Taste: Beautiful Series, Book 6

by Anderson, Lilliana

  I open the book and read until my throat feels hoarse. I’m not sure at what point Riley falls asleep, because I put all of my attention into the pages of the story, anything to stop myself from thinking about my altercation with Brad. And when I finally stop reading, I lay quietly for a while with my son, wondering if it’s a good thing that he called when he did. Telling Brad now wouldn’t make any difference. What’s done is done. I can’t change that.

  * * *

  Brad

  “Oh god, Ruby.”

  “Can I come in?” She struggles to speak around her swollen lip. I’m horrified by the damage she seems to have sustained to her face and move to the side, ushering her in and quickly checking the outside hall on my floor to make sure no one is there following her.

  “Do you need a doctor?”

  She shakes her head, moving toward my kitchen as though she’s aching. “I just need ice and some pain killers. Maybe something to drink.”

  I race to the freezer and pull out a tray of ice cubes then dump them into a tea towel before holding it up to her face. I pause, not sure whether I should place it at her eye or her mouth.

  “Thanks,” she says, taking it from me and placing it over her left eye. It’s completely swollen shut.

  “Who did this to you?” I ask, grabbing some paper towel and running it under the water to dab at the small trail of blood that’s coming from her split lip.

  “Tony,” she states, her one good eye looking up at me and filling with tears that spill down her cheek. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  Wiping away her tears with the soft damp paper towel, I furrow my brow at her response. “You haven’t done anything wrong. There is nothing in this world that can excuse this kind of behaviour.”

  Continuing to cry quietly, she nods and turns her head away from me. I give her a moment to collect herself and move to get her some Nurofen from the cupboard above my fridge, as well as a bottle of water.

  She takes them with thanks then holds up the water. “Do you have anything stronger than this?”

  “Of course I do,” I answer softly. “What would you like? I have wine. I have bourbon, whisky, vodka, brandy—pretty much anything you can think of really.”

  “Vodka would be perfect. With soda if you have it.”

  “Of course.” I move over to the bar between my kitchen and my living room, and I fix her a drink before returning it to where she stands in the kitchen, surveying the multitude of prepared dishes.

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  “No. Just experimenting.” I hand her the glass and she takes it, wincing a little when the sting of the alcohol touches her swollen lip.

  “It’ll kill the germs,” she comments, glancing at me with her good eye, as she continues to hold the ice against her other. I stand by quietly, as she spends a few moments, walking around my kitchen, surveying my many creations for the evening, while sipping her drink and wincing each time.

  She stops at one dish and leans down, inspecting it closely. “What’s this?”

  “Foie Gras Cassis.”

  “Foie Gras? You had Foie Gras in your kitchen?”

  “You don’t?” I respond with a smile.

  “What’s that under it?”

  “It’s apple. They’ve been caramelised, placed on toasted brioche, and the sauce is sour blackcurrants.”

  “Sour blackcurrants?” She looks back up at me. “May I?”

  “Of course,” I say, opening a drawer and giving her a fork. She places her drink on the benchtop and presses the fork into the neatly piled food to cut off a small mouthful. She struggles a little to get it in her mouth, but once it hits her tongue, I know, because she closes her other eye and just experiences the flavour.

  “Oh my god,” she moans. “That was amazing. Will you be putting it in the next menu?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just trying out flavours at the moment. Feel free to try anything out.”

  She moves around the kitchen, taste testing as many dishes as she can before she cups her hand to her mouth and shakes her head. I can tell she’s in pain from her lip.

  “We need to call the police about this, Ruby. You need to report it.”

  Taking another sip of her vodka soda, she shakes her head. “Can we not talk about it just yet? I kind of want to forget it ever happened and pretend that I’m not standing in your kitchen with a beat up face. Talk to me about the food. Tell me what inspired each dish.”

  Feeling uneasy about dropping the subject, I let it go, deciding that I’ll press her for more information later. Then I spend the next few hours explaining all that I’ve made, and the reasons for my choices. She listens intently, and eventually I offer to make up a bed for her so she has somewhere safe to stay.

  “Thanks for letting me stay,” she whispers, as I bring her a towel and one of my t-shirts so she can shower and change if she likes.

  I nod and point to the ensuite door off her room. “You can stay as long as you need to. It’s what friends are for.” I kiss her on the forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll be just across the hall if you need me.”

  She thanks me again, and I exit her room, promising myself that I’ll convince her to go to the police in the morning. That douchebag boyfriend of hers needs to go down for this. Real men don’t hit women. He can’t get away with this.

  Fifteen

  Dakota

  The morning after the reunion, I approach Brad’s apartment with nerves twisting my belly. It’s taken an entire night of not sleeping to decide this, but I do feel it’s time to explain what happened, why I suddenly disappeared from his life. I couldn’t stand the hurt look on his face when Stacey said Riley was on the phone for me. At the time, I hadn’t wanted him to know about Riley at all. But after going home to my son and spending a creepy amount of time watching him sleep, I knew that despite the circumstances surrounding his conception, he was my proudest achievement. I shouldn’t be hiding his existence. He’s far too important to me for that.

  Closing my eyes for a beat, I take a deep breath before raising my hand to knock. Silence comes back to me. So for a moment, I don’t think he’s home. Then I hear the sounds of feet on the flooring, and the scraping of the deadbolt before the door opens and I’m confronted with an unexpected sight.

  I frown. A woman with a a bruised face is standing before me, peering at me questioningly with her one good eye. She's tiny, with flame red hair and a fine-boned stature—kind of like if you crossed Ariel the mermaid with Audrey Hepburn, you'd get this woman. She's pretty, and I mean, really pretty. Even with a swollen face, she's intimidatingly pretty.

  I take a step backward.

  “Can I help you?” she asks.

  My mouth opens and I shake my head. I must have the wrong apartment. “I, um… I’m looking for Brad. Are…are you OK?”

  “Oh,” she says. “My face.” She reaches up and touches it gingerly. “Don’t worry. Brad isn’t responsible. I’m actually a female cage fighter. I got these puppies in the ring.”

  She holds up her fists and jabs at the air. It’s then that I take in her attire—a man’s shirt. I close my eyes, feeling as though I’m in an all too familiar situation. I’m fifteen all over again, interested in a man who is too busy with every other woman in town because he's too old for me.

  “I’ve obviously come at a bad time. I’ll…I’ll just…” I point over my shoulder and back away, ready to make my way to the stairwell. But not before Brad walks into my line of sight wearing a pair of track pants and nothing else. Well, besides a few tattoos I haven’t seen before. He’s towelling off his dark hair, looking as though he just stepped out of the shower.

  My eyes move between them, and all of a sudden I feel sick.

  I mumble something about being late then turn to walk away, thoroughly regretting thinking that maybe Brad was still interested in clearing the air and maybe starting fresh with me after all these years. I thought I felt something when he took me by the hand last night. But I guess
I was wrong. I obviously burned that bridge long ago, and I’m never going to get the chance to fix it.

  “Cody?” I hear, just as I reach the top of the stairs. I turn back and see Brad just outside his door, staring down the hall toward me.

  Hesitating, I move forward to leave then backward to stay, several times. Eventually deciding to stand and face him.

  I raise my hand and wave like a gimp.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Behind him, the girl from the door is looking on with interest.

  I shake my head. “I was…um…I was just dropping by to let you know that… um… that my dad really appreciated you donating to the auction. He wished he had the chance to talk to you, but you left so suddenly, and…um… yeah. That’s all.”

  He furrows his brow. “You came all the way into the city just to tell me that?”

  I shrug and place my hand on the wall, moving my finger as I focus on a small paint chip. “I was in the neighbourhood, so…”

  “I see. And how did you get my address?”

  “What is this? Twenty questions?” I attempt a laugh. But, when I look at him, he isn’t smiling. I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Elliot. He gave it to me.”

  “I see.”

  “But I’m leaving. You’re obviously busy here.” I point to the girl, and as he looks over his shoulder, she quickly withdraws from view. I take the opportunity to leave, rushing down the stairs as fast as I can. I shouldn’t have come here.

  * * *

  Brad

  “Who was that?” Ruby asks, as I head back inside. I move about the kitchen, setting up the coffee machine for a morning pick me up.

  “Just someone I used to know,” I say quietly, reaching up to take a couple of mugs down. I hold one out to her, and she nods.

  “An old girlfriend?”

  I shake my head. “No. We never got to that point.”

  “That’s a shame. She’s pretty.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I dismiss the conversation by asking her about going to the police.

  “Do I have to? I mean, can’t I just end things with him and pretend none of this ever happened?”

  “Sure. If you think it’s all right for him to beat on some other girl or better still, stalk you and obsess over you until you give in and go back to him. I think that’s definitely the better plan of action.”

  She lets out a sigh. “OK. I get it. I’ll go to the cops. I’ll report him.”

  I glance at her over my shoulder. “Good. And if you need it, the spare room is available for you until you feel safe going back to your place.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes I do. You can’t go back to your place on your own until we’re sure this guy is going to leave you alone.”

  “Won’t I be in your way? I mean, what if that pretty blast from your past wants to rekindle something? She seemed a little upset to see me here.”

  “She did? I don’t understand why. She’s got some guy called Riley in her life now. No. Things between Dakota, and me are well and truly in the past.”

  Sixteen

  Dakota

  “You’re back early. Did you even go and see him?” Stacey asks when I get back home. Hanging my bag on the back of a dining room chair, I kiss Riley on the top of his blond head and go to sit next to her.

  I put my head in my hands. “I did. And he was with someone, so…” I shake my head, trying to ignore the stinging that’s threatening behind my eyes.

  “Oh, Cody…” she says, placing her hand on the centre of my back.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine, really. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen. I was being stupid.”

  “Going after a guy you’ve loved for most of your life isn’t stupid. It’s brave as fuck. And if he’s not married, I think you should try again. Who cares if he has some fuck buddy?”

  “Stacey!” I say, cutting my eyes in the direction of my son.

  She covers her mouth and produces a muffled apology from behind her hand.

  I look at Riley who seems to be too engrossed in watching Adventure Time to have noticed Stacey’s slip up.

  “And who’s to say she’s his… friend with benefits?” I whisper, trying to keep my voice down.

  Stacey shrugs. “When have you ever known Brad to have a serious relationship?”

  “Things might be different now. Things could be serious between them.”

  “There’s nothing on his Facebook profile about a girlfriend.” She pulls out her phone and begins scrolling through.

  “You’re friends with him on Facebook?”

  I reach out and snatch her phone from her hands and begin looking for myself.

  “Of course I am. You probably would be too if you set up an account.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to be on Facebook. There’s too many voyeurs out there,” I say, as I greedily absorb every post he’s put up recently.

  Stacey chuckles at me. “Yes. There are, aren’t they.”

  I glance up, realising that she’s talking about me. “Oh, shoosh. It’s not like I do this all the time.”

  His feed is mainly pictures of food, and the people at the restaurant he works at. There are a few he’s been tagged in of some band he went and saw called Matiari. I spot Elliot and his wife, Paige, in the group photos, and there’s one where he’s talking to a gorgeous blonde girl who is tagged as Sandra Haegan. Curious, I click on her name, but her profile is set to private. Although, there a couple of public pictures that show her standing with this really well known actor, Jonathan Masters.

  “Well, she’s no threat,” I mutter to myself, feeling kind of impressed that Brad knows people attached to someone as famous as that. When I go back to the photos on his timeline, I see that he’s also pictured with Marcus Bailey, who is one of my favourite musicians and his wife, Leisel. “How the hell does he know all these people?”

  “Who?” Stacey asks, leaning forward to peer at the screen on her iPhone. I show her the photos of him standing with a group of beautiful people. “He8s a celebrity chef, so he probably cooked for them or something. Or maybe it’s Elliot who knows them. He’s there too. He might be their personal trainer or something. I don’t know.”

  Curious about how much his life has changed since he was mine for that brief moment, I continue to flick through his photos. Eventually I come across a picture of him standing with a girl, who I feel sure is the one who answered his door, although I can’t be positive because of the bruises and the swelling.

  “I think this is the girl he was with,” I tell her, and she studies the image, waving it off as unimportant.

  “Looks like she’s just some girl he works with.”

  I frown at their image; they’re standing with their arm around each other, smiling as they hold a plate with some fancy looking food on it between them.

  “She said she was a professional fighter. Her face was all bruised.”

  “Bruised? You don’t think… I mean, Brad would never. Right?”

  “No. I couldn’t imagine he would.” The only time I’ve ever heard of him actually fighting was with another guy, and from what I was told, it was because that guy was saying something really crude about me. “He’d fight a guy to protect a girl. But he’d never hurt one.”

  Stacey takes the phone from me and taps at the screen, swiping her finger across it, as she makes interested noises and nods.

  “What?” I ask.

  “He must be protecting her.”

  “From what?”

  “From this guy. He looks rough.”

  She shows me a photo of the girl. Her name is Ruby Garvan, and she’s kissing a really rough looking guy covered in random tattoos and piercings. I know Brad used to have piercings, and he has both of his arms sleeved now, but this guy isn’t like that. His tatts remind me of gangs and prison. He looks like the kind of guy you’d run away from in a dark alley. I wonder why a girl like Ruby is, or hopefully, was, going out with a guy l
ike that.

  “He gives me the creeps.” A shudder rolls down my spine. I can’t see his face, but something about the look of him really gets to me. I hand back the phone.

  “Me too, but at least this means she’s not his fu— I mean, friend with benefits.”

  * * *

  Brad

  After hours at the police station, a report has been filed against Tony Ryder, and we’re hoping the he’ll be picked up sometime in the next twenty-four hours, so Ruby at least feels safe enough for us to go back to her place and pick up some clothes.

  While we wait for the call to let us know he’s been taken in, I ask her how she managed to get mixed up with a guy who treated her like that.

  “I don’t know. I was out with friends when I met him, and we got talking. He was one of those guys who made this decision that we were going to be together. And there was something about the way he was so sure I was the answer to all of his prayers that really sucked me in. But then…”

  I wait quietly as she obviously runs through some of her memories of their time together, how something that was so good to begin with, suddenly went very bad.

  “Then he started to become really demanding and bossy. He tried to tell me what I could and couldn’t do, and where I should be and shouldn’t be. He basically took over my entire life, and when he started to say that I couldn’t work at Quay anymore, we started fighting. I don’t know what his problem was. I think it was because the restaurant is so exclusive that he couldn’t get in there to check up on me. And he hated not knowing where I was and what I was doing. So, eventually, the fighting got worse and worse until…” She lifts her hand and points to her face.

  “Please tell me that you’ll never go back to him. This kind of thing only gets worse as time goes on. You can’t risk yourself by trusting that he’ll change.”