by Nicola Haken
Lean On Me
by Nicola Haken
Lean On Me
Copyright © 2014 Nicola Wall
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are created from the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author, except in the case of critics or reviewers who may quote brief passages in their review. If you are reading this eBook and have not purchased it or won it in a blogger/author competition then you are reading a pirated version. Please support the author by deleting this copy and purchasing it from an authorised distributor.
Dedicated to my very special friend, Paula Agnes. A woman who I can share anything and everything with. Someone who shares my passion for reading, my warped sense of humour and best of all, my craziness!
Paula, I would be lost without you. I love you, lady.
“What’s meant to be won’t pass you by.”
~ Pauline Miley – my beloved nanna who I miss every single day
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Prologue
“Come on, guys. He’s heading outside.”
The three men had been watching Jared for the past hour – ever since their ringleader, Simon, caught him trying to sweet-talk his girlfriend, offering to buy her a drink while he was in the toilet. An innocent misunderstanding on Jared’s part, but a mistake that must be punished on Simon’s. Jared stepping outside was Simon’s opportunity – his chance to show Jared that nobody messes with his belongings and gets away with it.
“Won’t be long, babe,” Simon whispered into his girlfriend’s ear before cocking his head for his friends to follow him. The men followed Jared across the dance-floor and out onto the gritty grounds outside the nightclub.
“Well this should be easy enough,” Simon muttered sardonically to his followers when he noticed Jared stumbling along the edge of the club, steadying himself on the wall with his hand. “Looks like someone can’t hold their beer,” he mocked as he stepped up right behind Jared.
“Excuse me?” Jared mumbled, turning around and trying to force his eyes to focus on the man he now stood in front of.
“You touched something that belongs to me. I don’t like it when people touch what’s mine,” Simon growled, moving in on Jared and forcing his body against the wall from the close proximity. The other two men stood on either side, fencing him in completely.
“I’m s-sorry?” Jared stuttered in confusion, his senses deteriorating by the second.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Simon snarled, curling his fingers around the base of Jared’s throat. Jared lifted his hand in an attempt to prize him off, but his muscles were already starting to give in and his arm fell limp by his side.
“You see,” he continued before landing an uppercut to Jared’s jaw, sending his head swinging to one side and watching with a gratified smirk as his cheek slammed against the coarse bricks. “I don’t take kindly to other guys trying to get in my girlfriend’s knickers.” Another blow met Jared’s face, just below his eye this time, making Simon sigh with twisted pleasure at the squelch of blood spurting from Jared’s socket. Jared’s body doubled over and he cried out in pain before collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap.
“I think you should stop,” one of Simon’s friend’s suggested, feeling uneasy and backing away from the scene. “Seriously, Si, I think there’s something wrong with the guy.”
“”Yeah?” Simon replied through gritted teeth as he continued to kick Jared’s helpless body. “He’s a fuckin’ pussy.” He forced a boot into his ribs and laughed sadistically as the sound of bones cracking swept through the night air. “Can’t even fight like a fucking man.” Then his kicks moved up to Jared’s shoulder. “That’s what’s wrong with him.”
“Look at him!” the other friend piped up, pointing and laughing. “He’s spazzing out!” he added, thoroughly amused at the sight of Jared’s bleeding and battered body convulsing on the concrete. “Looks like he’s got fucking rabies with all that froth coming out of his mouth!” Then, raising his hand to Simon in a silent request to put his kicks on hold, he bent down and started tugging the zip down on Jared’s leather jacket.
“Ah come on, mate, what the fuck are you doing?” The friend with an apparent conscience asked, scanning the grounds of the club to make sure no one was coming.
“Bingo!” was his reply. Then he jumped to his feet and gave Jared a hefty kick with his own boot before waving the wallet he’d just taken proudly in the air.
“Fuck me, is he…. Ugh, he’s fucking pissing himself!” Simon grunted, changing tact and slamming his boot into Jared’s back this time. “Dirty fucking bastard.”
“Come on now, seriously. I thought you just wanted to warn him off. You’re gonna fucking kill him!” Closing time must have arrived, because in that moment the sound of drunken laughter and high heels clicking against the pavement started pouring from the front of the club.
“He goes anywhere near my girl again, and that’s exactly what I’ll fucking do.” Simon used his foot to roll Jared’s crumpled body, which had finally stopped shaking and was now lying paralysed on the cold ground, onto his back. Then, looking out towards the noise of the oncoming crowd of people being kicked out of the club, he cocked his head in the opposite direction.
“Let’s go.” Simon spat onto Jared’s broken body before running hastily around the back of the club to re-join the crowd from the other side. As always, his friends followed, and only one looked back – feeling overcome with guilt as he disappeared around the corner, wondering if the man he’d just stood by and watched get beaten to a pulp, would live or die.
Chapter One
Jared
Eight years later…
“Well fuck a duck, don’t you look ridiculous?” Moving my eyes from Rachel’s face I looked down at myself. I’d been in such a rush to leave my parents’ house I’d completely forgotten about the garish red knitted jumper with a giant snowflake sewn into the middle.
“It’s Christmas,” I shrugged by way of an excuse. “You can’t upset your grandma at Christmas. That’d be like… pissing on a baby or something.” Rachel stared at me like she’d just caught me literally pissing on a baby. “You gonna let me in or what?” I complained. “It’s bloody freezing.”
Without saying a word, Rachel gave an exaggerated arm-roll and then wheeled to the side to let me past. Rachel’s mum appeared at the end of the hallway and dried her hands on the tea-towel she was holding before offering a hand for me to shake.
“I hope I’m not intruding on your Boxing Day plans, Mrs Mason,” I felt obliged to say as I took hold of her hand.
After getting lost fifty-eight times (well, probab
ly more like three if we’re really counting) I had finally arrived in Cheshire to see out the rest of the Christmas holiday with Rachel and her family. My Christmas was going great until last night when I had a major bust-up with my dad. I planned to go back to my apartment and drink the week away but Rachel insisted I come up here. I’m still not too sure why, but it beats being alone I suppose.
“Not at all,” Rachel’s mum replied - sounding not only sincere but genuinely happy. “And call me Caroline.”
“Caroline,” I repeated, sounding it out on my tongue.
“What can I get you to drink? You must be thirsty after such a long drive.” I wasn’t just thirsty; I was utterly fucking exhausted. I could’ve killed for a lager but thought it more polite to ask for coffee.
“I’ll have a coffee please. White, two sugars.”
“He’ll take a lager, Mum,” Rachel interrupted from behind me. I scowled at her. I was trying to come across like a decent guy here! Caroline nodded and I could tell by the way she smiled she was onto my game. “Rachel sweetheart… take your friend through to the living room and put the fire on!” She called over her shoulder when she disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen.
“Wow – the fire. You’d think royalty had come to visit,” Rachel groaned as she wheeled into the living room.
“Hey! You invited me!” I grumbled in mock offence. “Besides, you don’t think I’m special, saffy?”
“Oh just fuck off,” she spat. I couldn’t help laughing. She hates that I’ve started calling her saffy and I suspect that’s because I won’t tell her why (maybe I’ll tell you later if I get a free minute). But it’s just too much bloody fun having the power to rile her up so easily, and that’s why I haven’t referred to her by her actual name in two weeks. “So are you going to get changed? You’re clashing with my hair.” Rachel has dyed her hair bright flamingo-pink – the exact same shade as the stitching on my hideous jumper - since I saw her last week.
“Oh, sweetheart… let him get settled first,” Caroline scolded when she entered the room with a bottle of Heineken. Somehow she still managed to sound sweet even though she was telling Rachel off. Telling her off… that makes it sound like she’s three years old but you get what I’m saying. “Do you want a glass, Jared?”
“From the bottle’s fine. Thank you.”
“Turkey sandwich? You must be starving.”
“That sounds great.” Wow. I could get used to this. Maybe I’ll ask her to adopt me. “Your mum’s great,” I said to Rachel once Caroline was out of earshot.
“It’ll wear off. She’s just trying to make a good impression. Fuck knows why.”
“Seriously, saffy, did you ask me here just so you could be pissed off with me all week? ‘Cause I’m starting to think drinking my lonely arse into a coma might’ve been more fun.”
“Stop calling me saffy! I don’t like it.”
“Sure you do. You’re just pissed off ‘cause you don’t know what it means.”
“So go on then… What does it mean?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I teased, receiving the exact response I was aiming for – the middle finger. “You missing Emily?”
“We’re not joined at the hip,” she snapped. “It’s been less than two weeks. I’m pretty sure I’m big enough to survive on my own.” Fuck me, what the hell was eating her? “Sorry,” she reluctantly muttered. I know it was reluctant because she said it so faintly I wouldn’t have heard if I hadn’t been eyeing up her new lip piercing. “So the shit’s hit the fan with your dad, eh? What’s that all about?”
“The usual shit. I’m a failure blah de fucking blah. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Or ever. It’s not the first time my dad and I have had this argument and I know it will blow over soon enough; probably after my mum’s had a good old moan at him. Still, it’s the first time he’s ruined fucking Christmas by spouting his ‘do you seriously not want to amount to anything’ bullshit.
Caroline made up some seriously good turkey and stuffing sandwiches accompanied by a mince pie and another lager. That right there, people… was Christmas on a fucking plate. Rachel was a miserable mare all evening which made me feel awkward to say the least. Her mum must’ve been wondering why the hell she asked me here. I know I certainly was. Then, just after 8 PM she went to bed! Can you believe that? She left me all alone feeling like a complete and utter dickweed while her mum fussed around, making me more sandwiches and trying to make polite chatter.
By the time her dad got home from his annual Boxing Day piss-up with his friends, I seized the opportunity to go to bed myself under the pretence I was tired from the long drive. After a brief introduction to Bryan, Rachel’s dad, Caroline showed me to the guest room and I climbed into the double bed, removing only my jeans, and went to sleep in the knowledge I was going to fucking kill Rachel Mason in the morning.
**********
It was almost noon the next day before Rachel prized her lazy arse out of bed. Figuring I should play the part of the grateful guest, I asked Caroline if she needed any help with anything (fully expecting her to say no) and ended up with the task of taking down all the Christmas decorations. She said they always take them down this early because they make the house look cluttered. My mum? She’d go apeshit if anyone dared touch them before the 6th January. Apparently it’s bad luck or some bollocks like that.
“About time, sweetheart.” My neck instinctively turned to the sound of Caroline’s voice and then I saw Rachel in the doorway. “Are you feeling better after yesterday?” Hmm. Wonder what happened yesterday?
“I’m fine,” Rachel answered curtly. If I didn’t know her better I’d have thought she looked embarrassed. “It was no big deal, I’ve told you.”
“I just worry about you. When I think of how long you could’ve been lying there if no one-”
“Just drop it, Mum!”
“Whoa, Rach,” I interjected. “I don’t know what happened but I’m sure-”
“And you can shut the fuck up too.”
“Rachel!” Caroline admonished. “What on earth has gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” she replied sulkily. “Hey, Jared. Wanna go out for a bit?” Oh, so she was talking to me now?
“Um, sure,” I said a little hesitantly. “Where?”
“Shopping. Pub. Don’t really care.” Yeah, this should be fun. That’s if you’re the kind of person who classes jamming your balls in a vice and bashing the shit out of them with a meat clever fun.
“I’ll grab my keys from upstairs.”
“I’ll get them. I’m going up for my handbag anyway. Where abouts are they?” Wait… Rachel could go upstairs. I wasn’t being disableist (is that a word? Huh. Maybe I should’ve listened more at school after all), but I couldn’t help wondering how the bleeding hell she did that. “There’s a lift built into the dining room,” she added, my expression obviously conveying my curiosity.
“A lift? In your house? That’s so cool!”
What? You don’t think that’s cool? Seriously, how useful would that be when you roll in from a late night drinking session?
“Can I see it?”
“Um… okaaaay.” Rachel looked at me like I was a giant imbecile before turning towards the hall and leading me to the dining room. The wall to the left had tracks at one side and Rachel wheeled over and pushed a little green button fixed to the wall beside it. Seconds later a glass lift descended from the ceiling, slowly making its way down until it stopped with a hiss - like air escaping from a giant balloon.
“Oh come on… that is cool. It’s even got a door!”
“Want a ride?” Rachel asked. I knew from the patronising tone of her voice (though in fairness she sounds like that most of the time) she was taking the piss but I didn’t care – I wanted a shot in that bad boy.
“Hell yeah, I do!” There was another button beneath the green one and when Rachel pressed it the door automatically eased open and a small metal ramp lowered from the front. In a comp
letely un-gentlemanly manner I jumped inside first and Rachel followed before pressing yet another button and setting the thing in motion.
“Seriously, Jared?” she mocked. Sure I was making a tit of myself getting so excited over a lift but come on… it’s in a house! “Anyone’d think you’ve never been in a lift before.”
“Not in a house!” So, you thought I was already making an arse of myself? Well you should’ve heard how stupid I sounded when I broke out into the chorus of Button Moon.
“What the fuck is that?”
“We’ll follow Mr Spoon to button moo-oon, button mooooon,” I continued to chirp. “You don’t remember that show?”
“Um… no,” she replied condescendingly. “Don’t forget you’re an old man compared to me.” Cheeky bitch. Twenty-eight is not old.
“We should You Tube it,” I suggested.
“Whatever,” Rachel dismissed, pressing the orange button which opened the door when we reached the top. The lift provided a direct line to Rachel’s bedroom. Again I thought that was bloody cool but I suspected she’d slap me if I said it again so I kept my gob shut. “Right, go grab your keys. I’ll meet you downstairs.” I was more disappointed than I should’ve been that I wouldn’t be riding in the lift again.
Following orders, I headed straight to the guest room and picked up my keys from the dresser. Then I gave my body a quick spritz with some deodorant before making my way back downstairs. I was down before Rachel, and Caroline met me in the hallway with a flask of coffee. That was such a sweet, yet old lady thing to do.
“It’s a cold day. If you break down you’ll be grateful of something to keep you warm until help arrives.” Ever the optimist huh, Caroline?
“Thanks. That’s really nice of you. But my baby hasn’t let me down this far and I can’t see her doing it in the future,” I teased, referring to my red BMW convertible.
“Take care of her today for me. I think she’s still a little sore after her fall yesterday.” Rachel fell? Why didn’t she tell me? Was that what the stinking mood she’d been in since I arrived about? “She gets embarrassed about these things.”
