Page 99 of Sweet Chaos
“This is Dylan St. Clair.”
He huffed out a laugh that did not sound merry. “What do you want?”
His surly tone nearly had me ending the call but if I were in his shoes, I would have acted a hell of a lot worse, so I forged on. “I want you to call Scarlett. She could use a friend.”
“You broke her heart, didn’t you?” he accused.
“If it makes you feel any better, she broke mine.” And when the words were out, I realized just how true that was. It hurt like a motherfucker. I needed to get her back. My life was emptier without her. Not even scoring a victory over Simon Woods could fill the heart-shaped hole she had left. I missed her. Had been missing her for a long time. Maybe for longer than I realized. Because even when she was a teen and far too young for me and off-limits, I had felt something for her that I never should have.
A part of me had always been missing Scarlett. Maybe that’s why I’d gotten her a job working for Shane. And it was why I’d pursued her, knowing it was wrong, yet it had felt so right.
“She didn’t mean to, but it happened anyway,” I said, giving him more information than he deserved.
He was silent for a moment. “Well, damn. Didn’t see that coming.”
That’s life. You don’t always see it coming. And then it hits you like a fucking freight train. “If you ever cared about her at all, give her a call and be a fucking friend.”
I stopped short of adding,Justa friend. Pretty sure that went without saying.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, suspicious.
I thought about Scarlett’s wall of photos, all her happy memories. Ollie was in most of them. The other guys from the band were in a lot of them too. And Nic. At one time, they’d all been close. They’d had the kind of friendship I’d never had when I was growing up and in high school. I’d never let anyone get that close. Cruz was my only real friend and we hadn’t met until college. Scarlett’s friends were important to her, and she was important to me. I’d stop at nothing to get her everything her heart desired, even if it meant apologizing to Shaggy Doo who didn’t entirely deserve it, if you asked me.
“She misses you and I fucked up that friendship for her.”Suck it up, Dylan. I cleared my throat, the words getting stuck. “Sorry about that,” I said grudgingly.
Not exactly a grovel but it was pretty damn close.
“You really do love her,” he said, sounding amazed.
“Looks that way. Call her. Be a friend.” I cut the call. No need for small talk or a friendly chat with Shaggy Doo. That would be pushing it. I’d extended the olive branch and it was up to him what he decided to do about it. Guess we’d see whether or not he was a true friend.
My final stop was the Woods’ residence. This should be fun. I had never once walked through the front door of their Tudor McMansion. It had approximately one hundred rooms and looked like it belonged in the Black Forest, not in the heart of SoCal. But it was fake. A new-build mock Tudor meant to look like something it wasn’t. Since Margot Woods had never worked a day in her life, I knew she’d either be home or at the nail salon or at the club, drinking Chardonnay and gossiping with her so-called friends.
I pressed the doorbell and heard the chimes playing inside. It sounded like a funeral dirge. The door opened and the smile on Margot’s face slid off when she saw who was standing on her doorstep.
“What do you want?” she hissed, her eyes narrowed on me. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
I wasn’t done yet, so no, apparently not. I brushed past her and her jaw dropped. It took her a moment to recover. By the time she did, I was already prowling through the house, checking out the hideous décor. Being rich didn’t equate to having good taste, that was for damn sure.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, bustling after me. “I’m going to call the police and report you for breaking and entering.”
Not the brightest spark, was she? “I didn’t break in. You answered the door,” I pointed out as I stalked through the living room and stopped in the dining room. An ornately carved table sat in the middle, big enough to seat eighteen, by the looks of it. Just for fun, I pulled out the chair at the head of the table. It weighed at least twenty pounds, also ornately carved with a red velvet upholstered seat that I parked my ass in.
“Is this where you have your family dinners?” I asked conversationally.
She was so bewildered that she nodded. “Yes. Why?”
I surveyed the room. The glass-fronted dark wood cabinet that held shelves of what I was sure was fine bone china, crystal glasses, tureens and shit I didn’t even have a name for. My eyes raised to the crystal chandelier hanging from the forest green ceiling and finally to the coat of arms and gilt-framed paintings of horses and landscapes on the green and gold papered walls. Sitting in this room that smelled like furniture polish and the souls of dead ancestors, I was beginning to understand why Sienna had never invited me for a family dinner. Not only would I have embarrassed her by not knowing which fork to use, I would have felt like I was suffocating. Wasn’t hard to see why Scarlett had wanted to break away and distance herself from all this pretentious bullshit.
I rose from the table and continued my house tour with Margot trotting after me, wringing her bejeweled hands.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asked as I poked my head into what I assumed was the library, judging by the bookcases filled with leather-bound books that nobody in this house had probably ever read. I ran my hand over the mahogany bar and scanned the bottles of top shelf liquor. Then I stalked down the labyrinth of hallways until I came to the enormous kitchen with its oak cupboards and marble countertops. I ended my tour outside on the limestone patio overlooking the Woods’ swimming pool. The pool I used to clean the summer I was seventeen when I thought this house was grand and beautiful and beyond anything I’d ever imagined in my wildest dreams.
Funny how time changes your perception of everything. The pool looked smaller to me now, the water not as crystal blue, the grass not as green. If I wanted to, I could buy this house or one just like it. I didn’t want to. But Icould. As I stood under the blazing sun, the air scented with orange blossoms from the potted trees on the patio, a scent I remembered so well, I realized that I’d come a long way. Once upon a time, I didn’t think I was good enough for Sienna. I thought that because these people had money, they were better than me and that I really was the worthless piece of shit Simon had always accused me of being.
Choosing Sienna had been my way of giving him the middle finger. We’d been with each other for all the wrong reasons. Whereas with Scarlett, I’d chosen her because I actually liked her. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me. And I loved her for who she was as a person, not for what she represented. Scarlett had opened my eyes, had made me see my life so much more clearly. Where I’d come from had nothing to do with who I was today.
Still an asshole, always would be, but an asshole who was in love with a girl and wanted to give her the fucking world. If only she would see that we were always meant to be.
