Chapter 5 Chapter: 5
ANDREA
Later that night, after work, Jules and I went to the bar she frequents. To unwind from the problems plaguing our lives and maybe find a solution to them. Jules had driven us to a bar in downtown Manhattan.
A couple of minutes later, we were both seated at the bar counter with our respective drinks.
Jules ordered vodka, while I ordered a glass of wine. I've been nursing that one glass of wine, curious and envious, watching the couples dance and gyrate on the raised platform meant for that particular purpose. I've never been much of a party girl, not even when I was in college.
No, that wasn't entirely true. My first semester at the University of Chicago had been wild. Freshly out of high school and away from my overprotective parents. I was wild and adventurous; Beth and Tess, we'd had so much fun together, partying all night.
I'd always been a lightweight and had low alcohol tolerance even then. But that hadn't stopped me. I'd had hot and heavy make-out sessions with college boys at frat parties, drank my one glass, and danced to my heart's content.
Life was good and so much fun back then until I met and fell in love with a hazel-eyed monster who was older and in his final year at the University.
I shake away his thoughts before I drown in the horrid memories. Seeing other people free and wild is a bit of a mystery to me. Picking up someone for a night, being naked and alone with them, is a frightening prospect and something I would never do.
My fears and paranoia ran deep. I don't trust anyone, much less a stranger I'd just met in a club. And it would definitely require tremendous trust for me to bare myself to any man.
Not to mention, even before that incident years ago, I was more of an introvert. I prefer curling up with a good book and a hot chocolate in my free time to going out with friends to party.
The freedom I'd had from my overprotective parents and the outgoing friends was what spurred me then.
I know now that life is unpredictable, and your carefully crafted life could crash all around you like a house of cards. Mine had been like that.
Once I wasn't traumatized, I wasn't orphaned, and I wasn't alone. Now I'm all of those things.
Juliet let me be with my thoughts while she kept drinking nonstop. She'd chugged down glass after glass of vodka.
“Andrea, you good?” Jules' voice startled me out of my grim thoughts. She was staring at me with concern, her face flushed, a sign that she was already half drunk.
“Yeah, I am.” I took a drink from my wine and swallowed the lump in my throat.
“For a moment there, you look… lost, are you okay?”
“It was nothing, just thinking.”
“You know, I just got this crazy idea. You and I can help each other out,” she said, her eyes calculating.
“Really? How?” I asked, as I took a sip of my wine.
“I want you to have sex with Nicklaus,” she suddenly blurts.
“What?!” I choked, spraying wine out of my mouth, coughing hard. Jules patted my back, looking guiltily as she kept apologizing.
After I finally got control of the coughing fits. “Please tell me, you did not just say that!” I'm shocked that she would even joke about such a thing, but Jules doesn't look like she's joking; she seems determined.
“I did, please just listen to me, okay.” I rub my face, looking at her, like this is the first time I'm seeing her.
“I talked to my lawyer earlier, and he was convinced since I don't have any evidence of Nick's infidelity. Nick will deny everything, and knowing him, he's going to retaliate by taking everything from me.
He has three different lawyers, none of whom has ever lost a case. If I don't do something, Nick will take everything I have, everything I have worked hard for.”
“Okay, I get it. You're drunk. Because why else would you be saying this? How does my having sex with your husband help you?”
“I'm not drunk,” she argues. She clears her throat. “I know exactly what I'm saying.”
I shake my head, doubtful.
“Please just listen, okay. As you well know, I don't have any evidence of Nicklaus's affair to show the lawyers. I need to manufacture one. Andrea, please, I need you to make a sex video with Nick so that I can use it as evidence.”
“Nope, no. I'm not going to have sex with your husband, Juliet.”
I was shaking my head in disbelief when she rushed to say. “Why not? This is a great way to solve both our problems. Also, you don't have to worry, I'll edit and blur your face, I swear it. Nobody will know it's you. And the best part, I will also pay you handsomely; you can use it and get rid of this Jericho guy for good.”
“I'm not doing that, Juliet, I can't,” I said, a bit pissed that she's thinking of pimping me to her husband.
“How could you even….” I continued, astounded, but she cuts in.
“There's no need to stress, Andrea! Don't refuse me just yet, think about it, okay. I'll wait for your response. Right now, let's drink, cheers.”
She clicks her glass with mine and drinks her vodka.
My eyes swept over the bar again as I thought about what she said. I knew her offer could solve all my problems right now, but there was no way I was going to do that.
I just can't. She had no idea what she was asking.
“A…Andrea,” Juliet slurred, startling me. “Never give your heart to a m—man. They're not…,” She burped, “worth it, all stupid, dumbass men.”
I glanced around the men at the bar and flashed them a half-grimace of a smile. “She doesn't mean it.”
“Oh, I mean it!” She shouts, slamming her glass on the counter. “Don't you ever believe a man, you heard me? Never!”
She raised her empty glass and whistled at the waiter, waving him over like he was a dog. “Hey, you, bartender. Don't just stand there! Com’ere, I need a refill.”
The bartender walks over and patiently pours her another drink.
“That's enough, Jules, you're drunk,” I said, trying to take away the glass of vodka from her. She smacked my hand away.
“I'm not drunk, I'm fucking sober. So don't be a party pooper, Aaandrea,” she slurred, then hiccuped. “Did you hear what I said? Nn—never trust a man.”
“I heard you, Jules,” I replied, reaching for the glass again. “But you really have to stop drinking, you're going to pay for this tomorrow morning.”
Before I could stop her, she chugged the last glass, giggled, and then dropped her head on the bar counter, completely wasted.
I closed our tab and grabbed Jules. I had to pull, drag, and push her out of the damn bar, then maneuver her into the back seat of her car.
Huffing as I rounded to the driver's side, I wondered why she didn't come with her chauffeur when she knew she'd plan to be this drunk.
That's probably why she invited me: so I could be her designated driver. Now I had to take her home, then call myself an Uber.
I sit in the driver's seat of the Aston Martin Vantage, praying I won't crash and have to pay for the damage. I'm already half-buried in debt as it is.
When we arrived, I was spared the hassle of going through their security checks. I had suffered through the last time I'd come here.
Their security almost rivals that of the white house. Almost being the keyword, they had guards all over their place. I'm surprised Jules doesn't go around with a bodyguard on her heels. But knowing her, she wouldn't want someone hounding her 24/7.
I wouldn't either, though I understand why her husband Nicklaus would hire guards to protect his family. With what happened to his sister and everything, of course, he wouldn't want a repeat.
The giant, ornate electric gates opened to let me through. I was nervous, knowing gunmen were watching me.
With the help of their butler and housemaid, we were able to take Jules up the stairs to her room on the second floor.
I'm awed by the tastefully decorated interiors, with marble floors gleaming under the light of diamond chandeliers. But more than that, I'm impressed with the architecture.
It was a sprawling two-story townhouse, or should I say mansion. Outfitted with an enviable swimming pool on the terrace with cabanas. I remember all this from the tour I'd taken months ago.
I was on my way out when a loud horn from an SUV driving in through the electronic gates cut through my musing.
The car slowed, and the tinted glass slid down just enough for me to see a glimpse of a man inside—as I walked by.
Curious, I glanced back, but the glass was up again. Was it Mr. Nicklaus? I shrugged. What is it to me who's inside the car?
I definitely don't want to see that cheating weasel. From everything I heard, Nicklaus Montgomery is not a good man.
As though life wants to remind me that I've got problems of my own instead of focusing on other things. My phone pinged with a new text.
Jericho: I'm counting down the days until you're mine!
My stomach twisted with dread.
