Mess Us Up – Jaxson Kidman Page 0,61
for this?” I ask. “That’s the best you’ve got, Mac? You’re going to convince yourself I ruined everything…”
“No,” he says. “I’m hoping you convince yourself that you hate me. So you can get back to your normal. It’s better that way.”
“Fuck you,” I snap at him. My teeth chatter. “Fuck. You.”
Mac drops his cigarette and grabs at his jeans. “Let’s go then. Turn around and bend over the hood of your car, sweetie. I’m ready.”
I take a swing at him.
But I miss.
I miss by a mile.
I spin around and let out a groaning cry. Probably the most pathetic sound I’ve ever made in my life.
“Want to try that again?” Mac asks.
He’s such a dick.
I stumble to my car and get inside.
Mac doesn’t move an inch. He’s too tough, mean, and stubborn to move.
He has to put on a show, right?
More than anything else, he has to protect himself.
From me.
I’m the one who’s ruined it all.
He was the one messing me up… no.
It was me messing him up.
I start my car and drive away.
It sinks into me how I went from innocent to wild to fake kidnapped to free to now…
Alone.
I make it two days in the same clothes before I shower.
At least there I can cry and pretend that I’m not crying.
Which sounds really pathetic.
And it is.
My care level?
Zero.
I step out of the shower, dry off, and find something new to wear.
It’s basically the same kind of clothes though.
Extra baggie.
Really comfortable.
Again… no fucking care in the world.
I look at my bedroom floor and shake my head.
There’s books everywhere.
All the books that used to mean something to me. The books that were going to provide me with a real future. Or at least that’s what I thought.
I was going to finish law school, get a job, and live a good life.
The reality though… I should have known better.
I can hear my father’s voice in my head. He’d be the one right there to cheer me on with graduation. Then he’d start asking small questions. Making it sound like fun. Then would come the serious stuff.
Everyone lied and cheated on me and around me.
I reach down and grab a stack of the books.
I take them into the kitchen and put them on the counter.
Then I find the biggest pot I can and put the books in there.
Someone starts to knock at my door.
My heart slams inside my chest, fearing the worst.
Is it Declan? Is he here to hurt me now? Or is it Mama Dae? Did she send someone to hurt me? Or is it Mac…
The knocking keeps going.
I stand in place, consumed by fear.
“Jolie, it’s me.”
Only Violet’s voice could penetrate the door and come into the kitchen and sound like she’s standing right next to me.
I race to the door and open it.
She’s carrying a bag in each hand.
“Did you kick my door?” I ask.
“I needed to knock,” she says. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks for that. I just got out of the shower.”
“I brought treats,” she says. “Let’s get that broken heart of yours fixed up.”
“No, Violet…”
“Shut up, Jolie,” she says.
She walks into the kitchen and puts the bags down. “What the hell is this?”
“Law books,” I say. “I was going to burn them.”
“Burn books?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Why?”
“That’s… whatever. I brought alcohol and ice cream.”
“I have both here,” I say.
Jolie opens the refrigerator. “Oh, this crap? That’s just fruity stuff. No way. You need real alcohol.” She slams the fridge and opens the freezer. “And mint ice cream? Are you kidding me?”
“What? It’s good.”
“No,” she says. “You need chunks.”
She shuts the freezer and empties out the bags.
Three bottles of vodka. And three containers of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. She opens the silverware drawer and takes out two spoons.
“Let’s do it,” she says.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to.”
“You have to,” she says. “You called me crying twice over Mac. You begged me to stay away.”
“Yet you’re here.”
“You haven’t told me what happened.”
“Yes, I did. Our lives are too different.”
“That’s crap,” she says. “Let’s go.”
She grabs a bottle of vodka and a pint of ice cream and walks away.
I shut my eyes and sigh.
I grab a bottle of vodka and pint of ice cream for myself.
Violet snorts and then coughs, sending ice cream flying across the living room.
“It burns!” she cries out.
“Have a drink, it’ll help,” I say.
She waves her hands at her face. “My brain is freezing up.”
“Take a small bite next time.”
“But it’s soooo fucking good,” she says.
She licks the air and laughs again.
She’s had more vodka