Bad Influencer by Kenzie Reed

Chapter Thirty-Three

Elliott

One week later…

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Trevor groans. Sweat beads on his forehead and trickles down the side of his face.

I have no pity for him whatsoever. “You earned it. And I can’t believe you never told me that you have a fear of heights.”

He clings to the billboard scaffolding with a death grip. “You never noticed that I avoid all the tallest roller coasters?”

I purse my lips, thinking about it. “I mean, now that you mention it...” I look down below us. Edith is standing there, hands on hips, glaring. She disapproves of my plan, and since she’s our new CEO—a move that was very popular with our investors—I would normally listen to her. But this is important.

Jillian’s been sort of thawing this week. She let me go to Death Row Doggies and volunteer with her. We went three times, and I scooped cages for hours and didn’t utter a single word of protest.

She’s also agreed to take the permanent position at our company, another move enthusiastically embraced by the investors. I’m not saying they all necessarily care about animals or sustainability, but they care about their bottom line and they know that having her work for us will go over like gangbusters with our customers.

I know she’ll come around eventually, but I also know that for a screwup as big as mine, mere apology is not enough. I owe her this.

And that’s why Trevor and I are up on the scaffolding with our climbing gear, waiting. A crowd has gathered. TV news vans are pulling up.

But I’m holding out for… the one person who needs to see this. And here she is. Jillian’s responded to my urgent message, and her Volvo is pulling up next to a news van. Jillian, Ari, and Bronwyn spill out. They hurry towards the billboard. Jillian stops and cups her hands around her mouth.

“Elliott! What are you doing up there?” she yells up at me.

“Scaling a billboard for something I’m passionate about! Obviously!”

“You what?” She cups her hand around her ear. “I can hardly hear you! Yell louder!”

“You need to see this! Don’t try to stop me!” I call to her.

“I wasn’t going to!” she shouts back.

“Why not?” Trevor groans. “Why isn’t she going to stop us?”

“More climbing, less talking,” I say.

He lets out a hiss of frustration. Trevor is actually hissing at me. God, I wish I was on the ground so I could fall down and roll around laughing.

“I hate you so much right now.”

I ignore him and start climbing. I, fortunately, do not fear heights, and I scamper up the ladder without a qualm. Trevor follows me. He stops to puke three times, but that’s on him. He started this whole damn thing.

When we reach the billboard’s narrow platform, I take my backpack off and pull out a can of spray-paint. Then I awkwardly scrawl my message right over my own face. ”I love Jillian!” Except the word ‘love’ is a heart shape. Kind of. I mean, I’m a numbers guy, not an artist.

By the time we climb down, there’s a sizeable crowd being held back by police.

Two uniformed police officers, one male and one female, stride up to me. The guy, whose name tag identifies him as Sgt. Gonzalez, turns to me, brow furrowing in puzzlement. “I potato Jillian?” he asks me.

“It’s not a potato. It’s more like a fish, kind of,” corrects his partner, whose name tag says Officer Sullivan, tipping her head back and squinting up at the sign.

“A fish? You see a fish?” he challenges her.

She nods. “Sure. It’s obvious. ‘I fish Jillian.’”

Jillian stands next to them, with Ari and Bronwyn by her side. “I potato fish Jillian!” Bronwyn hoots. Jillian’s doubled over in laughter.

“It’s a heart!” I yell. “I heart Jillian! As in, I love her! I love Jillian!” The crowd hears me and cheers loudly. I mean, who doesn’t love a crazy grand gesture?

The officer looks at it again, then shakes his head. “Nope. I’m not seeing it. That’s definitely a potato.”

“Oh my God. ‘I potato Jillian.’” Tears of laughter are streaming down Jillian’s face. “I am never, never going to let you forget this.”

“Understandable. If the shoe was on the other foot, I’d never let you forget it either.” I flash what I hope is an adorable smile. “But the important question is, did it work?”

“Jury’s still out,” she huffs. But her smile and the gleam in her eyes say it all. “By the way, is Trevor going to die? He doesn’t look so great.”

Trevor is swaying like he’s going to faint. I mean, the guy was in the army for four years.

“How in the hell did you make it through boot camp?” I say.

“Well, they didn’t make me climb a fucking billboard for starters. Oh my God.” He doubles over, hands braced on his knees.

“Sir. Mr. Potato Man? You’re going to have to come with me,” Sgt. Gonzalez says.

“Fish!” Officer Sullivan says indignantly. “He’s a Fish Man! Have you never seen a fish before?”

“I’m Elliott Bradford. My family rents this billboard! I can do whatever I want to it,” I protest.

“But it’s on city property. And you’re causing a public nuisance.” Just my luck to encounter a cop who wouldn’t recognize romance if it bit him in the ass.

“Could I please speak to my girlfriend really quickly?” I plead.

Without waiting for him to answer, Jillian hurries up to me, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses my cheek. “Babe. I do forgive you. I will wait for you, no matter how long you’re inside. The years will march on, and I will remain ever faithful.”

I snort in annoyance. “Very funny.” It’s fine, though. Getting publicly roasted is part of my penance, and I deserve it. “I’m sorry, Jillian. So very sorry.”

The cop is tapping his foot impatiently. His female partner is holding up her cell phone and snapping pictures of the billboard.

“I forgive you. But I’m still trying to understand what happened here tonight, though,” Jillian says. “Why did Trevor go with you?”

“Because everything that happened was all his fault,” I grumble.

The next few hours are kind of a blur. I get to find out what it’s like to ride in the back of a police car—it smells of things I don’t even want to think about, there’s no legroom, and the seat is hard as a rock.

Nothing can dent my happiness, though. Everything’s fallen into place. Trevor was able to uncover proof that Cameron was secretly, illegally working for Park City properties, and the investors dropped that deal like a rock. Cameron’s now facing criminal charges for sabotaging the park rides, and Park City’s public stock has plunged.

And most importantly? Jillian’s going to forgive me.

After Trevor and I cool our heels at the police station for a couple of hours, a lawyer sent by Edith arrives, and we’re let off with a stern warning. I get a message from Jillian saying she’s coming to pick me up. Trevor, grumbling and shooting me dirty looks, takes a cab home without me.

I’m standing outside the station, and the sun is rising when she pulls up. I slide into the passenger seat and lean forward to kiss her, my hand sliding behind her head to grip her hair.

Her soft lips part beneath mine, and she returns the kiss with heat and hunger. When we finally come up for air, the windows are fogged.

“God, I missed you. Even when I hated you,” she murmured. “I missed falling asleep in your arms. I missed the way I feel when you walk into a room. I just feel stronger and somehow…full when I’m with you. Like you fill an empty place inside me.”

Every word is like a balm for the bruises on my aching soul. “I missed you so freaking much. I can’t believe my dumb ass nearly ended us. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

She grins mischievously. “And for the record, I potato you too.”

“It was a heart!” I protest indignantly.

“Of course it was,” she says soothingly. “Anyone could see that. Except the cops. And the news reporters, they seemed a little confused. And anyone with eyes. But in addition to tatering you, I also love you.”

“I love you too, Jillian Fletcher.”

“I just can’t believe you did something so crazy,” she marvels. She holds up her hand for me to high five, and I oblige. “Respect,” she says. “But don’t ever do that again.”

“I regret nothing,” I say firmly. “But I won’t do it again. I promise that I’ll never again screw up so badly that such a grand gesture is necessary. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

She starts the car up, and we pull away from the station and she heads south on Fifth Avenue. “All right. Here’s the rules,” she says. “You’re not allowed to say sorry again. We’re starting with a clean slate, and the expectation that if you ever have doubts or questions about me or our relationship, you talk to me like a big boy instead of shouting accusations at me. Also, by the way, where are we going? I’m just kind of driving aimlessly right now.”

“That is an excellent question.” I frown in thought. “Not my parents’ house, there’s no damn privacy there. My mother walks in without knocking. The maids come in at random times… Hey. I know. How about to your grandmother’s cabin?”

“Brilliant idea.” She grins. Then she stifles a huge yawn. In the distance, the horizon is lightening as dawn approaches. I’m still so hyped up on adrenaline, I don’t think I’ll need to sleep again this week, so I have her pull over so I can drive.

Jillian falls asleep as we make our way out of the city. My body aches with desire for her. Ever since we broke up, I’ve craved her scent, her touch, her taste…

I park in front of her cabin, imagining what I’m going to do to her the second we walk through that door. I’m going to take my time and taste every inch of her body. Jillian fishes out her keys, and we hurry up the pathway. We walk in—and she freezes on the spot. Then she screams, a blood-chilling sound that rises and swirls in the air.

Her mother and father, stark naked, are on the couch. Sofa pillows and clothes are scattered everywhere. There’s a bra hanging from the ceiling light. Horrified, I look away.

Jillian claps her hands over her eyes. “Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?” she wails.

“What does it look like we’re doing?” her mother shouts back. “We’re having a second honeymoon!”

“Why couldn’t you have a second honeymoon in your own house?”

“Because we’re doing a mini vacation, since we can’t take a real one!” her father chimes in.

“My eyes! My brain! Damn it, I didn’t even know you guys were here! Where is your car?” Jillian takes a couple of steps back and bumps into me. I steady her.

“Theo needed it because his car’s in the shop and Pansy needs their minivan for the kids. He dropped us off here. Can you please leave now?” Her mother’s voice is high and aggrieved. “We’re still honeymooning!”

They don’t need to tell us twice. Jillian’s already backing out. I have to guide her, because her hands are fused onto her face.

“We shall never speak of this,” Jillian says fiercely as I back her car out of the driveway.

“Never,” I agree. “Speak of what?”

We’re silent for several minutes as I navigate the pitch-dark country roads. Finally, Jillian speaks up. “I, too, would like a honeymoon. Even though we’re not married,” she says. “My house doesn’t really have any privacy either, though. I have earplugs because otherwise I’d hear everything Bronwyn and Ari are doing. Can we go to your super-seducer lair?”

The drive back to my office feels endless.

“How long can one man survive blue balls? Asking for a friend,” I groan.

“Don’t talk about it. Do you know how many batteries I’ve gone through since we broke up?” Jillian whimpers.

About an hour later, we burst into the bedroom suite at my office…

And interrupt Trevor and Wisteria. They’re naked on my couch. Clothing is scattered everywhere. The room reeks of sex and incense.

“Wow. I was right after all,” Jillian says smugly.

Seriously. That’s her takeaway? “Oh my God! Why? Why is this happening?” I yell. Now it’s me covering my eyes. Jillian may also be covering her eyes. I have no idea. All I know is I’m throbbing with frustrated desire and ready to punch someone.

“Bro! Have you ever heard of knocking?” Trevor shouts at me.

“When it comes to my own damn suite? No! It didn’t occur to me! Why are you here?” I yell at them.

“The same reason you came here! There’s no privacy at your house!” Wisteria cries. “And Trevor’s uncle is visiting him, so we can’t go there. Also, go away, please. I’m teaching him about chakras.”

“Yeah she is,” Trevor says smugly.

Jillian and I back out. I mean, I could argue that they should be the ones to leave, but after what they’ve probably done on my couch, there’s no way I’m staying in that room. Also, I’m burning the furniture.

“Well, now what?” Jillian asks when we make it to the ground floor.

“I’m going to book us a suite at a hotel in town.” I stifle a whimper. “Sweet Jesus. We really need our own place.”

“We do?”

“We really do. Because I’m not going to miss spending another night with the woman that I really, truly potato.”