Page 72 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
The first was from Chloe from three days prior. “Just wanted to let you know I got home in one piece. Hope you’re okay, too. Dude, that was intense.” She paused, and I could picture her chewing her lip. “Um . . . so . . . how long do you think I should wait before calling Officer Cox?” She giggled. “I think I need to report a woman dying of being sex starved.” She hung up after promising to send her crew over to clean up what remained of the trampled flowers in my yard.
Three days ago felt like another lifetime.
The next call was from the coordinator for the Reem Acra shoot, saying she’d emailed me the final itinerary and inviting me to a cocktail reception, which happened to be in just a few hours’ time. I quickly texted her to confirm, then went back to voicemail.
The third call came in at two thirty in the morning. At first, no one said anything. Rock music pounded in the background, blaringly loud. Then, in a thick voice, Nico spoke.
“Gave you eighteen hours. Now ask me why.”
My heart jumped into my throat. The music played a moment longer, then the call cut off. Another call came in the next day at almost 4:00 a.m. More loud music. Another pause. Then Nico’s voice again, even rougher this time.
“Goddamn it, Kat.” He hung up.
On his final call, Nico didn’t say anything. It sounded as if a party had been raging wherever he was for days. All I heard was music, the sound of his ragged breathing, and, making my heart clench, a woman’s faint laughter in the background, before the call dropped and I was left clutching the phone to my ear, shaking.
Maybe Nico was taking a ride on the Village Bicycle after all.
The phone in my hand rang. I jerked so sharply I dropped it. I put my hand over my thundering heart, took a few breaths, and leaned down to pick it up. Seeing the number on the readout, I made the decision to press Send before I was even conscious of it.
“Nico.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, “you picked up.”
He sounded terrible. Actually, he sounded incredibly relieved, but also pissed off, strung out, and a little drunk.
“I had my phone turned off.” Why was I explaining that to him? What was I hoping for here, something that would make sense? Something that wouldn’t make me want to jump off my hotel room balcony? I should have learned my lesson by now.
“Runnin’ away again. Always fuckin’ runnin’ away from me, Kat. And always comparin’ me to some other dickhead that broke your heart. Even your dad.”
Blood rushed to my face. My ears were scalding. “I’m going to hang up now.”
“Yeah? Well before you do, ask me why.”
I was shaking in anger, in hurt, in confusion. “I already told you, why doesn’t matter. You made your choice perfectly clear. It is what it is.”
His laugh was disturbing on many levels. “Don’t kid yourself, baby. Why’s the only thing that ever matters. Now ask me.”
I stood and began to pace. “How long have you been up?”
“A while. Where are you?”
I didn’t answer.
“’Cause I know you’re not at home. Know you haven’t been there in days. So where are you, Kat?”
He’d been by my house, more than once, looking for me. Why? He wanted to have his cake and eat it, too? “I’m working.”
“Where?” His question was clipped and demanding.
“What difference does it make? You already told me everything I needed to know—”
“Not everything,” he interrupted, his voice turning hard. “You left before you heard it all. Because you didn’t want to hear it all.”
My anger was growing, along with my impatience. Now this was my fault? “Okay, Nico. You win. I’ll play your little game: Why?”
There was a long, deafening silence, then a ragged sigh. “I can’t talk about this over the phone.”
Fighting back tears, I looked out at the ocean. “You know what?” I whispered, shaking my head. “I think I’m all checkmated out.”
