Reluctantly, she sinks into it, giving me the side-eye as though I’ve tricked her, and crosses her legs, her miniskirt riding up.
“Jase hit me,” she says with a shrug of one shoulder, studying the lining of the chair. “What else is there to say?”
I take my notebook and pen from my purse. “Was it just once, or was it a pattern?”
She shrugs again. “Just once.” Looking up, she catches my eye. “It was terrifying.”
I make a note of her answer. “Did he often lose his temper with you?”
“Oh yes, all the time.” She’s warming to the questions now, a smile flitting at the corner of her lips.
“And when he did, what would happen?”
“He’d yell, swear, sometimes throw things.” She licks her lips like she has a particularly scandalous tidbit to share and leans toward me. “Once, he punched a hole in a wall.”
I picture the massive, leanly muscled guy from the gym smashing a wall in a fit of rage and shiver. It’s a frightening image. But it also doesn’t gel with what I’ve seen of him. He’s cocky and mouthy, but though he’s certainly pouted plenty, he hasn’t laid a finger on me in any way that’s given me a legitimate reason for concern.
“That must have scared you,” I say, to keep her talking.
Her eyes widen, then she winces, and I feel a pang of sympathy. “You have no idea.”
I duck my head closer to hers, inviting her confidence. I get the impression she’s a born storyteller, and loves having an audience. “Why did you stay with him?”
“Well… I…” She flounders, and I push away the urge to help her. I can’t baby this woman if I want to get to the bottom of things. “I guess…” She gives an awkward laugh. “He’s so fucking hot, you know? And he’s not always a bad guy. Sometimes he was nice to me.”
He’s hot?That’s her first response?
This is Vegas. There are thousands of hot guys out there if that’s all that matters to her. Her answer doesn’t ring true, and I want to poke it and see how she unravels.
“What happened the day he hit you?”
“We were dancing at a club. Flashlight—you might have heard of it.” Her voice is strong and sure now; she’s back on familiar ground. How many times has she told this exact same story? The words sound rehearsed, like they’ve been repeated over and over. I suppose she would have told whichever news outlet she originally spoke to, and probably her friends and colleagues, too. Still, something about her seems too… polished. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was bragging by name-dropping the hottest new club in town, which is next to impossible to get into.
“I’ve heard of it,” I confirm.
Her face drops in disappointment, and I wonder if she was hoping I’d be more impressed by her glamorous lifestyle. “It’s like,theplace to be,” she continues. “I was so freaking excited when he asked me to go with him. We had a few shots, and he went to the bathroom.” At this point, it occurs to me that Jase told me he doesn’t drink during fight camps, and I’m inclined to believe him. I wonder if it’s a slip of the tongue, or if Erin just lied. I don’t interrupt though, I want to see where she’s going with this.
“I was dancing by myself and this other guy started hitting on me. I didn’t lead him on,” she says, tossing her perfect blonde hair in such a way that makes me think that’s exactly what she did. “But when Jase got back, he went totally nuts. Like, more angry than I’d ever seen him before.” Her lips twist in a smirk. “I guess he didn’t like seeing someone else’s hands on me. So he shoved the guy away, and it was such an alpha move”—at this point, she sighs dreamily—“sohot, and I just wanted to jump him, so we took a taxi home but he was in a crappy mood and when we were alone, he hit me and told me never to flirt with anyone else again. Then he got drunk, and he’s a mean drunk, so I packed a bag and snuck out.”
My brows shoot up. “You were living with him?”
This was a fact no one had mentioned.
“Ah, no.” She colors, and drops her eyes. “I just left a few things there. Changes of clothes, you know.”
“Stuff that you were worried enough about to go and collect when your boyfriend with an anger problem had just hit you?”
As someone who’s been in that situation, I can attest that my personal belongings were the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to get somewhere safe and be held by someone who cared about me. I know that everyone reacts to situations differently, but this whole conversation seemsoffto me.
Erin is flustered now. The flush has spread over her entire face and her movements have become jerky. She shakes her head. “He was starting to calm down. I wasn’t in any danger—”
“But you said he was a mean drunk,” I point out.
Like someone slipping on a mask, Erin’s expression changes. Her lips curl, her eyes become icy, and her hands still. The effect is like being doused with cold water. Forget innocent victim, the person in front of me is a straight-up mean girl.
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’ve had enough of this conversation. I’m going to tell anyone who’ll listen what he did, and I’ll probably have him arrested. Nothing you do or say will stop me.” She stands, her back ramrod straight. “If Jase wants to talk to me, he can come here himself rather than sending his little messenger.” Her sneer could have been taken directly from my high school nightmares. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. You can see yourself to the door.”
My temper flares and I get to my feet. “What’s your play? You want him to come here so someone can take his picture and slam him all through the tabloids again? Because it won’t work. I’m going to keep him far, far away from you.” If it’s the last goddamn thing I do.
