Behind the Curtain - Page 57

“Stop it. Get a hold of yourself, Ash,” Jimmy demanded. But Asher was furiously focused on Eric’s perfect face. He craved the feeling of sinking his knuckles into it. The prospect of violence would help him focus on something else tonight. But distraction aside, it would feel fucking fantastic to wipe that smug look off Eric’s face.

He jerked out of Jimmy’s hold, fist and ja

w clenched, and lunged again. This time, both Rudy and Jimmy caught him. Eric flew up from his chair.

“I didn’t say anything about your precious Laila. I was joking . . . joking about her cousin. I don’t get you, Asher. Your father gave you this vacation to have a summer fling before you start the grind. From what I know about Clark, your dad expected you to bag not just one, but quite a few babes. Any other summer, that’s exactly what you would have done. Since when did you become such a self-righteous son of a bitch?”

Asher strained in the hold, his teeth bared. He started to drag Rudy and Jimmy with him.

“Get out of here, Eric,” Rudy shouted with effort. “I mean it, man. He’s going to kill you. And if he doesn’t, I just might.”

Eric gave them all a superior, disgusted look. “Like you’d ever stand a chance.” He turned and sauntered away, but his pace picked up as he reached the terrace doors.

“Pretty Boy is in an awful hurry all of a sudden,” Rudy observed after Eric had slammed shut the screen door behind him.

“Let go of me, damn it,” Asher grated out, sick of inching along the deck with his friends hanging on him. As soon as they loosened their hold, he lunged toward the doors.

“Asher—”

“Just let him go,” Jimmy said.

Eric was already long gone when he got inside, probably pulling away in his Aston Martin or in his room with the door barricaded to keep Asher out. Jimmy’s weary, exasperated tone echoed in Asher’s ears as he took the stairs two at a time. His friend sensed Asher’s wound-up state. Jimmy knew there was nothing that could be done or said that would calm him down.

Once he got to his room, he searched for his cell phone in his pocket. Maybe Laila had texted. If not, he’d call her.

He cursed when he realized he must have left his phone in the pool changing room earlier. He jogged back down the stairs, making a beeline for the pool house.

“Have either of you seen my phone?” he asked Jimmy and Rudy after he’d searched the changing room and come up empty-handed. Both guys shook their heads. Maybe it had slipped out of his pocket. They helped him look around on the lounge chairs and terrace.

“Never mind. Screw it,” Asher said after a minute, frustrated. He hated how sharp he sounded. He despised himself for his foul mood. “Thanks for helping me look,” he told his friends, feeling guilty. “And sorry. About that before.”

“Don’t worry about it. Get some sleep, man. You look cashed out,” Jimmy said.

But Asher knew he was too wired to sleep. Once in his room, he flung open a dormer window and unhinged the screen. A few seconds later, he climbed out onto the shingled roof.

He sat with his knees bent, looking out at the expanse of the black lake across the horizon. God, he hadn’t come out on the roof to calm down and be alone since he was fourteen years old. There was something about being up so high . . . about being that much closer to the stars that gave him a little perspective. Plus, he’d known his parents would have hated it back then, him being out here on the high, slanted roof. That knowledge had often helped soothe whatever had gotten him riled.

He pressed his forehead against his forearms, willing this feeling inside him to fade. It wouldn’t. He realized what he was feeling wasn’t anger. It was desperation.

Six nights. That was how many he had left here in Crescent Bay. And he was wasting this one.

“Asher?”

He started and lifted his head, sure he’d imagined her voice. He wanted her so much he was hallucinating her presence.

“Asher? Are you out there?”

Adrenaline shot through him, making his veins seem to burn. He saw a flash of movement at the edge of the window eight feet below him.

“Laila?”

“Yeah. What are you doing out there?”

Her flat, incredulous tone brought it home. It really was her. He gave a bark of disbelieving laughter and started to crawl down the roof. He noticed the outline of her shoulders as she leaned farther out the window. Her long hair rippled in the breeze off the lake.

“Don’t come out, Laila,” he insisted. “I’m coming down.”

“Asher, be careful.”

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