“I guess you look like someone I used to know,” Jake says, ire burning in his eyes as if he has the right to be angry. Is this how it’s going to be? his expression asks.
I set my jaw. Yes. I don’t want to remember you so it’s easier to pretend I don’t know you at all.
Cooper waves his arms between the two of us like a robot. Everyone looks at him apart from Jake and me. We’re too busy staring each other down. I don’t care if it’s immature. I won’t be the first to look away. I’m not the one who did wrong here.
Cooper keeps up his jerky moves. “The tension is killing my party vibe.”
Jake looks away first but my triumph falls flat. There are no winners here.
He tucks his hands into his pockets and mutters, “I’m just gonna head out.” He turns and leaves. The apartment door closes behind him with a soft click.
JAKE
Not slamming that door takes every ounce of my control. Mac wants to play it like we don’t know each other? Fine. Does she want to hold a grudge for eternity? Okay. I get it. I hurt her. Bad. But if that spoiled bitch is pretending to herself that I never meant anything at all, then I’m damn well going to remind her.
Except … I can’t. It’s been two years since the Valentines made sure I removed myself from Mac’s life permanently. I received a phone call from Mitch Valentine the day after she left.
“How is she?” I asked because I was in absolute hell. With Mac gone it felt as if my life was over.
“You don’t get to ask that question. Mac is none of your concern anymore.”
My hand tightened on the phone, nostrils flaring as I leaned my back against the bedroom wall, letting it prop me upright. “It’s a simple question. All I want to know is that she got home and that she’s going to be okay.”
“She’s going to be fine,” was all he said after a long pause.
“Okay.” I drew in an aggravated breath. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“We know.”
Mitch had always been a man of few words. It was frustrating as fuck. “Know what?”
“We know all about your life since you left Sydney, Romero. After you gave us your address to come and collect Mac, Dad did a little digging.” Of course he did. Damn Valentines sticking their fingers in everyone’s pie. “I just got off the phone with him. He had a lot to say.”
Sure he did. After some careful questioning with Mitch, I realised they knew just about everything. “Is there a point to this call?” I eventually asked, because if Mitch had one, he hadn’t reached it yet.
“Yes there is.”
“And?”
“How’s your father doing?”
What the … “He’s fine,” I snapped, annoyed at the change of subject. “Why? Do you know something?”
“I know he’s the reason why you’re caught up in the King Street Boys. We found the lump sum payment you made for his care. Two years’ worth. That’s a lot of money.”
I made the payment a week ago. It was part of the original plan in leaving with Mac. I wanted to make sure Dad was taken care of if something happened to me. “I had to do something.”
“I know. But you don’t have to live this life anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“We can get you out.”
I turned around and pressed my forehead to the wall, closing my eyes. I hated that they knew my business. But what I hated more was hearing Mitch offering to help. I wanted to leap at it. At this point I’d do anything. Even accept the offer. But I couldn’t because it was too late.
“I already tried.” My voice cracked and it was embarrassing. I cleared my throat.
“And you failed,” he said as I walked to my bed. Sinking down on the edge, I pressed the phone to my ear with one hand and held my head with the other. “With these people, Romero, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. If you want out, consider it done. Just say the word.”
“How?” I asked. “Who is it you know?”
“Does it matter?” At this point, no, it didn’t. “Just say the word, Romero.”
“Goddammit.” I took a deep breath. “Get me out.”
So they did. But freedom comes at a price. And we all know the cost. Stay away from Mackenzie Valentine. Except somehow we’ve been thrown together again. How am I supposed to do the right thing and keep my distance when fate keeps making it impossible?
Walking inside my apartment across the hall, I swipe the half empty bottle of Jack from the counter. Tipping it back, I swallow easily as I wonder what Mac is doing here in Melbourne.
Her face swims in my head as the alcohol burns through me. Fuck. I’ll never dig her out from under my skin. I swig another huge mouthful of whiskey and choke, sputtering it everywhere. How am I going to live across the hall from her in a constant state of look but don’t touch. It’s going to send me insane.
Spinning, I throw the bottle against the wall. There’s no satisfaction in watching it shatter everywhere.
“Dude,” Frog says as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
My head is fuzzy. I’m drunker than I realised. Jason Froggatt, my bandmate, roommate, and the best bass guitarist I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, stands in the doorway with his hand still resting on the handle. He looks so much like our other roommate, Cooper, they could pass for brothers. Frog’s brow is wrinkled, his dark brown eyes forlorn as he stares at the shattered bottle. Alcohol pools on the floor amongst shards of glass and clumps of dust.
“Why …” he starts and then trails off as if he can’t speak. The waste of a Jack bottle is simply too much for him to comprehend.
“It slipped from my hand,” I lie.
His gaze drops to my hand. He’s inspecting it for lube. The last time booze was dropped in this house happened when Frog was drinking and rubbing one out at the same time. With the excessive amount of lube he somehow managed to get all over himself, the bottle glided right out of his slicked up hand and hit the bathroom mirror. The loud crash had Cooper and me running. We opened the door and found Frog standing naked in a pile of mirror shards, dick in hand, wailing about the seven years of bad luck about to rain down on his head.
“What was that about back there?” he asks as I open kitchen cupboards, looking for something to clean the mess with. The empty shelves stare back at me as I think about how to answer Frog.
Oh that’s just Mac once again reappearing in my life. You know her, right? Except he doesn’t know her because I never told anyone I let the best thing in my life slip right through my fingers without a fight. No point explaining to anyone that I’m a stupid sonofabitch. But I’m a sonofabitch that sleeps at night knowing she’s better off without me, right? Right?
I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I can guess what the Valentine brothers will do. The minute they get wind of our inadvertent reunion, shit will hit the fan. I’ll be in for the beat down of my life.
I slam the kitchen cupboards closed. There’s nothing to tidy the mess with. When you’re at the shops with limited funds and it comes down to either booze or cleaning supplies, what kind of chump buys a dustpan and broom?