Unscripted (34 page)

Samantha
. I was way off.

“
Whatever honey.”

And I also don’t give a shit.

Leaping to her feet she straddles me in one movement and kisses me sloppily while rocking her hips into my lap before I even have time to zip up my pants. Amazing. I treat her like shit and she is still down to screw my brains out. Blondie tasted like tequila and tobacco and shame, but I’m an emotional masochist and all that is wrong with her and this situation only makes my cock hard and ready for round two.

“
Give me a second honey.”

Taking a final pull of Jameson I throw the now empty bottle onto the floor where it clanks against the many others playing the songs of my failure and ever progressing self-destruction. I reach into my pocket and pull my wallet free snatching a condom out of one of the folds. As daring as I was with the blow job there is no fucking way I’m sticking my dick in this girl without protection. Shit the last thing I need is a mini me running around.

Grabbing Blondie’s hips I flip her easily around onto my bed, making sure to press her head into the mattress. No need to see her face. Fuck, I don’t even want to know her name.

She giggles like a little school girl and I try not to feel repulsed. Whoever told women that sounding like a little girl was sexy should have his fucking head examined.

I need to get this over with already.

Pulling my pants down, for the second time tonight, I rip the condom wrapper with my teeth and sheath myself.

“
You ready for me honey?” I rasp into her ear dragging a hand toward the back of her inner thigh and up under her skirt to her center.

No panties.

Typical.

I slide a finger into her and she moans. Damn she is dripping wet, more than ready. Her ass begins to grind upward into my hand and her moans became more frantic. She does have a fucking amazing ass I will give her that.

The tip of my dick is hovering right at her entrance when without warning flashes of
that
night play through my mind like a horror movie.
Her
angelic face ghosts through my closed eyes.

Torturing me. Tempting me. Killing me.

I shake my head as if that will somehow erase the memory, like my brain is a god damned Etch-A-Sketch.

Forget.

Push past it.

Push into her. You will feel release.

Become numb.

Before I slam into her I hear the muffled ringing of my phone from the pocket of my jeans on the floor.

“
Fuck.”

I was so fucking close. Snatching my pants off the floor I clumsily try to pull my phone out of my pocket.

“
Ignore it baby. It’s like two in the morning. Just fuck me already. I’m ready.”

“
Don’t call me baby,” I snarl.

I know how harsh I sound, but where the hell does this chick get off thinking she can call me baby? Only one girl had that right, and she’s dead now.

The caller ID on my phone reads Shayla and I slide a finger across the screen as fast as I can manage.

“
Shayla? What’s up? You okay?”

Trying to hide the panic in my voice is near impossible because my sixteen year old sister calling at two in the morning can mean nothing good. I discard the condom, because I don’t want to talk to my sister with a fucking condom wrapped around my dick, and pull my pants back up over my hips.

“
Liam,” a faint sniffle shudders through the phone and burns into my ear.

What. The. Fuck.

She has obviously been crying and the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

“
Who the hell is Shayla?” Blondie flips dramatically around and shoots an icy glare my way as if she has some claim to me.

I thought my not bothering to remember her name would have been the first hint I don’t give a shit about her, but apparently that wasn’t clear enough. And I do
not
fucking like the way she spits out my sister’s name as if it was poison. I cover the speaker of the phone with my hand and walk the short distance from my bed to my bathroom.

“
My baby sister.
Now,
shut the fuck up.”

Slamming the bathroom door shut I have to lean against the counter to steady my drunk ass, the iridescent lights quickly creating a migraine in my intoxicated brain.

Focus asshole.

“
You okay? What’s wrong sweetheart?”

The relentless thumping in my chest is warning me that I need to calm the hell down before my heart explodes. I press the Harley keys from my pocket hard into my hand in an attempt to focus my rabid energy. That and because I want to be ready to haul my ass home in order to beat the shit out of anyone that is messing with my sister. I may be too fucked up to drive but the blind rage I’ve quickly been accustomed to since
that
night is scorching through my veins. Sobering. Me. Right the fuck up.

“
I’m fine Liam.”

Thank fuck.

“
It’s Dad. He-he can’t do it anymore.” She sniffs into the phone again. That sound breaks me. My sister is the only one that I allow to evoke some semblance of a real emotion in me anymore; if it were anyone else I would push those emotions someplace deep where they can’t affect me.

“
What? What do you mean Shay?”

“
It’s the cancer. I know he told you he was doing fine and was in remission and he didn’t need any help with the bar, but he was lying. The chemo treatments are wearing on him. He’s lost so much weight and he is tired all the time. I’m trying to help, but with school I just don’t have the time to be there as much. And Dory quit so he doesn’t have a manager to help him anymore. He’s at the bar all the time. He’s killing himself. I don’t what to do. I know he doesn’t want you to know, I’m not sure why. But I’m scared Liam. I just don’t- I don’t…” she trails off through a faded sob.

How could my Dad keep this from me? If he hadn’t assured me his cancer was in remission I would have been home months ago to fucking help. Maybe he doesn’t believe I can help. Fuck, he’d be right. I’m in no position to help anyone and he can probably sense it. I have an aurora about me that screams failure to anyone within a universally wide radius. Damn, maybe he doesn’t even want me around. I would be a constant fucking reminder of the night he lost his first born son while me, his other son, did nothing to help.

But I know that’s not the case. No one person; not my mother, my father, my sister, fucking
no one
blames me for what happened. And that makes it so much worse. I would rather their anger and blame then their fucking pity. I don’t deserve to be pitied, or forgiven.

“
Shhh Shay, it’s okay. You’re sixteen, you shouldn’t know what to do,” I tell her running my hand over my face as I sink onto the bathroom floor. “I’m coming back. I’ll hop on the first ferry home tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

“
Promise?” The question came out in a whimper causing me to slam my fist hard on the linoleum floor. I can’t fail her too.

Not her.

No. Fucking. Way.

How could I be snorting, fucking and drinking while my baby sister wasn’t sleeping because she’s too busy taking care of her family? Our family.

Fuck. I’m such a worthless piece of shit.

She sounds so tired, so worn out. How could I have missed this? Just another thing I refuse to acknowledge because I’m so wrapped up in my own bullshit.

Self-loathing can keep a person busy.

“
I promise Shay. Try and get some sleep sweetheart. You hear me?”

“
Okay big brother. I’m-I’m really sorry.”

“
What?”
Jesus
. “Don’t be sorry Shayla. This isn’t your fault. Listen go get some sleep. I’ll be back on the island first thing tomorrow.”

“
Okay.”

“
I’m serious Shayla. Sleep, you got me,” I command because I want to be very fucking sure she listens.

“
Yea I got you.”

“
Good girl. Goodnight sweetheart.”

“
Night. Love you Liam.”

“
Me too.”

I slide my finger across the screen to end the call while I try my best not to fucking crush the phone in my hand. I don’t even realize I am banging my head on the bathroom wall until I hit it a little too hard. But the pain helps. It centers me, it focuses me and with each hit I can feel the anger start to fade away.

“
Liam what’s going on in there? Are you comin’ back out here or what? I cut a few lines in case you need a little pick me up baby.”

Shit.
I fucking forget about what’s her name. And did she just call me baby again?

“
I told you not to call me baby. Do you have a hard time understanding fucking English? You need to get your shit and leave. Something’s come up.”

I don’t bother leaving the bathroom; I don’t need to deal with her drama. I just want her out of my fucking apartment. I’m sure the gentlemanly thing to do is offer to call her a cab and give her money for the ride home, but I’m not a gentleman, she is definitely
not
a fucking lady and I am confident she is a pro at the Walk of Shame so she knows how this works.

“
Are you fucking serious?!” Blondie shrieks as she bangs on the bathroom door. Guess that little girl voice has disappeared.

I don’t bother to respond, I would just be flaming the fire of her inner drama queen and I have neither the time nor the patience for that bullshit. I hear her mumbling something about me being a one pump chump, blah blah blah, can’t get it up and some other nonsense I couldn’t give two shits about. Then the front door finally closes with a bang and I work myself up off the bathroom floor. I turn around and do the one thing I haven’t done in fucking months.

I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The person staring back at me is a pathetic excuse for a brother, for a son, for a human being. My pupils are the size of pin needles, probably because of the massive amounts of coke I’ve inhaled tonight, I haven’t shaved in weeks and my skin is grey.

Not pale. Fucking. Gray.

I guess that’s what happens when your main food group consists of Whiskey and Ramen. Not mixed together. That’s fucking disgusting.

I wonder if this is what Shay looks like right now. I haven’t seen her beautiful face in months so I wouldn’t know. But I know if she looks as bad as me it’s because she has worn herself down by doing something admirable, something to be proud of. Like taking care of her family when they need it most. Something I should be doing. I
need
to do.

I have a fucking chance here. A chance to redeem myself. I’m in a hell of my own making and this is my opportunity to get out. I don’t know if redemption can be found in hell, but I know it’s time to find out. I take one final look at myself in the mirror before I pull my arm up, make a fist, and smash it to fucking pieces.

It’s time to go home.

There are so many people to thank for supporting me during this journey.

Firstly, I must thank my husband, Kevin, for all your love and support. Thank you for not laughing at me, well not laughing
that
much when I told you the idea I had for this “smutty” book. Chimney sweeping still does not turn me on… but we’ll always have the Vicar and Zelda to laugh about.

To my favorite Beta Bitch, you are the William to my Maximus and someone who has become one of my closest friends — AJ. Thank you for our daily chats, Pinterest research power sessions and twitter stalking of our favorite Welsh hottie. Thank you for bringing new obsessions into my life such as “Sons of Anarchy” and Charlie Hunnam (sorry Rachel, AJ did tell me about him first). Thank you for supporting me, being a sounding board of good ideas, my silver linings guru and for making me laugh when I needed it most. Above all, thank you for loving Ronan and Holliday’s story as much as I do; it means so much to me. I honestly cannot remember what my life was like before we figured out we were basically the same person. If I could type this message in complete emojis it would be filled with, half a dozen of the smiley ones, the scared one, the rainbow, the sun, and the ones with the raised arms {we did it}. OH! And for T or P or something, that will never get old. And Boom goes the dynamite! Love you #Heartsong #GoodForYou #MorningsHere #TeamUni