Ricochet Read online

  RICOCHET

  by

  Lore Ree

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and events are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright Lore Ree © 2014

  The right of Lore Ree to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, nor stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author.

  Cover Design by Wonderland Graphic Design © 2014

  Cover images © CURAphotography - Fotolia.com

  © Antonioguillem - Fotolia.com

  © rabbit75_fot - Fotolia.com

  Interior Formatting by Written Elegance 2014

  Interior Image denchik © 123rf.com

  ISBN-13: 978-1500403843

  ISBN-10: 1500403849

  -ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS-

  I’ve always said it takes a village to raise a book, and RICOCHET most definitely has a village. Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep this short.

  Kimberly Ann T., Jessica J., Amber Dale, Sheri, and Bridgette you were the first to read countless early versions of this story. The first to tell me it was good enough.

  R.E Hargrave and JA Mash, your monthly challenges inspired me to write beyond my comfort zone and birthed this story. Thank you for being the first to tell me, “Never say Never,” when I thought publishing was out of the realm of possibility for little ol’ me.

  To my pre-reading team, Alanna and Sheri, again, for your advice and support. When I wasn’t sure—you gave me courage.

  Lauren and Shay at Write Divas, your mad editing skills pushed me forward.

  Daphne Watson, of My Passion’s Pen. Thank you, for not only editing beyond my wildest expectations, but for unknowingly taking on the role of a writing friend and mentor. Your goal, I think, is that I’ll trust my voice and my vision. One day, I hope to listen to you.

  Sarah Shuttle from Wonderland Graphic Design. You’re one of my best friends, my sounding board, and my cover artist just to name a few.

  Rockstar bloggers like Nicole (Indiesage Promotions) for hosting the cover reveal for RICOCHET and Debra (The Book Enthusiasts) for putting together my release event.

  Jo Matthews (Written Elegance) for formatting. You came through in the clutch, girl! I owe you many!

  Tatiana and Dewey—you know why.

  My readers; old and new. You make the good, the bad, the crazy of all of this worth it. We do it for us, but we do it for you, too.

  And last but most certainly not least: My family. At the end of the day, I would never have taken this leap if not for your unwavering love and support.

  Dedicated to Synthia—my sister, my very first reader.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  -ONE—

  Gold. Silver. Platinum.

  My eyes glazed. As I stood in the middle of Lena’s Jewelry Store trying to make sense of the objects in the glass case. There was no denying the truth: I was shit when it came to women’s jewelry. My lack of knowledge wasn’t my biggest problem, though. The commentary going on in the background was.

  “You know I think this is a horrible idea, right?” came the voice of my best friend.

  I swallowed my sigh and stared at the display. This wasn’t the first time Warren had made that comment, and it wouldn’t be the last. As my boy, I expected him to be more supportive or at least pretend to be. So far, he’d been nothing but an unsupportive asshole and was starting to get on my last nerve.

  “No, seriously,” he said in a dry tone. “I think this might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

  Princess cut. Cushion. Marquise.

  “Yet, here we are.” He shifted next to me and tapped the glass display counter. “Do you even know what kind of ring the princess wants?”

  That’s it. I balled my fists and took a few calming breaths. I was already on edge. I didn’t need Warren’s shit talking adding to my stress. With my heart in my throat, I thought about the step I was about to take.

  Was this a good idea?

  I needed Warren’s support—deserved it. I’d always supported his ass, even when I didn’t agree with him. Gritting my teeth, I silently prayed for him to shut the fuck up before I lost my shit.

  “Miles, man, look. You can’t blame me for not liking her. You can’t be mad at me for not liking her. And you shouldn’t expect me, or anyone else, to be shitting rainbows about this,” he said and then raised a finger. “Which I think is a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, so you’ve said. A thousand fucking times by the way.”

  “And I’ll keep saying it for as long as it takes.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

  Too bad I was inches taller than him, and he couldn’t scare a cat. Warren wasn’t intimidating, just annoying.

  “All right, answer me this: why?”

  “Because I love—”

  Warren raised a hand. “Stop right the fuck there and be real with me for a minute. Why are you proposing? It’s not like you’re that happy. Everyone can see that.”

  I began to protest but then thought about how things had been lately. Baseless arguments. Complaints about how I couldn’t do anything right. Arianna and I had been together for a few years, though. Marriage was the natural progression. Even though I wasn’t as happy as I used to be, I wasn’t miserable. “I’m happy enough,” I said with a shrug.

  Warren’s jaw dropped. “Enough?”

  I rolled my eyes; he was always so damn dramatic.

  “Enough? You want me to be supportive when you’re only happy enough? Come on, man.”

  I regretted bringing him along. I could handle the shit talk from other people, but from someone who was like a brother to me? It hurt just as much, if not more, than it pissed me off.

  “You don’t have to be OK with this.” That’s not what I asked for. “But you need to fall back a little on all that hate. How are you going to be my best man when you’re acting like a shitty best friend right now?”

  “Best man? Please.” He stepped around me and focused on the watch display, ignoring my insults. “I love how you’re assuming she’ll say yes.”

  “Whoa!” I almost lost my footing when I tried to catch his arm. That thought hadn’t crossed my mind. What was he trying to say? “You think she’d say no? Is that why you’re being an ass? Or are you doing your mind fuck thing?” He was good for that shit—using the psychologist bullshit he learned in school on unsuspecting friends and family.

  “I’m not saying she would say no, but let’s see … The ring might be too small or the wrong color. Fuck, it might be raining the day you ask her.” Warren shrugged and laughing, turning his attention to the watch display. “She always finds something to complain about.”

  I glared at his back for a second, unsure of what else to say, then stared at the rings. They were different now, blurring together into one big, heavy stone.

  Despite Warren’s dislike of Arianna, I never thought he would be so against me putting a damn ring on her finger. His attitude wouldn’t have
mattered as much if he’d been one of those dudes who hated everything about marriage and commitment, but to those who really knew Warren, he wasn’t like that.

  “Miles, really.”

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize Warren had made his way to my side. I jumped when he spoke.

  “Tell me why you’re trying to wife her up now? What’s the rush? It’s not like you knocked her up.”

  “How the fuck do you know that?”

  His eyes went wide. “Did you?”

  “Well no, but—”

  His hand went to his chest. “Shit, man, don’t scare me like that. Fuck!”

  What a fucking chick. “And why would that be such a bad thing, drama queen?”

  Warren dropped his hand and squinted at me as if I were an idiot. “Breeding with a she-devil is never a good thing.”

  I’d been friends with Warren my whole life, but I met Arianna six years ago at Bentley University. During our freshman year, the three of us—Warren, Ari, and I—shared the same friends, ran with the same crowd. We just fit. At the time, Arianna helped me find my way, find myself. We were all close in the beginning. Even Warren called her his sister. However, over the past year there’d been a shift in their friendship. Warren said it was because she changed, but we all had. I couldn’t figure out what their beef was. It was their business, so I didn’t pay too much attention to how deep their rift ran. That breeding comment made me realize how much he hated her.

  “Hey, boys!”

  We both spun around; my heart race speeding up in surprise. I smiled at my older sister: the only jeweler—the only person—I would trust with something this important.

  “Lena!” I leaned over the counter, prepared to give her a kiss, but stopped when I saw her puffy, red eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh nothing.” She smiled but wouldn’t meet my eye.

  My sister never had been much of a crier. When she did cry, it was usually in anger. Lately, her tears were because of the dickhead she’d married a couple years ago. That thought pissed me off.

  “Did he—”

  “Fix your face.” She shook a finger at me, leveling me with her signature halting glare.

  We knew better than to push, especially with that look on her face. Clearing our throats, Warren and I “fixed our faces” like we were told and took a step back from the counter.

  “Hi, Lena.” Warren smiled. “You look great!”

  Overkill. I tapped him with my elbow and shook my head, at the same time Lena rolled her eyes at us.

  “So, what brings you boys by?”

  It took Lena over two hours and thousands of dollars to help me pick out the so-called perfect ring before sending us on our way. I thought picking Ari’s ring would make me happy, but the reality left me unsettled.

  “You OK?” Warren asked.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but when I saw Warren’s face, the words caught in my throat. It was as if he knew I felt as though someone was sitting on my chest. I was damn-near certain I was about to have a heart attack.

  “I’m not sure.” I stopped walking and rubbed my chest. “What if the ring is too small?”

  “You’re serious? You know I was fucking with you, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No.” He put a hand on my shoulder to give me some brotherly comfort and move me out of the way of the bicyclist racing by. “Tell me you know I was fucking around back there. Then, when you’re done, tell me you’re sure about this. If this is what you want, I’ll be cool with it. Even if it kills me.”

  “Thanks.” I didn’t need his approval, but it felt good to have.

  “I mean, it might literally kill me to watch but—”

  I stomped away.

  “I’m kidding!” His laugh and rushed footsteps echoed behind me. “Come on, you have to relax. You know how I always fuck around.”

  He was right. That’s the way he’d always been. Why was I taking this shit so seriously?

  “I knew you were fucking around back there.” I kept my tone light to show any residual tension was gone.

  “Good.” He nodded. “Now, how about we talk about something I know will get you hyped.”

  Oh, God. In Warren’s world that could be anything.

  I side eyed him and tried to hide any wariness in my voice when I asked, “What are you talking about?”

  He clapped his hands once and then rubbed them together. “Twenty-five! You ready?”

  His smile was so damn wide I had to return it. Hell yes! I was more than ready. As a standing tradition, Warren, a group of our friends, and I took trips whenever key birthdays came around. This started way back when we were six, I think, and our parents took us to Disney World together.

  When we turned eighteen, we went with our friends to Quebec, one of the few places we could buy alcohol. Warren had planned that trip.

  When we turned twenty-one, it was my year, and I chose South Beach.

  This year we were turning twenty-five, and the planning fell back to Warren. Though whoever was planning had always kept the trip secret from the others until the last minute, I had a pretty good idea where we were going. Mostly thanks to a conversation I’d overheard about gambling, a strip, and needing to get away from the East Coast.

  Either way, I didn’t care where we went. I’d been working my ass off since I graduated with a degree in accountancy two years ago. I saw the inside of my office at the Pru more than the inside of my house, more than I saw my friends and family.

  I deserved a weekend away.

  I deserved some time away from Boston.

  And I sure as fuck deserved some time with my boys before my life changed forever.

  -TWO-

  “What the fuck is this?”

  I was barely through the door when Arianna jumped up from the couch and charged toward me. The fire in her green eyes was something I’d only seen a few times since we first started dating; recently, I saw it almost every day. It didn’t faze me until she shoved her phone in my face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I said, ‘what is this?’!”

  I squinted at the small screen and then placed my hand on the inside of her wrist to push the phone away. The picture was simple enough. Warren, a couple of the guys, me, and a group of random people we’d met on the trip. I didn’t see what the big deal was.

  “It’s a picture of us in Vegas?” I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

  “Yes, I can see that. Who the fuck are those bitches in the picture?” Her voice took on a slightly hysterical, sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

  The group picture consisted of about five dudes and three chicks. I didn’t see anything wrong with it and shrugged.

  “I don’t know them,” I said, not in a whisper but speaking softly. “We met them at PURE, I think.” Or was it the club inside the Bellagio? Irrelevant. “We were partying and drinking, but nothing happened. I already told you about that night.”

  “Then explain this.” Arianna pushed the phone in my face again.

  “Get your phone away from me.”

  “Fuck you! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this. I had to see this shit online. Really?”

  “What shit exactly?” I was genuinely curious. While memories of the trip were a little blurry at times, I could say with certainty I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t—and would never—cheat, on my girl. I can’t say the same for the guys. Thinking about some of the shit they did being made me cringe. What happened in Vegas would not stay there, not with photographic proof popping up.

  She smirked. “Are you afraid of me finding something?”

  “No.” I dragged the word out. What the hell is her problem? “You’re the one who said you had to see this shit online. I’m just asking what you were talking about.”

  “Vegas. Why did I have to find out about Vegas from the Internet? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t tell you I went to Vegas?”
It was a rhetorical question seeing how when Warren handed me my boarding pass, Ari was the first person I texted.

  “You didn’t tell me what you did in Vegas. That you were hanging around girls and Warren and Lonnie aren’t together.”

  She can’t be serious. “You’re mad because … Are you for real? Who gives a fuck about Warren and Lonnie right now?”

  The back and forth about this topic and the way Arianna had been acting was exhausting. I understood how she felt when it came to Warren’s on-again, off-again relationship with his girlfriend, Lonnie. When things were good between him and Lonnie they acted as though they were seconds away from running off to get married. Warren forgot himself when things were bad. It was never pretty, and in a way, kind of sad. But to let him tell it: he’s a man—the man. And whenever he was single he was entitled to do whatever he wanted. That meant sticking his dick in anything that moved. But that had nothing to do with me or my current and pointless argument with Arianna.

  “When Warren does—”

  “No. Fuck that!” Realizing I was in her face, I took a step back and shook my head. “We’re not talking about him. We’re talking about you. Actually, no. I’m done talking.” I turned to walk away, done.

  “You know what I think, Miles?” She yanked my sleeve and pulled me back.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do not touch me.”

  “I don’t think you’re ready for this”—she waved her finger between us—“for us. You don’t want a serious relationship. Maybe we should cool it for a while.”

  For a second I thought she was bluffing, trying to get a reaction out of me. When her resolve didn’t falter, when she didn’t start backtracking, I almost lost it.

  “Are you serious? Over some bullshit? Over some pictures I’m doing nothing in? We need to cool it?”

  I towered over her but didn’t let my temper get the best of me. I would never lay a hand on her, but I sure as hell would say some shit I would regret if she pushed me. And boy was she good at pushing my buttons when she wanted. Right now was no exception.