Club Abbott: Pretend You're Mine (Club Abbott Series #1) Read online

  I followed him, not because I really wanted to investigate the situation further, but because it seemed like the right thing to do.

  “Hey,” he said.

  The girls took their time turning around. “Hello.”

  Now that we were in front of them, I could see that they were twins. And they looked kind of familiar, but I couldn’t place them.

  “Have you come by to thank us for the free drink?” one of them asked, a self-satisfied smile on her face.

  “No,” Christophe said. “I came to ask why you would send us such disgusting shots?”

  “Leave a bad taste in your mouth, did it?” the other one asked.

  “Yeah, it fucking did,” he said. “I don’t know what my friend and I did to deserve such an inhospitable-”

  “See that’s the problem,” the slightly taller one said.

  Christophe raised his eyebrows. “Sorry?”

  The shorter one poured her vodka tonic on his head. “That’s for calling me by my sister’s name when we hooked up.”

  “And that’s for not calling at all,” the taller one said, pouring her matching drink over my head.

  I licked my lips. Yep. Definitely vodka tonic.

  The girls walked away while we wiped our eyes.

  “Ridiculous,” Christophe said, leaning against the bar. “I don’t even remember that.”

  “Me neither,” I said, grabbing a cocktail napkin and pressing it against my wet shirt. “Though I thought they looked vaguely familiar once I saw them up close.”

  “Must’ve met them that night we ended up at Elixir.”

  “Sounds about right,” I said, nodding as I crumpled my napkin and dropped it in one of the empty glasses they left behind.

  “We were doing so well not blacking out until then, too.”

  “Oh well,” I said. “Looks like we dodged a bullet there anyway.”

  “Right?” Christophe shook his head. “As if anyone could tell them apart sober. If anything, I should get an award for remembering either of their names at all.”

  “And I know I didn’t tell her I would call cause I never say that.”

  “Never?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “Not even just to get a girl off your back to make for a smooth getaway?”

  “Never.”

  “I’ve heard you say that, man.”

  “Not for at least three years you haven’t.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Why? What happened three years-” And then he remembered. “Oh right.”

  I took a swig of my beer, increasingly eager to finish it and get the fuck out of there.

  “You haven’t told a girl you’d call since Nadia?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you still fucked up over her?”

  “No.”

  “Really? Cause it kind of seems like you might be if-”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I’m not fucked up over her, okay? Leave it alone already.”

  Christophe sighed. “So here’s an idea.”

  “Shoot.”

  “This place blows and we should never come here again.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So when are we going to start drinking at your club?”

  “As soon as I find a location.”

  “And what about your dad?”

  “What about him?”

  “Have you told him you don’t want to go into the hotel business yet?”

  I shook my head. “There hasn’t been a good time.”

  “I get it,” he said. “I do. There’s never a good time to tell your father you don’t want to take over the family business-”

  “I don’t even know if he wants me to-”

  “Of course he does. Didn’t his dad work in the business?”

  “That was different. My grandpa was a hotel porter, and my dad worked his way up from nothing.”

  “Still. You know as well as I do that it’s crossed his mind.”

  “No I don’t.”

  “If I worked that hard building something, I’d want it to stay in the family, especially if I had a son who was up for it.”

  “Well, I’m not that guy,” I said. “I’ve tried to get passionate about the hotel business. I really have, but I can’t imagine devoting the next sixty years to that place. There’s no challenge in it, ya know? The hard work is done.”

  “So don’t keep putting it off. Tell him you’re going to do your own thing. He’ll respect you for it.”

  “Hopefully. But will he let me use the name?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Why would you? You haven’t built an international brand from the ground up.”

  He shrugged. “All you can do is ask.”

  I nodded. “I’m just waiting for the right time. He has a lot going on right now.”

  “He always has a lot going on.”

  I ran my fingers through my sticky wet hair, feeling grateful that the twins hadn’t been drinking rum and Cokes. “True.”

  “All I’m saying is that I know your club would be the best fucking club in New York, and I’m sick of talking about how great it would be. Let’s get stuck in already.”

  I sighed. “I told you. I haven’t found a location.”

  “If you find a place, then will you tell your dad?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said. “I’d have to act fast.”

  “I want to have New Years in your club this year.”

  “That would be awesome.”

  “He’ll understand,” Christophe said. “My dad did.”

  “It’s not the same. You grew up with your dad. He’s used to you letting him down.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that.”

  I swung my hand against his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But I’ll tell you what, at least he respects me for pursuing my goals.”

  “Supposedly.”

  “What have you ever done to earn your dad’s respect?”

  Chapter 5: Carrie

  I didn’t know where else to go. My parents lived out of state, I hated complaining to Woody, and I’d just sent my goddamn picture into one of the biggest papers in the city so I couldn’t afford to have a public meltdown.

  So I sat in the waiting room at Brook’s office, gripping a magazine in my hand and trying not to rock in my chair.

  Finally, another young woman in mint colored scrubs approached me. “Excuse me, miss. We don’t take walk in’s at this time, but-”

  “I came to see Brook,” I said, lifting my blurry eyes towards her. “Is she here?”

  I don’t know if I looked feral or if the woman sensed my desperation, but she walked away pretty fast.

  Two minutes later, I heard a familiar voice.

  “Carrie, what are you doing here?” Brook asked, removing a pair of disposable gloves and stuffing them in the pocket of her scrubs.

  “I would’ve waited,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you-”

  She sat down next to me, her hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. “It’s cool,” she said, her eyes bouncing back and forth between mine. “You did me a favor. I was in there with Phlegmy Phil, and I was about to kill myself.”

  “Oh.”

  “His phlegm is like skim milk I swear to god-” She furrowed her brow. “Are you okay? You look really pale.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not okay.”

  She put a hand on my back and angled her body towards me. “What’s going on?”

  I swallowed.

  She leaned towards me.

  “Simon-”

  “Oh my god is he okay?” she asked. “Was there an accident-”

  I shook my head again. I couldn’t say it. I’d been in shock all the way over and hadn’t even verbalized what I saw to myself.

  “Carrie-” She lowered her head and tried to look in my eyes. “Use your words. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  I looked up at Brook and
pursed my lips.

  Her face was twisted in a big question mark.

  “It’s over.”

  “Oh honey,” she pulled me to her and squeezed me too hard, just like I needed her to so I could feel something besides the hollow in my belly that used to be full of warmly glowing love. “I’m so sorry.”

  I felt the tears spill from my eyes and fall down my cheeks.

  She didn’t let go.

  I felt my lungs hiccup for breath as I wrapped my hands around her back and tried not to think about the woman who had just done the same to Simon earlier.

  “You kinda smell like puke,” Brook said.

  I pulled back and covered my mouth. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, waving my concern away with her hand. “I probably only noticed cause everything else in here is sterilized to within an inch of its life.” She reached in her pocket and handed me a piece of gum.

  Chewing it made me feel a little better instantly. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was cause I knew I was on my way to smelling less offensive. Or maybe it was because it helped me stop crying for a second.

  Brook furrowed her brow. “So what happened? Did you guys have a fight?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t say it.”

  “Okay…” She raised her eyebrows. “Did it ever happen in a Friend’s episode?”

  I nodded.

  “Go on.”

  “Joey’s dad did it.” My mouth pulled into a frown.

  She narrowed her eyes at me.

  “And Ross did it to Rachel once and she never got over it.”

  She covered her mouth and her eyes started to water as the top of her face bunched like an accordion.

  And I burst into tears again. So much for the miracle gum.

  She put her arms back around me. “Jesus, Carrie, I’ll fucking kill him. I swear to god I will cut off his testicles and put them in his eye sockets.”

  “That would be great,” I said, squeezing my arms around her as the tears fell on her shoulder again, leaving wet spots on her scrubs.

  “Are you absolutely sure?” she said, running her hand over the back of my head.

  “I saw.”

  She straightened her arms out and craned her neck back. “You what?”

  “I saw.”

  She turned an ear closer. “What do you mean you saw?”

  “I tried to go home early to surprise him and-” I gasped for breath. “And-”

  Her eyes were wide. “She was there?”

  I nodded.

  “Were they-”

  I nodded again.

  She laid her hand on my cheek. “What did you do?”

  “I threw up.”

  Her face dropped. “Oh right.”

  “You were right about him, Brook.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Yes you were,” I said, my voice so high and soft it was unrecognizable. “You always thought he was a prick.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is. I should’ve listened to you.”

  “No, Carrie. Don’t say that. You were right to follow your heart.”

  “Obviously I wasn’t,” I said, squeezing my hands between my knees. “Obviously I have a stupid heart that doesn’t know anything.”

  “Shhh.” Brook patted me on the back.

  “You hated him from the moment he showed up at Electric Zoo with zinc on his nose.”

  “So I thought he considered himself a bit precious,” she said. “I never really hated him.”

  “Until now.”

  “Yeah. Now I feel positively murderous, and I’m almost thinking a testicle-eyeball transplant is letting him off too easy.”

  “What about crucifixion?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “He would just get off on all the attention.”

  I started crying again at the thought of him getting off, the memory of his body thrusting under the sheets flashing across the back of my eyelids.

  “Shhhh,” she said, rubbing my back. “Have you told your parents?”

  I let out a sigh so heavy it felt like I’d been carrying it around for days. “No.”

  “There’s no rush.”

  “They’re so innocent. I don’t think they even believe this kind of thing happens outside soap operas, ya know?” I moved the gum to my other cheek. “Plus, my dad’s been shooting again.”

  “Shooting?”

  “Yeah,” I said, holding my own hand in my lap. “Like some guys play golf, but my dad shoots his rifle.”

  “Maybe it’s best not to say anything just yet.”

  “I don’t want to be responsible for murder and adultery.”

  “Hey-” She put a hand on my shoulder. “Look at me.”

  I raised my head, my soaked mascara making my eyelashes stick together as I blinked.

  “This is not your fault.”

  My mouth twisted.

  “I mean it, Carrie. You didn’t deserve this, and you are in no way responsible for his bad judgement.”

  My lips fell apart.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Do you believe that?”

  “I want to.”

  “You have to,” she said, pushing my hair out of my face. “Okay?”

  My voice dropped to a whisper. “I just can’t believe this is happening to me.”

  “Me neither.”

  “We were so happy,” I said, gripping my knees.

  “I know.”

  “I thought we were anyway.” I dragged two fingers under my wetter eye. “I was so sure.”

  Brook nodded. “I know, honey.”

  “I just don’t understand what I’m supposed to do now,” I said. “I mean, I was literally in the middle of planning our wedding-”

  “There’s only one thing to do.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Take it one day at a time,” she said. “I’ll help you. It’s all going to be okay.”

  I blew air out my lips, desperate to get some kind of regular breathing pattern back. “Is that it? One day at a time? That’s all you’ve got for me?”

  She shrugged. “At the moment… besides telling you to look on the bright side, but I thought it might be a bit early for that.”

  “The bright side? What the hell kind of bright side could there possibly be in this situation?”

  “Well, for one thing, now you don’t have to starve yourself for the next year so you can look gaunt in a few glossy photos that no one is ever going to look at again.”

  I nodded. “True.”

  “And you haven’t gone and married the world’s biggest asshole.”

  I took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess there’s that.”

  Chapter 6: Ben

  My palms were sweating as I walked towards his office, but I was determined to get my racing heart under control.

  After all, Will Abbott might have been my late and reluctant father, but he was a business man through and through. If I didn’t handle myself maturely and choose my words carefully, he might laugh me right out of his office.

  Lord knows it wouldn’t be the first time.

  But it was hard to stay calm when I was so excited about the space I’d found. So far, only Christophe had seen it, but he agreed to be my cosigner as soon as he walked in.

  The old warehouse was a veritable blank slate and between the dark brick walls and the black steel beams, my imagination was running wild at the thought of its potential.

  Best of all, it was right in the heart of the meat packing district, right where the clubbers already were. All I had to do was build it and they would come.

  Unfortunately, I had no idea what Will wanted to talk to me about so I’d have to deal with whatever his agenda was before I broke the news.