by K. A Knight
I head to her house, pulling up in the drive, and take the steps in one big leap before knocking on the door. The music is loud, and I can smell the alcohol and cigarettes even before the door opens and an older version of Scarlett answers. I’ve only met her once, but she left an impression. “Good evening, Ms. Richards, could I speak to you for a moment?”
“Got bored fucking my little girl and now want the older, more experienced one?” She laughs, blowing smoke right in my face.
“May I come in?” is all I say, trying to remain polite.
She nods, heading back into the house. “Hey, Jeff, looks like you were wrong! That man next door wants to fuck me too, so fuck you!” she screams, and I crinkle my nose as I close the door behind me. Christ, no wonder Scarlett wants to move out. The living room is a mess and I don’t bother sitting down, I don’t want to get stuck by a needle or worse, pounced on by her mother. Jeffrey stumbles into the room, clearly drunk, and points at me.
“Your little cock tease isn’t in,” he calls, and Ms. Richards smacks him around the back of his head and grabs the bottle from his hand, drinking from it as she slumps on the sofa, opening her legs, her dress exposing her all the way. I keep my eyes on her face and raise my eyebrow.
“Want a drink, pretty boy?” she asks, trying to pass me the bottle, using it as an excuse to try and grab me.
I step away, even as Jeffery grabs her hair and yanks her back, but she just laughs. Fucking hell, I thought I was messed up. “I’m here to make you a deal,” I shout, cutting through their bullshit. Ms. Richards’ eyes narrow on me as Jeffrey cuts off the music.
“What kind of fucking deal?” she questions, dropping the trying to seduce me act.
“In my pocket is thirty grand, enough to cover the bills on this house for a year and sustain…your vices,” I start, but she cackles, cutting me off.
“She ain’t for sale.” She grins and Jeff laughs. “What? You couldn’t get her so you’re trying to buy her? I don’t think so, who else would clean around here and give me something to look at.”
Her mother doesn’t even blink at this, whereas my hands have curled into fists, but I breathe through the anger, reminding myself why I can’t kill them. “The money is for you, Scarlett will be moving out—”
“Like fuck she will!” Jeffrey hollers, but I glare at him.
“Sit the fuck down and listen before I make you,” I demand, my anger finally snapping.
He does as he’s told, for once, and I carry on, “She’ll be moving out, you will not be told where, nor will you visit her. If she wants to visit you, that’s her choice. You will let her go, let her have her own life. I don’t care what you do with the money, shoot it up, drink it away, but you will let her leave and you will not follow.”
“Or what?” her mum snarls, her eyes narrowed even through the alcohol and drugs in her system.
“Or there will be no money and she leaves anyway, only this time, I’ll ensure she leaves without you following her. I’ll have you both arrested and put away for drug abuse and selling, and for you, Jeffery, sexual harassment. If I remember correctly, they’re still looking at you for a few unsolved cases. I’ll make the charges stick and you will never see the light of day again, that I promise you. So take the money.” I pull it out and hold it between us.
Her mother watches us, her eyes filled with intelligence for once. “Fine, do whatever the fuck you want with her.” She grabs the money and I scoff in disgust. She doesn’t give a fuck about her kid at all. Scarlett is better off without them.
“You will not look, touch, or go near her until she moves out. I’ll know, and Jeffrey, I’ll be watching, so stay the fuck away, because I’m waiting for an excuse to kick your ass for scaring her,” I snarl, and then I turn and leave, heading back to watch her finish her shift at work.
The plan is in motion. The new apartment should be ready by the end of the week, and then she can be free like she always wanted.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Scarlett
Tomorrow is Halloween, Max and I had planned a night of junk food and bad horror movies. Instead, I try to pick up a shift, but they don’t need me, so I head home with my heart low. When I get there, I cringe when I walk into the living room to see the perv and my mum there, partying away, but they ignore me completely.
Strange.
Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I go to grab some food only to realise I haven’t been food shopping for a while. It was only me who did it, and with me being at Max’s all the time, I didn’t need to anymore. Hungry and tired, I head to my room and flip the lock before collapsing on my bed, my eyes shutting almost instantly. My dreams are filled with Max, and when I wake up alone and cold in bed, I almost cry again, but instead I get up and strip before getting under the covers and going back to sleep.
I end up sleeping in after being plagued by old memories and nightmares until the sun finally rose, and then I slept peacefully. I have to get ready fast so I don’t miss the bus, and it’s only on my way to university that I realise I left my phone at home. Great. I jump off the bus and grab the next one home, snatching my phone and running for the bus again. Now I’m late as hell, but at least my phone isn’t lying around for my mum to sell or use.
Nadia is waiting for me when I get there and I ignore her questions, instead turning her attention to her family, which she happily updates me on as we walk to our seminars.
Luckily, I have a busy day, and when it’s time for design lab, I sit down and throw myself into work, not letting myself linger on thoughts of Max. I can’t, otherwise I’ll go crazy. I turn up my music and block everyone out, including Josh who looks hurt, but he nods when I explain I need to finish this piece for the evaluation next week.
Hours pass and my vibrating phone brings me out of my design haze. Picking it up, I check my messages, and my heart freezes at the name lighting up the display—the image of Max and me in costumes behind it.
Hottie Next Door: I’m sorry.
That’s all it says, but my heart melts and I sigh. I hover over the text, debating whether to reply. He hurt me, badly, and as much as I care, even love the man maybe, he was right. Maybe we shouldn’t be together, maybe I need some time to think about that, so I close the message without replying and try to lose myself in my work again. But it’s no use, my mind is replaying our conversation and locked on the message.
Have I done the right thing? Should I reply?
Just then my phone rings, making me jump in my seat. Pulling out my headphones, I stand up and leave the design room, not wanting to disturb anyone. Pacing in the hallway, I answer.
“Hello?” I answer softly.
“Cherry Pie, thank God, can you cover Jewel? She’s gone home sick and we’re short. Work until midnight? I’ll give you double time!” Guy pleads.
“I want the VIP floor,” I haggle.
“Done,” he agrees instantly.
“I’ll be there in an hour.” I hang up and let out a relieved sigh. It’s probably for the best. At least there, I’ll be too busy to focus on my muddled heart and Max.
Heading back into the lab, I grab my stuff, drop a friendly kiss goodbye on a distracted Josh’s face, and rush out of the lab. I need to get home and grab my uniform, so I’ll be cutting it close.
I manage to catch the bus just before it pulls away, and when I get home, I grab my stuff, get dressed, and ignore the people sleeping on the sofa, and then head back to the bus stop. Luckily, I only have to wait five minutes for the next one, and I grab a seat upstairs and close my eyes, leaning back and waiting for my stop.
When I open them again, we’re around the corner, so I press the bell and head downstairs, waiting for the bus to stop and the doors to open. After thanking the driver, I rush across the street, ducking my head as it starts to rain, and head around back to put my stuff away.
The door is propped open and Guy is smoking there. When he sees me, his face lights up. “Thank God!” he exclaims and I wink.
“I’ve been called worse,” I joke, and he laughs as I dart inside, heading straight for the changing rooms. Throwing my bag in a locker, I tie my hair back, grimacing at the bags under my eyes. There’s nothing I can do about them now, so I paste a fake smile on my face and grab a tray, heading up to the VIP section.
It’s surprisingly busy today, with a hen party downstairs and businessmen coming in for lunch. My tip pile is getting bigger and bigger, and my smile turns real as I dance behind the bar to the music, pulling a pint for some university lecturers who have come in complaining about students.
I make sure to keep their drinks full as I deliver the meals to the waiting tables, and as the hours pass, I lose myself in the mindless work. I keep my customers happy and my area cleaned, and before I know it, the men are coming to change it over for the night. I go for my break, and when I come back, the music is in full swing, the tables are moved for the booths, the lights are strobing, and the drinks are flowing. It’s slow at first, until the night gets later, and then it’s so busy I barely have time to pee.
When my shift is over, my back is aching, my feet are tired, and I’m a sweaty, sticky mess thanks to a drunk customer throwing a shot down my front. Grabbing my leather coat, I huddle in it and toss my bag my over my shoulder, waving goodbye to the other servers before heading out. I’ve missed the last bus, but with the amount of tips I got, I decide to splurge and get a taxi home.
I feel guilty as soon as I get into the leather seat of the black cab and give him my home address, my mind caught on what I could do with that money. I only breathe easier when I spot my street. I pass over the money reluctantly and slip from the black cab, eyeing my darkened house. That’s weird.
My eyes wander to Max’s. His living room light is on and my phone burns a hole in my pocket, but I force myself up my driveway and not his. The door is even locked when I get there, which is even stranger. Maybe they have gone out? It does happen every now and again, and means I might be able to get a good night’s sleep without all that music blaring.
Shivering in my coat, I grab my keys, eager to get inside and have a warm shower. I hear some kids laughing down the street and I blink, realising it’s Halloween. Maybe I can sit downstairs and watch a movie while they’re gone?
The door unlocks and I hurry inside, not bothering to turn on a light as I head upstairs and take off my shoes and jacket, laying them on my bed with my bag. The moon is coming through my window, giving me enough light to grab some pyjamas from my drawer when my eyes catch on something.
Freezing, I look around quickly, frowning when I notice the room is empty. It must have been my mother’s boyfriend. My panty drawer is open and looks like someone has been rummaging around in it. Cringing, I close the drawer, leaving it until tomorrow. I’ll have to wash them all. The thought of him touching my delicates is too much to handle.
Wincing still, I head to the bathroom, I won’t let him ruin my night alone for the first time in weeks. I don’t bother shutting the door behind me as I lean over and turn on the shower, the sound of the water hitting the basin loud in the quiet house.
I hear my phone vibrate in the other room and debate leaving it, but it might be important. “Shit,” I mutter, leaving the shower running as I move back to my phone and pull it from my bag.
A picture message from Randy lights up the screen. Fucking hell, if this is his penis I’m going to be pissed. What makes men think it’s what you want to see? I mean, who looks at a dick pic and is like, “Yass baby, that’s so hot, exactly what I wanted at 1am, a purple-headed monster staring at me.” Idiots.
Already regretting it, I open the message, my blood running cold at the image waiting for me. It’s not a dick pic…it’s much, much worse.
It’s a picture of me, obviously from tonight, in my bedroom staring down at my open underwear drawer. Clutching my phone to my chest, I spin around, backing into a wall and flicking the light on. The picture was taken from inside my room…my eyes go to the half open wardrobe, which is cast in shadows. Fuck that.
My phone vibrates in my hands and I juggle it to open the message—another picture, this time of me staring down at my phone. Fuck this. If he thinks I’m opening that goddamn wardrobe like some fucking idiot woman in a horror story who gets herself killed, he has another thing coming.
I load up my dialling screen. “Randy, I know that’s you, I’m about to ring 911 unless you stop this prank and get the fuck out of my house. I don’t even care how you got in, just get out!” I yell, but my voice is shaking. Keeping my fingers over the dial button, I reach along the wall, looking for something to use as a weapon.
When he doesn’t burst out of the wardrobe laughing, a shiver goes down my spine. Fuck this shit. I grab the closest thing to me, which turns out to be a bloody deodorant can, and keep my face turned towards the wardrobe as I start to edge out of the room.
“You’ve gone too far this time!” I yell. I’ll go to a neighbour’s and wait while the police come. I don’t care if his dad is loaded, this is just fucked up, even for him.
As I get to the doorway, the sound of the running shower cuts off. Fuck. Spinning, I press my back against the hallway wall so I can see my bedroom and the bathroom. “Seriously, I’m ringing the police and you will be in big fucking shit. This isn’t even funny, nor the way to get to me to go out with you!”
Steam drifts into the darkened hallway from the bathroom as I slide across the wall. I suck in a breath when I reach the open bathroom door, and despite my better judgement, I peer inside. The shower curtain is pulled across the room, steam wafting everywhere as I squint to see through it, and when I do and my eyes adjust, I swear and turn on my heel, racing to the stairs.
I saw a silhouette behind the fucking curtain. Screw this. Laughter trails from behind as I take the steps two at a time, almost falling like those stupid heroines in my rush to get out of the house. When my foot lands on the bottom step, the wood creaks from my weight the lights flicker on in the living room, blinding me.
I gasp, recoiling back from the sight before me. “Hello, beautiful, want to play with us?”
A hand lands on my shoulder from behind, digging in, and guides me forward as they laugh.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maximus
She hasn’t texted me back. Tugging at my beard, I throw the phone across the room, stopping myself from spam texting her to get her to reply. I knew what I was doing, I was the one who pushed her away, after all…but now that she’s gone, I realise what a fucking idiot I am.
I love her, she cares for me, why does anything else matter? I’m a rat bastard, she’s a fucking angel, but together we work. Why did I think I could let her go?
Three days, it took me three fucking days to come to the conclusion that I don’t want to lose her. Three days too late?
She did warn me that if I kept pushing her away, it might be too late...surely it isn’t? Fuck, the idea of her moving on with someone else, someone better for her, has me almost seeing red, so I suck in calming breaths. No, she’s probably mad at me. That has to be it.
Milo whines, laying his head on my knee, and I let go of my hair and stroke his head. “I know, I miss her too. I’ll get her back, I promise.”
He huffs at me and I narrow my eyes on him. “I will,” I snap.
He turns his back on me and curls up on the floor, ignoring me. “Fuck, are you mad at me too?” I grumble, resting my head on the back of the sofa, staring up at the decorations we hung together.
I couldn’t bring myself to take them down, although I knew I should. I haven’t seen her come home yet, even though I’ve been obsessively staring out of the window. Maybe she’s working? Or still at the university? I debate driving to both to check on her, but it’s already really late and I might miss her as she comes home. No, I’ll wait, if she’s not home in an hour or so, I’ll go find her and beg her on my fucking knees to take me back if I have to.
No more holding back, no more lies or half-truths
, she can have all those demons if that’s what she wants, as long as she forgives me. Because her and I are meant to be together, fate and all that shit, and I know my world isn’t complete without Scarlett Richards.
I hope hers isn’t complete without me, because I’m never leaving her again. She can’t get rid of me this time, no matter what. Sighing, I lift my head, looking out of the window at her dark house again.
I haven’t seen her mum leave, but maybe she’s passed out somewhere, who knows. Getting up, I head to the kitchen to make something to eat while I wait for her. As long as I know she’s home safe, I’ll be happy. While the kettle boils to fill the noodles, I peek into the living room, spotting her bedroom light flick on, and I finally relax.
I eat my noodles alone in the kitchen, and after I’m done, I get changed into some shorts and a tank top and head downstairs to workout. I might as well get rid of some of this frustration, since it’s not like I’ll sleep for a while. I can feel it tonight. The demons are close, my nightmares will be vivid.
Tomorrow, I’ll win her back. Tonight, I’ll let all my demons out to play.
Apt since it’s Halloween.
“Play music,” I call once I’m downstairs, and when rock starts blasting through the speakers, I lose myself to the rhythmic sound of my fists hitting the punching bag. Memories crowd my head, men and women dying. Blood on my hands. Milo’s slack, pale face speckled with his own blood, his helmet off to the side.
