Revenge (15 page)

The waitress came rushing over. “You can’t do that here! I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Nadia glanced up at her and grinned. “I’m sorry. I suppose I got carried away, but we were burning up a very bad memory.”

“See, I was dumped on my wedding day and…” I chimed in, but I couldn’t bear to go on with my sordid, heartbreaking tale, especially not to a complete stranger.

Her face softened, and I swallowed hard, ashamed that I’d opened my big mouth; I’d never been one for pity parties. “You don’t have to say another word,” she said. “Just save the rest of your pictures for a big, roaring bonfire in your backyard. Burn his clothes and all his stuff. That’ll teach him.” With that, she smiled and walked off.

I swirled the wine in my glass. “You should’ve seen him. He’s been working out, and he looked so hot.”

“I know. I saw him.”

“What!? When?”

“At your mother’s funeral.”

I cocked a brow. “Oh. I didn’t even know he was there.”

“Yeah, well, he kinda lingered back in the shadows. He wanted to pay his respects without upsetting you even more.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honey, you were a hot mess. None of us wanted to add to your sadness.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“We were all best friends in high school, so yeah, but I really let him have it in the parking lot. He just kept telling me how young and scared he was.”

“So he lives here now?”

“He said he moved back from Texas a few days before your mom passed. He’s a firefighter, and his job transferred him here. I bet he asked for the transfer so he could be back with his family and, uh…his friends,” she said, touching my arm. 

“I’m glad you didn’t tell me,” I said. “I’m not sure I coulda handled seeing him at my mother’s funeral.”

“Oh, while I’m thinking of it, I sketched some images for the fall line.” She handed me a sketchbook.

I studied the designs. “Wow. Bold, daring, and beyond stylish. I love them.”

She smiled. “I hoped so.”

“Any word on the loan yet?”

“Not yet, but we’ll know for sure by tomorrow or the next day.”

“We’re gonna soar, girl. I want to cater to all women—slim, tall, petite, and plus-sized.”

“Yep. Just think of us as female entrepreneurs using fashion to empower women and design a better world.”

“That should be our slogan,” I said. “I can’t wait to turn our fantastic ideas into a successful business.”

“You’re always so…motivating, and you always make me feel so smart, stylish, and business savvy. I feel like I can touch the moon.”

I winked. “You can.”

She smiled, then paused. “I have a big favor to ask.”

“What?”

“Do you think you could look after the boutique tomorrow? I’ve gotta take my mom to a last-minute doctor’s appointment two hours from here. It’s with some fancy specialist, so we don’t want her to have to reschedule.”

“Hmm. I have a big article to write, and the deadline is tomorrow night.”

“All you have to do is write your opinion about the fancy party you attended.”

“Well, I also have to detail all the fashion aspects and choose the accompany photos out of all the ones I took.”

“Can’t you do it at the shop? Just download your pics to the computer.”

“You’re right. I can do that and crop them and stuff. Don’t worry. I’ll cover for ya.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Between working my real job that paid the bills and working at the boutique, I rarely had time to myself, but I couldn’t refuse to help a friend.

“Oh, and some more inventory came in from the Hope Collection. Can you take care of it?”

I smiled. “Of course. I’m on it.”

“As always. Thank you so much. Speaking of that, we need to ship out all those online orders too. I took care of about half of them.”

“I’ll get the rest shipped out.”

“You’re a gem.” Nadia slipped a wad of cash into the black folder that held the check. “Listen, Ashly, I gotta run. Darrin’s waiting for me at home. It’s movie night, and he’s already a little peeved at me for working all those hours at the boutique last week. It took me forever to categorize that order for the Moonlight Collection.”

“You’ve been working too much and too hard, Nadia. I would’ve helped more, but I had that big assignment last week with my job.”

“I know. It’s hard doing both.”

“Well, you guys have fun and enjoy your movie. Tell Darrin I said hello.”

“I will. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for dinner, by the way. It was nice to get out for a change.”

She smiled widely. “That was the game plan.”

I grinned, and she walked away. It was eight p.m., and I dreaded going home to my lonely apartment. Most of all, I didn’t want to think about Jake. His betrayal was still too much to bear, and sulking and crying my eyes out didn’t seem like the ideal way to spend a Friday night.

I turned my phone back on to see if I’d missed any important messages. Just as I was about to turn it off again, the phone rang, and Jake’s number was on the caller ID. I sighed and answered it. “Jake, this needs to end right now. Please stop calling me.”

“Ashly! You finally answered.”

“I’m not sure why. There’s nothing left to say,” I said sternly.

“Please just hear me out,” he said, his voice deep and pleading. “Will you just have one drink with me? I’m at the White Coyote.”

“No.”

“Okay. I respect that. Actually, I deserve it. But if you change your mind, I’ll be here till midnight.”

“I’d love to meet you, but my boyfriend wouldn’t like that so much…and he really wouldn’t want me to go gallivanting around the country with you either.”

He chuckled.

“I’m glad you find my love life so amusing.”

“You haven’t seen anyone in over a year.”

I was livid. “And what makes you think that? Have you been spying on me?”

“We hang out in the same circle of friends, sweetheart. They told me.”

“Goodbye, Jake,” I said, furious and hanging up the phone.

Chapter 4

During my drive home, Jake tried calling a few more times, but I refused to pick up, growing angrier by the moment.
How dare he step back into my life? How dare he keep calling me like this!
I threw the phone on the passenger seat.

I needed to see him, though, just so I could personally tell him how pissed off I was. I needed to vent. I hadn’t done a suitable or satisfying job of that back at the lawyer’s office, and I needed closure. Watching that photo melt into nothingness at the restaurant had been a good start, but I needed more. I had never had the chance to confront him for ditching me at the altar; like the coward he was, he had just split and hopped on the first plane out of there. He didn’t even have the nerve to say goodbye or leave a number where I could reach him. He just vanished into thin air and had been gone for years. None of our so-called “circle of friends” knew where he had disappeared to, and his family refused to tell me anything. He’d helped me earn the title of a jilted bride, and I was an authority on getting dumped. 

Worst of all, my ex-boyfriend, my ex-loser, couldn’t face me after ruining our fairytale big day. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t trustworthy or dependable. Most painfully of all, he proved that he didn’t love me and probably never had. Anyone who could stomp on my heart so easily couldn’t possibly have had one of his own.

I opened the door to my house and thought about the black and white pictures I’d taken of Jake all those years ago. I’d always been a photography buff and had started snapping photos at the ripe old age of ten. I’d often fantasized about the great adventures I could have taking beautiful pictures all over the world, but as a teenager, I developed an interest in fashion, so my job now combined my two great loves.

After Jake left me, I attended Parsons Fashion School, where I took classes in fashion photography and journalism. I got a job as a fulltime fashion journalist with Blare’s Fashion, which showcased high-end fashion clothing and accessories. I knew the company would push the limits of my creativity. I covered fashion shows and events, interviewed important people in the world of fashion, wrote articles, took pictures, responded to breaking news, created stories for the Web, and performed several other tasks.

I also had many dreams of my own. After starting a new line with Nadia, I wanted to start my own magazine. I was sure I knew everything there was to know. After all, I had drowned myself in work for years, ever since that despicable loser had left me feeling empty.

Suddenly, I recalled my memory box that I stored in the basement. I rushed down the stairs and dug through piles of junk, boxes, and bags, until I found it. I quickly thumbed through the pictures and found my favorite one: him, standing naked against a black wall, covering his manhood with his hands. I’d created shadows to cover the top part of his face, giving him a mysterious and intriguing look. The black and white image was amazing, and I wondered how the same shot would look with his more mature, much more muscular body.

I stared at the picture, then looked at all the others, recalling just how happy and in love we had once been. I hadn’t looked upon those memories, those snapshots of our moments, in years. Nadia told me to burn them, but I couldn’t bear to for one reason or another. Not only were those pictures the embodiment of the beginning of my career, but they were also remnants of precious, albeit painful, memories. Jake had, after all, bought me my first Nikon camera, and I used it all the time and snapped pictures of anything and everything.

When I wasn’t shooting pictures, I used my tripod to capture so many wonderful shots of us together. I picked up the picture of Jake and me at the river, holding what appeared to be the world’s biggest bass; we had equally huge smiles on our faces. Then I looked at the pictures of us snuggled up together on a blanket in the grass, so carefree and clueless to the dark fate that loomed ahead for us. There was even a picture he took of me, smiling as I held up my finger to show off my engagement ring. It wasn’t big and fancy, but I didn’t care. Unlike my mother, I had never cared much about money. I loved Jake for who he was, and I couldn’t have cared less if that ring had been made out of tin foil and plastic gems. The one thing I wanted it to be was true, and in the end, it was just a lie.  

When Jake crashed into my life, I was a fifteen-year-old; a good girl who had never broken the rules. He was the biggest, bad boy at our school, and my mother was horrified when I started dating him. When I told her I loved him, she cried. According to my mother, he didn’t fit in at all. She saw him as a troublemaker, a poor kid who lived on the wrong side of town in the projects. She didn’t think he was good enough for me, because his father was in jail and his mother had a drug addiction. My mother begged me to end it with him so many times, but I didn’t care what she said. I loved him, in spite of his faults and his socioeconomic difficulties. Because she’d been so dead-set against us being together, I had to wonder why my mother would ask, postmortem, for us to prance around the world together. Her will made absolutely no sense. 

As I thought about that, I realized I had to see Jake, even if I wasn’t sure why. I was in a daze, not even thinking straight. I did need closure, the chance to really say goodbye, which I’d not been granted before.

I also needed to change into something sweet, sassy, and sexy, just to show him what he’d missed out on. I slipped into my dark-wash designer jeans and a black lace strapless top with beaded heels. In the lawyer’s office, my hair had been pulled back in a French braid, but this time, I was going to let it down. After curling my hair, I gave myself that smoldering, smoky-eye look that made my hazel eyes pop. I pushed my breasts up to give him a glimpse of my cleavage. I worried that I might be showing off too many curves and that maybe I should tone it down a bit, but in the end, I decided he deserved to be tortured with what he would never be able to touch again. 

Practically flooring it, I sped to the White Coyote. I took a moment to gather my nerves, then walked into the bar. Music played, and people laughed and chatted. I scanned my surroundings until my gaze fell on Jake, who was shooting pool. When he let out a laugh at his failure to sink the purple ball, it jarred my memory; I remembered that deep, delicious laugh, the one I could have spent hours listening to. I watched him lean over the pool table. His faded blue jeans clung to his perfect ass like a second skin. Huge muscles bulged through his tight T-shirt as he made the next shot and then reached for his beer bottle that sat on the rim of the pool table.

All of the sudden, as if he’d caught a whiff of me or was somehow psychically aware of my presence, he met my gaze and gave me that familiar, sexy smile. Tousled hair in disheveled waves skimmed the collar of his T-shirt as he said, “Wow. You look absolutely stunning.”

Mission accomplished,
I thought, throwing a little more sway in my walk as I approached him.

He motioned around him. “I’d introduce you, but I’m sure you know all these guys,” he said.