Heartless Few Box Set

by MV Ellis

  “Stop being a fucking drama queen, as usual. Nobody’s life is ruined. Not even close. I can fix this.”

  “Really? Is that why I just spent half an hour holding London in my arms while she sobbed her heart out over your callous stupidity?”

  “What?” He was on his feet sooner than I could say “giant douche.”

  “You heard me, dickwad. She tried to put a brave face on it, but she’s fucking heartbroken, man.”

  Arlo’s whole body seemed electrified as he threw himself back into his chair. He was so riled up, I couldn’t tell if he was angry that he’d hurt London or that I was the one to have comforted her. I strongly suspected it was the latter, which in turn made me see red. Why was he this way? I knew Gramps kind of half joked about his sociopathic tendencies, but I was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t actually some truth to it. How could it be so hard to see any side of the story other than his own? All. The. Fucking. Time.

  “Seriously, dude, what were you expecting? She came to work and found you with your dick stuck in another woman. Of course she’s upset. Should I have just left her to cry, or should I have done what any true friend would do and try to make her feel better? I don’t know why I’m even asking you that—you’re clearly not capable of caring enough about someone else to even understand what I’m talking about.”

  Arlo’s face contorted in a way I’d never seen it before—I couldn’t tell exactly what he was feeling, but it seemed to go beyond even fury. I ignored his theatrics.

  “I sent her home by the way, and it goes without saying that you’ll be paying for her shift regardless. Double, in fact.” Not that there was any amount of money in the world that could compensate for dealing with my asshat twin. He nodded mutely, clearly lost in his own thoughts, but there was no way I was letting him off the hook that easy.

  “Speaking of which, where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Arlo, are you intentionally obtuse, or are you actually a sociopath for real? Marnie. You remember her, don’t you? The one you were inside when you ruined your chances with the only woman you’ve ever given any kind of a fuck about.”

  “Oh, yeah. She pretty much told me to drop dead and left too.”

  “What exactly did she say?”

  “It was more what I said that was the problem.”

  “Okay. So what did you say?”

  “I told her it was over.”

  What? I’d been telling him to end it with her for almost as long as it had been going on, and he’d resolutely ignored me every time. What was so different now?

  “What? You were literally just fucking her. What did you do, come and then tell her that her services were no longer required? Hell, you might as well have just thrown a couple of hundreds down on the table and really put the nail in the coffin. She’s not a fucking hooker, Arlo. She’s our friend. Or at least she was. I’m pretty sure you’ve stretched the friendship now. In what parallel dimension is that an okay way to treat a stranger, let alone someone you’ve been screwing since high school?” I really didn’t understand how his mind worked, if at all.

  “It wasn’t like that. I’d already told her last night that we were done. She said she wanted to stay over and hang out like we used to when we were kids, and I was okay with that. Then this morning when we came down for coffee, she propositioned me, and stupidly I went with it, even though I knew my heart wasn’t in it.”

  That was as close to an admission of guilt as I’d ever heard from him. Wonders would never cease. I sat down on the opposite side of the table and looked him over. I knew from bitter experience that being in love, or whatever it was that Arlo felt for London, could change people physically, and Arlo looked different somehow. Deflated. Not his usual puffed-up, over-confident self. Still, I wasn’t above kicking a man when he was down, if it would make Arlo wake up and see what a bastard he had been.

  “Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re callous and cruel, Arlo. Sometimes, often in fact, I’m ashamed that we share DNA. Apart from music and business, everything you touch turns to shit. But look, you can’t take that stuff with you when you go, and when you look back on your life, you’ll realize how you fucking wasted it being too much of a bastard for anyone to ever want to be with you.”

  He jumped up from his seat again, fists clenched, looking like he wanted to take me out. I stood my ground. With the ferocity of the anger coursing through my body at that point, I’d like to have seen him try.

  “What are you going to do, beat the shit out of me? What exactly would that fix? You’re wasting your energy being pissed off at me for telling you like it is, while at the same time you’re leaving a trail of destruction behind you. That’s what you should be concerned about, not me. What exactly did you say to Marnie, and how did she seem when she left?” I was sure I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from his own mouth.

  “I pulled out before we were done screwing, so I didn’t come and run like you said. I told her I had real feelings for London. She looked like she wanted to punch me in the dick.”

  I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. Maybe that would have taught him to think before he used it.

  “You really are epically dumb. You know that, right?” I searched his face for recognition, but was met with a blank stare and dead eyes. Then he shrugged, which made me even angrier.

  I wanted to punch him in the dick. When was he going to be held accountable for the havoc he was causing in other people’s lives? Today was a classic example. Not one, but two women had left here in pieces as a result of his heartless actions. He was living up to the reputation he had in the press, and the tattoo across his chest: ‘heartless by name, heartless by nature.’ I rose from the table, excusing myself with the merest of nods. I retreated to my room because I couldn’t even face looking at him anymore. I was done.

  Hours later my phone chirped with the tone of a new message.

  Marnie: Hey, hon, I’m in town. Wanna hang?

  I looked at the phone in disbelief. Obviously, she had no idea I knew what had gone down between her and Arlo earlier.

  Me: Okay. I’m around tonight. What do you feel like doing?

  Marnie: Ummm… nothing special. Maybe a movie?

  Me: Okay, leave it with me. I’ll call you back later and let you know where and when.

  Marnie: Okay. xM

  I wondered whether she was planning on filling me in when we met, or if the idea was to pretend like it never happened. After all these years, the inner workings of Marnie’s mind still confused the hell out of me—almost as much as Arlo’s. I just couldn’t tell what she was thinking most of the time. I knew she must’ve been hurt by what happened between her and Arlo, but then why was she messaging me as though everything was fine and dandy?

  In all the time I’d known her, I felt like she never seemed to fully let her guard down with me, or anybody. It was as though she was always holding something back. I knew for a fact she had secrets she’d never shared with me, or anyone we knew. I wished that after a friendship this long, she’d trusted me enough to let me in, but she never had. Still, whether she was prepared to admit it or discuss it or not, I knew she must have been upset, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that being the case. I made a pact with myself to help lift her spirits that night, whether she opened up to me or not.

  I made some calls, pulling together the plans for the evening. I was kind of excited, kind of nervous. Stupid really, it was just dinner, drinks, and a movie, and Marnie and I were nothing but friends. Somehow it felt a little special, regardless. I smiled to myself, allowing my brain to wander, fantasizing about what lay ahead. So fucking dumb.

  The feelings I had for Marnie had endured since the very first time we met. I had an excuse then, I was just a kid—a ridiculously shy kid who hid behind his brother’s coattails. Now I was a grown man and in one of the world’s most famous bands; I had no justification for being so lame in regards to her. Despite that fact, over t
he years I had come to realize that I still didn’t have any choice. They said that the heart wanted what the heart wanted, and my heart wanted what it always had and probably always would—Marnie.

  The irony of the situation wasn’t wasted on me and never had been. I wanted Marnie, Marnie wanted Arlo, and until recently, Arlo wanted nothing except to live life according to his own rules. Of course, with the unexpected introduction of London into the picture, that had changed. Now, from what I could tell, Arlo wanted London. If she had any sense, London would no longer want anything to do with Arlo, but the heart wanted what the heart wanted, and I suspected that London’s heart wanted Arlo. What a fucking mess.

  I messaged Marnie back with an address, confirming the arrangements.

  Me: Okay, it’s on like Donkey Kong. Be there at 7.

  The ping came straight back.

  Marnie: K, it’s a date.

  If only it was.

  Ten

  Marnie

  I looked back at my handset slightly confused. Why did this kind of feel like a date? It wasn’t, of course. It was Luke. Not that I didn’t want it to be a date. I did, with every fiber of my being, but at the same time, I knew it never could be. Luke was more off-limits to me than the polar ice caps. It was ironic really, as he was right here and always had been. So close, yet so out of reach, he might as well have climbed into a rocket the day we met and flown to Mars.

  Knowing him all these years had been bittersweet, maddening torture. It was like that game we used to play as kids where we tried to eat a whole jelly donut without licking our lips. That deliciously tempting but equally frustrating sensation of the sugar so close, yet totally untouchable reminded me of the way I felt every time I saw Luke. The big difference was that, with the donuts, we knew that sweet relief would be just around the corner. With Luke, it was the total opposite. He was that one itch I was never going to be able to scratch.

  As I often had, I thought back to the day we met. I had arrived at school having been sprung from the clutches of CPS by Mia, my maternal grandmother. Okay, so she hadn’t so much sprung me as applied for and been granted permanent guardianship of me by the court in the face of my parents’ untimely demises.

  The options as far as extended family to care for me had been pretty slim. Weirdly, both parents had been only children, and worse still, my father’s traditional and conservative Vietnamese parents had disowned him when he’d chosen to flunk out of law school in pursuit of his one great love—my mother. The minute he had deviated from the path they had nominated for him when he was a mere wriggler in my grandfather’s ballsack, he had been dead to them. Then he really was dead. Not just to them but to everyone. Especially to me. Irony. It was everywhere.

  My mother’s father had died in a traffic accident when she was a teenager, so that left her mother holding the baby—or in this case, the traumatized, sullen teenager. I had spent weeks in a group home in Michigan while the paperwork was taken care of, and then I was shipped out to New York where Mia lived.

  I would be forever grateful to her for saving my ass, not the least of reasons being that the group home had been an actual living hell. It was a last-chance motel for kids. It felt like the beginning of a downward spiral for everyone who was unfortunate enough to wash up there, staff included. The smell of the place was overpowering and would stay with me always. Just the thought of it gave me the shivers, even as a grown woman—Lysol and the stench of desperation. If it wasn’t for Mia, I dreaded to imagine where I would have ended up or what I would have become.

  Still, relieved though I was to no longer be a ward of the state, with my history, walking into a new school on the other side of the country had been one of the most terrifying things I had ever had to do.

  Principal Campbell had called me into her office, where she and Miss Carlton, the guidance counselor, had explained that they were always ready with a listening ear, and their doors were always open. If I had any issues of any kind, I was welcome to seek them out at any time. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I’d guessed that wasn’t standard procedure for every transferring student but reserved for special cases like me—a potential crazy person with suicide woven into my DNA.

  Miss Carlton left, and the principal went on to explain the school’s buddy system for new kids enrolling at any time other than the start of the new school year. That part at least apparently was standard procedure. I remembered internally rolling my eyes at the thought. Not only was I going to be the new girl, but I was also going to be saddled with some loser nerd for the rest of the semester, if not the year. After all, who else would volunteer to show new kids the ropes but kids who had literally nothing better to do and nobody to do it with? Great. Just peachy. Nothing said social success at school like two dead parents and a geek sidekick. Not.

  As though on cue, the principal stood up and walked to the threshold of her office looking slightly agitated.

  “Nice of you to finally join us, Mr. Jones. Now hurry up, I’m not getting any younger over here.”

  In walked an older boy in all his not-at-all geeky-seeming glory. I remember being awestruck. He looked like something from a teen magazine—a boy band member or young actor. Nothing like what I had been expecting. This kid, who was then introduced to me as Luke Jones, was so cute I could scarcely breathe. It was all I could do not to choke on thin air, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from staring at him as though I had seen a fucking ghost. Clearly sensing that something was up, the principal had snapped her head in my direction.

  To say I was mortified was the understatement of the century. I felt the heat burning through my body and settling in my cheeks. The only saving grace of the situation had been that Luke had seemed even more embarrassed by the whole thing than I was. His entire face and neck had flamed red, right to the tip of his ears, and he was slack-jawed. Not a good look. By his height, I guessed he was a junior.

  I held out my hand and introduced myself. One of us had to take the initiative, and it sure as hell didn’t look like it was going to be him. He returned the gesture and muttered something almost unintelligible. I got the impression that it was some form of greeting. He held onto my hand for way too long to be socially acceptable, as though he shook hands so infrequently that he didn’t realize you had to let go right away. It was then that I’d glanced sideways and saw the tension in his crotch area. Oh, God.

  When the principal handed him my schedule and asked him to show me the way to class, he’d stared at the floor as though his shoelaces held all the secrets of the universe, before huffing and hurriedly leaving the room. Scrambling to my feet and grabbing my backpack, I followed behind.

  Luke had walked ahead, not acknowledging my existence until he came to a stop outside what I had presumed was my classroom. He raised his chin slightly, indicating that I should enter. As I reached out to grip the door handle, he surprised me by questioning me about why I had transferred to the school. I had been ready for questions, but not so soon, and his direct and pointed inquiries after a shy and stuttering start took me completely by surprise. I didn’t want him to know how much he’d thrown me, so I answered as though it was water off a duck’s back, nonchalantly filling him in on my backstory, despite my inner turmoil.

  After spilling my guts about my parents—albeit a fictional version of the events surrounding their deaths, I’d felt at such a disadvantage in our exchange that I put him on the spot about his boner just to even up the balance of power.

  Luke glowed beet red but didn’t say a word. I’d won.

  “Okay, thanks for showing me the way.”

  He nodded but didn’t make eye contact before heading off down the hall again. I noticed that despite his apparent shyness, he’d had the hottest walk of anyone I’d ever met. Until that point, I hadn’t realized a walk could even be hot, but clearly it could because Luke’s was. It was kind of a swagger but not as wannabe gangster as that. I couldn’t even think of quite the right words to describe it, but whatever it was, it made me feel somethin
g I’d never felt for any boy before.

  Then it made me feel like curling up and dying because when he reached the end of the hall, Luke turned to face me, catching me staring at his back with my mouth open. I stumbled backward, in an effort to avoid his gaze, but misstepped and fell through the now open door into the room, attracting the attention of thirty classmates and one of my new teachers. Great. Just great. The one saving grace was that I was pretty sure that Luke had averted his gaze just before I clowned my way into the room. It wasn’t much of a positive, but it was all I had, so I was going to roll with it.

  I’d figured that would be the last I’d see of him. After all, who in their right mind would want to be saddled with a loser dork orphan Annie like me? It came as a huge surprise then, when at the end of Chemistry none other than Luke had been waiting to accompany me to my next class. I had been intentionally hanging back, the last one to leave the room, as I’d been reliving the humiliation both of being caught staring at Luke like a weirdo stalker and of falling into class like a lame clown. Still, there he was, waiting. He nodded without a word, then strode off down the hall, back the way we’d come earlier.

  I’d hesitated for a moment, worrying I’d misunderstood his intention and was going to look like I was following him around the school like a stray dog. After a few moments, he stopped, looked my way, though not directly at me, and waited like I was an errant puppy, rather than a lost one. Taking my cue, I walked toward him and then fell into step slightly behind him. He did nothing further to acknowledge me, just navigated the school corridors with purpose. This silent double act had continued throughout the day, broken up by lunch, when sure enough, there he was waiting outside my class. I’d figured we had lunch in different periods.

  “Uh… I have lunch now, so…,” I addressed the floor.

  Luke mumbled something I didn’t hear against the backdrop of one thousand other kids changing class.