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CHAPTER TEN
deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo
It takes an hour.
I thought he’d never talk to me again, but Redix dives into the pool and, in one breath, swims the length and jumps out on my side, dripping with pool water and rage.
“Is that what you’ve been doing for ten years?” He charges toward my chair. Thank God, no one’s on my side of the pool, no witnesses for our drama. “While I’ve been gone, have you been fucking him?”
Redix has every right to be mad.
So do I.
“Who I’ve been fucking for ten years is none of your goddamn business.”
“You can fuck the US Marine Corps for all I care, but not him, Cade.” With his hat and glasses off and his hair slicked back, every crease of pain across his face glares at me. “NOT. HIM.”
I deflect. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
There’s too much passion, too much pain for reason to fit between us.
“Why don’t you go dabble her, and I’m sure you’ll get over me. You have for ten years.”
“I can fuck all of LA if I want. Nothing would be worse than you fucking TJ, and you fucking know why.”
“No, I don’t know why, Redix, because you won’t tell me what happened.”
“Leave it alone, Detective.” His lips snarl. “What you know is enough.”
“What I know is Angie Conrad told TMZ that when you take her on those dates for ice cream, your favorite flavor is lemon sherbet, and you like to kiss her with it on your lips.” Yes, I know. I never fight unarmed. “Sounds familiar. Does she know why?”
His face freezes.
I can’t read him.
But I can see the tattoo on his hipbone. And I can read the outline of his package under his white Billabong shorts hanging low from beneath his Adonis belt. It flusters me, knocking me off my game for a second.
The silence between us has its own zip code.
I let it sit long enough, my thighs wanting to spread for his hard fuck while my fist wants to uppercut his perfect balls two feet from my face.
“Or what about that woman?” Nope, I’m not done. “What was her name? Jenna? The one who told E! Online that y’all have matching tattoos. Does she know the story about your other one?”
That news had knifed my heart.
I almost dropped my phone on the drugstore floor when I read it, ready to vomit with the pain. Instead, I stood in the candy aisle, quietly wiping away tears.
He still won’t answer me, so I keep firing.
“I don’t know which was my favorite. Your post announcing that you were dating Heather Moore—your Juliet and co-star—and she was wearing my fucking jean jacket from high school. How low can you go? Because five million people loved that post. And millions more loved that video of you fucking another woman in a parking lot a week later.
“Seems America loves their Romeo with his pants unzipped and his cock balls deep in random pussy.
“Or is it the security footage of you in a hotel elevator? Yep, that one’s my favorite. How you’re looking at your phone with your big cock out of your zipper while some woman is on her knees, sucking you off. The whole world thought it was hot. It only helped your career.
“You don’t need to fuck all of LA, Redix. The half of the city you’ve already fucked has you doing just fine.”
Something dances in his eyes.
