Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3) (43 page)

Chapter 49

Jasmine

One Hour Earlier

When filming was finished for the day, I’d sought out Ryan and pulled him aside. He told me he was fine and that everything was okay between us. That he understood that I had to kiss Tyler, that it was part of the job. That it was no big deal.

Yeah, right. He was jealous. I could see it all over his face.

But tonight, I’d fix it. Tonight, I’d meet his friends and, whatever happened, I’d get on with them. After the disaster that had been Flicker, I wanted it to go
perfectly.

I had no idea where cops hung out and I suspected that the gray dress might be a little much. But better overdressed than underdressed. That was the Jasmine way—

Wait, the
Jasmine
way?

I’d slipped back into her, again. The whole thing with Tyler had put me right back into defensive mode.

I took a long breath and steadied myself. I had to stop doing that—I’d promised Ryan. The idea of meeting complete strangers as Emma, though, was terrifying.

As I was doing my hair, I heard Nick arrive home. He headed straight for the couch, so I grabbed my hair things and went in there with him so I could talk to him while I used the mirror in there. He looked peaky and nervous—not high, then. Most likely jonesing a little. Out of the two, that was probably better, for what I had in mind.

“I was passing this church,” I began, “and they had a poster outside.”

A lie. I’d had to google local meetings and then find one in walking distance.

“I don’t need the twelve steps, Emma,” he said sullenly. “I’m doing just fine.”

I met his eyes in the mirror. I could feel the anger starting to smolder inside me, now. “Really? Sleeping on your sister’s couch? Doing jobs for lowlifes? And don’t call me that.”

We glared at each other. We’d argued plenty, as kids. But we’d also always been able to stick together.

I sighed.

“I’m trying to help,” I said, making my voice a little gentler. “Just
try
going to Narcotics Anonymous. One meeting. Get clean. I’ll help you. Even if it means you have to hunker down in bed for a week and miss work.”

He shook his head bitterly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re
not fine!”

“Just get off my case! Jesus, so I’m using—so fucking what? You didn’t used to be so fucking pious.”

I gaped at him. “You think I’m being—Nick, I got away from all that! You did, too! You even said you got clean.”

“I
did
get clean! I even started a college course in cooking—I was going to get into catering!”

I could hear the Chicago creeping back into my voice again. “Then what the fuck? Why would you go back to it?”

I could see the frustration in his eyes, the self-loathing. “Because—Because…Jesus, you don’t know what it’s
like
, Emma! All the other people on that course were
meant to be there!
I was just faking it!”

That stopped me cold. He’d been through the exact same thing I had, always doubting himself, always thinking he was the interloper. Except, where I’d had Karen and Nat and Clarissa, he’d only had drugs to turn to. “I
do
know what that’s like—” I started.

But he interrupted. “Are you ashamed of me? Is that it? I wasn’t good enough for you, for two years, but then your conscience itched?”

The anger flared up inside me and exploded. “I was trying to help you! I was worried about you!”

“You weren’t so worried when you ran out on me!”

The room went deathly quiet. I actually took a faltering step back.

“I didn’t—it wasn’t like that!” I stuttered. I knew it was the addiction talking. I knew it was the need inside of him, making him lash out. But I could also feel that this was coming from way down deep, something he’d been bottling up for years.

“You didn’t even leave me a note!” he yelled. His face was twisted, but not with anger. With remembered pain.

“I—”
What? I didn’t trust him?
When I’d fled, he’d been doing jobs for my dad. He’d been as much a victim as me, but also closer to my dad than I’d ever been. I thought that if I stayed in contact with him, he might bring my dad to my door.

Yes. I hadn’t trusted him. And now, looking at the hurt in his eyes, I could see how wrong I’d been. I’d been terrified and beaten and at the very limit of what my soul could take, but that didn’t change the fact I’d left him behind. I was his little sister, but I still should have taken better care of him.

“Nick,” I said softly, all the anger gone from my voice, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He just stared at me for a second, and I could see the tears forming in his eyes. And then he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

I sank to the couch. It suddenly hit me how much I’d messed up. How I’d been so scared, so focused on keeping myself safe from our dad, that I’d forgotten about what it must have been like for him. What had my dad done to him, when he discovered I’d gone? Beaten him, to try to find out where I was?
Jesus.

I wondered if he’d been telling the truth, when we met at the coffee shop, about being clean. Had he only started using again after he moved in with me? Had seeing me again reawakened all the old pain and resentment, and that had sent him back to the needle?
Jesus, this is all my fault!

And yet he’d chosen to move back in. It had been his idea. That meant there must be hope for us.

I decided, right then. I wasn’t going to let the memories of my dad come between us anymore. When Nick returned, I’d apologize properly and try to patch things up between us. I’d explain about how scared I’d been, and that our dad had made me paranoid. And I’d tell him that he could stay in my apartment as long as he wanted, even if he
was
using. Because I wasn’t going to abandon him again.

I called him, but he didn’t pick up. I left a message, apologizing, then texted for good measure.

After that, all I could do was hope that he came back. And, in the meantime, I had to put on a brave face and meet Ryan’s friends.

***

When the cab pulled up to the cop bar, I was a bag of nerves. Between the argument with Nick and stressing about the kiss with Tyler the next day, I was ready to turn around, go home, and hide beneath a blanket. But I wanted this to work. I wanted Ryan’s friends to like me.

Then I got a look at the place. When he’d said
cop bar,
I hadn’t expected somewhere so down-market. My dress really was going to be completely out of place. And it felt uncomfortably close to—

I froze as I pushed my way in through the door. The stained, lacquered tables. The wood paneling. It was almost an exact replica of the place my dad owned in Chicago.

I could feel my legs going weak even as everyone turned to stare at the weird woman who’d just blundered in. And they were all cops. Every one of them. The enemy, always suspicious, ready to arrest you for breathing but always willing to take a bribe or look the other way when you needed them to protect you.

I started to panic breathe. I couldn’t do this! I looked across the room and saw Ryan, sitting at a table with three other cops, all male. There was no way that Emma could just march up to them, in
this
bar, and introduce herself.

But Jasmine could.

At that moment, Ryan got to his feet. ‘Shut up!” he yelled. “Just shut up!”

I hurried over. With every step, I could feel Jasmine closing around me like a protective wall.
Shields up!

“What’s the matter?” a small, balding guy at the table wanted to know.

“Yeah,” I asked with a grin. “What’s the matter?”

Everyone looked round. Jaws dropped. As Jasmine, I basked in the attention.

When I’d introduced myself as Ryan’s girlfriend and bought one of the guys a beer to replace the one Ryan had spilled, I got to know them. It was easy enough, nothing I hadn’t done a million times before. All you have to do is forget everyone else in the room and focus entirely on the guy’s face. It doesn’t matter what he tells you—you’re enraptured by it. He’s the most interesting, funniest guy in the world and you’re lucky to be in his presence. I could feel my eyes going big and my breathing quicken as I sat there, listening to their stories of being cops.

It was so easy to slip back into it. And I knew that was dangerous. But it was working so well...there was no harm in being Jasmine for a few hours, right?

After a while, I glanced at Ryan and saw that he was staring at me. He almost looked annoyed. Why would he be annoyed? I was getting on great with his friends. They loved me!

After a few beers and a few hours, he abruptly stood up. “We’re out of here,” he said, and he said it in that cop voice that wouldn’t be disobeyed. I saw the other guys—the ones I’d been talking to—glance at each other guiltily. I looked up at Ryan blankly.
What?!

Outside, it was raining and we had to walk to find a cab. Except, Ryan was walking much faster than me. I had to hurry to keep up and that’s a struggle in heels. “Wait!” I called after him. “Ryan, hold up!”

He suddenly stopped and spun around. “What the hell were you doing in there?!”

Heavy raindrops were splatting on my shoulders and scalp, making me shiver. I blinked at him. “What? Nothing! Talking to your friends!”

“
Talking
to them?! You were flirting with them!”

I think he expected me to deny it. But I just shrugged, mystified. “So?”

He looked incredulous. He ignored the rain completely, even as it turned into a proper, hissing summer shower. “
So?!
Jasmine, you don’t—you don’t
flirt
with a guy’s friends! You sat right between them!”

I hadn’t really thought about it—I’d just done it on autopilot. I mean,
of course
you sit between the men, so that they turn inward to face you. It’s, like, female flirting 101. “Well...yeah, but—”

“Charlie and Julio were both staring down your dress all night!”

I felt myself redden.
Me.
Not Jasmine; Emma.

He stared at me. “Doesn’t that bother you?!”

I blustered, getting defensive. Rain was trickling down my face and had to shake it away. “It obviously bothers
you!”

“Hell yeah, it bothers me! I don’t want you flirting with my friends!”

“What are you, jealous?” I said it sarcastically.

He grabbed my upper arms. “
Yes!”

And suddenly, my whole perspective shifted. He actually
was
jealous. Because he wanted me. He wanted me all to himself.

No one had ever felt that way about me before. As Jasmine, I’d flirted with a different guy every night and we’d never got anywhere near the stage where those sorts of feelings would develop. Hell, I’d been sort of proud of not belonging to anybody. I used to declare that I was
mine,
and no one else’s. I’d shaken my head in dismay at guys I’d seen getting possessive. I’d always thought of it as a bad thing.

But being
his...
that didn’t sound bad at all. As he held me there in the rain, those blue eyes gleaming with jealous rage, it sounded sort of...wonderful.

I pushed forward and kissed him hard on the lips, which was the last thing he expected. “What the
hell?!”
he said.

I put my wet forehead against his. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just...I just wanted your friends to like me.”

I saw his anger slip away. “Oh, baby,” he whispered. He took my head between those huge hands, the heat of him warming my soaking, chilled cheeks. “You don’t have to do that to get people to like you. People like you just as you are.”

And then he kissed me, slow and deep, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. The sort of kiss that would have had people stopping to stare even if we hadn’t been doing it in the pouring rain.

Chapter 50

Jasmine

Ryan delicately suggested going back to his place—it was nearer than mine and we’d be going to work together the next morning anyway. But my head was too full of my brother and what I was going to do about kissing Tyler, the next day. I needed advice.

I called Karen and asked if I could come over. Then I got a cab over to the Upper West Side, wincing at the cost. I wouldn’t be paid by the network until the pilot was wrapped and money was seriously tight.

I’d lived in Karen’s apartment for a while before Connor moved in, right after she’d rescued me from the escort debacle. So I should have remembered how gorgeous it was, even though I hadn’t been there for a while.

But my jaw still dropped when she opened the door. I’d forgotten the way the marble floor shone, and the huge living room. Connor had apparently said, when he moved in, that his whole apartment would have fitted into that one room, and he’d probably been right.