Wicked Sunshine

by Justine Winter

  I leave before she can stop me because I’m too damn close to breaking down. After this, there’s nothing more I can do to prove it’s her that I love, whom I intend to have a family with. I have no more tricks to garner her trust.

  I’m either enough.

  Or I’m not.

  ~ £ ~

  “This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever had,” I grump to Layla whilst Cam is busy chaperoning my mother. Christ, the cast is still on, the bruises have faded, the ribs have healed, our relationship remains rocky yet she’s still here, desperate for that ideological husband.

  “Stop fretting, Grayson. She’ll come. If she loves you as half as much as you love her she’ll be here before the end of the night.”

  I glance at my sister all elegantly dressed. “Did she say anything to you earlier?”

  “No. After you left she stayed in her office all afternoon.”

  Bugger, I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. I glance at my watch just as Doctor Ross comes my way. It’s time for one of my brilliant speeches.

  I stand at the podium where a slew of media microphones wait to catch my speech, and yes, those fucking trigger happy photo stealers are poised in preparation to rape my eyes.

  They’ll break my smoulder one day.

  I clear my throat, and all eyes turn my way, but there’s still no sign of Maya. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out tonight to join me in celebrating the success of the Rush To Me Foundation. Your donations and support have gone a long way in changing the paths of many untold futures.”

  I clap my hands together, but all I focus on is seeking out my sunshine in the crowd.

  Nothing.

  Maybe she really is done with me. I grip the sides of the glass podium, bowing my head with disappointment. I’ve fucked up for good this time.

  “It isn’t often I speak of my personal life, not when you all seem intent on writing whatever the hell you think will make you money anyway.” I aim my stab at the papz. They don’t like it? Tough shit. They shouldn’t spread bullshit if they’re not willing to take the repercussions.

  My guests, however, laugh. They understand the pollution that comes with being wealthy. Doesn’t matter how much Febreeze you spray on a shit, it’ll still be a turd at the end of the day.

  “It’s not easy losing someone you love. We live in a wicked world where people feel better about themselves by bullying someone else because no doubt someone is already bullying them. It’s a cycle that needs breaking, but not everyone is strong enough to do it on their own.”

  I search the crowd some more. Nothing. Even Layla’s shaking her head.

  “I lost my father when I was ten, my sister was barely one. How do you comprehend the swirl of emotions controlling you without guidance from an adult? I didn’t have that luxury, instead I spent my days rolling in fights for being teased that my father is dead. Bullies are cruel, vicious forms of the human species that make us believe that what’s wrong in our lives is our own doing, our own fault. According to them, my dad’s workplace fire happened because of me, because I didn’t deserve a father. For no other reason than jealousy. Who were they to decide if a person’s worthy of love? Isn’t everyone?”

  I take a second, blocking out the running images of my terrible childhood. It’s a shady phase I prefer to keep hidden in the past.

  “I’m not proud that I spent so much of my time in detention nursing broken noses and busted lips, but it was the only outlet those bullies ever provided me. Perhaps if the adults had given me the attention I needed instead of punishment for something I never asked for, I would’ve been strong enough to break the cycle sooner rather than later.

  “But they kept coming, and I kept swinging until I was old enough to realise it wasn’t healthy. For them, or me. That’s when I became aware of our country’s failing system to support the people that need it. I’ve spent years on a waiting list to hash out my anger, grief, responsibilities, everything that is entirely too much to weigh on the shoulders of a young child. It wasn’t until I was seventeen that I was finally able to see a therapist, by which point I declined. I’d done the work myself. I rehabilitated through work.”

  I sip my champagne, my throat’s parched. “This is why the Foundation is crucial to succeeding. Where the Public Health fails, we’ll rise and give others a fighting chance. Please don’t stop giving. Thank you.”

  Between diving deep in my past and recent events, I know my expression is grim. I can’t help it despite wanting to give a positive picture to match the urgency of my speech. I’m overcome with the notion that Maya has truly given up on me that the flashes of cameras don’t even register. I don’t see them.

  Everything has become one black pit of despair. I move through the crowd towards Layla when I’m stopped, another angle wanted for the media no doubt.

  But my heart is thundering wildly because she’s here, fucking stunning in a black strapless dress as she stares at me from across the room. Suddenly, she’s all I care about as I rush to her side, ignoring the whines of the press.

  The second I’m close I don’t hesitate, kissing her fiercely. I’m pulling her into me, feeling every inch of her as if we’ve been apart for years, not days.

  But that’s the problem with love. One week without it is like two months without food. You become starved for the very thing that comes natural to you.

  “I’m sorry I doubted you, Grayson.”

  “Shhh,” I say, wiping the tear that trickles her cheek. I’m busy enjoying the encompassing sensations of having her back in my arms, that the euphoria of reuniting has me high on life.

  Fuck me, I can feel verbal diarrhoea working its way through my oesophagus.

  I can’t stop it. Bloody hell, it’s going to happen. I’m going to say something I’ll never be able to take back.

  Shit, hold me down. Tape me up. Do something, because that slow-mo camera angle is coming back.

  I glance around the room, slowly taking in every head invested in our conversation. Layla, Cam, my mother, Doctor Ross, the press. They’re all there, watching our very public display of affection.

  And then I’m doing it. Bollocks, I’m falling to the floor, my knee effectively booms as it lands on the hard surface.

  Maya’s slowly reaching her hands to her mouth, shaking her head, while I’m tugging on her left arm.

  Fuck me, I’m not done yet. Cameras seem to fly through the air, people are falling over their own feet. And then I’m actually doing it, blowing figurative chunks across the room as I spit the sentence I never imagined saying again in my life.

  “Will you marry me, sunshine?”

  The End

  Author’s Note

  Holy moly, where do I start? Wicked Sunshine has become the distraction I’ve needed most at such a challenging time. Without getting too deep, I’ll give you the facts. A couple months ago my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, and as improbable as it seemed, so was my nana. I mean, what were the odds? As clichéd as it comes, it was a total shock. So if I ever give out one decent piece of wisdomy advice in my life (because I’ve been failing in my stories) it’s to always check those breasticles. Lumps have a way of popping up like an unwanted pimple overnight. Evil suckers.

  Anyway, bad (but-really-good) boy Grayson has been my therapist. He’s taken my anger, my tears and fears, and turned them into something worth reading. And funny. That’s what I’ve needed most. To laugh amongst the shit because I know this is only temporary. My family’s getting better between the tirade of hospital visits. Hell, even now this note is coming to you from a waiting room as my mum goes through radiotherapy.

  So, why am I waffling on like this? Well, I want Grayson’s arrogance and humorous observations to help you through a tough time too, and if not, I hope he makes your Friday night worthwhile. Bow-chicka-wow-wow.

  I never really envisioned setting off to write a book like this yet, especially when I have a long list of others to do first, but Grayson found a way
to push to the front of the queue. He’s good at getting what he wants, isn’t he? #JustAskMaya

  Even with everything that’s been going on, his story didn’t take long to materialise. The bugger has a way of overtaking my mind completely. Besides, a man that persistent deserves my attention. Controlling rascal that he is.

  I admit, I was afraid to write this in the beginning, Grayson completely stripped me out of my comfort zone. I mean, just how far could I go with his arrogance until he’s hated? Sure he could have some redeeming qualities, but there’s only so much arsehole behaviour a person can take before it becomes obnoxious. I hope his balance between hate and love satisfied you as much as it did me. He’s a little teddy bear really, isn’t he?

  When I set out on this laughable adventure, Grayson’s story was going to be a standalone. A one-off of a funny bad boy. No commitments - something he’s used to. But the more I wrote, the more points went unsolved. Namely, Sabrina. We haven’t seen the last of her psychotic breakdown yet. I also figured I wasn’t ready to let go of the foul-mouthed, muscled man yet. He’s demanding more out of our relationship just as he is with Maya therefore I’m obliging. It didn’t take much persuasion on my part to give in. #Floozy

  Maya and Grayson’s story will continue, hopefully leading with more answers than questions this time. Here’s me shooting myself in the foot. #Jinxed Their next novel, Wayward Shadows, was originally going to be through Maya’s perspective only. But I’m toying with the idea of a dual POV. I’m not sure I can write another book without Grayson’s foul-mouthed, whimsical input. Whichever route the story demands to be told in the end I hope I do her personality justice and bring you just as many laughs as Grayson did. I feel a joke about boob sweat working its way in somewhere. #BreasticleTears

  One last thing I really wanted to mention is to remind you that this is fiction. While I do research, there are certain things that needed to happen that may not necessarily be achievable in reality. I’m shelving those moments under ‘artistic license.’ It’s not real, people. #CoveringMyArse

  As always I want to shout out a billboard-sized THANK YOU to everyone that’s helped in the process of this novel. I appreciate and love every single one of you for your crazy talents. I’m hiding you from Grayson or he’ll want to steal you for his businesses instead. #Mine

  Finally, there’s you. My reader. Thank you for choosing Wicked Sunshine. If you could leave a review at the retailer you purchased from, I can’t begin to explain how helpful that would be for me. Reviews help me sell copies, and in turn allows me to continue writing. Thank you.

  I hope you all enjoyed Wicked Sunshine, and hang around with me until Wayward Shadows releases next year (2016).

  Speak Soon,

  Jxo

  Titles by Justine Winter

  Full Length Novels:

  Nature’s Destiny (Book 1, Nature’s Destiny series)

  Sapphire’s Divinity (Book 2, Nature’s Destiny series)

  Guardians Dynasty (Book 3, Nature’s Destiny series)

  Coming Soon: Warrior’s Duty (Book 4, Nature’s Destiny series)

  Serials:

  Alpha Wanted: Part 1

  Alpha Wanted: Part 2

  Alpha Wanted: Part 3

  About the Author

  I’ve always lived a life based on my imagination, from hopeless dreams of romance to concocting alternate realities involving supernaturals. I’m completely fascinated with anything hero-related, and often speculate which superpower I’d possess. I haven’t settled on one yet.

  I was born in England, and currently reside in Wales, UK. I love to write, and most days you’ll find me happily tapping away at the computer whilst in my pyjama-clad bubble. I also spend my time reading, and if that isn’t enough I’m often in the kitchen baking up a treat.

  If you want to know more about me, you can find me pretty much everywhere!

  Visit my Website: http://justinewinter.wordpress.com/

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  Finally, you can e-mail me at justinewinter@hotmail.co.uk.