Page 34 of The Bad Brother
Almost called my mother and asked if I could stay with her and Mark for a few weeks, just until I get my next paycheck. I know Mark, while he wouldn’t have wanted to, he would’ve said yes, if only because appearances are almost as important to him as they are my mother.
He almost did it.
Jensen almost got rid of me.
Almost.
Digging an Atomic Warhead out of my pocket, I unwrapped it, stuck it in my mouth and immediately bit it in half, allowing the powdered citric acid in its center to do its job. At the rate I’m going, the enamel will be completely eaten off my teeth by Christmas.
Calm, and firmly back inI’m more stubborn than you areterritory, I didn’t call my mother. I called an Uber and then I called AAA while contemplating yet another confrontation. Again, I decide against it. He’ll just deny it and there’s no way for me to prove otherwise so what’s the point?
Are you sure that’s why, Sloane? Are you sure you’re not confronting him because it’s an exercise in futility or are you not confronting him because every time you close your eyes, you see him shirtless and sweaty and looking so infuriatingly sexy that he’s all you can think about? Come to think of it, maybe that’s why you’re not backing down and moving out like he obviously wants you to. Because, deep down, you like it. Because to your sex starved brain, what’s going on between the two of you feels a hell of a lot like foreplay.
When the Uber dropped me off at the Barrett fourteen hours later, my car tires were fully inflated and the bar’s parking lot was half full but when I walked in, there were barely more than a few dozen people scattered around it. Looking around, I see Austin, the guy who’s usually checking IDs at the door when I come home, is posted up outside the basement and a pretty brunette is behind the bar, filling a pitcher from one of the taps. When she sees me, she gives me a flat,hey theresmile. Just as I’m about to smile back, the floor under my feet begins to shake and a cheer roars its way through the gaps in the floorboards.
Rather than ask what the hell is going on—because if the rumors are true, I already know—I hurry past the bar, go upstairs and go to bed.
Friday I woke up to hot water, electricityanda drivable car. Extra suspicious, I got ready for work as quickly as I could. Downstairs, the front door was propped open withits usual rock but the bar was deserted. The only people there were yet another pair of older women, cleaning and polishing, just like their predecessors.
Apparently, Jensen Barrett has an army of old ladies willing to do his dirty work. Maybe one ofthemlet the air out of my tires. Laughing to myself, I started my car and went to work.
The weekend passed in its usual blur. When I’m not in a surgery suite, putting people back together, I’m working the floor in the hospital’s emergency department, setting broken bones and stitching up wounds. Saturday night was unusually busy—a five car pileup on the I-30 had three of its accident victims life flighted to our trauma center—so by the time I was able to leave the hospital it was nearly 4AM and the bar was empty. Relieved I wouldn’t have to make small talk, even though I like River and enjoy our conversations, I dragged myself up the stairs and barely made it through the door before I fell, face first, on the couch and slept until Sunday afternoon.
Sunday evening was spent taking advantage of the fact that Jensen decided to let me have electricity. I watched Netflix and ate girl dinner—peanut butter crackers, grapes, and two yogurts, all pilfered from the hospital cafeteria while most of Monday was spent doing laundry and mentally preparing for another work week while wondering what fresh hell my hot, asshole landlord will deliver me tomorrow because I’m sure this reprieve is just the calm before the storm. That he’s just trying to lull me into a false sense of security. I don’t know shit about Jensen Barrett, but I know giving up isn’t in his playbook.
In the middle of folding a load of clothes, I’m startledhalf to death when I hear someone knock on my front door. Because the bar is closed on Mondays and no one is supposed to be here, I dig my stun gun out of my bag and approach the door to press my eye against the peephole. It’s River and the pretty brunette from Thursday night standing in the hallway with a pizza box in her hands.
“Hi,” River says as soon as I open the door. “I know you have work tomorrow but?—”
“But I’m nosy and curious about you so I talked River into helping me ply you with pizza and wine so I can pump you for information,” the brunette says, holding up a bottle of decent red wine. “I’m Sera.”
More amused by her candor that I probably should be, I laugh. “I’m Sloane,” I say, stepping out of the doorway to invite them in, my stomach immediately starts to growl when the smell of cheese and spicy pepperoni hits me, reminding me that I haven’t had anything to eat today except a cup o’noodles and a Pop tart. “Come in.”
As soon as they’re in, I shut the door. Making my way to the kitchen, I set the stun gun in my hand on the island to retrieve plates and glasses. “I?—”
The hard, snapping buzz of electricity crackles behind me and I turn to find River’s friend, Sera, examining my stun gun. “Nice.” She looks up at me with a grin. “Ever use it?”
“Once.” Pulling down a stack of plates, I set them on the island next to her. “In college. Some guy was following me back to my dorm from the library my first year of med school.” Turning back to the cabinet, I push myself onto my tiptoes to reach a trio of wine glasses from the top shelf. “He wanted to take me out for coffee and no matterhow many times I saidno thank you, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He finally got frustrated enough to drop the nice guy act, called me astuck-up bitch, and grabbed my arm, so —”
“Zap.” When I nod, Sera grins at me. “Good.”
“See?” River says, flipping open the pizza box before reaching for a plate. “I told you so.”
“Told you sowhat?” I ask, bouncing a look between the two of them.
Instead of answering me, Sera skirts her way around me, into the kitchen, while River pulls a massive slice of pepperoni and cheese from the steaming pie in front of her. Hearing a drawer open, I turn to watch her pull a corkscrew from its belly, the move making it obvious that she’s familiar with her surroundings. More than that—she’s comfortable here. Comfortable and familiar enough to know where Jensen keeps his corkscrew. Knowing that tightens my chest and sours my gut for some reason.
Not forsome reason,Sloane.
For a very specific reason.
You’re jealous.
Before I can repeat my question or maybe ask them to leave, Sera asks one of her own. “So, you’re really a doctor, huh?” Handing me the corkscrew, she grabs a plate on her way to the other side of the island. Sitting on the stool next to River, she helps herself to a slice of pizza.
“She’s not a doctor,” Rivers says around a mouth full of pepperoni and cheese. “I already told you—she’s asurgeon.”
“Sorry.” Giving me a brief smile, Sera sets her own slice on her plate. “So, you’re really asurgeon?” Somehow, shemanages to make the word surgeon sound likeunicornordragon.Completely outlandish and imaginary.
