Hooked By Love (7 page)

Josh

After I dropped Zack at the house, I went back to my office in the city. With all my guilt and helplessness, I just couldn’t deal with anything at home. I thought it best to let him be. His resentment was strong enough to last him a few days so I wasn’t about to keep tugging at him. My decision wasn’t based on pity for the boy or to intimidate him, but selfishly, I needed a break from him. Once again, I wasn’t home, as he’d predicted, but I was at the end of my tether with his hostile behaviour. At least at work I could clear my mind of Claire and Zack by polluting it with Craig and business matters.

When I passed by Craig’s office, the door was closed. Something must have gone wrong at the centre, because Craig never closed his door. He liked watching what was going on in the reception area and listening to office chatter. He was an absolute extrovert and couldn’t take a piss without an entourage. Only two things could have caused a closed door today: a secretary on her knees under his desk or a catastrophic blow to his day.

I passed the women in reception and they gestured that my brother was in a mood. With a thumbs up I reassured them I would tame the tiger and knocked on Craig’s door.

‘Craig, you available?’ I said from outside his door.

‘Come in, if you have to,’ he grunted in a muffled reply and I knew there would be a nasty story. All I cared about was whether he’d gone to the centre as I’d asked him. His other problems were none of my concern.

‘Hey, drinking on the job?’ I reprimanded, masking it as teasing.

He sat at his desk, shirt open to his sternum, drinking a tumbler of transparent liquid that smelt like petrol and road kill.

‘Fuck off,’ he moaned. His words were less aggressive and more a sincere request for me to get off his back.

‘Did you go to the centre?’ I asked.

Craig leered at me and chugged back the last of his drink. He got up and poured another.

‘Easy, brother,’ I cautioned. ‘You won’t be able to get home at this rate.’

‘Then I’ll just sleep here in the office. What are you, my keeper?’ he snapped.

‘Just concerned. You look knackered.’ I shrugged. ‘Did you go to the centre or not?’

‘Yes. Oh yes, I did. I went to your precious centre for faggots and I met that slut you think is sooo sweet,’ he barked.

I could smell his breath from across the desk.

‘Slut? Really?’

I doubted him. Rarely did he use the term as a derogatory name. Craig loved sluts. He normally referred to his favourite dates as sluts. But this was not the good, happy term. I kept my offence that he’d called the gorgeous Amber such a name to myself.

‘Listen, you have no idea what she’s like. Jesus. I wish you could have seen the way she practically sucked me off right there in their boardroom,’ he whined.

‘You have got to be shitting me,’ I said, astonished and very disappointed. I supposed looks really could be deceiving.

‘No, I swear to God the bitch was throwing herself at me at every turn, Josh. I guess she’s desperate to keep us from chucking them out. Look, I can appreciate that the place is important to them,’ he explained more calmly, almost sounding reasonable, ‘but to resort to such lewd behaviour to impress me was just fucking embarrassing, man.’

‘She doesn’t look the type,’ I said warily. But saying that I’d known plenty of women who looked like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths but once they were behind closed doors … well that was a different matter altogether. ‘I mean, coming on to you at her work place? Seems a bit far-fetched.’

‘What?’ he cried out. ‘That’s what women do, Josh. The whole fucking bunch of them. Especially when blokes like us have something they want, like money and means. Quite frankly I’m not surprised and I can’t believe you are either.’

I was dumbstruck. If he was telling the truth, this was yet another thing to hit me today that made this day utterly miserable.

I sank down on the guest seat. ‘Craig, pour me some of that liquid death of yours. My day just completely screwed me up the arse.’

‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ he groaned, dragging his carcass over to the cabinet to pour us a round.

My mind raced with all the negative developments of the day.

‘And to think I was accommodating enough to give them the benefit of the doubt.’ I took the glass from Craig.

‘Well we’ve shown that we’d meet them halfway. That we’re not some cowardly, heartless bastards after all. It’s good press, just like you wanted,’ Craig deduced.

‘But nobody knows we went there,’ I said. ‘The public won’t know we took the time and by the sound of it, she certainly won’t admit to it.’

‘Probably not,’ Craig agreed. He gave me a long hard look from across the room, as if he were thinking about something he wanted to say, but he said nothing. He opened the browser on his computer and drew up some sexy modelling footage and music videos while we drank and lamented the wasted day.

‘I take it you still want to go ahead with the eviction?’ I asked as the working day came to an end.

‘Of course. There’s no reason to keep them there. They’ll probably do more harm to those kids than good anyway,’ Craig said. ‘The quicker we get them out of the building, the sooner we can get on with our new project.’

I drank down the awful concoction, my gullet feeling like singed meat, and my lungs begged for air as the last lot came down my throat.

‘I have to go,’ I said finally. ‘There’s still a lovely evening waiting for me at home too.’

‘Zack giving you shit?’ Craig asked at full volume, as if he relished the idea.

‘Yep. The boy is just so confused, I think. And I think he’s angry at Claire. He’s looking for someone to blame for her … you know … what she did. Of course I’m the scapegoat, because he needs to think someone else is to blame for her decision.’

‘And you don’t think he has a point?’

I wouldn’t entertain his cheap shots, especially when he was drunk. In my state, there was no guarantee I wouldn’t get physical. I was that fed up.

‘Goodnight, Craig. See you tomorrow,’ I said dully and flung my jacket over my shoulder.

On my way home, not only did my mind replay all the crap of the day scene by scene, but it also dealt me the harsh words, verbatim, over and over. The lights of oncoming vehicles in the opposite lane appeared extra bright tonight. White brightness bloomed like flowers over my windscreen, blinding me. My mental torment gave life to each and every demon that gnawed at my guilt.

‘Why does Zack blame me?’

‘Why didn’t Claire call me that night?’

‘What made my sister leave her son behind?’

‘Where was I when my sister needed me?’

The questions came one by one with every passing set of headlights, driving me into a guilt-induced spiral until I felt like my glamorous life was actually just a glittery pen. At the pinnacle of my dreadful itinerary of negativity came the thoughts of Amber. I saw her face in my mind’s eye, recalling the way she’d conducted herself on television and how it seemed wholly unlike her to have done the things Craig claimed.

Deeply disappointed that I wouldn’t be engaging with her anytime soon, I decided I would call her and tell her the eviction stood. For some reason, I concluded she’d still be at the centre this late in the evening, so when I got back to the mausoleum I called home, I went straight to my home office and called the centre. I asked for Amber and waited a few seconds before her soft voice came over the line.

‘Amber Cross speaking,’ she said.

I almost stuttered but managed to keep my voice levelled. ‘Hello, Miss Cross, this is Josh O’Neil of Berkley, O’Neil and Associates.’

‘Oh hi, Josh. What can I do for you?’ she answered ever so professionally, but I detected a slight dip in her tone, as if she were emotional.

Listen, I’m just calling on behalf of my company and our affiliates to remind you that the eviction stands and that we expect you to vacate the premises by the end of the month,
I practiced in my head.

‘I was hoping to still catch you at the office.’

‘Yep, still here. Look, it’s been a long day, so if you could just get to the point …’ she said.

‘I’ve had a long day too, believe me.’ I cleared my throat before continuing. ‘I thought I’d give you a ring and check if my brother dropped by today.’

I had to lie, because I needed to stay on the line with her a bit longer if only to hear her voice one last time before we became official opponents over this matter.

‘Yeah, he came by all right,’ she replied, her voice fraught with sadness or whatever weakening emotion drove her. ‘It was not … it wasn’t very pleasant, I’m afraid.’

Zack’s music grew louder in his room, distracting me and resurfacing the annoyance I’d felt at the police station, but then it dawned on me that loud music was usually a decoy to mask something alarming, to keep others from detecting it. What if Zack was like Claire? What if the music was supposed to mask a suicide? I panicked.

‘Um, listen, Miss Cross. Can I drop by tomorrow morning for a quick word?’ I asked, reckoning I should tell her in person about the eviction standing.

‘If you must,’ she deadpanned.

‘See you then,’ I said distractedly and disconnected the call. I hurried to the doorway and saw Zack coming down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

Admittedly, I was very relieved.

Zack

I stood across the road from the large white building and pretended to fuss with my mobile phone as I discreetly watched several people around my age enter and leave. I almost panicked when a woman with red hair appeared at the window on the second floor. I doubted she saw me but I couldn’t be too careful. It was then the familiar roar of my uncle’s car became audible in the air. He was on time for his meeting with the manager of the centre. I’d overheard him talking on the phone to his secretary earlier and for some reason, I’d felt compelled to come here.

Ignoring the rain that had started to fall, I quickly ducked for cover behind the trunk of a thick oak tree, conveniently situated at the edge of the pavement. I pressed my body flat against the rough bark and didn’t dare move for fear of drawing attention to myself. From this vantage point, I could see my uncle’s every move.

I watched his car come to a halt down an alleyway at the side of the building. Through the back window, I could see him preening in the rear-view mirror before exiting his car. His shoulder-length hair was immaculate, as were his clothes. If there was one thing I wanted that my uncle had, it was his confidence. The man had bucket loads of it. You could tell by the way he walked with his head held high and his back straight as a rod as well as through his long purposeful strides.

Within a minute he had disappeared through the open door of the building. I kicked the ground.

Now what do I do?
I didn’t even know why I was here.
Yes you do. Just own it.

My skin crawled as if an army of ants were marching through my veins.

‘Never,’ I mumbled underneath my breath. I felt like an impatient horse
,
frustrated at being held up in the stalls before a big race.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I paced the pavement.
Is there any point hanging around?

Knowing my uncle, he’d be in there for ages, trying to give off the impression he was one of the good guys and there to help.

That was one of the many things that annoyed me about him. He had all the time in the world for others, but I was always last in line. It sucked to know he cared more about his precious car than me.

I walked past the alley where his car was parked, its black hood gleaming in the sun. I halted and retraced my steps. I’d show him. I strode down the alleyway, glancing behind me now and again to make sure no one was watching. When I was sure the coast was clear, I took the penknife I kept hidden in my rucksack, moved to the front of the car and knelt down. In one swift movement, I stabbed at the tyre but the rubber was too tough to penetrate—that was until I kept stabbing it again and again with a greater force of hatred guiding me. As if by magic, the silver tip slid through with ease. A perverse sense of satisfaction hit me when the air spluttered from the tyre and after a few seconds, it flattened on the ground. Inching my way around to the other three tyres, I repeated the actions, slashing and stabbing until I felt spent. A slow smile crept across my lips as I pictured my uncle’s face upon seeing the damage done to his precious car.

It’s a shame my pain isn’t as visible.

I stood and walked back towards the street, my head tucked against my chest. The black hoodie and jeans I wore were nondescript so even if someone saw me leaving the area, there was little chance of them describing my face. That was until I found myself shoulder to shoulder with another body, the collision knocking me sideways. I was now facing in his direction.

‘Hey buddy, careful.’

Instinctively, I looked up into the face of a man who looked a couple of years older than me. Bad move. He had short-cropped blond hair and blue eyes so deep you could drown in them.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled as I turned to go on my way.

He wiped the rain from his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘What’s the matter? Scared of a bit of rain?’

He reached over and took my forearm loosely in his hand. I shrugged it off roughly. I was a bundle of nerves and my muscles were twitchy. My uncle could appear at any second or see me through a window of the centre; the last thing I needed was this stranger holding me up.

‘What the fuck, man? Don’t touch me.’

The man laughed and jerked his head towards the building. ‘Easy tiger. I volunteer at the centre.’

‘And?’ My face flushed hot.

He works at the centre. Does that mean he’s…?
I couldn’t finish the sentence
.

‘And … I saw you hiding behind the tree.’ His body language was open and easy.

‘Well if you saw me, I couldn’t have been hiding, could I?’ The raw aggressiveness in my voice rang in my ears.

‘Oh, in that case, you must be one of those new-age tree-huggers,’ he said stroking his chin thoughtfully. ‘With you pressing up against it so hard, it was difficult to tell what you were doing.’

I took a threatening step towards him and he shuffled backwards, holding his hands up in mock surrender. ‘I’m kidding, mate. You know, joking? You do know what a joke is, right?’

I pulled a face. ‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’

‘No. You look troubled. It’s a look I recognise.’ He gave me a sympathetic stare that made my eyes sting. ‘Look, if you ever want to talk, come and see me. My name’s Paul.’

He stretched out his hand to me. I looked down and ignored it.

He carried on despite my slight. ‘You can ask for me at reception and we can go for a coffee or a walk if you prefer.’

My mouth was dry and my heartbeat was racing. ‘What the hell makes you think I have anything to say to you?’

‘Maybe I’m wrong. But if I’m right, the offer stands. I’m at the centre Monday to Wednesday.’

He turned and walked towards the building. I wanted to call him back, but the words got stuck in my throat. Every nerve ending in my body buzzed with adrenaline as I broke into a trot and headed in the opposite direction.

Paul. I committed the name to memory—just in case.