The Worst of Me

by Lisa J. Hobman

  She slipped her arms around his waist and gazed up at him. “You’re not a loser, Nick. And you haven’t hurt me like he did.”

  “No, not yet I haven’t. But at some point I’ll be leaving here and I don’t think I should be taking your virginity with me. You deserve so much better.”

  She moved back and released him. “I may be a virgin but I’m an adult capable of making my own decisions, Nick. But it’s okay. You don’t have to make excuses.”

  “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her defences shot up once again. “It means I get it, okay? I’m not some blonde bombshell with a perma-tan and perfect figure who you can fuck and just walk away from. You run the risk of seeing me again in the short term and I can understand how that would be awkward for you. I think I’d better go.”

  She turned and walked toward the stairs. Please stop me. Please tell me I’m wrong. Please. She paused at the bottom of the stairs in the hope that he would respond. When he didn’t she jogged up to the bedroom as quickly as she could and grabbed her shoes, trying her best to stay sure-footed through the fog of the tears stinging her eyes. She felt so damned stupid. What the hell had she been thinking? He was a famous, drop dead gorgeous rockstar who could have his pick of women. She was just a newly dumped, stroppy, opinionated bartender and chamber maid from a little Highland village. There was nothing attractive about her. Not compared to the women he usually had on his arm. She clearly had lost her marbles.

  When she returned to the ground floor Nick was nowhere to be seen. She gathered up her clothing from the bathroom and made her way to the front door.

  “Cat.” His voice startled her and she stopped but didn’t turn around to face him.

  “What?”

  There was a pause before he spoke again. “You just deserve someone better. That’s all.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she tugged the front door open and—gripping her bundle of clothing and shoes—she carefully made her way, barefoot, down the dirt track lane toward home.

  By the time she reached the pub her feet were sore and the place was heaving with the Friday lunchtime rush. Mainly locals who she didn’t much care to see at that precise moment. Especially wearing someone else’s baggy clothes. She pushed through the doors and with her head down she made her way through the back of the bar and into the apartment she shared with her father.

  Her dad was in the corridor carrying a crate of juice. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay? Nick left me a message. I’m going to knock the wee idiot’s bloody block off when I see him.”

  She scowled in confusion. “But he looked after me. It’s Camden who deserves a thump.”

  He shook his head. “You wee dafty. I meant Camden. I can’t believe he treated my girl like that. He needs to keep out ma way.”

  “It’s fine, Dad. Really it is.”

  “Aye, well ... you’ve got a surprise visitor waiting for you.” He nodded towards their door and her stomach sank. It can’t be Nick. Surely.

  She nervously opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Oh, honey. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Arms enveloped her and the familiar fragrance of strawberry shampoo belonging to her best friend, Lorna, infiltrated her nostrils. Lorna had moved away with her boyfriend, Lachlan, six months earlier and now lived on the outskirts of Inverness. It was always good to see her no matter how infrequently, and Cat missed her like crazy.

  She fought back tears and rested her head on Lorna’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Lor. I’m fine.” Her wavering voice told a different story.

  Lorna sniffed and pulled away from her. “It’s not fecking fine. My brother is a complete arsehole.”

  Cat shrugged. “Well, I can’t disagree with you there.” She dropped her pile of clothing onto the chair beside the door.

  Lorna eyed her up and down. “What on earth are you wearing?”

  Cat glanced down at herself and her cheeks heated. “Oh I ... erm ... I stayed at Nick’s last night.”

  “Nick the rock star guy you told me about on the phone? The one who stalked you and turned up to ruin your life?”

  That particular conversation had happened when Nick had turned up in Gairloch and Cat had immediately called Lorna to rant about the fact. They hadn’t had a chance to speak since so Lorna had no clue of the events that had followed.

  Cat nodded but held up her hand. “But it’s not what it looks like, though,” she insisted.

  “So he’s the friend you turned up drunk on last night? Tam said you’d stayed with a friend and I was thinking ‘how can she when I’m staying in Inverness now?’” Lorna giggled and rolled her eyes.

  “I ... I didn’t know where else to go. Dad was out at Stan’s and you were at home.” Her lip began to tremble again.

  Lorna pulled her into another embrace. “I’m going to smack him between the eyes when I see him. The big stupid blonde shit.”

  Cat spluttered a laugh between tears. “That’s your brother you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t care, Cat. He’s a prick. I’m so angry with him. He’s no brother of mine.”

  Guilt niggled at Cat. “No, honestly. Please don’t fall out with him. I’m not going to be responsible for breaking up a family.”

  “He’s the one who’s done that. Don’t you worry. Such a bloody idiot. And Sorcha too for fuck’s sake. She dumped him for another guy. More fool him for going back to her, I say. Come on, I’ll make us a coffee.”

  Five minutes later they stood in the kitchen, coffee mugs in hand and leaning against the kitchen counter.

  Lorna eyed her with intrigue and Cat could see the cogs were turning so fast it was a wonder there wasn’t steam coming from her ears. “What is it, Lor? I can tell you want to say something.”

  “I’m just ... I don’t get what happened with you and Nick for him to become a friend after the way you reacted to him turning up here.”

  Cat placed her cup down and shrugged. “He asked for my help. And I said yes. The more I helped him the more I saw through the façade the media projects. I misjudged him. He’s actually okay. I mean ... you know, for a long-haired rock star.”

  Lorna pursed her lips. “Oh, come off it. You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair. I remember what you were like last year when that video was going around social media of that guy putting his hair in a man-bun. I almost had to wipe the drool off your chin.” Lorna laughed and Cat cringed knowing full well her best friend had a valid point. In fact, Camden was the total opposite of the guys Cat usually found herself attracted to.

  “There’s nothing going on between us, Lor.” Her lie didn’t settle well in her stomach. “I mean ... that is ... nothing happened whilst Camden and I were an item. I would never—”

  Lorna’s eyes widened and she placed her mug down. “Whoa. Hang on. Nothing happened whilst you and Camden were an item? Does that mean something happened last night? When you were drunk?”

  There was a look of horror in Lorna’s eyes and Cat’s stomach knotted. “No. God, no. What do you take me for?”

  “Hey, it wasn’t you I was taking for anything. It was him taking advantage of you in that state that bothered me.”

  Cat relaxed a little. “Well, it’s okay, he didn’t. He was a perfect gentleman. In spite of the fact that I insulted him and his whole gender, called him names and cried myself to sleep on him.”

  Lorna huffed. “Thank goodness for that. And wow ... he sounds kind of sweet.”

  “He was. Until this morning.”

  Lorna narrowed her eyes. “What happened this morning? Did he—”

  “No! He didn’t! Jeez, Lor. It was me. I practically threw myself at him and he refused to take advantage of me even though I wanted him to. I wanted to have sex with him for goodness sake.”

  Lorna’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and her eyes widened again.

  Cat lowered her head and stared at her fingernails. “I think ... I think maybe it’s because I’m too plain.”

  “What
? Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re gorgeous! I mean it. You’re curvy. You have amazing hair, beautiful eyes, and let’s face it, your tits are magnificent.”

  Cat burst out laughing. “Nick said that exact same thing.” She clamped her mouth shut as soon as the words had fallen from her loose lips.

  Lorna laughed out loud. “Well, there you go then you, daft mare. It sounds like someone has a crush on someone.”

  Cat snorted. “I do not have a crush on him.” Yeah, you liar.

  “Actually I meant he has one on you.” Lorna winked.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nick

  Sunday already.

  He hadn’t seen Cat since Friday morning and he was desperate to know that she was okay. He’d spotted her from a distance on the beach with JD and a tall blonde woman he hadn’t seen before but hadn’t found the courage to approach her and apologise. Idiot. He’d metaphorically kicked himself over and over for the way he’d let her walk out without telling her she was beautiful ... or at least something good. Instead he’d given a lame excuse about not being good enough for her. And okay, that was actually true. But he allowed her to leave thinking that she was somehow inadequate compared to the women he usually slept with. That she somehow wasn’t setting his pulse racing when in truth she had turned him on so much he’d had to take a cold shower when she left.

  Friday night had been plagued with dreams about soft alabaster skin, auburn waves, ruby red lips and sensual curves. He’d contemplated walking down to the pub at three in the morning to finish what he’d started when she was standing before him but had talked himself out of the ridiculous idea. Instead he had thought of her whilst he took himself in hand. The relief was welcome but it did nothing to stop the erotic dreams about the feisty Scots lass.

  His phone had been filled with text messages from Chris, Den, Si and Chris again. And each time it pinged to alert him of a new message he grabbed it with eagerness in the hope that maybe Cat had forgiven him.

  No such luck.

  So after breakfast he showered and dressed, pulled on his boots and coat and set off for his daily walk. There was something so refreshing about the bitterly cold air whipping his hair around his face. He felt alive, filled with vitality. The scenery surrounding Gairloch was the stuff of dreams and he’d begun to venture farther on his walks. Only the day before he had stumbled upon a huge mansion house with wrought iron gates at the end of a private road. The sign informed him that Rockhill House was strictly private and accepted no cold callers. Visitation was by appointment only.

  The architecture of the house was typical Edwardian from what he could remember of history lessons at school, and comprised of a vast estate with a tree lined road leading up to the curved stone frontage and carved decorative balustrade. How had he not known the place was there? How come no one had mentioned it?

  He arrived at the pub without really intending to make it his destination when he heard the almost melodic sound of music coming from a back room. Intrigued at what clearly had the potential to be quite good, he opened the side gate and made his way towards the noise. A door lay wide open and the distinct sound of teenage laughter reverberated from within.

  It’s the kids. The kids who want to start a band. So Cat agreed to them using the place ... interesting.

  He stepped inside and stayed out of sight to listen.

  “Okay, so let’s take it from the top, guys. And one, two, three, four.” He recognised the voice of Callum, the red-haired ringleader.

  Someone began strumming on an old tinny sounding guitar and a girl with a rather good voice began to sing. He recognised one of his band’s songs, although coming from a group of adolescents it felt wrong. The words of “Hot and Heavy” were absolutely not what he expected them to be playing.

  He stepped inside and everything suddenly stopped, like a scene from an old Western movie when the stranger walks into the bar.

  “Shit, he’s here!” Connor, aka tall lanky boy, pointed a drumstick in Nick’s direction.

  “Yeah, numb nuts. We’ve got eyes.” Grace, the singer, rolled hers in exasperation and Nick chuckled at her surly reaction when it reminded him of someone. Perhaps it was a thing about Gairloch females.

  Nick clapped his hands together once. “Right you lot. Time to make a band,” he informed the group, and a raucous cheer almost lifted the ceiling from the place.

  After a quiet and potentially dull start, it had turned out to be a fantastic day. The kids—who had decided on the rather apt band name Rockhill—really listened and took on board everything he advised them to do. From the timing to the choice of song. They had settled on something less erotic sounding and more age appropriate for their first practise track, and Paramore’s “Crushcrushcrush” had sounded pretty good by the time they ended their first rehearsal.

  It had been quite sweet that Jack—who it turned out was actually called Jamesina after her father, James—and Grace had concocted a plan to learn a Sonic Idols track to surprise him with so he would see how serious they were.

  The rest of the band packed away and left but Liam hung back. He stood at the back of the room near the doorway as Nick switched off the lights. “You okay, Liam?”

  “Erm ... y-yeah. C-can I ask you something?”

  Nick walked toward the shy looking kid. “Sure, fire away.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  Nick tilted his head to one side. “My dad?” Liam nodded. “I think I miss the thought of him. You know, having someone to kick a football around with or to bust my balls about my drinking now I’m an adult. You know?”

  “I miss my dad. But he left. He met someone new and lost interest in me and mum.”

  The startling similarity of Liam’s situation to his own was incredibly sad. And the trust he had placed in Nick—regardless of the fact they were almost strangers—tugged at his heart.

  He patted Liam on the shoulder. “I feel your pain, kid. I really do. But ... you still have your mum?”

  Another nod from Liam.

  “Make sure she knows how much you appreciate her, okay? And don’t be a silly pillock at school.”

  Liam pursed his lips for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you get detentions? Cheek your teachers? Cut classes?”

  Liam cringed and his head bounced a confirmation.

  “Yeah, thought so. I used to be like you. But you know what? You’re hurting your mum. Rethink your behaviour, okay? I don’t want any kid in that band who doesn’t respect his mum.”

  A wide smile spread across Liam’s face and with an emphatic nod he said, “Got you. Okay.” As if Nick had just given him the best piece of advice ever, the young man grinned and pushed through the door with a distinct spring in his step.

  Nick chuckled and shook his head. “Kids.”

  Back at home, Nick had just poured himself a well-deserved glass of red wine and lit a fire when there was a pounding on the door.

  Not again.

  Fearing that this time it would actually be Den or Chris and not Cat he crept over to the door, holding his breath. He had no intentions of opening that fucker up tonight.

  “Nick! I know you’re home. Please can you open the door?”

  Okay, so it is Cat. Sober Cat.

  He opened the door and she shoved past him, storming into his home uninvited.

  He huffed and slammed the door. “Hi, Cat. Come on in, won’t you?”

  She turned to face him, hands on hips, nostrils flared, jaw clenched. “Why have you done it? Eh? What’s the catch? There has to be one.”

  Confusion caused his eyes to narrow and he tilted his head. “What the fuck are you talking about, Cat? Have you been drinking again?”

  She scoffed derisively. “What? No, I haven’t been drinking, you doaty tube.”

  He widened his eyes and smirked. “Okay, so now you’re speaking a foreign language at me? What do you want, Cat?”

  “I’m Scottish, you numpty. Or hadn’t you noticed? You are
in fact in ma home town. In ma country!”

  She was certainly Scottish all right. Her accent apparently got stronger when she was angry as well as drunk. “Okay, I apologise ... again. So what do you want?”

  “I want to know why you’re stringing those poor bairns along. What’s in it for you?” she demanded, jabbing a finger at him.

  God, she looks sexy when she’s angry. “I’m sorry? Stringing them along how?”

  “By pretending to be all mister nice helpful rock star. Mister ‘Ooh I can show you how to make it in the music business ... I can make you rich.’” He tried not to laugh at her mocking impersonation of him as she continued. “Mister ‘Oooh look at me, aren’t I fabulous?’ That’s who. Especially with Liam. His father buggered off and left him and he doesn’t need the likes of you being all ‘surrogate dad’ on him only to piss off and do the same. And I want to know why you’re doing it. When are the paps turning up to take photos of you doing your good deed for the kids, eh?”

  Ah. Hello again, Judgy Judgerson. “Look, Cat, you have this totally wrong. I’m not in it for anything other than to guide them. Give them some help with their band. Let’s face it, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands now. And Liam told me about his dad. Believe it or not I understand what he’s going through. And I would never deliberately hurt anyone, let alone a kid going through that shit.”

  Her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate and he tried his best not to look at her breasts, instead concentrating on her cheeks which were flushed bright crimson.

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe you. There has to be something in it for you. People like you don't do things like that for no reason. It just doesn't happen. Not here anyway.”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “People like me? What's that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean ... people in general, okay? People always seem to have an agenda Nick. When are the paparazzi going to turn up? Eh? At what point do those poor kids get thrust into the limelight and have their lives scrutinised just so you get to score brownie points with your fans for being a nice guy? There has to be something in it for you.” A line appeared between her brows and her eyes darted around unable to connect with his as if she was beginning to realise the ridiculousness of her accusation. “There must be an agenda.” Her voice was tinged with disbelief now but Nick was sick and tired of being judged based upon others' lacking moral standards.