King's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (16 page)

Sniveling,
I open the center console and pull out some tissue. I blow my nose and dry my
eyes. “I can’t see him again, Savannah. He’s not just a club owner. He’s a . .
. a drug dealer. I think he probably sells the drugs out of his clubs.”

“What?
Where’d you get that crazy idea?” she says, shaking her head.

“It’s
not an idea. It’s the truth. His head of security told me—well, he didn’t
actually tell me, but he warned me about King. He said he has this empire or
something that he inherited from his daddy when he died, and that he’s really
dangerous. And he knows I’m only nineteen.”

She
lets out a long, low whistle while she starts the engine. “Wow . . . man, I
thought you were in over your head with the lie about your age and having a
crush on an older man, but this . . . I mean, this is like shit from the movies
or HBO specials.”

“I
can’t believe it either,” I whisper so softly that she probably didn’t even
hear me. “I’m really hot. Can you turn the air down?” I’m not only hot. I’m
nauseous. The magnitude of this situation is hitting me hard, and apparently my
body has decided that throwing up is the best way to purge stress.

Savannah
looks my way after she turns down the air, and knowing me well, she pulls over
to the side of the road.

I
open the door and lean out, preparing for a horrible bout of retching, but it
never comes. Beads of sweat line my forehead as I grip the dash and the
door jamb
, but mercifully, none of my dinner makes a
reappearance.

“I’m
okay now. Let’s go,” I say, gulping in the cool night air.

“You
sure? I don’t have time to clean puke outta my mama’s car. We need to get
home.”

“Yes,
go,” I say and wave my hand forward. The further away from club Ecstasy and
King Romero’s world I get, the better off I’ll be . . . I think.

Back
at Savannah’s house, we couldn’t have had better timing. Just as I get changed into
an oversized t-shirt of Savannah’s and settled on the couch to watch TV, Mama
starts banging on the door.

“Savannah,
why aren’t you answering your phone?” she hollers through the door. When
Savannah opens it, she storms in, red faced and frantic.

“Hi,
Mrs. Bennett. What’s up?” she says cheerily, and I sink a little further into
the overstuffed couch cushions, hoping Mama doesn’t see my swollen eyes.

“What’s
up? What’s up, Missy, is that I’ve been trying to call you both for two hours
with no answer. What’s going on over here? Where’s your mother?”

“Oh,
she went out with her new boyfriend. I’m sorry about the phone. Mine died.
Holland, where’s your phone?” she asks, turning in the darkened room to look at
me curled up on the couch. I wish like hell I could just disintegrate into the
old dust-filled stuffing of the pillows where I would never have to lie to my
mother again.

“Um,
I think it’s in my bag in your room. Sorry, Mama. I should have called, but we
got caught up watching this . . .” I don’t know what the hell we are supposed
to have been watching.

“Super
sad movie,” Savannah says dramatically with wide doe eyes. “Holland is such a
sap, she’s been bawling since the main character got arrested and had to leave
her fiancé to go to jail.”

I
glance at the screen and thank God Mama doesn’t know anything about
Orange is the New Black
, because that’s
what Savannah has on. I have an overwhelming urge to roll my eyes, but I nod in
agreement instead. Mama tilts her head to the side and peers through the dark
to examine me closer. She’s never been suspicious of me before, and I think
she’s trying to figure out if she should be now. She takes a quick breath in
and blows it out when she’s satisfied nothing fishy is going on.

“Well,
all right, you girls don’t stay up too late now. You need your sleep. And go
get your phone, Holland. I want you to answer it if I call you from now on, do
you understand?”

“Yes,
Mama, I’m sorry. I’ll go get it right now,” I say and welcome the excuse to
leave the room. She calls out “I love you,” and I hear the door click shut and
three locks being turned. Savannah’s mama is a little paranoid about intruders.
When I dig my phone from my purse, I see I have six unread texts—one from
my mama, who never texts, so she must have been desperate. The other five are
from King.

Standing
in my best friend’s bedroom with only the light of my cellphone, I stare at the
screen and pray for a solution. I think I might have been falling for King, but
now that I know who he really is—
what
he really is—I know I’ll never get past that. There’s no way in hell I
could ever be involved with someone like that. My whole life has been about
preparing to be a professional musician. Being associated with King would
destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for. God, I hope it hasn’t already. What
if someone finds out? My parents would flip, Juilliard would retract my
entrance acceptance in a heartbeat, and all of my years of hard work would go
up in smoke. No. I’m not letting that happen. I have to cut things off with
King completely, starting with these texts.

“Hey,
whatcha doin’ standing in the dark?” Savanna asks softly.

“Thinking.”
I hold the phone to my chest, and two fat tears race down my cheeks.

“Do
you want to talk? I mean, I don’t know what to say, but I can listen if you
want.”

“There
isn’t really anything to say. King was a mistake. I was in the wrong place at
the wrong time and I lost my mind.” I can’t keep the quiver from my voice, and
Savannah rushes into the room, smashing me into a bear hug.

“I’m
sorry, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t begged you to go clubbing, you would
have never met him.”

I
don’t regret meeting King, and I especially don’t regret what happened between
us. It was amazing to be swept off my feet like that, and I’m glad he was my
first. It was magical and intense and too good to be true. I should have known.

“Don’t
apologize. It’s not like you forced me. I could have said no to the clubbing,
the drinking, and to King, but I didn’t, and that’s on me,” I say, untangling
myself from her arms. “Let’s go finish watching
Orange is the new black
.”

“You
caught that, huh?”

“Yea.
I’m glad nobody started cursing or getting naked while she was standing there.”

“I
would have died laughing,” she says.

“I
don’t feel like laughing.”

I
can just make out the silhouette of Savanna nodding in the dark before she
turns to lead the way back to the living room.

My
phone pings, notifying me of another text while I’m snuggling into my spot on
the couch.

“Who’s
that?” she asks, and I turn my gaze toward the TV.

I
have to decide how to handle breaking things off with King. Should I read his
texts or just delete them and block his number? If I read them, it will make me
weak and I’ll feel obligated to reply. And I have a strong suspicion that King
will not be ignored. Blocking his number will only prolong the inevitable until
he gets home from Miami and searches me out.

My
phone pings again, reminding me of the waiting texts. Ugh, I need time to think
and my damn phone is rushing me.

“You
gonna
answer that?” she asks.

“I
don’t know what to do. He keeps texting, and I want to answer but I can’t.”

“I
can read them for you,” she offers. That wouldn’t be a bad idea if I weren’t
afraid of him saying something about last night.

“Thanks.
I should probably do it though.”

“Holland,
you said earlier that you could have said no to King. Did you mean—
”

“Yeah,”
I answer. She may as well know everything—well not
everything
. I look over, and she’s frozen on the other couch with
her mouth hanging open. We were both virgins, and it was always assumed that
she would be the first to lose hers. In fact, she teased me that I’d never give
it up to anyone because I couldn’t put my violin down long enough.

“Who
are you? I mean, where is the real Holland? I can’t believe this.”

“I’m
not sure who I am anymore either.”

“Holland,
what are you gonna do? I can tell you’re into him, but damn, he’s really a drug
dealer? Are you positive? Could that Sebastián person be wrong? What if he’s
just trying to scare you off for some reason? I think you should talk to King
before you make any decisions.”

She
has a point. I mean, Sebastián didn’t actually say the words, ‘King is a drug
dealer,’ and I’ve only known King for less than forty-eight hours.

“Look
at the texts. See what he’s saying.”

I
sigh and cave easily, looking at his first message. When I see it’s pretty
tame, I read it out loud to Savannah.

‘Thinking of you. Make yourself at
home. If you need anything, just ask Sebastián.’

 
“He sounds sweet, not like a drug
dealer.”

“What’s
a drug dealer sound like?” I ask.

“Like
you know . . . using
curse
words and being bossy and
stuff. I don’t know, not like that though. What’s the next one say?” She
wiggles into a more attentive position on her couch and waves at my phone.

‘Boarding the jet. I’ll message when
I’m in the air. Are you okay?’

“Boarding
the jet? Holy shit, Holland, he has a jet? Maybe he really
is
a drug dealer.”

“Just
because he’s boarding a jet doesn’t mean he owns it.”

“Now
you’re defending him? A minute ago you were ready to dump him,” she says,
narrowing her eyes.

“I
know. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I’ve never had a boyfriend
or whatever he is, and I’ve certainly never known a drug dealer, okay?” I yell
and toss the phone aside.

“Okay,
okay, sorry. It’s just . . . I
dunno
. This is so
crazy.” She shakes her head.

“You
don’t have to tell me that. I feel like I’m in the middle of a tornado. I don’t
know which way is up.”

“Call
him.” She shrugs.

“What?
I can’t just call him, he’s on a business trip.”

“Okay,
then read the rest of his texts at least.” I grab my phone again and scroll to
his third text.

‘Getting ready to land. You’re quiet,
baby. You okay?’

 
“He calls you
baby
? Oh my God, that’s serious.” She’s on her knees now, rubbing
her hands on her thighs and practically vibrating with excitement.

“It’s
no big deal.” I lie, because it is to me. I love it when he calls me baby.

 
“Okay, next message,” she says with
enthusiasm. She’s just not getting that this is serious. It’s not a game. I
have strong feelings for this man, and we both have secrets—big secrets.
I sigh and look at the next message.

‘Call me.’
Short and direct.

“Well
that’s a little bossy—much more like a drug dealer,” she says, nodding
her head up and down.

“You’re
not helping, Savannah.”

“Sorry.
Keep going. What else does he say?”

‘Call.
Me.’
Again?
Shit.

“Uh,
I think maybe you should call him.”

I
look with one eye open to see what his last message says, and it makes me sit
up straight and drop my phone in my lap.

“What?
Holland, what did he say?” she asks, joining me on my couch. She picks up my
phone to read the message herself. I hear her gasp when she reads it aloud.

‘I’m having the jet refueled. I’m
coming home right now if you don’t call me—pinky swear.’

“Pinky
swear
? What’s that mean? Shit, Holland, call him.” She
hands me the phone and I take a deep breath before dialing.

He
can’t come home. He can’t find out I’ve been
lying
to
him about my age. He can’t know I live at home with my parents, and I can’t
keep seeing a drug dealer, no matter how I feel about him.

The
phone doesn’t even finish ringing one time before I hear his voice.

“Holland,
is everything alright?” he says, and I hear the howl of a jet engine in the
background.

“I’m
fine, sorry I didn’t text you back. I guess my phone was on
vibrate
.
You don’t have to come home. Really. Everything’s fine.” I start to think he
can’t hear me over the noise of the jet, because he doesn’t respond right away.

“Something’s
wrong. I hear it in your voice. You sound scared.” Shit, now what am I supposed
to say? I sound scared because I am, but I can’t tell him I’m scared of
him
.

“Uh
no, why would I be scared? I just don’t want you to rush back. You have
business there, and I’m fine.”

“Holland,
if someone is making you say these things, just say yes right now, okay, baby?”

“Huh?”