Beautiful and Broken (10 page)

"All right, now, we're going to work through this like civilized adults. Mia, tell Molly."

The waiter drops off our drinks and my family quiets until he’s no longer in earshot.

I fold my arms across my chest and brace, willing myself not to scream or cry. Why did my parents do this to me? In a public place? A restaurant I love coming to.
 

"I…" Mia glances back and forth between me and my mother. "I lied. Jason was having cold feet and I tried to comfort him."

My mother elbows her.
 

"We hugged and I mistook his intentions. I kissed him. He kissed me back at first but then he stopped. He told me he loved you, and only you.” She fidgets with her hands and then runs them through her long blonde hair. “That's when dad walked in. He saw Jason and I holding each other."

I watch my mother, who's beaming at me.
 

"See. It was a mistake. Mia's mistake,” my mother says. It’s not lost on me that she's throwing Mia to the wolves in order to get Jason and I back together. I’d feel bad for her if I wasn’t so pissed.
 

“Why would you do that to me? I’m your sister.”

Mia breathes through pursed lips and sits up tall in her seat. “You would never understand.”

“You’re right about that. I would never do that to you. Why do you hate me so much?”

Mia’s eyes go glassy, and she closes them tightly before opening them and focusing on me. “I’m sorry, Molly. That’s all I can say. But believe me when I tell you, I did what I did for you.”

Ha! “You’re selfish and cruel. I don’t even hate you right now—I feel sorry for you. You couldn’t stand to have me in the spotlight for the day. Jason was right.”

Her gaze flicks back to me. “You talked to him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I can’t do this!” Mia throws her napkin down. Mom tries to stop her from standing, but Mia wriggles her arm free. “He’ll hurt you, Molly. I promise you. And when he does, don’t say I didn’t prepare you for it.” In her high heels, she storms out of the restaurant without looking back.
 

Dad sets his drink down and loosens his tie. When his gaze meets mine, he looks guilty.
 

“You spoke with Jason?” Mom says, taking a sip of her water. She acts as if the scene with my sister never even happened.
This
is why I try to avoid her.
 

“He came to see me when I did this to my head.” I point to the stitches.

“So you’re speaking again?”

“Don’t push her,” Dad says.
 

“Of course not. But I’m just happy you’re working things out. Agnes will be so pleased.”
 

Agnes is Jason’s mother, and she’s a carbon copy of mine.
 

“Can we talk about something else please?” I ask.

“Amen to that,” my father says, chugging the rest of his drink.
 

Our dinner comes and we eat in silence. My dad glances at me every few minutes or so, as if he wants to tell me something, but he doesn’t say a word. When we’re done, I hug them goodbye and hurry home. I can’t get away from my mother fast enough.
 

At home, Amy is on the couch, working. Her glasses are on, her hair is in a serious messy bun and a stack of papers lay in her lap. "You're home late.” She glances up at me, and then her attention returns to her papers.
 

The Bachelor
is on in the background. I want to take my shoes off and chuck them at the television. One man sorting through twenty-eight women. That’s what’s wrong with the world. And these girls just allow him to date them all, hoping they’ll be the last one standing.
 

"What’s wrong?" Amy collects her papers and sets them down on the coffee table. She frowns at me and pats the seat beside her. Sighing, I kick off my shoes and lumber over, before leaning against her and tipping my head onto her shoulder.
 

"My parents dragged Mia and me out for dinner. She says it was all her fault…at the coaxing of my mother."

"Do you believe her?"

"I don't know what to believe. She was adamant that it was all Jason when I saw her at the club. I want to believe she’s telling the truth now, but something inside of me says there’s more than anyone is letting on. I have a feeling everything she said today, my mother forced her to say. Even my dad wants me to go back to him, although he looked pretty guilty about it.

"And to top off my day, Sawyer Davis wants to hire me as a real estate agent and doesn't even remember that he slept with me a week ago. I pretty much told him to pound sand and now I'm going to get fired."

"All that today? You've been busy."

I chuckle but there's no humor involved. The only thing that would top off my day is finding out I'm pregnant or that Sawyer gave me a STD. Wait! No. Must not think that or I'll jinx myself.
 

"Sawyer said he heard I needed clients. Who told him that? Was that you? I can’t imagine who else it would be."

Amy coughs and gently removes my head form her shoulder. Enough touching for tonight.
 

"After you refused to take money from his lawyer, Sawyer showed up in my office."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugs and turns so she's facing me, folding her legs up on the couch. "Because you said you never wanted to hear his name ever again."

"What did he say?"

"I told him he was an ass for sending a lawyer and he said he wanted to make amends…so I told him if he wanted to help that you're a real estate agent and he could throw some clients your way. He said he knew someone."

"Yeah.
Him
."

"Well he didn't specify, or else I would have told him not to bother."

"My boss said I'm fired if I don't take him on. This was after I gave Sawyer the kiss off. Now I have to go back to him and kiss his ass." I snatch a pillow and scream into it.
 

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he fired you?”

I sigh. “And then what? Move home with my parents? Have them convince me to go to law school?” I shake my head.

“Why would you have to go back to your parents? I told you, you can stay here as long as you want.”

“Amy, I’m not taking advantage of you. I won’t live here unless you let me help you with the rent.”

"So what are you going to do?"
 

"I don’t know…you know, he didn't even remember me. I mean, we were both drunk, but I don't think he remembered you introducing us either. All he remembered was the tooth in my head." I make a pouty face. "Why can't I just go back to a month ago? I was blissfully ignorant and happy."

"That’s the way you want to live? In the dark?"

"No. But I was happy."

"You’ll be happy again."
 

I find that hard to believe, though I desperately want to. But right now I can't think about anything except swallowing my pride—something I don't do all that well—and calling Sawyer in the morning. And hope to God that he's still willing to work with me.

“How was your night?” I ask.

“Uneventful. Just working on some last minute details for the benefit auction on Friday.”
 

“Anything I can help you with?”

Her lips curl into a devious smile. “As a matter of fact…”

Eight

SOMEHOW I AGREED to be Amy’s date to the benefit auction she’s organizing for this Friday. Her date bailed on her and she's refusing to go alone. I don’t want to go, but hey, I offered to help, so I had little choice but to say yes when she asked me. She told me she’d buy me a corsage. I guess that sealed the deal. I have nothing to wear but luckily for me, Amy has a full closet and we’re both a size 5.
 

The auction makes me anxious. Actors, celebrities, socialites…they’ll all be there. And Amy will be busy. The very thought of it makes me want to crawl back into bed and stay there. But I have work to do. Namely, convincing Sawyer Davis to rehire me.
 

Sigh.
 

Begging is not my strong point, especially if he acts like an ass when I ask him to take me back.
 

When I arrive at the office in the morning, it’s eerily quiet. I tap my finger on my desk in rhythm with the clock on the wall behind me. Outside, the world is shaded with clouds and I turn on the lamp at my desk to light up my space. I need to get a head start on my day and gather my nerve to eat crow. After a full cup of coffee and two bagels, I feel like I have a lead brick in my stomach; it gargles, as if angry with me, and I know I'm going to regret the carbs later.
 

I wait until eight before calling Dina. The number Amy gave me for Sawyer went straight to voicemail, and I worry he's not answering my calls after I blew him off. I don't blame him. I'd blow me off too.

Dina answers on the first ring. I can hear the tap, tap, tap of her fingers striking her keyboard in the background.

"Dina, this is Molly Newton. I spoke with you the other day about potential houses for Sawyer Davis."

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"I'm trying to get a hold of Sawyer about some houses but his phone is going to voicemail. Is there another way I can reach him?"

"I'm sorry. What's your question? It's eight o'clock in the morning and he didn't answer your phone call? Isn’t that shocking. Perhaps you
should
leave him a voicemail.”

I feel like a child. Her voice is cold and condescending. She’s right. It’s early and I must sound like a stalker. I should have left a message, only I know he probably won't return it and I need to speak with him, even if he doesn't want to speak with me. If he doesn't hire me, I'm beyond screwed.
 

"Right. Of course. It's just that there’s this house I’m sure he'll love, and I'm afraid if we don't get in there today it might be sold.”

"Interesting. Sawyer called me yesterday and told me to find him a new agent."

My heart sinks and my lungs deflate. I’m fucked. What do I do now? No. I can't give up that easy. If I lose this sale, I’m going to be broke and living with my mother. I’d rather have daily pap tests.
 

"I told him I wouldn't work with him, for…personal reasons, but I've thought it over and I've changed my mind."

I hear a squeak on the other end and the typing stops. I imagine her leaning back in her chair, wondering what the hell kind of game I'm playing. I don't want to give her any more information, but I will if she pushes me. Maybe she'll even commiserate with me. “So I have this lovely scar on my forehead, for which he’s personally responsible,” I say quickly. “I’m assuming that’s why he chose me as an agent. To make amends."

"He's at Revolution gym on South Street. He won't appreciate you interrupting his work out, so be a doll and be sure to tell him I sent you."
 

Alright, then… Did she sleep with him, too? I slap my forehead with the ball of my hand. Of course she did. Is there anyone who hasn’t?

The gym is located in the posh end of the city where the condos alone cost millions. They soar high into the sky, have gyms and heated, indoor pools, and front desk men and valets—things I can only dream about with my salary. The gym is kind of hard to find, even with a GPS. When I do find it, it's almost ten o'clock. I wonder if he'll still be here, but he's a professional athlete, so what else does he have to do with his day?
 

The front of the building is all windows. I can see dozens of cardio machines inside, all being used by tight-bodied women and men in spandex and muscle shirts.
 

I stand up a little straighter and pull the ends of my blazer down as I walk forward. My body is not at all firm. I don’t work out and I don’t have any intention of doing so in the future. I'm just soft and I'm okay with that. Or I am…until I go into places like these.
 

There's security at the door—I mean, not just a front desk attendant but a security officer as well. He tips his hat at me as I approach the desk. The receptionist smiles widely and waits for me to speak.

"Yes. I'm looking for Sawyer Davis."

His smile fades and he props his hands on his hips. His muscle shirt sports the tiny image of a gold dumbbell over the name of the gym: Revolution. "I'm sorry, but this is an exclusive gym and only members are allowed on the floor."

"I see. Well I only need to see him for a moment."

"Are you a reporter?"

I almost laugh. "Do I look like a reporter?"

He raises his eyebrows at me and juts his hip out. I imagine him tapping his toe under the desk, wanting to scold me for wasting his time.
 

"I work for him." I slap my briefcase onto the desk.
 

He nods to the security guard. "Chuck, can you take her to Sawyer Davis?"

The security guard stays close to me as we walk down the centre aisle of the gym. We pass through two doors and walk down a corridor with glass doors on either sides. I see workout equipment, yoga studios and step and spinning classes. He takes me to the very head of the hall and opens one of the double doors.
 

"After you," he says, with a wave.

I pass through. There are four boxing rings inside, each of them occupied. Other ripped men exercise around the room, jumping rope, punching bags, or working the mats.
 

Sawyer is in the ring with a guy much larger than him. They’re wearing protective equipment on their heads and hands. Sawyer’s shirt is off and his body is wet with sweat. His muscles flex and relax with every punch and jab he makes. He bounces from foot to foot.
 

Muscles tighten between my legs. I can't help but admit how absolutely hot he looks right now. It’s almost a shame I can't remember sleeping with him. After hearing him go at it for an hour at the party, I'm sure that he amazed me. My muscles tighten even harder. I need to stop thinking about him like that. He’s an ass. He doesn't even remember me.
 

I hesitate and the guard points over at Sawyer. "I'll wait here," he says.