Shades of Sydney (Sydney West #1) (11 page)

Jason swallowed too hard and pounded on his chest to stop coughing. “You have a good point. I think—”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through. There’s a reason I live this way.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at the elderly couple strolling by. When they were gone, he looked at me. “I see no good reason anyone, man or woman, should just fuck the person next to them. It should be out of care, love, and friendship. Not boredom, drugs, or some lame attempt to work out your issues.” Jason grabbed a napkin and crushed it in his fist. “If you think you can escape by using sex, then you’re in for more problems than—”

I pointed my finger at him. “Problems? I have no—”

A sick grin turned his lips. It was sarcastic in nature. “I’m not saying you’re sick, I’m just saying—”

My arms ached. All I desired at that moment was to punch Jason in the face, but that wasn’t ladylike. Instead I clasped my hands in my lap, digging my fingernails into flesh until pain overcame my anger.

“Please, I’m not sick. That would mean there’s some kind of cure out there. No, I’m insane. Just place me into the asylum and throw away the key.” I tossed my hand as if throwing a key over my shoulder.

Jason set his jaw and surveyed the area. Some people were giving us curious looks, but there wasn’t a crowd. Not yet.

“Sydney, let me explain. I didn’t mean to offend you. But when you do stuff like bringing rockers to dinner and making out with them that has to mean something.” He rubbed his forehead and looked down at the rest of his pretzel. He held it, but didn’t eat anymore. “I’m worried about you.”

I laughed. It was thick and foreign to me. “If you’re so worried, why did you storm out of the restaurant?”

He gave me a grim look, making me wish I hadn’t replied. “Really? You were all over him and I was the fifth wheel. It was uncomfortable and I know you were doing it to spite me, so I took off.”

Damn it. Jason could see through my wicked ways, but that didn’t matter. There was no getting to know my winter frozen heart.

I crumbled my wrapper and sucked on my straw until the sound of empty rang in my ears. I wanted to leave before Jason and I spilled any blood. One false move or sentence could ruin the whole balance of things.

“I better get going,” I said, getting to my feet.

“Wait,” he paused, searching for the right words, “there’s something about you, Sydney. I like you and I’m not into pursuing girls that like to brush me off, but my gut tells me there’s more to you than you let people see. You pull away from people before they can get to know you. I liked that girl who helped me bring that keg upstairs, that girl who danced with me at my uncle’s club.”

My stomach dropped. What was he saying? “I’m sorry, but you are wasting your time with someone like me. Give up now while you’re ahead.” I stood and gathered my bag and purse in my arms.

“Why are you selling yourself short?” he asked, reaching out for my arm.

I took a step away. “I’m no good. I’m broken. There’s no point in trying to fix something that’s shattered into millions of tiny pieces.”

I turned and raced away from him. Once I felt there was a comfortable amount of distance between us, I looked over my shoulder. He stood by the metal table with a melancholy look on his face. It wasn’t sorrow or pity, just solemn.

Never let anyone close was the code I lived by. Jason seemed to want to break that. It was like he was trying to win me back somehow, acting like it was a mistake to write him off after we slept together.

He wasn’t going to win, though. I was too set in my ways. He was in a losing battle on a sinking ship. I always pushed people away. Never would I pull someone in. That ended in heartbreak and agony. If I could avoid such feelings, I was going to. Life wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. After all, we don’t get out alive.

Chapter Fourteen

That didn’t happen. It didn’t happen.
I kept repeating those words in my head while pacing the floor in my bedroom. What was wrong with Jason? I never gave him a flirtatious vibe, or had I? I slept with him, but sex was sex. Just two hot, sweaty bodies feeding their lust for skin. If that was true, then why did it seem like Jason wanted more?

If I thought about him too long, I’d drive myself mad. If only I knew the answer. That was all I wanted, an answer to my simple question. Was that so hard to ask for? I guess the universe thought so. Maybe it liked to torture me.

My cell phone buzzed, killing my thoughts. I wandered to my bed and scooped up my phone. I had a new text.

Party Alert! Be at Wicked Love at 11 tonight!

It was a mass text to people on a list. I was on a lot of lists these days. Meeting people at parties, clubs, and bars had its upside. I needed a distraction. What was better than dancing in a seedy room with neon lights and crowds of intoxicated people?

“Amelia, do you want to come to a party with me tonight?” I shouted from my room. She was in hers, probably obsessing over the songs she thought matched her relationship with Hunter. One of her favorites was “Just a Kiss” by Lady Antebellum. She kept playing it on her sound system. The playlist was for their month anniversary.
Kill me now.

“Can Hunter tag along?” she shouted back.

I mentally kicked myself. Of course he had to come too. It was like he was attached to her hip. Soon I was going to hear wedding bells or a baby crying in Amelia’s near future. Maybe both.

“I guess.”

“Yay! I’ll text him now.”

Was it too much to ask for a girls’ night out with my best friend? She’d have to know Hunter wasn’t invited to one of those if I put emphasis on it, but then I’d have to hear all about him. Ugh. Where was the Amelia I came to California with, the one who was excited to party and get trashed?

“When and where is it?” she asked, padding into my room. I looked up at her. She was staring at her phone, ready to text what I said.

I told her. She sent it that same minute. “I’ll let you know what he says. I’m going to go down to make a sandwich. Do you want one?”

“What kind?”

“Turkey and cheese.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” She turned to walk away. Her phone buzzed. She began to read its screen and a smile of a fool in love curled her glossed lips. “Hunter says he’s onboard with the party.”

“Something tells me he said more than that.”

She blushed. “He always says he loves me.”

My stomach knotted. “That’s sweet,” I said. It was hard to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

“Mmm-hmm,” she muttered. She was all into her phone, texting or maybe sexting, I didn’t want to know.

It was one o’clock. There were still ten hours to burn before the party. It didn’t make sense to get ready now. My hair would get frizzy and my makeup would fade before then. Looked like I had time to spare. I was going to waste some hours reading. I had literature in the fall and we had to have some books in our heads to discuss.

Grabbing the blue book off my nightstand, I went downstairs. Amelia was making sandwiches, like she promised. I read as she drifted around the kitchen getting lunch prepared.

“Here you go.” Amelia put a paper plate with a sandwich and a handful of chips on the coffee table in front of me.

“Thanks.” I traded my book in for the food. My sandwich was cut in half diagonally. I felt like a child eating a lunch her mother made.

“No problem.” She plopped herself next to me.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. “Do you think I’m good enough for Hunter?” Amelia asked after wiping her mouth on a napkin.

I swallowed my bite, pausing the chip I was about to put into my mouth. “Of course. You should be asking if he’s good enough for you.”

She nodded, but didn’t look convinced. I licked the salt off my lips, thinking of something clever to add. “You’re in a new relationship. Just wait it out. You two seem to be having fun. What makes you question things?”

Amelia slumped back on the couch. “Just wondering why such a nice, handsome guy would want me, you know? You probably never felt this way.” Her fingers broke potato chips into small fragments on her plate. This problem was affecting her appetite.

“Why do you assume that?” I kept my frustration out of my voice.

“You know what you want. You see a guy and you’re like, he’s going to be mine. I mean, you brag about snagging a guy who came to a party with another girl and left with you. I could never do that. I don’t think I could even flirt with a guy who was with someone.”

I closed my eyes in thought. “I’m not sure if that was a diss or a compliment.”

“It was a compliment. I’m just saying you’re a go-getter. You see what you want and you go after it no matter what. I’ve seen you do it with other things too, like college.”

“Give me an example.” I wasn’t sure if she was serious or trying to save face.

She looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Umm…like when that counselor wasn’t going to let you into ceramics because it was full. You didn’t take no for an answer. You found the instructor, convinced him he needed you in the class, and he waived you in. I could never think out-of-the-box like that and go over people’s heads.”

I smiled at the memory. I was a ruthless bitch. “You have to know what you want and never stop until you get it. Life will never hand you anything. Things only come to those who fight and work for it.”

“More wise advice enlaced by quotes. What’s another philosophy?”

I sucked my bottom lip in, trying to think of what to say. “Uhh…life is not fair. Life owes you nothing and why should it?”

Amelia nudged me with her arm. “That was deep.”

I laughed. “I read that one online.”

“The Internet at its best.”

We laughed. I clicked the television on, surfing for something to watch. Settling for a sitcom, we sat and laughed like we used to. Just two best friends hanging out with each other.

Chapter Fifteen

Two hours until the party and I had nothing to wear. The closet was full yet nothing looked suitable. I dug through my options. An off-the-shoulder number caught my eye. It was a short crimson dress. I took it off the hanger and put it up to my body, studying my refection in the full-length mirror. The scoop neckline wasn’t deep enough to wear the necklace I wanted to, but I could live without it. Most of the time less jewelry was the best option; less to lose while getting
close
to someone.

My hair wasn’t obeying me. I wanted it to have a touch of a wave, but it wasn’t working. To end the feud, I straightened it all. My long hair fell around my shoulders. The desire to put something in my hair came over me. I let it pass. If I put a hairband in I’d feel like a high school girl and not a grown woman.

Adding black eye shadow to match my eyeliner made my blue eyes appear more dramatic. Blood red lipstick matched my dress perfectly. All I needed was the right set of heels. They couldn’t be red because that would’ve been too much. My heart settled for my raven black pumps. After a once over in the mirror, I felt like I was ready to conquer the world. With my clutch in hand, I went to Amelia’s room to see if she was ready yet.

I found her hands on her hips with only blue jeans and a white bra on. “What’s up?” I asked.

She looked at me over her shoulder. “I don’t know which top to wear. Wanna help me pick?”

“Sure.”

I walked into the room. Standing next to her, I looked down at the options. There were three shirts laying in a row on her bed. The closest was solid silver with sparkles around the deep V-shaped neckline. In the middle was a black and white striped babydoll top. Finally the third was a one-shouldered tee that had an image of Marilyn Monroe doing her signature skirt pose. I clicked my tongue while weighing the choices. I knew why she was being so picky. It was for Hunter, blah.

“If I were you, I’d vote for the striped one. It’s casual yet sassy.”

“Yeah?” She reached for it, pressing it to her body. Her hair hid her face like a curtain as she looked down, examining the shirt. “I think you’re right. I’ll wear this. Thank you.”

“With that out of the way, are you going to be ready soon?”

She said something as she slid the shirt over her head. It was muffled and inaudible.

I tilted my head. “What did you say?”

“I said I have to brush my hair, already did my makeup.” She stood in front of me. I could see her hazel eyes were highlighted by black mascara and green eye shadow.

“All right, I’m ready when you are. I’ll be downstairs.”

“Okay.”

I left her to do her finishing touches. I had the urge to make a stiff drink, but resisted. I could down all the drinks I wanted at the party. If I wanted to save money, I could have horny boys buy them for me and then break their little hearts when I refused to let them take me away to their beds.

I drummed my fingernails on the counter to pass the time. Surprisingly, Amelia was down within ten minutes. Maybe she was in a rush due to withdrawals from being away from her beloved Hunter for too long.

***

We were fifteen minutes late to the party, but it’s classified as making an entrance when one is late. The party was already in full swing. Amelia giggled like a little girl on her way to meet her favorite Disney character as Hunter came to join us. He had waited outside, leaning against the wall, looking like a backup for the beefy bouncer. I told the bouncer my name and we were let in.

Sickeningly sweet perfume and marijuana smoke filled my lungs. The club was high roller so they got to pull some strings, also known as bending the laws.

The scent didn’t do much to me. Amelia waved a hand in front of her and wrinkled her nose. I guess parties seemed similar after you attend more than one hundred in your lifetime, yet they always had something about them that drew me to them. Perhaps I was addicted.

Looking behind me, I realized I had lost Amelia. She was off with Hunter, probably in search of a quiet corner with less smoke.

Pushing my way to the bar, I ordered vodka on the rocks. I downed it and ordered another.

“Save some for the fishes,” a guy said to my right.

I glared at him. “It’s fish, and they don’t drink liquor, nitwit.”

“Touchy,” he muttered. I saw him take his drinks and take off. Good idea. I wasn’t in the mood for idiots.

Half an hour later, I was buzzed, but not drunk. I wanted to be trashed. It would’ve forced my mind to stop thinking about things I didn’t want in my head.

A large hand pressed into my lower back. At first I thought it was an accident, just someone passing by, but it lingered. The guy was intentional. “Drinking alone, baby?”

I swirled the last shot of vodka in my glass. I wanted to hit the guy but resisted. I didn’t want to be thrown out. “No, don’t you see all these people?”

“But no one seems to be
with
you. I can be yours, baby.”

He sat down next to me. He was taller than Jason and had a toothpick hanging out of his mouth. A leather jacket hid his body, but his hands gave away how thin he was. He wasn’t my type.

“I’ll pass. Thanks anyway.”

“Come on. Just try me on. I won’t bite, at least not hard.” He laughed at his own joke.

I recoiled, feeling the need to throw up all of a sudden. “Dude, I’m not drunk enough to talk to you. Go away.”

“Let me help you then.” He motioned to the bartender, getting me another vodka. He was persistent.

I accepted the drink, but not his offer. He brushed hair off my shoulder. My body winced at his touch. It felt like acid was licking the flesh he came in contact with.

“Can’t you get the hint?” I turned to face him. “Let me tell you how this night will go down. You’ll flirt and I’ll drink, but I’ll never lower my standards enough to fuck the likes of you. So in the end it will be you and your hand tonight unless you work your pathetic moves on some other girl with no standards. That or buy a trick.”

“Bitch,” he spat. I shrugged. Why deny the truth? He left me be.

“Thought I was going to have to rescue you from that guy.”

I turned to see who was talking. Jason came into view, taking the seat the creep was just occupying. “Are you stalking me again?” I asked.

He laughed. “Hell, no. I happened to be invited to this and heard your voice.”

I downed my shot and puckered my lips. “Hmm…”

“You do well alone. I always wondered if you could stand up for yourself since you go to so many scenes like this one.”

“I know how to take care of myself. Done it for a while now.”

“It shows.” He waved to the bartender, ordering a whiskey straight.

I got another drink too, but swirled it in my hand instead of downing it again.

The party started to heat up. People swarmed the bar. Arms became cages, trapping Jason and me at the counter.

“Want to go somewhere else?” His hand was already on my arm, towing me away.

With my drink clinched tightly, I let him take me to an empty booth. I watched the people consume their alcohol and dance around each other. It was like a mating call, or a cry for help.

Settling into the booth, I inhaled a breath full of cigarette smoke from a girl passing by. I wanted to yell at her, tell her to take the damn cig outside, but the music was too loud. Instead I coughed and cursed under my breath. There were laws that banned smoking, but certain places thought they were above the law and got away with things most couldn’t.

Taking a swig of my vodka didn’t help my burning throat. It only made me cough harder. Out of habit, I pounded the table with my fist. It didn’t do anything for my throat, but it made me feel better mentally, release of stress and all.

“Are you okay? Should I get you some water?” Jason called from across the table.

It took a few minutes for me to regain my voice. “No, thank you. I’ll live.”

He didn’t reply. Sipping his drink, I knew he was thinking of something to say. All my bones and nerves told me I wouldn’t like what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Do you really feel like you’re broken?”

I pointed to my ear, wanting to make sure I heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

He licked his lips, thinking of a way to explain. “When we were eating pretzels at the mall, you mentioned you thought you were broken. Did you mean that?”

It was my turn to lick my lips. I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “I do…”

A frown pulled his mouth down. “Why on God’s green earth do you think that?”

“Are you my therapist now?” I snapped.

“No, I’m trying to be a friend. You wanna be a bitter person, be my guest.” He waved his hand over the table, as if dismissing me.

“Things have happened to me during my life…”

“What was that?” he asked, leaning across the table.

I couldn’t believe what was about to fall out of my mouth. I leaned forward and repeated myself. “Things have happened to me during my life…”

“What happened? If I may ask.”

I eyed my glass. “Same as most people, I guess. My parents loved to fight, saw way too much domestic violence growing up.”

My heart went to my throat, choking me. Why did I confess something intimate to Jason? In a club of all places too. I was screwed up.

I chewed my bottom lip. It felt like my skin was ripped away and my winter-coated heart was on display, reflecting the neon lights like a disco ball. I was an Opheliac. As my favorite singer, Emilie Autumn, defined the term, an Opheliac was someone, usually a woman, who suffered from some kind of madness.

Jason stared at me, waiting for me to go on. I was lost in my thoughts for too long.

I picked at my nail beds. “Things got better once they parted ways, but it was messy.”

His face distorted. I couldn’t identify the emotion. “How so?”

“Let’s just say it included a handgun and police.”

“Hold on.” Jason got up and sat down next to me, forcing me to move closer to the wall. “Okay, I can hear you better from here.”

“Like I was saying, it included a handgun and police.”

“Oh, that’s it?” he asked sarcastically.

“Do you want me to finish or not?” I asked pointedly.

“Sorry, go ahead,” he said. I barely heard him over the noise. The DJ turned the volume up a few notches.

“That night my father was being an ass. He threatened my mom’s life, punched her a few times, and also kicked a hole in the wall. Then he turned the radio to a rock station. All I could hear was Kiss. Don’t remember the song, though. Anyway, my mom went into the room to change her clothes and he snapped, grabbing a gun and threatening her to get out of
his
house.”

Jason hung onto my every word. His mouth was a perfect O.

I licked my lips and continued. “He had the safety on luckily and she was able to get the gun away from him. My mom had reached her breaking point and went outside to call the cops. Before she did, she told me to lock myself into my bedroom and not come out until she said so. I had to find my cat first and went into his room briefly to look under the bed.”

He closed his mouth and swallowed. “Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head. “No, he never hurt me physically, but the mental scars are still there.”

“So…what happened…?” The words hung in the air.

I clinched my jaw. A girl like me shouldn’t spill her life like this, yet it was easy to string the words together.

“I asked him if he’d seen my kitty. He said no, then ignored me. I finally found him under the couch in the living room and when I looked out the window, I saw the cops outside coming to talk to my mom. I ran into my room and locked the door. The cops came in a few minutes later…” I paused for a moment, reliving it in my head. “I saw the beam from their flashlights under my door. They tried to reason with my father, but he went off the hinges and shouted he was an American. He asked if they’d like him to enter their homes in the middle of the night and point guns at them and accuse them of…I don’t know what he was saying, he was drunk. I remember the cops telling him to stand with his hands on his head. I guess he was wandering around the room as he ranted. It didn’t help he took out the light bulbs from the ceiling fan so the police couldn’t see much. He had a lot of weapons on his side of the bedroom, guns and knives. My mom probably warned the cops about them and that’s why they wanted him to be still.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “He was crazy enough to spook the cops?”

“Yeah, they told him to calm down or they’d taser him. I heard a shuffle and finally their footsteps going to the front door…and that’s how my dad left the house.” I took a breath. “Life got a little easier after that.”

Jason’s face was blank, like he didn’t know how to feel. “How old were you when all that happened?”