The story was written up and received national attention.
Erica’s name was in the byline, so she took everyone to the Wine Cellar to celebrate the newspaper part of the story. The taped part of it was still being shopped around.
One night over drinks, Jake asked why it was taking so long. It’d been two weeks since Kian’s interview with them, and Erica explained that there was not much of a rush. He hadn’t scheduled any new interviews for them to be scooped, and they wanted to wait till more time was put between his last interview and the one with them.
She’d said, “If we hear that he’s interviewed with someone else, trust me, that tape will be bought, paid for, and released within a day. They’ll want to hear what he said in our interview.”
I’d been puzzled by that last statement, but I hadn’t asked any questions. When Jake let it go, I felt relieved. I didn’t want to know what else Kian had said. And since he’d left town, I went back to avoiding the news and even my email.
His face wasn’t everywhere as much as it had been. There was no news about a retrial, so the coverage was beginning to die down, but I knew when they sold their interview, it would cause another buzz. Erica promised there was stuff in that interview that he hadn’t shared anywhere…and again, I wasn’t asking. I didn’t want to know. Well, I did, but I was keeping a clear head on my shoulders. Not knowing was better.
No Kian meant no risk of losing my normalcy.
I liked being normal. And normal meant I couldn’t be late for work. I glanced at my phone and saw I was already five minutes late. I screamed.
“What’s the drama?” Erica appeared in my doorway.
Flying to the closet, I grabbed the first uniform shirt I saw and stuck my arms through the sleeves, yanking it over my head. My jeans were hastily pulled on. “I’m late for work.”
“Oh.” I could hear her grinning. “Not me. I’m on vacation this week.” She sighed. “It’s been wonderful.”
I gave her a two-second warning. “I’m going to be sprinting out of here, so if you’re in the doorway, I suggest you move aside.”
Erica laughed but stepped back as I barreled past her.
Keys. Purse. What else?
A phone started ringing in the apartment, but I had my phone. It wasn’t mine, and I didn’t have time to figure it out. I dashed out the door. “Have a good night getting drunk!”
“Will do!” Erica hollered after me. “Wait—”
I was already at the stairwell and hurrying down. Skipping the bus, I paid the extra money and hailed a cab.
When I got to work, I braked in the entryway.
Henry had taken my place. He saw me coming and had a smug smile for me. “You snooze, you lose.”
No customers were waiting.
“Fuck off. Where’s Paul?”
“It doesn’t matter. He appointed me here himself, and he said that you’re on silverware duty when you get in, so have fun being bored for the rest of the night.” He sang the last part, “With no tips.”
I growled. “You sound like a mosquito. You’re a pest like them, but it’s too bad I can’t step on you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You might be my nemesis this year, but who knows what will happen in a year? You still have two year of studies, whereas I have three more years to climb the ladder here. If you come back next year, I’ll be your boss.”
“Right. You’ll be Head Busboy. So threatening.”
He sniffed and looked down his nose at me. “Threaten away, Jo, but you have to admit, I have a point. If you come back as a hostess again, after graduating in a couple years, I won’t be the pathetic one.”
The pip-squeak had a point, but I took a page from Wanker’s book and flipped him the bird anyway. If only I had a pair of glasses to push up my nose, it would be the cherry on top. As it was, I just extended my arm as I walked to the bar section.
The bartender was polishing a wine glass when I tossed my bag into a cupboard and grabbed the case of silverware. Bruce gave me a weird look when I hopped up onto a barstool.
Reaching for one of his washcloths, I asked, “What? There are no customers in here. I’ll go in the back when they show up.”
“That’s not it.” He gestured toward Paul’s office. “He’s been looking for you the whole morning.”
“I’m only thirty minutes late.”
“Forty minutes late.”
I shot him a look. “Thanks for the correction.”
He winked, smirking at me, before he put the glass away and leaned both arms on the counter. Bruce was already fit since his other job was modeling for fitness magazines, but that pose made his arm muscles pop out even more, and he took on an imposing air. “I’m serious, Jo. He didn’t look pissed. He looked worried.”
“Really? I know he’s pissed about that crazy lady threatening to sue because of me, but I thought he’d gotten over that.”
“Jo!” Paul had spotted me. Standing in the hallway opening that led to his office, he jaw was clenched. He pointed behind himself. “My office. Now.”
Bruce gave me a pitying look, sliding the silverware to his side of the bar. “I’ll put these away for you.”
“Thanks.”
Sliding off the barstool, I couldn’t think about why Paul was so angry. He’d been angry about that one lady for a week, but that had faltered off at the beginning of this week.
Is it really because I was forty minutes late?
Being late wasn’t a norm for me. This was my first time being late.
When I got to his office, I refused to sit. I stood against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest.
He pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”
“I’ll stand.” This treatment because I was late one time? My teeth gritted against each other. Seriously?
“Sit.” He gentled his tone. “I’m not upset with you. I was worried.”
“What?”
He pointed to the chair again. “Please sit, Jo.”
“Fine.” Once I did, I asked, “What’s going on? Why were you worried?”
Instead of answering, he leaned back in his chair and watched his phone. So did I. Nothing happened.
“Uh, Paul—”
Then, it rang, and he grabbed it. Gripping it against his ear, he said, “Yeah. Yeah, she’s right here.” He held it out for me. “Some guy named Snark has been calling for the last twenty minutes.”
“Oh…shit.” I had no time to react. My fingers went numb as I took the phone. “Snark?”
“Where are you?”
“Uh…”
He’d called here.
He cut me off, “Never mind. Stay put. I’m coming to you.”
“Why? I mean, what happened?”
“They’re going after you. Have you not been watching the news?”
“No, I avoid the news. You know why.”
“Well, if you have a television nearby, turn it on. You don’t look like your old self, and thank goodness. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait by the back for me.”
Hanging up, I saw the television mounted in the corner of Paul’s office. “Can you turn that on for me?”
“You okay?”
I nodded.
I’d have to leave work, but I wanted to see what was going on first. Big boulders of lead lined the bottom of my stomach. They weren’t moving, just getting heavier and heavier. I knew what I was going to see, but when Paul turned on the television, I hadn’t been prepared.
I was looking back at myself, as Jordan Emory, not Jo Keen. The girl on the screen had long black hair. It was straight, no curl like what I wore now, and my cheekbones were sunk in. My face now was more filled out, but the old me still had a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones, and her eyes—I sucked in my breath. Thank God I had kept my brown contacts the entire time at the university. If anything would give me away, it would’ve been my old eyes.
When I saw my old reflection, my hand flattened against my stomach. I couldn’t make th
is go away. It had happened. Snark predicted it. They were going after me.
Paul murmured, “Gorgeous.”
“What?” I jumped, forgetting that he was there. My hand pressed even tighter. This wasn’t happening.
He lifted his remote to the television. “I always felt bad for her during the trial back then, but those eyes, though.”
“Eyes for the soul,” Edmund had whispered so many times to me.
I heard him once more. He was there again. His rank hot breath coated my face. I could feel him.
“Jo?”
“What?” My heart was trying to jump out of my chest.
Paul was frowning at me. “You’re damn near shaking like a leaf. What’s with you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And who was that guy? He said it was urgent that he got ahold of you. You in trouble or something?”
Paul didn’t know.
He didn’t recognize me either.
Until that moment, I didn’t know that there were different layers of relief. I was feeling seven different shades of them at that moment. “Um.” I grabbed my arm, and he was right. It was trembling against my body. “I don’t feel good.”
“You’re never sick, and you’ve been sick twice in the same month.” He looked at me from head to toe, lingering on my middle section. The corner of his mouth twitched up, then back down. He was fighting from grinning. “Are you going to need maternity leave in the future?”
“No!” My hand was pressing against my stomach. I ripped it away now and wiped at some sweat on my forehead. “I don’t know. I’m not pregnant, I know that, but I don’t feel good. Maybe I have a stomach bug that won’t go away.”
“You sure you’re not pregnant? I need to know if you are. You have to apply ahead of time for maternity leave.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez.” He wheeled his chair backward and held his hands in the air. “I’m just saying, Jake Monroe’s been coming to visit you on your breaks a whole lot lately. It’s okay if you are. I won’t look at you any differently.”
“Stop talking.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. I was still sweating, and my boss wasn’t making it better. “I’m leaving work. I’m sick. I’m not pregnant, though. Just sick. That’s all.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
And I was out the door when he called after me, “But when you decide you are pregnant, let me know as soon as possible. I need a heads-up for maternity leave—that is, if you’re still going to work during school.”
“Shut up!” I yelled over my shoulder.
My bag.
I needed it before going to the back door. Snark was probably there already. Bruce had my bag in the air, waiting for me, as I swept into the bar. I ducked, pulling one of the straps over my body, and he only smirked at me.
I rolled my eyes. “Not you, too.”
He kept quiet. Smart of him.
Word had traveled fast. A couple of the cooks asked about my due date, and I flipped them all the middle finger, too. Henry was coming from the back section after seating some new customers in the private room.
He bypassed me, right before I reached the back door, and he gave me the thumbs-up. “I approve, too, my nemesis. And you’re right. I won’t get promoted when you go on maternity leave.”
Violence is bad. I tried telling myself that, and then—screw it.
His back was to me, but I stuck my foot out and hit it against his ankle.
Henry stumbled and almost went down. He caught himself, grabbing ahold of the wall, but he shot me a glare. “That was mature.”
I was out the door, and it slammed shut behind me. I was grinning when Snark pulled up and waved from inside.
“Get in. We have to talk.”
Then, I remembered. My old face was plastered all over the news now.
Oh, boy.
Snark didn’t say much once I got inside.
When he didn’t take me to my apartment or to the diner, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“To see your boyfriend.”
I groaned. “Jake is not my boyfriend, and we’re not pregn—”
“Kian Maston.” He leveled me with a frown. “And I hope you’re not pregnant because you already have a nightmare on your hands. A kid would make it ten times worse.”
“Good.” Not good, I meant. “And I’m not. I’m not pregnant, that is.”
“I wasn’t saying you were.”
“I know. The guys back there—” I shut up. Snark didn’t give a damn about my work issues. “Did you say we’re going to see Kian?”
“Yep, and don’t even think about lying to me. I know you’ve seen him a few times, and you’ve been in contact over the phone.”
“It wasn’t like that, and he’s gone. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“It does matter, and he’s not gone. Your boy never checked out of the hotel when his PR and legal team checked out. And, yes, Jo, I know all about the interview he did with your roommate and the school paper.” He opened the console and pulled out a folded paper, tossing it onto my lap. “Did you actually read what your friend wrote?”
“Um…”
Erica thought I had.
“My summer hobby has been avoiding all news outlets. Why?”
“Because there’s a huge section all dedicated to you, and I’m assuming his legal team was successful with turning the investigation in your direction, not his.”
“What? How can that even be? He said he killed Edmund. That’s irrefutable.”
“Not if he was set up.” As he pulled into a parking lot, he gave me a meaningful look.
“By me? Kian and I didn’t even really know each other before Edmund. I knew of him. He was popular, but I wasn’t.” I tried to glimpse the front of the building. I assumed it was a hotel because that’s where Kian was staying, but there was no sign on the front. There was nothing that really identified what hotel it was, and I was distracted by what Snark was saying to study it any more. He drove quickly to the back of the hotel.
“Were you invited to their parties?”
“My boyfriend was. I went once because of him.”
“Did the other girls hang out with you?”
“No, they didn’t like me. They made fun of me, called me Charity Case at that party. It’s why I only went once with my boyfriend.”
“Kids can be cruel. I’m sure it’s the same nowadays.” After parking, he gestured to the door. I followed his cue and got out as he did the same. “Actually, I bet they’re worse nowadays. I’ve got a kid in school, but she’s in the sixth grade. I don’t know what I’ll do when she gets older.”
“You’re FBI. I doubt she’s going to be looked at like a charity case,” I murmured as I craned my head back to take in the entire hotel. The entire hotel was made up of dark mirrored glass.
“True.” Snark reached for the door and held it open for me.
When we got to the elevators, I asked, “Where are we?”
“Your new boyfriend’s ritzy place. The Maston.”
“Oh.” My eyebrows shot up.
I’d forgotten Kian’s family business wasn’t just in restaurants