Bona Fide (Illusive Duet Book 2) Page 6

The bartender slides over my drink. "Unless I've been hallucinating for the last few weeks. I’ve seen her multiple times."

  "Dude, why the hell haven't you told me?"

  Hovering my glass over my lips, I take a drink before answering. "You've been busy with that one case involving the sisters."

  "Doesn't matter." He turns his body to face mine. "This is serious."

  "No shit."

  "Wade." His tone changes from incredulous to serious, grabbing my attention that he wants. "This is serious."

  I nod, averting my eyes. "I know."

  "Have you thought about what you're going to do?"

  "Besides killing her—no."

  Chase glances around then inches himself closer to me. "She is going to out everything if you try to get rid of her."

  "I deserve it," I convey, already feeling myself start to lose everything. "I was never supposed to be governor anyway."

  Another secret. Another thing I did with Demi's fucked-up blessing and encouragement.

  "That doesn't matter now," Chase snaps. "You are, and you've changed the whole state for the better. You know Tim VanBorn wasn't going to do half the shit he preached about."

  "Stop—" I glance over at him. "—I blackmailed people and bought votes. We both know how heavy that is."

  He shakes his head. "She can't win, after the things she's done with...you can't let her kill what you've worked for your whole life."

  "I'm stuck where I am unless I can find something on Demi to extort her with. Other than that, I'm still cemented where I am. It's fucked...but it's been my reality for some time now."

  "I'm a fucking lawyer," Chase chides. "I can think of shit to—"

  "I don't want you in this." I finish off my drink and slide over the glass. "Stay away from Demi."

  "Wade—"

  "Don't let me find you planning something," I caution with narrowed eyes. "I mean it. She will discredit you with shit you've only dreamt about in your head. The bitch can bat her eyelashes and start World War III if she wanted to."

  “Wade.”

  Fuck. My. Entire. Life. Right. Now.

  Peering over my shoulder, I find mommy dearest striding in my direction. Her hunter green dress drapes over her bare shoulder, a gown too young for her age group.

  “Geezus fucking Christ,” I mutter. “Do you have a gun?”

  Chase snaps his neck in my direction. “What?”

  “I won’t look, just press the barrel to the back of my head.” Chase doesn’t get to respond because my mother is already in our personal space with another female—my sister, Phoebe.

  “My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail again,” Mom—Nora—whatever you want to fucking call her, carps out.

  I flick my gaze to my younger sister, whose head is bowed into her chest. She’s thin, too fucking frail. Which leads me to believe she’s using again. But she’s still pretty, just dumb as hell.

  “Not sure,” I reply. “Phoebe might’ve smoked it.”

  Nora’s eyes thin. “In front of Chase, really, Wade? I taught you manners, use them.”

  Chase, being the better man between us, steps forward to greet my mother. “I’m used to him, Mrs. Lockwood, he doesn’t rattle me.”

  “He can’t speak like that in the White House,” she returns, her attention still latched onto me. “It’s unprofessional and absolutely—”

  “What do you want?” I snap. “Surely, not to bitch about me to my best friend? Dad has his number, but don’t give him a call. He’s busy.”

  Nora glances over at my sister and nudges her. “Go ahead, Phoebe.” My sister doesn’t move a muscle. Eyes still focused on the floor—I think, I can’t see her eyes.

  “If you want to talk about family drama, Mother, this really isn’t the time.”

  “It’s important,” Nora counters. “It just happened.”

  I shrug. “Hurry up then.”

  “Phoebe,” Nora half-ass coos. “Tell your brother.”

  No signs of life from my sister again.

  I’m about to tell them both that I don’t have time for this when Chase gently touches my sister’s arm. Immediately, she flinches away at his touch.

  She’s never done that before.

  It’s been a long time, minus the family reunion at one of my debates, that I’ve seen Phoebe. She used to tease Chase all the time. They used to team up on me, and they got along.

  So now my curiosity is peaked.

  “Do you want to speak with your brother outside?” Chase asks her. After a moment, she only nods, and my best friend eyes me with a worried look.

  Silently, we both sense something is wrong.

  “Alright,” I let out. “C’mon.” I pivot on my heels, and glide through the room. If Phoebe follows me, fine.

  If she cowers and shit, I’m not doing this a second time.

  When we are outside, I make my way around the side of the building to keep from prying ears and eyes. I hear my sister’s heels clicking behind me with each step of mine, and when I finally turn around to talk to her, it’s not just Phoebe behind me.

  It’s Demi.

  “What in the actual fuck do you want?” My sister still won’t acknowledge me in front of her, and I don’t like the uneasy feeling that she just drew me out here to give Demi a chance to speak alone.

  I should’ve known, they were girlfriends a long time ago. What makes shit different now?

  “I needed a moment,” Demi quips calmly. “You were too busy dancing with your whore to give me a few minutes.”

  My eyes steer to my sister but nothing.

  “What do you want?” Demi takes a step in my direction, that blue dress that she’s wearing I actually take notice of for the first time.

  Different body, same dress.

  Reagan was right. Demi lost her fucking shit again.

  “I want her gone.”

  A mirthless laugh escapes my lips. “That’s it?”

  “You broke Jacques’s hand.” She might as well have said that her favorite ice cream was vanilla because there was no emotion or worry in her tone that her boyfriend wasn’t going to be fingering her anytime soon.

  She doesn’t care, Demi just wants to prove a point.

  “And?”

  Demi’s lips quirk. “And karma is a bitch.”

  “Touch someone I care about, Demi, and I’ll fuck you up in more ways than you ever thought possible.”

  “Like Reagan.”

  I lean forward. “Try me.”

  Slowly, Phoebe’s chin lifts, seizing my attention from behind Demi. Her blue eyes stare back as she mouths, “Please help me.”

  Dread pricks at my veins when I look back at the devil that I brought into all of our lives.

  “Reagan has a contract,” I tell her, appeasing her for a second because I need my sister alone. “It’s up in March, I believe.”

  “I want it done sooner,” she quips.

  And there goes that second.

  “Go fuck yourself.” I push by her, seizing my sister’s arm and yanking her into step with me.

  I’m not tiptoeing around the bitch. If my sister needs to tell me something, Demi isn’t going to stop that from happening.

  Through the parking lot, I find my car, where my driver is still sitting inside, waiting for me to call him up to the entrance to pick me up.

  Throwing open the back door of the SUV, I order, “Get out.”

  Immediately, he does, and I gesture for my sister to get inside. I close the door behind us and we’re engulfed with silence.

  “What do you need help with?” I can’t help the sternness in my tone but it’s there. I have so many mixed emotions about my sister that I could never land on just one.

  When we were children, we were as close as normal siblings. I used to tease her, she would tattle on me. I threatened her first boyfriend and made sure that none of my buddies touched or even looked at her.

  I was that usual brother.

  Until that phone call when I fou
nd out that our other sibling, Camila, and Phoebe’s twin, died from an overdose.

  That I’m still struggling with.

  Seeing Phoebe reminds me of Camila, obviously, and it makes the sting much more prominent. It only reminds me that I’m down a sister, and I wasn’t there to help her with the addiction she faced on a daily basis.

  “Demi has been making threats,” Phoebe finally states. She’s pressed up against the other side of the car, as far as she can get to be away from me.

  “Like what?”

  “She wants me to catch you having…” She swallows, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Doing what?”

  Phoebe flicks her gaze up to me. “She wants me to film you having sex with Reagan. So that she can use it against you if you don’t do what she wants.” I perk a brow, leaning back in my seat, unimpressed.

  Shit, I wish she would.

  Then it would be out in the world that Demi and I have been over and Reagan Shelton is fucking mine.

  “Have I ever been known to back down in regards to something like that?” I profess.

  “No.”

  “Then why are you wasting my time? Don’t you have a line to do or something?”

  “That’s not all,” she retorts, her face suddenly twisting in disgust. It’s the first time I’ve seen any emotion since she’s been around me.

  And now I’m intrigued.

  “Mhm, there she is,” I state. “Phoebe with an attitude. Where have you been for the last decade?”

  She shakes her head with furrowed brows. “It’s not funny.”

  “Clearly. I lost both my sister and my brother over addiction. So, notice how I’m not laughing.”

  “You didn’t lose me and Camila to parties and drugs,” Phoebe leers. “You lost us to your wife.”

  I scoff. “Now we’re blaming other people for your drug problem?”

  “You think I’m addicted to drugs?” she taunts through a clenched jaw. “For the last six years, there is a man that comes to my house, my book club, my fucking yoga classes, and forces pills down my throat. They’re all different, so I never know when or who is coming. And sometimes, they thrust a needle into my arm to inject me with—” She shrugs, but it turns into a violent shivering spasm.

  I’ve accused her a million times.

  I’ve said things to her that are unpardonable and cruel. During all my goals and ideas, my sister showing up high at dinners and coming home with half her clothes on…

  My eyes widen as suggestions slam into my brain.

  “Phoebe.” She keeps her eyes from me as I reach for her, but I refrain. We’ve been distant strangers for years, and I don’t touch people I don’t know.

  I don’t know my own sister.

  I haven’t wanted to.

  What she did was unforgivable. Maybe I blame her for Camila’s death when others are to blame too, but she’s been the only one around. I sent Demi to exile in Paris, and I expected more from Phoebe.

  I demanded more from her because Camila and her were sisters. Phoebe was a few minutes older, which gave her the responsibility to be the smarter one. Not let her party with my high-loving wife.

  “Start explaining,” I command. “What man?”

  “Demi’s man,” she mutters. “Each time, when they were done, they would kiss my cheek and say ‘with love, from Demi’. With love…” She shakes her head. “I never did anything but love her like a sister. I loved her because you did. I welcomed her because you looked at her like she was the world.”

  “You’re telling me...that Demi still…”

  “I just told you...six—” Her eyes flick to mine. “Years.” I swallow the lump lodged in my throat as my sister continues. “Camila wanted to stop. She didn’t like the way it made her feel. She didn’t like not remembering. Demi didn’t want to, she began sneaking it into our food, drinks...Camila would get upset.” She bows her head into her chest. “I never stuck up for her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Camila wanted to tell you, she shouldn’t have said that.” I inch closer to her, my heart crashing into my ribcage.

  “Said what?”

  Phoebe bites her lower lip before she says, “That she wanted to out Demi and tell you. Because Demi killed her—on purpose.”

  ♫ Pray — Picturesque ♫

  “But it’s the biggest bar night of the year,” my buddy, Andy, rebukes as he gapes at me like I’m out of my damn mind.

  I am—have been—but not when I promised Mama to be up early in the morning to help cook Thanksgiving dinner.

  “I didn’t sign up for a major hangover for tomorrow,” I retort. “I have to cook a turkey at like five in the morning, knowing Mama.”

  "I haven't seen you in forever, and you call me, drag me out here, then pussy out on drinks?"

  I hit him with a glare. “You bitched at me for not wanting to come out. I’m here, you act like you have a curfew or something, so suck a dick.”

  He smirks, exhibiting two perfect dimples and looks around the crowded bar. "Point out a big one, and I'll be more than happy to oblige."

  “Uh-huh, I’m sure Nathan would love that.”

  Andy bows his head down with a crooked smile as he grabs his drink off the table. “We broke up last week.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Damn, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you bitch at me sooner to hang out with you?”

  “Because I’m a big boy who doesn’t need coddling—” He flicks his chocolate brown eyes up at me. “—just another cock to make me forget about the previous one.”

  I laugh. “You’re a whore, Andy. You know that?”

  “Says the bitch who fucked a dude hours after breaking off your engagement with Grant,” he shoots back.

  Motherfucker.

  “Touché.” I take another sip of my beer and wrinkle my nose over one of my many glorious moments.

  “One tequila shot," Andy chimes, leaning over the table in his gray sweater. "And I promise I'll buy you another beer for you to sip on, so you don't look like a huge loser that isn't drinking."

  I give him a thumbs-up as I baby the one in my hand.

  “Atta girl!” The waitress comes to our table as if on cue, and Andy orders our shots, my beer, and his second drink. I order us cheeseburgers, extra fries, mozzarella sticks, and wings through Andy’s scowling.

  “Dude, I’m trying to get drunk,” he chides as she walks away.

  “It’s for me, fool.” He shakes his head and leans back against the leather of our booth.

  “This place is nice and cozy.”

  “I always come here when I come back home. Gets me away from the stiffs and overpowering smell of money.”

  “Speaking of money—” He squints his eyes at me. “—how are things going working with the governor?” I catch my face deforming before it happens.

  I don't want to talk about Wade while out with my buddy—the only one I can stand and bullshit with about how I hate it.

  That I want out, but the smart fucker in the suit made me sign a contract so I’m stuck with him for a few more months.

  “Why would you want to talk about that?” I ask, now picking at my beverage napkin.

  “Why not?” he challenges off a shrug. “I haven’t been updated lately.”

  “It’s...work.”

  “He’s fucking hot.”

  I raise a brow. “Is he? I can’t see past all the bullshit.”

  Andy snickers. “Not all politicians are like Grant, Rea.”

  "Yeah? Why don't you come work with me, and we'll get your mind changed real quick."

  "You're still sour over Grant," he deadpans. That's when I let my brows furrow, and my nose crinkle.

  “Um, no. I’m not heartbroken over my ex-fiancé.”

  “I didn’t say heartbroken.”

  I fold my hands in my lap to keep from really making it evident that something more is wrong with working for Wade. “Then what would you say?”

  "You let that world suck you in
. You made bad decisions, and you still don't forgive them or yourself for the way you've changed." He holds up his hand to keep me silent. "And not for the worse, it's good to have a guard up at times, but the governor is—"

  “Married.” My teeth immediately grip together off that word that just won’t stop playing in my head.

  He’s married.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  So, to what Andy’s been saying, I haven’t changed a bit. I’m still the moron who fucks politicians when I know damn well it’s a bad idea.

  Andy perks a brow. “Really? I didn’t see anything about that.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  His eyes widen. “You Googled him?”

  “Once. Looked up his Wikipedia page. The rest of the pages were just his Democratic run for president and shit."

  “Why does it sound like you care?”

  A mirthless laugh escapes my lips. “You don’t think it’s shady that all talks of his wife have disappeared off the internet?”

  "Maybe they haven't. Maybe you didn't scroll down enough, or it happened a few years ago."

  "I have enough going on with the holidays to be worrying about his life or the fact that—" My phone vibrates in my pocket, halting me from speaking more about the dude I don't want to discuss anymore.

  Thank fucking God.

  Yanking out my phone, Andy finishes off his drink but doesn’t stop the conversation.

  Yeah, I'm going to let him get drunk, so he can't form sentences.

  “I’d tap the fuck out of that if he was gay,” Andy continues. “Maybe I can fix that. When is his next event? I want to come.”

  Chase: The biggest bar night of the year, and I'm still stuck in the office.

  Chase: Did you have the beer for me?

  Me: Two already, so technically yes.

  Me: But not with you in mind.

  "He has a charity event coming up for Christmas, but it's exclusive," I tell my friend. "I'll see if I can slip you in instead of Sadie. She keeps talking about how much Christmas shopping she has to do, so she'll probably be grateful."

  "Just let me know the date, and I'll be there."

  I glance up at him. "Don't act like an idiot. I'm going to announce you as my assistant, so Wade doesn't lose his shit."