The Taste of Redemption

by I. A. Dice

  “Should I expect my boss to be slightly pissed off tomorrow?”

  I shook my head. “Nick doesn’t mind.”

  “I meant Thomas, Nadia. I know what the deal is with you two. That’s why I wanted to get you out of there. You looked ready to throw up when he came into the kitchen with that bimbo.”

  “She seems nice,” I said, unconvinced. “Don’t be rude. How do you know about me and Thomas?”

  “Ethan’s girlfriend, Sarah, is my sister, and it’s not like Ethan can keep his big mouth shut.”

  I rested my forehead on the cool glass. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t answer but put his foot down. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at a small pub on the outskirts of London. Chase parked the car on the street, then led me inside. Karaoke night wasn’t until tomorrow, but we settled for a table in the corner and a few Coronas.

  “Care to share? I’m a good listener.”

  “Thank you, but all I want is not to think about Thomas.”

  He took a swing of the beer. “Yeah, I get that. I know what it’s like to love someone you can’t have.”

  “Care to share?” I rested my elbows on the table. “I’m a good listener.”

  Chase smiled. The intensity of his gaze burned my cheeks.

  “I’m in love with this girl,” he began. “Every day I see her with another guy. It kills me, but there is nothing I can do to win her over. I can’t even try, because that guy is my brother.”

  My eyes widened. “You’re in love with his girlfriend?”

  “Fucked up, right?”

  “Well… yeah. I mean, there’s nothing you can do about the way you feel. Believe me, I know, and that’s the worst part, isn’t it? That you have to sit back and watch because if you decide to be selfish, you’ll hurt people you love.”

  Instead of sadness, his eyes shone with a glint of happiness. “I tell you what. We’re in the same wagon, so how about tonight we forget about Thomas and Caroline and just have fun. What do you say?”

  “That depends on what you mean by fun.”

  Chase chuckled, slamming the empty bottle on the table. “Not sex, if that’s what you thought, although I won’t say no if you ask.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  CHAPTER 16

  THOMAS

  Fight

  Two piles of papers were neatly arranged on my desk, waiting to be signed. Three pink posted notes were stuck to the screen of my computer, and my phone chimed two reminders about upcoming meetings despite it being Saturday. Christmas was around the corner. It was a busy period for C&G with the Christmas song releases and gigs on the agenda for most of our stars.

  I hadn’t done anything productive since I entered the office at seven o’clock in the morning, arriving earlier than James. There was no point in staying home. I hadn’t slept all night, and in the morning, the quiet house proved the perfect setting for my racing thoughts.

  I hoped to dial down the questions and my screaming mind if I could keep busy with work, but the office was just as quiet as my house.

  Nadia and Chase were at the centre of my attention for the last sixteen hours. Jealousy tried to chew its way through and out of my brain the same way that annoying hangover-beetle did. Thankfully, neither jealousy nor protectiveness were fans of Justin Bieber.

  I stayed at Nick’s and Mel’s until midnight. I wouldn’t admit to it out loud, but I was waiting for Nadia to come back. Chrissy got bored and annoyed around nine o’clock and headed home with Scorpio and Jane. Whatever. I was too busy checking my phone, checking the driveway and pacing the room to focus on a single sentence that came out of her mouth.

  The party finished around ten, but I stayed behind, clutching a glass of vodka I barely had a few sips from all night and staring in the direction of the hallway, willing Nadia to come home already so I could make sure she was okay.

  “Why are you so annoyed?” Nick asked. “You thought you could parade Chrissy around Nadia, and she would just smile along?”

  “I’m not annoyed that she went out with Chase.”

  Annoyed would be an understatement. I was fucking livid.

  “I’m annoyed because that punk had two beers and then however many shots, and he took the wheel with Nadia as the passenger.”

  Nick scoffed. “I don’t get why you lie to my face. Tell me you love her, but you can’t forgive her. Tell me you hate her for leaving. Tell me anything, just stop making shit up, alright?”

  So that you can find ten valid, incontestable reasons that I should forgive her? Thanks, but no thanks.

  My father used to say that if you give someone your phone, and get it back in pieces, you won’t trust them with it again… Why would you give your heart to someone who already broke it once?

  You wouldn’t unless you enjoyed pain.

  I sure didn’t.

  Instead of arguing with Nick, I headed home to stare at the ceiling in my bedroom, imagining my girl with another guy.

  Fuck. Rewind.

  Imagining Nadia with another guy.

  This shit was getting scary.

  Anyway, shortly after eleven, Nick arrived at work. He kindly peeked into my office to put my mind at ease.

  “She came back in one piece,” he clipped, turning to leave.

  “Alone?”

  Nick looked over his shoulder with a scowl. “I thought you didn’t care she went out with Chase, just that he was drunk driving.”

  My jaw clenched. “Do you want me get work done today or not?”

  “He brought her back home at four a.m. and left…”

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “… but he picked her up again at half eight.”

  The door closed behind him. I banged my hands on the desk. Three, two, one. The paperwork flew halfway across the room.

  I went around full circle, and I was once again losing it.

  Losing it over a girl.

  Fuck this shit!

  ***

  Needless to say, I stayed in my office until late afternoon but did fuck all. Sometime around four o’clock, long after Nick headed home—part timer right there—James entered my office with a bothered expression.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  Please do.

  I was hitting a brand new low if I needed James to get a five-minute break from thinking about Nadia.

  “I just spoke to the security,” he continued. “It looks like we had a break-in last night.”

  “A break-in?” I clipped, raking my hand through my hair. “How come I only find out about this now?! Is anything missing?”

  James’s shoulders sagged. He took a step back. “Well, not a break-in per se. It was an inside job if you will. Nothing was stolen. It’s just that one of the band members, Chase, entered the building with boss’s sister at two o’clock in the morning. They spent almost two hours in studio number three, singing and drinking tequila.”

  A tingling sensation, and not the good kind, started in my chest, then spread in all directions. They were here? Alone? In the middle of the fucking night? Drinking, singing and…

  “I want to see the footage,” I seethed, steam coming out of my ears.

  Self-destructive, much?

  Spying on them wasn’t a good idea. I had a hard time thinking straight knowing they spent the night together. Seeing what they did wasn’t going to make things easier. What if he touched her? What if he kissed her? I sure as fuck wouldn’t be able to stomach that.

  James approached the desk and placed a small USB stick on the keyboard of my laptop. He retreated without a word, stiff as a board, one foot after the other in a rushed step. He must have sensed my composure wearing thin. He worked here since the start and was well accustomed with my temper tantrums.

  I plugged the stick into the USB port. A litany of swear words left my mouth when I realised the cameras inside the building didn’t record sound. Although come to think of it, maybe it was for the best.

  They entered the build
ing at thirteen past two am. Chase rushed Nadia through the corridors, holding her hand, their fingers interlocked.

  A tingling sensation started in my spine; my palms balled into fists. Nadia’s hands were mine to hold.

  Deep breaths, Thomas. Deep breaths. In and out. Better?

  Fucking peachy.

  I had never seen Nadia tipsy, but she definitely was last night, rushing behind Chase and stumbling over her feet more than once. My hands grew damp when Chase backed Nadia against the wall in the recording studio. It looked like they bickered about who was going to sing first, but the way he crowded her space was all too intimate. His hands rested flat on the wall on both sides of her head. He leaned forward; no more than an inch parted their faces.

  No more than an inch parted their lips.

  My pulse was everywhere. A whooshing sound started in my ears. I gripped the screen of my laptop, ready to throw it across the room if he dared to kiss her. I knew he wanted to. It was clear in his stance. Possessiveness spilled under my skin like a contusion.

  Nadia pushed him away, rolled her eyes and entered the recording booth with a smile. She rested her bum on the tall stool in front of the microphone, adjusting the height to suit her five feet and not many inches. When she opened her mouth, the lack of sound was no longer a good thing. I wanted to hear her sing. I didn’t even know she could sing.

  For an hour, I watched them interact, swap places and laugh. Every time Chase got too close to Nadia, I tensed so hard the muscles in my shoulders cramped painfully.

  It was a fucking torture; a disaster waiting to happen.

  There was no guessing what my first reaction would be if he kissed her, but the end result was easy to predict—two black eyes and possibly a broken nose, too.

  The screen turned black one hour and forty minutes later. I breathed a sigh of relief. They didn’t kiss, but she was cheerful around him. The ground was slipping from under my feet. I grabbed my jacket and almost ran out of the building then sped across the city.

  Nadia couldn’t see that sorry-ass guitarist anymore. He wasn’t good enough for her. She deserved better. It was my duty as a friend to tell her that she was making a mistake spending time with Chase.

  It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact I was jealous. Nothing. None whatsoever.

  Amelia walked out of the kitchen when I barged into their house twenty minutes later. A tight, green dress accentuated her curves, making her red hair and don’t-fuck-with-me attitude pop.

  “What do you want, Thomas?” she huffed. “Nadia’s not here.”

  “Where is she?”

  For his sake, it would be better if she weren’t with Chase.

  “Shouldn’t you be concerned about Chrissy’s whereabouts?” Venom dripped from every one of Mel’s words. “You moved on. Great, now stop messing with Nadia’s head. Leave her alone.”

  My fists clenched, but I swallowed pride, hanging my jacket on the coat hanger. The thing I liked about Amelia most was her honesty. She wasn’t one to act nice for the sake of being nice. She called it as she saw it, and I needed that right now.

  “Change of sides,” I said, my arms crossed over my chest. “I see. Fine, I get it. Just remember she left me, not the other way around. Don’t try to dump this mess on my head.”

  Amelia mimicked my stance, crossing her arms. “Yeah, she did leave. I understand why you’re trying to forget about her, but it’s not working. You act like you don’t care, but you’re here whether she needs you or not. You can’t stay away from her, Thomas.”

  She came closer, looking like she was ready to hit me, but instead, more brutally honest words poured out of her mouth. What Nick said was true—Amelia was one hell of a woman. She fought hard for people she loved, no matter the consequences and no matter the pain that her words inflicted. She knew where to hit to hurt the most.

  “You’re too proud to forgive her, because how dare she leave you, right? How dare she go through hell to save someone she once cared about! How fucking dare she be so selfless!” She threw her hands in the air, her face red, chest heaving. “But sure, you’re hurt so you can rub Chrissy in her face, because why not? You’re allowed to make Nadia feel like shit after all she’s done to you.”

  Kick me, why don’t you?

  “Nadia doesn’t care about Chrissy.”

  A look of utter disbelief crossed Mel’s face. “Wow,” she mouthed. “Stop acting stupid. You’re not. You’re just cruel. Why do you think she packed her bags this morning? She moved back to her apartment so that she doesn’t have to see you.”

  I rested my back on the wall, gawking at the floor while Mel’s words bounced in my head, hitting all the nerves. Shame mixed with annoyance, pissing me off that much more, because Amelia was right. I loved Nadia, and I was hurt. I couldn’t fucking imagine getting back together with her. I also couldn’t imagine not seeing her whenever I wanted, or worse—seeing her with someone else.

  “Have you not seen her meltdown?” I spat out, focusing on the facts. “Who do you think that was about? She still loves Adrian. I won’t watch the psychopath take her away from me again.”

  “He won’t. She spoke to him a few days back, and…”

  “She what?!” My jaw clenched; teeth gnashed.

  Why? Why was Nadia so irrational? Was there something wrong with her survival instincts? She sure didn’t seem to have any.

  “Ty called,” Mel began, and entered the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow. “Adrian jumped out of the second floor and made a run for the payphone because the doctors wouldn’t let him call Nadia, and he wanted to apologise. Ty found some fancy and—by the sound of it—a bit dodgy psychiatric rehab facility of some sort, but Adrian refused to be admitted until he spoke to Nadia.” She took a bottle of wine from the cupboard. “None of that matters, really,” she continued, handing me a glass filled to the brim. “What does is that she’s still here even though she knows Adrian tried to kill himself. She told him he has to get better for himself because she’s not a part of his life anymore.”

  I took Mel outside so that I could have a smoke. We sat on the fallen bough, arm in arm, wine in hand. Amelia was beyond pissed off, but she was also worried. Her best friend went through one of the worst things a man can put a woman through, and it was hard on Amelia. It was hard on us all, but between me, Nick and Mel, she was the one who could relate to Nadia most, even if it was only because she was a woman.

  A single tear rolled down her cheek, and I wrapped my hand over her shoulders pulling her to my side. The patio door slid open moments later. Nick cleared his throat, gawking at me while I held Mel in a tight embrace.

  “That’s my wife,” he said. The stern tone ruined by a cheeky smile. “Get your own.”

  Amelia moved away, drinking the last of her wine. “Yeah, just so he can divorce her the moment she makes one mistake? Oh, wait, no court would grant a divorce based on she made a mistake.”

  “Subtle,” I said.

  “You hoped I’d congratulate you on the inability to forgive one mistake? I mean, she didn’t cheat on you…”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She chuckled, patting my shoulder. “I knew you two slept together the very next morning. There’s nothing I don’t know about Nadia, Thomas. Believe me.” She got up, walking away toward the house, but turned around with her hand on the handle. “At least be a man and tell her she should forget about you.”

  Should she, though? Could I watch her with another guy now or ten years from now? Would I ever stop feeling protective and possessive? It had been four months—long enough to stop loving someone I spent a few weeks with, but I was nowhere near falling out of love.

  Amelia went back inside, leaving me with Nick. I expected him to take Mel’s approach and twist the knife even more.

  “Don’t worry about Amelia. Do what you think is best. I mean, I do want you to work things out with Nadia, but at the end of the day, you’re the one who’ll have to live with your choices.”

&
nbsp; Nick came a long way from throwing punches at my face to wishing I would forgive Nadia. It was a true testament to how much she changed me from a careless playboy to a guy capable of loving and taking care of her in less than two months.

  “I need to see her,” I said.

  My mind wasn’t set on anything yet. I wasn’t sure what my next step should be, but I had to see her face, hear her voice and tell her that seeing Chase was a stupid idea. The Mishaps were about to become the next big thing. It was just a matter of time before he would start sleeping around with his fans, enjoying the life of a young musician.

  I drove over to Nadia’s apartment and spent ten minutes in the car, gawking at the apartment windows. I couldn’t cope without her, but all my instincts rebelled against forgiving her as if shielding me from pain she could bring upon me sometime in the future. I exited the car, leaning over the hood, a cigarette in between my lips. The air was damp, and the clouds of smoke lingered in the low temperature. A man with a German Shepherd walked across the street, glancing over his shoulders a few times, eyeing up my car.

  Nadia’s apartment was tucked out of the way in a one-way street. The traffic there was non-existent, and some streetlamps weren’t working. A convenience store down the road was the brightest spot on the dark street. I butted the cigarette on the curb, and failing to talk myself out of seeing her, I made my way inside the building.

  Nadia stood in front of the long mirror in the hallway, painting her lips a juicy red colour. She tucked a grey, knitted sweater into a short, flared skirt, the outfit cute and girly if not for the grey, over the knee boots which made her look too desirable.

  Pyro by Kings of Leon played from the speaker—a band I long forgot until the night Nadia came back to London. A sweet and tangy smell of Nadia’s perfumes, a mixture of bergamot and lily of the valley, filled the air. She didn’t flinch when I entered the apartment without knocking and leaned against the wall, by the mirror, openly staring.

  There are as many definitions of beauty as there are men on the planet. Nadia wasn’t beautiful. She was gorgeous. Everything about her drew me in: full lips; big eyes; the way she stood, frowned, and smelled.