Page 63 of Sweet Chaos
No, I was not fucking okay. I was so far from okay, I didn’t have a word for it. “It’s all good.”
“Okay. You know what?” She looked around then lowered her voice. “Let’s just chalk it up as a mistake. I think it’s for the best that we don’t see each other anymore.”
A mistake? I’d made plenty of mistakes, but Scarlett was not one of them. Unfortunately, those words didn’t come out of my mouth because I couldn’t form a coherent sentence to save my fucking life.
Little black dots were floating in front of my eyes and I was two seconds from passing out. I planted my hand on the wall to keep me upright and loosened the collar of my shirt. Pretty sure I was dying.
“Okay.” She backed away. “Well… guess I’ll see you around then.”
She hesitated, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, her face fell in disappointment. Then she spun around and walked away, and I had no choice but to let her go because I was too busy losing my shit.
The elevator doors slid open, fucking finally, and I got the hell out of there.
When I got inside my car, I rolled down the windows and had a full-blown meltdown. A freight train was racing through my head and my heart was beating so fast I thought I was having a heart attack.
It took me twenty minutes to pull myself together.
I’d been through a lot of shit in my life and nothing like this had ever happened to me before. It made me feel weak which made me angry for not being able to keep it together.
By the time I got to my office, it was eleven in the morning and I was so fucking exhausted I felt like I’d just finished a triathlon.
Work helped, always had, so I threw myself into it and blocked out all the noise in my head. It would come as a surprise to absolutely nobody that Cruz handled the client-side of the business, while I focused on software development.
I’d always excelled at two things—math and coding. Two disciplines that required zero people skills. Straightforward. Logical. Numbers didn’t dick you around or fuck with your heart. It was my safe place where I retreated when the world got too much.
* * *
Simon Woods was still playing his pathetic games, trying to throw his weight around and blocking my plans at every turn. After I’d hired the new construction crew, things had been moving along. Then everything ground to a halt when the planning commission filed a petition, claiming that I didn’t have the proper permits to open a surf hostel. Total bullshit.
For shits and giggles, I hacked into his email account. Interesting what you can learn from people’s emails.
Oh, and would you look at that? Simon Woods was not, in fact, intending to turn The Surf Lodge into a boutique hotel. Turns out, I was a cog in his wheel. The only thing preventing him from knocking everything down and building a luxury beachfront hotel and an esplanade with fancy shops. Woods had the mayor in his back pocket as well as the members of the old boys’ club who were on the council and the planning commission.
On a lark, I’d once applied for membership to the Bellavista Country Club. Not because I golfed or wanted to hang out with any of the founding families of Costa del Rey but just to see what would happen. Shocker. My application was denied.
I was no stranger to getting my hands dirty, and even though I hated to stoop to Simon Woods’ level, The Surf Lodge was important to me. So was Costa del Rey. If Simon Woods went through with his plans, it would completely change the landscape of the town I loved. Small family-run businesses and surf shops would get pushed out to make way for Woods’ grandiose redevelopment plans.
Luckily, this was California and you couldn’t swing a Prada bag without hitting droves of activists, hippies, and environmentalists. The good citizens of Orange County had a right to know what was going on in their own backyard.
Oops. Look at that. The information got leaked. Now I just had to sit back and wait.
It didn’t take long to get people petitioning. Within days, half the town jumped on the bandwagon. God Bless America. Looks like the mayor was in a bit of a pickle.
A few days after the shit hit the proverbial fan, Simon Woods barged into my office. His brown hair was graying at the temples but other than that, he looked like the same asshole I’d met ten years ago. A rich bastard with an air of entitlement in an expensive suit, looking down his nose at me.
“To what do I owe this dubious honor?”
“I know you were behind this.”
He had no proof. I wasn’t a rookie. I’d been hacking into accounts since high school and I’d always been careful. No need to tangle with the US government. Which was one of the reasons I didn’t do it anymore. Last time I did it, I dug up dirt on John Hart to help Remy and Shane get him off their backs. Not that they ever needed to know about that. Much better to let Remy think she’d taken care of it on her own.
“Behind what? You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Don’t play dumb. You leaked that information.”
“Careful,” I warned. “You have no proof to back up your accusation. I might be a worthless punk but even in my world, that’s called slander.”
He pointed his finger at me. “You might think you’ve won the battle, but I’m going to show you what it takes to win the war.”
