Page 12 of One Mistake

“Check the chart. What’s mutual masturbation get him?” Jameson reached for the scorebook we’d been keeping. He flipped to the page in the back where we’d written the rubric. “No points unless he can…” He slammed the book shut and Finn smacked the computer closed. The basement was off limits to anyone but the three of us and Keaton, so if it wasn’t Keats, somebody was going to take an ass whopping. Of course, if it was Keaton—we hadn’t really clued him on our video enterprise yet—the night might’ve still ended up with a fight.

“What are you guys doing?” Of course, it was Keaton.

Finn drummed his fingers on top of the laptop. “Nothing. Just hanging.”

Keaton, probably the smartest of all of us, nodded. “I don’t want to know about it.” But he leaned against the wall, halfway to the door, which meant he wanted to know about it. He just didn’t want to ask. And I wasn’t about to tell. Keaton was too buttoned-up, too straight line to understand this year’s pledge week festivities. Not that he was too buttoned up on camera. In front of the lens—whether he knew it or not, and he didn’t—he sent buttons flying with regularity.

“What are you guys really doing?”

I chuckled. “Making sex videos.” Nothing truthier than the truth would get him over himself.

“The three of you? Who’s the lollipop?” Extra emphasis on the p’s.

I stood and put my body between him and the computer. I needed to get him out of this room and put his mind on anything else. I ran through a list of names…women I could hook him up with who could distract him until the end of the week anyway.

I walked close enough I could throw an arm around his shoulders and lead him to the steps. “Do you know Beth?” I told him all about her—journalism major, gorgeous, a Sigma full of school spirit and intelligence to match her beauty. It didn’t take a genius to know Keaton was tired of sorority girls and sports groupies, but Beth was extraordinary. He wanted more than a one-night stand. And I wanted him out of the way. I could pass a number along. What could it hurt?

5

Reese

Yet another day passed, and I still had no plan. No idea how to set Ryder free and not end up in jail. I’d had him locked in the basement for four days now, and I wasn’t any closer to figuring out what to do with him. Honestly, I wanted to do plenty of things with him. But as his captor, it would’ve felt cheap and sleazy, although he had flirted yesterday and that kiss—even though it was nowhere near my lips—felt intimate and personal, made me want…him. All of him. Again. Like the pathetic fool I was.

Avery handed me a glass of wine and we sat at the table. Mom’s bills were spread out in front of us, sorted—by Avery—into neat piles according to how past due they were. She took her seat and picked up the pencil to finish the tally.

After a minute, she dropped the pencil and sighed.

“How bad is it?”

By the speed at which she finished her glass and poured another, I didn’t need a number to know it was going to take everything I had plus more.

“Bad.” She turned the pad around and my heart stopped. “Seriously? That’s…oh my God.” The mountain of debt was…Everest. My cash reserve was…a knoll.

Avery sighed. “There was no life insurance?”

Life insurance? That was a funny thought. Probably not something Mom ever considered either. “She was a spiritual advisor who didn’t believe in doctors or western medicine.” I’d had to take money out of my retirement fund to pay for the funeral.

Avery’s lips twitched and she tilted her head from one side to the other a few times. Her tell for when she wanted to say something and didn’t know how.

“What?”

“Just an idea.” She rubbed her hands together and sat back in the chair. “You can’t yell at me, okay?” I nodded because she wouldn’t finish until I agreed. Besides, she was here helping me. Any suggestion was worth considering. Especially since it came from friendship. “You should ransom Ryder.”

From Insanity. “Are you out of your freaking mind?” She poured another glass of wine and sucked it down while I formulated how to continue without cursing and telling her how absolutely crazy she was. “I’m a cop, Avery. I’m sure ransoming a hostage goes against one or two rules in the handbook.”

“But kidnapping is on the approved crimes list?”

Touche. “I can’t ransom him.” Mrs. Kennedy would have me strung up by my thumbnails and probably publicly flogged. “I wouldn’t even know how.” And it wasn’t like there was a how-to YouTube video I could consult. “I can’t.” But I probably could. And it would solve two problems at once. The money. And what to do with Ryder. Of course, while I was locked up for twenty to life, still owning the only home Mom and I had would mean very little.

“Then you’re going to lose the house.” She picked up the most recent letter from the bank, read a few lines, then tossed it back onto the table. “In five days.”

“Think I can sell it in five days?” Even I wasn’t naïve enough to think that would work. Or that I could even get it cleaned up enough to sell. In a month.

“Oh yeah. And when you put the ad on Zillow, don’t forget to list the basement to dungeon upgrade, the hostage in the basement, and the new rigging that allows for easy captivity.” On a normal day, I appreciated her dry humor. Today was not a normal day. “Before you sell the house though, you should…” She wiggled her eyebrows and used her head to motion toward the basement door.

“I should what?” There was no way she was suggesting that I sleep with Ryder. Not that I hadn’t thought about it. A couple times. Or more. But he was my…gulp…hostage. And even though, until today, he’d stopped being a pain in my ass and accepted his stay here, I couldn’t…do that. “Don’t be ridiculous. The harness would get in the way of the condom.” It wouldn’t.

She crossed her arms and smug-smiled. “So you’ve thought about it.”