Shame Read online

  I checked my phone and nodded. “Fine. One quick cup, but we need to go fast.”

  “I ran track for four years in high school… My middle name was Flash.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Not an athletic bone in this body,” he joked. “But I figured you were one for playful banter, so I went with it. Good move?”

  I laughed with him. “Good move.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  She didn’t stay at my penthouse that night… pretty sure she went home and cried.

  When I checked the website, I noticed we’d gotten a surge of hits over the last week because of the guy I’d embarrassed. What a loser. The guy had pulled his Facebook profile, Twitter account — everything. After a few quick empty searches, I felt confident I’d at least embarrassed him enough to get him to stay away from Mel. That had been the number one reason… competition, well, that and boredom, but it was the fact that he’d stared at her. Granted, she’d rejected him, but still. Nobody touched what was mine. Ever. —The Journal of Taylor B.

  Tristan

  CLASSES WERE GRUELING; my focus was completely off. By the time I was finished teaching for the day, all I really wanted was to escape. I lifted my briefcase from the floor and frowned. A white slip must have fallen off my desk.

  When I picked it up, I felt my entire body shake with rage. It was a note of excuse from campus security — on Lisa’s behalf.

  Cursing, I stomped my way across campus until I reached her dorm. When I noticed that the door was still broken and just wedged shut, I went from angry to full-on pissed.

  I knocked loudly. Twice.

  When the door didn’t open, the rage was replaced with sheer panic that something had happened to her.

  I was just getting ready to break down the door when it swung open. Gabe stood on the other side. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Tristan, what up, man? You make house calls now?”

  “Not exactly.” I tried to calm my breathing. “There was a slight misunderstanding in class, and Lisa—”

  “Slight misunderstanding, my ass,” Gabe said under his breath. “Look, I know you have to draw that teacher-slash-student line, and I respect you for it, but could you be any more of an ass? Seriously.”

  “Are you telling me how to do my job or just insulting me?” I asked, dumbstruck that he’d said that to my face.

  Gabe crossed his arms. “Both.”

  “Listen—” I leaned forward, trying to use my weight to push past him. “—I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  “She has me.” Gabe pushed back. “I’ll decide if she’s okay or not, and didn’t you say something about what she does in her personal time not really mattering to you? So, why don’t you go have a heart elsewhere? We’re full-up on assholes here, and I really don’t want to have to see my own face on the six o‘clock news because I kicked your sorry ass.” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, what would Daddy say?”

  With that, he slammed the door in my face.

  Deserved. Well played and totally deserved.

  I pressed my fingers to my temples. It was tempting to hack the freaking database just to get her cell number. I wanted a damn smiley face or something — something that said she was fine, something that—

  Inspiration struck. I didn’t need to hack anything. I had all of the students’ contact numbers, as well as their emails, back at my house.

  I ran down the hall and drove like a bat out of hell. I’d email her. It would be less personal, and what girl ignores email from a professor? Especially one who was paranoid she was going to fail his class?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I used to count cuts instead of sheep. I made small cuts down my arm, but the pain didn’t make me feel a damn thing. Mel came over a few nights before I was going to put my plan in place. I was the perfect boyfriend. I cooked her dinner; I rented a movie; we talked; we laughed. I wanted her to remember the good times, so when I hurt her I’d be able to pull that string again. That’s the thing about controlling others. During the good times? That’s all they focus on. They focus on good because focusing on bad just makes them feel like less of a person. “See? He really loves me? He really cares!” Bullshit. She was a means to an end… my end. I was going to live forever — or maybe the right word is haunt? —The Journal of Taylor B.

  Lisa

  “WHO WAS THAT?” I asked on my way out of the bathroom, towel-drying my hair. Gabe had insisted that he hang out at my dorm while waiting for the maintenance guy to come fix my door.

  What I thought was him babysitting ended up turning into a circus show as a few security guys showed up and put cameras and an alarm in my room. I’d asked if it was legal.

  Gabe’s answer? “Wes Michels.” That was always the answer when it came to being allowed to do anything.

  Granted, I was pretty sure that the university wouldn’t even blink since the Michels had basically donated enough funds to keep it running most of the year.

  “A real live ass.” Gabe shrugged. “I told it to get lost. Didn’t budge at first, almost pulled out a shotgun, but, low and behold, it finally left before any violence ensued.”

  “You talk a really big game for a guy who has trouble hitting a baseball, let alone a person.”

  “Ouch.” Gabe grabbed his chest and winced. “That was a deep one. You owe me free foot massages for a week.”

  “You have a wife for that.”

  “I lost all massage privileges for a week after I forgot to empty the dishwasher.”

  I grinned. “Sucks, but, sorry. I’m on her side.”

  “Everyone’s on her side,” he grumbled.

  “So? Seriously?” I plopped down on the couch. “Who was it?”

  “Guess.” Gabe swore and ran his fingers through his golden-blond hair. His many tattoos moved across both arms as he flexed his muscles and put his hands behind his head.

  “Publishers Clearinghouse?”

  “Close.”

  “Wes?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said close.” I laughed. “He’s like his own bank.”

  “Fair.” Gabe nodded. “An intelligent answer.” He leaned down and pulled a cookie from the plate. “And now you get a prize.”

  “For guessing well?”

  “And being the cutest cousin ever.” He pinched my cheeks.

  “Gross.” I pushed him away. “So?”

  “The man in the black mask.” Gabe sighed. “Also known as asshole-of-the-day. Swear, I’d get him fired if I had that type of power.”

  “Don’t you?” I asked, kind of perplexed that Gabe wouldn’t have that kind of power; I mean, it was Gabe we were talking about. He snapped his fingers, and the faculty basically panted after him. Not to mention being best friends with Wes basically meant if they wanted to run the free world, they wouldn’t have a heck of a lot of people saying no.

  “You have no idea,” he grumbled under his breath, then stood. “Let’s not discuss him. He said he wanted to see if you were okay, whatever the hell that means. Please tell me he’s not one of those guys…”

  “Huh?” I was still processing the fact that Tristan had stopped by my dorm. Wouldn’t that look suspicious? “What guys?”

  “The type of guy who verbally abuses a girl to feel powerful and then sweetens them up with nice words, only to repeat the process again.” Gabe’s face turned serious. “I think we both know that—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Lisa.” Gabe reached for my hands and pulled me to my feet. “Remember the warning signs, okay? If he’s hot and then cold, that’s not good. You don’t need that again. I don’t need that again. This world doesn’t need that type of monster again, just…” He tilted his head, creasing his brow as he sighed, seeming more helpless than I’d seen him in months. “…be careful.”

  I shrugged. “He’s just a professor caught in a rough position. Besides, he doesn’t want me.” And he’d certainly made that abundantly clear. Heat began in my neck and seeped
into my face.

  Gabe released my hands and laughed. “Which is why you’ve always been so innocent. Believe me when I say that man, your sexy little professor, wants you so damn bad he can’t even see straight. Just… keep him at a distance and call me if he gets handsy.”

  “He’s old,” I argued and then snorted. “Besides, he was only handsy when he didn’t know who I was.”

  “So he got scared.”

  “You defending him now?”

  “Hell, no!” Gabe held up his hands in surrender. “Just explaining the complicated male psyche to my confused female friend.”

  “Pizza!” a voice called from the door. Wes appeared on the other side with Kiersten and Saylor in tow. “And can I just say I’m-the-bomb-dot-com?”

  “We discussed your usage of that phrase,” Gabe growled. “Twice.”

  “Just like we discussed your inability to spell Seahawk correctly… twice.”

  “Just throwing it out there,” Gabe said defensively. “I was confused about part of it.”

  “It’s Sea and Hawk,” Wes shook his head. “Spaces confuse you?”

  “So pizza?” I interrupted their tense discussion. “I’m starved!”

  Kiersten winked and handed me the box with the smiley face drawn on it. I was the only one in the group who liked my pizza completely plain, cheese only. I took the box, opened the lid, and inhaled.

  “It’s like her drug,” Gabe whispered in an awestruck tone.

  “Hey!” I set it on the table and pulled a piece out. “After getting my dorm room broken into, I kind of feel like I deserve this.”

  “And having your professor hit on you then treat you like shit then hit on you again then treat you like shit in front of class, only to come and apologize…” Gabe nodded solemnly.

  “My fault.” Wes winced and shuddered. “Sorry, Lis. I really didn’t think he’d react that way. He’s usually… more relaxed.”

  “The man’s so uptight he probably shits diamonds.” Gabe tilted his head back and laughed.

  “And once again, awesome dinner visual,” Wes commented, saluting Gabe. “Thanks, man, for that.”

  “I’m a giver.” He winked and bit into the pizza while Saylor scurried to the kitchen to find napkins for everyone.

  “So…” Wes looked around the room. “…who has first watch?”

  “First watch?” I echoed, following his glance. “What do you mean?”

  Kiersten snorted and threw her hands into the air. “You don’t really think we’re letting you stay here by yourself… do you?”

  “Guys!” I pleaded, injecting a whine into my voice. “I’m totally fine. Besides, Gabe put up those expensive-looking cameras.” I pointed at the corner of the room. “And I have weapons of mass destruction—”

  “Also known as a pink Taser and Mace that she still doesn’t know which direction to point.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Do continue.”

  I stuck out my tongue. “And I won’t have you guys forever.”

  The room fell silent. Gabe looked down. Wes’s eyes were sad. Kiersten placed a hand on my arm, and Saylor sighed loudly.

  It was something I’d always thought but never really voiced aloud. They had their own lives. I loved them; they were like my family, but it wasn’t healthy, them always protecting me, hanging out with me. They should be doing things with each other, starting families. I don’t know. Just… not babysitting a girl who didn’t even have a steady boyfriend.

  Gabe was the first to speak. “Lis—”

  “Forget it.” I forced a smile. “I’ll stay tonight by myself and have you guys on speed dial. If I get freaked I’ll pack a bag. Now, let’s eat!”

  The room was still filled with tension, but they all ignored it, just like I did. My heart was sad, and, for some reason, I still couldn’t get the fact out of my head that he had stopped by.

  To apologize?

  Scold me more?

  Or… I shook the thought of my head. It couldn’t be for any other reason. That side of our relationship was officially non-existent.

  “Hey.” Kiersten nudged me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I forced another fake smile. “Totally. Just really tired.”

  She wrapped an arm around me and pulled me in for a tight hug. “Well, let’s get you fed so you can go to bed then.”

  Great. Bed. Just another reminder that I was in mine… not his.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “No man will ever love you as much as I love you,” I whispered in Mel’s ear when she was fast asleep. Time to put part of my plan into action. I went to my computer and started putting my journals into personal files. One copy sent to someone I’d never met, and the other copy? To the person who was going to carry out my revenge — again. The best people to pick on? Ones who wanted revenge, whose hearts were broken. I laughed at my own brilliance. I would probably still be laughing from hell. Most people want to leave behind a legacy, and that’s exactly what I was doing. —The Journal of Taylor B.

  Tristan

  FINDING HER EMAIL was easy. Sending the email? Not so much. I started typing then deleted the entire thing. With a growl, I typed again then deleted. I repeated this same process until finally settling with…

  [email protected] to [email protected]

  Are you okay?

  Dr. Tristan Blake

  UW Psychology Department

  I waited for about a minute before refreshing the page. When nothing happened, I freaked out over what I’d said. Should I have apologized? I’d rather do that to her face. With a groan, I wiped my face with my hands and started getting ready to turn in.

  I hit refresh a few more times before finally giving up. With a sigh, I crawled between the sheets and reached for the journal by my lamp.

  The Journal of Taylor B.

  It was the thing of nightmares. My nightmares, most likely hers. It was also such an addicting read I didn’t know what else to do. I’d only been halfway through it when I’d decided to make the trek across the country and take a semester teaching. The first few chapters had convinced me, and now the story of his insanity called to me. It called to that part of me who understood him, who understood that type of madness. I wasn’t sure what was so horrifying. The fact that I got it or the fact that I could end up just like him.

  My cell rang, jolting me out of my dark thoughts.

  It was my father. I couldn’t ignore him forever. With a curse, I picked up and barked a hello into the phone.

  “Well, that’s a nice greeting.” He chuckled. “Any trouble with the benefit?”

  A vision of Lisa in her black mask caused my body to tighten. “Nope, no trouble at all.”

  “Erica’s been asking about you.” He coughed and then sighed. I could picture him now, sitting near the fireplace, cigar in one hand, whiskey in the other. “You ignoring her phone calls too?”

  “I’ve been busy. Companies don’t run themselves, you know. Besides, I’m teaching this semester.”

  I could practically feel his scowl over the phone. “I told you it was unnecessary to stay that long away from everything. So, she wants to marry you, wants to move forward, start your life together. Instead, you run away with your tail between your legs.” He sighed. “You aren’t off your meds, are you?”

  “No.” I ground my teeth. “And you’ve always pounded it into my head that no decision is to be taken lightly. Think of my time away as my doing that, looking at every angle.”

  Another sigh. “As long as you’re back for Christmas.”

  “I will be.” It was a lie. A total lie. The last thing I wanted to do was go back to him, back to that life, back to the life he’d built for me.

  “Fantastic.” He sniffed. “I’ll talk to you later this week. Don’t forget to check in with the board every once in a while. I know you run a smooth ship, but I still worry.”

  “Always.” There he was; in the end it was always about money, about making more of it. And I’d had the Midas touch. I’d turned his multimillion-dollar
empire into a multibillion-dollar empire. I could have done it in my sleep. Because that’s the thing about madness… it breeds brilliance. For others? Like Taylor? It breeds death. Absolute death.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It took me a few days to put the chess pieces into place. To make sure all parties knew what their task was, to make sure she was broken enough to snap. To make sure it would happen exactly as I’d predicted. —The Journal of Taylor B.

  Lisa

  I IGNORED HIS EMAIL.

  And got to class fifteen minutes early.

  Part of the reason was because I hadn’t been able to sleep worth crap the night before and figured I may as well get a head start. Better to shock him to death than walk in a minute late and earn another scowl.

  “Hey.” Jack plopped down next to me. “You’re early!”

  “I am.” I returned his smile. He was easy, no pressure, kind of like Gabe. Not that I had any interest in him, but he was… nice to me. Unlike Tristan, who, by the looks of things, wanted to set me on fire with his eyes.

  Jack touched my arm. I looked up to see Tristan’s gaze trained on my arm and then narrowed in on Jack’s fingers.

  I pulled away and tucked my fallen hair behind my ear.

  “We’re two weeks into the semester.” Tristan started pacing in front of his desk. “I want you guys to start thinking about your first big project. Since this is Psychology of Emotion, I want you to pick an emotion to study. It has to be one of the four emotions. I’ll give you two minutes to pick a partner. Then I’ll give the rest of the instructions.”

  “Partner up, cowgirl,” Jack whispered next to me. “You in?” He held out his hand. I shook it and gave him a firm nod.

  “What do you want to study?” I asked, pulling out a fresh piece of paper.

  “Anger.” He’d said it with an edge in his voice, but when I looked up, his face was its normal goofy self. “That okay with you? It just seems the most complex. I mean, think about what anger entails? Revenge? Bloodshed? Wars?” He grinned. “Sorry. I’m a guy. I can’t help it.”