Shaking my head, I watch her floppy cheeks go to work as she chomps down. She’s technically Danny’s dog. He bought her when she was only a pup. It was right before he disappeared four years ago. He asked if I could take care of her for him until he got back. She’s been with me ever since.
Running my fingers over her shiny fur, I look at the screen and my joy instantly shrivels up.
“Why are you watching this?” I ask July.
“Has he lost his mind?”
She sounds shocked.
I stare at the TV with utter hatred. Jarvis’s new video called Cold One plays. It’s the premiere on MTV. It’s about July. He has a girl that has similar features like July. She has light grey eyes and long, dark honey-blonde locks like her, but she doesn’t have my sister’s exotic beauty. Nope. Not at all. She’s just a cheap knockoff. The girl in the video ends up scheming behind Jarvis’s back, planning to murder him with his drummer Mac, her secret lover and accomplice.
Mac and Wannabe July take turns poisoning his food and drinks while Jarvis sings somberly into the microphone on a faded-out stage. It shows clips of Wannabe July and Mac having the best quickies while Jarvis works hard on writing music and signing posters for fans.
Clips of Jarvis bending over the toilet, puking from the poison, flash across the screen. Then it shows him in the hospital, hooked up to a ventilator. The Wannabe July comes into his room, dressed like a nurse Elle Driver style, and shoots him in the heart with a black pistol. After that, Wannabe July gets pounded doggy-style by Mac.
When they lie down together, she slits Mac’s throat right before he falls asleep. The video ends with Wannabe July lounging in her white lace lingerie, covered in blood Carrie-style and laughing while she cuddles next to Mac’s lifeless body.
July’s face pales, her fingers gripping her hair like a madwoman. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She leaps from the couch and runs into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
“That sadistic fucker,” I mumble under my breath while I stuff cheddar Ruffles into my mouth. Chloe eats what spills on my shirt. I’m totally astonished, dumbfounded, at a loss for words for his stupidity and for what he’s putting my sister through.
Jarvis and July were deeply in love way before Jarvis and his band became famous. They both loved to write music and sing. They both got matching tattoos in the midst of their passionate relationship. She got His tatted across her left rib, and Jarvis got Hers in the same place. She was his and Jarvis was hers. Their love was off the charts. They were on another level. Their love was a Romeo-and-Juliet-slash-Bonnie-and-Clyde type of romance.
Jarvis used to steal luxury cars for some underground chop-shop king. And he got away with it. He was good at it. He was really good at it, and he made a bucket load of cash from it. But one day, something went wrong. He got jumped by a rival gang on the job and called July to come and pick him up afterward. He couldn’t really drive with two broken arms. But when she got to the scene, the police arrived. Before Jarvis could say anything, she took the blame for the entire incident, not wanting Jarvis to have a record because of his rock star dreams of making it big. July spent six months in juvie for him. In return, he got out of the shady business and began concentrating on his music, making demos for record labels.
He ended up landing a huge deal at HeadBanger Records. July and Jarvis grew even closer after she got released. He asked her to move into his swanky condo in New York, and she did. She gave up her life once again for him. But something went terribly wrong, as in devastatingly wrong, one late night at a party. Jarvis accused her of sleeping with his former drummer, Hex. He humiliated her and publicly threw her out of his condo with barely the clothes on her back. She didn’t have any money to get back home. Mom and I had to take the first flight out to go get a completely brokenhearted July and bring her home.
She doesn’t talk about it with anyone, but I suspect Jarvis’s truth isn’t the real truth. She’s been home ever since, volunteering at the homeless shelter a few days out of the week and taking night classes to become a nurse. Jarvis has been making money off her misery, and Hex dropped out of the entertainment business altogether. He moved to Houston, Texas. I think he owns a bail bonds business now. Hex hasn’t come forth with anything, either. No one really knows what happened between the two of them. Neither one of them will talk. They are definitely keeping it under tight lock and key.
No matter what happened that night, Jarvis had no right putting my sister out like an unwanted dog. The anger inside of me boils. The things I can’t wait to tell him when he comes home. I throw some chips at his face on the screen, wanting to take a pair of rusty pliers to his nipple rings.
“That’s not nice, December,” my mom says, coming to sit by me on the couch. Chloe jumps out of the way to become the doggy vacuum, eating up the chips on the carpet.
I look into my mother’s deep golden-brown eyes. “Mama, you know what he did to July. That was wrong. He’s making her the villain when he’s the bad guy. He’s making money off her despair. I’ll have some words for him when he comes home.”
“She won’t talk to us, honey. We don’t know what happened between the three of them. It’s been a year since they broke up. But he has invited her on tour with him.”
I’m unable to control the pure disgust that contorts my face. “Why the hell would she go on tour with that egoistical, self-absorbed, jealous psycho asshole?”
“Language, December,” she chides sternly, the no-nonsense Moroccan woman coming out of her. “They have a song together.”
My eyes pop out of my head. “What?”
She nods, reaching in the bowl to grab a handful of chips. “It’s really popular. It’s been playing all over the radio and everything.”
Well.
Damn.
No wonder I didn’t know. I hardly listen to the radio, and I hate watching any kind of news. All of my time is dedicated to my job at the Lazy Ville Sanctuary, caring for the animals. “She should have told me.”
“She didn’t want to disappoint you. She knows you don’t like him.”
Settling back on the couch, I exhale through the frustration. I’m fiercely protective of all my sisters. Since no one is good enough to provide the protection that’s up to my gold standard, I placed myself in that head position. I may be the youngest one, but I am the most aggressive one. Not only will I take a bullet for each of them, I will kill for them. And I’m known for my brand of protectiveness (when I say protectiveness, I really mean cruelty) when it comes to defending my sisters. I once took a baseball bat to my sister January’s ex-boyfriend’s brand-new Mustang when he physically abused her and cheated on her. Oh, I took that bat to his nuts as well. He was a sick fucker who enjoyed getting his balls bashed in by a pissed-off female.
“I’m going to go check on her,” I say to my mom, passing her the bowl of chips. Dusting the crumbs from my lap for Chloe to suck up, I stand and make my way down the hall to the bathroom.
I lightly knock on the locked door. “Hey, it’s me. Open up.”
There’s a long stretch of silence before she unlocks it, allowing me inside. She wipes at her red, watery eyes when she closes the door back. The guilt hits me like a punch to the gut when I take one look at her face.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugs and sits on the countertop of the ceramic tub. “You didn’t do anything.”
Leaning back on the sink cabinets, I stare at my sister, wondering if we’re all doomed to forever be pessimists because of the consequences of the monumental presence of an absentee father. Maybe our issues with men stems from not having our father around. I’m sure there are a slew of people with daddy issues, but it’s more prominent for all of us. We each feel that distinctive ache of being unwanted, unloved, every second of every day. Every little girl should have a father who loves and protects them.
“I’m not mad at you,” I tell her. “You should have told me about the song, though.”
“I didn’
t think you wanted to hear it.”
“What?” I shout, offended. “I live to support you and your dreams. I want a live performance now.”
She looks at me, a small grin curving her lips. “I don’t think I have it in me to sing that song right now, but I have been working on something new.”
“Bring it on. I’m listening.”
My sister is going to be a fucking star.
I just know it.
It’s a sure thing.
I feel it in my bones.
“Okay.” She closes her eyes, and her soft voice begins to carry me away to a gentle paradise of broken hearts and tortured love. Shutting my eyes, I listen to her soulful lyrics.
I love you, baby
More than you’ll ever know
More than you’ll ever know
I’m sorry for the way I made you feel
Made you feel
I did wrong
I know
I know
But it’s really out of my control
Really out of my control
I don’t want to see you go
You made up your mind
Yeah
I know
I know
So there’s nothing more for me to do
To do
But to love you like I do
And that’s tragic enough
But I can’t seem to let go
There’s no compromising
I know
I know
Everything isn’t what it seems, though
Your perception of me is illusionary
You never trusted me to begin with
You threw me out your door
And that really is messed up
Yeah
I know
I know
My heart is bursting at the seams, though
The thing you think I did is misinterpreted
I didn’t hurt you
But I hurt you
Drowning in an ocean of you
Of you
Wishing I was touching you
There’s nothing else for me to do
But love you
Tragic
I know
I know
“That’s beautiful, July. You’re very talented. It’s a hit. I’m claiming it.”
She looks up from her lap, her gaze fixed on the wall behind me. Her expression is a million miles away. “I’m so nervous.”
“What? Why? It’s amazing.”
“I don’t know. It’s weird. I’m not nervous about strangers listening to the heartbeat of my soul. It’s Jarvis. I don’t think I can survive his mind games and judgment.”
“Don’t let him get to you, July. Your voice is out of this world good. You’re a star, and if he’s too stupid to realize that, then fuck him.”
She smiles up at me. “My number one fan.”
I give my head a nod. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
“You know, Dee, I wish I was as strong as you. You’re so independent and spirited. Your face should be the poster for the feminist movement. I’m a doormat.”
“Don’t say that, July. You’re sweet. And I’ve seen you when you’re passed pissed. You’re a merciless lioness.”
“Can we hug now?”
“Yep.”
We embrace each other for a while. “Love you, Dee Dee.”
“Love you, too, July.”
“Do you love me enough to tell me about Mr. Danny?”
“Who?” I ask, playing dumb. “Looks like it’s time to go.”
I break apart from her, but she grabs my arm before I can flee out the door. “Oh, no you don’t. I want details. Spill it, December.”
“Umm . . .” Wanting to skip the drunken crying part, I begin with what happened this morning. “I gave him a hand job this morning, simply returning the favor, of course. He cooked me breakfast. Fed me from his hand like it was his sole purpose on earth. He froze and shut down when I asked about Piper. He told me he wasn’t good enough for me, but that wasn’t going to keep him from claiming my virginity and making me his. Whatever that means. He invited me to dinner, told me to bring an overnight bag, and dropped me off. Mind you, everything didn’t happen in the order I told it.”
“Go December,” she cheers, slapping my arm. “Mr. Danny is laying it on pretty thick. He’s going to have you pregnant and barefoot in his kitchen in no time.”
I scrunch my nose up. “Ha. Ha. That’s so funny,” I grumble dryly. “And I hate that you call him Mr. Danny. It’s so wrong.” She’s been calling him that to make fun of me because he’s older. He was old enough to be my teacher when I was a teen, and July feasted on this fact. She’s been calling him Mr. Danny to get on my nerves ever since.
“Oh, whatever.” She bends over, gripping the rim of the sink, and playfully wiggles her highly praised ass. “I’m sure he’ll have you screaming Mr. Danny soon enough.”
“July.” I gasp, my cheeks burning.
“Don’t be such a prude, December.” She laughs and begins to make absurd sex sounds, moaning loud enough I’m sure Mom has dropped the bowl of chips on the floor. “Oh, yeah. Harder, Mr. Danny. Right there, Mr. Danny. Ohhhhh. Don’t stop, Mr. Danny.”
Laughing uncontrollably, I clamp my hand over her mouth. “Shut up, you freaky whore.”
She mumbles a comeback under my palm. It comes out muffled.
I squeeze her lips in return, squashing them between my fingers. “What was that?” My tone is mocking and provoking. I loosen my grasp on her mouth so she can talk.
“I said my man likes it, and I can give you a few pointers on how to satisfy Danny when you’re riding his—”
The door suddenly opens. We both turn our heads and are instantly shocked when we look at Jarvis and all of his dark grunge rock sexuality as he steps through the threshold, quietly closing the door behind him.
Jarvis is tall like the rest of his brothers, a little over six foot. His shoulders are wide and his body is mere lean muscle. His hair falls to his shoulders in black lustrous waves from his widow’s peak. He is covered in tattoos and terrifying self-inflicting scars. Jarvis also has two silver hoops on the left side of his bottom lip. His nipples and tongue are pierced and even his private bits are pierced with some kind of metal.
He folds his Swiss blade back in place, slipping it into the pocket of his faded jeans. July instantly turns into an unresponsive stone under me. I go into defense mode.
“What the fuck are you doing here? The door was locked, you fuckwad. You can’t just go around and pop open locks to other people’s bathrooms.”
He glances at July and then me. His mismatched eyes slowly travels between the both of us, taking in the scene of me over my hunched-over sister, my hand over her mouth. Jarvis has one green eye and one brown eye. They both flare with something intense and dark. He steps forward and then halts when I growl and bare my teeth.
“You wanna let her go, December?”
“She’s the only thing keeping me from punching you in the face. You sure you want me to let her go, Jarvis?”
The muscle in his jaw twitches. “Let her go. Now.”
“Okay.” Releasing my sister, I walk right up to him. He stares into my eyes like I’m his opponent in the boxing ring. His stare is intensely severe and wild. We’re face-to-face when I suddenly ball up my fist and uppercut the fucker. July shouts my name in horror as Jarvis’s head snaps to the side. He shakes it off and laughs, licking the blood from his bottom lip when he faces me.
His fierce glare causes me to shudder. In a move too quick for me to process, he has me against the wall, his hand securely wrapped around my throat, his body molded to mine. Jarvis flexes his fingers, allowing me enough air to breathe but not enough room to move.
Grinning cruelly, he slants his head and places his lips near my ear. “My brother isn’t fucking you right or at all, because you act like you need dick in your life.”
Slapping and clawing at his face, I struggle in his hold.
Nasty, vile words come out of my mouth. This doesn’t affect him at all. He only presses me more into the wall, purposely rubbing the hard contours of his body into mine.
Damn, he’s stronger than he looks.
Fuck.
“You play rough, but I play rougher. You’ll beg first, December.”
July steps toward him, her expression calmer than I expected. “Let her go, Jarvis.”
He narrows his eyes at me and sucks his lip ring into his mouth as if deliberating on her request. “I get that you’re angry, but this feud is between July and me. If you keep this aggressive behavior toward me, you gotta know I’m gonna bite back. I’m not as noble as Danny, December.”
How little you know, I think.
He lets me go, stepping away from me. His irate gaze shifts to July. “We need to talk. Alone.”
She nods as if she already lost the battle. “Okay.”
Rubbing my neck, I stare at their backs as they leave the bathroom.
God, I hate Jarvis.
The sound of my phone interrupts my thoughts. I glance down at Danny’s name and roll my eyes. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I answer with a frustrated, “What?”
“Is that how you answer your phone?”
“It is when I’m not in the mood to talk.”
“You ready? I’m outside.”
I glance at the ornate silver wall clock above the toilet. “It’s only five-thirty. You said eight.”
“I miss you. Eight is too long to wait to see your face. Come outside.”
I breathe in deeply and push my face into my palm, wanting to burst into tears for some absurd reason. I have to force myself to swallow the burn in my throat. “Fine. Give me five minutes to pack.”
“Chloe and I are waiting.”
“I won’t be long.” Disconnecting, I shove my phone in my pocket and walk out the bathroom door with what’s left of my shattered pride. Stopping by the laundry room, I open the dryer door to grab my uniform and pair of fresh underwear. Once I reach my room, I pull my old backpack from the top shelf of my closet. I stuff my clothes inside and tug on the least attractive Pepto-Bismol-pink bubble coat I own. I push my feet into my old black UGG boots and then push my arms through the straps of my backpack and toss the hood of my coat over my head.
December (The Oliver Brothers Book 1) Page 4
