I grab the railing tight and lower my head.
I feel sick.
The balance between good and evil is hard.
Really fucking hard.
“Hey, Mac, the guys are here,” Peg Leg Mikey says.
I nod. “Thanks, bro.”
I turn and see Les, Taz, Raf, Aric, and Ado walking my way.
Jolie crosses the street to go to my car.
I take a deep breath.
We’re here to collect. And then talk to Van and Clay.
I plan on handling business and then taking Jolie either into the ocean or up to the rocks. Or just go back to her place and kill the rest of the day and night together.
I watch her open the door to my car.
Then I move my eyes to Les.
He points to him and Taz and then to the rollerbladers.
I shake my head and hold up two fingers.
I point to Raf and Aric.
Les says something to Raf and he grabs Aric’s shirt.
They break from the group.
“You okay, bro?” Taz asks me.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Whoa, shit, what happened to him?” Les asks, nodding to Hanky.
“Wandering eyes,” I say. “You know what… fuck this… Taz, throw him down the halfpipe.”
Taz cracks his knuckles and goes after Hanky without question.
He picks him up and throws him like he’s a toy.
Les looks back at Jolie, then at me. “Bad day?”
“Bad moment,” I say. “Reality.”
“Shit,” Les says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Yeah, I will. We just need to…”
My eyes move from Les to Jolie.
She’s standing at my car.
With the door shut.
“Oh… fuck…”
I whisper the words and start to run.
Jolie doesn’t have my cigarettes for me.
She’s holding the picture of her I stole.
23
(Jolie)
He shows up and everyone listens to him. He casually bumps into people and shakes their hands, thinking I don’t know what’s happening. He smokes. He drinks. Everything he does and says just screams how bad he is. Not just some bad boy but the ultimate bad boy. The bad guy. A bad man. Everything he does is literally criminal.
I’m in law school… but I don’t have to be in law school to know how bad he is.
And the time that cop stopped us. He controlled the situation. Not that cop. Mac should have been afraid of the cop. But the cop was afraid of him.
What did that mean?
And then the gun.
He has a gun.
He carries a gun like it’s nothing.
Like someone with a pack of gum in their pocket, you know?
And he just tucks it into the back of his jeans.
I’ve touched the gun.
He told me to touch the gun and I did.
I had the gun in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
And then at my apartment… when I got out of the shower after he and I…
All the things in that shower we did to each other. The places his hands touched. The feel of him against me. Inside me. The way he moved and made me feel. So fast. So hard. So bold. Knowing exactly what I needed without asking me. Showing me how to feel things I thought were just myths.
But that day… when I walk into my room and see the gun… I just touch it.
I want to know why. What it means. What it’s like. What he actually does.
How this all works.
Because I’m falling for him. And he’s a criminal. And I’m in law school.
This isn’t supposed to make sense.
But I want it to make sense.
I love him.
The thoughts refuse to let up.
I stand outside Mac’s car, holding a picture of myself.
In my head it’s just images. Or flashes of memories.
His gun. Him smoking a cigarette. His hands touching me. The taste of his mouth. The grunts that growl from deep in his throat when he thrusts at me.
The look in his eyes when he was hitting that guy.
I never saw anything like that.
And now…
“Jolie, look at me.”
I lift my gaze and Mac is hurrying toward me.
I hold the picture out and shake my head. “How?”
“It’s not what you think,” Mac calls out.
“This is a picture of me,” I say. “From last summer. When I was… how did you get this? This is…”
“Sweetie, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Mac says.
I move away from the car.
Away from Mac.
My car is just up the street.
I can run.
I can run and get away from him.
Finally! The smart decision, Jolie. You didn’t listen to Violet. You didn’t listen to yourself.
“Your father is in trouble,” Mac says.
“What?” I ask.
“Your father… I don’t know who he is, sweetie. But he’s in trouble. And that means you’re in trouble too.”
“Me? What do I… what are you talking about, Mac?”
He runs a hand through his hair.
It’s like a different side of Mac is suddenly showing.
He’s the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen in my life.
The dark hair and dark eyes. The muscles, tattoos… the way he smokes cigarettes… and I think that’s gross.
I have never been with someone who smokes.
I have never kissed someone who smokes.
Except for Mac.
He has me all messed up.
Everything I think and believe, he makes me think and believe the opposite.
Mac moves closer to me. “Jolie, he owes money to people. Debts. Okay? And not to a bank.”
“To you?” I ask.
“In a way, yes,” Mac says. “I’m protecting you.”
“Protecting me?” I ask. I look at the picture again. “How?”
“I had to send a message, sweetie,” Mac says. “I was in the house…”
“You were in my parent’s house?” I yell. “This gets crazier by the second.”
“I trashed his room,” Mac says. “And I saw the picture of you. I didn’t know it was your house until then.”
“It’s not my house,” I say. “It’s their house. I don’t live there. Okay? I have nothing to do with them or their marriage.”
“I know that, sweetie,” Mac says. “Believe me. I’m protecting you. Because I trust you. I believe you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Bad? What would happen to me?”
Mac shakes his head. “Jolie…”
My eyes fill with tears.
I suck in a shaky breath.
I hear a whistle behind Mac.
He turns his head.
Les and Taz are waving their hands for him.
“Fuck,” Mac says. “I have to handle business, sweetie.”
“You’re a bad person,” I say. “You’re a criminal, Mac. It’s not just fighting. Or being tough. You do bad things.”
“I warned you,” Mac says. He touches my hand. He touches the picture. “But it’s too late now.”
“Too late? For what?”
“Do you love me?”
“Do I love you? How am I… what do I…”
“Take the picture with you,” he says. “I love you, Jolie. And I’m going to protect you from this. From whatever secrets your father has. Because if I don’t, you’re going to get hurt.”
“I’m hurt right now,” I say.
“Don’t say that, sweetie,” Mac says.
I stare at him.
What is wrong with me? Why haven’t I slapped him across the face? Why haven’t I told him I hate him?
I drop the picture of myself to the ground and move closer to Mac.
I feel safer.
I feel loved.
His hands touch my face.
I shut my eyes for a second.
Run, run, run, run, run…
I open my eyes and he’s moving closer to kiss me.
His lips touch mine.
I shudder and sigh.
I pull away, but only for a second.
Then I kiss him.
I think I’m going to hate myself for it… but I don’t.
I don’t hate myself.
And I don’t hate Mac.
I’m… I love him.
I love Mac.
He kisses me harder.
I kiss him back just as hard.
He pushes me up against his car.
We’re going all out on the side of the street across from the skatepark.
Putting on a show.
I realize that and gently push him away.
He breaks the kiss and looks down at me.
“Sweetie…”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Mac,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to. Just trust me. I’ll protect you from everything happening.”
“I don’t know what that means. What is everything happening? You have to tell me, Mac. I have to know more.”
“You’ll find out.”
“What’s happening behind you? Why are you here right now?”
“I have to collect payment from the skatepark,” he says. “Payment for stuff. Do you need to know what that stuff is?”
I shake my head. “Is that the same… stuff… my father…”
“It’s part of it,” I say.
I swallow hard.
I always knew there were parts of my life that were a lie. That what was shown to the world was fake. But I didn’t realize how much…
“What else are you doing here?” I ask.
“I have to meet with Van and Clay,” he says. “Have to make sure his crew is in line. Then I’m coming over to your place. Okay? And I need to know everything about your family. Everything.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll tell you everything I know. But there’s probably more I don’t know than I do know.”
“That’s a good thing, sweetie. We will fill in the blanks together. Just trust me. Listen to me. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
Mac kisses me.
He backs away and I grab his shirt with my right hand. “I love you, Mac.”
“Oh, fuck, sweetie, I love you too,” he says.
He turns and runs across the road.
And I walk to my car.
All I can do is think.
With each step I take, there’s a decision lingering on the horizon.
Innocence. Evil. Truth.
And I’m somehow stuck between all three.
Being thrown around like a leaf in the wind.
I look back at the skatepark one last time.
I see Mac standing in front of someone.
He takes a swing and hits the guy in the face.
My stomach flips.
I somehow have to get used to that.
I somehow have to get used to being in love with a bad guy.
I have a drink and I take a shower.
I consider that a victory as I wait for Mac.
Each second feels longer than the previous one.
I sit at the table and try to work on stuff, but I can’t focus.
The case file is huge.
I’m digging so deep into this family’s mess… and I think about my own mess.
The one I ran from.
I knew my parents never got along. I knew watching them hold hands in public and kiss wasn’t real.
But I never knew why.
I still don’t know why.
I look at my phone.
There’s a temptation to call my mother.
Or call my father.
I even reach for my phone, but I quickly stop myself.
I can’t do it.
I can’t call them.
If they’re involved with someone bad… and it’s something Mac is involved with, it…
I hurry to stand up and I take a deep breath.
It’s like I have to choose.
Between my family and Mac.
In reality I barely know Mac, right?
Yet at the same time… how much do I know about my family?
I hurry into the kitchen area and get myself another drink.
This time, right from the bottle.
I have to calm myself down.
Mac is coming over soon and he’ll tell me everything.
I’ll tell him what I know.
He’ll hold me. Touch me. Kiss me.
He’ll make everything feel okay again.
There’s a knock at the door and I smile.
Relief washes over me.
I rush to the door as my phone beeps with a text message.
It’s Mac telling me he’s here.
Duh.
I grab the door and unlock it.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” I say with a smile as I open the door.
“I’ve missed you to, baby doll…”
It’s not Mac.
It’s a tall man wearing a mask over his face.
With a gun in his hand.
And I don’t have time to close the door and save myself.
MESS ME UP
Next comes Jolie’s story. Told through her eyes. I know you’re ready darlin’ … so just go to Amazon.com and type in ‘Jaxson Kidman Brooks Crest’ to order your copy today!
Here’s a little preview of what’s to come:
I open my eyes.
The apartment is empty.
Not actually empty, but empty of the man in the black mask with a gun.
You fucking stay way from him and the life. This is your only warning. You’re in too far and you’re going to fucking die. Got that, bitch? Got that?
I cover my ears like he’s in the apartment still.
And I scream.
As loud as I can.
I kick my feet and when I take my hands from my ears, I punch the air.
I look for my phone and it’s right where I had left it.
I can’t move.
I’m sitting on the floor. My floor. In my apartment.
I keep touching myself, checking for a wound. Or a bruise.
I look down at my clothes, afraid I’m going to see clothing missing or feel pain down there…
But I’m okay.
I’m physically okay.
My eyes look to the door.
My teeth chatter.
If you wanna die, bitch, then you keep doing what you’re doing. And if you fucking tell him, I’ll come right back.
Tears roll down my cheeks.
My right hand shakes as I touch my cheek.
I look at my hand and for some reason expect the tears to be blood.
There’s no blood.
I’m not bleeding.
This wasn’t that kind of attack. Or message.
It was mental.
I force myself to turn and I crawl.
I’m crawling across the floor. My apartment floor.
I’m home.
I should be safe here.
It’s my fucking apartment.
My fucking home.
I reach for my phone.
The room starts to spin.
I fall to my left side and burst into tears.
I can’t shut my eyes because when I do I see the door opening. I see the man coming back in. This time with a baseball bat…
I scream again.
And then I’m silent.
My eyes are open for so long they begin to burn.
I stare at the wall where it meets with the carpet.
My eyes focus on a crumb or clump of dust.
My cleaning person sucks…
I laugh.
I roll to my back and laugh. And cry.
My emotions don’t know the difference between any becaus
e fear is now the puppeteer. Dangling strings over me, reminding me that I came this close to dying.
I finally roll back to my belly and put my hands to the floor.
I push myself up and grab for my phone.
I lean against the table.
I look at Mac’s name on my phone.
My thumb moves to text him.
There’s a banging at my door.
***
I scream.
I drop my phone.
I throw a chair to the floor and step back.
Then I fall over again.
The banging continues.
“Jolie?”
“No!” I scream at the door.
“Jolie, it’s me,” a voice says.
Then the door opens.
I scream again but stop when I realize it’s Mac.
He looks around once and then runs toward me.
I put my arms up like I’m completely helpless.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he asks me.
“He was here,” I say. “He cam at me and I fell to the floor…”
“Who? What happened?”
Mac’s eyes are wide. Angry.
Deadly.
I shake my head.
Mac gently touches my face. “What’s going on here, Jolie? Who was here? Who hurt you?”
“A man,” I say. “He was in all black…”
My stomach flips.
I cough.
“I have to throw up,” I say.
“Fuck,” Mac whispers. “Come on, sweetie.”
Mac scoops me up in his strong arms.
I clutch to him and cry.
I feel so weak as I cry.
But I don’t know what else to do in that moment.
He takes me to the bathroom and gently sits me on the edge of the tub.
I look at him.
I can feel my face cold and pale.
“What happened, sweetie?” he asks.
“There was a knock,” I whisper. “I thought it was you. I opened the door and he was there. He had a gun. He was in all black. He had a beanie with holes cut in it for his eyes, nose, and mouth. He came after me…”
I dry heave and then lean forward.
Mac touches my back and I get sick.
My face is now burning red.
Puking in front of Mac? Not on my to-do list for maybe ever.
But it’s too late now.
I’m throwing up like I’ve been drinking all night.
And Mac rubs my back.
He’s silent.
But I can feel him seething. The anger is like a pulsing heat.
Mess You Up (Brooks Crest Book 1) Page 21
