Reparation (22 page)

“That you used it without my knowledge, that you used it to get away from me, that you used it to fly to
him
..., I don't even know where to start,” he hissed. She tried to pull away.

“It's not a big deal, Jameson,” she insisted. He yanked on her arm and she stumbled forward.

“Apparently it's a big fucking deal, if you feel like you have to lie to me! Sneaking around this house like a fucking shadow! I'm surprised you're even taking this!” he yelled, holding up her hand with the pearls in it. “Of course, you used me for my money. I suppose it's not a leap to assume you'd use my gifts. It is worth a lot of money, you could get far on it.”

“I wasn't going to take them!” Tate shouted back, offended that he thought she would use him like that – he was the one who equated everything with a price, not her.

“Sure fucking looks like it! But by all means, go ahead, you certainly earned them!” he snapped. Tate gasped.

“
Fuck you, Kane!
” she hissed, then she gripped the necklace between both hands and yanked. Pearls flew around the room.

“Lost out on a lot of money, baby girl. Your boyfriend certainly won't be able to pay for you the way I have,” Jameson said softly.

She was out on the porch before he caught up with her. Tate halfway expected him to grab her, to pick her up and carry her inside. But he didn't. He hurried down the steps alongside her, matching her step for step as she headed towards the cars.

“Just let me go,” she insisted, walking next to the Jag. He finally grabbed her, pulled her to a stop.

“We are long past that. So what happened to promises, huh? You won't freak out, right?
Wrong
. I knew you'd fucking do this. The minute shit gets real, you fucking flip. Have you ever stuck anything out? Ever given anyone the benefit of the doubt?” he demanded. She slapped at his arm.

“Sure, when they're not the goddamn devil!” she yelled back.

“
I am not the devil!
If anyone here is the devil, it's
you!
You lied to me!
You goddamn liar!
” Jameson shouted. Tate got up in his face.

“You lied first! Such sweet words, 'o
nly you, Tatum. It was only ever you
',” she mocked him. “Hadn't slept with a soul, you were '
waiting for
' me.
Bullshit.
”

“I never lied, but what about you? You said Nick was nothing, that there was no relationship, yet you always call on him, don't you? Looks real fucking suspicious,” he snapped. She steeled her nerves, willed away the tears.

“Your lies are worse,” she hissed. “Why don't you just go be with her!? You obviously can't stay away from each other.”

“I wasn't with her. I don't want her. I want
you,
” he replied through clenched teeth. She shook her head.

“Well, too bad, cause I don't want you,” she told him.

“Don't lie to me, Tatum.”

“I'm not. It was always just fun, wasn't it? It's not a big deal, we can just -,”

“Stop lying.”

“It's just sex! You don't even give a fuck, you couldn't care if I -,”

Jameson let out a shout and slammed the side of his fist against the car window. It shattered and Tate shrieked, throwing her hands up. Blood ran down the side of his palm, dripping onto the ground, but he looked like he didn't even notice. He stared down at her, his eyes on fire.

“
Stop. Fucking. Lying,
” he growled. She glared up at him.

“Look.
It's over
. I'm going. This, whatever it is, is
over
.
Deal with it,
” she told him, then turned around and strode towards the Bentley.

“Does he know!?” Jameson called out, following her. “Did your boyfriend help you plan this? Or are you surprising him, too?” She managed a laugh, wiping at her eyes.

“Always about you, isn't it.”

“You fucking make it that way, not me. Does he know you like I do? Does he know that at the first hint of trouble, you're going to flip the fuck out? Does he know that you'll use him, lie to him, then leave him?” he demanded, hurrying around and getting in front of her, stopping her mid-stride. She took a shuddering breath.

“He knows me
better
than you,” she told him. Rage washed over his face.

“
Not
possible
. So what kind of lie did you tell him? You said you loved me; what kind of lies does he get to hear?” Jameson said in a deadly soft voice.

“
They're not lies when I say them to him,
” Tate whispered back.

Both Jameson's hands were around her neck, shoving her back into the side of the Bentley. She grunted, his thumbs digging into the sensitive skin under her chin. She glared at him and he leaned in close, forcing her back over the hood, his forearms pressed against her chest.

“
Don't fucking say that to me,
” he hissed. She lifted her hands, slowly gripped onto his wrists.

“But you hate it when I lie,” she pointed out. His fingers tightened on her neck.

“You weren't lying when you said those things to me,” he said. She raised an eyebrow.

“You're so sure?” Tate whispered.

Jameson stared at her for a long time. His eyes seemed to wander over every inch of her skin. She didn't care. This would be the last time she saw him, the last time she got to touch him. Now that it was upon her, she didn't want it to end. A tear finally slipped out, sliding over her temple, into her hair.

“Sure enough,” he whispered back. She took a shaky breath.

“
Liar.
”

He let her go then, and she stumbled forward. He backed away and stared down at her, shoving his hands into his front pockets. When she stood upright, he continued staring at her. His eyes were hard, and cold. They threw her back in time, back to that first night. Back to him forcing her out of his apartment, looking at her like she was insignificant. Like she was
nothing
. She gasped, choked on a sob. Her eyes filled up with tears at the same time Sanders hurried up to them.

“Is everything alright?” he breathed, standing next to Jameson. Tate couldn't answer. Just kept staring into her past.

“Perfectly fine, Sanders,” Jameson's clipped voice rang out. “Tatum would like to leave. By all means, take her wherever she'd like to go.”

“Sir, I think you should -,”

“
Goodbye
, Tatum. And good luck. Though somehow, I don't think you'll need it,” Jameson finished, and then strode off back into the house.

“Are you hurt?” Sanders asked. She shook her head.

“Just my heart,” she whispered. He frowned down at her.

“Would you like me to -,”

“No. I just want to leave. Let's go,” Tate replied, then turned and opened the car door.

As she slid into her seat, she couldn't help but remember the last time she had run away from him, from that house. She stared out the window. It was nighttime, again, and she was in the Bentley, again. But this time it was her choice, not his; and not a bottle of whiskey and xanax.

Sure it is, baby girl. But if it's your choice, how come you're leaving one very important piece of property in that house?

“What?” she breathed out loud, just before Sanders got into the car as well.

Your soul.

Of course, she hadn't planned on just immediately flying off. Tate had booked a hotel room for three days. She went and saw her sister, said goodbye to her and the baby. She wouldn't be gone forever, just for a while. Long enough to get over him a little. She had never let herself do that before, it would be a hard road.

Ang thought she was being abso-fuckin-lutely stupid. When he had crossed over to the dark side, she didn't know. Ang hated Jameson – why was he calling her stupid for leaving him? She pointed this out to him.

“Because, you stupid bitch, you're in love with him. And in his own creepy, sadistic, satanic way, he sorta kinda loves you back. Why are you doing this!? Because some slutty model tells a lie about him!?” Ang demanded.

“She's probably not lying, but no, it's not just about that, there's a lot of other stuff I realized. Some things ..., just aren't meant to be,” she told him.

“Tater tot, you two have been dancing around each other for seven years. I'd say it's pretty fuckin' meant to be.”

Tate threatened to refuse to see him before she left, so he calmed down. Ang gave one last loud speech about how stupid she was being, and how it was the worst idea ever, and how Nick Castille was one of the most boring people he had ever met, and then he didn't say another word on the subject. Just held her and cuddled her while she cried.

And cried, and cried, and cried.

Surprisingly, Sanders stayed with her the whole time. Her hotel room had double beds, so he didn't even book another room, just laid down across from her. He never went home, and Jameson never even called. She would wake up at five in the morning to find Sanders ironing his suit. It would have been funny, if the idea of never seeing him do stuff like that again hadn't been so goddamn sad

“You don't have to stay here,” she told him on her last night. He was sitting in a chair, pulled up next to a bed, facing the TV. Tate was stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He shrugged.

“I know that. I would like to stay,” he replied.

“To the bitter end?” she laughed.

“To the bitter end.”

“You can't take me to the airport, I probably wouldn't be able to stop crying long enough to find my plane,” she joked.

“Then I should definitely take you.”

“Sandy,” she warned.

“There is time to go back. Time to fix this,” he assured her, his eyes trained on the TV. It was on mute.

“No. That time passed a long time ago,” Tate told him. He shook his head.

“No. He's upset, but he would forgive you. He is very forgiving,” he said.

“I don't want to be forgiven. I shouldn't need to be, for feeling a certain way. There is nothing wrong with not wanting to be with someone. It's horrible, and it's sad, and it hurts – but it's not
wrong,
” she explained.

“It is when it's all a lie, though, and you're doing it just to hurt somebody,” Sanders pointed out. She frowned.

“You think that's why I'm doing this? Just to hurt him? Sandy, he'd have to have a heart, first, before I could hurt it,” she snapped.

“He has a heart. He has shown it to me many times. You, however, have been purposefully blind to it.”

Ouch, okay, that kinda hurts
.

“It was always more sex than anything. He said that a dozen times, maybe a hundred times. He just wanted me for sex, I was only supposed to be sex to him, just sex, sex, sex. Do you understand how that makes me feel?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

He had taken off his jacket, and his arms were folded across his chest, bunching up his tie. She was wearing her underwear and a loose tank top. Normal evening wear for the pair.

“You wanted that relationship as well, in the beginning. You changed it, and he went along with it. It was never entirely about something as ridiculous as sex,” Sanders told her. She laughed.

“Sandy, there was nothing ridiculous about the sex Jameson and I had,” she snickered. He frowned.

“I shall take your word for it.”

“That's another thing that sucks about this whole situation,” she said, looking back up at the ceiling.

“What?”

“Sex. I think he's kinda ruined me for other men.”

“
Good.
”

“Stop. How am I supposed to ever have a normal relationship? Hard to do that, when there's only one person I can think about having sex with,” she sighed.

“You could just be having sex with
him
, problem solved.”

“
Sandy.
”

“Not everything is about sex, Tatum. The world does not revolve around it.”

“It kinda does.”

“You make it that way.
He
makes it that way. But it doesn't have to be.”

“It's hard with a person like him. He makes me feel like that's all I'm good for, all I'm worth to him, so I feel guilty, but then it's
so good
, I can't stop wanting it, so I feel even guiltier. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever had sex like that?” Tate asked, putting her hands behind her head.

“No,” Sanders finally replied after a long pause.

“Well, okay, but like ..., you've had really good sex, and it's basically like that. Imagine the best sex you've ever had, and then imagine that person treating you like trash,” she urged. He was silent for a long time.

“I can't do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I can't.”

It hit her like a lightening bolt. She sat straight upright. Turned her head to face him.

“Sandy ..., are you a
virgin!?
” she exclaimed. His neck turned bright pink, but he didn't look at her.

“There is nothing wrong with that,” he said quickly.

Oh. My. God.

It made complete sense. If anything, the idea of Sanders having sex was actually weirder than the idea of a twenty year old virgin. But he was right, a large chunk of Tatum's world revolved around sex. She just assumed
everyone
had done it, including him.
Especially
him. He was wealthy and he was good looking; those two things alone would make women overlook his personality quirks and social oddities. She had
watched
women overlook them. Why had Sanders never taken the leap!? Tate was shocked that Jameson hadn't simply hired a hooker and locked the two of them in a room together.

Kinky.

She suddenly felt so guilty. For touching him inappropriately. For parading her body around in front of him, for flaunting her sexuality.
God
, all the times he had walked in on her and Jameson. She had thought it was funny. She had assumed that none of it was anything he hadn't seen and done before, himself. It must have made him so uncomfortable.

“No, no, of course there's nothing wrong with that,” she agreed quickly. “I'm just surprised, that's all.”

“Why?”

“Just ..., because. I hate to tell you this, Sanders, but you're kinda hot. And the way you spend money -,” Tate started.

“
Jameson's
money,” Sanders corrected her.

“Doesn't matter to chicks, they love that shit. Sexy guy in an expensive suit dropping money, that's all they see. I just assumed ... I figured ... I mean, Jameson ...,” she stammered. He cleared his throat.

“Jameson hasn't questioned me on the matter. Just because he is promiscuous does not mean I am going to be,” he assured her.

'Going to be'. So he has plans to lose it someday.

“Why have you waited so long?” she pressed, swinging around and sitting cross-legged style, facing him. He still refused to look at her.

“I ...,
am
uncomfortable
. Around people, in general. Women, specifically. I am also a perfectionist. I don't like to rush into things,” he explained. She laughed.

“I guess that's good,” she chuckled.

“I am also strange. I am aware of this, I just don't care. But women do. I don't want it to be an issue, when the time comes. I want it to be ..., perfect,” he told her.

“Awww, that's kinda romantic,” Tate sighed.

“You're wrong. I don't mean perfect as in waiting for true love to come along. I mean perfect as in as soon as I have studied everything on the issue and am confident in my abilities,” Sanders clarified.

Oh my. He's going to study? For losing his virginity?

“You could hire somebody. I mean, I'm not saying that to be rude, just like ..., someone who has done it before, a lot. Someone who knows what they're doing,” she suggested quickly.

“I have thought of this. It is a very viable option.”

Someone who knows the ropes.

“Sandy,” Tate suddenly breathed, pushing herself to the edge of the bed.

“Hmmm?”

She stood up and walked towards him.

“I was seventeen when I lost my virginity,” she said softly.

“Yes, I know. Jameson has told me.”

“Did he tell you it was awful? It was with my first boyfriend, and I didn't even really like him. He was horrible in bed, but I didn't know that then, and he was horrible for a first time. I didn't know what I was doing, he didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't care. It was over before I even knew what was happening,” she told him. He frowned.

“See, that is what I am trying to avoid.”

“Jameson was the second person I ever had sex with, and he knew
exactly
what he was doing. It was
so much
better.
The best thing ever,
” she said. Sanders nodded.

“I'm sure. Sounds like a much better experience.”

“Sanders.
I
have a lot of experience.”

His eyes snapped to hers.

“Excuse me?”

She stood in front of him.

“I have a lot of experience. I've been told I'm pretty good at it. I like you. I want you to feel good. I would want it to be special,” she whispered. He held up a hand.

“No.
No.
The very idea is repug -,”

Tate put her hand on his mouth and straddled his legs. Sat down on his lap. Sanders stared at her, wide eyed. She almost laughed. He looked terrified. Sure, they were very close. They cuddled, slept next to each other, and he had seen her in many various stages of undress. But this was different. She was almost pressed against his chest, in a very intimate manner. She could feel,
see
, his breathing pick up.

“First of all, telling a woman she is '
repugnant
', is a definite turn off,” she  hold him. She let go of his mouth.

“
You're
not repugnant, the
idea
is. Please get off of me,” he urged, his arms hanging rigidly at his sides. She ran her hands up his chest. He was very solid and firm.

“Second of all, you should never look a gift horse in the mouth. Women are very fickle. One minute, you think you're getting laid. The next minute, she's yanking those panties up and stomping off. You should take it where you can get it,” she suggested. He squirmed under her weight.

“We can't do this.”

“We can do anything we want.”

“Jameson would kill me,” Sanders stressed, his eyes looking past her, at the wall. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“No, he wouldn't. He would probably congratulate you. Pat you on the back. Then you could swap stories,” Tate teased. Sanders shook his head.

“No. He would kill me. He loves me, but he loves you more,” he whispered.

Tate couldn't handle that, handle those words. She yanked him forward and kissed him.

She had actually kissed Sanders quite a few times. Always in a silly manner, just to make him blush, or to make Jameson laugh. Now, knowing what she knew, she felt awful. God, what if she had been his first kiss!? Had she ruined that for him!? Selfish, thoughtless bitch. She would make up for it.

She moved her hands up to cup his jaw, holding him gently. He hadn't moved. Hadn't kissed her back. She gave a soft moan, pressing her lips to his once again. Twice. On the third time, she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue. Knowing that she was the only one to have ever done so sent a shiver down her spine.

Sanders cracked. His arms went around her waist and he leaned into her, his tongue diving into her mouth. She gasped at the intensity of his kiss, almost slid backwards off his legs. His hands were flat against the back of her hips and he yanked her forward, forcing her flush against him.

Strong. He's so strong. Why do I never remember that?

It was over almost as quickly as it started. He got control of his breathing, pulled his mouth away from hers. She pressed her forehead to his, her hands still holding onto him. His fingers were digging into her hips, almost painfully. She panted against him, watching him. He cleared his throat, but kept his eyes closed.