Remake Read online

  “What gets it somewhere?” Odette asked.

  Erica would’ve preferred to avoid that particular question. She tugged her fingers through her newly dyed blonde hair and released a quiet sigh. “Well, I have been trying my hardest to keep you all out of it, but with the lull in the investigation, and this witness coming forward but not really changing things, I’m coming to the conclusion that I can’t have it both ways. I think you guys would have to get involved to get it somewhere,” she explained, struggling to keep frustration out of her voice. It wasn’t directed at them, though, but at the need to be having this specific conversation at all. It was moments like these when she could say with certainty that if Jeremy were ever on fire in front of her, she’d just toss him a match.

  “Why the fuck did this person take so long anyway?” Abel asked, his blond eyebrows pulling together as he scowled. “And then why come forward if you don’t plan to talk?”

  “I don’t know. I kinda had to stalk the investigator to get this information in the first place, and there was some time lapse between when he or she came forward and when I found out. They’ve known since the beginning of the year. He said the witness said he or she was afraid to come forward at first…and apparently still is.”

  “Afraid of what? Their conscience for not speaking up immediately?” Abel nearly spat the words as he wrung his hands.

  “She doesn’t know, Abel. Chill out,” Wes warned his identical twin.

  “I was just asking!” Abel shot back at him before turning to Erica. “Did I say anything to offend you, E?”

  “It’s not what you said; it’s how you said it, Abel,” Wes clarified. “You were basically yelling at her.”

  “What in the actual fuck? E, did I yell at you? Did you get that I was mad at the situation and not you? Everyone else got that, right? It’s just my idiot brother?”

  “You see what I mean? It’s your approach. You go straight into ‘asshole dickface.’”

  “Kinda not the time for you two to be fighting,” Odette said in exasperation.

  “Well, he shouldn’t have jumped in like that,” Abel said with spite.

  “She’s just explaining and you’re being a douche,” Wes fired back.

  “Fuck you, dude.”

  “Guys…please,” Kai said in a weak tone.

  Erica shut her eyes for a moment, rubbed her fingers over her forehead as the twins bickered, and hoped to grasp control of the conversation once she spoke again. “Guys, I don’t know what made this person come forward but, please, let’s just calm down and be glad the person is here now…and hopefully, they’ll talk. But I get why it’s hard for them. Trust me, no one wants to be a part of a criminal investigation. Maybe they were doing something they weren’t supposed to, and speaking up will get them in trouble. Also, I know from experience that telling people things that you may be embarrassed about or feel vulnerable or scared about is really, really hard.” From the looks of the twins, the tension remained, but had weakened to a cautious simmer.

  “How would we have to be involved?” Jamie asked. She had stared at her hands throughout the duration of Erica’s revelation about the witness and the mention of the attack again. She wiped a tear away with the back of her hand, and a squeezing in Erica’s chest brought on a need to embrace her. Jamie had confessed her resentment of Erica after she cut ties with them while coming to terms with what had happened to her in the aftermath of her assault. Jamie had assumed unwarranted guilt since finding out the whole truth.

  “Up until last summer, I hadn’t suspected him at all, so it made no sense to involve any of you. After Kai and I pieced it all together, at some point, I begged the authorities in Thailand to ask U.S. authorities to assist in investigating him, but my words aren’t enough because my memory…it’s worthless, and there’s really no substantial evidence. He’s not even a suspect. We’d have to make him a suspect first. And that probably means you would have to give statements about that last night and the morning on the airplane. How he looked. Anything he said to you about the injury to his ear to cover up that I ripped his earring out during the attack. Pictures. Everything. And that means your names would…” Erica trailed off.

  “Our names would end up in the papers…” It was Leko’s voice this time, and it was empty of any discernible emotion.

  “Yes, I think so.” Erica gulped down before she looked at him, expecting to catch some reluctance in his brown eyes but Leko let her down. There was only a comforting expression waiting, and he held it on her like he needed her to understand how much he cared. Damn, they sure knew how to make this harder for her. She wanted to protect them not the other way around. Someone else’s life would be crumbling, and Erica would fix it. That’s how it had always been. That’s how it was supposed to be. Not this. “And not just the media kind, but in court documents if he’s ever extradited. Possibly public federal court documents. I’m the…the victim…” A crude taste always seemed to precede that word whenever she had to say it, and even when she only thought it. “…So my name gets protection because of journalism policy, and probably in the other documents, but it won’t be the same for the rest of you. Jeremy isn’t just anybody, so people will want to know what’s in the documents and claim that it’s news. Combine that with the Club Victory altercation when the truth of that comes out in Kai’s statements, and they’re going to make this news. So it ends up putting all of you in the spotlight because of this.

  “And then…Thailand has no jurisdiction over you, and I have no idea how the courts work over there, but I can’t ask you guys to fly across the world to testify in a trial…if there ever is one.” She held up a finger, preempting any objections from her friends; she could sense that at least one of them was about to speak up to defy her. “I know you guys think this is something we can just breeze through, but only a few of us in here live in the spotlight regularly, and it’s hard enough when nothing’s going on and paparazzi is just following you because you’re kinda famous. Something like this can drag out for a long time. I don’t want to mess with your lives.” It probably sounded like veiled discouragement of their involvement, and she wasn’t even sure it wasn’t. Suddenly everything felt chaotic, like the Earth was spinning faster than gravity could keep her tethered to it.

  A short, catchy rhythm of knocks landed on Abel’s door, only adding to the tension in the room, and some of them had even flinched at the sound. Heath, Kai’s bassist, announced himself and stepped in with Abel’s invitation, before turning a puzzled glance to each of them. “Hey, guys, what’s up? Party’s starting without you.”

  “Shit…I forgot the front door’s unlocked…” Wes said, his blond brows jumping up his forehead. “A lot of people here already?”

  Heath nodded, causing his long dreads to sway at the sides of his face. “A few. Me and Zave came together, one of the girls who lives next door, Katia, I think, handed me a beer, so they’re here, Ashley, um, some surfers—guys—you know, but people are trickling in.” His brow furrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “So…what’s going on?”

  Wes moved toward him, and Erica knew he was struggling to put together a convincing and concrete explanation for why they were all in Abel’s room. She could almost see the thoughts taking on an inappropriate form, and it made her nervous. One could never be properly prepared for Wes’ comments.

  Please don’t say orgy, please don’t say orgy, Erica thought, glaring at the back of his head like she could alter his mind upon command. Or cult. Or exorcism. They were all possible options in that heap of crazy that was Wes Elliott’s brain.

  “So, I caught Kai and Dylan in here on Abel’s bed, and it was…wow…” He trailed off into a chuckle. “…I invited everyone in to see.” He gestured at the couple. “You know those two…like rabbits. Blame it on young love.” Wes slung his arm over Heath’s shoulders and led him out of the room with Leko and Ribsy following.

  “Seriously, Wes?” Dylan called out to him with annoyance in her tone, and the re
st of them trudged toward the hallway to head downstairs.

  “I would’ve gone with planning a surprise party for someone’s mom,” Erica chimed in, shaking her head, but she was grateful for the shift in the conversation.

  “Wait, so, what do you want us to do, E?” Abel’s hand landed on her lower back, and he steered her to the center of the room and back to the attention of everyone still left in it. Dammit. She’d hoped she would make it out before anyone reignited the previous discussion. I want you guys to not be looking at me the way you are. All pitiful.

  “Right now? I want us to eat,” she said, her voice shaking, but she pressed out a smile, hoping it was encouraging and reassuring enough to mask her anxiety. She wanted to find a routine sense of normalcy again. And she needed to find out how to go forward with the investigation in Thailand without disheveling their lives. There had to be another way, and she would figure it out first. “Food’s probably cold by now or everyone’s already eating it. And the place you ordered from is really good. My sister and I used to go there a lot.” With murmurs of agreement, everyone took her awkward cue that it was time to lift the gloom before it clouded the rest of the evening.

  “You guys didn’t cook?! Oh, thank God,” Odette said, pumping her arms into a V above her head.

  After sneering at her, Abel said, “We ordered a shitload of food from the churrascaria…” He pronounced the word with the perfect accent. “…The Brazilian place up the street. The Elliotts are the epitome of class, ladies!” He winked at Jamie, but she reciprocated with a nearly lethal frown. Erica passed a questioning glance between them as she linked arms with Jamie and then pulled her aside once the room cleared.

  “What’s that about?”

  Jamie rolled her dark eyes. “You really want to know?”

  Erica nodded and grinned. “Of course, J!”

  Jamie flung her arms around her shoulders. “God, E, I’ve missed you, so much. Everyone else would probably think I’m being so stupid about this.”

  “It’s what I’m here for.” Using her brain for anything more compelling would only be draining. She didn’t want to think about courts. Or witnesses. Or foreign law. Or the ex-fiancé she was now in the same city limits with. Yes, if her escape from the aspects of her life that were threatening to shred the pieces she was slowly putting back together, was only for a sliver of time, there was nothing she wanted to do more than hear about how her two friends had discovered just how disastrous their once carefree sex arrangement was.

  Erica was making a genuine attempt at being attentive to what her sister was saying, but the effort only became more strenuous the longer she had to be on the phone with Naomi, especially when she was in the middle of one of her freak-outs. And especially with Bryson, her ex-fiancé, glancing over and chuckling at her from the driver’s seat every few seconds. They hadn’t been in close quarters like this in almost a year and a half and, tonight, his arrival to her Culver City apartment building had been an unexpected one, when he showed up to help her run an errand for Naomi: tracking down their soon-to-be brother-in-law Fitz. Erica had tried to play off her anxiety when she saw him, especially because the stress of the knowledge of the witness had just taken her three weeks to get over.

  Naomi had called earlier, desperate but angry, because Fitz had been a no-show to a political event his parents were hosting. Naomi and her fiancé, Hayden, couldn’t leave, so they recruited Erica. And Erica had agreed, not knowing that Bryson, who she had run out on last year following the assault in Thailand, would be the one driving her to retrieve Fitz and his car from a party at a Hollywood Hills mansion. Naomi had only said a mutual friend of theirs would give her a ride, and she had vouched for the friend by saying it was someone she knew very well (though, nowadays that didn’t seem to mean much). The situation hinted strongly of a plot to spur reconciliation between them. Erica wasn’t upset that she had been duped, but she was surprised that Bryson had agreed to it.

  “We’re getting closer to The Hills, Naomi, I’m gonna lose my signal…” All those fancy, gated houses, and no one could figure out how to get cell service to work better out there. But even as she prepared to conclude the call, her heart slammed into her throat and rebounded back in place as though attached to a bungee cord. She had gotten into Bryson’s silver Benz while on the phone, and now, getting off would mean the horror of choosing between deafening silence and awkward small talk. Bryson didn’t know about the rape, and she couldn’t stand to think of what his reaction would be when he did. She neither feared his anger toward her attacker nor his unlikely disbelief; she was afraid of how he might see her now, much in the way she dreaded the looks of everyone she told, but to a larger degree. She didn’t want him to pity her or not see the person she was before it happened.

  “Okay! Thank you so much, E,” Naomi said after squealing, sounding much more relieved than before, but then she got serious. “It’s funny how the Van Der Bausches think I’m trash, but their beloved douchebag of a son has been getting a pass his entire life. And look who’s going out of their way for the little asshole right now?”

  Erica let out a loud giggle, mostly exaggerated by her nervousness of being near Bryson. “I hope you put that on the wedding programs. Oh, it’s going to be awesome at the reception when the MC announces, ‘Maid of honor, Ms. Erica Evigan, and her escort, the best man, Mr. Beloved Douchebag Van Der Bausch.” It was bittersweet referring to herself as “Ms.,” knowing that by now she might’ve been sharing a last name with the man in the car with her.

  “Oh, I wish I could, but Hayden seems to like him a lot. Tell Bryce I said thank you. We owe you guys!” Listening to them referred to as a pair, even just in a throwaway comment, was like having barbed wire yanked through her stomach. But if they were a pair of anything right now, it was something shattered.

  Erica set the phone in her lap and cleared her throat to fill the immediate sound void. She took a peek over at him as she pretended something on his side of the street had caught her attention. Man, she missed him. Was it okay to say so? Was it okay to touch him? She could feel the longing beating alongside her pulse, and maybe it was even stronger than that. She was so jittery, so full of clustered thoughts. Her heart was seconds away from somersaulting out of her mouth.

  Damn, Bryson looked good, and enough so to spike her temperature and take her back in her mind to that place in time where they would’ve fogged up the windows before they left the parking space. His short blond hair was just slightly gelled and tousled in the front, but perfectly in place at the sides and back, and his dark brown eyes swept across the lit city beyond the windshield.

  He was so particular in his grooming habits, especially because of his job as a music manager, where he was often the youngest person in a room full of men subscribing to more traditional beliefs of what professional men were supposed to look like. So Bryson rarely had stubble along his jaw on any days that weren’t weekends and his haircuts were a regimented part of his routine. He only wore t-shirts to bed and believed in blazers and ties as everyday staples in menswear. Now, he was wearing a navy button-up sweater over a striped polo shirt with dark jeans on the cool L.A. night.

  Needing to seem occupied for just a few moments longer, she flipped down the visor mirror and messed with her hair. She was still adjusting to her new look. The blond. It made her brown eyes seem lighter.

  “I liked red, but this is good, too,” Bryson said.

  She hadn’t even noticed that he was watching her. Erica swung the visor up and lowered her hands, intertwining her fingers in her lap. “Thanks. And, um, Naomi says she’s eternally grateful for this. Fitz needs to be at his parents’ house by tomorrow afternoon because he’s supposed to go with them to something Senator Kinnish is having. If he doesn’t go to Hayden and Naomi’s tonight, there’s a huge chance he won’t be there tomorrow.”

  Bryson nodded. “And then back to Culver City for you. I just had lunch downtown with a client the other day. How do you like living there?”
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  “It’s great. Pretty close to USC. I’m taking some summer classes before the school year.”

  “My alma mater. You’re back in school? I’m guessing you quit at Razorwire then?” he asked, referring to her short-lived career at a music magazine in New York. “You probably had a lot saved for a place at Culver Creek…”

  Erica tried not to smile, because Bryson was fishing for information about her living situation, but then she felt a sudden sadness break through. She had shut him out, and he really didn’t know much about her life these days. “Kai’s girlfriend, Dylan…Carroll, and I are roommates just for the summer. He’s helping out with the rent. It’s just the two of us.”

  “Dylan… That’s the girl who worked on his documentary web series, right? I see them in magazines sometimes,” Bryson explained. “Guess you and Kai are still pretty close. Of course you are.” There was an edge of resentment in his tone, and a tiny wince made the corner of his mouth tick up. Bryson had never had a reason to feel threatened by Kai, despite how gossip columnists had tried to skew their friendship, but it had to hurt to know that he was the one in her life still. Her chest tightened as she wondered if Bryson had moved on at all with someone else. The thought sent a cold burn of jealousy through her body, but she wouldn’t have blamed him, and he certainly had the access. Throughout their relationship, up until their engagement, West H. Wood magazine had listed him as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.

  “She’s better than Yeardley?”

  “Oh, tons more,” Erica said, giggling and throwing her head back against the headrest. “I tolerated Yeardley for Kai’s sake. Dylan is awesome, not prissy at all, and Kai’s absolutely in love with her.”

  Dylan and Kai were nearly half a year in and certainly past the honeymoon stage, so they were starting to argue here and there, but they were hopelessly in love with each other. A lot like they had been. A lot like she still was. Erica hadn’t been the first model he’d dated, not even the fifth, but she had certainly been the last. She was eighteen and he was twenty-one when they met at the after-party for a fashion show she had walked in. He had asked her on an all-day date with him that night. She was reluctant, knowing that he had a bit of a Casanova reputation in her industry, so she said no. But with unyielding curiosity getting the best of her, she tracked down his number, and a few days later, Erica agreed, still not knowing what to expect. She figured she’d have a good story to tell the hair and makeup people at her next runway show. He had turned out just as charming and self-assured as people said, but he was also really sweet. He spoke of his insecurities about living in his father’s shadow while they ate at his favorite places. Then they had danced at poorly lit, hole-in-the-wall nightclubs, and talked for hours about growing up in L.A. before ending up in bed together. They had been inseparable for three plus years…until she returned from Thailand last year.