Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(75)

Good fake boyfriend.

“Why do you want me fired so bad?” Ben asks, his voice crackling with the low, soft tone as he leans into me. Not too close, but surely close enough to be inappropriate for Jack’s romance barometer. I hope he left before I took the stage.

“I think you’re going to do that all by yourself.” I take a step back, just in case he didn’t. I truly don’t want Ben to become a casualty of war and, if Jack’s still here and he sees this . . . “Where’s my drink?”

“Lina has it,” he murmurs, his chest rising as his eyes fall to my cleavage. “And you’d better guzzle, because we’re leaving right now.”

Oh boy. Ben obviously has plans for me. Tonight. That’s probably a good thing. It helps with this plan of mine: In. Impress. Out. I don’t want to linger too long and be forced to face the two of them together. Leaving on a high note gives me the upper hand here. “I’ll be there in a second, okay?” I pull the guitar strap over my head and hand it back to the guitar player, who offers me a nod of praise before jumping back onstage. With a gentle jab at Ben’s ribs, I head to the ladies’ room, feeling his eyes scorch my back the entire way. Or maybe they were Jared’s eyes.

Or both.

But the second I step out of the stall, I find a very different set of eyes scorching me. Ones full of hatred. And fear. They’re attached to the ginger-headed bitch waiting by the sink, her hands planted on her hips.

“What are you doing here?” she snaps.

So predictable. I turn on the tap. “Right now, I’m washing my hands. Do you want to know what I just did in there?” I jam a thumb over my shoulder to point at the toilet. “Because that’d be a bit weird.” If roles were reversed, I’d have punched her by now.

“I warned you!” She sticks her French-manicured fingernail in my face, so close to my nose that I fight the urge to swat it away. “Stay away from him!”

I give her my best confused look. “I’m here for a work party.”

“Really?” A haughty smile creeps over her lips. “So you haven’t been sending messages to Jared? Because somehow he found out that I knew his password.”

“And how’d that work out for you?”

The visible clenching of her teeth tells me not very well. “You asked him to come.”

“No. He said he wanted to go out for drinks and I told him I’d be here tonight,” I say slowly, and then switch my tone to something more patronizing. “I think you should be more concerned with why Jared wants to meet up with his ex-wife in the first place. Why he’s going out of his way to be friends with me.”

Her brow pulls together. I can see the wheels of suspicion begin churning, the once supremely confident Caroline suffering from the affliction of doubt. Is Jared cheating on her? Would he? My work for tonight could be done. I could just leave her with that.

But, of course, I don’t, because the burn from their treachery has left emotionally crippling scars inside. “I wonder what it’ll feel like when you catch him with another woman.”

“He wouldn’t do that to me.”

I stare hard at her, looking for the truth behind that. I can’t tell if she actually believes it. If she believes she is that important to him. “No?” I plaster on my own wicked smile, and I know it’s a winning one because her face pales. And then, because this woman still hasn’t shown an ounce of shame for what she did to me, hasn’t attempted to say “I’m sorry,” I go straight for her jugular by hissing, “I’ll be sure to let you know what I think of your shower.”

Her eyes flash with rage. “You whore!”

I’m guessing Lina and Nicki saw her follow me in and had their heads pressed against the door because the second Caroline shrieks, the two of them plowed through it, followed closely by Ben and Mason and a couple of curious women on their way to the bathroom. It’s perfect timing, really. I was just standing there, my arms folded across my chest, when Caroline flew at me, claws out.

I let her get one scratch across my collarbone in and a few solid fingerprints over my throat before I shove her away.

Nicki intercepts any further attack by firmly holding her arms to her side. I’ve seen her put people in headlocks before, so this is rather gentle. I doubt it’s necessary, though. By Caroline’s splotchy red face and the way she’s smoothing out her dress, she’s embarrassed. “I’m filing a restraining order against you.”

I dab a tissue that Lina provided against the scratch along my neck. It comes back with a few spots of blood. “Good luck with that. I haven’t done anything wrong. If you’ll recall, I moved away from you. I have never approached either of you.” Well, that is technically a lie, but she doesn’t know about the paintball. “I did not get your new phone number. I did not message Jared first. And I certainly did not just physically attack you. In front of witnesses. I’m just here, celebrating with my co-workers. And my boyfriend,” I add, gesturing to Ben, who shoots an exasperated look my way while Mason has one of his own for his friend. “Maybe I should be filing a restraining order against you? What do you think?” Just to be a complete ass, I ask Lina. “What do you think?”

“I think the court would be on your side, but I’m no lawyer.” Turning slightly, Lina muses, “What do you think, lawyers? Would Reese have a case here?”