But I was still mad and a lot confused.
It was a good two hours before the club calmed down enough to be able to take a break to think. I headed up to the office with a cash drop and was met there by Laynie, who, of course, wanted to be part of that thinking.
“He said he still cared about you,” she said after I gave her a brief synopsis of the conversation we’d had in the bubble room. “That’s a good thing.”
I shook my head both at her comment and at the drop sheet that I’d filled out wrong for the third time. “If Hudson said that to you, would you think it was a good thing?” I crumpled up the form and tossed it toward the trashcan, missing. Again. “And honestly, he might have said that just to be polite.”
Laynie pushed up from her chair and crossed in front of my desk, demanding my attention. “He came here right after the verdict was given. Right after, Gwen. He’s been waiting for this for—what? Five years now? And he came straight to you. That’s not for catching up. That’s not to be polite.”
I chewed on the end of my pen. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Maybe you didn’t want to think of it.”
“What does that mean?”
She reached across the desk and pulled the pen from my hand. “It means that sometimes it’s easier to be hurt and closed off than it is to let yourself be loved. I speak from experience. And if you asked Hudson, he could tell you something about it as well.”
She could be on to something. Shutting down was one of my go-to defenses.
But that wasn’t the only reason I felt trepidation over anything happening with JC. He’d been aloof. He’d been distant. He’d—
“He texted me!” I said, suddenly remembering the video he’d sent. I jumped from my seat and headed to my locker to get my phone. I’d meant to grab it when I’d opened it for the keys earlier, but had forgotten it in the bustle to open the club.
“He what?”
“He sent me a video.” I rifled through my purse looking for my cell.
“He sent you a video?” Laynie sounded more suspicious than I was. “Of what?”
Having found my phone, I went back to my desk. “I’m not sure. Haven’t watched it yet.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “Videos are never good. They make me nervous.”
I had a feeling there was a story behind her statement, but I was too singularly focused to press. “I don’t think this is the kind of thing that you should be nervous about.” I sunk into my chair, hitting the icon for my text messages, and before clicking on the video link, saved the unknown number at the top of the list. I debated for only half a second between naming the contact Justin or JC, then settled on the latter.
“Uh, is this the kind of thing you need to watch alone?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, maybe?” The idea that he might have sexted me was distracting, to say the least. It made my skin feel too warm and my throat suddenly moist. I paused, my finger poised above the play button.
No, I was being ridiculous. First chance to send me something, it wasn’t going to be naughty.
“He said this was supposed to explain something about something that he did that was horrible and embarrassing.” I peered up to find Laynie as confused as I’d expected. “Long story. Never mind. Anyway, I’m sure we’re safe.”
The video started, a stationary camera pointed at the front of a room staged as a chapel, classical music playing quietly in the background. The woman I’d met in JC’s hotel room—his “wife”—stood alone, angled toward a bored-looking man holding a binder. She was dressed in a skanky-looking cocktail dress that was too tight for her abundant bosom. Her mascara was smeared and the dazed look in her eyes suggested she was drunk or high or both.
I frowned, confused.
Laynie circled around the desk to watch over my shoulder. “What is this?”
“Not sure yet.” But my neck was stiff and my muscles tight, bracing myself for what I thought it might be.
“It looks like one of those insta-wedding chapels. Did I ever tell you that Hudson wanted me to run to Vegas to marry him in one of those places? I said no, obviously. Men have the strangest ideas of what’s romantic.”
She hadn’t told me. Maybe I should take comfort in the fact that it was possible to still have a successful relationship after turning down a Vegas proposal.
I didn’t though.
The woman on the video drew my attention back with her whining. “Jace.” She kicked at something on the floor. “Ja—ace!”