Echo Bridge Read Free Page B

lifted me off his lap. Which would have been no big deal, except that vodka makes my ego rather fragile, and it seemed utterly preposterous that my boyfriend, who had gleefully dispatched my virginity many months before, might find Horse Riley’s pocket money more interesting than me, his girlfriend, star of the BCD stage and just then wearing silk stockings and a garter belt under my black wool dress. So I squeezed his arm. “Ted,” I said. “I need to talk to you.” It was a little desperate, and like I said, I was a little drunk.
    Ted cupped my face with one hand and kept the other on his cards. “You need a glass of water and a nap,” he said. “You go lie down in the guest room. I’ll come find you in a little while.” He patted my cheek and looked over my shoulder. “Hugh, get Court a soda or something.”
    So I went upstairs to the guest room to pout until Ted came looking for me or I passed out, whichever happened first. Perhaps now is when you’re yelling at the screen, telling the starlet not to go into the basement. You aren’t wrong, but let me remind you: This was my best friend’s house, filled with people I’d known for years. If there was anywhere I thought I could let my guard down, this was it.
    I was in the bathroom when I heard someone in the adjacent guest room.
    “Ted?” I called through the door. I wasn’t on the toilet, only fixing my hair and trying to wipe away the mascara that inevitably smudged under my eyes after a few beers.
    The bathroom door opened and there was Hugh with a can of Diet Coke. Hugh’s gray eyes were almost as pale as his white skin, which I’d always found a little startling.
    “Hi, Hugh,” I said, reaching for the can. “Thanks for the DC.”
    “You’re welcome,” he said, and he caught me by the wrist and shoved me up against the sink. His lips mashed against mine. The can of soda dropped and hit my left foot, hard, before bouncing into a corner.
    I twisted my face away, but he was squeezing my arms against my sides, and his legs pressed my own against the cabinet below the sink. My knees buckled.
    “What the hell are you doing?” I said.
    “Come on, C. I know your whole bombshell act,” he said. His breath was hot and beery on my neck. He slid one finger along what was, yes, a low-cut neckline, but not an open invitation. “I just saw you practically begging Ted for it.”
    “Ted is my boyfriend,” I said. I tried not to breathe. I thought that if he got the impression I wasn’t going to fight him, he’d ease off a bit, and I’d be able to get to the door. I had to get downstairs, back to the crowd, back to Ted.
    “And he’s my best friend. And I’m your friend. So really, what’s the difference, Courtney? Come on. Don’t be a tease.”
    He held my wrists together with one hand. I had always wished I were taller, and the sensation of my wrist bones grinding together in Hugh’s fist reminded me of this. It seemed incredibly unfair that anyone should have such a physical advantage over anyone else. He pulled up my skirt and pushed my legs apart with one of his knees. “Please, Hugh,” I said, and I hated how weak and wavering my voice sounded. Like I had already given up. “Please don’t.” The hand that wasn’t holding my wrists was on me now, in me. Already I wanted to die. I was begging. “Please don’t do this. You’re hurting me.”
    “I like that word, ‘please,’” Hugh whispered. “But,
please
, Courtney. Shut up.”
    I tried, then, to wrench my hands out of his grip. He spun me around easily, like we were dancing, and pinned my arms behind my back. Now I was really helpless, my hips pinned between Hugh’s bulk and the marble countertop, my arms bent so my hands were at my shoulder blades.
Not happening not happening not happening this is not happening to me
. Hugh had one arm between us, reaching down to unzip his pants.
    That was when I started screaming. It was a last-ditch attempt to get out of there, but even