking slack with the lip," Roger said, throwing a rag across the room.  "Just fucking wipe something down while you're standing around.  I'm short-staffed and we open in a couple hours.  Unless your brother over there's too good for that shit now, fucking a movie star and all."

I shot him a look and he turned around, laughing.  "Yeah, yeah," Roger said, picking up a bucket.  "I'll mind my own fucking business.  I've got to go get ice."

Silas turned to me.  "Look, it just doesn't make any fucking sense.  That's all I'm saying."

"And all I'm saying to you is, why the fuck is it relevant to my life?" I asked.  "I don't give a shit how he died, if he got accidentally killed by a rock landing on his head because his drunk ass thought it would be fun to blast off the side of that hill.  I don't give a shit if he died because a fucking UFO flew overhead and knocked him on the skull.  I'm glad he's dead."

"I'm sure mom is, too," Silas said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that maybe mom did something," he said.

I shrugged.  "Like whacked him on the top of the head with a rock?" I asked.  "Can you really see her doing something like that - our mother?  The same one who gets headaches at the slightest mention of something that might raise her blood pressure?  She practically has fainting spells, Silas.  She can barely handle life.  If you think she killed our father, maybe you're the one who's delusional."

"She could have," Silas said.  "Why is Old Man Easton visiting her?"

"I don't fucking know," I said.  "Why does anything in this town happen?  What, do you think the goddamned mayor killed our father now?"

Silas shook his head.  "No.  Maybe.  I don't fucking know, is the point.  I'm just saying that the way it supposedly happened doesn't make any sense.  Not when you go out and look at the scene."

"Yeah," I said.  "You're a real goddamned crime scene investigator or some shit now, huh?"

"Fuck," he said.  "I
knew
you wouldn't take it seriously."

"No, I'm not going to take it seriously, some wild hair you've got up your ass about him being murdered.  Someone could have bashed his skull in with a rock.  Hell, I
hope
it was our mother who finally got fed up and beat him to death.  I'd have some damned respect for her for once.  It would show us she's got a little backbone in there.  But he's dead.  It's all that matters."

"But don't you want to know
why
someone would be interested in him being out of the picture?"  Silas' blue eyes were wide.  I watched him, ranting about his fucking theory, half-thinking he might really be on drugs or something.

"Fuck, Silas, I'm not going to talk about this anymore," I said.  "I have to take a leak."

"Going to go grab a smoke," Silas said.

"Thought you quit that shit," I said, over my shoulder.

"Hey, gimme one of those, will you?" Silas' boss yelled across the room as he walked outside with him.

Fuck Silas and his crazy bullshit theories.  What the hell would anyone want with murdering my father?  Sure, plenty of people hated the asshole - I couldn't fucking think of a single person, other than my lunatic mother, who liked him, other than his drinking buddies at the bar.  But people who hated him would cop to it.  Covering something up implied there was something to cover up.

My father had nothing in his life worth murdering over.

On the other hand, my mother and the mayor... She
had
been cagey when I'd asked about that.

My head was spinning.  I would have to come clean with Elias about the movie.  I needed to tell him.  He would understand.  I was contractually obligated.

I would have to go back to Hollywood.

It wouldn't be that long.

It was the only reasonable thing,
I told myself as I drove to the address he'd given me.

I needed to do what was practical.

What did I really know about me and Elias, anyway?  I knew how I felt when he touched me, how he made me feel when he held me.  But that didn't tell me shit about shit, right?

It wasn't enough to make a decision about someone, was it?  Two weeks of knowing a person did not count for anything.

It didn't mean this was something.

It could just as easily be nothing. 
A fling.

The reasonable part of me said it was a fling.  By definition, it was a rebound.

Don't make life-altering decisions in the middle of stressful situations,
my therapist had advised me.

Picking someone up and deciding it was a relationship when you were on the run from your wedding...that was probably one of those things I wasn't supposed to do.

It wasn't healthy.

What Elias and I had...it wasn't real, then.

The smart thing to do would be to head back to Hollywood, alone, and do my movie.

On the other hand...Elias
could
come with me.

I could ask him to come.  I could tell him how I felt, being with him here.  I could tell him I wanted more.

I could take the risk, tell him that it was crazy, that I'd never felt like this about anyone before, that the thought of leaving here without him was just...bleak.

When I saw his Mustang in the parking lot of the bar, my heart skipped a beat.  I steeled myself, taking a deep breath.

I was going to do it.

He might completely laugh at me, say I was crazy.

I smoothed my hair on the edges, the stray pieces that kept flying out over my ears, wondering why the hell I didn't get a proper haircut while I was here instead of this hack job.  My hands trembled.

I walked down the sidewalk toward the entrance, and almost turned in, until I saw Elias talking to some guy around the corner.  They were...smoking.

Elias didn't smoke.

Or, he didn't
tell me
he smoked.

I stopped, mid-motion in a wave, and dropped my hand.  They were laughing and joking, hadn't seen me, and I stood, out of view, but within earshot, paralyzed when I heard my name and "movie star."

The guy he was with was asking about me.

"Just a fucking fling," I heard Elias say.  "A girl like that, are you kidding?  Shit's got an expiration date written all over it."

The other guy laughed.  "Yeah, man," he said, shaking his head.  "No fucking way."

I could feel the blood drain from my face, my hands suddenly cold.  I backed up a few steps, then turned and jogged back to the car, pulling away as quickly as I could before I felt tears well up in my eyes.

Just a fucking fling.

Expiration date written all over it.

I drove back to the bed and breakfast, over the speed limit, flying around the curves in the road, just trying to get as far away from there as quickly as possible.

Trying to get away from him.

I brushed the tears from my cheeks.

What the hell was wrong with me?  First Viper, and now Elias?  There had to be something about me, something fundamentally fucked.

Did you think there was something between you other than a quick roll in the hay?  Did you think you were something special?

I could hear her words in my head.

You'll always be River Gilstead, no matter how far you run.  You'll always be my daughter.  Poor white trash, spreading her legs for anyone who'll have her.

No, no, no.

I had to get the fuck out of here.

Back at the bed and breakfast, I called my travel manager, booking the next flight back to Los Angeles.  "No," I said.  "Not out of West Bend.  Out of Denver or something.  I know it's four hours away.  I'll drive.  I just want the fuck out of this town."

At the same time, I stuffed the few things I wanted to keep into my bag, leaving June a neat pile of the stuff I'd bought here.  I wasn't bringing anything with me except what was in my purse.  I didn't want any reminders of this place.

Or of Elias.

I left a note for June on the pile, thanking her for her hospitality.