I found the gym bag where Jude had put all my bottles in at the back of his closet. Rick was in the living room watching TV and I managed to sneak back in my room without being noticed, the music playing on my record player keeping my movements from being heard.
I went to my bathroom, taking out the bag of coke from my pocket and spreading it over the sink, leaving some for later. I opened the bottle of scotch that I had taken and took a large swig, wincing as it stung on the way down. And without hesitation, I sniffed the two lines in quick succession. I took another swig from the bottle, chasing it down.
I closed my eyes as a new song began, the perfectly flawed guitar riffs making my spine tingle. I took another swig.
I want you, I want you so bad
I want you, I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad
I want you, I want you so bad babe
I want you, I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad
I swayed along the rhythm, moving my hips languidly. The lyrics were simple and repetitive but unique on its own right. The structure of each note and rough riff of the guitar filled with so much sensuality I could feel it from the tip of my fingers to my core.
I want you, I want you so bad
I want you, I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad
I want you, I want you so bad
I want you, I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad
She's so heavy
Heavy, heavy, heavy
The music stopped and I snapped my eyes open, seeing Rick standing by the doorway, watching me in quiet disapproval. I rolled my eyes, and carried on dancing and drinking.
"Your brother called," he muttered, his eyes glancing at the bottle in my hand. "He says he's gonna be coming home late. His study group is meeting to cram for a test."
I stilled as I was about to take another swig.
While personal training was the excuse Jude labeled his therapy sessions, study group, however, meant he was out for a fuck with the contracted whore he's kept on retainer for years. It occurred very rarely it was almost virginal of him, but I had recognized a pattern at some point. He only met with his study group whenever he was losing his shit, and crying to his shrink about it wouldn't soothe him.
Our father bent me to his will with pain and flat out torture, but Jude was molded into his image through expert control. As children, he'd make Jude watch him beat me, and whenever Jude tried to interfere, the harder I was beaten. Whenever Jude disobeyed an order, Father would put a revolver to my head to make him reconsider. He'd pull the trigger even. At every click of an empty chamber, Jude's resolve would crumble until he invetiably submitted. The most he lasted was three trigger pulls, which ended with me nearly having a bullet to my head if Father hadn't moved the barrel so that the gunshot only rendered me deaf in one ear for half a year.
Since then, Jude's obsessive need to be in control of everything defined his very being. Whenever it was threatened, he would lose his mind. More often than not, I was the threat to his perfectly controlled world. The disastrous event from last night must have pushed him off balance more than he let on. No wonder he didn't personally escort me for the tests.
The thought my brother was spiraling because of me sent a bitter pang to my chest. Guilt, I identified it to be. I was supposed to be the pillar he leaned on. The right hand who wielded his sword. The one person who always stood beside him so he never faced anything alone, even if the world was against him. Yet all I did was burden him, and all he could do to keep himself together was drown in some worthless fuck.
He should just let me die.
As I was becoming consumed by the dark thoughts my demons filled my inebriated brain, Rick had approached me, taking the bottle from my hand and reading the label.
"50 year old Macallan. Expensive shit. Not worth dying for though." He looked at me and I blinked my eyes, trying to focus on him. "Tell me, was anything you said actually true or did you only say those things so I'd get off your back long enough to sneak a quick drink?"
"Not my fault you made it so easy," I said, grabbing at the bottle but he held it away.
He shook his head, sighing. "Jude warned me that you'd try using your tricks on me. I didn't think you were this good."
I scoffed. "Please, I didn't even have to try. You're the most gullible idiot I've ever met."
"Is that so?"
He went to the bin next to the desk and then slowly, he tilted the bottle upside down, letting the drink spill into the bin.
"Well, you're shit out of luck. You're stuck with this gullible idiot all day."
I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to beat my fists into his smug face. "Get out."
He laughed humorlessly, throwing the bottle into the bin. "I'm going to get a kick out of making you miserable, Miss Lastor."
I was seething with sudden rage. I wanted to tear him to pieces but I didn't. One thing I knew about people like him was that fucking with their conscience and drowning them in guilt was worse than any form of physical pain.
So, I went big. Dropping to my knees and sobbing loudly. I bent over, gripping the back of my head as I forced tears out of my eyes.
"I'm so tired. Everything hurts," I cried, pulling at my hair. "It won't stop. I just want it to stop. Why won't it stop?"
I heard him approach me. Felt him touch my shoulder as he shushed me and pulled me into his arms. I let him hold me, burying my face in his chest as I cried harder.
This guy just couldn't help it. He just had to do the right thing all the fucking time.
He drew back, his eyes roaming around my face in apparent concern and then slowly, he wiped my tears away so gently it was as if he was scared I'd break. His hands cupped my cheeks as tears stopped flooding my sight. He looked relieved and for a moment, our eyes locked.
I didn't give him the pleasure of thinking and pressed my lips against his, kissing him deeply as he held my head in place. I stifled a smile as he began to kiss me back, gripping the front of his shirt. But before I could go further, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against mine.
"You… really..." he whispered, nipping my bottom lip lightly. "Think you can play with me, huh?"
He kissed me again, shoving his tongue in my mouth. I pushed him away, clambering off him while he simply snickered, leaning back with his palms pressed to the floor.
I should just break something of his. Or cut him somewhere deep. Make him bleed and crawl back to wherever he came from. Or perhaps fuck him so good, he wouldn't know what to do with himself without my pussy around his cock. I'd make him mine and ruin him beyond repair. It would be so easy.
Jude would eventually forgive me for touching one of his cherished people. He cherished me the most, after all.
As I met eyes with Rick, I resolved to be his demise. He only smirked as if he knew and didn't give a damn.
"Next time, don't be too obvious," he said with a smug look on his wretched face. "It's just laughable."
I remained silent and reminded myself I couldn't kill. It was the only promise I made to Gramps that I had managed to keep all these years. I needed to keep at least that promise.
Rick tilted his head, raking his gaze over me. "I see it now, how you can easily manipulate people." He sat up, rubbing a finger along his bottom lip. "You read them. Figure out what makes them tick. And then you use it against them in the most callous way." He leaned forward, caging me in with his arms at either side of me. "I think it's pathetic that you have to resort to manipulation every time you don't get your way."
Should I just kill him?
Gramps was dead. One kill wouldn't be so unforgivable.
Rick stood before I gave in to the darkness my demons were steadfastly consuming me with.
"I'll give you credit though, I did make it easy for you. The first time, that is."
He turned for the door and I stared after him, carefully keeping myself restrained. I needed a justification. No matter how much Jude cherished me, touching one of his people just because he was pissing me off wouldn't be so easily accepted. On the contrary, he'd scorn me for being sloppy. Jude never forgave incompetence.
A cause. A flaw. A threat. A malicious intent. I needed any one thing. Just one and he'd be gone.
"Why are you really here, Rick?" I asked as he was stepping out to the hall.
He looked over his shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm just here to help out a friend, Angel."
I looked at him intently, trying to see through him but he wasn't even trying to hide anything. There was no hint of malice or hidden agenda. He was just... genuine. It was unnerving.
What right did I have to touch this man? He was good. Beautiful. So fucking perfect it was driving me crazy trying to figure out how he could possibly be real.
To ruin him would be my greatest sin. I wouldn't forgive myself.
* * *
I shifted on my bed, glancing at the wide open door and glaring when I heard Rick cheer at the TV. I turned my head to the bedside table to see what time it was, 3:24. I needed a drink and I was done playing nice.
I closed my laptop and swung my legs off the bed, quickly fetching my boots and jacket as I headed out of my room. Rick was watching a football game on TV and I walked briskly towards the front door without looking at him. When I sensed him stand, I ran for it.
"Hey!"
I ignored him and went for the emergency stairwell. I pushed myself to run faster, trying so hard to put distance between us but he was almost just behind me and I was already out of breath.
"Fuck off!"
"Stop already!" he said and in an instant, he grabbed my arm, stilling me.
I was panting, my hands on my knees as I tried to keep my balance. Rick was just standing with his arms folded across his chest, barely showing any hint that he just ran three flights of stairs. I could feel cold sweat trickle down my back and nausea fill my head.
"Why'd you run?"
I pushed myself up and walked towards the elevator, slapping the button to summon the car.
"Where are you going?"
I closed my eyes as black spots filled my vision and placed a palm on the wall to keep myself upright.
"Angel."
"Will you shut up for a sec?" I snapped, clutching my head.
I let out a breath, opening my eyes when the elevator pinged. I dropped myself inside and put on my boots, ignoring Rick as he stood beside me. He kept wordlessly following me as I headed down to the underground garage and I was too exhausted to bother getting rid of him.
He can come for the ride for all I care, as long as he shut the fuck up.
I drove to the nearest convenience store, purchasing a pack of cigarettes and casting Rick a warning glare as I lit up a stick. He didn't say anything.
I drove for a while, not really knowing where to go. Neither of us spoke, the silence becoming filled by the sonata playing in the car. I somehow ended up at the marina nearly an hour later. I got out of the car, inhaling the scent of the ocean.
I walked up to the dock, eyeing the yachts and boats surrounding the area. I saw Little Angel in the midst of them. A steel-made four leveled, 320 ft vessel with a helipad on top. The propulsion plant consisted of two KHD-MWM diesel engines with a power of 5060 kW with controllable pitch propellers and could run for over 20 knots. She had been listed among the largest private yachts in the world and has seen many a great parties in her prime. And my pretentious brother owned her.
"Doyle?" I called out as I climbed aboard.
A series of metals dropping and shuffling resounded underneath me. A moment or two later, a man covered in grease walked out of the cabin. He froze when he saw me.
"Miss Lastor," Doyle stammered out, flustering to brush his hair. "I didn't know you were coming. I would have-"
I held up a hand, stopping him. "I wanna go sailing."
He blinked repeatedly. "Now?"
"Would it be a problem?"
He shook his head vigorously. "No, no, of course not. It's just... Mr. Lastor wasn't so pleased after what happened the last time."
"I'm not throwing a party, Doyle. I just want to get away for a while. A few hours at most."
"Oh." He scratched his head. "Does Mr. Lastor know?"
I folded my arms across my chest, giving him a hard glare. He visibly drew back. "If you won't let me take her out, I know someone who owns a bigger boat and His Royal Highness would gladly have me as a guest. But then I'd probably disappear and the next time you see me, I'll either be pregnant or dead. Neither would please my brother." I took a step forward, smiling. "Now, all I want is a few hours. I won't do anything stupid. You trust me, don't you?"
He pursed his lips, looking uncertain. "Just you?"
I looked over my shoulder, seeing Rick standing at one corner, staring in awe at the deck. "He's coming with me, I guess."
"I don't have any crew with me."
"Call them then. We'll wait. I have all day," I said, patting him on the shoulder as I headed inside. "Is the bar stocked?"
"Ye-yes."
I strode up the stairs purposefully, sniffing out the bar inside the parlor. I let out a breath of satisfication at the sight of the rows of alcohol neatly placed behind the bar. I went around the counter, quickly making myself a drink.
"I never knew the true meaning of impulsive until I met you."
I turned, seeing Rick watching me from across the counter. I gave him a smile.
"I like to think I'm spontaneous and exciting," I said, taking a sip of my drink. "Want some?"
He looked at me almost suspiciously. "What's your deal?"
I arched a brow. "My deal?"
"Yeah. A few hours ago you had a knife to my throat and now you're offering me a drink," he muttered. "What is up with you? Are you bipolar or something?"
I chuckled. "Surprisingly, I'm not. At least that's what the shrink told me. But then again, I was never cooperative during my counseling sessions."
"So that part was true. About your probation."
I smirked. "Everything I've told you so far is true. I rarely exhaust myself with lying."
"And yet you find manipulation a necessity for everyday life."
I laughed. "Damn, you really don't give a shit about who I am, huh?"
"Am I supposed to?"
"Most people think they should." I looked at him in wry amusement. "But you're not like most people, are you?"
He shrugged. "I try to be more than a mere statistic in the annual census."
I smiled. "By saving one hopeless soul at a time."
"That's the dream."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "So I take it I'm your latest project then?"
He leaned on the counter, regarding me intently. "Nah. You're not hopeless, just a little lost."
I took a step closer to him, leveling with him as I leaned on the counter. "So what are you planning to do about it?" I whispered, bringing my face closer to his. "You gonna guide me back to a righteous path and make an honest woman out of me, Frederick?"
He swallowed hard. "I don't think that's within my reach."
"Too bad," I murmured, edging closer to him. "I almost thought you were the one."
He was staring at me and I was sure he was holding his breath. "Stop playing tricks on me," he said in a rasp.
I smiled, brushing our lips together ever so slightly. "Why? Scared you'll fall for it?"
He breathed in deeply, his eyes locked with mine. "Yes, I am."
I held his gaze quietly, no longer smiling. "Leave, then."
"Make me," he said brusquely, straightening himself. "I think I'm gonna take you up on that drink you were offering."
I chuckled and downed my drink, slamming the glass on the counter before straightening. "What are you having?"
"I don't assume you know how to make an Old Fashioned?"
I smirked. "On the contrary, I make a kick ass Old Fashioned."
I placed a glass on the counter, dropping a sugar cube inside before picking up a bottle of angostura bitters and adding a dash of water, letting it mix. I opened the cooler, taking out a cluster of ice cubes and putting them in the glass before grabbing a bottle of bourbon and filling it halfway.
I slid the glass over to him, smiling. "On the house."
He took the glass and almost hesitantly, took a sip. I grabbed a bottle of champagne, filling a bucket with ice and passing it to him.
"Go to the upper deck."
"Where are you going?"
"I gotta take a piss," I said, heading to the bathroom.
I locked the door behind me and sat on the toilet, unlacing my left boot. I slipped it off and dug inside, finding the packet of snow I'd hidden. I took out a bill along with my credit card, forming three lines on the porcelain sink.
Rolling the bill, I positioned myself in front of the sink and quickly sniffed the three lines. I grimaced as the last hit stung my nostril. I splashed water on my face before heading up to the upper deck.
"If someone told me I'd be spending my afternoon drinking champagne on a yacht today, I would have laughed at their face," Rick mumbled almost to himself as I sat next to him on the cushioned couches that circled around the deck.
I chuckled, unlacing my boots and toeing them off. "It must be exhausting planning every single detail of your life every fucking day. Not to mention boring."
"Well, some of us have responsibilities and can't do whatever we want at the drop of a hat."
I snorted. "I got responsibilities spilling out of my ass, but I still manage to squeeze in a bit of lawless pursuits in between. It's all about knowing your priorities."
"If knowing my priorities leads to a drug habit I can't kick, I'll have to pass."
"You really think I'm just some coked up brat who lives off on her trust fund, huh?"
He shrugged. "You're not really proving otherwise."
"Touché."
I sighed, tilting my head back and looking up at the sky. I lifted my right hand over my face to shield against the glaring of the sun. Rick took my hand, inspecting the bandaging I'd wrapped the injuries from earlier in. His touch was so gentle, almost hesitant. I hated it, the vague care he was offering.
"I can't feel these fingers, you know," I said, extracting my hand from his and holding up two fingers. "I was eleven, and Jude and I snuck out of this fundraiser we were made to attend and ran around the city all night. We were in Central Park when an asshole tried to rob us at knife point. He grabbed me and threatened to cut my throat if Jude didn't give him his wallet. When he pressed the knife against my neck, I felt this surge of adrenaline just burst out of my body and I grabbed the knife and bit his hand as hard as I could. The knife cut me right here." I pointed at the space between my middle and index finger. "The surgeon said it severed some nerves and any deeper, I wouldn't have been able to play any instrument for the rest of my life."
Rick took my hand again, inspecting the faint scar along my fingers. "I saw you perform once," he mumbled. "It was during your concert at Carnegie Hall. Jude invited me to go with him and during that time, you were all over the news and I was curious what the whole deal was so I decided to see for myself. When you started playing, all I can remember is just staring at the stage, absolutely in awe of you." He smiled, tracing the scar the stitches had left. "I've wanted to know you since that night."
I reached for his face, brushing my thumb against the bruise on his jaw. "Am I what you expected me to be?"
He frowned, shaking his head. "You're nothing like the idea I had of you."
I let out a snort. "I apologize for disappointing you then."
"You didn't," he said. "I made you out to be larger than life but really, you're more human than most people I've ever met."
I stared at him, a solemnity warming me within. "That's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me."
He tilted his head to regard me, his brows furrowed. "You say the most confusing things. I never know what to make of you."
I smiled. "Why make something out of nothing?"
I laid down, resting my head on his lap and closing my eyes as the sun hit my skin. I felt exhaustion make itself known and I didn't fight it, letting it pull me out of consciousness.