Love, Hate & Us

by S. P. West

  “Thanks, Mom.” Sarcasm drips from her tone. “But there really is no need to worry. Everything is above board. Orange just isn’t my color.”

  “Ho…”

  “You aren’t in sleepy little Emmerton anymore, Brooke. The cozy, little life you had is gone. Dead. If you want to go back, then be prepared to be humiliated some more by the people who were supposed to love and protect you. Do me a favor and watch your back, because I guarantee that you’ll be seen as a joke by people who you thought were your friends. I won’t stop you, if that’s what you want.” Hope perches herself on the corner of the large desk and sighs. “Or you can take a chance and see what life has to offer here. Stop questioning everything. Jake and the guys want to help you. It’s what they do, help the people who need helping, save the people that need saving. I trust them with my life. These guys saved me, Brooke. They picked me up when I was down, they dusted me off, helped me find a home, and gave me a job. They’re the good guys, but I’m warning you now, they won’t appreciate you sticking your nose in their business. If the guys want you to know, you’ll know.”

  “Know what?” We both let out a little shriek at the sound of Jake’s voice. I turn to see him leaning against the door. I hadn’t heard him come in.

  “Jake!” Hope looks like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to hear you defend my honor.” He gives me a shit eating grin as he walks past and takes a seat behind the desk. “So, Brooke, like Hope told you, what we do is one hundred percent legal. That’s all you need to know right now. As for how I can afford this shit”—he leans back in the chair, placing his feet on the desk—“I came into some money and I like art.”

  Hope tries to muffle her laughter.

  “I can see.” I look at the tattoos that adorn his arms, then up at his face. He’s changed his clothes since we got out of the car, now wearing a dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, and a vest. “Is that what you’re wearing for tonight? Very Christian Grey. What do you do? Have a bed on stage, tie your victim to it, and whip the shit out of her?”

  “Believe me, the women we have on stage are anything but victims.” Jake’s smile is warm. “I like the idea though. I don’t think we’ve done a Fifty Shades routine.” He looks at Hope. “Why haven’t we ever done one?” Hope makes a face and shrugs. “Could you start working on something for the guys? Have a talk with Zane or Niall, see if they have any ideas. In fact go do that now. Brooke will be safe here with me.”

  “You okay with that, Brooke? I won’t be too long.”

  “Yes.” I hear myself say, which is exactly the opposite of what I’m thinking.

  “Cool.” She flashes me a grin and disappears through the door.

  “Soooo.” I look back to Jake and see that he’s now perched on the same corner of the desk as Hope was a few moments ago. “Now I have you all alone.” His tone is low, seductive. His eyes are full of heat. I start walking backward in the direction of the door.

  “Uh…Umm…I…”

  “Where are you going?” he asks, stalking toward me.

  “To find Hope.” As my back hits the door, I start to fumble around for the handle. Why can’t I find the handle?

  “I’ll ask again. Where do you think you’re going?” I cringe as Jake places his arms on either side of my head, boxing me in. For a moment I’m lost in his deep blue eyes, paralyzed with inaction. I feel a maelstrom of emotions—fear, loathing…longing? He seems to sense my confusion, using it to his advantage as he leans forward as if to kiss me, which brings me to my senses.

  “Not so fast, buddy.” I put my hand on his face, pushing him back as I duck out from under his arms and move as far away from him as possible. Jake remains in the same position with his head down. “I don’t know what you think you were doing, but whatever it was, I’m not interested.” I seethe. “I’ve just broken up with my fiancé, not my choice by the way, and the last thing I want to do is make a mistake by jumping into bed with the first guy who shows me some attention. That’s not who I am. Now, I’m hurting, Jake, I’m hurting real bad. I’ve left behind my whole life, and what I can do with is a friend right now. Hope said that I can trust you, but from your actions just now, I’m not sure that I can.” Jake doesn’t respond to my words, instead he stays standing in the same position as when he tried to kiss me. Well now I have my answer—Hope was wrong, Jake’s an asshole, and I’ve had my fill of them. “You know what? I think I made a mistake coming here. It was nice to have met you. Now please, move out of my way.”

  “Good.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, good.”

  “Am I missing something here? What’s good? The fact that you tried to kiss me and I turned you down, or that I gave you a big, long speech and not once did you have the decency to look at me?”

  Jake pushes himself upright, turns and stalks past me.

  “Do you want a beer or something?” he asks, opening up a cupboard door beneath the coffee machine to reveal a fully stocked refrigerator. “Or I have water, wine, cola, juice, some girly cocktail shit that your sister likes…”

  “What?”

  “I’ll put it in simple terms. Do you want a drink?”

  “Are you crazy? I just told you…You just tried to…”

  “Beer it is,” he says, grabbing a hold of two bottles, and placing one in front of me before he sits down at his desk and opens his.

  “I’m just going to go,” I say, ignoring the beer and heading straight to the door.

  “I’m not by the way.”

  “Huh?” My hand stills on the door knob, and I twist my body so that I’m facing him.

  “Not crazy. We’ll maybe a little bit.” Jake shrugs before taking a long draw of his beer.

  “You are not making any sense right now, and I’m going.” I grimace.

  “Wait. Please.”

  “Look, Jake, I don’t know you from Adam. I don’t owe you anything. I’m confused as hell and, to be honest, just a tiny bit freaked out right now.”

  He puts the bottle down on the desk and leans back in his chair. His dark blue eyes travel over my body. “Brooke, I’m not going to tell you that I’m not interested, because that would be a lie, but you’re vulnerable right now...”

  “You just tried to kiss me!”

  “Look, I know the feeling is mutual, but I just don’t do rebound flings. Sorry, babe.”

  “B—”

  “I know…I know. Don’t take it too personally. Maybe we can hook up in the future.”

  “You can go fuck yourself, you…you psycho.” I rage as I press down the handle.

  “Now, now, that’s no way to speak to your new boss.”

  “You’re unbelievable!”

  “No, I’m your boss,” he states calmly, while I seethe with rage.

  “I don’t remember agreeing to work for you, asshat.”

  “That’s one strike right there.”

  “And I don’t find you attractive, you narcissistic bastard…”

  “Strike two.” While his tone is bored, his face is smug. “Be aware that we operate a three strikes and you’re out policy here.” His smug smile grows bigger as he leans further back in his chair, placing his feet on his desk.

  I’m seriously wondering if it’ll be worth the jail time just to wipe that smile off the douchebag’s face.

  “But,” he says, placing both hands behind his head, “I’m willing to let you off with a warning this time.”

  “I. Don’t. Work. For. You. Douchenozzle.” I grind out through gritted teeth.

  “You do as of”—he takes his feet off the table and leans forward on the desk—“now. You see I need people I can trust to work for me. I also need people who won’t put up with my bullshit, and I need someone who doesn’t want to jump into bed with me. Do you know how hard it is to find someone like that?” I’m too stunned to answer. “I mean look at me. Anyway, you passed the test. Congratulatio
ns. Welcome aboard. You’re hired.”

  “What if I don’t want to work for you?”

  “You will. I’m a good boss, pay well, and you get all your benefits paid. I’ll find an apartment in the complex for you, that’ll come with the job.”

  “Hang on. How can you afford that? From what I’ve seen, those apartments looked pretty pricy to me.”

  “I own the apartment complex, all my employees live there. Officially I have a house in the swanky part of town.” He flashes me a brilliant smile. “I have a lot of money, Brooke. A lot of money, so you won’t need to worry about anything. I’m willing to offer you all that, if you come and work for me doing bookkeeping and shit. Hope told me you can do that stuff.”

  “You could hire an accountant.”

  “Nah, I’ve already got a few of those. I want you to work on my charity projects.”

  “Like the Derek Zoolander School for Kids Who Can’t Read Good?”

  “Snarky and feisty. I knew I’d like you. Plus admit it, you think I’m totally hot.”

  “I think you’re an idiot.”

  “So what do you say?” he says, ignoring my comment.

  “I suppose I could work for you for a while.”

  “Excellent.” Jake claps his hands together and springs to his feet. “Let me show you around the place.” He puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me out of his office. “You know, I think this might be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “I’ve made you forget about the shit in your life though, haven’t I?”

  He’s right. I’ve not once thought of Brody.

  Brody

  “Christ, it smells like something died in here. Dad? You here?” I get no response, just a deafening silence. “Dad?” I yell again. “Where are you?”

  I carefully step over the piles of dirty clothes and other detritus that litters the floor, taking great care not to disturb the new life forms growing in the take-out cartons filled with rotting food. My nose is buried in the crook of my arm as I try not to breathe in the toxic air, while I pick a path through the dump that my formerly spotless childhood home has become.

  I eventually find my father passed out, face down in his bed, holding a picture of him and my mom on their wedding day. There’s an empty bottle of whiskey next to his head and an open bottle of pills of some kind.

  “Dad! Jesus Christ. Dad? What the fuck have you done?”

  I grab a hold of my old man, turning him so that he’s lying on his back. To my relief, he lets out a loud moan.

  “Leave me alone,” he says, batting my hand away. “Just leave me to die.”

  “How many have you taken, Dad?”

  “Not enough. Now get lost.”

  Ignoring him, I pick up the empty pill bottle. “I don’t think you’ll get far overdosing on antacids, Dad. Maybe the toilet.”

  My father opens one gray eye to look at me. “I thought it’d be easier for your mom if I ended it. Can’t even do that right.”

  “Come on,” I say, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “Just leave me here, Son.”

  “To do what?”

  “Die.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “I miss your mom.”

  “I know, Dad.” I put my dad’s arm around my shoulder, and lead him to the bathroom where I help him undress before dumping him in the shower. He starts to cry as I turn the water on. Great, heaving sobs that leave my once proud, strong father curled up in a ball as the water washes over him.

  To say the last eight months have been bad is an understatement. Everything, everything, has changed for the worse. That happy life that I knew and loved is gone. My parents’ marriage is over. My business is not doing well. All because of one person…Joely. I wish that I’d never laid eyes on her. I’m being unfair. If I wasn’t such a jerk to Brooke, then she’d still be here. Joely wasn’t the one who hurt her, that was all me. I could have said no. That doesn’t change the fact that Brooke has disappeared. I have no clue where she is or what she’s up to. It’s driving me crazy that for the first time in forever I’m not part of Brooke’s life.

  I’ve kicked myself every day since she left. I can’t believe I acted like such a douche to her. What guy in their right mind lets their perfect woman go? Me, evidently, and my father and my brother. We’re cursed men. Motherfucking cursed to fuck up the best things in our lives.

  “Could you pass me a towel?”

  Shit! I completely forgot about Dad.

  “Sure.” He doesn’t say anything to me as I hand it to him; he doesn’t even look at me. He’s a sad sight to see. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this broken. Not even when Cade cried in my arms over that trouble he got himself into, or me standing in front of my mirror every day. My father looks how I feel, like my heart and soul have been ripped from my body. I’m not familiar with this shell that my dad has become. I’m used to someone as strong and healthy as an ox, someone who’d laugh easily, someone who cared. I look at my dad now and see clothes hanging off his six foot frame; his face is drawn and gaunt, sunken.

  I’m sure if I didn’t come and check on him every couple of days, he would lie in his bed drinking himself to death. He’s been suspended from his job as a deputy, so he hasn’t even got a job to keep him going.

  Fucking Joely.

  Why couldn’t Dad have just kept it in his pants for Christ’s sake? Then I wouldn’t have to be dealing with another shitstorm in my already very shitty life. I don’t blame Mom for leaving, not after she found out that Dad had been paying Joely to keep her quiet over their little fuckfest a few years back, and not after she discovered that Dad could be the father of Joely’s kid.

  My parents have been together forever. Childhood sweethearts. They were supposed to live happily ever after. Not this…this wasn’t meant to happen to them.

  Like me and Brooke.

  Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, does it?

  “You can leave me, you know. You don’t have to hover. Go do some work or something,” Dad says, throwing the dirty towel on the even dirtier floor.

  “Got nothing better to do than spend time with my dear old dad.” I try to smile but can’t quite manage it.

  “Bullshit. You’ve got plenty better things to do than spend time with your good-for-nothing old man.”

  “No, I don’t. Not when my old man tries offing himself with booze and antacids.”

  “Don’t waste your time, Brody. I’m a lost cause.”

  “I’ve taken the day off now.”

  “You sure you can afford that?”

  “I figure that you’re more important.”

  He grunts in response and walks unsteadily to his bedroom. I follow behind, making sure that he doesn’t fall.

  “I thought we could spend some time fixing the place up a bit,” I say, cringing as I look around. “It’s disgusting in here.”

  “Don’t bother,” Dad says weakly as he pulls on a cleanish sweater. “There’s no point.”

  “Dad. Nothing will change if you stay festering in this garbage pile feeling sorry for yourself. How will you get Mom back if you continue as you are? She’s not going to come back if you make no effort to show her that you’re sorry.”

  “I am sorry!”

  “Have you told Mom that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And meant it?”

  “Of course I fucking meant it.” He slams both his hands against the closet door. “She won’t listen.”

  “Do you blame her?” I say, folding my arms across my chest, the McAllister Construction logo emblazoned on the tee that I threw on this morning when Mom called me in a panic because she hadn’t heard from Dad since last night. “If I was in Mom’s position…”

  “Like you can talk.” Dad spits at me viciously before he topples backward on to the bed. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at his comical attempts to pull on his pants. He won’t let me help hi
m, the last time I tried, he waved me away then ended up going to bed again as it was too much of an effort for him. “You sent Brooke running. Don’t see you telling her that you’re sorry.”

  “That’s because I can’t find her.” I growl.

  “Bullshit. You could find her if you wanted to. Just ask Caden to hire a P.I.”

  “He did. They found nothing.”

  “Obviously didn’t look hard enough.”

  “What do you want, Dad?” I run my hands over my face in frustration at my pig-headed father. He opens his mouth to speak but I interrupt him. “And don’t say to die. You know, you’re a selfish bastard. No wonder Mom left you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No. Fuck you. What have you done since Mom left you, huh? What have you done to improve yourself, to make Mom believe that you won’t hurt her again?” I chuck a sneaker at his head, luckily for him I miss. “Come on tell me? What have you done?”

  “Screw you.”

  “You’ve done nothing, Dad. Zilch, nada, nothing, except drink yourself into a stupor each night because you are too scared to lose face. You are willing to lose your wife of thirty years rather than get down on your knees and crawl through a bed of nails to get her back because it’s too much effort. Isn’t she worth it? All that unconditional love that she’s given you through the years, all that loyalty. Why wasn’t that enough? What did Mom do that was so wrong that you had to throw all that love back in her face by screwing someone else behind her back?” My words resonate to my own situation, each driving a knife further into my heart. “Look at you,” I continue, “just look at you. You’re a mess, a joke. You’ve done nothing to prove to Mom that you’re truly sorry. You’ve just sat here, rotting away, throwing tantrums because you haven’t gotten your own way.” Dad remains silent but I know he’s heard me because I can see tears forming in his eyes.