Diamonds in the Rough Page 17

  The thought of her mom made Courtney remember the Skype conversation they’d had earlier that month, which reminded her of something she wanted to ask Brett.

  “Do you know if we can see the records Adrian keeps on us?”

  He scrunched his eyebrows. “How did you get from slasher films to your personal records?”

  “So you do know about them?”

  “Only that we have them to help our bodyguards protect us,” he said. “Not much else. Why?”

  She took a deep breath. “You know how when we first met, I mentioned I thought my family was keeping something from me?”

  “About the kidnapping?”

  She nodded. “I let it go, thinking I was being paranoid. But I chatted on Skype with my mom earlier this month when she moved to outpatient treatment. I told her that Adrian had told me everything, and she seemed worried. Then when I told her what he had told me, she was relieved, as if there was something more about the story she didn’t want me to know. I asked Adrian about it afterward, and he told me I knew everything I needed to know…but it felt like an indirect answer. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something big being kept from me, and I want to find out what it is.”

  “And you think your personal records will tell you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “They might,” Courtney said. “Although Peyton asked her bodyguard if she could see hers, and he said we’re not allowed to. Have you ever seen yours?”

  “Nope,” Brett said. “I’ve never tried. The point of them is so our main bodyguards and night bodyguards can keep up-to-date on what we’ve been doing. They’re probably pretty boring. Especially mine, since it starts about a year ago, when my mom and I moved into the Diamond.”

  “If only we could sneak into Adrian’s office and search for them on his computer…” Courtney laughed, unable to believe she was contemplating this.

  “I would love to see that.” Brett smiled. “But Adrian’s office is guarded by people, cameras and who knows what other technology. You would have to be a skilled criminal to pull that off.”

  “So much for that idea.” She sighed.

  The waitress came over with their food, and Courtney took a bite of her vegetarian pasta. It was delicious—everything at the Grande Café was wonderful, since the chef was the Iron Chef America champion. Courtney had never seen the show, but from tasting his food, she understood why he’d won.

  “From everything you’ve told me, it definitely sounds like there’s more to the story,” Brett said. “We won’t be able to break into Adrian’s files, but we’ll find another way.”

  His optimism gave her a surge of hope. “You have an idea?”

  “Not right now,” he said. “But I believe you, and I’ll keep thinking about a way to get answers. Between the two of us, we’ll come up with something.”

  “Thanks,” she said softly. “It means a lot that you believe me.”

  “Of course I do.” He placed his fork down, focusing only on her. “You’re the most honest, trustworthy person I’ve met since transferring to Goodman and moving to the Diamond. If there’s any way for me to help, I will.”

  She couldn’t look away from him, and it was like her entire body had caught fire as she replayed the compliment in her mind. No one had ever said anything that sweet to her before.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I would like that. For you to help, I mean. That would be nice of you.” Her face heated—she must sound like a bumbling idiot—and she took another bite of her pasta. But she’d already eaten half of the huge portion and wasn’t hungry anymore, so she asked the waitress to box it up.

  Brett finished his hamburger, and he grabbed the check when the waitress placed it down.

  “I can get that.” Courtney reached for it, but he held it away from her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, seeming to enjoy this. “I’ve got it.”

  “I was here first,” she said. “You weren’t going to have dinner here before you saw me. Let me do it.” She had to pay for her half. It didn’t matter that both their credit cards went to Adrian’s bank account—if she let Brett pay for dinner, it would feel like a date.

  “Our credit cards go to the same place.” He slid his card into the slot. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Fine.” She couldn’t do anything else without causing a scene, and she didn’t want him to think she was overanalyzing the situation. This wasn’t a date. He was only being pragmatic.

  She leaned back and crossed her arms, as if she could demonstrate through body language that this was not a date, but he smiled at her, apparently entertained. She crossed her legs away from him, banging her knee against the bottom of the table, and he looked more amused. She huffed and sipped her water. This was so ridiculously frustrating.

  “I know you didn’t plan on going out after dinner,” he said, and she tensed, since the only continuation for that sentence had to be asking her to do something with him. “But have you heard about the Titanic ghost exhibit?”

  She smiled and widened her eyes, unable to help it—she loved the Titanic. “I know about the Titanic Artifact Exhibit,” she said. “I found it when I was looking up things to do in Vegas, although I haven’t gotten around to seeing it yet. But I didn’t know it was a ghost exhibit.”

  “It wasn’t designed to be a ghost exhibit.” Brett’s voice lowered, as though he was telling a scary story around a campfire. “But they have real artifacts from the ship, and since the exhibit opened, strange things have happened there. Some say that the previous owners of the objects in the museum haunt the tourists who walk through. The picture of the ship’s designer, who made the decision to lower the number of lifeboats, has been taken off the wall as if those who died didn’t want to display it. Then there’s the Lady in Black, a ghost wearing a black dress and her hair in a bun, who walks around not speaking to anyone. One staff member claims she disappeared in front of his eyes.”

  He told the story so dramatically that Courtney had unconsciously moved closer to him as he spoke. Once he was finished, there was so much electricity between them that she could barely breathe.

  “Sounds creepy,” she finally said, shivering at the thought of ghosts of the Titanic passengers haunting the exhibit. “But you don’t believe any of that’s true, right?”

  “Who knows?” he said. “I’ve only been once, a few years ago on a school field trip. We didn’t see any ghosts. But on Halloween night, the tour guides dress up as dead passengers and give a special ghost tour. I’ve always wanted to check it out.”

  “Let me guess,” Courtney said. “You want to go now?”

  His eyes lit up. “Are you agreeing to come?”

  She bit her lip. The Titanic ghost tour sounded fun. Then again, this reminded her of earlier in the summer when Brett had taken her to hotels around Vegas, which had eventually led to them kissing on the night of the grand opening of the Diamond. Her eyes traveled to his lips, and she couldn’t help it—she wanted him to kiss her again now.

  “You’re thinking too hard about this.” By his confident tone, he knew he’d won. “You don’t have plans tonight, I don’t have plans tonight, and we both want to find out if the Titanic exhibit is haunted. Why shouldn’t we go?”

  Courtney could think of a few reasons—mainly that being around Brett made her feelings zigzag out of control—but she’d told him why they couldn’t date enough times, and she didn’t feel like rehashing it again. Anyway, this didn’t have to be a date. Just two friends hanging out when they had no other plans.

  Plus, she wanted to see the ghost exhibit, and she didn’t want to go by herself. If she said no, she would have to wait until next year.

  “I’m in,” she said.

  It was against her better judgment, but she couldn’t turn back now.

  Chapter 15: Pe
yton

  Peyton’s friend Jill was coming over in an hour so they could go to the Fetish & Fantasy Halloween Ball at the Hard Rock, and she still wasn’t sure what to wear. She’d ordered a few costumes online and couldn’t pick between her three favorites. Usually she would ask her sisters’ advice, but Savannah was at Myst, and Courtney was downstairs getting dinner. Which left one option. Well, she had other options—like texting Jill pictures and asking her opinion—but the option she had in mind had more interesting possibilities.

  She brought the three costumes into her bathroom and checked herself out in the mirror, adjusting her push-up bra to show off maximum cleavage. Then she picked up her phone, chewing the inside of her cheek as she stared at the screen. What if she got rejected…again?

  Deciding to take a chance, she opened a new text message.

  I’m having an emergency and need your help. Come to my room??

  She pressed Send. Her heart pounded as she waited at the end of her bed, crossing her legs to show them off at their best angle. Was she about to make a fool of herself?

  She didn’t have much time to worry before Jackson burst through her door. His suit was perfectly in place, and his hair was sheered so close to his head that he could pass as a soldier. He reminded her of a blond Channing Tatum.

  “What’s the emergency?” He stood straight, concern in his hazel eyes. But that concern gave her hope. Maybe all wasn’t lost between them.

  If she was doing this, she might as well go all out. She walked to the door and locked it. “It’s a Halloween emergency.” She kept her voice low and calm so her nerves wouldn’t show, but she gripped the doorknob to remain steady. “I need help deciding which costume to wear.”

  The worry in his eyes shifted to annoyance. “You brought me in here for a fashion emergency?”

  Peyton’s throat tightened, and she swallowed down the panic. Had this been a mistake? But he was still here, so she might as well make the best of it.

  “My sisters aren’t around, so I figured you could help since you were standing outside the condo anyway.” The words came out so fast that she needed to pause to catch her breath. “Unless you’re busy doing something else?”

  “This isn’t professional, Peyton.” He clenched his jaw, his eyes not meeting hers.

  Unbelievable. If she’d told any other guy that she wanted to give him a private show of three assumedly barely-there costumes, they would have jumped at the opportunity. But not Jackson. He always had to be so damned stoic.

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “At least this is in private and doesn’t involve you publicly dragging me out of a cabana.”

  “You’re lucky I got you out of that cabana when I did,” he said. “If I hadn’t, those photos posted online might have been worse.”

  “You know about the photos?” Peyton’s stomach sank. “Does that mean Adrian saw them, too?”

  “Yes, I know about them, but Adrian doesn’t,” he said. “The photos were posted in a high school forum, not a major website or tabloid.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she said. Although if Jackson had seen the photos, it meant he’d seen every cruel thing Madison had written about Peyton and her sisters. He had to know none of it was true. Well, almost none. She shuffled her feet and glanced down at the floor, hoping he wasn’t thinking about the part that had mentioned Oliver.

  “At least you had a daiquiri at the bar—no one can prove it wasn’t a virgin drink,” he said. “But you were drinking with Hunter in the cabana, and if the Goodman administration found out, it wouldn’t be you who got in trouble—it would be him. He could get fired, and with a mark like that on his record, he might never get a teaching job again. His career would be ruined.”

  Peyton ground her teeth together. She hated it, but Jackson was right. “I can’t change what happened,” she said. “But you saw me delete those photos from Madison’s phone. And the second time I hung out with Hunter, the cabana doors were closed.”

  “You shouldn’t be ‘hanging out’ with him at all,” Jackson said, his voice rising. “He’s a teacher, you’re a student.”

  “I’m almost eighteen,” she said. “He’s not that much older than me.”

  “You turn eighteen in March.” Jackson’s voice revealed no emotion, and Peyton’s chest panged. Would she ever be able to reach him again…like she had that first week? “Even after your birthday, Hunter will still be an authority figure,” he continued. “Any relationship with him beyond that is inappropriate.”

  Peyton’s eyes tingled, and she blinked away tears. She refused to let Jackson know he was getting to her. Because it wasn’t Hunter she suspected he was thinking about, but himself. Would he ever see her as something beyond an assignment—as a person worth getting to know?

  “I actually had a good conversation with Hunter that day at the bar,” she said. “Did it cross your mind that maybe he was enjoying hanging out with me?”

  “He should be adult enough to know better than to lead you on.” Jackson didn’t miss a beat.

  “Or maybe he just hasn’t forgotten how to have fun.” She sucked in a frustrated breath. “But if it makes you happy, I won’t talk to him again outside of school.”

  “Thank you,” Jackson said, his shoulders relaxing. “That does make me feel better.”

  “Good,” she said, although she felt anything but.

  “Does this mean I can resume my position outside your condo?”

  “Well, now that you’re here, I really would like your help,” she said. “I’m leaving soon for Halloween, and I still don’t know what to wear. It’s only three costumes.”

  “Fine,” he gave in. “Where are they?”

  “In my bathroom.” She bit her lip and smiled. “I’m going to give you a fashion show.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were rushed for time?”

  “It’s impossible to tell how something looks unless it’s off the hanger,” she said. “And if I’m running a little late, it won’t be the end of the world.”

  He said nothing, which she took as him giving in, and she hurried into the bathroom. She studied the costumes on the counter. Which one first? They all looked hot on her, but she started with the one that covered the most skin. Not that it covered a lot of skin—just more than the other two options.

  She reentered the bedroom and posed, expecting a visible reaction from Jackson. But his bored expression didn’t change.

  “You don’t like it?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s the same as all the other dresses you wear, but with cheetah all over it.”

  “It’s not cheetah.” She pulled at the bottom of the form-fitting minidress. “It’s leopard. And the headband with the ears makes it obvious it’s a costume.”

  “It’s unoriginal,” he said. “Half the girls in Vegas will be dressed like a jungle animal tonight.”

  “Fine.” So much for the leopard dress. It was also her least favorite of the three options—for the same reason Jackson had said—so she wasn’t bummed by his lack of enthusiasm. Just wait until he saw the other two costumes.

  Back in the bathroom, she put on the next one—a “sexy princess slave” costume she’d found online. The top was a golden bikini with snake patterns on it, and the matching bottom had two pieces of brown fabric in front and back with enough space between them so they didn’t cover her legs. The model wearing the costume on the package had her hair in a side braid, so Peyton quickly braided her hair and stepped out into her room.

  Jackson’s eyes widened, and he smiled. That was more like it.

  She placed her hands on her hips to draw his attention to her bare stomach. “I take it you like this one?”

  “I do, but it’s unexpected,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a Star Wars fan.”

  “Star Wars?” She
scrunched her nose. “I’ve never seen Star Wars.”

  “Then how did you find that costume?”

  “Online.” She shook her hips so the fabric danced around her legs. “In the Sexy Costume section. It’s a ‘princess slave girl’ costume.”

  “And did this ‘princess slave girl’ have a name?”

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes narrowed. “I think she did, but I didn’t pay attention to it.”

  “She did.” He sounded so obnoxiously full of himself. “Does Princess Leia sound familiar?”

  Peyton scowled. “Please, don’t tell me she’s a character from Star Wars.”

  “You’ll be attracting nerd boys all night.” Jackson chuckled, and even though Peyton was annoyed, she loved hearing him laugh. “Beware of Luke Skywalkers and Han Solos breaking out in light-saber duels for your attention.”

  “There will be no light-whatever duels, because I’m not dressing up as someone from a weird sci-fi movie.”

  “Star Wars isn’t weird.” Jackson stood straighter, looking honestly offended. “If you gave the movies a chance, you might like them.”

  “Whatever.” Code for no way in hell. “Hopefully you’ll like the next costume.”

  “Change away, princess.”

  She ignored his sarcasm and went back into the bathroom. The final option was the hottest of the three—a costume no straight male could refuse. If Jackson didn’t like it…well, then Peyton knew some bars in San Francisco that might cater more to his taste.

  She walked back into the bedroom, placed a hand on her waist and popped her hip. “What do you think of this one?”

  Jackson stared at her, his eyes so intense that Peyton could barely breathe. “I like it,” he finally said. “What’s it supposed to be?”

  “A nurse,” she said slowly.

  “In what world do nurses wear leather miniskirts, crop tops and fishnets?” His voice was calm and controlled, but Peyton had seen enough of his initial reaction to know he wasn’t unaffected. Could her plan actually be working?