Rapture & Ruin by Julia Sykes
Chapter 5
Allie
Iglanced out the cantina window, and my heart stopped. A terribly familiar, hulking figure leaned casually against the side of a bus stop across the street. The vibrant city lights shone brightly above him, gleaming over his unruly mass of black curls and well-worn leather jacket. Shadows pooled beneath his hair, concealing his brow and eyes. His high cheekbones were just as harshly defined as I remembered: sharp and feral.
Max Ferrara. He was watching me, stalking me. I’d foolishly thought he’d let me go, but he wasn’t willing to back off and leave me in peace. Was he waiting to get me alone again? Would he kidnap me and hold me hostage this time?
“Hey, babe.” Isabel brushed her hand over mine, and I jolted at the casual show of support. “That asshole can’t bother you anymore. Not today, and not next week.”
For a moment, I froze. How did she know about Max? I hadn’t breathed a word about my abduction or my volatile captor. The dark secret was a rabid beast in my throat, desperate to claw its way out of me. But if I unburdened myself to my friends, I’d put my father at risk. I’d sworn to Max that I wouldn’t tell anyone what he’d done to me, and I intended to keep that promise until the day I died.
Isabel couldn’t know about Max. I hadn’t slipped up and revealed anything about my ordeal. Had I?
“You said your boss wants to fire him, right?” she prompted when I didn’t respond right away.
A bus stopped in front of the dark figure across the street, hiding him from view. When it pulled away, he was gone.
I ran shaky fingers through my hair. Gavin. She’s talking about Gavin.
“Right,” I said faintly, struggling to direct my focus back on my friends. The man in the leather jacket wasn’t necessarily Max. Lots of men had curly black hair and high cheekbones. And had aloof, menacing vibes that pulsed from their massive bodies, making passersby skirt to the side to avoid their dangerous aura.
“I still think you should tell Mr. Callahan the truth,” Charlie said, her soft Georgia drawl taking on that stern, grown-up tone. She was only three months older than me, but she was by far the most mature of the four of us.
“Mr. Callahan?” Davis snickered. “Don’t you mean Mike? Allie, you’re totally the teacher’s pet. And I agree. Make him fire that douchebag, Gavin. Sounds like you have your boss wrapped around your little finger.”
Isabel squeezed my hand. “Of course she does. Allie is awesome like that.” She released me so she could raise her margarita, tipping it toward me in celebration of my supposed awesomeness. “You’ve got this, babe. You’re the total package: smart, sweet, and gorgeous. No wonder Gavin is a jealous little bitch.”
“Jealous?” Davis’ brows rose to his light blond hair, his sea green eyes going wide. His chest puffed out with indignation, making his lithe dancer’s body appear bulkier than usual. “More like horny. He totally wishes he could get in your pants, honey.”
“Davis!” Charlie squawked. “Gavin is terrible. He’s not getting anywhere near Allie’s pants.”
“I didn’t say he was.” Davis waved his margarita, a little bit of tequila-tinged liquid spilling over the side of the glass with his vehement gesture. “Just that he wants to. Remember how he got that mean girl to send you the note in high school?” he asked me.
As though I could forget.
When I was thirteen, Gavin had gotten a popular girl to pass me a note from him, saying that he liked me. Despite his previous cruelties, I’d been desperate for social validation, and my heart had leapt.
A low groan left my chest. “Please don’t remind me. He loudly and scathingly rejected me in the cafeteria, making sure the whole school witnessed my humiliation.”
Davis leaned in closer to me, his voice dropping low like he was telling a secret. “Trust me, I was the bullied gay kid in high school. The meanest bullies are always the ones who want to fuck you. They know they can’t without damaging their popularity, so they take out their sexual frustration on you. Little bitches.”
“Little dick energy,” Isabel amended with a sage nod.
I shook my head. “You guys didn’t know me in high school. I was a total mess.” A wry smile tugged at my lips, and I finally released most of the tension that knotted my stomach. My friends were amazing, and I’d so much rather bask in their camaraderie than spend my evening on edge, looking for signs of Max in every shadow.
“You would’ve called me a fashion disaster,” I told Isabel. My bestie was so cool that sometimes I was in total awe that we were even friends. With her lustrous black hair, dark eyes, and bronze complexion, Isabel was nothing short of a goddess. She had over a hundred thousand followers on social media for a reason. Star power didn’t even begin to cover how brightly she sparkled. There was no doubt in my mind that her recent leading role in an off-Broadway play would start her path to A-list celebrity status.
Charlie slung an arm over my shoulder. “That’s why you have me.” She lifted a warm tortilla chip and waved it like an imaginary magic wand. “I’m your fashion fairy godmother.”
I laughed for the first time in what felt like days, shedding more of the terrible, lingering fear that’d burdened me. “And I’m eternally grateful.”
Charlie had been in my English Literature class during my freshman year, and I’d helped tutor her when she struggled with the material. She was a curvy blonde bombshell and a Fashion major, and at first, I’d been intimidated by her chic style. But she’d taken me under her wing and shown me the ways of Ted Baker and Bobbi Brown. Now, I was nearly as polished as she was, thanks to the fact that she took being my personal stylist seriously. I’d be sartorially lost without her.
“You can’t help it that your dad’s clueless when it comes to girly stuff,” Isabel interjected in her signature protective tone. The oldest of five siblings, she came from a large, tight-knit Puerto Rican family, and she took her role as big sister seriously. “He didn’t know how to help you style yourself when you were a teenager. That’s why you have us now.”
I released a grateful sigh. “And I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Sometimes, it still seemed surreal that these wonderful people actually liked me and wanted to spend time with me. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve their love and loyalty, but we’d become as close as family over the last three years.
“You would be just fine without us, because you’re awesome,” Davis reminded me. Everyone seemed to be on the cheer-up-Allie train this evening, and after the awful things I’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours, I didn’t feel like protesting their overly lavish praise.
Instead, I took a deep gulp of my margarita and rubbed my locket, my cheeks flushing at the intense compliments they were piling on. “Thanks,” I murmured, still not used to accepting so much enthusiastic kindness, even though years had passed since my nightmarish high school experiences. “But I really wouldn’t be fine without you. I love you guys so much.”
“We love you too, babe,” Isabel promised as Davis and Charlie echoed their agreement. She glanced around and made eye contact with our server, who hastened toward our table, his eyes wide on Isabel. I wasn’t sure if his awestruck glow was due to her stunning, natural beauty or if he was a social media fan. As soon as he reached us, Isabel ordered another round of margaritas, and he rushed off to the bar.
“We need more tequila,” she announced, her ochre gaze fixing on me. “You deserve a night to unwind. You work too hard, and you’ve had a hell of a week.”
“Maybe if we get enough drinks in you, we can convince you to get Gavin fired. You’re seriously not thinking clearly on this one,” Davis said decisively. “If I had the chance to crush one of my bullies’ dreams, I’d totally do it.”
“That’s because you’re a badass,” Isabel approved. “Allie, you should take notes.”
I tugged on a lock of my hair and shifted in my seat, slightly uncomfortable despite their loving support. “You guys, I can’t get him fired. His dad is one of my father’s biggest donors.”
“You think Gavin’s dad would withdraw his support if you made sure his son gets what he deserves?” Charlie’s delicately arched brows drew together in outrage, her electric blue eyes sparking. “That’s bullshit.”
I shrugged. “That’s politics.”
“Well, it’s still bullshit,” Davis asserted. “But your dad needs to be mayor, so I guess that means the douchebag gets a pass.” His mouth took on a glum twist.
Davis practically hero-worshipped my dad because of his progressive policies. We’d first met at a rally for the Young Democrats at our university, and we’d clicked immediately; we were passionate about the same political initiatives. Davis had totally freaked when he found out I was Ron Fitzgerald’s daughter. It was a minor miracle that he’d gotten past being starstruck and started being frank with me—a real friend.
He and Isabel were already close, both self-professed theater nerds from the same high school. So he’d introduced us, and I’d introduced them to Charlie, and here we were: an eclectic little family.
The next round of margaritas arrived, along with complimentary tableside guacamole. Dutifully, Isabel gave the server a megawatt smile and snapped some pictures with her phone. He gushed that he loved her posts and was one of her thousands of followers. She was as gracious and humble as ever; Isabel never took her budding success for granted.
Once he left, she turned her camera on us. “I need some candids,” she announced. “Come on, Allie. Look like you’re happy to see us.” She shot me an exaggerated pout. “Don’t let that douchebag ruin your night.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear and ducked my head, wishing I could hide under the table until this part was over. Overcoming my shyness to pose for Isabel’s pictures was a challenge on my best days. And this was so not one of them.
“It’s not Gavin,” I said truthfully. I couldn’t tell them about what’d happened with Max, but I could at least share a little of the anxiety that’d haunted me all day. “I, um, overslept and didn’t have time to do my makeup this morning. Then I worked late and came straight here. My blouse is wrinkled, and my skin looks like crap. I didn’t even put on mascara.”
“You don’t need mascara,” Charlie admonished gently. “And you have gorgeous, clear skin. I never would’ve taught you my makeup tips and tricks if I’d known you would rely on them so much. You look beautiful no matter what. Trust me, no one will be focusing on your wrinkled blouse.”
Davis shot me a sympathetic look. “Gavin really did a number on your self-esteem today, didn’t he? Look, I’ve seen pics of you from high school, and yeah, your style was a train wreck.”
“Davis!” Isabel hissed, going into protective big sister mode. “Not cool.”
He waved her off, keeping me fixed in a no-nonsense green gaze. “We all go through an awkward phase. I used to wear acid washed double denim. Double denim, Allie. It was tragic. But you’re fabulous, and now that you’re all grown up, you look just as fabulous on the outside. Don’t let that bully dull your shine. He doesn’t deserve one more second of your time.”
“Accurate,” Charlie agreed, tugging me close in a one-armed hug. Despite my lingering insecurities, my lips curved in a smile. I loved my friends so damn much.
Isabel snapped a pic and grinned at me, unrepentant. “Perfect candid for the socials. You two look adorable.”
“Excuse me!” Davis said, affronted at being left out.
Isabel captured an image of his indignant glower and snickered. She showed it to him, and he groaned. “No, don’t post that. I look constipated.”
She pulled him close and took a selfie of the two of them as a loud, genuine laugh burst from my chest. Their antics cleared away the last of the storm clouds that’d hung over me all day. Isabel beamed at me and snapped another pic of me laughing.
“Stunning,” she declared.
I lifted my margarita to my lips and took a long drink. It was past time for me to unwind, and I didn’t have to go into work tomorrow. I had freaking earned this salt-laced tequila.
I eased back into my seat and sipped at my beverage, basking in the pleasant warmth of the alcohol and the effervescent energy of my friends. Nothing bad could touch me when I was surrounded by their love. Not Gavin’s bullying and not the haunting memory of Max’s snarling face. For a few blissful hours, I was perfectly content.
I should’ve known it was too good to last. When I stumbled off the bus and began to close the short distance to my apartment, I stopped dead in my tracks. A man with tousled black hair and a leather jacket lurked directly across the street, half hidden in shadow.
My nightmare had followed me home. My initial instincts had been right: Max was stalking me.