Wicked Envy Page 2

  “What’s up, man?” I say, and his head pops up. An easy smile comes to his face because that’s just the way Andrew is. Happy, chill, and hardly ever in a bad mood, I kid you not.

  “Morning,” he says cheerily.

  “Avril’s not in yet,” I reply, stepping fully into his office.

  “Weird, right?” Andrew says, but he doesn’t seem overly bothered. “Maybe her alarm didn’t go off or something.”

  “I guess,” I say with a shrug and decide not to worry about it. It’s still an hour before the main doors open, and it’s not like we have set work hours for the executives. We all work upward of eighty hours a week, so no one gives a fuck if you decide to have a lazy morning.

  Except… that’s not like Avril.

  Andrew doesn’t respond, but that’s only because our attention is taken by the sound of our phones chiming with simultaneous texts. I pull my phone out of my pocket while Andrew nabs his from the desk. I see it’s a text from Avril addressed to us both.

  Won’t be in today.

  Andrew’s gaze snaps back to me, and his eyes are immediately filled with concern when they lock with mine. Avril has never—and I mean never—just taken a day off without some type of long-term planning. She’s never taken a sick day, once working through the flu while puking at her desk. Never taken a mental-health day. Never played hooky to go catch a ball game. She’s not just the hardest-working woman I know, but the hardest-working person.

  Period.

  Sometimes, I think she should be the president and CEO of this company rather than just the chief operations officer, because she’s just that fucking phenomenal.

  “I’m going to her house,” Andrew says as he pushes from his desk chair.

  “I’m coming with you,” I say without hesitation as I turn for the door and precede him out of it.

  No way in hell Avril can possibly think to send a text like that and we wouldn’t come running, although I know she’s going to be pissed when we show up on her doorstep.

  ♦

  Avril lives in Summerlin. I know the area well because my house is also in this suburb, but mine is much larger and cost a few million more. Andrew doesn’t like a lot of space and prefers a condo in the city, but he spends ample time at my house or Avril’s nonetheless.

  Andrew pulls in first, and I park right behind him. We drove separately because circumstances might require one of us to stay and one of us to get back to the office.

  Avril’s house reflects her personality. Modern, sleek lines and minimalist design. Built of brown stucco and stacked stone, it looks like someone laid three levels of different-sized boxes on top of one another. Her landscaping is almost “barren” with her front yard comprised of brown gravel and a few cacti. The only nod to any real color is her swimming pool in the back, which she religiously swims in morning and night for exercise.

  Given the simplicity of design, it really stands out that there are three large suitcases on the front porch, several boxes on the concrete walkway leading from the driveway to the front door, and a pile of clothing dumped near a large agave plant off to the side of the front porch.

  “What the fuck?” I hear Andrew say as I step out of my car. His eyes sweep the front yard for a moment before they narrow determinedly on the front door. He pushes past me. Before he can even reach the front porch, the door opens and Avril comes out, carrying another large box through.

  She sees Andrew immediately and comes to an abrupt halt.

  And then she sways backward slightly, seemingly corrects herself, only to sway forward a bit. Her eyes look glassy and bloodshot. The thick crop of blond bangs that normally come down to her eyebrows is slicked back with sweat, the rest of her hair pulled into a lopsided ponytail.

  “What are you two doing here?” she asks, and the aggressiveness in her tone doesn’t hide the slightest of slurs.

  “Are you drunk?” Andrew returns, his face aghast at what he sees. Neither of us can remember the last time we’d seen Avril drink to excess. Was it college?

  “Unfortunately, I’m sobering up,” she replies dryly and drops the box on the front porch. She then turns around and walks back inside.

  Andrew and I quickly follow her in. Avril heads straight to a wet bar that separates the kitchen and living room in the open-space design. She starts pulling glasses out from underneath—wineglasses, martini glasses, beer mugs—and drops them unceremoniously into a box on the floor. Each one shatters as it meets gravity.

  “What the hell is going on?” Andrew practically growls as he goes to Avril. He catches her wrist before she can toss another glass into the box.

  Even through the glaze in her eyes, I can see a tinge of fire starting to flicker. Still, her voice is somewhat controlled as she says, “I’m cleaning out some stuff.”

  “Looks like it is most of Jamie’s stuff you’re cleaning out,” I observe as I stroll over to the box on the floor and look inside at the shattered glass. It’s Jamie’s personal bar set he brought when he moved in with Avril almost two years ago. He likes to entertain and have all his friends over whenever possible.

  “Pretty much,” she says with a snicker that in no way sounds amused, but rather bitter. She reaches for another glass, but Andrew deftly takes it from her hand. After sitting it on the bar, he grabs onto her elbow and steers her into the living room. Right to the couch where he gives her a tiny push on her chest to make her fall onto the cushion. Avril immediately slumps back with a sigh, and that tells me she has no fight in her.

  I move to stand on the other side of the coffee table opposite of her while Andrew sits down beside her. He lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. “Talk to us, Av. What’s going on?”

  Her head drops, which conceals her eyes, and she sighs. Twirling her fingers around one another while holding her hands on her lap, she says, “I caught Jamie cheating on me last night.”

  “Fucking prick,” I mutter as I round the coffee table to sit on the edge, my knees just inches from Avril’s.

  Andrew’s face goes red with fury. “How did you find out?”

  Avril raises her face, and her gaze looks a little sharper. “I wasn’t due in from my trip to San Diego until today, but I managed to get out early. When I got in last night, he was right there in our bed.”

  “Cunt,” I mutter, because prick is too nice.

  “He was with a girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty-one if she was even that old,” Avril says softly, gaze dropping back down. “All smooth skin and bendable limbs.”

  “I’ll kill him,” Andrew vows, his hand going from Avril’s shoulder to curve around the back of her neck.

  He pulls her into his side, and she capitulates. I envy the physical affection Andrew and Avril have always been able to show each other over the years a little bit. It’s totally platonic, but there’s something intimate about it. It’s caused some sparks of jealousy that he has just a slightly better connection with her than I do in that respect, but I try not to let it bother me too much. I’m simply incapable of that type of outward affection, although I love Avril deeply. Just as I love Andrew.

  Sadly, having been raised for years inside the foster system, bouncing from house to house with families that didn’t really want me but just the money they got for taking care of me, I was never taught how to hug.

  Or cuddle.

  Or have whispered conversations with a confidant.

  Those things are painful for me. I know because I’ve tried to do them, and it’s just not something that falls within my natural abilities. So, I try to compensate by letting my two best friends and business partners know how much I like them, respect them, and depend on them. I don’t hold myself back when we’re together or alone, having told them all my secrets about the way I grew up long before we all graduated from Berkley. I’m better with simple words of affirmation than I am with touching or sentiments.

  And because they know me so well, they didn’t try to hug it out with me when they heard some of the wors
t of it. Andrew merely gave me a light punch on the shoulder and said, “Made you stronger, dude.”

  Avril smiled at me in that understanding way and said, “Don’t let your past define you. But also, only be true to yourself.”

  Those words were cryptic and at odds, but I’ve followed that advice as best I could over the years.

  “Where’s Jamie now?” Andrew asks.

  “I made him leave last night, of course,” Avril says. “Told him I’d have his stuff ready to pick up by the end of the day. When I closed the door behind him, I hit a few bottles of wine while I packed.”

  “So, you’re just throwing it all out the front door?” I ask with a chuckle. For the first time, I see Avril’s lips curve up slightly.

  “I didn’t tell Jamie what condition his stuff would be in,” she tells me with a sly smirk. “Just that it would be ready for him to pick up.”

  Then she shrugs. “I was really drunk when I started packing his stuff up and carting it outside. You two are sort of downers, and now I’m losing my buzz. I probably need another drink.”

  “No, you don’t,” Andrew and I say at the same time.

  Avril purses her lips and whines. “Not fair.”

  “I’ll make some coffee,” Andrew says as he pushes off the couch. “Then Dane and I are going to stay and help you finish. Then you’re coming into the office so you’re not here when he picks up his stuff.”

  “There’s not much more to do,” Avril says as she stands with a regretful sigh. “Just his musical instruments upstairs.”

  Jamie Priest considers himself a proficient musician and plays in a local band with a bunch of other stuffy white-collars who think it makes them marginally cooler. Avril had been dating Jamie for over three years. It’s the first time since I’ve known her that she’s been in love. In college, she seemed too awkward, and then she was just too devoted to Caterva to bother to date seriously. But in the last few years, she’s settled into her own. When she was introduced to the talented plastic surgeon by a mutual friend, it didn’t take her long to fall.

  Personally, though, I sensed something wasn’t right because otherwise that fucker would have proposed to her by now. I’m sorry… but if you date a woman like Avril for three years and live with her for two of that without moving it to the next stage? Well, someone’s not fully invested in the relationship.

  Avril would have said yes in a heartbeat because she’s more than once lamented her advancing age—although I roll my eyes at that since she’s only thirty-seven and that’s by no means decrepit—and that she wants to have children at some point before her ovaries dry up. Jamie knew she’d say yes, too, so it’s telling he never asked.

  “You good with staying here?” I ask Andrew as I follow him and Avril into her kitchen. “I’ll head back into the office and cover.”

  “Sure, man,” Andrew says lightly as he starts to work her state-of-the-art espresso maker. Another pinprick of envy hits me that Andrew is far more at home in Avril’s house than I am, and it’s just sort of naturally assumed he’ll be the one to take care of her.

  But I don’t let that consume too many of my thoughts because I can be her white knight in a different way. It won’t be visible to her or Andrew, but it will make me feel fucking fantastic.

  I intend to be here when Jamie comes to pick up his stuff, and he’s going to regret I’m the one he’s dealing with.

  CHAPTER 2

  Avril

  I walk toward Andrew’s office. It’s a Friday night, and I would ordinarily be spending it with Jamie. Of course, that was my old life. Since I dumped his personal contents on my front lawn three days ago, I’ve been telling myself I have great things ahead of me. And while I believe my own hype, it doesn’t stop my chest from aching over the way he betrayed me.

  I honestly thought he was the one. I clearly couldn’t have been more wrong.

  About ten feet from the open doorway to Andrew’s office, I hear Dane’s deep baritone voice from within. “Come on, buddy… You have got to get back up on the horse. Your dick is going to shrivel up and fall off from lack of use.”

  I choke down a sharp laugh, positioning myself just to the side of the doorjamb so neither of the men can see me. I have no qualms with leaning against the wall and eavesdropping on my two best friends discussing their love lives.

  “It’s not like I’m celibate,” Andrew tells Dane.

  “Oh yeah,” Dane says with just the right amount of snark. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

  Andrew doesn’t respond, but I can hear him shuffling papers around on his desk.

  Dane gives a bark of a laugh and taunts his friend. “Just as I thought… You can’t even remember the last time.”

  I can absolutely imagine the look on Andrew’s face. A mixture of disgruntlement and pure embarrassment. It almost makes me feel sorry for him. But honestly, over the years, it’s become sort of a tradition for Dane to egg Andrew on and try to push him out of his comfort zone. I suppose that applies to sex as well.

  “You’re coming with me to The Wicked Horse tonight,” Dane says. “It’s high time you experienced the best debauchery that Vegas has to offer.”

  “I don’t need a sex club,” Andrew grumbles. “I’m perfectly fine finding a woman on my own.”

  “No doubt you are,” Dane says in a somber tone. “But why not go somewhere where it’s a lot easier?”

  At this point, I decide to help Andrew out of his discomfort so I push off the wall and walk into his office. I pretend not to notice Andrew’s flaming-red face as he visibly wonders if I was listening to them. Dane just shoots me a wink as I plop down in the chair next to him.

  “How are you doing?” Dane asks me gingerly, and it’s not a general request. He wants to know how I’m really doing.

  I give a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve moved on.”

  Dane turns in his chair and leans toward me, placing an elbow on the armrest. “For all outward appearances, sure. The last three days you’ve shown up to the office earlier than ever, produced brilliantly flawless work, and you did it all with a smile on your face. But I’m asking again… How are you doing?”

  I grit my teeth because I don’t want to talk about Jamie. While I know Andrew and Dane have the best intentions and they are truly only worried about me, it’s a complete embarrassment that my relationship failed and I didn’t see it coming. And I am not about to tell them that because I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do about these terrible feelings Jamie has caused within me. Because in addition to the sadness and heartbreak, I am pissed. I’m so angry with Jamie right now for doing something so stupid to ruin us that I’ve had a low burning in my stomach that won’t go away.

  “Come on, Avril,” Andrew adds. “Lay your pain out. There’s nothing you can’t share with us.”

  This is true. I would share most anything with either of these men. Being my best friends is not just a title. They are the two beings I trust most in this world. They are as close, if not closer, to me than family.

  But just because I love them dearly does not mean I want to share my feelings with them right now, particularly when my anger is at the boiling point and I’m more likely to erupt like a volcano. My friends don’t need to see that because it serves no purpose and besides, I’m tougher than that. After I can process and figure out my mistakes, the anger will go away. Because let’s face it… I’m as angry at myself as I am at Jamie.

  And the best way to avoid sharing with my buds is to deflect.

  I turn my gaze to Andrew and give him a little smirk. “I’d rather continue the discussion about you not getting laid in at least a century.”

  Dane makes a pointed cough into his hand. Andrew glares at him briefly before turning back to me. “Since when are you two so interested in my sex life?”

  “Dude,” Dane says as he leans back in the chair and casually crosses one leg over his other. “You are my best friend. Why would I not care about your sex life?”

  “I
care about your sex life, too,” I say with a somber nod of my head. “It makes the world go ’round, so you need to jump on that ride.”

  Andrew’s mouth drops open in astonishment, and I’m sure it’s because he thinks this is awkward territory to talk about given the fact I’d caught Jamie in bed with another woman just a few days ago. But honestly, I’ve pretty much determined the sex wasn’t broken in our relationship. Our sex life was active and very healthy. I’m adventurous and Jamie had a smile on his face most nights he went to bed, so I know it’s not from a lack of sex.

  A quick look at Dane shows me he already knows this is a fact—that sex does make the world go ’round. I suspect this is because of his membership to The Wicked Horse. It’s an exclusive sex club here in Vegas that he’s belonged to since it opened three years ago. It’s not like he boasts about his conquests there because, honestly, we don’t have time to talk about that shit. But he doesn’t keep it secret either, and it’s never bothered me. I’m pretty sure it’s never bothered Andrew either, or at least it didn’t until Dane invited him to go just now.

  “Andrew,” I say to get his attention. “You should go to The Wicked Horse with Dane. I mean, why wouldn’t you take advantage of that?”

  “I don’t know—” he hems, but Dane cuts him off.

  Leaning forward, he puts his elbows on his knees and looks at Andrew across the desk. His eyes are filled with an earnestness I’ve seen often from Dane. He’s such a genuine person. When he gets that look in his eye, you really listen to what he’s saying. “Trust me, buddy. It’s a liberating experience. Walking in a place like that, knowing it’s filled with nothing but likeminded people. You can’t imagine the freedom of knowing that what happens in that building will make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before. Knowing when you walk out of that building, your life goes on the same but your smile is bigger, your strut cockier.”

  Andrew snickers at this, but I’m a bit awestruck by Dane’s words. He’s not done yet, and his voice lowers an octave. “It’s hedonism without guilt. It’s unshackling yourself from inhibition. It’s about truly discovering exactly who you are, and, more importantly, you’ll come out liking what you find out. When you let go like that, all of your troubles will just seem to melt away.”