Slammed Page 13

  “Jackie, you’re not ignoring me, are you?”

  Still, I don’t speak, hoping if I stay silent long enough she’ll get bored and go away. I remember reading about the hunting tactic in a magazine once. If confronted with a dangerous animal stay silent, play dead, and they’ll get bored eventually. I hope the same concept applies here. Amelia may not look like a bear, but she’s just as dangerous, I assure you. More silent seconds pass until she speaks again.

  “If you’re not in the mood to talk, maybe Selena is. She seems like the kind of girl I’d get along with.”

  I stop in my tracks at the mention of Selena’s name. It doesn’t sound right falling from her poisonous lips. I turn my head to face her. She sits, high and mighty, in her car, the corner of her lips curled into a lazy, mischievous smile. Her red hair is pulled back by a large, sparkling clip and her red nails curl around the steering wheel.

  “If you so much as step into the same room as Selena ever again, I’ll—”

  She laughs. “You’ll what? What can you do to me that I won’t love, Jackson?”

  I grit my teeth as she rolls her eyes.

  “You’re hurt. At least let me take you somewhere that will help you.”

  I shake my head. I don’t trust her taking me anywhere, not one little bit. A ten-year-old climbing into a car with a stranger has a better chance than I do climbing into Amelia’s. “I turned down Darryl’s invitation to take me to the hospital, what makes you think I’ll accept yours?”

  Amelia sighs. “If you don’t come with me, I’ll turn around and make myself more acquainted with your pretty…whatever she is. If you do, I’ll fix you up and send you on your way, no harm done.”

  I frown. “What’s the catch?”

  Her sharp, dark eyes soften around the edges. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she looks genuine, but I know Amelia, and genuine isn’t a word that can be used to describe her. “I’ve missed you and I want to catch up. That’s all.”

  Her usual husky voice is smooth and vulnerable, a tone I’ve only heard on the darkest nights when she needed someone to care. I feel my resolve wavering. I don’t want it to, but I’m powerless to stop it.

  “You fix my eyebrow, we catch up, and then you leave me alone. Forever. Deal?”

  For the briefest moment, hurt flickers over her countenance. Strangely, it doesn’t make me feel bad. It doesn’t make me feel anything. My emotions are too fried when it comes to her. I’ll be happy never seeing her again. That’s what I truly want and if it means I have to spend a little bit of time explaining that to her, then fine. I can do that.

  “Deal,” she replies with a solid nod of the head. “One night and then you’ll never see me again.”

  It’s a promise I know she won’t keep, but at least it’s a start. At least she knows I have other plans with my life and they don’t involve her.

  ***

  Amelia pulls into the underground parking of the hotel she’s staying in. It’s a glamorous hotel, too glamorous for her old self to have the money for. I wonder what rich bastard she fucked over to set herself up. Even her car is state of the art, filled with classy blue lights and mini touch screens. The old Amelia had a small apartment and a few expensive dresses, but that was the extent of it. It seems the bad people in this world move up faster than the good people. How karma hasn’t decided to fuck her up yet is beyond me. Also, the thought of being alone in her hotel room makes me uncomfortable. I mean, I’m no saint and have made my fair share of mistakes when it comes to sex with other women and Selena. I never really thought about Selena’s feelings before things got serious. Selena is one of a whole bunch of women I’ve had sex with over the past few years. I remember I would tell myself over and over, reminding myself, that she knew what kind of person I was. I often told myself that my behavior was my way of showing her I wasn’t committed to a normal relationship. I could claim that again now and spend one night with Amelia…but it doesn’t feel right. Selena would never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself. I’ve worked way too hard to distance myself from Amelia. I’m not about to let her back in. No fucking way. If I’m being honest, I was hoping Amelia would take us somewhere public. I hate hospitals with a passion, but I’d accept sitting awkwardly in a hospital waiting room over her dark, mysterious chambers any day.

  "You’re going to fix my eyebrow in your pretty hotel room?"

  She smiles sideways at me as she pulls her keys from the ignition. "You’re lucky I brought my kit with me or you’d be in a hospital right now or passed out on the side of the road somewhere."

  Once upon a time, Amelia studied to become a nurse. Sounds sweet enough, except she only took up that line of work to get easy access to drugs. Turned out, it wasn’t as easy as she thought and the hours kept her from ruining people’s lives and she couldn’t possibly have that. She learned the basics about wound care, including stitching—or whatever the medical term for sewing flesh together with a needle and string is.

  “I hope you didn’t get blood on my seat,” she says before opening her door and sliding from the car.

  I glance around. I’m pretty sure I did, but whether or not I care is another story. “It looks like you’ve got the funds to clean it,” I reply a second before she closes the door.

  Grabbing my bag, I open my own door and exit the vehicle.

  She circles the car and adjusts her tiny, gold belt. When she lifts her gaze to meet mine, her lips curve into a pretty smile. “The world has been kind to me in your absence, Jackie.”

  Yeah, I’m not buying it. “Who was he?”

  She raises her eyebrows, her feigned shock about as real as her eyelashes. “Why do you assume it’s money I’ve scammed from someone else? Maybe I worked hard for it.”

  “I don’t doubt you worked hard for it. Scamming, manipulating, and lying can be pretty exhausting.”

  Her perfectly shaped brows pull together. “It really hurts to know you don’t believe me.” She steps closer and my body goes rigid. “I’ve changed. Believe it.”

  How dumb does she think I am? Does she think I’ve forgotten who she is? No one can change her. She’s ice cold, right down to her frozen, rotten core. Not even God himself can save her from underneath the pile of despair and destruction she’s caused.

  “I believe…” I say, pausing slightly. “Hell has a higher chance of freezing over.”

  Amelia watches me, her black eyes glistening, not with tears, no, with a challenge. For her to feel and cry, she actually has to have emotions.

  “I don’t expect you to forget all that I have done…and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I did, but I’m here to fix it, Jackson.”

  I swallow hard. I’ve imagined those words falling from her lips for years, but my visions always ended the same. She can’t fix what she did. She can’t give back what she took from me—what she robbed me of. No human with a heart would forgive her for what she did.

  “You can’t fix it,” I tell her, my voice hoarse and thick with emotion at the thought. “You can’t give me it back. It’s gone, forever.” I grit my teeth and purse my lips before dragging in a slow inhale. “You never gave it a chance.”

  I exhale, swiping my hand over my face. The sooner she stitches me up, the sooner I can get out of here and never have to listen to her again.

  “I—”

  “Can we get this over with?” I interrupt, not wanting to hear any of her lame excuses.

  I want to go home…I want to be alone. With a swift nod, Amelia boosts it and I try to keep up in my battered condition. From the parking lot, we end up in a lobby. From the lobby, we end up in a long hallway, and from the hallway, we end up in her room. It’s massive, decked from floor to ceiling in expensive furniture and classy wallpaper. Whoever Amelia screwed over to get a life like this must have been someone important.

  Poor bastard.

  “Can I get you a drink?” she asks as she makes her way over to the crystalized minibar.

  I shake my head, too da
zed by my surroundings to speak. I was used to fancy hotels. God knows Seth and I have stayed in our fair share, but this one is different. Knowing it’s Amelia’s made it different, more surreal. She’s been living the life this whole time without thought to what I’m going through.

  With a subtle pout, she fetches herself a tiny shot of vodka, I think, and keeps her eyes on me as she tips it down the hatch. She always loved the drink.

  “I see some things haven’t changed,” I comment, blinking back a rogue streak of water filled with blood that rolls down the side of my face, close to my eye.

  Her eyes flare. “So judgemental.” She chuckles darkly, tracing the lip of the bottle with her index finger. “We used to have so much fun. What happened?”

  “It was never fun for me.”

  She snorts, stepping away from the bar. “You’re lying. You loved our crazy nights—at the carnival, in the corn maze, the time we broke into that house and went swimming in their pool. Do you remember?”

  I remember, but those are memories I’ve tried hard to forget. Those are the memories that softened me into thinking Amelia was worth my time. I’ve since come to learn it was all a ruse, a false happiness created by alcohol and drugs. We were only happy when we weren’t in control of our own minds. When we were high, we were happy, but as soon as the low started, god help us.

  “I can’t say I do,” I reply bluntly. “I’m not here to talk about the past. I don’t think about it anymore.”

  A sour expression zips over her features as she watches me from twelve feet away. “All that history…” she mutters, tucking a rogue stand of hair behind her ear. “Wasted.”

  It’s not wasted. They say we learn our history so we don’t repeat the same mistakes. Still, I nod anyway. With a heavy sigh, she points across the room to the small, sideless leather recliner.

  “Sit. I’ll get my box.”

  She doesn’t need to ask me twice. I get it done. I get out. That’s that. Dropping my bag, I amble across the room, ignoring the raging thump in my head and face. I lower myself into the recliner with a groan. It’s not the most comfortable chair. It has no sides, which means no arm rests to lean on and the foot stool in front of it seems kind of pointless if this chair reclines. Amelia disappears from the room only to return a second later with a small, metal tool box. She only bought it because of the fights I used to get in and she knew how much I disliked hospitals. That being said, why does she still have it? Amelia isn’t one to involve herself in any activity that will damage her skin, so I doubt she’s kept it for herself. I’m putting my money on another man. Maybe she had someone else to patch up after she grew tired of me. A thought that would once provoke white hot rage now passes through my head, evoking no emotion. Is it possible? Am I finally done with Amelia Petrovic?

  She crosses the room until she’s between my legs. It’s a familiar scenario—a memory of Selena, not Amelia. I don’t watch as she plucks all of the tools she’s going to need from her little tool box, and when she’s ready, I expect her to lower herself onto the foot stool in front of the recliner, like any normal person would. Instead, she hikes up her dress and climbs onto me, resting the inside of her thighs on either side of mine. My whole body tightens, coiling painfully.

  “Amelia,” I groan. “Get off.”

  “Don’t be a baby.” She huffs, slapping my chest. “I have to be close enough to see what I’m doing.”

  The amusement is heavy in her voice and I hope she heard the unwillingness in mine. I clench my jaw as she pulls Darryl’s shirt away and replaces it with a burning alcohol swab. I hiss and wince, much to her delight. Every time I flinch away from her touch, she squeezes her thighs together and chuckles under her breath. She’s always liked inflicting pain—physical or emotional, it doesn’t matter. She’ll do anything for a reaction.

  Surprisingly, I feel nothing as she straddles my thighs, her warmth heating my skin. The guilt heavy in my chest prevents it. I shouldn’t be here with Amelia. It’s not fair, and if Seth knew, holy shit, if he knew, he’d burn this entire hotel to the ground and then beat my ass with its rubble.

  “Do you need an anaesthetic?” she asks and I shake my head.

  Feeling the pain is something I need right now. If I feel the pain, I can close my eyes. If I can’t, I’m forced to look at her face. Threading the piece of string through the needle, she lifts it to my eyebrow and I close my eyes. The initial sharp sting is almost unbearable. I dig my fingers into the bottom of my chair, gritting my teeth until they creak. Then, the pain stops and a strange pulling sensation tugs at my brow, followed by a warm trickle of sticky blood over my eyelid.

  “I’m about to put it back through. You sure you don’t need the anaesthetic?”

  I don’t open my eyes. “No.”

  “Suit yourself, tough guy.”

  I feel the string hit my face and sag heavy with the weight of the hook. Then I feel her hands on mine as she pries them from the leather and places them on her thighs. “Something a little nicer to squeeze,” she states, her voice low and husky.

  I open my eyes and frown at her, but she avoids my stare and regains control of the suture. I’m about to pull my hands away before she harshly digs the needle into my tender flesh. Naturally, my hands clamp down and my fingers dig into her thigh muscles. Above the swearing and the screaming in my own head, I hear her breath hitch and she bears down on her hips, forcing herself harder against me. Over and over her hook enters and exits my flesh. By the ninth time, my entire face is numb and I feel like passing out. A decent amount of blood has covered my face, but most of it is dry. Nothing new flows.

  “All done,” she says after a while, raising the scissors and cutting the string.

  Ignoring my tight, pulsing eyebrow, I remove my hands from her thighs and clear my throat. “Thank you.”

  “You can shower here before you go home to—” Her lips purse briefly. “Wherever you’re going.”

  I don’t want to say it, but the urge is too overwhelming. The thought of hurting her, even a little, by mentioning another woman’s name will be satisfying beyond anything else I can imagine.

  “Selena’s. I’ll go home to her.”

  Amelia’s eyes narrow, taking on a more aggressive edge than hurt. “You know, I don’t recall you ever being in to blondes.”

  I can’t help my lips from twitch at the corners. “Yeah, well, try being with a redhead. They’re so much worse.”

  Our eyes lock for a period of time—seconds or minutes—I don’t know. A lot of information is traded in that small period. Amelia wants me back, she’s jealous of Selena and she’s willing to do anything to have me again. In return, I hope Amelia sees that I don’t have the same feelings for her I once did and I hope she sees her behavior has ruined any chance of us being together again. I won’t allow it…

  I won’t survive it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jackson

  I shower quickly, careful not to soak the dressing on my brow under the harsh flow of water. I rest the palms of my hands against the glass and let the scalding stream hit my back, washing tonight away. I lost my first fight. It still hasn’t sunk in, and as much as I want to blame Amelia for it, I can’t. It was my fault I got distracted. It was my fault I let her appearance get to me. This cut on my brow is going to put me out for weeks—months even. By the time Selena’s father comes back, I’ll have little money to impress him with.

  Fathers are hard…and I want to impress hers so bad. Granted, that ship has sailed, considering I punched him in the mouth a while back, but in my defense, I wasn’t myself that day—and the way he spoke to Selena—I couldn’t stomach it. Again, I know I’ve said worse, but that’s my problem. No one else is allowed to hurt her feelings—not her father, not anybody.

  Over the roar of the jets, I hear the bathroom door creak open and I snap my head up to see Amelia making a sly entrance, biting back a smile.

  “I brought your bag,” she says as she sets it on the basin and leans again
st it.

  I almost sag in relief at the thought of being in a pair of jeans and soft socks. I wait for a second or two, expecting her to leave. She doesn’t, and in this moment, I’m thankful for the steam that shields me from her stare. “Is that all?”

  “Maybe I’ll linger for a little while longer.”

  I glance at my hands. The skin is pale and wrinkled. I’ve already been in here far too long.

  “Get out.” I’m surprised by my own voice. I’ve never heard it sound so tired, defeated and cold.

  Her subtle grin becomes wide and wolfish. “Shy? If I recall your body correctly, Jackie, you have nothing to be shy about.”

  I don’t speak, only stare. Stepping out of this shower naked right now is like swimming in the ocean with a line of dead fish strapped to my belt. For my own sanity, I cannot be in that situation with her. I will not be in that situation with her. My strength is the only thing keeping her from devouring me.

  With a dramatic exhale, she throws her hands up and heads back towards the door. “Fine. I’ll wait for you out here.”

  The moment she leaves and firmly closes the door behind her, I shut off the shower and step out on to the fluffy, red bathmat. I reach out for the nearest towel and wrap it low on my hips, not bothering to dry the rest of my body. The air is warm and the water on my skin will dry quickly. The only thing I need to do right now is get dressed and get out of here. The large mirror that covers the expanse of the west wall is fogged and I’m grateful for it. I’m not sure I have the stomach to look at myself right now. I can only imagine my face isn’t a far cry from completely demolished. It sure feels like it, and tomorrow it’ll be worse.

  I reach into my bag and retrieve my jeans, my shoes, and my socks. From the floor, I grab my black polo and awkwardly shrug it on. I decide to leave Darryl’s polo and my fighting shorts on the floor. Amelia can deal with those. Pulling off my towel, I slide into my jeans and put on my socks before finally slipping into my shoes. My feet welcome the padding. The short walk on the gravel did a number on the soles of my feet. The sensations that race along the surface, from heel to toe, resembles fire. I’m sure a nice soak in some ice or a foot rub will fix them right up. I wonder if Selena will feel up for it later. I smile as I imagine her scowl. I disappear after the fight only to show up later asking for a foot rub. She’d kick my ass.