Something Reckless(29)
“Tell me what you want. I don’t like being this close to you.”
She stands carefully, dropping the cigarette to the porch floor and stomping it out with the toe of her red high heel. “I need some money.”
“Not gonna happen.” I pull my keys from my pocket, ready to go inside and lock her out. I don’t need to hear whatever sob story she has for me. I’ve fallen for her shit before, and I won’t again. Not this time.
“The last two years have been so hard on me,” she says. “I was so depressed I could hardly get out of bed most days. I used up all my savings just trying to pay my bills.”
I snort. The “savings” she’s referring to is the nest egg I set her up with when I thought she was going to have my baby. If Asia had a penny in the bank before she pissed on a stick for me, I’d be surprised. I shove the key into the lock and push open the door. “Go find another sucker.”
Her eyes flash with anger but her voice is coy again, the sweet, ever-suffering Asia. “You can’t just ignore me. Not when you’re the reason I’m so depressed.”
When she hangs her head dramatically, I look over my shoulder to see who she’s performing for and, yeah, sure enough, Mrs. O’Neil is on her front porch watching us.
“Everything okay, Sam?”
“Don’t push me away, Sam,” Asia says dramatically. She blinks a few times and produces a few tears. “Not without talking to me first.”
“Sam?” Mrs. O’Neil calls again.
“Everything’s fine,” I reply. “Do you want to talk about this in the house?” I ask Asia. It’s all I can do not to spit the words.
Asia gives me a satisfied smile—“As a matter of fact . . .”—then strolls right into my house.
I’m a pretty easygoing guy, and there’s a very short list of people who aren’t welcome in my home. Asia Franks is at the top of it. And yet here she is.
I pull the door closed behind me. “I’m not giving you any money.”
“Sure you are,” she says, sauntering into the house and surveying the open-concept space. “You’re going to give me whatever I want, because you don’t want my story ruining your happy little life.”
Her eyes scan the room, and I know what she’s looking for—anything of value, anything to prove to her that the world is unfair and some people get everything while she gets nothing. Anything to justify her blackmailing me.
I cross my arms. “You don’t have a story that anyone wants to hear.”
She sticks out her lower lip again. “Why do you hate me so much?”
Because you stole something that was mine.
“I think a lot of people will be interested in my story. Especially now that your daddy is running for governor. I understand he has some stiff competition in the primaries.”
“His son got drunk and screwed a stripper. The voters have forgiven worse.”
She sighs heavily. “What I think they’d find interesting is the part where you made me . . .” She looks me dead in the eye and blinks those fake-ass tears back into her eyes. “The part where you made me get an abortion. I would have done anything to keep my baby.”
Rage screams through me so fast and so hard that I’ve taken three long strides toward her before I force myself to stop and clench my hands at my sides. “You fucking cunt. What did I ever do to you?” Anger and hatred drip from my voice.
Her eyes go hard, and she pulls something from her pocket. When she produces a tiny recorder, I stumble back a few steps. I know exactly how our exchange will sound to anyone she shares it with. And I know she won’t hesitate to share it with anyone who can give her something she wants.
“What do you want from me?”
She closes the distance between us and runs her hands down my chest. I don’t move her hands because I’m afraid of what I might do if I let myself touch her. I’ve never hated anyone in my life as much as I hate her. I’ve never wanted to hurt a woman, but I want to hurt her. “I can’t forgive you for that, you know,” she whispers. “You made me think . . .”
That line is for the recording, no doubt. “How much?”
“Ten thousand will get me out of your hair.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I’ll come forward with my story.”
“I’ll tell them the truth.”
She trails her fingers down the buttons on my shirt, one at a time. “Obviously you’d lie to protect your father from scandal. Just like you paid me to have the abortion to protect your family from scandal.”
I grab her wrists and squeeze. “Ten thousand, and then you’re out of my life.”