You Don't Know Me: A Stand-Alone New Adult Romance Read online

  Chapter Twenty

  Rue

  Still sleepy from a night of bad dreams, I rub my eyes and take a deep breath. Tap tap tap on the keyboard. The home page for Wells Fargo Bank springs onto the screen.

  I leap off the couch! Running around the room like there’s a spider on me, I stare at the laptop. I know the balance was $858.32, last time I looked, with a savings account of exactly $2,540.00. I was really proud of those twenty-five hundred and forty bucks. But now? I don’t know how I’ll feel if that’s all there is.

  “Okay, you can do this. Get your head out of the sand and take a look.” Determined, I march to the computer and pick it up.

  I sit down.

  I put it on my lap.

  Username: dancingqueen11.

  Password: Iwillmakeit33.

  The screen changes.

  “$50,000,858.32,” stares silently back at me.

  A scream rips out my lungs. Then another scream. I poke at the screen, tapping out the zeros to wrap my brain around it. Don’t I have to pay taxes? I must! Into Google I type, What is the inheritance tax in California? The answer comes up at once, and I scream again. There are only seven states that collect inheritance tax: Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky, Maryland, Nebraska, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.

  I burst into tears, stand up, and throw the computer across the room. It breaks, but I don’t’ care. It was falling apart anyway. Dancing around like a crazy person, I whoop and holler and make strange squeaking noises I’ve never made before.

  My phone rings and I catapult myself across the room to answer it. I’m so glad it’s ringing! I have to share this! I have to tell someone what’s going on! Not recognizing the number, I swipe to answer, “Hello?!”

  “Rue Calliwell?” a female voice asks.

  “Yes?”

  “Your mother was a filthy whore!” The phone goes dead.

  Staring at it, I stand here, stunned. It’s only 6:18 a.m. It’s way too early to hear your mother’s a whore. Shaken, I dial Jenna’s number. As I wait for her to pick up, I get angrier and angrier. “Come on, Jenna. Pick up!” I dial it again and again until finally she answers in a very groggy voice.

  “Hey. What’s up?” I can practically hear her scratching her nose.

  “Jenna, get up. Something just happened and… Oh fuck it! You know what? I’ll tell you about it when you get here. Come over. Now. Because guess what? We’re going shopping.”

  She pauses, still half asleep at the time. “The stores aren’t open yet.”

  “They are, in New York.”

  Silence. Then she gasps, waking up more. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “What do you think I’m saying?”

  “That we are flying to New York to go shopping??!!”

  “Then yes.”

  “I’ll be right there!” She hangs up.

  I’m about to throw the phone on the bed so I can pack, when I get a better idea. I go through the recent-call list and assign the name Evil Bitch to the unknown caller who just tried to ruin my morning. “There. Try and surprise me now.” I toss the phone and run to pull out my suitcase, yanking it out of the pile of crap in my closet. Time to dust this baby off.

  One thing I’ve always fought against is caring how others perceive me. It’s been too much a part of my life, wanting to blend in and not be judged. The desire to ‘fit in’ is in our evolutionary DNA, one biology teacher told us in high school. It’s still engrained in us from the days when, if we were thrown out of the cave, we’d be dinner. But I hate it.

  I don’t want to fit in.

  And I really, really don’t want to hear it from ANYONE what they think of my mom, this whole situation, or me.

  Alec’s face pops into my mind and I stop in my tracks on the way to the dresser, the soft carpet squishing between my toes. Talking aloud to myself, I mutter, “The only problem with going to New York is that he’s here. If I stayed here, maybe I’d go out with the brothers again and run into him. You know, by purposeful accident. Maybe I could tell him I don’t care what Sean thinks. That if I’m going to get my heart broken, I want it to be by him.” A shudder passes over me and I shake out my head. “You’re being crazy, Rue. You can’t just lay yourself at a guy’s feet like that. Especially when that probably happens to him all the time.”

  Sighing, I pull open my top dresser drawer, and grab my favorite underwear, socks and bras, tossing them into the suitcase from where I stand. The bank balance jumps in front of my eyes again and a grin spreads on my lips. I just found out I’m a fucking millionaire. For real. Running into the bathroom, I say, loudly, “I just want to be happy.” Excitement racing the blood faster in my veins, I grab my must-haves and run out to throw them in the suitcase, too.

  I want to stop listening when people say these words: You shouldn’t… You can’t… You’re too… What makes them think they have the right to impose their rules or inhibitions on me?

  We have one life.

  We get to do what we want.

  As long as we don’t purposefully hurt people… we should follow our hearts and dreams and search for joy wherever we can find it.

  I want to laugh hard. I want to cry hard. I want to dance!

  New York… here I come.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rue

  Searching the outside bleakness of John F. Kennedy International Airport, Jenna asks, “How do we get a taxi?”

  “I think we go that way.” I point to the right where there’s a long line of people and a shorter line of cabs. Some have no markings, just black sedans waiting for someone who wants to ride in them, and not many do. I ask a woman who’s puffing on a cigarette she’s waited five and a half torturous hours to inhale, “Excuse me, what are those? Are those limos?”

  At first she looks at me like she thinks I was going to tell her to put it out. Relief sags her eyelids, and she jerks her chin toward the cars as smoke wafts around the crown of her head. “Those are what they call Car Service, for Brooklyn. Yellow cabs wanna go all the way to Manhattan ‘cause it’s a bigger ticket.”

  “Ah. Thank you.” I turn back to Jenna who’s rubbing her arms like I am to generate warmth. We’re both wearing baggy boyfriend jeans and long, loose fitting tank tops over tight ones, wishing we’d brought jackets. Her flip-flop covered feet are slapping the pavement like a horse getting ready to buck, and our overnight bags–hers in pink leopard print and mine in dark purple–are waiting for a place to go. I wish I could help them.

  “I was thinking we just grab one of those, but looks like we have to do the line. But we’re excited, right?”

  “Jeez, it’s cold here!” Jenna says, frowning hard, and ignoring my attempt at cheer.

  “Yeah, but I’m so glad we’re finally off that plane.”

  “I told you to get First Class tickets.”

  “I know! I should have listened. I’m not used to being able to do that.” She reaches over and rubs my back, letting me know she gets it. “If you’re so wise, why didn’t you tell me to bring a jacket?”

  “Ha. Ha,” she mutters, dryly.

  “Okay. So I didn’t plan ahead, but this is gonna be great! You know what? I’ve got an idea. Come on. Follow me.” Without question, she grabs both rolling bags as I pull out my wallet and race to the front of the line, straight up to the dispatcher. “Hi, we need a cab. Can you get us one with a heater?” Hiding it from sight of the line behind us, I hand him a hundred dollar bill, biting my lip at my extravagance. He looks at me, then at the bill. “Please!” I beg, and hand him another one, with a weird I’ve-never-done-this-before smile. As one who’s been around, he stares at me from under thick eyebrows, and cuts his eyes over to Jenna without moving his head. She smiles big, a move that makes the corners of his mouth turn up. It appears she has more of an effect on him than I do, so I give her a signal, a look to keep it up. We’re going to freeze out here if this guy doesn’t warm up to Jenna’s charms. She bends one knee so that her hip juts seductively out. “H
i! We forgot jackets. But we’re not complete morons. We’re just not too bright.”

  He mutters on a laugh, “Alright,” and unexpectedly hands one of the hundreds back to me, tucking the other in his jacket’s inner pocket. “I’ll keep this one.” He turns to signal the cabbie at the front of the line that there’s an exception, to not take the next person in line, a woman around forty or so, wearing a warm coat, obviously glad she’s next. The cabbie nods and motions to the traveller she’s out of luck as I grab my suitcase from Jenna and we run up with them trailing victoriously behind us. The woman shoots us a bloodcurdling look, and hurls a few choice curse words we have to dive under to get in the cab. There’s a collective groan from the line, too.

  Sticking my whole body out the window, I throw a heartfelt apology to the lady and the crowd, “Sorry! We didn’t bring jackets.” Some guy takes my picture. “Shit,” I mutter, sinking back inside. The cab driver tosses our bags with a vengeance into the trunk, slamming it shut.

  “Did you see that?” Jenna asks, pointing out the back window. I look over to the angry people who are dressed warmer than we are.

  “What?”

  “Another guy taking our picture.”

  I turn around, annoyed. “Yeah, I saw him. Hey, look at this.” We both raise our eyebrows at the T.V. screen anchored in the backseat. As soon as we pull away from the curb, it turns on. Commercials of New York City with Tina Fey doing the voice-over, flash before us. It’s surreal being here, and this just added to that wondrous feeling. “It’s so strange that you can be on one side of the country, and then not even six hours later, you’re all the way on the other end.”

  We caught the Delta Airlines 9:30 a.m. flight and arrived ahead of schedule at 5:32 p.m. with the time difference. The sun’s going down here, but back home that’d be hours away.

  “Yeah. But look at this!” Jenna scoffs, “I thought Brooklyn was supposed to be cool?” She motions to the graffiti-covered buildings passing by our window so fast you think we were being chased by cops.

  “It’s probably just the area by the airport that looks like this. Airports are always far away from where people want to live. Too much noise. Remember Bobby, the guy who went on tour with Lady Gaga? He’s from Brooklyn. Williamsburg, I think…was that it? Yeah, I think that was what he called it. He said it’s a lot like Silverlake.”

  “Ooo! I’m getting excited, Ruefus!” Her hand is tapping on her leg even though there’s no music. Our cab driver is doing the same; his bearded chin bobs like there’s a beat in his body, too. I’d ask him to turn on the radio, but then what would happen to the song in their heads?

  “Me too! Very excited,” I whisper, watching the darkening sky loom over a gray blur of industrial buildings and structures that no one should be living in. My mind detours back to Alec yet again. The way his hair fell over his eyes. The way he looked at me like he wanted to tear me apart. The way I reacted to the urgency emanating from him. The way he smelled.

  Why am I tormenting myself? He ran away from me and told me what Sean said about him was true. And then there’s my new brother. Sean doesn’t want it to happen. And if what he warned me is true, then I shouldn’t want it, either.

  But I do want it. I want him.

  The ache in my chest feels like the seeds for obsession, and that would be a first for me. “I think I’ve got it bad, Jenna. It’s not possible to fall in love with someone in one night, is it?”

  Jenna sends a raised eyebrow my way. “The problem with meeting someone famous is you feel like you already know them.”

  Making a little noise, I stare out the window, not sure if she’s got a point. “It felt like more than that. I know it’s crazy, but I think he felt it, too. Never mind. I’m being crazy.”

  My phone rings, and I’m more than happy for the distraction, but pulling it out, I don’t recognize the number. Jenna and I exchange looks; distressed another slandering of my mother’s good name is on the way. “Ugh. I swear, if this is another...” I swipe to answer it. “Hello?”

  “It’s Jack.”

  “Oh! Jack! Hi!” Jenna exhales with me. “What’s up?”

  Authoritative and low, his voice sounds as clear and as scary as if he were sitting right here next to me. “You’re coming over for dinner tonight. Mom wants to meet you.”

  Jenna makes a face, wondering why I look like someone punched my stomach after a heavy meal. “You want me to meet your mom tonight?” I say, repeating the request for her benefit, and her jaw drops while I slap her legs to get the crazy out of me. “Hang on. I’m getting another call.” I hit mute, exclaiming wildly, “I don’t want to meet their mother! My mother slept with her husband!”

  “And then there’s the part where you’re on the East coast,” Jenna flatly adds.

  “Shit.” I hit the mute again. “Sorry. I’m back. Tonight? Really?”

  Sarcasm drips heavily from his unimpressed voice, wetting my ear in the process. “Yeah. Tonight. Don’t put me on hold again. And don’t tell me you have to work.”

  “Hang on.” I hit mute again. “Oh my God. I’m on the schedule at work tonight, too! I didn’t call them. I didn’t even think of calling them!! What am I gonna do?”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Right???!” I hit mute again, bringing back the call, feeling very strongly that I really didn’t think this through. “Jack? I’m on the schedule tonight.”

  That’s the truth.

  “I can’t come to dinner. Sorry.”

  Also true.

  Jenna reaches over, pinches my arm, and grins like the kid cutting school with Ferris Bueller. I bite back a yip at the pain.

  Jack implodes, his growl guttural and hair-raising. “You will be there, Sis. You will call that job and tell them you’re not coming back. And you will sit your sweet little ass at that table and meet Mom tonight. You got it? You owe her.”

  Retaliatory fire blazes through my veins instantly. Like I’m possessed, my voice lowers and my spine straightens as I lean forward, finding a power I didn’t know I had. “I owe her? I don’t even know her. I didn’t ask for any of this, Jack. Don’t talk to me like that. If and when I choose to meet your mother, it will be because I want to, not because you order me to do so. You. Don’t. Own. Me.”

  Click.

  With my heart pounding fiercely, I bring my phone to my chest and hold it there, steadying my heartbeat. A white-hot heat took over me just then, and I don’t recognize myself.

  “Did you just hang up on Jack Stone?” Jenna asks, incredulously. I don’t say anything, so she gets louder. “Did you just tell off Jack Fucking Stone?”

  I shrug, but my hand begins to shake. “He’s a jerk. If he thinks he can boss me around, he’s wrong.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you, Ruefus.”

  “Yeah you did,” I whisper.

  She laughs. “Okay, yeah. I did. But still, phew! Most people would throw themselves at his feet and you! You just impressed the hell out of me!”

  “Yeah, well…” I stare at the fireworks on the T.V. wondering what I’m going to do about this rivalry I have with the man who is apparently my family. Jack and I have gotten off on the wrong foot to say the least. I don’t want it to be like this, but he has a way of pushing all of my buttons until I’m spewing things I’d never say to anyone else. Why am I being so mean about his mother? Can’t I show her some sympathy and meet the poor woman? At the very least show her I’m not as evil as she must think I am? But Jack keeps pushing me over the edge. What does he think I am? Well, I know what he thinks I am.

  He thinks I’m trash.

  I have to prove him wrong.

  I cut my eyes back to my friend. “Can you imagine sitting down to dinner with the woman who’s husband cheated with your mother?”

  “And her husband is your dad!” Jenna digs in her bag for lip balm. “I can’t imagine any of this. I’m just along for the ride.”

  “Should I have said yes, Jenna?”

  She pops the
cap off the tube and applies it to her lips while talking. “Rue, how are you supposed to say yes when you’re not even in the same state?”

  Blankly, I stare at her. She stops, the balm frozen to her lip as she stares back at me. We burst out laughing and don’t stop until our sides are splitting with cramps.

  At the Brooklyn Bridge, our driver speeds through the toll, thanks to his prepaid pass. Jenna and I both get quiet as we stare out at history, the skyline of a shimmering New York City growing larger. She reaches across the seat and grabs my hand. Gives it a tight squeeze. “Thank you for bringing me here.” I glance over at her, surprised. Her face is turned away from me. She’s not the most emotional or vulnerable person on the planet, so her saying that means a lot. Emotion warming my stomach, I smile and give her hand a squeeze back.

  “Of course, Jenna-bean. You’re my best friend.” I look out my window at the water below us, and the boats in the distance. An adventure is waiting for us on the other side of this bridge. I cannot wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jack

  “FUCK! She hung up on me!” I look over at Sean, and he can’t believe it either. “Don’t look so amused. I’m going over there.” I tear through the large expanse of our home’s foyer, snapping up my keys from a bowl on the marble table that belonged to our great-grandmother. I hate this fucking table. I give it a kick. It doesn’t budge. Now I look like an idiot, and my foot aches. “FUCK!!!”

  Sean had to break into a jog to catch up to me. “You’re driving all the way over the hill again? Do you know if she’s even home?”

  “Where else would she be? She hardly ever goes out; remember what the private detective showed us?” Sunlight slices into view as I yank open the front door, making me squint and pull out my shades immediately.

  Sean crosses his arms across his blue James Perse t-shirt, and squints against the light, too. “She could be at Millennium.”