“What did he want? That stupid cock sucker,” Emily barks out.
“I love it when you cuss. It really puts a smile on my face.”
“Come here. You don’t have to tell me what he says. But if any of us can help, just say the word.” Nobody can help me because nobody but Jeff and I know the truth. Nobody knows what we promised and the decisions we’ve lived with for the past fifteen years.
“Thank you. Let’s get me settled at The Pierre and I’ll return you back to Louis before he sends the FBI, CIA, and Mossad after you.” If I ever find a guy who wants me half as much as Louis wants my best friend I’ll be the luckiest girl in the world.
“Come on, Louis already has you booked into the penthouse residential apartment at The Pierre for the next month. That triplex is bigger than my townhouse. Your best friend is married to a real estate big shot, that’s got to yield some perks.”
“Em, you guys didn’t have to do that. I can just get a regular room that I can afford. I’m not your problem.”
“Sara, you are my best friend in the whole wide world, my only real friend! When we stopped talking while you were married to that schmuck, I felt more alone than ever…I was lost. I would move you into my house if I thought you’d agree to it…trust me, having you a few blocks away at The Pierre is more for me than for you. And anyway, that apartment is on the market, why shouldn’t someone enjoy it if it’s empty? I hope you know that Louis and I would do anything for you.”
Just when I think my life is total and utter shit, I get a reminder of how lucky I am to call Emily Bruel my best friend. Maybe my shit will fall into place one day. For now, I’ll be licking my wounds in style at the top of the swankiest penthouse in all of New York City.
“Everybody Wants To Rule The World” by Tears For Fears
These last few weeks have been the longest weeks of my bloody life. Even longer than having to wait for my sister at a restaurant to celebrate her birthday, only to find out she’s never coming back. I miss my Isa; it just doesn’t stop hurting knowing that he gets to live while she’s long gone.
I've been trying to follow Emily and her worthless husband for weeks, and I don't know what to do with myself anymore. Why hasn't she called me? Did she not feel what I felt? How could a smart, kind, beautiful woman like her believe that lying, cheating, scumbag of a man? How did Isa fall for him, too? Why are all these women willing to give their love to him? If she were mine, I'd make her smile all day long. I'd spoil her and kiss the fucking ground she walks on. I know what that sick fucker is into and it's not being married and making one woman happy, that’s for sure! The arsehole hasn't left Emily’s side to let her goddamn piss on her own in the last few weeks. I just need to talk to her. She needs to know. I couldn't save my sister, but I need to save her. I need to save that beautiful woman who has crawled under my skin and set up camp from that monster if it's the last thing I do. That’s what Isa would want me to do.
I hate staying in this hotel in this goddamn city. Everything my eyes touch brings me back to Isa. At least in St. Lucia I’m too busy to think about all the shit that makes up my life. How I went from having a family to being part of a broken team of strangers. I miss my life when my sister still lived at home. Maybe I should go back home. Emily clearly wasn’t as affected by our encounter as I let myself imagine. I bring my fingers to my nose and I know it’s crazy but I can still smell her on my skin. I’ve washed my hands a thousand times since that night and yet I bloody swear her scent is etched in my brain.
As much as my fucked-up head keeps telling me to get as far away from her and New York as humanly possible, my broken heart won’t hear it. My heart wants what it wants and it wants Emily. I wouldn’t even need that long with her, just a few hours to tell her the truth. To tell her all about the heartless monster she thinks she loves. She doesn't know what I know. I can't just leave her here with him. My sister trusted him, loved him, and he just tossed her out and married the first young innocent girl he met. Isa would’ve been thirty-five on Sunday. I can't leave, I won’t leave¸ I won't let him destroy Emily; she needs me!
I have two hours before she’s out to go running in the park with her trainer. Today, I'm going to talk to her. A loud banging brings me out of my thoughts. Who's knocking on my door at seven in the morning? I ordered breakfast for eight. Strange. I get up from the chair I’ve been sitting in for the last two hours, watching the sunrise over central park.
“Hold your face, I'm coming!” The banging actually gets louder. “Bloody hell, give me a minute,” I yell as I walk across my suite to the door. I don’t even ask or look to see who it is before opening the door. As soon as I open the door, my heart stops and then instantly jump-starts from the view. In front of me is the person I loathe most in the world. I would love to murder this animal and gladly spend the rest of my life in jail with the biggest smile on my face. Why does he get to live while my sister lies dead? I ask myself for the millionth time. “Look who came to visit. Louis ‘The Wanker’ Bruel, to what do I owe this revolting pleasure? Did your doctors say it was all right for you to leave the hospital?” How did he even know I was in New York? He looks older, less cocky. Maybe it's my imagination but he looks nervous. He doesn’t answer, just looks at me and smiles. That sly smile that I need to wipe off his face.
“Nice place Willy boy, it's good to see Daddy's money is still paying for your lifestyle.”
Daddy's money, that's rich coming from this hypocrite who only has a pot to piss in because his papa croaked and left him everything. “Louis, you should know a thing or two about spending Daddy's money.” I love how his eyes just sharpened. Arrogant prick. People in glass houses should shut the bloody fuck up. “Why are you here and what do you want?”
“Thanks for inviting me in,” he says as he pushes the door fully open and lets himself in. Dickhead. “Did you miss New York, William? You know I have a restraining order against you. So, don't forget to count to ten and think twice before you act out.” He walks into my suite with his hands behind his back as he looks around, not sure what he’s bloody looking for. He walks past me towards the huge window overlooking 5th Avenue and Central park. Louis Bruel thinks he’s king of everything. But he can’t fool me. I know what kind of scum he really is. I close the door and follow to stand behind him, and if I had a weapon, he’d probably be dead already. He sits in the same chair by the window that less than five minutes ago, I sat in while fantasizing about my gorgeous Emily. That thought brings a smile to my lips.
“You came to me. Take yourself the fuck out of here and I won't have to restrain myself from rearranging your mug.” Maybe I'll finally have the chance to murder this wanker.
“Sit down, Liam, we need to talk. I've been very generous with you,” he says, pointing to a chair opposite him.
This whoreson is being generous with me? I snicker to myself. I loathe that he calls me Liam, it means Isa told him. “Oh, Master Louis, please, do tell why you're being so very generous with me. I won't be sucking your knob or kissing your dirty arse so drop the bureaucracies and let’s take care of business like men—without calling the coppers. And don't you bloody call me Liam or dare and try to tell me what to do. I'm not some vulnerable girl you can manipulate and destroy.” If I were older when Isa got mixed up with him, I would’ve slaughtered him.
“Liam, sit down. This is about Emily.” Emily? Hearing her name come out of his mouth physically pains me. What happened to Emily? I should sit down and listen to what this arse has to say. I'm starved for any information about her. How is it possible to go from detesting the girl I thought contributed to my sister's death, to being hopelessly obsessed with that same woman? I haven’t been able to get her out of my system in weeks.
“What about Emily?” Even hearing myself say her name out loud somehow feels painful. But his reaction to me saying her name is fucking priceless. Possessive lowlife.
“Did your dream come true when you drugged my wife and got her naked into your bed, Liam?” Stupid p
ig, I would never hurt Emily, and if he calls me Liam one more time, I’ll kill him.
“Well, you're still breathing, so obviously my dreams haven’t come true, yet.” If he actually died, I'd be with Emily right now. I would get a chance to show her how a woman deserves to be treated and loved. Why do good people die while imbeciles like him and his friends get to live? “How many innocent women will you keep luring to their death? What do you promise them, anyway? Isa didn't need your money, why would she be with a person like you? Poor Emily, what have you put that sweet girl through?”
He looks mad. He's ready to pounce. “Don't talk about my wife like you know her,” he says through gritted teeth. Stupid, arrogant prick; I know your wife inside and out, I think to myself with pride.
“I do know her. Better than you may be comfortable with, mate.” A big smile spreads across my face when I let my head think back to our time together in St. Lucia. Emily came there alone, broken, and in pain, thanks to this cheating, lying monster. I helped her, I made her forget about him and smile again. She sang for me, danced for me, and I'm sure she felt it, too. How did an arsehole like Louis Bruel who probably fucked most of Manhattan find someone like her?
“Emily told me everything. I know she came to your father’s resort accidently because she was running away from something she thought she saw. I also know you were very chivalrous and offered her half your room, and that you tried to get your revenge on me by getting her drunk and putting her to sleep naked in your bed. Did I miss anything, William?” Yeah, you missed the part where she drank to forget about the pain you caused her and how sweet those lips tasted while I made her moan, I think to myself.
“You forgot many intimate morsels that I'm sure Emily didn't think were any of your bloody business.” Look at him—Louis is holding himself back. He really wants a piece of me. Come and get me, fucking oinker.
“Emily and I don't have secrets from each other. I'm here to tell you that it’s time to stop waiting and spying on my wife. Willy-boy, go home before I call your father and have him come get you. Go stalk a nice girl back in London.”
Funny, I haven’t spoken to my parents in months. After Isa's death, our family just crumbled thanks to him. Everybody does his or her own business and nobody speaks. I don't even think my parents knew I was engaged a few months back. I wonder if my parents even talk to each other anymore? I get my instructions from their assistants and everybody is peachy. Did she really send Louis here to tell me to leave? Did he tell her I was using her? I snort to myself, thinking that perhaps she actually believed me when I said nothing happened that night. That morning, she didn’t look like the confident woman that stripped for me the night before. She looked scared and embarrassed. I didn’t want to add to her hurt; she looked on the verge of another massive panic attack. When she questioned me about what we did, what was I supposed to say? That I kissed those lips all night, and that I touched every inch of her body? That I’d hoped in the morning she would wake up and ask me to make love to her? I couldn’t tell her that she was supposed to remember me kissing her and not moan out his name while I sucked her beautiful tits. I hate him so much, yet all I wanted that night was for my name to fucking be Louis. I have to talk to her; she can’t think I would try to hurt her. If I tell her what kind of a monster he is and what he's capable of, surely she won't want to stay with him.
“I'll leave once I speak to her,” I answer him. His eyes widen. The piece of rubbish is scared I'll tell her everything. “Louis, I'll only tell her a few stories from Isa's book.”
He’s up and in my face, breathing hard with veins popping out of his neck. “If that book…I swear to God, if it ever sees the light of day, it will cost you and your father every last penny you’ve got.”
I laugh before saying, “But it will cost you Emily. I'm willing to give up a few quid to make that happen.”
I don't have time to react before he has me on the floor. He puffs hard, frothing at the mouth, trying to choke me, and I'm laughing as I’m barely able to get him off of me. He’s maybe a little taller than me, but I’m younger and in way better form. I push him off me, he stumbles backwards on his arse and I shove him further down and straddle his chest. I now have him under me and I can see he’s battling to get me off. This fucker had a heart attack a month ago—this can’t be good for him. “I can kill you, old man. It would be a fitting homage to my sister and a present for Emily.” He has kids; I wouldn’t do that to them or Emily, as much as I’d love to. I’m not an animal like him. I want Emily to pick me, not by default, but by choice. It’s the reason I brought her back to him in the first place.
I get off the floor and walk over to the liquor cabinet trying to catch my breath while I fix myself a drink. I don’t look behind, but I can hear him still huffing and puffing, gasping for air.
“How old were you when Isa died?” he asks me while still lying on the floor in the middle of my suite.
I hate hearing him call her Isa; I call her Isa. I don’t want to discuss this with him—the man who brought my family nothing but pain. I will not desecrate my sister’s memory by making conversation with this despicable excuse for a human. I look out at this beautiful city sprawled out before me, and I can’t stop from wishing things would’ve turned out differently. What if Louis loved my sister like she wanted and needed him to, would Isa still be alive? Would Emily and I be together? We’re almost the same age. Would she be my destiny? All I can think about is how beautiful and perfect we could be together. I ache to touch and caress every curve, every piece of her. I hear him moving on the floor and I come back from my daydream. I answer him, hoping to get him out of my suite before Emily goes on her morning run.
“I was seventeen when my father told me she tried killing herself for the first time because of you.” Was it really that long ago? Twelve fucking years. It almost feels like time actually stood still from that point on. I've gotten older, but I haven’t lived past that day. How could she try to hurt herself because of this scum? How can something as beautiful as my sister be gone and destroyed forever? Every goddamn day starts with me reliving my parents telling me two years ago that my beautiful Isa is gone to be with my baby brother. That Isabella and Thomas are together in heaven watching out for each other and me. I can still hear my mom crying, weeping like a baby as yet another one of her children gets ripped out of her hands. I remember my dad’s dead eyes as he told me she was gone. I feel the guilt of her death every bloody day. I waited in that damn restaurant for over an hour and she didn’t show, I called and she didn’t pick up her phone. I just got fed up, threw her birthday cake in the bin, and left. I should’ve gone to her flat to look after her to make certain she was all right. Maybe I could’ve called the medics sooner. When they found her, it was too late.
I didn’t understand back then that my brother and sister had been paying for my parents’ sins. You don’t get to have our wealth without being hated, envied, and cursed. Thomas was just a baby, I don’t even remember when he was taken from us, but I grew up with Isa. She was beautiful, smart, kind, and had everything. She had herds of friends and every bloke in London wanted to take her out. Why would she let herself get involved with him and his friends? Why is he special? Why couldn’t somebody stop it?
“I was thirty-eight,” Louis says, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to our painful reality. “She called me that morning. I don't know how she got my number or why I picked up. I never answer numbers I don't recognize, but I did. She said she was sorry for hurting me and that she knows how much I love Emily. She’d heard we had another baby and that it was time to give up. I wanted to hang up on her, but I couldn't. I felt so bad for her…I failed her. We were friends a long time ago. I cared for her as a friend once, and yet I just stood there in the kitchen, watching my wife and listening to Isa say goodbye. She hung up and that was it. After everything she’d been through, with the failed suicide attempts and even after she got clearance from the hospital, I knew she was too sick to go on liv
ing a normal life.”
I stand dejectedly and look out into Central Park, listening to Louis fucking Bruel tell me about my sister’s last words. As he talks to me, all I can think is, why? Why would she call him and not me? It was her birthday and she didn’t talk to me. Why would she waste her last breath on him? I feel a lump form in my throat and I know we need to end this rendezvous. I read her book. I know what he did to her. They weren’t just friends. He used and abused her. Too much money, sex, and drugs. The way he talks, you’d think he actually cared about her. You’d think he wasn’t the man that got off on seeing her mutilated by other men while he sat and watched. I feel bile rising and I want this jackarse out of my sight.
“You need to get your fucking arse out of here. I’m done listening to your bullshit.” He now sits on the floor in his handmade whistle and flute, and for a split second I want to believe that he’s not a monster. As much as I loathe him I want to pretend that Emily loves a good guy. But that second passes and I once again hear my sister’s voice as she narrates his actions, and my heart turns to steel as I hate him even more.
“I’m leaving, but I need you to promise me that you’ll leave my wife alone. I don’t want you contacting her. It’s just not safe for you to be around her. I don’t know what kind of revenge you’re after, but she didn’t know about Isa when we met. If you have words, you know where to find me, but let’s leave the women and children out of this.” Did this cocksucker just say “not safe”?
“Mate, those drugs must be messing with your cognitive ability if you reckon me talking to Emily wouldn’t be safe. I would never hurt her. I’m the one that brought her back home ‘safe’! I would do anything to keep her safe, and if telling her the truth about her dirty husband will help keep her safe, I’ll do that, too.”
He gets up off the floor and goes to fix himself a drink.
“Help yourself,” I say.
Lies In Rewind Page 3