High (21 page)

“Ah, but your daughter really does appreciate me, in every possible way.” I smirk. “So you are going to sit here. You are going to listen to what I have to say, and then, you are going to help me.”

He opens his mouth to say something and then slams it shut, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arm rests so hard his knuckles turn white. “You have two minutes.”

Two minutes to try and salvage something good from this situation.

Fucking Miles McQueen, he’s an asshole and he doesn’t deserve a daughter like Blake, but fuck, he likes to push me. I storm into my office and slam the door, only to find Milan sitting on my couch.

I drag a hand through my hair and take a seat at my desk. “I’m busy, Milan. I don’t have time for this.”

“I swear to you if you hurt her I will do hard fucking time for what I’ll do to you.”

I frown. “What? Look, people break up, Milly. It’s shit, but she’ll get over it.” She stops pacing and narrows her eyes at me as if studying me.

“I can’t believe you bailed on her.” She mumbles, shaking her head.

“I did not fucking bail on her!” I shout. “She can’t even help herself!” If only she knew. Part of me wants to walk away from her, regardless of the consequences to myself, because I know it will be best for her in the long run. But the other part fucking wants to be with her, even if I know we’ll crash and burn eventually. Even if it’s only for a moment in time. She’s mine.

She stops and leans over my desk, bringing her eyes level with mine. “I took you for an intelligent person. Do you not think that there’s a reason?” She asks. “I will tell you this, and what you do with it is your choice. The one thing that will send Blake running for the coke is her parents. They rejected her, and now, so did you.” Her gaze softens. “If you can’t see how deeply unhappy Blake is, then you’re fucking blind.” And with that, she turns away. “And you had best hunt down the cunt who hurt her, or I will.”

“What?” I growl.

“Go and see for yourself.” She throws over her shoulder.

I wake up to banging on the door, which, as usual, falls in line with the banging in my head. I roll over and glance at the clock. It’s midday. I would be worried that I’d wasted half the day if I actually had anything to do, but I don’t.

I crawl out of bed and pick up the bottle of cheap vodka that’s on the bedside table, taking a heavy swig and coughing. Oh, god that is so nasty, but not as bad as the hang over will be if I don’t drink it. My eyes start to water as the alcohol stings my split lip. You know you’ve hit the low when you can’t even be bothered to leave the house for alcohol or drugs and are reduced to some cheap as fuck vodka. Come to think of it, why is this even in the house? It tastes like rubbing alcohol.

The banging continues and I walk down the hall towards the door. “Felix, that had better be you, and you had best have something on you!” I shout, unlatching the door and swinging it open, only to come face to face with Rhett.

He folds his arms across his chest looking down at me. His eyes hone in on my lip, then my jaw and his expression becomes murderous. “What. The. Fuck?” He snarls through gritted teeth. I have no idea what my face even looks like, but it hurts, and the vodka on my lip smarts like a bitch.

I don’t need this now. I don’t need him. I go to slam the door straight in his face, not because I don’t want to see him, but because it hurts, his rejection hurts. He throws his hand out, shoving the door back open.

“Oh, no, we need to talk.” He barges his way inside my apartment.

I have to walk away because I can’t look at him. His face is too perfect, too beautiful. I want to kiss him and slap him at the same time, and then I want to slap myself for being so fucking pathetic around him.

“Who did that?” He demands, and it gets my back up immediately because it’s none of his fucking business.

I turn to face him and he stops, close, too close. I hold up a hand. “Okay. We really don’t need to talk. We’re done. I’m none of your fucking concern, and you certainly aren’t any of mine. Now get out.” My heart splutters painfully in my chest, so I pick up the nasty vodka and take a heavy swig. He eyes the bottle like it’s a rattlesnake. I just want him to look how I feel, like something in him is broken, but he doesn’t. He looks perfect, just like he always does. I want to break him. I want to hurt him. “This…” I wave a finger in his direction. “Is why you should never fuck a one-night stand more than once.”

“Is that why your drinking vodka in the middle of the day? Because I was just a one-night stand?”

Oh, the bastard is so sure of himself.
“Noooo, I’m drinking vodka because I just woke up, I have a hangover, and there’s no blow in the house.” He steps closer to me, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting my head to the side. I rip my face from his grip. “I’m fine.”

He drops his hand to his side and glares at me. “You are not fine, Blake. You’re a fucking mess.”

I snap. “Fuck you, Rhett! Who are you to judge me? Your own fucking brother is a drug dealer.” His eyes flash and I can practically see the shutters slam down. “Oh, you thought I didn’t know about that? Well, I do.” He drops his gaze to the floor, clenching his jaw. “You know, I liked you, until you became just like everyone else, judging, trying to change me, trying to fit me into your perfect fucking box.” I rant.

“I just want you to grow the fuck up and get over your daddy issues!” I flinch as if he’d just slapped me. “You bitch about your fucking dad, and yet all you do is destroy yourself, just so you can stick it to him.”

“You know nothing about me.” I choke.

“I know enough that I find it fucking sad that you do this to yourself, that you’re still so bothered by your parent’s opinion that you’ve become
this
.”

A stray tear tracks down my cheek and I wipe it away quickly. “Leave.” I whisper.

His fingers brush my cheek and I jump away from him as if he’d burned me. “I want to know who did this.” The anger in his voice is barely concealed.

“Have you forgotten? I’m a druggie, an alcoholic, a fucking mess.” I spit. “I probably walked into something, fell over, started a fight. Who knows?” My stomach tightens as my mind flashes through images of that man choking me, back handing me. I tug at the collar of my jumper, pulling it higher.

“Tell me.” He demands. 

“Look, are you going to leave?”

His eyes lock with mine, that domineering intensity pouring from him. “No.”

“Great.” I pick up my bottle of vodka and go to the kitchen, opening the cupboard. The fact that I live on take away food is not helpful right now, but I spot a bag of crisps and grab them. He watches me the entire time, with his arms folded across his chest. And when I make my way to my room he follows me. I’m not arguing with him, there’s no point. I won’t win. 

I grab my iPod and laptop from the bed and take everything in the bathroom before slamming the door in his face and locking it. I’m just going to wait him out.

“My mind is coming up with really nasty reasons as to why you’ve taken food and your laptop in the bathroom with you.” He says from the other side of the door.

I sit on the closed toilet seat and cross my legs, pressing my hand over my mouth to try and stop the broken sobs that are trying to break free. “You might like to watch porn and have a snack while you take a shit but I don’t.” I try to put strength into my voice, but the truth is, having him here is harder than it should be.  “I’ll be here a while. You should just let yourself out.” I tell him.

“I’ve got all fucking day, Duchess.”
Prick.

It’s then that my phone pings with a text from Milly
: So, I might have paid Rhett a visit and he might be coming over. Sorry! Xx

Great. Thanks for the advanced fucking warning.

Four hours, two movies, and an unsuccessful Rhett Torres Facebook stalking session and I’m bored. I haven’t heard any movement on the other side of the door, but that doesn’t mean anything, and I should have known he’d have more patience than me. I’m debating giving up when I spot the hamster’s furry little form squish under the door. I’ve named him Jackie, after Jackie Chan, because he’s a stealthy little ninja who slips in unseen by anyone but me apparently. So now everyone thinks I’m crazy, or high. He makes me smile though. He’s sort of just living free range in the flat. I feed him and Larry hasn’t eaten him yet.

“Hey, Jackie. I brought you crisps.” I throw one on the floor near him and he jumps before cautiously approaching it. He grabs it and sits up like a little meerkat, shoving bits of crisp in his cheeks. He’s actually really cute.

“Are you talking to yourself now?” Rhett sounds like he’s away from the door.

“Why are you still here? I’m going to call the police and say you broke in here.”

He laughs. “We both know you have more illegal substances in this house than Felix has at the club. You aren’t calling the police.”

“Fuck you!” I shout. “I have a joint here, that’s it.” I blew through everything else last night.

“Enough to get arrested.”

“As it happens, I quite like the strip searches. Especially that last time, he was so very…thorough.”

He ignores me.

There’s a beat of silence and I consider going out there, but the thought of having to face him makes my stomach bottom out. I stand up and walk to the door, pressing my forehead against the wood. “Please, Rhett.” I say quietly. “Please just leave.”

I hear his footsteps on the wooden flooring growing louder as he approaches the door. “I can’t, Duchess.”

“No one hurt me. You don’t have to do the whole alpha thing, okay?”

I hear him sigh. “Why are you lying to me?”

I turn and press my back to the door, sliding down it. The massive floor length mirror opposite the door throws my pitiful reflection back at me. I pull the collar of my jumper down and see the black bruises covering my throat.

I rarely cry, but apparently I’m all about the tears today. A sob tears free from my throat and I slam my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the awful sound. Tears track down my cheeks. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I guess this is what it feels like when you hit the bottom of that long descent into oblivion. I’m not upset that I got attacked, it was my own fault, a chain of bad reactions and decisions. I let my parents get to me. I let them push me to that point where a bag of blow seemed like the only way out, it cost me Rhett, and then I let that push me over the edge all over again.

All I feel is this all-consuming misery, and I wonder how the hell I got here?

“Duchess.” Rhett says quietly from the other side of the door. “I’m sorry.” I say nothing as I stare at my reflection, at the pathetic girl staring back at me. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Why not?” I croak. “You said yourself I’m a mess.” I laugh. “Just a statistic waiting to happen, a brat with daddy issues. It’s who I am.” I say sadly because I’m not sure I want to be that person anymore.

“This is not who you are, it’s just what you do.” Hurt ripples across my chest. “You’re better than this, Blake.”

I feign a small laugh. “Of course I am. That’s why you left.” The thought that he sees beneath my shit and still left, well, that’s far worse than thinking that he just left because I’m a worthless druggie. The hurt feels like a vice around my chest, so I lash out. “Shit. Please go, Rhett. I don’t want you here! Stop trying to psychoanalyse me and just fucking leave!” Another traitorous tear slips free. How does he do this to me? Make me feel so strong most of the time, but with the ability to render me so weak?