One Last Promise (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 2) Page 9

  “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure. Name it.”

  “You know Damon, right? What am I thinking? He’s your brother’s friend, so of course you know him. The next time you talk with him, could you ask if he likes me? It’s probably stupid, but I kind of think he’s into someone else, and I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

  Kelsey immediately recalled their conversation last week at the diner and lost her breath. Heat flooded into her face. “Other than last week at the party, I’ve actually only talked to him one time.” She needed to pause to collect her composure. “But my brother tells me he’s only into getting laid.”

  Cassandra furrowed her brow. “What’re you telling me?” She placed her hands on her hips and stood with a rigid posture. “He’s playing me?”

  Kelsey hadn’t expected such a swift attitude adjustment. Then again, she couldn’t blame Cassandra. “I’m only telling you what my brother told me. I don’t even know if it’s true.” It occurred to her that she may have actually spoken the truth. Even though her brother wouldn’t lie, she also knew that Alex was over-protective and that he might exaggerate a little to prevent her from considering Damon as a romantic interest.

  Cassandra sighed, letting her stiff stance relax. “I hope so. I can’t deal with that anymore.” Her face reddened. She shook her head, embarrassed. “Too much information, I know.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  “I think I should get back.” Cassandra pulled out a post-it from her purse, wrote down her number, and handed it to Kelsey. “In case you’d like to get a drink sometime and talk.”

  “Definitely.” She smiled as Cassandra headed back up the steps to meet Damon. Apparently, she didn’t need to touch up her make-up. And although Kelsey felt a little better about harboring secret feelings for Damon, she felt horrible knowing that Cassandra liked him.

  * * *

  On the outskirts of the dance floor, Damon felt a moment of indecision the moment Kelsey broke away from Paul. Earlier she’d caught sight of him, and he didn’t want her to confront him and accuse him of stalking her. Could that term apply to his situation? He didn’t want to answer that question, fearing that he might need to respond in the affirmative.

  He’d watched Kelsey dancing and couldn’t control the envy that overwhelmed him, couldn’t deny that he wanted the opportunity to make her smile brighter than the way she did while in Paul’s company, couldn’t get over the idea that they would have so much fun if she’d just give him a chance.

  Upon seeing Kelsey head toward the restroom, Damon let out a breath in relief. It afforded him the perfect opportunity to discover Paul’s intentions. He followed Paul toward the bar, where he placed two glasses filled with ice cubes on the countertop. When Paul turned back to the dance floor, Damon “accidentally” bumped into his shoulder, almost knocking the man off his feet.

  “Damn,” he said, grabbing hold of Paul’s thin bicep and straightening him upright. “Didn’t see you there. You okay?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Paul said, ignoring him and scanning the floor with an intense gaze.

  “Pretty packed here tonight,” Damon said.

  “Always is.”

  “You been here often?”

  “Best spot in the burbs to pick up a hot chick.” Paul turned to face him and lifted an eyebrow. “Or maybe more than one.” He unveiled a wide grin.

  Damon had to control himself from throwing a punch and knocking his teeth out. Is this what Kelsey had gotten messed up in? The type of man she’d tried to avoid? Anger scorched through every vein in Damon’s body. But he had to regain control. He needed to gather every bit of data he could from the phony standing in front of him.

  “I’m here with this fine looking piece tonight, but you can bet I’ll be on the prowl again tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Damon said, barely squeezing out the word, “for you.”

  “The best part,” Paul said, “is that so many young chicks like a revolving door of men.” He gestured to a dark-haired woman who barely looked of drinking age. The woman danced in a slow, slinky rhythm, completely out of touch with the pulse-pounding beats, while rubbing her tight rear against the thighs of a man with slicked-back hair, lending the impression that he spent each week day trading investment portfolios. “I nailed that one last weekend. That dude is in for a treat…if she doesn’t pass out first.”

  “No kidding,” Damon said. Once again, he held back the urge to attack Paul.

  “Hey, you seem like a good wingman. I’m Paul Marley.”

  “Damon. That woman you’re with tonight? She can’t be like…” He pointed to the girl Paul had apparently bedded.

  “No. This woman I got tonight? She’s way smarter. And funnier. I can’t wait to slip it in that fine piece. That ass won’t quit!” His smile grew bright. “And I’m on my way, partner. I. Am. On. My. Way.”

  To control himself, Damon grabbed the bottom corner of the countertop and lifted it with such strength that the board lifted upward until it buckled, revealing that he’d popped a nail loose. Of course, no one heard it happen with the music pumping through the hall. He couldn’t let this asshole put his hands on Kelsey. He had to do something. But his mind, circling with thoughts of taking this jerkoff out back and teaching him a lesson in male dignity, wouldn’t give him the chance to devise a plan to prevent it from happening.

  “But I’m in no rush,” said Paul. “I could tap that ass tonight, but I’ve got other things on my mind.”

  That comment disentangled the negative thoughts in Damon’s brain. “Marriage?” he asked. The idea that Kelsey might wed a prick like Paul made him almost choke on the word.

  Paul turned to him with a wavering smile, one that concealed private thoughts that he wouldn’t reveal to a mere stranger. “Hell, no. I’ve got other reasons for dating her.” He unleashed a wicked grin. “On second thought, maybe I will bend her over my dinner table tonight and—”

  Damon punched him in the face.

  Paul waved his arms like a windmill and bumped against the countertop, then slipped to the floor, and flipped around like a fish until he pushed himself off the ground and got to his feet. He used his wrist to wipe his bloody nose. With flared nostrils, and eyes burrowing into Damon’s, Paul balled his hands into fists.

  “You come at me like that,” Damon said, “you better be prepared to get beat down.”

  “What the hell!” Kelsey’s voice cut through the music, drawing the attention of those in the vicinity. She pushed her way past Damon until she reached Paul. “Oh my God, what happened?”

  Now that his “date” had arrived, Paul’s face no longer vibrated with rage but with incredulous disbelief. “I told this guy you were my date tonight, and he hit me.”

  She spun around to face him. “Damon?” Her eyebrows lifted in shock. “What are you…” She shook off her confusion. “How dare you!”

  Damon tried to think of a way to explain the situation, but based on Kelsey’s sickened expression, she had no intention of listening to whatever he might say.

  “Get out of here. Do you hear me? Leave!”

  One look in those hurtful eyes made Damon feel like he’d let her down. Looking deeper, he saw…disappointment. But he didn’t understand why? That emotion depended on actually knowing someone well enough to register such a heated response. Regardless, Damon just stood there, hoping to understand why she glared at him.

  Then she stomped toward him with a blustery expression. She shoved him in the chest, turning him around into a bouncer a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier.

  The man grabbed Damon’s shoulder and said to Paul, “You want me to call the cops? Do you want to press charges?”

  Paul looked at Kelsey and, noticing that she shook her head and stared at the ground, he smiled, slid an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into an embrace. “No. That’s okay. Just get him out of here.”

  Damon hated how Kelsey curved into Paul’s chest, as though she needed protection. An
d seeing how well Paul played the victim intensified Damon’s rage. He wanted to hit the guy again.

  “Let’s go,” said the bouncer, spinning Damon around and clutching his shoulder.

  He left without a word and kept his gaze straight ahead, ignoring all of the dancers who stopped to look and clear a path for him. The bouncer paraded him into the hall and through the front door, past a dozen people standing in line to gain entrance. “Don’t step foot in here again,” said the bouncer before pushing him forward.

  Damon walked back to his car. Tonight, he’d wanted to find out whether Kelsey liked Paul, and he ended up looking like a poor loser and frightening the one woman whose respect he wanted to earn.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “What the hell!” Cassandra appeared beside Damon’s passenger door and glared at him through the window. “You hit him?”

  He unlocked the door and watched her get inside, wearing a deep-set frown. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She slammed the car door. “I don’t care what you want. I talked you up to Kelsey. But you can’t restrain yourself for a few minutes?”

  “He deserved what he got.” Damon drove out of the parking lot, and spent the next few minutes describing the events leading up to his altercation with Paul. “How did it go with Kelsey?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Not after what you did.”

  He felt his hopes rising. “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head. “I got the impression that she’s…intrigued by you. Correction: she was intrigued by you.”

  “She deserves to know the truth about Paul. Then she’ll see why I hit him.”

  “But you aren’t going to tell her. If you do, she’s going to resent you.”

  “But she doesn’t deserve to be hurt like that.”

  “She’ll feel stupid for choosing to date such an asshole. But she’ll feel worse if you point it out to her. It’ll humiliate her. And any feelings she might have for you will disappear.”

  Damon trusted her. “So what should I do?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  That idea unnerved him. “For how long? A couple days?”

  “However long it takes.”

  “Like a week?”

  “Maybe two. Or three. It depends on how long it takes.”

  “How long what takes?”

  “For her to realize that this guy is bad news.”

  Images of Paul making the moves on Kelsey made him grasp the steering wheel so tight that his hands turned white from the tension. “What if she, you know…”

  “Has sex with him?”

  Now his hands trembled with rage. “I can’t let that happen.”

  “If you like her, you can and you will.”

  He groaned with seething anger. “I bet you’re one hell of a mean teacher.”

  “Believe me. She needs to sort this out herself. Besides, I don’t think she’s convinced Paul is the one for her.”

  That gave him a thread of hope to hang onto. But he didn’t know how long he could hang onto it.

  * * *

  After Paul returned from the men’s bathroom, holding a wad of wet white paper towels to his front teeth, he walked alongside Kelsey as they headed out of the club. From the way he winced, she could tell he endured plenty of pain, but she had no idea what compelled Damon to take a swing at such a nice guy. And to think that she’d actually second-guessed his reputation. What did Alex see in him that qualified as best friend status? Better yet, what had she seen in Damon as a potential romantic interest? Thank God, she hadn’t given it serious consideration. She didn’t need that type of drama in her life.

  Kelsey had inquired about Paul’s injury and suggested that she take a look, but he shook his head, saying nothing in return. They reached her driver’s side door. “You’re not going to tell me what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” His voice came out muffled from the rag. He looked shaken and puzzled. “He bumped into me and apologized. Then we talked for a minute or two and out of nowhere, he clocked me.” Paul removed the gob of paper towels. Both of his front teeth were gone. Blood streamed from his upper lip and spilled onto the ground as though surging through a faucet.

  Startled, Kelsey jumped back. She stared wide-eyed at Paul and placed a hand over her mouth in horror. “Oh, Paul.”

  He stepped on the blood, as though trying to conceal the memory that he’d shed blood. To staunch the flow, he returned the rag to his mouth. “Do you know him? Is that why he hit me? Were you two a couple?”

  She lowered her hand across her heart. “No. But I know him. He’s my brother’s best friend. I’ve only met him twice before.”

  “Then why did he hit me?” He gave her a skeptical look. “He must have a thing for you. There’s no other explanation. It’s jealousy.”

  She couldn’t meet his eyes because Paul probably spoke the truth. Without that connection, Damon wouldn’t have decked Paul. “I think you’re right. I’m really sorry.”

  “Me too.” He cringed in pain. “I better go home and ice this. Hopefully my dentist will see me tomorrow to take a look.”

  She nodded.

  “Look,” he said, dipping his head. “I don’t think we should see each other for a while. I’m still interested, but I think we should cool off for a bit.” He met her eyes. “Until you get things sorted out with that guy, and I get this teeth-thing fixed up.”

  She nodded.

  He pivoted to go.

  “Paul?” When he spun back toward her, she said, “I really am sorry.” Then he turned away again, and Kelsey watched him track blood onto the concrete with each receding footstep. Guilt swamped her again, and her eyes misted with tears.

  Two hours later, Kelsey was unable to sleep and unwilling to call Marisa to tell her what happened. If she did, she feared Alex would catch wind of it, which might jeopardize his friendship with Damon. Kelsey turned on her iPad in hopes of getting some answers. She Googled “Damon Durant” and immediately found his author website.

  She hadn’t expected such a well-designed site. Across the top of the page, a banner read: New York Times Bestselling Author Damon Durant. Beside it were a handful of social media badges that allowed Damon to communicate with his readers. Underneath those options was a menu bar with plenty of options for visitors to choose from: a books page, a blog page, a biography, a latest news page, and a contact page. She clicked on his biography page. A banner at the top of the page read: A Child without a Name. Interest peaked, she started reading:

  “Damon Durant never met his birth parents, and he never had a traditional home. He bounced from foster home to foster home throughout his formative years. Moving so much made it difficult to make friends. Whenever he entered a new school, he encountered the same treatment – a victim of ridicule, practical jokes, and bullying.

  “But these injustices multiplied tenfold upon arriving at each of his foster homes. Most often, both foster parents battled alcohol or drug dependency, resulting in domestic abuse. At one point in their lives, each of these foster parents had been arrested for one or more of the following crimes: arson, gambling, burglary, assault and battery, larceny, forgery and counterfeiting, auto theft, manslaughter, and murder. Instead of allowing these negative influences to impinge his outlook, Damon rejected the criminal path that many victims traveled. Instead, he sought companionship and refuge from the only place that offered it: his female classmates.

  “Unfortunately, his close friendships with the opposite sex often found him in conflict with countless boyfriends, but far from seeking a romantic attachment, Damon sought the two characteristics that he’d never before earned from another human being: trust and loyalty. During his time at Southern Illinois University, he constructed uplifting stories that flaunted the strength and perseverance of the human spirit.

  Damon soon discovered the creative journey that awaited him as he formed only one goal: to become the best-selling male romance writer in the world. With a new focus, Damon
dedicated his life to his craft, forsaking romantic relationships along the way.

  “After obtaining his Bachelor’s degree, he worked construction jobs during the day and wrote each night. Over the next ten years, he produced six romance novels that sold modestly, but failed to garner the critical and widespread popularity that he’d hoped would follow.

  “Never one to trust his destiny to others, Damon re-purchased the rights to his six novels from his publisher and self-published these in hopes that they might reach the audience they deserved. Damon is currently at work on his seventh novel, The Wicked and the Damned, the final novel in the ‘Wicked’ series.”

  Kelsey felt drained from reading such a short but torturous biography. She couldn’t imagine the horrors that Damon had endured: all of the different broken homes with abusive parents, the inability to make friends, all of the misconceptions and disappointments of growing up without receiving the love of parents or friends. She couldn’t imagine such a desolate, despondent childhood.

  She found a link on the menu bar labeled “Max.” She clicked on the link and found gallery of Halloween pictures. (It seemed she hadn’t guessed incorrectly about Damon’s inclination to dress up Max each year.) In one picture, with a red cape splayed across his back, Max wore a yellow chain around his neck with the Superman symbol attached to it. That perked up Kelsey’s mood. Another showed him wearing a business suit and tie. One year, Damon dressed him as a hooligan from the ‘50s; he had slicked-back hair and wore the requisite black leather jacket. During the next October, Damon decked him out in Satan garb, complete with devil horns and a red-tinted tail. Kelsey chuckled at the other pictures she viewed: Max dressed as a convict, a firefighter, a Cubs player, Yoda from Star Wars, a magician, and the Pope.

  She loved Damon’s sense of humor; he made her laugh when he wasn’t even in the room. That took talent, which redirected her attention to his writing. She visited an online bookstore and downloaded the first novel in his “Wicked” series, The Wicked Never Lie. She read the first line – “‘The Duke of Sotherby’ had given away his love countless times, but he’d never received it back in equal measure” – and found it so captivating that she spent the entire evening “turning” the pages.