Blue Streak: A Blue Series Novella (2 page)

When Alexis cornered me at my blackjack table downstairs and publicly handed me her keycard, I was pissed. We’ve always kept our relationship quiet. But instead of looking around at the pit boss, or anyone else who might object to my fraternizing with patrons of the casino, my first instinct was to check the sports bar where Nessa works.

Nessa was already peering my way. Her eyes immediately darted to the side, but I thought she might have caught the exchange. I had the furious urge to snap Alexis’s keycard in half.

“Darling.” Alexis saunters to the chrome and glass dining table, and sets her wineglass down. “You look tired. You’ve had a long day at work. Take off your shoes. Hop in the bathroom for a steam shower. You’ll feel much better afterward.”

“No, thanks. I’m gonna head home.”

Alexis was there for me after my mom’s accident, eight years ago, and I have a hard time ditching her. I feel obligated where she’s concerned. But that obligation is getting more and more difficult to stomach lately. I turn to leave.

“Zach,” Alexis says. “Is everything okay?” She walks over, her expression soft. But I know better. Alexis’s heart is impenetrable. She cares for me in her way, but I no longer find it genuine. In fact, I wonder if it was ever real, or merely formed out of selfishness on her part.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just tired.”
Mentally more than physically.

She reaches for the buttons on my shirt.

“Alexis, stop,” I say, pushing her hands aside.

My response isn’t greeted with a kitten pout this time, but a look of genuine frustration. “What is your problem? I’ve always taken care of you, Zach. Ever since your mother… Well, for years. I’m the one who’s been there for you, and this is how you treat me?” She drops her hands and turns her back to me, staring out the broad window overlooking my hometown.

I sigh. Alexis knows exactly how to make me feel guilty. Her actions may be based on selfishness, but she’s right. Alexis was my mom’s best friend, and in some twisted way, she’s been like a mother figure to me.

A mother I fuck. Jesus, that’s messed up.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful.” And now I feel like a dick. But Alexis pushes too hard sometimes, and I’m not into it. I haven’t been for years. I’d rather be friends. What we’ve been doing—it’s wrong.

Alexis and I have been lovers since I was sixteen and she was thirty. She made me swear not to tell anyone, claiming they wouldn’t understand. I knew she could get into trouble for dating me. I had no problem lying to everyone, as long as I kept receiving her attention.

I’m twenty-four now, and I know better. My reasons for keeping our relationship a secret have nothing to do with protecting Alexis from the law. I don’t want people to know about us, because I’m ashamed. But this thing has been going on for so long that I don’t know how to stop it. The few times I’ve tried, Alexis has thrown a fit. Just like she’s doing right now.

“
Zach,
you’re not even paying attention! What is wrong with you? Stop fighting this.” She reaches for the buttons of my shirt again, and I let her unfasten them. “You’ll feel much better after a shower. And then, who knows.” She looks up and smiles suggestively.

I place my hand over hers and hold it to my chest, forcing her to stop. “I’ll take a shower, then I’m leaving. Nothing more, Alexis. I’m not interested.”

She steps back. “Of course.” She walks to her glass of wine and takes a sip. “Take your time. I want you happy and comfortable in my home.”

I shake my head. “This is a hotel suite, not your home.”

She waves me off and moves to a chaise. “Same difference. Now hurry along. Your shower awaits.”

I step into the bathroom and close the door, undressing as quickly as I can. I could use a shower, but I’d rather have one at my place. Alexis gets nasty when I don’t do what she says. Better to appease her and take the damn shower than deal with her bitching.

But I’m not fucking her. Not in the mood—can’t remember the last time I was in the mood. Doesn’t mean I didn’t do it, though. I’m as much to blame for this thing as she is.

I turn on the shower nozzle and don’t bother with the steam. I’ll be in and out, no frills. Just long enough to let her feel like she’s taking care of me, and to get her off my back.

Scrubbing my head and body with the shampoo the hotel provides, I close my eyes to keep the suds out—and sense a shift in the air, as if the bathroom door has opened.

Fuck.
I should have locked it. Alexis doesn’t know the meaning of boundaries.

I don’t say anything, though. Maybe she only came in to grab something, but I highly doubt it.

The
swish
of the thick glass shower door opening tells me I’m right.

Alexis stands in front of it, her arms crossed, ogling me. “Mmmm, you look tasty. Have you been going to the gym?”

I rinse out the shampoo, and turn off the water. “You know I go to the gym. Mind handing me a towel?” She’s blocking my exit, and beginning to piss me off.

Alexis stares at my dick, which is still dormant. No movement. None. And I can tell by the look on her face she’d like to do something about that.

“The towel, Alexis.”

She rolls her eyes and hands it to me, stepping out of the way just enough for me to get past her while still grazing her body.

I ignore her presence and dress quickly. “Thanks for the shower. I better get going.”

Alexis follows me out of the bathroom. “That’s all? You’re really not going to stay? Zach, you know I can take care of you and help you relax.” She smiles and glances at my crotch.

I don’t want what we’ve had anymore. And it’s never been more apparent than tonight, with Nessa seeing me and Alexis together, and how dirty I feel right now. But I need to tell Alexis it’s over someplace else, someplace where I’m on equal footing. Not inside this damn suite that makes me feel weak and filthy, and reminds me of every time we’ve ever been together.

“Not tonight.”

*

The first thing
I see when I exit the elevator after leaving Alexis’s hotel room is Nessa walking up to some dude wearing a Chargers cap and flip-flops. Nessa’s in tight black jeans that mold to her perfect curves, and a long-sleeved tee, a sweatshirt tucked in the crook of her arm. It’s the end of spring, beginning of summer, and warm during the day, but nights are still chilly.

“All set?” I hear the guy ask her as I near.

Nessa looks up and our gazes lock. At first she appears surprised, then her gaze turns weary. Her smooth throat bobs in a swallow, eyes flittering away for a second. She looks back and gives me a tight smile.

My gut knots. For a moment, I wonder if she knows where I came from. Or more importantly, who. But no one knows about me and Alexis, not even my best friends. Nessa did see Alexis hand me the keycard, which was damning…

Panic tightens my chest. No fucking way I want my friends aware of the truth, and especially not Nessa.

As I skim her pretty face to read what she may or may not be thinking, I notice again the guy standing next to her. Stifling the urge to reach for her and jerk her to my side, I say, “What’s up?”

She introduces me to her friend, and I barely register his name. I’m too busy tracking the subtle flicker of her dark brown eyes, the tightening of her mouth. She won’t look at me.

“Sal and I were just leaving for Farley’s.” Her voice is flat, cold. And totally not like her.

Even if she suspects something with Alexis, why the cold shoulder? Nessa knows I date around. And who is this guy, really? She’s not starting to date, is she? Things have been great with Nessa hanging out with me and my friends.

“Wait up,” I say. “I’ll join you.”

Her friend seems okay with me inviting myself, or else he’s hiding it with a good poker face. But Nessa’s gaze narrows, finally taking me in. I ignore the flare of anger I see there. She’s more pissed than the dude I cock-blocked, and I honestly don’t give a shit. Nessa is pint-sized, and I don’t know this guy. No way am I letting her walk out the door with him.

I pull her to the side before she can refuse me. “I don’t think you should leave with him.”

“Sal’s harmless.”

“No guy is harmless.”

“Some guys are. You’re harmless.”

“Not even me.”

Her head notches back. I hadn’t planned on saying that, but it’s true. Given how messed up my life is, I’ve never been a safe guy for Nessa. Which is why I make sure we’re friends and nothing more.

She seems to shake off my words. “Fine, whatever—let’s go.”

We walk through the crowd on the strip and make our way to Farley’s. The place is packed when we enter, but the group Nessa and Sal are meeting up with quickly flags us down and buys a round of shots. I take that moment to let the tension from my run-in with Alexis roll off my shoulders. I need to do something about her. End it once and for all.

I get the next round of drinks, and we line up at the indoor Cornhole.
Best name ever
.

Sal—I’m reminded when I call him by the wrong name—hands Nessa and me four small sandbags. “You’re up, Ness. Let’s see whatcha got.”

His familiarity with her grates on me. Who the hell
is
he? Seems like a typical Tahoe clinger. Why would she be interested in him?

Nessa sets her drink on the table beside us and lines up a shot, eyeballing the illuminated neon-green hole. The rest of the court is decorated with dusty holiday lights.

She tosses the sandbag into the air and it falls short, straddling the edge of the box.

“Little low there, Pipsqueak,” I say, a smile in my voice.

Nessa’s shoulders stiffen, and she glares at me.

I raise a brow at her. “Doth my presence irritate?” She faces forward again.

Hmm, a little touchy tonight.

I step up to take my shot. Nessa’s on Sal’s team. I guess because she’s with him. Not
with
him
-with him, but you know, she came here with him. And me—she came with me too. Okay, I invited myself.

Jesus, I hope she’s not thinking of dating this guy. I’ve gotten used to not having to worry about Nessa. As a brother—worried like a brother would be. And if I have a strong attraction to the sweet, gorgeous brunette who hangs out with me and my friends, that’s my secret.

I better at least get it on the board after I razzed Nessa for her shot. I let the sandbag fly and it lands on the edge of the hole.

Our teammates take their turns and we’re even by the end of the round.

Nessa’s up, and this time, she slides the bag home, her petite, curvy hips doing a little swish in victory.

She turns and smiles. “Sorry, didn’t I mention I was a pitcher in high school?” Her partner walks over to congratulate her, and she high-fives him.

Damn, what’s going on with her tonight? “Didn’t know you played softball,” I say when she returns to my side. “How long?”

“Six years. I played in junior high as well.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“Kind of. What other talents are you hiding?”

Her light olive complexion turns rosy. “Nothing you’re ever going to know about.”

“Ouch,” I say, but immediately my mind wanders. To topics I try not to think about when it comes to this girl. It damn well isn’t easy, because just looking at her has me thinking of… things… hot, sweaty, naked things. With my things inside her things, my mouth on…
Stop
!

Time for a subject change. “What’s up, Ness? You seem angry tonight.”

She looks away, staring ahead as she answers. “Why were you coming from the Blue hotel elevators earlier, Zach?”

Which really isn’t an answer, but a question.

My chest burns, and I feel my face flaming—not in embarrassment, but anger. With myself, for continuing something I should have put a stop to years ago.

“Does it matter?”

She looks me square in the eye. “Yes.”

Hurt and sorrow fill her eyes—as if she knows what I’m not saying. Knows what I’ve hidden from everyone. It shocks and undoes me.

She
can’t
know.

“I’m up.” I avoid her question, because I don’t want to tell her the truth, but I won’t lie to her either.

I prepare for my toss. The guys on the other side are chatting and drinking their beers. They don’t seem to mind that we’ve stopped in mid-game to talk about something I have every intention of avoiding.

“Who is she, Zach?” Nessa persists. “Why does she come every month? Why do you go with her?” Nessa’s voice is soft, pained.

I swallow hard.
Fuck.
I’m not hiding anything. And why is Nessa so upset by it?

It’s one thing for me to be unhappy with my arrangement with Alexis. It’s another to see Nessa hurt by it.

“She’s no one, Pipsqueak.”

“Stop calling me that!”

The discussion across from us halts. The guys stare at Nessa. I do too, taking in the heaving of her chest, the flare in her eyes.
Whoa.
Never seen Nessa like this before.

I grab the sandbags from her hands and set them on the table, pulling her to the side. “What’s up?”

She looks away. “I hate that nickname.”