Give Me Hell

by Kate McCarthy

  My phone rings, the sound faint from inside my handbag. I ignore it and kick at the door from frustration. It rings again.

  “Goddammit,” I growl and reach for it, walking away.

  Casey’s name is on the screen, along with an image of him giving me the finger. My friends did that one night when I was sleeping. They hacked my phone and edited my contacts, adding an image to their individual profiles of them flipping the middle finger to the camera. My brothers, Evie, Henry, and Quinn. Even the band, including Jake. I had to give them credit for that. It was funny, especially when I got a call from Dad and they’d managed to get him in on it too.

  “Hotdog,” I answer, putting the phone to my ear as I jog down the front steps.

  “Mac Attack,” he replies. “Need you.”

  I start toward our duplex on the other side. “What’s up?”

  “The party tonight. Grace won’t sit down. She needs to rest and I can’t do it all on my—”

  “Say no more,” I interrupt as I reach my own front door. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “May God grant you a thousand of the best orgasms of your life,” he replies and hangs up.

  Using the key, I let myself inside. “Anyone home?”

  No one calls back as I close the door behind me.

  I shower quickly and plan my outfit as I massage a facial scrub over my cheeks and forehead. When I’m out, I dry off. After wrapping my hair up in my towel, I tug on the sexiest underwear I own. Black lace, demi cup bra and a thong so tiny I may as well be wearing dental floss on my butt crack.

  After that, I slide on tight black pants. Horizontal zippers decorate the front and the back. My top is a fitted leather vest that zips upward into a low-cut V and pushes my breasts up and together to create some much-needed cleavage. I complete the look with sleek hair, heavy, dark eyes, nude lips, and strappy black stilettos. The whole process leaves me feeling battle ready.

  With no one home, I call an uber and get assigned ‘Louise.’ She arrives in ten minutes. I open the car door to a driver who looks no older than ten. “Are you Louise? How old are you?” I ask as I slide inside the passenger seat.

  I don’t hear her answer because everything blacks out for a moment.

  “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

  My breath comes with conscious effort as waves of nausea roll over me. “I’m fine,” I say, buckling my seat belt.

  We zoom off into the street but panic begins to creep in. It’s okay, I tell myself in a cool voice. You haven’t eaten today. That’s all it is.

  My breathing eases a little but the nausea does not.

  I’m not pregnant. I’m just exhausted.

  We’re halfway to Casey’s loft when I spot a pharmacy looming ahead. There’s only one way to be sure. “Stop the car,” I bark.

  “What? Here?” Her tone is confused but she pulls over, parking by the kerb.

  “I just need to—” My stomach heaves, and I gesture at the building we’ve stopped in front of. “Be right back.”

  JAKE

  Casey’s loft is a crush of people by the time I arrive. My eyes seek Mac the moment I step through the door. She’s standing in the kitchen, talking and laughing with Coby, Evie’s brother. The craving sets in with a steady thump thump thump. Everyone is dressed in varying shades of colour, and she’s all in black. The effect is dark and sexy, like Satan’s blonde mistress. Her green eyes flicker my way as if she feels my stare.

  You’re so beautiful.

  I draw air deep inside my lungs. They expand, my chest rising.

  Be strong, asshole.

  I force a distant expression, turn away, and exhale with care. Moving through the living area, I spy Henry in conversation with Cooper and Frog. I come up from behind and slap him on the back.

  “Hey,” he says, half turning.

  I steal his beer and take a long pull before joining in their conversation. After about ten minutes, Henry leans in, speaking in a low voice. “Have you seen Mac tonight?”

  “Yes.” I look for her again and catch her watching me, her eyes pained. She knows I’m avoiding her. If she didn’t get the hint at the duplex, she knows it now. I don’t know what it was that brought her to my door this afternoon but pride will stop her from approaching me again. At least tonight. And after that it will be too late.

  “Why?” I ask Henry.

  “Because she doesn’t look so good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mac sick before. She’s always seems so invincible, but tonight …”

  Mac turns away when someone steals her attention, and I study her face. Henry is right. Faint shadows line her eyes, and the golden hue to her skin appears faded. Her health doesn’t appear to have improved since our return from tour. I abandon all sense of self-preservation and start toward her.

  When I reach her in the kitchen, Mac is holding an arm across her belly, as if she’s moments away from puking all over the timber floor. She watches my approach with wary eyes.

  “Princess?”

  The endearment slips out. Dammit.

  “I’m not your princess,” she snaps, tension gathering in her slight frame.

  My jaw grinds. I get it. Mac humbled herself earlier today. Her desperate “please” still echoes in my head.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She’s not fine. Her movements are jerky as she twists the lid off a beer and thrusts it at me. I ignore it, instead studying her face. My eyes drop to her mouth when she bites down on her bottom lip. Thump thump thump goes my craving. I can’t even be around her for even a minute without wanting to push her up against a wall and fuck her until the hunger eases. But it never does.

  “Take the stupid beer,” she growls, seeing the heat gathering in my eyes.

  I huff and snatch it from her, setting it on the kitchen counter beside us.

  “Mac, I …” I look away, swallowing, and rub a hand over the short buzz of hair on my head. Am I making a mistake by leaving? My shoulders sag. What choice do I have? My voice hardens as I face her again. “We need to move on. Build some distance. I can’t be around you …”

  Because it wears me down.

  Her eyes close and the bitterness of heartache folds me up in its cold embrace. I cup her jaw before I can help myself. The touch is everything. For one brief moment we’re connected and everything feels okay. But it’s all an illusion.

  My hand slides away and her eyes flicker open. “You’re right. We need to move on.”

  MAC

  Present Day…

  I’m heaving into the porcelain bowl. My stomach cramps and purges but there’s nothing left. I’m an empty husk of my former self.

  The bathroom door opens quietly. I don’t hear it, but I do hear, “Jesus, babe. You okay? How much did you have to drink?”

  It’s Kelly, come to see me brought low. He sits on the edge of the bathtub and rubs my back in slow circles that are oddly soothing. “Nothing,” I moan, positive I’m about to die. How are women expected to survive this?

  The door opens again and someone else steps in. This makes me happy because there’s nothing I want more right now than a budding audience to witness my torture.

  “Kelly. Come here often?” It’s Grace. There’s irony in her voice because she was sick earlier tonight, and Casey’s brother found himself nursing her through it too.

  There’s a long pause.

  “Shit,” Kelly mutters.

  “You’re pregnant,” Grace breathes in utter shock.

  They’ve found the test resting on the bathroom vanity. The one I purchased on the Uber drive here.

  Kelly snatches his hand from my back as if he just discovered I have leprosy. Newsflash, biker dude, pregnancy is not contagious. I want to voice the catty remark, but I simply can’t. All I can do is hold tight to the porcelain bowl and pray my end will come swiftly.

  “Who’s the father?” he demands.

  I lean back, using the backs of my hands to swipe at the ghastly mascara tracks on m
y cheeks. Kelly and Grace both stare and the weight of it is too much. “Jake,” I rasp, my voice hoarse from puking. “It’s Jake.”

  Of course it’s him. It’s always been him. Asshead.

  I swallow as my revelation sinks in. For the first time in my life, I feel I’ve lost all direction. I’m having a baby.

  “Are you okay?” Grace asks me softly.

  “No,” I choke out and then notice her face is as pale as the frosty paint on the walls. “Did I wake you?”

  She shakes her head. “Your phone did.” Grace plucks it from the pocket of her blue silk pyjama pants. Her brows furrow on the screen before she holds it out toward me. “Henry has rung you three times.”

  Kelly snatches the phone before I can reach for it. It rings immediately in his hand. He hits the green button and puts the device to his ear, using his other hand to bat away my feeble attempts to snatch it from him.

  “This is Daniels,” he answers.

  I can hear Henry’s voice but can’t make out what he’s saying.

  “She’s right here beside me,” Kelly says into the phone.

  He pauses as Henry speaks.

  “No you can’t talk to her. She’s not well.”

  “Put her on,” Henry roars loud enough for me to hear. And Henry never roars.

  Kelly offers me the phone. “Your friend is a dick.”

  “I heard that,” Henry says as I put the phone to my ear.

  “All men are dicks, Hussy,” I tell him, my voice rougher than sandpaper. “You know this.”

  “Well your man is the biggest dick of all.”

  “He’s not my man,” I retort, sagging into the side of the bathtub behind me. “And why is it you rang me a thousand times to tell me something I already know?”

  Henry huffs sharply. “To tell you that he’s gone.”

  “He’s gone?” My fuddled mind tries to make sense of what he’s saying. “Who’s gone?”

  “Jake.”

  “Gone where?”

  “I don’t know where!” A muffled thunk sounds through the phone as if Henry’s kicked an empty box clear across the room. “He rang, saying he was quitting the band and leaving.”

  Denial shuts me down. “He’s not leaving. He’s just having a tantrum.”

  “He rang me from the road!” Henry shouts with frustration. “I checked next door. All his clothes are gone.”

  My stomach rebels with horror, and the phone slips from my fingers. “Mac?” Henry calls out. “Mac?”

  I lean over the toilet bowl, blinded with fear. “Oh Jesus,” I breathe. “Not again.”

  “Mac, are you okay?” Grace’s soft palm lightly grasps my shoulder.

  Kelly must have picked up my phone because I can hear him talking behind me.

  “Jake’s gone,” I squeeze out as my belly heaves.

  Not again.

  Not.

  Again.

  He pushed me away once when I was pregnant. And now it’s happening all over again. He’s leaving again. I can’t do this. I literally cannot do this again.

  “Mac, breathe.” My lungs expel a huge rush of air at Kelly’s command. “Pull yourself together.”

  “Kelly,” I hear Grace rebuke.

  “She’s spiralling.”

  He’s right though. I am spiralling. This is not me. I don’t spiral. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. I’m the tough. It doesn’t get any tougher than me.

  My eyes blink open as a sense of purpose fills me. I scramble to my feet in an awkward, clumsy motion. Hands reach out to steady me and I bat them away. A brief check in the mirror confirms I’m still a mess. My hair is tousled, my smoky eye-makeup is smudged and my face pale. But I don’t care. All I care about right now is getting to Jake. I stare at my reflection, my mind racing. There’s only one way to catch him before he disappears from my life completely, and only one way I can pull it off.

  Gathering what little strength I have, I race from the bathroom.

  “Mac!” Kelly shouts. I don’t stop and turn. I also don’t notice his older brother, Casey, emerging from his bedroom in wild, shirtless glory, asking, “What the hell is going on?” in a raspy voice.

  I head straight for the bowl. The very one all partygoers had to put their keys into at the start of the party early last night. One set remains. The keys to Kelly’s Harley.

  What I’m about to do will likely get me killed, but I have no choice.

  I grab them.

  “Oh hell no!” Kelly bellows with a thunder so mighty the walls shake and windows rattle.

  There’s no time to look back. My legs move of their own accord, adrenaline giving me speed. I open the door of the loft and I’m out, running down the hallway toward the exit. Waiting for the elevator is suicide. I hit the stairs, somehow capable of flight despite moments earlier feeling weaker than cooked spaghetti. My breath comes fast and my hair flies out behind me as I leap to the bottom landing. My feet hit with a bone-jarring thud that causes my teeth to clunk, but I don’t stop.

  “Babe, stop or die!” Kelly shouts behind me, so close the threat feels like whiplash.

  I’m out the door and hitting the pavement before he catches me. My bicep is grabbed with a mighty grip. I turn and swing on instinct with the same fist that holds his keys.

  Kelly ducks. Then he straightens, eyeballing me as I stand white-knuckled and chest heaving. He’s waiting for my next move. My eyes slide to the bike parked by the kerb. Goddammit, it’s so close! They slide back.

  Kelly’s glare is hard enough to fracture the pavement. “Don’t even.”

  My gaze narrows. “You don’t understand.”

  “I don’t need to.” He jabs a thunderous finger at his motorcycle. “That is my baby. No one rides her but me. No one.”

  “Then take me,” I beg, the panic to reach Jake making me desperate.

  Kelly shakes his head. “You’re not thinking straight. Wait until you’ve had some sleep. We’ll find out where he is tomorrow, and I’ll take you then,” he says, his voice taking on a soothing quality as if I’m a wild animal to be tamed. “Besides,” he adds, eyes dropping to my belly with a dubious expression, “you’re pregnant.”

  “No shit?” I hiss, ire rising.

  Kelly huffs. “You can’t ride a horse when you’re pregnant. The same goes for bikes.”

  “What the hell do you know about pregnancy?” I shout, beyond frustrated.

  “Clearly more than you,” he points out like a big fucking know-it-all.

  “Who do you think you are? The pregnancy police?”

  He folds his arms. “When it comes to you, babe, looks like I have to be.”

  “I’m not your babe,” I spit out, “and screw this.” I start for the Harley, but Kelly grabs me and literally rips the keys from my hand. “Ouch!” I bellow. “That hurt, you fucking asshead!”

  “Oh my god! You bitches are gonna send me fuckin’ bat shit crazy.”

  Kelly stalks toward his bike. Swinging one powerful thigh over the seat, he settles. The machine lowers under his considerable weight. After turning the key, it rumbles to life. Then his head swivels to look at me and he huffs unhappily. “Well get the fuck on already.”

  “Stop swearing at me,” I retort snidely as I walk to the bike and climb on behind him.

  He shakes his head and honestly I can’t blame him. My mood is up and down like a crazy, pregnant woman, which is ironic, considering that’s exactly what I am.

  Kelly hands me the one helmet he has with him. “Where are we going?”

  “If I could be happy in only place for the rest of my life it would be here, at this very beach,” Jake said. He was sitting on the bonnet of his car, feet resting on the metal bumper, and his gaze on the Melbourne beach in front of us. Waves rolled in, one after the other. It was hypnotic.

  I sat beside him, his heavy arm wrapped around my back. My head tipped sideways to rest on his shoulder. “Why?”

  “Because the ocean is the great unknown. It holds all the answ
ers, yet it gives none of them up. You have to venture out through wild seas, risking your life just to seek them. It holds you at its mercy and yet you always come back to it. Over and over. Always searching. Always wanting more.” Jake turned his head, looking down at me, his brown eyes dark and fathomless. “It reminds me of you.”

  I remember it clearly. We were so young and stupidly in love. He likened me to something so vast and intrinsically beautiful it left me feeling like I truly mattered to him.

  “Why this very beach though?” I asked.

  “Because it’s here, with you, where I regained my faith.”

  “In what?”

  His eyes left mine and returned to the sea. “Life, Mac. In life.”

  “Melbourne,” I say to Kelly with conviction.

  To his credit, my answer doesn’t faze him. He simply nods and waits for me to pull the helmet over my head. When I’m done, I rest my hands on his waist and we pull out on to the street.

  The air is cool on my bare arms. Dawn is coming. The dark horizon has begun to lighten, hinting at a clear blue day ahead. My mind is on Jake as we roll to a stop at a red light. I’m angry. Crazy angry. But I’m scared. The one thing I never wanted to happen has come to fruition.

  Jake has left. And I’m having his baby.

  The pain of the past twists my belly in a knot.

  I’m not prepared to survive a loss like that again. I’m in this now. So deep there’s no coming out. And damned if I’m going to do it alone.

  Kelly and I are half an hour along the motorway to Melbourne when he begins to slow the bike. The rumbling engine cuts back. I look over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  Of course he can’t hear me.

  We pull over to the side of the motorway. Cars drive past sporadically as I tug the helmet from my head. “Why did you stop?”

  “Because of that,” he says, nodding ahead of him.

  I’m running fingers through the snarls in my hair when I notice it. A 1979 Dodge Charger parked off the road ahead of us. The colour a candy apple red. The car unmistakeably belongs to Jake.

  I climb off the bike, shove the helmet at Kelly, and run on unsteady legs toward the car. My senses are on high alert, my heart galloping in my chest. Something feels off and my fears are realised when I find no one inside. The Charger is empty. Jake would never abandon his car by the side of the motorway.