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I nodded, decidedly quiet as I wore a blank expression. I was trying to read Jackson and I could tell that he was doing the same with me, his eyes suddenly flitting anxiously around my face.
“What? What are you looking at me like that for?”
“I’m not looking at you like anything,” I snorted. “Guilty conscience?”
“Oh, fuck you, man.” He laughed at the look on my face, regaining his composure. “I know you’re judging me for fucking an eighteen-year-old but you have to admit, she could’ve been a Victoria’s Secret model if she wanted.”
“Probably.”
“You know she was ridiculously fucking sexy.”
I had never thought of Gabrielle that way. I couldn’t think of her as anything besides the lanky kid who, according to my mother, was the most awkward girl at her ballet recital. That was who Gabrielle was before I left New York after college – an eleven-year-old with glasses and giraffe legs. So it made me sick to my stomach to think about her in a sexual way. But for the sake of the plan, I grinned at Jackson.
“Can’t lie. You scored with that one.” There was nothing Jackson loved more than having his ego stroked. I could actually see the satisfaction gleam in his eyes when he confirmed my approval.
“Yeah. I know I did,” he nodded with a smile, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he gazed into the distance. “I’m telling you, brother. Younger girls don’t know you from God. They haven’t been fucked right yet so anything you do will blow their minds. Seriously – get a college girl in bed, give it about fifty percent and watch her still fucking worship you. It’s awesome.”
“Really.”
“Really. The faces Gabrielle would make, man. Sometimes I pause the vid – ”
I raised my eyebrows as Jackson cut himself off. I waited for a second. “You what?”
Jackson blinked and scratched his head, suddenly scrolling aimlessly through his phone. “Fuck, what are all these voicemails?” he muttered to himself, pressing the phone to his ear as he played one. At that point, I knew whatever opportunity I had to have him finish his thought was gone.
Not that I needed him to say it. I knew exactly where that sentence was going. The son of a bitch still had the videos. He was blackmailing Lara for the murder of a girl whose sex tapes he still watched for his own pleasure.
“Goddamnit,” Jackson cursed when he finished listening to his voicemail.
“What is it?”
“Some stupid shit at the office. These guys from Japan weren’t supposed to come till tomorrow,” he muttered. “I gotta roll but good talk, man. When you get back to the city, I want to hear all about Piper. Alright?”
My jaw clenched when he threw his arm around me for a hug. But I played it off. “Yeah,” I gave him a hard pat on the back. “We’ll get drinks when I’m back, brother. We still have a lot to catch up on.”
Chapter Seven
Lara
Thank God for office emergencies. With Jackson and Caleb long gone to tend to work drama, I boarded the chartered helicopter back to the city with Sloane and Jake since Sawyer and Gia opted to stay behind along with Piper, who was off to meet family in Montauk.
Through my Ray Bans, I smiled and watched as Jake carried Sloane and her monstrous hangover across the tarmac. She had whined about a headache every time she moved but then panicked at the thought of being left with Sawyer and Gia, who were seemingly on a mission to have sex in each room of the house. So Jake volunteered to carry her to the helicopter and I watched with amusement as he tried to subdue Princess Hangover, the hilarious but insufferable alter ego that emerged whenever Sloane drank tequila.
With the sun setting, I gazed at J
ake from behind – at the way his Superman frame stretched the worn-in cotton of his faded Yale shirt. Yale. That was something sexy I hadn’t known about. Laughing, I hung back and watched him grin at my best friend from under his baseball cap, smoothly entertaining every one of her bratty complaints. Somehow, his patience was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
“The meds you gave me aren’t working, Kinsley.” Sloane was going into her high-pitched whine. Jake gave a mock frown.
“Strange. They’re supposed to kick in faster with children.”
“Oh, haaa-ha. Stop laughing at me.”
“I could be laughing with you.”
“Do you see me laughing?”
“No. Maybe I should’ve left you at the house to watch Sawyer try to talk dirty in broken Spanish.”
