Page 62 of Savored Sins
As I make my way back behind the curtain, I wait for a pause in Trey’s emceeing to beckon him over to the side of the aisle.
He holds the microphone away from us, covers it with his hand, and leans toward me. “Is Zeke here? I saw him walk in, but then you both disappeared.”
I shake my head. I want to tell Trey what happened, but I can’t bring myself to. Not right now, with the music still going on and the lights still dimmed. I need to keep my head up, keep the show going—and I can’t do that if I’m wallowing in self-pity.
“No menswear today,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected. “Our model couldn’t make it.”
Trey meets my eyes. He nods, but doesn’t ask questions, just squeezes my arm and hops back to his post. Trey knows me well. I can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s livid for my sake, but he also knows when I need space.
And so, drawing on the same well of strength I always fell back on when things went to shit with Patrick, I buck the fuck up and pull it together. Menswear line or no, this show must go on. No hungover, vomiting mess is going to be spewing chunks at Boston socialites this morning.
No, sir. No, ma’am. You’re fucking welcome.
thirty
ZEKE
Will: Are you fucking kidding me right now?
Will: Holy shit.
Will: I can’t believe this.
Will: And here I thought maybe you’d follow through on something for once.
Fuuuuuck.
God, I fuckingsuck, man.
I don’t even know how it happened—getting so drunk I passed the hell out and forgot all about Autumn’s fashion show this morning. It wasn’t until a goddamn seagull screeched in my freaking ear that I jerked awake and looked at the time, which is also when I saw the ten missed calls from Autumn and the texts from Lydia and Will.
And hoo boy, those texts from Will have kept on coming. And they arejudgey.
But I deserve it—his judgment. I deserve Autumn’s judgment most of all. I still can’t believe I did that, showing up at her store after the show had already started, in the clothes that I slept in and my hair all over the place.
And throwing up on hersidewalk. God. I’m so embarrassed thinking about it I want to crawl in a hole and die. God knows I’ve thrown up plenty of times in front of hot women—although granted while they were puking, too—but until this morning, I’d never let onedownby hurling. It’s a whole new low, and I’m honestly disgusted with myself.
But forget the embarrassment. The thing that’s really killing me, the thing that’s got me almost paralyzed as I lie here on my bed, face down in the pillow, is knowing that I fucked it all up for her. Autumn trusted me. She let me film at her house, let meliveon her property, and tailored those kick-ass pieces from her men’s line to fit me—all for me to let her down in the most humiliating way possible.
Fuck me, man. I let myself get caught up in the cool shit we were doing together. Skinny dipping, getting it on in alleyways, solvingmurders. But I should’ve known better than to think I had it in me to come through for someone like her. ‘Cause here we are.
Rolling over onto my back, I stare at the ceiling fan while I try to call Benji again. I know he’s going to give me that pained sigh he always does when I do something stupid, but so be it. I need advice, and god knows I’m not going to call my sister. I’m dead meat when she finds out about this.
But Benji doesn’t answer. He’s probably teaching a yoga class or something.
My head is killing me. I’m fully sober now, but the shame is so heavy it’s crushing me. I turn back over to stick my head in the pillow, but as soon as I do, there’s a loud, angry banging at the door.Shit.
It’s obviously Autumn. I’ve got half a mind to just ignore her, pretend I’m not here, but the banging is so incessant and so fucking loud, I’m pretty sure my head’s going to explode. So I heave myself out of bed and trudge to the door, not even caring that I’m only in my boxers and a mismatched pair of socks.
When I open the door, Autumn’s livid face is inches from mine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so pissed off, and it scares the hell out of me. Because I know that rage is meant for me. And even worse, I know I deserve it.
I close my eyes, too ashamed to even look her in the face. “Autumn. I am so,sosorry. I fucked up so bad. I can’t even tell you how awful I feel?—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Autumn says. Her mouth is a thin, tight line. “Everyone’s always talking about what an irresponsible little dick you are, but I didn’t want to believe it. Well, joke’s on me. I think it goes without saying that you’re not welcome to stay here anymore.”
I roll my lips together, fighting the urge to hang my head. My ego can’t take any more hits. I’ve got to at leastpretendto take this like a man. “No problem. I kind of figured.”
“Great, so we’re on the same page,” Autumn continues. “You’ve got until tomorrow to pack up your stuff and get out of here. I’m not going to just, like, kick your ass out on the street, so I already called Lydia. She and Will said you can crash with them for a while.”
