Robin Wasserman - Pride

“What about you? Are you and your father…? Or do you want to come home with me?”

“No,” he said hastily. “I’ve got family stuff of my own.” If “family stuff” meant beer and cold pizza alone, wondering if his father would remember it was Christmas and actually come home that night.

For a second, Kane was tempted. He hadn’t had a real Christmas, a family Christmas, since his mother died. After that, it had been just him and his brother, getting drunk, laughing at the loser carolers, and then, when Aaron went off to college, it was just him. Beth’s Christmas, on the other hand, was probably straight out of a Hallmark commercial: stockings hanging from the mantel, wrapping paper all over the floor, disgusting displays of Christmas spirit. And for a second, Kane was tempted. Why not let Beth play Tiny Tim to his Scrooge, teach him the true meaning of blah, blah, blah.

The fact that he was getting bored just imagining it? Probably not a great sign.

Maybe he was too old for Christmas. Maybe he was just over it.

“Are you sure?” Beth asked dubiously. “Because we’d love to have you. I’d love for you to be there.”

Kane sighed. Whenever he was around her, he felt like letting down his guard. It was dangerous-and yet strangely appealing. Like a drug he couldn’t stay away from.

“I’m sure,” he told her, cupping her chin in his hands and tipping her face up toward his for a farewell kiss. Kane believed in drugs-but he didn’t believe in losing control. Which meant it was time to go.

She had known the bar would be open on Christmas. It was just that kind of place. Dingy, graying, scattered with familiar faces, the faithful pilgrims who came in almost every night, looking for-something. They never found it. But they kept coming back.

It was a bar for people who had nowhere else to go-especially on Christmas.

And it was Powell’ favorite.

After the pleasant chat with her mother, Kaia had needed to get out of the house. Have some fun. And she’d known just where to go. She hadn’t heard from Powell since he’d returned from the ski trip, but she was sure it didn’t mean anything. So he’d had a little fun, and a little ski bunny, while he was away. It’s a free country. It’s not like she hadn’t had a little fun of her own. That night with Reed might have been an aberration, a freakish fluke that could never be repeated-but it had definitely been hot.

Playtime was over. And Kaia had no doubt that Powell was just waiting for the perfect moment to summon her. The bunny was-must be-history. After all, you don’t trade in caviar for tuna fish, and Kaia was caviar all the way.

Still, Kaia decided, it couldn’t hurt to show her face, remind him of what he should have been missing. Besides, it was Christmas, and he deserved a holiday treat. Whoever said “’tis better to give than to receive” had obviously never met Kaia Sellers.

She’d dressed herself in red and green from head to toe: red backless top, green peasant skirt, red kitten heels, and, to top it off, a red velvet ribbon tied around her waist. Aren’t you going to unwrap your present? She rehearsed the line in her head, loving the way the words sounded, and could already see the look on his face. He’d feign annoyance, of course-she was supposed to wait for him to beckon her, that’s what they’d agreed on. Those were the rules. No speaking in public, no dating other guys, no obligations, and, most of all, no surprises.

According to the rules, she should be sitting home, biding her time, waiting for him to call.

But Kaia had never been too good with rules.

She almost walked by the bar-from the outside, it was nothing but a narrow gray cement block, with a small, dark, unmarked door. She swung it open and stood in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

He wasn’t at his normal stool at the end of the bar, nose buried in a book. Instead, he was tucked into one of the few booths lining the wall. He was sipping a glass of red wine. And he wasn’t alone.

The ski bunny, Kaia thought with disgust. It had to be. She was blond, lithe, limber, her face radiating a gentle, trusting imbecility-and she was perched on Powell’s lap, nuzzling his neck.

Other girls might have confronted him, or started to cry-or just slunk away into the night. But Kaia was better than that. So she just stood there and watched. Waited.

Until, finally, he noticed her. While the ski bunny gave his ear a tongue massage, Powell’s eyes met Kaia’s, his expression unreadable. Was that guilt in his eyes? Anger? Dismissal? Fear?

Kaia didn’t know-and didn’t really care. What Jack Powell felt, what he wanted, was beside the point. She’d let him think he was in charge of their little “relationship”-a nice power trip for him that didn’t cost her anything. But that was over now.

Powell liked rules so much? Maybe it was time to give him a new set-show him whose game they were really playing. Kaia gave Powell-who hadn’t taken his eyes off her, despite the squirming blonde in his lap-a slow, cruel smile. Then turned around and left the bar.

Calm down, she instructed herself, taking a few deep breaths and forcing the anger away. She couldn’t get emotionally involved, not if she was going to win this little battle of the wills.

And she was going to win.

She always did.

The phone rang twice before he picked it up-just enough time for Harper to change her mind, almost hang up, then reconsider once again. She’d been over and over this in her head and had concluded that, humiliating as it was, she just had no other choice.

If she was careful, and lucky, her parents would never find out that she’d quit her job-but she still owed them $300, and there were no job openings anywhere in town. So unless she wanted to sell off all her possessions-or her organs-she was stuck. Trapped. With only one very unappealing escape route.

“Grace-to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Kane. Supercilious, haughty, but loaded. All she needed to do was ask him-

But Harper found she couldn’t quite get the words out. Maybe if she did it fast, like a Band-Aid. “I need… a… favor.”

Or painfully slow could work, too.

“I’m listening.”

Harper silently cursed her parents for sticking her in this position. If they’d only given her the money for the ski trip in the first place, no strings attached, she wouldn’t be stuck groveling like this.

Things could be worse, she reminded herself-she could be abasing herself in front of Kaia. Or worse, Beth. Kane was an ass, and he would probably hold this over her head until graduation, but on the plus side, she didn’t really care what he thought of her. After all, it was Kane. She’d helped him steal his best friend’s girlfriend-so who was he to judge?

“I need to borrow some money,” she said flatly. “Three hundred dollars.”

“Whoa,” he whistled. “Dare I ask why?”

“No.”

“And when will I be getting this loan repaid, with interest?”

Good question.

“I don’t know.”

Bad answer.

“Now Grace, pray tell, why would I possibly do this for you?”

“Because you’ve got no reason not to?” Harper suggested, knowing that, for Kane, it was usually as good a reason as any. And certainly more palatable than throwing herself on his mercy. “Because you might find it amusing to have me in your debt?”

“Ah, Grace, you know me so well,” he marveled, and Harper breathed a silent sigh of relief. “So when should I deliver this windfall?” Kane asked. “Tonight?”

“Only if you’re going to be at the basketball game,” Harper said, rolling her eyes. “I have to be there to ‘support my man.’” Vomit. Beth had always been Adam’s eager good luck charm and one-woman cheering section. So Harper was forcing herself to play along-but lame high school sporting events were so not her thing.