by Amity Cross
Tears were streaming down her face, her eyes fixed on me. I’d just broken her in two, but she’d just shit all over the one thing I’d struggled with all these years. Unrequited love.
Striding across the room, I barged into the bathroom and slammed the door closed behind me.
She’d used my love against me, and that…that was unforgivable.
The sound of glass shattering made me flinch.
Sitting on the plastic frog, I wobbled back and forth and guzzled my beer. Letting out a loud belch, I tossed my empty bottle and laughed as it smashed against the side of the adventure playground.
“Shot!” Cole exclaimed from the top of the platform. With a whoop, he skidded down the slide, falling at the bottom and doing an uncoordinated barrel roll.
“You guys are pigs,” Sadie called out.
Glancing over at the girls who were sitting in a flock on the picnic tables, I flipped them the bird.
The playground was dark, the orange street lights the only thing that lit our little Year Twelve graduation pre-party.
I’d turned eighteen the week before, so I’d been the one who had gone into the bottle shop to get the slab of beer for the guys and the mixed pack of flavored vodka for the girls. I was legit legal now. No more fake IDs for me.
The day had passed like any other, though Raquel from my second-period math class had lured me behind the art building and let me suck on her tongue, then her bare tits. They were nice and all, but there was only one set I wanted, and they belonged to Jade Forsyth.
Cole kicked the ass of the frog, and I almost fell off the front.
“I’m gonna tell her,” I declared.
“Tell who?” He kicked the frog again.
“I’m gonna tell Jade she’s the one.”
“Yeah, right,” Cole retorted. “You’ve been saying that for, like, two years. You’re never going to tap that. It’s too pure.”
“It’s not like that,” I complained. “We talk and stuff.”
“Yeah, when she’s not sucking Hunter Ballinger’s cock for his trust fund.”
“Fuck you,” I shot at him. “Take that back.”
“You know it’s true,” he declared, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “They’re off one second, and then the next week, they’re back together. You really want to fuck with him and his crew? You know I’ve got your back, but we’re about to crash another of their parties. Give it until ten o’clock, and we’ll be punching on with those pussies. You touch Jade, and they’ll be all gunning for you.”
“So what? She’s worth it.”
“Does honey come out of her pussy or something?” he drawled. “You expecting to get a hit of pure crack cocaine the second your little prick dips in?”
“She’s worth it,” I said, leaping off the frog and shoving my shoulder into his chest. “When she’s not with those assholes, she’s different. Like us.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Your funeral.” He glanced over to the group of girls who were giggling and drinking their bright red vodkas. “If you don’t want Raquel, maybe I can convince her to suck my cock instead.”
“Your funeral,” I shot back at him. Picking up the plastic bag, bottles of beer clinked inside. “I’m going to meet my destiny.”
“Destiny?” Cole called out after me. “The only destiny that’s waiting for you and me is the slammer, bro! Six months tops, and I’ll see you in Gen Pop!”
Shutting out Cole’s defeatist attitude, I walked down the street toward the sounds of thumping music. I had to do it tonight because tomorrow, she would be gone for good. School was finished, and everyone was going their separate ways. University, TAFE, apprenticeships, jobs, gap years, and for losers like Cole and me, sucking the system dry.
For two years, I’d lusted after the beautiful redheaded girl I’d spotted at the first party I gatecrashed with Cole. That night, I’d saved her from a drunk dickhead who’d been trying to feel her up and stolen a kiss as payment. From there on out, I only ever had eyes for her, but there was one problem. She belonged to the biggest dick of the century—Hunter Ballinger.
King of a boys private school, captain of all the sports teams, a trust fund kid, loaded parents, and a massive ego to match, I was nothing compared to him. Rich versus poor…it was always the same. Jade was his property, and she lapped it up like she was the star of a romance novel.
When they were off, she came to me. We hung out, we talked, we were real for a few days, but that was it. When they were back on, I was dumped like a ton of bricks. Deep down, I knew she was using me, but I didn’t care. Like a starving dog, I was desperate for any scrap of attention I could get.
Before me sat some rich kid’s house. It was this two-storied, double-garaged, manicured-lawn bullshit. Pushing inside, I ignored the murmurings and filthy looks and began searching for Jade. She was here. I knew she was. There was no way she would miss this party.
Pausing in the doorway to the lounge room, I spied her head of red curls, and my heart leapt. She was sitting on the couch…next to Hunter. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and they were laughing at some private joke. He kissed her on the lips, and she smiled before going in all the way.
I watched them kiss—full-on sucking face—and felt my bravado evaporate. She’d gone back to him. Again.
I couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his dirty tricks for what felt like the fiftieth time that year, but realizing that she didn’t care he’d been off kissing another girl—especially since he’d come back to her afterward—I scowled. She looked so fucking happy.
What could I offer her? Nothing. I’d just been slapped back into reality. In what world would a rich girl like Jade Forsyth look twice at a piece of scum like me? Not this one. She’d proven it over and over again. I was the idiot who didn’t want to see. I was nothing to her while she was everything to me.
Turning, I walked back down the hall and disappeared, leaving her perfect little world intact.
17
Jade
I understood it now.
Why Ryan had asked if I was being a selfish bitch when I went to see him at Pulse last week. All that time, he’d had feelings for me, and I’d been blind to it, my focus firmly on a life that turned out to be completely shallow and unfulfilling.
I’d given up a guy like Ryan—a genuine, hardworking, sweet, kind, funny guy—for a pair of materialistic, selfish assholes named Margaret and Hunter. Afraid of being alone, I’d latched onto something poisonous rather than grow a spine.
I wasn’t a strong woman. I was a pathetic little rat.
Leaning against the front counter of the Mercure Hotel, I waited for the clerk to arrange a room for the night. All I wanted to do was drag myself upstairs, collapse into bed, and cry. My suitcase sat beside me, full to bursting, my handbag perched on top.
I could still feel him—Ryan—between my legs and all over my body. My heart was torn in two knowing I’d hurt him.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the woman said. “But your card has been declined.”
“What?” I blinked, bewildered. “That can’t be right. Can you try it again?”
She raised her eyebrows and swiped the card again, knowing full well that once declined, meant always declined.
“Declined,” she said, sounding bored. “Do you have another card? Cash, perhaps?”
“No,” I muttered. “I don’t have anything else on me…”
The woman blinked at me, signaling her annoyance. That was that, then.
Retreating across the foyer, I sank down into an armchair and rested my forehead against the edge of my suitcase. Why couldn’t something go smoothly for once? Why was I being punished for something Hunter did? I mean, Ryan… Ryan had helped me, but I’d been blind to his feelings, making everything about me and my heartache.
Ryan was right. I was a selfish, shallow little girl.
Fighting back tears, I fumbled through my handbag and found my phone. Knowing the bank
was closed on a Sunday, the only recourse I had was calling. Not that I would be able to get any money today, but it was something proactive at least. I didn’t want to think about where I was going to stay tonight. Maybe it would be another all-nighter, only this time, I would be sitting at a filthy table at one of the twenty-four-hour fast-food joints down on Swanston Street.
Calling the number for the bank, I went through the automated prompts, pressing numbers until I was led to a real live person.
“Thank you for calling Westpac, my name is Khushi. How may I assist you today?”
“My card keeps getting declined, and there’s money in there, and I don’t know what’s going on,” I blurted.
“Okay, let’s check that for you,” the woman went on, sounding like a robot. “May I confirm some details with you before we begin?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I gave her all the details she could ever want to know—short of giving her my life story, culminating with my cheating ex-fiancé and my lapse of judgment with Ryan—and she put me on hold.
Sinking back into the chair, I never felt more humiliated in my life. Dumped and kicked out, twice. Even the fucking hotel receptionist had looked at me like I was scum. Was that how I’d treated people who I thought were beneath me all this time? Was I really that superficial? Vomit was beginning to percolate in my stomach, the acid eating away at the lining…just like my engagement ring had wormed its way into the innards of my handbag.
This world of money, privilege, and social climbing had poisoned me. Was I beyond saving?
“Miss Forsyth?”
“Yes, yes,” I said hastily as the woman named Khushi came back on the line.
“I’m sorry, but your card has been canceled,” she said apologetically. “You’re no longer listed as an account holder.”
“There must be some mistake…” I said, beginning to panic.
“I’m sorry, but I’m unable to give out any further information without the primary account holder’s authorization. Is the primary account holder with you?”
“No…” I muttered. “No, he’s away on business. Probably fucking some hussy as well.”
The horror of joint bank accounts. Hunter had access to my money, and I had access to his. He’d cut me off from what was mine, afraid I would transfer out all his money and leave him high and dry. Like I was that low.
“Bastard,” I cursed under my breath.
“Miss? I’m sorry, but I can’t give—”
“I know, I know,” I interrupted. “You can’t give out any information without the account holder’s permission.”
“Is there something else I can help you with?”
“No. No one can help me,” I said before hanging up.
Immediately dialing Hunter’s mobile number, I pressed my phone back to my ear and listened as each ring buzzed. I had no idea what time it was over in Dubai, but I hoped it was early. Real fucking early. He was about to cop an earful.
If I was in a more sound state of mind, I would probably have something to say about this being the first time I’d spoken to him since ‘the incident.’ In fact, the last time I’d seen him was when he’d stood in front of me, his semi-erect penis—bare, without a condom—still covered in the vagina juices of some brunette bimbo and asked me if I would be into an open marriage.
“Jade?”
Hunter’s voice echoed down the line, and my lip curled. Bastard. If his cheating wasn’t enough, he’d gone and taken everything else from me, too. My money, my home, my life. At least he hadn’t taken my job.
“It’s six a.m.,” he said. “What do you want?”
“Hunter,” I said. “You canceled my bank cards.”
“They’re my accounts,” he declared, sounding far too awake for my liking. “And if I’m not mistaken, we’re no longer engaged, so there’s no use for our finances to be tied together anymore. It’s smart business, Jade.”
“Smart business?” My mouth dropped open.
“Besides, it took you over a week to notice.”
“But all my money is in there!” I cried. “My money from my job!”
“What can I say, Jade? I’ll sort it out when I get back.” He sounded distracted and completely whatever about all of this. “You’ll get your money.”
Hadn’t he cared about me at all? Had I been destined to be something pretty he could drape on his arm? Had he truly loved me at all?
“When will that be?” I demanded.
“My contract was extended,” he replied. “I’ll be here for another six weeks.”
“Six weeks!” I screeched. “But I need my money now. Can’t you do something?”
Voices hummed in the background. “Listen, Jade, I’m about to walk into a breakfast meeting. I’ll see you when I get back, okay?”
“No! Hunter, I need—”
The line went dead, and I let out a frustrated roar.
No, no, no. This could not be happening!
Standing, I zeroed in on a vase of flowers on the table beside the chair and pushed it violently. A crash drew the attention of the hotel staff, but I was too upset to care. Everything was falling apart. Everything.
I had nothing but my suitcase. Wait, that was wrong. I did have something. A set of keys.
The sound of a man clearing his throat drew my attention. Glancing at the concierge standing in front of me, my cheeks turned beetroot red.
“Miss?” he said, glowering. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Rolling my suitcase down the footpath, I came to a halt out front of Hunter’s terrace house in Collingwood. Until a week ago, it had been mine as well, but I wasn’t going to get caught up on a technicality. With any luck, he hadn’t had the locks changed yet. Besides, he knew I was going to come back for my stuff.
If he was going to be away for another six weeks, how would he know I was crashing here unless he rocked up early? He wouldn’t because I knew the alarm code, and he was too dumb to check the logs.
Unlocking the front door, I pushed it open and almost gagged at the familiar scent of mine and Hunter’s life. Rolling my case inside, I left it by the hall table and punched in the alarm code. Smirking as the keypad flashed green, I turned toward the dark interior of the place I used to call home.
I don’t know if I wanted to punish myself for what I did to Ryan or if I needed confirmation things were well and truly over with Hunter, but I went upstairs and stepped into the bedroom. The scene of the crime.
The bed was perfectly made with new sheets, and the room was heavy with the scent of Hunter’s cologne. The cologne I’d bought him years ago and had become his signature. He never wore anything else, but now that we weren’t together…
Oh, God, you shallow bitch, I thought to myself. Who gives a flying fuck about Hunter Ballinger?
I could be angry with myself all I wanted, but he’d been a large part of my life. We’d been together for ten years. Eleven if you counted all the times we’d broken up. Of course, it would be hard to leave it all behind.
Thinking about Ryan, I groaned. He was the only person who’d given a crap about me and look how I’d treated him. I was just as bad as Hunter. Maybe I’d deserved everything I’d gotten.
Sucking in a deep breath, my chest felt heavy. Sweat prickled across my forehead, and I leaned against the doorjamb, my heart racing. My entire life, I’d been working and sacrificing for this? This was what I got for working three different jobs to claw my way through University? This was what I got for working eighty-hour weeks at Slattery as head of marketing? What a fucking joke.
Practically hyperventilating, I rushed from the bedroom, thundered downstairs, skidded through the kitchen, and stumbled out into the back garden. Gulping in lungfuls of air, I grasped the edge of the trellis, breathing in the scent of lilac.
I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t face the shit things I’d done. I was such a coward it made me sick.
Glancing at the garage that opened out onto the lane behind t
he house, I curled my lip. Hunter’s car would still be in there. He always left it locked up when he went away and took a car service to the airport.
Looking over my shoulder at the house, I knew exactly where the spare key was hidden.
Fuck him. I was going to steal his car.
Parking Hunter’s silver BMW in a secluded side street in East Melbourne, I killed the engine and sank back into the leather seat.
I was going mad. Certifiably insane. Stealing my ex’s car was right up there. If I was arrested… Hell, at least I would have a place to stay.
Think, Jade…
I was hollow. Nothing was inside me but pain. Hollow pain.
The giraffe Ryan bought me at the zoo sat on the seat beside me, and I pulled it into my lap. My mind filled with memories of all our adventures, and I knew it had been more. It had meant everything, and knowing there was a whole world out there I’d never even known existed, ate me up inside. All that wasted time, and for what? Misery.
I didn’t feel like this after Hunter. So alone, completely adrift and drowning in my despair. It didn’t feel like this because I never really loved him. The only thing I’d cared about was the idea of having the perfect life. I’d been shallow.
Now I’d fucked up the one thing that could’ve been my happily ever after.
Ryan was right. I’d said it before, and I would be saying it for the rest of my life. Ryan was right, and I was wrong.
Just as I was about to push the seat back and get comfortable, my phone began to ring. My heart twisted with a sick feeling of hope as I sifted through my handbag. Then as I saw the name lighting up the screen, I was bitch-slapped back into reality.
Margaret.
“Where were you yesterday?” she demanded the moment I answered the call. “You never showed up for brunch. We couldn’t wait, you know.”
