Unexplainable

by Amity Cross

  Taking the suitcase, he gave me a curt nod. Leading me into a dark conference room, he peered out into the corridor behind us, before closing the door.

  "West?" he asked, a frown creasing his forehead.

  "He got high last night."

  "Fuck," he cursed and went to open the door.

  "I'm not done with you," I spat, grabbing his forearm. "I just walked in on him being sucked off by another woman and I think you know me well enough to understand what I might do."

  "What are you saying, Blair?" His voice was calm, but his eyes said otherwise. He thought I was unpredictable and good on him for having more than two brain cells to rub together.

  "I'm angry enough that I'm considering going to the papers." I glared at him. "I'm also on to you and I cannot believe you would gamble your friend's life and career the way you did. You're a cold hearted asshole and I hope you pay, Furlough. I hope you OD on a bathroom floor and see how the fuck you like it."

  He narrowed his eyes at me and didn't say anything, which was all the proof I needed. I was so fucking right, but what hurt the most was that West didn't know any of it. He didn't know and had gone out and fucked himself over all on his own.

  "What do you want?" Furlough asked, his shoulders sagging like he'd done this before. Paid people off for their silence. "How much?"

  "How much does silence from a jilted, manipulated lover go for these days?"

  "It's not like him, you know. I truly believe you were the one..."

  "Give me the money, Furlough," I hissed. "I haven't got time for your games. You won. Congratu-fucking-lations, asswipe. I've got nowhere to go because of him and I gave up the pittance I had to be here. He owes me that much at least. You owe me that much."

  Furlough seemed to admit defeat, or was it victory, and his whole posture changed. "You'll have to sign a non-disclosure."

  "Give me the money and I'll sign whatever you want. All I want is to get away from here as fast as I can."

  Hurt. Betrayal. Anger. I felt all of these things right now and maybe I was taking the easy way out by leaving, maybe I was letting West down by leaving him to face his relapse alone, face his manipulative asshole of a manager, but I had my own issues and with all of this? I wasn't strong enough to deal with my own past, so taking on someone else's turd of a life was too much.

  As I followed Furlough through the hotel to the Business Centre so he could print his precious nondisclosure, all I could think about was what I was going to do next. If I had a plan, I could focus on that and not think about that other thing. Another woman's lips around West's cock. Something that was mine.

  I was going with Plan A. If one thing my deadbeat father gave to me was dual citizenship. His daddy was a Brit and he had a British Passport, which meant I was eligible. After they'd died, I filled out all the forms and sent them off with dreams of leaving Australia and all that pain behind. I could just stay here and never leave. West would believe I went back to Australia and never think to find me here. No one would, unless they went digging and that would take time. I doubted anyone would want to in the first place.

  I could make the new life that I'd dreamed about. I had to understand that I was well and truly a one woman show and that's the way it was staying. I'd had enough pain to last a couple of lifetimes and I was done being someone else's emotional punching bag. I had to start caring about me and me alone. I was the only person left in this world I could count on.

  Jake West and Dean Furlough could asphyxiate on their own vomit for all I cared.

  I stared out the window at the blue skies over Rome. It was going to be clear and hot, a beautiful Italian summers day, but all I felt was empty.

  Blair was gone. She was gone for good and it was all my fault.

  Despite going to rehab, despite Furlough's constant badgering, despite Blair herself…I still didn't want to change. I knew now that I'd been focusing on our sexual relationship. For me that had been our connection, it wasn't love at all. I'd tried to turn it into something more, I wanted something more, but I'd done it all the wrong way. I didn't love Blair when I asked her to come on tour. I didn't love Blair when she finally trusted me to fuck her bare. I didn't love her when I saw her drinking at that hotel bar with Joe. I only loved her when I thought she'd walked out and that made me the biggest fucking prick out there.

  I'd destroyed myself, but worst of all, I'd destroyed her.

  It was time to grow the fuck up and be a fucking man, not the weak, desperate piece of shit I'd been for the last seven months.

  "West?"

  I turned to find Furlough hovering behind me, glancing around at the remains of my epic downfall. I didn't have it in me to speak, so I just waited.

  "She got on a plane an hour ago," he said.

  I didn't wonder how he knew-he probably still had access to the credit card that I'd gotten him to give her. Come to think of it, Furlough had access to a lot of information. He never liked Blair that much...

  "I'm concerned she'll go back on her word," he added when I still didn't say anything.

  "She won't."

  Furlough grimaced.

  "I think she said she was going to rip my dick off and choke me with it. And believe me, I was taking that literally."

  "Blair seemed to be the kind of woman to back up her words with actions."

  "I don't blame her," I said, running my hands over my face. I didn't give a fuck about the money. Hell, I didn't give a fuck if she told the entire world my dirty secrets...what I'd done to her was worse. She'd given up everything to be with me. Blair's life had been a pretty crap one. Before and after her parents had died, but I wondered if I had hurt her the most of all. "Did she say where she was going?"

  Furlough shook his head. "No, she signed a nondisclosure and the moment the money showed on her card, she left like a bat out of hell. The records on the card say she purchased a ticket for today, not where to."

  I ran my hands over my face, trying to think where she could've gone from here. Back to London? Melbourne, via Dubai? Wildcat.

  "Look, it's probably a good thing," Furlough continued. "The press were focusing on your relationship too much. The tour was suffering because of it."

  The tour was suffering…it finally hit home. I'd fucked up all by myself, but not without a little help on the way. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he had a pretty sweet deal working for us. We were lenient as long as shit got done and we paid well for the convenience. At the end of the day I was Furlough's cash cow. Blair was making the dollars trickle instead of flow. He never cared about me or the band-all he cared about was his wallet.

  "Do you really think I was born yesterday?" I snarled. There was no way I was calming down now, not after I'd lost everything.

  He gave me a look that was half 'concerned manager', half panic.

  "You would really gamble my sobriety to destroy her?"

  "West."

  "You fucking knew I'd react this way and you did nothing to stop it. You did nothing to stop Blair from leaving." The look on his face said it all and fuck did I know Dean Furlough. If I hadn't been so far up my own ass, I would've seen it before now. The hotels we'd been staying at were expensive inner city numbers. Big dollars. "You were the one fucking Evie, weren't you?"

  "I don't fuck groupies," he said, his voice lowering in warning.

  "Not unless they can do something you want."

  "What I want," Furlough snarled, "is for this tour to go on without a hitch. The tour and the band are what I care about, West."

  "And there we fucking have it," I spat, getting up in his face. "You don't give a fuck about anybody's wellbeing but your own. You only give a fuck about the money. The money we lined your pockets with."

  "I'm here to run a business, not to be a fucking babysitter to a bunch of childish fucking rock stars."

  Blind fury was threatening to take me and it was all I could do to hold myself back and not kick the shit through the fucker. All of a sudden, everything just dump
ed right on top of me. Furlough hadn't cared when he found me on that bathroom floor. If I died, there went his cushy job that had been lining his pockets with solid gold. If the band suffered from the fallout of my drug problems, his account balance would suffer. Blair's presence had whipped the paparazzi into a frenzy, taking the spotlight off the tour. He saw what Blair was doing to me behind the scenes, taking me away from the parties and the business opportunities, commanding my attention. He wanted her gone because he saw her as a threat.

  Fucking cunt.

  I grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him close, trying to find it in myself to stop. That's when the door opened and Joe strode in, pulling me off Furlough.

  "West, don't even fucking think about it," he said, shoving Furlough away and putting himself in the firing line. "The fucks not worth it."

  "What-" I began, but my best mate held a hand up to stop me.

  "Blair called me." My eyes widened. "She told me everything." He turned to face Furlough and jabbed a finger at him. "And she told me about you. You're so fucking fired."

  "You can't fire me." Furlough began to argue, but Joe was shoving him out the door.

  "Mate, I think you better pack your bags and leave. We're done. We never want to see your fucking face again. If we do, I'll personally rearrange it for you."

  Furlough narrowed his eyes and held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. You'll fucking regret it when you tank." He backed away and shoved the door open.

  A moment later, Joe strode forward and slammed it closed behind him. "Fucking good riddance to bad trash."

  "Blair called you?" I asked the moment the door closed.

  "Yeah." Joe cast his gaze over the remains of last night's bender and settled onto the broken glass that was still all over the bed. "She told me everything and I mean everything."

  "He set me up. He and Evie. He knew it was only a matter of time before I relapsed."

  Joe turned to face me, frowning. "He took advantage of you, Jake. And he took advantage of Blair."

  "That's the worst part," I said. "I don't give a fuck what happens to me anymore. I just…I wanted to protect her from being hurt again."

  "I know you had good intentions, mate." He slumped onto the couch and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. "Mick and Rob are coming, I messaged them on the way here. We've gotta talk about stuff. We need a new manager, for starters."

  Nodding, I sat next to him and grimaced at the crap all over the table. I actually hated myself. I was trash. I'd broken the one person who meant everything, who meant more to me than my own life. "Sasha would be a good choice. I know she wants it."

  "Our stage manager?"

  "She's got the goods."

  "No wonder she was quick to do shit for me just now. I got her to cancel all of Furlough's credit cards and disconnect his phone."

  I couldn't help a satisfied smirk pulling at my lips. "Good. Let him fucking suffer."

  "What are you going to do now?" Joe asked.

  The only thing I had control over. "I'm going to get my shit together, finish this tour and then I'm going to find her. I'm going to find her and tell her that I love her."

  "It's not going to be easy," he began, warily. "I mean, she could be anywhere in the world right now."

  "I know, but I have to at least try." I'd fucked everything up by have the best intentions. I'd fucked up her life and it was fragile to begin with. "Trying to start a relationship, heal from all my screwed up addictions," I ticked them off on my fingers, "while dealing with the shit of being on tour was fucking selfish of me. I was a prick to pressure her into it. I was only thinking of myself."

  Joe got up and started clearing the mess on the coffee table. "You've come a long way, Jake, but there's still a fucking age to go yet."

  "I'm going to do whatever it takes to make it right."

  "I fucking believe it, mate."

  "I'm going to take a quick shower. Let me know what the boys get here."

  "Sure."

  Closing myself in the bathroom, I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen. I'd set a photo of Blair as the wallpaper, a sneaky photo I took while she was asleep back in Paris. Back before I started to fuck up everything. Before I lost my nerve, I dialed her number and waited for it to connect. I knew she was probably on a plane right now and the call would go to voicemail, but I had to let her know. When the beep sounded, I told her the one thing I should've said a long time ago.

  "Blair," I said with a heavy sigh, "I know I fucked up. I fucked up right from the start. I wish I could go back and change things, be better…but I can't. I regret a lot of things in my life, but none more than what I did to you. I know you've gone. I know you're not coming back. I don't blame you. But, know this. I'm going to find you and when I do, it will be as a better man. One who's truly worthy of your trust. I love you." Her voicemail beeped at me, signaling the end of the recording, and I dropped my phone on the floor. Would she even listen to it? I had no idea.

  When I tried to call her again the next day, the number was disconnected.

  Three months later...

  I stood on the footpath and glared at the poster that had been taped crookedly on the inside of the window.

  Affliction. Live at London's Roundhouse theatre. Friday October 10, 7pm, £35+bf.

  So the fucks were expensive no matter the country. That's the only thing I took from the poster that stared back at me, taunting and dragging up memories that I'd rather not deal with. Memories I'd been burying with all the other shit quite successfully up until now.

  I stood out the front of the alternative goth and punk clothing store I worked at for pennies and rolled my eyes. The poster was tacked inside the front window of the shop next door, so I couldn't exactly rip it down and wipe my ass on it. It was the last thing I wanted to see, but it was only a matter of time until something clawed its way into my line of sight.

  With a sigh, I unlocked the roller door to the shop and let myself into the dark hole beyond. Even at this time of day the street was already starting to fill with tourists and they eyed me as I flicked on the lights and the stereo. Today's poison was an uber goth mega mix of Sisters of Mercy, otherwise known as the thing that was left in there last night.

  Camden Markets was the alternative center of London, but that also meant it was where tourists came to gawk. The shop was right on the high street and saw a fuck load of people tramp through every day. Thankfully, today was Monday and I'd open up the place on my own for the first two hours, deal with a handful of gawkers and randoms until the other full timer, Lucy, came in at eleven.

  Today, I was sporting a huge case of the "go fuck yourselves" and the last thing I wanted to do was deal with the two types of customers we got in here. There was the usual cluster of girls who came in on a daily basis, trying on brocade and PVC corsets just for shits and giggles and the other kind that tried on every knee high buckled platform boot in the place. Both of them had two things in common and one was the amount of time it took to do the fucking things up and the other was them leaving without buying anything. Guess which one pissed me off more?

  I leaned over the counter and dropped my head into my hands. Fuck, I was in London, the home of rock 'n' roll and punk. I should be living it up right now, but the whole thing had shades of my past life. I was working a shitty job in Camden Markets, had a room in a crappy flat share, I was alone and I was also a bigger bitch as ever. The only difference was this time I had money I'd extorted out of the man I'd been falling in love with. Money that I wasn't willing to spend. This time I needed a safety net, just incase. Maybe I could run away to Paris or Berlin and live on the edge…maybe I could just wish myself away into nothingness. Anything to fill the hole in my heart that West had once stuffed to the brim with hope, but pissed on right when things got a little bit rough.

  I had to get a fucking grip and do something about it. I'd wallowed in the shit storm of my broken heart for three months. It was time to pick myself up and give a fuck. If that was the
only thing I could take from all of this, then I had to roll with it.

  The bell on the door beeped it's annoying electronic beep as a customer walked in and I straightened up, ready to plaster a fake smile on my face. Keep on truckin'. My eyes collided with a set of chocolate brown and my heart stopped. It actually stopped beating and I wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

  "Hey," West said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I was hoping I'd find you here."

  What lengths will West go to prove his love for Blair?

  Find out in Unintended. Coming Soon…

  Unintended (Unexpected #3)

  Expected Release: May 2014

  Blair believes she's broken beyond repair.

  West believes he's beyond redemption.

  It doesn't stop either of them from fighting for what they want. Even if they have to go down kicking and screaming to get it.

  But there's one final hurdle before the finish line. West hasn't been entirely honest and when the past finally comes back to bite him in the ass, it's either going to be rainbows and fluffy kittens or total annihilation. If he wants to win Blair's love, he has to come clean. Not just to her…but the entire world.

  All the biggest mistakes are unintended, but this time it might ruin them forever.

  Sign up to the newsletter to be notified when Unintended is released

  Amity Cross isn't my real name. That's no secret.

  I didn't want my Mum and my workplace to find out I wrote about doodles and tongue-in-cheek sexual innuendo.

  I live in a leafy suburb of Melbourne, Australia writing about screwed up relationships and kick ass female leads that don't take s**t lying down.

  Insert more pretentious c**p here.

  xo

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