“Want to try some?” Michael asks, breaking me out of my deep thoughts. He’s holding up a spoon in one hand whilst holding his other hand below it to capture any that might spill. I quickly scoot off my stool and walk towards him, bending down to have a taste. He places the spoon in my mouth, the tomato and herbs instantly hitting my senses.
“Hmm, that tastes good.”
Michael smiles, placing the spoon down then stepping forward, wiping the side of my mouth with his thumb. He hovers at my lips, a moment that is far too intimate. I step back, clearing my throat.
“I bet Tarryn loves having you around,” I say, reminding him of his girlfriend. “You’re quite the cook.”
“I broke up with her a couple of days after we got back.”
Although this shouldn’t surprise me, it still does. “Was it because of what we discussed?”
He seems sad as he answers. “Yes and no. Part of the reason I did it was so that I could see if I’d miss her enough to want her back. Sounds cruel, but considering I’m here now and not with her answers my question.”
I nod my head, and he asks me to take a seat so he can serve up. We chat about random shit as we sit and eat together, the setting so ordinary it makes for a refreshing change. Afterwards, I insist on at least washing up as Michael enjoys a glass of wine. I have my back to him as I do the dishes, and I can feel the burn of his eyes on me. When I’m finished, I turn, surprised to find him standing right behind me. He steps forward, his eyes darting towards my lips. He licks his own and then bends down, his mouth parting ever so slightly. I just stand there, still as a rock, unable to piece together what the fuck’s going on. He darts his tongue out, trying to coax my mouth open, his hand caressing the side of my face. The moment is so tender and so sweet that for a few precious seconds I let myself get lost. Then flashes of Charlie flit through my mind, shocking me to the core. I step back, completely disgusted with myself for even letting him get as far as he did. What’s wrong with me? Seriously?! It’s like I have a self-destruct button that I like to press on an everyday basis.
“Stop!” I snap, finally managing to get the words out that I should have said two seconds ago. “What are you doing?”
He steps back, shock evident on his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I saw you there washing the dishes, and the more I watched you, the more I wanted to kiss you.”
“But… Chris… how could you?” And then I gasp, realisation hitting me like a ton of bricks when it dawns on me that the only person who flit through my mind and made me stop the kiss was… Charlie.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It’s the alcohol and the nice company. It all felt… natural.”
“I think you’d better leave.” I clutch onto the kitchen counter, my breathing heavy, anger now setting in. Have I got “do anything you want to me” written across my forehead or something?
Shit, I’m a bad person. A fucked up, impulsive person who seems intent on sabotaging myself and anyone else who comes remotely close to me.
“Okay, I’ll leave. I’m sorry, Bri. Please don’t say anything to Chris. He’ll kill me.”
Anxiety shines through his eyes as he pleads with me. I nod my head as who am I to judge? I’ve already cheated on Chris, so I can hardly take the moral high ground.
“Thanks.” He breathes out his relief and steps back. “I’ll erm… I’ll get going then.” I simply nod again, watching as he turns to leave when his head butts into the barrel of a gun.
“Chris,” I whisper, fear creeping up my spine at the palpable anger pouring over him. All of which is solely directed towards Michael.
“You think you can get me drunk and high just so you can make a pass at my woman, is that it?”
He’s wobbly on his feet, his eyes glazed over from the booze and whatever else is in his system. I’m surprised he’s even managed to get up, never mind walk the distance from the bedroom to here.
“No, no,” Michael pleads, his hands out in surrender. “It was just a moment of weakness. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
I’m just about to argue in Michael’s defence, hoping to calm Chris down so that he’ll take the fucking gun away from Michael’s head when he pulls the fucking trigger.
Blood splatters across the kitchen, coating the white cabinets in splashes of red. Michael seems to stand forever, his dead eyes fixed on Chris. Then finally his legs give out, and his body collapses in a heap on the floor, his eyes open wide and his mouth parted in shock.
I attempt a scream, but the sound gets lodged in my throat. My hands begin to tremble and my head dizzies, making the room spin. “Chris, what the fuck have you done?” My breathing is heavy, my heart beating a million miles an hour. All he did was try to kiss me!
In my panic, I glance back at Chris, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I walk past the table to try and find him, but he’s passed out on the floor, gun clutched in his hand.
“What. The. Actual. Fuck!” I boom out to the room, even though there’s no one to hear me.
What in the hell am I supposed to do now? I feel like I’m living in some fucked up Groundhog Day world where my day is on repeat, only this day is filled with dead bodies.
For a moment I stand still, unable to comprehend what’s happened here. Chris has always been a little impulsive, but this has taken things too far. Way too fucking far.
I groan, wiping the sweat forming on my brow. I can’t stand here all night. I need to do something. I gather myself together before I pull the gun from Chris’s hand, placing it on the display cabinet. Very awkwardly, I pull his slumped frame out from the cold, hard kitchen and onto the softer living room carpet. Once he's firmly out of the kitchen doorway, I grab a cushion and place it under his head. I snatch the biggest towels I can find and walk back into the kitchen, placing them under Michael’s head to soak up some of the blood. I make the mistake of looking into his dead eyes, and it sets the waterworks off, my mind reeling and my heart racing. I then get to work, trying to soak up as much of the blood as I possibly can before I eventually collapse in a heap on the living room floor, my eyes fixed on Chris’s sleeping frame. Again, so peaceful and angelic, one would never imagine he just shot one of his closest friends dead.
Pulling the chain around my neck out from my jumper, I clutch onto the key, my heart desperate more than ever to run away. My mind conjures up scenes of what that would look like. I would grab that bag of money and passport, and I would get on a plane, flying wherever the first flight would take me. No dark thoughts surrounding me, no Chris to keep me down. Just me and hopefully the open waves. I close my eyes and dream I’m laying on a beach somewhere, sand sifting through my toes. An escape from everything.
As I’m laying on the beach, a hand reaches out and grabs mine. I glance towards the source to find Charlie beside me with only a pair of swimming shorts and dark shades on. He smiles at me tenderly, and my heart soars and races with nothing but love. For a few precious moments, I am there. For a few precious moments, I am euphoric.
But then I open my eyes and they land on Chris again. I tilt my head to the side, gazing at his innocent face. For the briefest of moments, I wonder if that dream of mine could actually come true. I could ask Charlie to run away with me, build a whole new life together, but I know it will never happen. One, Chris would eventually find me, and I don’t even want to imagine the fallout once he did. And two, it would devastate Chris. No matter his actions tonight, I could never do that to him.
So I just sit slumped by the wall in the living room and just stare, acutely aware that there’s a body laid spread-eagle on our kitchen floor. I have no idea how Chris is going to handle this when he wakes up. Hell, will he even remember doing it?
“Shit, Chris,” I say, my voice a whisper. “What have you done?”
At some point past four in the morning, I fell asleep. The sounds of Chris groaning rouse me, and when I open my eyes, Chris is sat up, rubbing his head. At first, I wonder why we’re both sleeping on the floor
, but then I remember. I don’t say or do anything, just wait until Chris finds his bearings. His head jolts around the room until eventually his bleary, red eyes land on me, his forehead crumpled in confusion.
“What are you doing over there?” he croaks out, clearing his throat.
“You mean you don’t remember?”
“Remember what?” he asks, groaning again, an attempt at standing up feeble as he lands back down on the floor with a loud thump, clutching his head with a moan.
I should be concerned about Chris’s reaction when he sees his best friend dead on the floor at his own hands, but right now, after witnessing him killing him for simply kissing me added to the exhaustion I feel from the last twenty-hour’s events—quite frankly—I’m past caring.
“Go take a look in the kitchen.”
I watch as he struggles to get to his feet, my mind telling me I should care more, but my heart has just given up. I’m tired. So fucking tired. He’s obviously still drunk, high, or both. Despite my bum being numb, I stay seated and watch as he eventually gets up, stumbles, and then grabs the doorframe for support.
“Fuck, my head,” he groans, his hand wiping over his face.
I want to shout that he only has himself to blame, that because of his antics with drugs and alcohol it’s now led to the most serious of consequences. But still, I remain silent, just watching… waiting.
Eventually, he gets a hold of himself enough to open the kitchen door. It swings behind him once he disappears, then it doesn’t take long before the silence is interrupted.
“Fucking hell!”
I hear the sound of crashing pots then him retching his guts out. That’s when I decide to get up, rubbing my arse to try and send blood flowing back into my cheeks. I push the kitchen door open, finding Chris hunched over the sink, the water flowing from the tap as he washes his mouth out, groaning.
“Has it all come back to you now?” I ask, surprising myself at how calm I’m being.
Already, it’s starting to stink in here, no doubt from Michael releasing all his bodily fluids shortly after death. Glancing down at him, I see that livor mortis is starting to set in; his skin is turning a purple colour, and his eyes are blackening over. Pretty soon, he will enter the rigor mortis stage, and that’s when it will become difficult to move his body.
“What the fuck’s going on, Bri?”
“I take that as a no then,” I whisper under my breath, my attempt at remaining calm surprisingly withholding.
Chris turns the water off, looking at me, his mouth parted in shock. “How can you be so calm? Michael’s fucking dead! Did someone break into the flat? Did they hurt you?”
I let out a deep breath, exhaustion kicking in tenfold. I should shield him from the pain of knowing, but right now, I just don’t give a fuck. Because seriously? What has Michael ever done other than be with us? Care for us? Love us? Be loyal to us? And the icing on the cake for him… He wanted us to want him in return. Was that really so much of him to ask?
“The person you’re looking for is you.”
An angry, confused frown surfaces, causing me to sigh my frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I snap my finger to Michael’s body, my anger levels rising. “You fucking did this, Chris. Nobody broke in, nobody crashed into our flat and shot Michael. It was all you!”
Closing his eyes, he pinches his nose and shakes his head. “I don’t understand. Why would I do that?”
I seriously can’t believe he doesn’t remember. “Because he kissed me!” I shout. “You came in here, saw him try to kiss me, and you fucking shot him!”
His eyes widen as the memory dawns on him.
“Now it’s coming back to you, huh? You immediately passed out the moment you pulled the trigger, leaving me to clean up all the blood. I couldn’t move his body myself, so sorry about that,” I sneer, throwing my hands up in the air.
“Don’t get flippant with me. We need to figure something out here,” he snaps, throwing his hand towards Michael.
“We?” I ask, my voice rising an octave. “There’s no we in this scenario, Chris. This is all on you to figure out. You shot him, you deal with him.”
I turn to walk out when what he says halts me in my tracks. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been at work.”
And there it is. The blame is all on me just because I won’t stay at home, be the dutiful wife, and look after him when he decides he wants to do shots at eight in the fucking morning!
I turn back around, my eyes filling with angry tears, but I refuse to shed any. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot. It’s my fault. Of course it is! Your actions are always my fault. I should have remembered that part.”
I walk out of the kitchen, hearing a loud crash behind me, but I ignore it, head held high as I walk to the shower.
As I get dressed, Chris is on the phone telling whomever’s on the other line that he needs a huge favour. Fuck knows who he’s calling, considering Kane, Larry, and Andrew are friends with Michael. They will never understand why Chris shot him. Not in a million years. I’m guessing it’s one of his lower drugs runners. Someone he can pay off that won’t blab a word. And at the end of the day, Chris will no doubt offer them a promotion in the ranks too. The whole thing makes me sick to my stomach.
I don’t say a word as I grab my keys and head for the door, but an arm pulling me back halts me from leaving. Chris spins me around, his face a lot softer, the colour starting to come back to his cheeks after throwing up earlier.
“I’m sorry I was a jerk earlier. I just found out I shot my friend, and it was all too much to take in. He shouldn’t have fucking kissed you, though.”
I can’t believe he’s seriously trying to justify his actions. “Chris, it was just that. A kiss. It was certainly not worth ending his life over.”
His jaw tics, his leg twitching with nerves and pent up rage. “And if you hadn’t stopped it? What then? You seriously think he would have stopped?” Already knowing the answer, I turn my head away. “I thought so.”
“It still wasn’t worth killing him over.”
The first sign of guilt flits across his face, his eyes lowering to the ground. Normally this would be the moment I would take him into my arms, stroke his hair, and tell him everything will be okay, that all is forgiven. However, this time it’s different. This time, he’s gone way over the line.
“My nerves are getting the best of me lately, what with the Bilkos and holding up a shipment of drugs in a warehouse where I can’t shift it fast enough without raising questions. If Frosty wasn’t always breathing down my fucking neck, it wouldn’t be such of an issue.”
I hold my hand up to him. “I really don’t want to hear anymore. The less I know, the better, remember?”
He smiles, turning on the boyish charm. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve already gotten you involved enough as it is. Go to work, and when you come back it will be as if all that went down here last night was just a bad dream.”
I nod my head, knowing all too well that this nightmare I’m living is never, ever going to end.
Driving away from my apartment block, all thoughts of last night disappear as I concentrate on Charlie. I’m desperate to find out how he went on last night, and if he’s okay. Two lives have now ended because of me. Although that thought is in my mind, I haven’t fully processed it yet.
I lock up my car behind me and start to walk around to the front of the shop. My mind is whirling, my body about ready to collapse from lack of sleep. I’m in a world of my own, so I fail to hear the calling of my name at first.
“Bri!” Charlie shouts, causing me to halt in my tracks. I turn to the back door where he’s standing, and when my eyes meet his, he smiles, causing my heart to light up. The past twenty-four hours of hell wash away with that simple smile.
“Come through this way for a change.”
I bite my lip at the small gesture that means so much to me. When I get within reaching distance
, Charlie pulls me in, closing the door behind us. I’m in his arms in the next instant, my body immediately relaxing in his warm embrace.
“You don’t realise just how much I need this right now,” I murmur into his chest. He squeezes me harder to him, offering me a bit more, and I gladly take it. I’ll take all I can get because it’s moments like these where I can take a snapshot of these memories and lock them tightly in my box of something good.
Selfishly, I grip onto him for several seconds before my conscience finally makes me pull away. “How are you?” I ask, this being my number one priority.
His caramel eyes search mine, the illumination causing a flurry of activity in the pit of my belly.
“Happy that you don’t have to deal with your uncle anymore.”
A little crinkle forms at the top of my forehead. “Are you not uptight and anxious about killing someone?”
He doesn’t say a word, just stares into my eyes, conveying a message. This isn’t his first killing.
Of course it isn’t. How stupid of me. His lightening reflexes and the way he casually grabbed Pete’s neck and snapped it without a care in the world should have given me those clues last night.
“You really think I’m going to lose sleep over that scumbag? You were wronged when you were younger, Bri, and now it’s time to set that straight.”
I smirk at that, my heart skipping a beat. “Are you trying to say you’re my guardian angel?”
He chuckles lightly. “It would be a nice job to have.”
I check my watch, noting it’s well past nine already. “I best get to work, otherwise my boss will tear me a new one.”
Charlie sniggers, letting me go, and the whole journey through the hallway, I’m smiling like an idiot. Strange to think that a few seconds of a cuddle can lift the spirits and switch your mood entirely. Charlie’s cuddles are the best, so it’s not surprising.
I drop my bag and sit on my stool, working through the mail that Charlie’s already placed on the counter. I’m a few minutes into opening the mail when someone attempts to come in, but of course, the door’s locked. I run to the door, unlocking it and open it to a young lady standing outside, the wind whipping at her coat.
Tainted Love Page 21
