Текст книги "Switch"

Автор книги: Jennifer Ryder

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

ROCCO

Thursday

I’ve been staring at the ceiling since fuck knows what hour. Now the sun is well and truly up. My mind has been racing, processing what happened, and what I have to deal with in the wake of it. I did this.

Twenty-five and dead.

I’ve been holding his inheritance in trust for when he turned twenty-five. It was his as soon as he got out. Now I’ll be spending some of that money on his fucking funeral.

The MC won’t have any say in this. I will fight until my last breath to do it my way. The De Luca way. I’ll organise a private ceremony at a time and place of my choosing. Does the club even know he’s dead? Do they fucking care? Surely it’ll get back to them. Inmates talk. With any luck, I hope the cops pick something up in their phone conversations.

The mattress shifts, and with a soft sigh, a warm hand stretches across my bare chest.

“Hey,” she breathes, patting her hand over my heart.

I grip her hand and hold it there, this simple action calming the raging sea of emotions swirling inside me.

“Hey,” I say back, and let out a long sigh.

Even after what happened between us, she stayed. Thank fuck.

She turns onto her side to face me, tucking her tangled locks behind her ear. “Did you sleep?” Her eyes probe mine, but they’re not asking the same question that just came from her mouth. They’re asking a hell of a lot more … and I don’t know the answer.

“Some,” I mutter.

“Do you want some breakfast? Toast or something?”

“Nah, not real hungry.”

“I’ll be back in a sec.” She dashes from the room, her top creased and her shorts riding up her crack. She curses from the next room, no doubt about the seat. A minute later the toilet flushes and the sink tap whines.

She tiptoes to the bed and slides back under the covers, tucking the sheet under her chin, which is jumping up and down as she shivers. “Sorry I was busting.”

Those emerald eyes stare me down once more as we share a moment of silence.

“It’s my last shift at the café today, but I can stay,” she offers.

Stay.

“No. I need to be alone.”

“Are you sure?”

No.

“I’ve got calls to make, and I’ll probably have to go see my solicitor.” As much as I appreciate her offer, she doesn’t need to tag along for that. If anything, it’d make that shit harder. My emotions seem to run freer with her around. I don’t need to be making a tool of myself. I need to sort this shit, and it’s better if I do it alone.

“I can take the day off. I never take leave. I’m sure Tony would be—”

“Suds, it’s your last day. Go end on a high. I’m sure they’ve got something special planned for you, anyway.”

Suds hurries to the door, then turns and stares longingly as she grips the door handle. She gives me a soft smile and leaves the room. I stare at the imperfections in the ceiling as the water pipes groan.

Ask her to stay.

I send Mac a text, telling him I’m not well and I can’t make it in today. I need to buy some time before I reveal the real reason why.

Ten minutes later, Suds is sitting on the edge of my bed dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt, jeans and her Doc Martens. There’s no escaping her puffy eyes. It looks as if she had trouble sleeping, too.

She leans over and kisses my forehead, her soft, sticky lips leaving remnants on my skin.

I fight with myself not to give in, not to drag her back into bed and hold her so I can focus on her and shut everything else out.

“You need anything, you call. ’Kay?”

“’Kay.”

I watch her walk out that door and wonder where in the hell I’m gonna start.

****

Suds comes in the door a little after five. I take my head out of my hands and stare at the mountain of paperwork spread across the dining table. I have a splitting headache, and I’m running on exhaust fumes. There’s nothin’ in the tank. My head is clouded with thoughts of timber coffins and words of comfort from Father Michael. He was there when each of my parents passed. When I saw him today, he was shocked by the news about V.

“Hey,” she says and slowly approaches the table with two white plastic bags. The strong smell of spices has my stomach growling. “I brought Thai. I didn’t want you to have to think about cooking or anything,” she says, stammering over her words.

This girl.

“Thanks,” I mutter, as I shuffle the papers into a pile and shove them to the end of the table.

Suds places the bags down and returns with plates and cutlery. She sits opposite me and hands me a white dinner plate.

“Did you eat anything today?” she asks, narrowing her eyes as she scours my face. “You look pale.”

“A bit of jelly, but that’s it.”

I’d contemplated tequila for breakfast, but all I could find was an empty bottle in the recycling bin. Suds to the rescue.

“Not enough,” she says, pointing a finger at me before handing me a knife and fork. Suds scoops some Pad Thai onto my plate, and then her own. “Eat,” she bosses.

I scoop in a mouthful, letting the flavours roll around my mouth to distract me from heavy thoughts.

“How was the last day?” I ask her. I don’t want to talk about me, or the fucked-up shit I’ve had to deal with today.

A weird look overcomes her face. “Good.”

“Just good? No farewell party?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, we’re gonna do something in a week or so.”

Did she cancel plans because of me?

“And you’re cool with that?”

“Yes. Now eat.”

We eat in silence, yet our eyes are glued to one another. I blink back tears as last night plays over in my head. She reaches her hand across the table, and I take a good hold of it as I finish my mouthful. These hands held me together last night.

I don’t have the balls to bring up what happened in my bed. While I’d wanted to do that to her for the longest time, I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. How was it fair on her? I went to town on her. If she had told me to stop, I would have in a second flat. I’d thought somehow I could escape my thoughts by focusing on something I truly wanted.

There was no redemption in what I did. What I did was risk ruining something good … the only good thing in my life.

Her being here, holding my hand like this, means I haven’t completely fucked up. Thank fuck for that.

“Do you wanna talk about all the papers?” she asks, hesitation in her tone.

“Not tonight. I’ve had enough for today.”

Her hold on my hand tightens. “I can help if you need anything. ’Kay?”

I clear my throat. “There is something.”

The sincerity in her eyes is overwhelming, causing a sudden tightness in my chest. “Whatever you need,” she says.

“Can you call Mac and Jones and April and see if they wanna come over at some point? I’m gonna need to tell them what happened.”

“You want me to ring them now?” She lets go of my hand and reaches for her bag, which is hooked over the chair beside her.

“No,” I bark out. “Um, it’s late.” I’m not ready to tell other people yet.

“Tomorrow night?”

It’s gonna have to be. I rub at the back of my neck, digging my fingers into my flesh.

“Yeah. Tomorrow’d be good. I’m gonna have to take time off and sort all this shit out, and I don’t know—”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll ring them and invite them over for dinner. They can bring pizza or something. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Suds.”

“No worries. Anything else?”

I feel like the biggest pussy for asking this, but I don’t think I can lie in bed alone tonight. If I’m alone I know exactly where my thoughts are gonna lead me, and I’m too fucking fragile right now to be putting up any kind of fight.

“When we finish dinner, do you reckon you could lie with me ’til I fall asleep?” I’d ask her to stay in my bed for the night, but I don’t want to presume anything or push my luck.

She nods, and a soft smile curls at her pink lips. “Course. Whatever you need.”

****

SOPHIE

At six am, I peel myself from Rocco’s warm arms and take a shower. I’m numb to the raised toilet seat. If anything, it reminds me of the banter we get into. I couldn’t even have a go at him about it yesterday. Will this tragedy in his life change everything? Will Rocco recover from this?

As I blow-dry my hair, I contemplate how I’m going to handle today.

It’s my first day at my new job. I should be here.

I don’t want to leave him, but I don’t want to smother him. He managed okay without me yesterday, and I think being together last night helped.

I can’t call in sick in on my first day. That’d be career suicide, but what do I do? Does he even want me around?

I get myself dressed and decide that I’ll leave it up to him. He was ballsy enough to ask me to lie with him last night, so if he needs me today it’s his call.

My heels click on the timber floor as I walk with soft steps into his room.

He’s still face-down in the pillow. The muscles in his shoulders roll and flex as he moves onto his side to face me.

I straighten my dark grey pencil skirt, and fiddle with the buttons on my black silk top. Thank God I had a bit of extra cash from Vegas to buy a few key pieces for my new work wardrobe. I hope I look okay.

“I, ah, start my new job today,” I announce, with a shrug. He might think it’s weird starting on a Friday, but I wanted to start as soon as I could.

A slow grin tilts at the corner of his mouth. A mouth, might I add, that got real intimate with my lady parts less than forty-eight hours ago.

Nothing happened between us last night. Was it because we were both too exhausted? Too emotional? Rocco didn’t say anything about it, and neither did I. I don’t regret that it happened. I do think the timing was wrong. I just … don’t know what to make of it. The important thing is I’m here for him, whatever he needs.

“You look good enough to eat.” He diverts his penetrating gaze away and then rubs his eyes. He shakes his head, muttering something I don’t catch. “Sorry. Just pretend I kept my mouth shut.”

A tingle twinges in my lower belly. Oh my God, can this man eat pussy. If they had Olympics for pussy-eaters, then he’d be wearing gold for sure. I swallow down, and fiddle with my hair. The bun I put in now seems too tight.

“S’Okay. At least I know I look appetising.” Trying to make light of it seems like the only option.

Rocco closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. He huffs the air out through his nose and looks up at me. “First day, huh?”

“Yup.”

“I’m real happy for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, now shy. “Will you be okay?”

“I don’t plan on moving yet,” he grumbles.

“Do you want me to stay?” Because I will.

Those chocolate orbs regard me closely and then he blinks several times. “Nah, there’s shit I need to take care of.”

“I’ll be back home as soon as I can, but if you need me or anything just call, okay?”

“Go get ’em, Suds,” he says, and then rolls over and buries his head under his pillow.

I don’t blame him for wanting to shut out the world. The world just kicked him in the balls, and basically shoved life up his arse.

 

CHAPTER FORTY

ROCCO

“Cactus!” I call out as I stumble into the shop. The loud jingle of the electronic doorbell shrieks in my ears. “Whoa, that’s loud.” I cover my ears as the piercing sound rings out inside my skull. After scouring the shop, I finally set sights on the man I want. “I need new ink, my man. My brother’s name over my broken fuckin’ heart.”

He takes his sweet time rising from his swivel chair and shakes his head when he stands toe-to-toe with me. I grip his arm for balance.

“Mate, you know you can’t be under the influence.”

“My fucking brother just died … scratch that. He was fuckin’ murdered, so excuse fuckin’ me, but I’d like a tattoo.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he says, and strokes at his long grey beard. “V’s gone?”

“Yup. Gone.”

“Come on, then.” He leads me over to the familiar worn, red leather chair. I turn and slump into it. A bottle of cold water magically appears in my hand.

“Start drinking this and then I’ll consider it.” Cactus moves to the back corner of the shop, and talks to another one of the guys with his back to me.

I try to focus on the fat bloke next to me getting ink on his shoulder. My focus is shot to shit. I push my head back against the leather chair, but the spinning is too violent. I lean over and grab the bin beside me and hurl my guts up.

A large hand grips at my shoulder and takes the bin from my hand.

Fuck you, Vinnie. You’ve left me with nothing. All I have left is … “Soph,” I choke out.

I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket and thrust it in Cactus’s face.

****

SOPHIE

I rush in the front door at five-thirty and am met with silence.

“Rocco?” I call out, as I move from room to room. Anxiety grows inside me with each passing moment. It was a mammoth effort today to focus on my new position and not think of him. My mind was only half on the job today. Hopefully Julie didn’t notice.

Be positive.

He’s probably organising stuff. I’ll just call him and find out where he is.

I dial his number, but there’s no answer. I try again and again, and nothing.

Shit.

I shake off the dark thoughts that swirl in the back of my mind. He’s fine. Maybe he went out for some fresh air or something. I can’t panic every time he’s out of sight. He’s a grown boy. Who just had his world crushed.

Everyone will be here at seven. I was close to tears on the train to work thinking about calling Mac and Jones and April. Instead, I rang April and asked her to set it up. She asked me what was wrong. Did I think I could hide the quiver in my voice. In my bravest voice, I avoided her question and said I had to run. It’s not my place to say anything. This is something Rocco has to do.

I check the clock on the wall. I’m sure in the next ninety minutes he’ll be home and everything will be fine. He’d responded to my early text about them coming over, so he knows this evening’s plans.

As I empty the dishwasher and tidy up the kitchen, I focus on taking deep breaths, in through my nose and slowly out through my mouth. When Rocco walks through that door, I need to be calm, together.

I stack the papers on the dining table and put them in the top drawer of the dark timber sideboard lined up against the wall of the room. I pick up the crumpled tissues, which are sitting beside a …

Oh no.

I can’t hold back the tears that glide down my cheeks. It’s a worn version of the photo of Rocco and his brother, which is on the fridge. A heavy gold cross on a chain is sitting beside it. It looks the same as the one Vinnie is wearing in the picture.

Life can be so cruel.

A loud ring followed by a buzzing on the kitchen bench draws me out of my daze. I wipe at my cheeks and sigh with relief when the familiar name comes up on the display.

“Rocco.” I gasp into the phone. “Where are you?”

“Is this Sophie?” a deep, gruff male voice asks.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Cactus. Rocco is here in my parlour, and he’s a bit under the weather. Can you come down and pick him up? I’ll text you the address.”

Shit. He’s turned back to the bottle. It’s heartbreaking because he was doing so well, but I guess, under the weight of what happened to his brother, I can’t blame him. It’s hard to be strong when your world has turned to shit.

“I’ll leave right away.”

****

Fifteen minutes later, I run through the glass doors of the tattoo joint.

“I’m looking for Cactus,” I say, breathless.

Heavy work boots thud against the polished cement floor as a tall man with a bald head and a long grey beard walks up to the counter. He’s dressed in a black T-shirt and blue jeans. Black and red ink, in the form of a dragon, curls up the side of his neck. There’s almost no skin on either of his arms untouched.

“Yeah, that’d be me. Sorry there, love. He mumbled your name and gave me his phone.”

“Where is he?”

“Passed out in the corner over there.” He points his inked finger towards a man that resembles more a heap of clothes tossed haphazardly in a chair.

I rush over to him. “Rocco,” I mumble, as I pat the side of his face. His eyes flutter open, revealing how bloodshot they are.

“Suds,” he breathes, and I choke on the stench of alcohol seeping out of him. I don’t know what he’s been drinking, but it’s a putrid concoction. My guess is he didn’t care what he was knocking back. How quickly he could feel numb was more important.

Cactus makes him finish off a bottle of water and gives him another one for the road. He kindly helps me get Rocco into the front passenger seat of my car. I need to keep an eye on him. If he was to lie down on the back seat, my guess is he’d vomit everywhere. Neither of us need spew in our lives right now.

When we get home, I help him up the stairs. Thankfully he’s moving better on his feet, and I’m not worried that he’ll collapse on me. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in my car, but then again, I haven’t pushed him for conversation either. He just stared through the windshield in a daze. I’m not about to reprimand him for drinking, because that won’t do a bloody thing. He’ll regret what he did eventually, but he doesn’t need me to bring it to his attention. I need to be here for him.

I take him straight to the bathroom and turn on the shower. He puts the toilet seat down and sits. I unlace his boots and reef his T-shirt over his head. I help strip him down to his boxers and then guide him under the water. He winces and flattens his palms against the tiles, allowing the water to stream down his back.

He pushes his underwear down and they land with a slap to the floor. “Having your eyes on me, I should be hard as fuckin’ stone,” he grumbles.

“Stop thinking about your dick for one second, will you?” I tease, but my tone is soft, sad.

He sweeps his fingers though is hair and soaps his upper body. The bubbles coat his ink before being washed down the ripples of his washboard stomach. I refuse to let my eyes roam any lower. Instead, I turn and grab my towel from the rack, because his is still lying on the floor from this morning. I hold the fluffy white rectangle of fabric out towards him. He shuts off the water and takes the towel, rubbing it down his face and then over his chest.

“You know yesterday I was going through the motions. I was organising shit, but today it fuckin’ hit me. I was drowning … and the grog was all I could see to keep me afloat.”

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. You know I’m here, right? If you wanna talk or whatever?”

Rocco steps onto the floor mat and wraps the towel low around his slim hips. He curls his hand around my neck and draws me close, wrapping his warm arms around me. With a gentle squeeze, he sighs in my ear. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

****

I make Rocco some buttered toast, and bring it to him on the lounge. He’s pale and shivering beneath my blanket.

“You need to eat something,” I say, offering him the plate.

“Thanks.” It takes him about two minutes to swallow a bite. At least he’s eating.

Three knocks rap at the door.

“Shit,” I mutter. “I forgot April and the guys were coming. Do you want me to tell them to go?”

“Nah, I need to do this,” he says, and nods.

I open the door and am hit with the smell of pizza and a flash of supportive smiles.

“Hey, guys. Come in,” I say, adorning my bravest face as I show them to the dining table.

Rocco gets up from the lounge and shakes Mac’s hand, giving him a gruff ‘g’day’.

“Feelin’ any better, son?” Mac asks.

Rocco doesn’t answer him, instead pulling Jones into a hug. He holds him for the longest time. April and Mac stare at the men embracing and then shoot questioning looks at me.

“You okay, bud?” Jones asks, and holds him at arm’s length.

A blank stare overtakes Rocco’s face. I take his hand and tug him towards the table.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” I suggest.

I sit beside Rocco and help April open the pizza boxes. I don’t give a shit about plates or serviettes. It’s not the time to be prim and proper about this shit. Everyone continues to look at Rocco, but he just stares at the array of cheesy carbohydrates in front of him.

I wave my hands at the food. “Eat while it’s hot, guys,” I say, trying to break the tension, which is thick amongst us.

Quietly, our visitors take a slice and eat. I reach for Rocco’s hand under the table and link his cool fingers with mine.

“I need to take some time, Mac,” Rocco says, almost crushing my fingers as he speaks.

“What for, son?” Mac asks, and then mauls his pizza crust.

“My little brother is dead.”

April gasps and clutches at her chest. Mac’s jaw drops open. Jones reaches beside him and grips Rocco’s shoulder. “Fuck,” Jones curses. “I’m sorry.”

I watch on in admiration as Rocco tells our friends everything. He’s matter-of-fact, robotic even, as he tells them about his brother being in jail, how Vinnie got there in the first place, and the suspicious circumstances surrounding his death. He talks about losing his parents, his battle with alcohol, and how he’s trying to overcome his addiction. When he tells them he wants to be a better person it hits me like a thunderbolt right in the heart. There’s more to this man than simply tattoos and a foul mouth. There’s a big-arse heart inside, and I’m getting to see more of it every day. I just wish it wasn’t something as life altering as this that had exposed it.

Rocco lays his troubles out on the table and doesn’t hold back. I guess he’s a man with nothing left to lose.

I don’t let go of his hand for anything.