by Bella Jewel
“Your dad called; he’s made dinner. He wants to discuss the business plans. You should be there.”
I sigh. My father tries to make us dinner often, but it never ends well. My brother, Liam, always ends up arguing with him and then storms out. I’m left with Jacob and my dad, and they just go on and on about the business.
My father is a bitter man. He has been since the day Momma went missing. He only shows passion when he speaks about his company; otherwise, his answers are grunts. I’m sure her going missing broke him as much as it did us, but he refuses to show it. He just shut down.
“I am going to see Liam tonight,” I say, lifting my bag.
“It’s important we attend. You know it means a lot to him.”
“I know,” I say. “But Liam hasn’t called for days, I’m worried about him.”
“Your brother is selfish and his attitude doesn’t help anything. He doesn’t deserve your concern.”
I stiffen. He knows nothing. He will never understand the kind of heartbreak that is left behind in such a situation.
“Don’t start with me, please. I don’t have the patience tonight,” I whisper, tucking my hair behind my ears.
“Well then maybe it’s best you don’t come, if you’re only going to upset your father with your unfortunate attitude.”
I grind my teeth together and turn, facing him. “You know what? You’re right. It is better I don’t come.”
I turn and walk towards the exit before he has the chance to speak. I’ve got nothing to say to Jacob when he’s acting as though I don’t care.
I care.
I’ve lived with my father daily after Mom went missing. I’ve lived with his grief, his anger, his frustration and his pain. I’ve watch my brother become involved with drugs and bad people. I’ve watched him sink. Through all this, I’ve lived with my own hurts. My own loss. My own broken soul.
He’ll never understand.
I get it better than anyone.
~*~*~*~
“Open up, Liam,” I yell, banging on my brother’s door. It’s a new apartment, but the door is broken, with big splinters of wood protruding out. That’s a result of the constant parties he has here.
It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen him, and he’s not returning my calls. I can hear loud, booming music coming from behind the door, and I know my brother is having yet another party. It’s his way of coping, and as much as I hate to seem him channeling his pain like this, I can’t blame him for it. We all have our own ways of dealing with these things.
“Liam!” I scream.
The door flings open and a tall, red-headed man stands in the gap. He stares down at me for a moment and a grin appears on his face, showing me a row of less-than-charming teeth. Yuck. I wrinkle my nose and stare past him at the unit full of drunks. They are swaying, staggering, singing horribly to the music and lying all over my brother’s furniture.
“Where’s Liam?” I ask.
“He’s occupied, but I’m sure I’ve got five minutes for you.”
I stare up at him, and mutter, “Yuck. Don’t flatter yourself. I’d rather lick the pavement.”
His face hardens, and he glares at me. “Too uppity for this side of town. Girls like you don’t belong here. Go home or I’ll sort you out myself.”
“Is that a threat?” I challenge, putting my hands on my hips.
I’m tall and slim, but I’ve got some grunt when I need it. I shove my long, honey-blond hair over my shoulder and stare him dead in the eye. He narrows his gaze, but soon becomes bored and turns. “Enter, I couldn’t care less.”
I step past him, staring around my brother’s unit. It’s so disgusting—yet the tragic thing is it’s a brand new unit. There are pizza boxes that have become soggy and moldy all over the coffee table. Beer bottles are strewn about, and there are clothes everywhere. People are filling the couches, the kitchen and apparently the bedrooms. I shove through them, needing to find my brother.
“He’s busy, Avery.”
I turn and see Liam’s best friend, Kelly. He’s standing with his hand on his hips. He’s a gorgeous man; I’ve always thought so. Kelly is a surfer, and he makes a living out of his skills alone. He’s got beach-blond hair that lightens at the tips. It’s only short, but it has soft curls that give him the ideal look for the beach. He’s olive, that beautiful kind of olive that makes his light-blue eyes look as though they’re almost translucent. He’s always here, trying to help Liam.
He never gives up, no matter how bad Liam treats him.
“I know,” I say, stepping closer.
Kelly reaches out, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll round him up soon. Go and get a drink. Sit outside, it’s nicer out there.”
“How are you?” I ask.
He smiles, showing me two, gorgeous dimples in his cheeks. “Competition next week. It’s a big one.”
“You’ll nail it.” I smile.
“What about you? How’s the dancing and the studying?”
“I’m doing okay. My mind just isn’t in it right now.”
He pulls me closer until my body is pressed against his. He wraps his arms around me and I sigh, leaning into him. Even though Kelly is Liam’s best friend, he’s always been extremely close to me, too.
“Don’t let people choose how your career goes, Avery. You have to fight for it.”
“I’m trying,” I murmur against his chest. “I truly am.”
He pulls back, and smiles down at me. Without Kelly, there are times I’d have sunk. He keeps me afloat. We’ve been friends for about five years, and he’s managed to be my rock through some seriously hard times. He’s got that beautiful kind of soul you don’t see often in people anymore.
“You just keep trying.”
He gives me another smile, before turning and heading off. I shove my way through the people around until I reach the back door. My brother’s unit is ugly as they come because of the damage he’s inflicted upon it, but the entire block share a dazzling courtyard. I don’t know why it’s so nice, but somehow they all manage to keep it as the highlight.
I walk down the back steps and past a couple who are kissing so passionately I can see their tongues. I shudder and walk into the middle of the courtyard, taking a seat on the old garden chair. I breathe in the fresh air, and wonder who and what Liam is doing upstairs. He turns to women to make him feel better. To make him forget.
It doesn’t work.
“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing sitting out here all alone?”
I hear the husky, deep voice and turn, but I can only see the dull orange glow of a cigarette. I squint and I can see a shadow of a man leaning against a pole. I want him to come out. If his looks match that voice . . .
He steps out and my mouth drops open as he slowly walks towards me. My heart hammers when I realize who he is. No. No way. I must be imagining things. When the light is shining down over him, I actually rub my eyes to make sure I’m not crazy. It’s Nathaniel Alexander. He’s a world champion motocross racer.
My mouth drops open as I take him in. Not only is Nate extremely talented, he’s also a favorite amongst women around the world. Girls go to his races just to see him. He’s the rock star of the motocross world.
It takes me a moment to be able to speak, because all I want to do is babble incoherent nonsense that won’t do me any good.
“That’s a bad pick-up line,” I finally manage to blurt out. The urge to smack myself in the forehead is overwhelming.
He chuckles softly. “I was never good at them.”
“So it seems.”
His smile widens, and he shoves a packet of smokes at me. “Want one?”
I shake my head. “My trainer would kill me.”
He cocks an eyebrow and steps forward. His big, black boots are unlaced, giving him that lazy, sexy look. “Trainer?”
I stare for a moment now he’s up close. I’ve seen him on television before but he’s so much better in person. Nate is all man. His hair is
dark and about three inches long, sitting messily on his head. His jaw is square and covered in a few days’ growth that gives him the ultimate rugged look. He’s got full lips and a perfectly sculpted nose.
It’s his eyes that make him truly breathtaking, though. The eyes are what suck you in. They’re green. I don’t just mean any green, either; I’m talking a sparkling emerald green that blends with his gorgeous olive skin to create a look that is very rare in a male. They’re out of this world. They’re what women adore him for.
“I’m a dancer. Well, I’m training to be a dance teacher,” I finally stammer, answering his question.
He studies me. “Is that so?”
“It’s so.”
He hooks a finger through the faded denim jeans he’s wearing. They look incredible on him. “Do you have a name, Dancer?”
I smile. I can’t help it. “Do you have a name?”
“Don’t we all?” He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “I’m Nate.”
“I know.”
He raises both brows this time. “Then why did you ask?”
“Curiosity.”
He tilts his head. “Did you think I’d give you a fake name?”
I rub my hands over my cool legs. It’s slowly cooling down as the year goes on. Winter isn’t far off. “Maybe, or perhaps I just needed confirmation.”
He drops the cigarette he’s smoking, and crushes it out with his boot. I watch as he moves, and I can’t help but admire the way his black tee pulls across his muscled chest. Nate would have to have a serious amount of upper body strength to be able to hold onto bikes the way he does.
“So, you know Liam, then?”
I frown. “He’s my brother.”
“No shit,” he murmurs, running a hand over the light stubble on his chin.
“And how do you know Liam?”
He shrugs. “Met him through Kelly.”
“And you know Kelly, how?”
He laughs softly. “Inquisitive little thing, aren’t you?”
I give him a half-smile. “Sure, you could say that.”
“I know Kelly through my brother. He is a pro-surfer, and he competes with him. We all just kind of got along.”
I nod. “Who is your brother?”
“Keanu Alexander.”
My mouth drops open. “No shit.”
He looks impressed. “The lady knows my brother.”
“I’ve seen him compete with Kelly. He’s amazing.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“So are you,” I add, feeling the need to clarify that. “I’ve been watching you race for the past two years.”
“So has ninety-nine percent of the female population.”
I giggle, and then slap a hand over my mouth. I haven’t heard a giggle leave my throat for so long, the sound shocks me. Nate smiles at me and points to the seat, asking if it’s okay for him to sit. I nod, and he walks over, doing just that. I can smell him now he’s this close. He smells like cigarettes and beer, but the smell isn’t bad, it’s kind of comforting. Before my dad become hard and withdrawn, he used to smell like that.
“So, what kind of dancing do you do?” he asks.
“Ballet.”
He looks me over, his green eyes piercing into mine. “I can see that. You’ve got the right look.”
“And what look is that?” I ask, frowning.
He grins. “Don’t get huffy. You just look as beautiful as a ballerina should look. You’re . . . dainty.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “I can’t decide if you’re complimenting me or insulting me.”
He laughs loudly. “It’s a compliment.” He presses a hand over his heart. “Swear.”
“Liam is looking for you.”
I lift my head at the sound of the voice behind us and see Kelly entering the courtyard. He’s got a beer in his hand, and he’s giving Nate a look. The look—the one that says what the hell are you doing?
“Thanks.”
I stand and turn to Nate, smiling down at him. “It was nice to meet you, Nathaniel.”
He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Call me Nate, and I didn’t catch your name.”
I grin. “You figure it out.”
I turn and walk up to Kelly, placing my hand on his shoulder softly before stepping past him.
“Goodnight, Dancer!” Nate yells.
I smile the entire way into the unit.
~*~*~*~
“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Avie?” Liam mutters, lighting a cigarette and buttoning up his jeans.
I stare sadly at my brother. He grew into a lovely-looking man, but he’s damaged himself. Deeply. He’s an asshole, he treats women badly and drugs are doing some serious harm to him. His once gorgeous, blond hair is ratty and forming dreadlocks. His blue eyes—the eyes just like Momma’s—are dull and lifeless. His skin has a constant grey tinge. The only thing he’s got going is the fact that he’s muscled and well built—and I have no doubt that’s because of steroids.
“I wanted to see you,” I say, walking into his room and cringing at the smell. “I called and you never answered. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Been busy,” he mutters, inhaling deeply and blowing out big grey puffs into the air.
“Liam,” I begin.
“Don’t,” he growls. “I don’t need your fuckin’ pity, Avie. It’s the only reason you’re here. You feel sorry for me. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. I’m fine; I’m doing fine.”
“You’re not fine, Liam,” I sigh. “You’re living in a dump and you look like hell.”
“Well,” he mutters, “not all of us are fuckin’ perfect like you, Avery. We don’t all get Daddy’s money, and we’re not all set up with Prince Charming to live a rich and happy life.”
I flinch and instantly become defensive.
“Dad got you this apartment, which was once worth a lot of money. He helps me with dancing because I give him enough respect to let him.”
“You’re his fuckin’ pride, Avery. He got me this apartment, but it’s nothing on the luxury you fuckin’ live in. You’re worthless without him; at least I’m having a go on my own, not leeching off him and his faggot sidekick.”
My jaw grinds and I struggle to keep calm. “I come here every week. I call you; I give you most of the money Dad gives me. I don’t keep any of it, Liam. I work for my money; I pay my rent, even though Dad doesn’t want it. I’m doing the right thing—what you’re doing is hurting me over nothing. I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to . . .”
“I don’t want your fucking help,” he roars. “I don’t want your fucking pity. Stop treating me like you’re my fucking mother. I don’t have a fucking mother—she’s fucking dead!”
Tears well in my eyes and I struggle to breathe. The door opens behind me and I feel hands on my shoulders.
“Go, Avery.”
It’s Kelly.
I turn and rush from the room, my legs wobbling. I hurry through the crowd, pushing until I reach the front door. I burst out and run to my car. I dig through my pockets—dammit, I can’t find my keys. I shove both hands in, but they’re empty. I look down through the window, and scream in frustration when I see I’ve locked them in. I kick the door, angry. I look around helplessly for a moment, and then decide I’m too angry to go back inside. I have a spare set at home. I’ll just walk.
I turn and walk off down the street, swiping my eyes furiously to stop the tears sliding down my cheeks. I hear cars going past me, but I keep my face down. It’s going to take me hours to get home, but I don’t care. I just need a break—I need the walk. Liam hurt me, and the sad thing is I understand it. He’s so broken, the forgotten child, and no matter how hard I try he won’t let me in.
But I’ll keep trying.
“Need a lift?”
I squeal and spin around, shocked by the voice that has suddenly popped up behind me. I see Nate in a chunky truck that completely suits his bad boy persona. He’s leaning out the window, cigarette in his mouth,
eyes fixed on me.
“No,” I mutter, turning around, heart pounding.
I begin walking again.
“Kelly told me you live at least a two-hour walk away. It’s late, people are out that you don’t need to come in contact with, and you’re a girl. It’s dangerous and stupid. Get in the car.”
“I’m fine,” I say, not looking.
I don’t know how I missed the rumble of his car before, but now it’s taunting me as he slowly drives behind me.
“Get in the car, or I’ll get out and throw you in,” he orders.
I stiffen and turn, glaring at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“One.”
I gape. “Are you seriously counting at me? I’m not a child.”
“Two.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“Three.”
He swings the door open, leaving the truck running and takes two steps towards me. Then he leans down, presses his shoulder to my belly and lifts me into the air. I’m hanging over his shoulder as if I weigh no more than a sack of potatoes. I squeal and slap his back, but there’s no budging him. He walks me around to the passenger door and opens it, throwing me inside.
“You’re a . . .”
He slams the door in my face, leaving me gaping. He’s at the driver’s side in a few seconds, and when he’s in, he turns to me.
I splutter a few times before I manage to get my words out. “Do you always throw women into your car in such a manner?”
He grins at me. “If the situation calls for it.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and cross my arms. “I don’t need your help.”
“I’m aware of that,” he says, pulling the car out and driving south towards my suburb.
“Then why are you here?”
“Kelly was worried. I was the only person not drinking, so I offered.”
“I could be a murderer.”
He chuckles. “If you could get close to me with a knife, I’d murder myself.”
“Hey! That’s mean!” I protest, uncrossing my arms and placing them on my knees.
