Текст книги "Switch"

Автор книги: Jennifer Ryder

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

SOPHIE

I wake up at eleven. I’m so glad I finally got some sleep, because this cold has knocked me off my feet. I think I’ve turned the corner, though, which is good, because I can’t afford to take a sick day from work.

I have a hot shower, and give my hair some attention, blow-drying it and straightening it. I’m meeting up with April for lunch today to talk hen’s party arrangements, which I’m pretty excited about. We never get to go out anymore, which is mostly my fault, so it’ll be good to have something planned, and something I can have a bit of time to save for.

Walking into the lounge room, I gasp. Rocco is sitting on the couch, his pants down around his ankles. He’s passed out, and his giant-sized cock is standing hard and proud. “Jesus,” I mutter. It’s like a fucking snake crawled over his lap. An angry snake, at that.

I’ll admit it. A certain, very needy lady part of me is turned on, but I’m more pissed than anything else. I thought maybe Rocco was turning a corner but then yesterday it was as if the tequila devil possessed him again. He couldn’t wait to write himself off.

I take my blanket from the other lounge and toss it at his crotch. Has he no self-respect?

“Wake up,” I yell at him.

Rocco mumbles and wipes the drool from the side of his mouth, grips the blanket and slowly peels opens his eyes.

“What’s … what’s the time?” he says, and groans.

“Will you look at yourself?”

“What?”

“You’re a mess. What the fuck are you doing with your life, De Luca?”

He widens his tired, bloodshot eyes, and drills me with those cold dark orbs. “I’m just following in my father’s footsteps, darlin’.”

“That’s a piss poor excuse, if ever I’ve heard one. You’re wasting an opportunity that others would kill for.”

“What the fuck kind of opportunity?”

“The job with Mac.”

“Mac’s fine. He knows I’m not perfect.”

“Mac’s a good man. He’s given you a chance; don’t fuckin’ waste it.”

“What the hell do you know about my life?”

“I know you have no respect for yourself or for the girls you fuck. I heard her slap you and storm out of here last night. The only place you’re going is to an early grave with a fucked-up liver and a serious case of STIs, and that’s a real shame, because I know you’ve got a heart in there somewhere. You should try wearing it on your sleeve sometime.”

“And what are you doing with your life?” he accuses me. “You’ve got dreams, whatever the fuck they are. Surely they don’t involve living with a drunk like me and scrounging for every cent.”

“I want kids,” I blurt out, and then instantly regret it. “I’m going places,” I say to cover up.

“Places? How? You’re studying to help people get a job, yet you don’t even try to get a decent one? How do you think you’re gonna help people?”

“My life is none of your business. You don’t know half the shit I’ve had to deal with.”

“You’re right. I don’t, but I can’t understand why you’re not trying.”

Not trying? He might as well have just stabbed me in the heart.

A flush of heat rushes to my face. “I am. How dare you say that I’m not?” I shout.

“You’re playing the martyr. You’re letting your past hold you back.”

I take a step closer and point an accusing finger at his face. “People in glass houses, fuckwit. Don’t try and pretend you know what it’s like to be me, to have been through the shit I’ve been through.”

He leans in, and huffs. “I should say the same fuckin’ thing.”

I take in a deep, shuddering breath, aware that my chest is rising and falling rapidly. He’s just slapped me in the face with the harsh reality that is my life. I’ve got a right mind to slap him back with one mother of a backhand. Arrogant fucker.

The house phone rings. Rocco scrambles with his jeans and nearly trips over on his way to the handset on the end of the kitchen counter. He couldn’t get off the lounge quick enough to answer it. Someone important? Probably the next fuck in line.

“Yeah,” he answers the phone with. Not hello, but yeah. Typical Rocco.

“Fuck … yeah I’m here,” he says after a pause. “Why? What’s happened?” Rocco storms to his room. He shuts the door, but I can make out the anger in his tone as the call continues.

It’s his place, and he’s entitled to his privacy, so why am I pissed that he had to leave the room? Am I just a busy body wanting to know what’s going on?

****

ROCCO

“Something’s up, Roc. I don’t know what, but I feel like there’s a big fuckin’ target on my back,” V says, his voice carrying his anxiousness. Shit. I’ve gotten him into trouble.

I stride down the hall to my room “Why? What’s happened?” This does not sound good. I close the door behind me. Soph doesn’t need to know about this. I don’t want her exposed to this side of my life.

“I’m scared to look anyone in the eye. Some cunt from the Rebel Raisers MC was moved into B Block and the whole fucking dynamic has changed. I won’t go into it, but some shit went down between our clubs a few months back, and anyone wearing my cut is in the firing line.”

Maybe the fact that they monitor these calls will help, give them more of a reason to move him out of harm’s way.

“Fuck me.” I let out a laboured sigh. “What can I do? Tell me, brother. You know I don’t wanna have anything to do with the MC, but if I have to go into that clubhouse swinging, I will. What is it gonna take to keep you safe?”

“There’s nothing you can do. I just have to ride it out. I’ll try and get a message back to Maddog and see if he can talk to the pres and make some kind of deal to get me protection.”

“I’ll see what I can do from my end,” I tell him before we say our goodbyes.

“Don’t. This shit is hard enough.”

Too late, brother.

V made no mention of moving into protection. How long does it take the fuckin’ paper pushers to take action with something like this? Every minute counts.

I can only hope that V taking the wrap for the drug offence is gonna get him some leeway with the club, and that somehow I can pay them off. When this is all over, they have to let him go.

With heavy steps, I rush to the bathroom and lift up the toilet seat, which is down for once. I empty what little contents are in my stomach. There’s a red tinge to the water, which is weird, considering I didn’t drink anything red. Fuck. The dry-heaving subsides after a while, and I’m left shaking in a cold sweat.

Using the sink as leverage, I pull myself up and rinse the acid from my mouth with cold water. I gulp down enough liquid to try and settle my stomach.

“You okay?” A quiet voice comes from the doorway.

Suds is standing there, arms folded across her chest, her shoulders slumped, almost in defeat. Her eyes are glassy and her cheeks flushed. I’ve just had a go at her, and somehow she still gives a shit. She cares enough to ask when she could’ve ignored me. I don’t understand women—not one iota.

“Brand new,” I mutter and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

My mobile in my pocket rings. “Christ, what now?” I mumble to myself as I dig it from my jeans. If it wasn’t Jones, I’d be ignoring the call. I’m in no fucking mood to talk.

“Yeah,” I say, answering the call. I grip the sink to steady me. I’m light-headed all of a sudden. My drab reflection in the mirror explains why. I’m pale as fuck.

“We need to get together to sort out the bucks. You doin’ anything today?”

The last thing I feel like doing today is being sociable, but I can’t let him down. “Not a fucking thing.”

“Meet you at the Royal? We can have a counter lunch and some beers.”

I guess I’d better put some food in my stomach.

“I’ll see you there.”

When I look back to the doorway, Suds is gone.

I brush my teeth and splash cool water on my face.

Time to ring that fucker at Long Bay and find out what the hell he’s done with the information I gave him.

****

“We’re doin’ Vegas for the bucks,” Jones says, as he hands me a beer. The bright smile on his face tells me that it’s gonna happen whether I want it to or not.

“Vegas,” I say, with a slow nod.

I’m not impressed about going overseas. I’ve never been in a wedding party, and I’d do anything for this bloke, but V is shitting bricks right now. I could hear the trembling in his voice over the phone today. He sounded like he did that day when he was seven years old and he got lost in the bush for five hours. He was just a scared kid then, and today felt no different. I’ve never felt so helpless. How the hell can I protect him behind bars when even the wardens can’t seem to do it?

“We’ll make it a flying visit. Three or four days. Stone has been looking into a deal for us so we can drive Ferraris in the desert, and I figure we can hit a strip joint or two and a couple of casinos. ”

A few days I can handle.

“Sounds like a dream. Whatever you want,” I say.

“They’ve got some decent-priced flights in a month, so we thought we’d get onto it.”

“Yup. Let’s book this shit.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

SOPHIE

Thank God Rocco left after that phone call, because I was about to burst into tears in front of him. I don’t cry in front of anyone.

So much he said is true.

How can I get to where I want to be if I haven’t even got a decent job? How am I going to support myself without one? How can I even contemplate having a child if I can’t even take care of myself? I can’t even afford one. I’m daydreaming when I should be pushing myself.

Rocco is right. I’m not trying hard enough. I’m in the same place as I was with Bonnie. No further ahead. What am I actually doing with my life? Am I using Prince Fuckface as an excuse not to push myself?

Thank God I’m meeting up with April today, because I need a friend. I’m glad I have at least one person I can rely on to tell it to me straight. It’s time I faced this future of mine head on, but I need to work out how to do it.

****

“Spence and I are thinking of doing a joint bucks-hens trip to Vegas,” April says, and a beaming grin spreads across her face.

Oh boy.

I’m far from excited. I hope the look on my face doesn’t convey that. Vegas equals big bucks. It means time off work. How the hell can I tell my best friend that I can’t go? Some maid of honour I am.

“Babe, I—”

“We’re paying for you on frequent flyer points, Soph. I won’t hear another thing about it.”

“Fuck, I can’t have you do that for me. It’s not right.”

“Spencer and I have a shitload of points. You’re my best friend, Soph, and I’m not doing this without you. We’re gonna do Vegas, baby!” She launches at me, giving me a huge hug.

“I don’t think there’ll be many girls, but you and Vicky are definite. At the end of the day, if you two are there with me I’ll be one happy hen.”

In other words, I’m going. There’s no negotiation here.

“I floated the idea with Eevie this morning,” April continues. “The poor girl had to run to the bathroom in the middle of the call to throw up. She’s about eight weeks pregnant and having terrible morning sickness, so she’s out.”

I can’t help but smile, but then comes the pang in my stomach. “That’s great news. About the baby … not the sickness.”

“Yeah, I know. Those two make beautiful babies.”

Babies. I swear my ovaries just sighed.

“So you’re good with Vegas?” She nods as if she’s trying to send me not-so-subliminal messages.

The problem is what kind of friend am I if I let her pay my way?

“Yes, of course I’m there, but I’ll pay you back,” I say.

“No, you won’t, so shut your face.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. I know she’s never going to let me back out of this. It makes me love this woman even more. “Tell me more about this grand plan of yours.”

A tiny squeal escapes her mouth and she claps. “We were thinking that the boys and girls can do their own thing for the first two days, then I think it’d be cool for everyone to get together and do something, like a pool party? That way everyone in the bridal party can spend some more time together before the big day. We just want the wedding to go off without a hitch, you know?”

“Anything you need, babe. I’ll make it work.”

“Have you got a passport?” she asks, taking another pick at the plate of hot chips between us. I scoff to myself. Yeah. I have my fucking passport. I had it all sorted in preparation for my honeymoon. But with a groom MIA, there was no wedding, and no tour of Europe for me. It was going to be the trip of a lifetime.

“Well, do you?” she prompts.

“Yeah, I have it.”

“Sweet. There’s some great specials on now, so we thought about booking this week to go in a month. I hope that’s okay?”

“Sure, it’d be great if we could include a weekend in the dates, seeing’s I haven’t been getting any shifts then.”

“I was thinking about doing that anyway.”

“Babe, I hate to ask, but if I need to borrow a bit of money, are you okay to spot me?”

“Of course.”

“We’re really doing Vegas, huh?” A grin slowly spreads across my face. April bites down on her bottom lip and then nods.

“Yup. We’re really doin’ it. Watch out, Vegas,” she says, with a wink.

I try to ignore the negative thoughts that bombard me. How much time will I have to take off work? How much further will I be behind? How much money do I really want to borrow from my friend?

“I’ve never been overseas before. I’m fucking thirty, and I’ve never left the shores of Australia. I can’t imagine doing it with anyone I love more, April. Us bitches are gonna teach Vegas how Aussie girls party.”

“Now there’s the Soph I know is in there.”

“Which one?” I ask.

“The take-life-by-the-balls kind of Soph.”

“I don’t do balls, babe. You know that.”

“Ha ha. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. I promise to make this trip the most memorable it can be.”

I dive into the chips and eat them slowly as I contemplate how I’m going to bring up the big issue on my mind.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she says with a shrug.

“Do you think I play the martyr?”

Her eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I kinda had a fight with Rocco, and he said I’m letting my past hold me back.”

“Since when does Sophie McKenna take shit from anyone? Don’t listen to him.”

I let out a long breath and run my fingers across my forehead. April doesn’t know the extent of my debt, or my history with Fuckface. It’s time I shared. If you can’t spill your deepest, shittiest secrets with a close friend, then what kind of friendship do you really have?

“You know when I told you I’d had dick before,” I say quietly.

“Yeah, and I clearly remember the fact that you were as tight as a cat’s arsehole about the details.”

“Yes,” I say, with a roll of my eyes. “There’s a reason I don’t talk about it.”

She reaches across the table, her mood turning more sombre.

“Whatever it is, Soph. Whatever he did to you, you know you can talk to me about it.”

“I know.” I trust this woman with all my heart.

“Four years ago, I was engaged.”

April chokes. I have no idea on what, because it’s not like she has a mouthful of food or drink.

“I wasn’t always this bitter and twisted. I met this guy, an older guy, when I was working at Gloria Jeans in the city. Like clockwork he came in every morning, always immaculately dressed in sharp suits, with fancy cufflinks and silk ties. For months he asked me out on a date.” I think back to those days, and how persistent he’d been. “At first I used to fob him off, because I had no idea why he would be interested in someone like me. I was just a girl working in a café by day and studying at night. He was persistent, and eventually I said yes. We had a connection and it didn’t take long before I’d moved in with him and we were engaged. It snowballed quickly, and we’d even talked about planning a family. He put me up on this pedestal—not that I really thought I deserved to be there. He made my life easier. He was supportive of me, and what I wanted to achieve. I could finally concentrate on my studies without the financial pressure. Once I had my qualifications, I could really go somewhere.”

“So what happened?” she asks, with a concerned look splashed across her face.

“All my money was in our joint account. He maxed out our credit cards, borrowed against our house right up to the max. He drained every last cent. When they re-possessed the house, the bank couldn’t recover what was owed. They couldn’t even get a buyer at market value. He disappeared overseas and the bank couldn’t find him. His family shut me out, and I was left with hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt, which I’ve been struggling to pay back ever since.”

She clutches at her chest. “Oh, Soph. This is why you’ve struggled all this time?”

“It’s my own fault. I was naïve. I believed he loved me. I believed in happy-fucking-ever-afters and having a beautiful family of my own. I just wanna have kids, babe. I don’t wanna get too old and miss my shot.”

“Which is why you broke up with Bonnie?” she asks.

“Yeah, for the most part, but I don’t think we would’ve worked out long-term anyway.”

April seizes both of my hands and grips them tight. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry you’ve had to carry this shit for so long on your own. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” I nod and sniff back my runny nose. “I feel better for sharing. I hate having secrets. I guess I’m kind of still in denial. I’m still astounded that someone could be so cruel to someone they supposedly love.”

“Fucker,” she says, as she shakes her head.

“I prefer to refer to him as Prince Fuckface.”

She bursts out laughing. “Ha, that’s gold! Very fitting.”

“I think so too.”

“And you know what else?”

“What?”

April leans in close, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Now we can have some serious sexy-time conversations, because I’m dying to know stuff.”

“He’s not the best sex I’ve ever had, if that’s what you wanna know.”

“No rush, we can workshop this out some other time … over red wine.”

I shake my head and chuckle. “Okay. Because that’s what best friends do, right?”

She nods. “Right.”

“The big thing is what do I do now? How do I get out of this shitty rut? How do I get ahead?”

“Okay, Miss Soon-To-Graduate, I want you to tell me something. Let’s say you were working in your dream job in recruitment. As a consultant, or whatever. What would you say to someone in your exact same situation?”

Why the fuck haven’t I thought of doing this before?

“I’d say they should get their CV together, do a bit of research on recruitment companies, and then arrange an interview to discuss career options.”

“Sounds like perfect advice to me,” she says, with a wink.

“You’re not just a pretty face,” I say, playfully barging her shoulder.

“Hey, you came up with the bright idea, not me.”

****

Friday

For the last three days I’ve stewed on what Rocco said, even though April tried to tell me to ignore the arse. His harsh words have infiltrated my dreams, and every minute I’ve worked in the café since, it’s as if I’m a dead woman walking. There’s no job satisfaction. No challenge. It truly is time for a change.

I’m doing something about it. Yesterday I took my own advice and did my homework. I contacted one of the top recruitment agencies in Sydney. If I’m doing this, I’m going to start trying at one of the best.

Today, Sophie McKenna is going to dominate at life.

I believe that I can.

I barely recognise my reflection as I walk through the grand steel and glass doors of Walker & Wilde recruitment agency. I’m wearing the smartest outfit I own—simple, yet classic. A white blouse and a black pencil skirt, with a matching fitted jacket and patent black heels. My attire screams office worker, hopefully executive, but on the inside I’m rocking tight jeans and my old AC/DC shirt. I straightened my hair this morning and have pulled it up into a smooth ponytail, wrapping a length of hair around the band.

A young girl with sleek, long black hair in a smart knee-length red dress promptly greets me and takes me through to a small waiting room, where I try and focus on not looking nervous. Thankfully no one can see the growing sweat patches under my arms. Yet.

A lady with short ash-blonde hair, adorned in a navy pantsuit, approaches me, all smiles. She extends her hand, and I shake it with a firm grip. If there’s one thing you have to have, it’s a good handshake.

“Good morning, I’m Sophie McKenna. Thank you for seeing me today.”

“Lovely to meet you, Sophie. I’m Julie Walker.”

Wait a minute, the Julie Walker? Principal, and well known for her awards in the recruitment industry?

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs Walker.”

I did my homework. I know from her profile that she’s happily married, otherwise I’d refer to her as Ms.

I’m surprised to be meeting with one of the owners of the firm, because I was sure I’d be meeting one of their recruitment consultants. I’ve got a prime opportunity here to really make an impression.

“Please, Julie is fine. Follow me.”

I walk behind her to a corner office, and take a seat across from her at her uber-organised desk.

“I’ve had a look at your CV and uni results. You’ve done very well in your studies,” she says.

“Thank you. I hope to finish my degree in the next six months.”

“Great. So tell me, what are you ideally looking for?”

“Ideally, a HR position somewhere. I don’t mind if it’s small business or government. I think regardless of the organisation, I’ll be able to make a difference.”

“Great. Do you have any problems starting at low-level entry?”

It can’t be any worse than what I’m doing now. I don’t mind where I start. It’s a stepping stone, and it’ll be a good foundation for my career. “Not at all; in fact, I’d prefer it. I’d like to know how it all works from the ground up.”

“I love your attitude. You’re right. I think there are some basic skills that many people in recruitment could learn from starting at the bottom.”

I smile and nod. I don’t know whether she’s having a dig at her colleagues or not, so best not to say anything.

“Can you tell me why you’ve been at Wild and Free Range for so long? Have you been actively looking for work relevant to your degree?”

Um, I needed the money? Loyalty? Better the devil you know?

“There’s a few reasons I guess, but truthfully, I only just got up the courage to put myself out there, and I’m both excited and terrified, but I know that it’s time.”

“Yes, it’s not always easily, but I applaud you for taking that first step. It’s always the hardest.” Julie lifts up the top page of her notepad and scans the page. “And you’re familiar with workplace OH&S laws?” she asks.

“Yes I am. Last term I studied them in great detail, and my first-aid certification is current. I’ve also recently spent time reviewing various enterprise agreements and code-of-conduct policies.”

Julie straightens the notepad on her desk, and raises her eyebrows. “Tell me, in your opinion, what do you think makes for an attractive work environment for an employee?”

“I think staff morale is very important. Staff should be given an opportunity to contribute to decision-making, where appropriate, and should be supported with learning and development. Above all, I think communication with staff is the key.”

“Excellent. Yes, all very important things for a happy workplace.”

She turns to her computer and types in a few words, then double-clicks her mouse a couple of times.

“I may have a position I could potentially put you forward for. Do you think you could obtain a reference from your current employer?”

“Not a problem,” I answer without hesitation. I’m gonna hate having that conversation with Tony, but I need it to move forward, and I can’t do that without a recommendation. I know we’ve had our differences, but I’ve always had the best interests of his business in mind.

“Just shoot that reference through and either myself or one of the team will get back to you as soon as we can.” Julie writes something down on her notepad, and then stands and hands me a business card.

I take the card, and then shake her hand. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

“Nice earrings, by the way,” she says, with a wink.

I immediately grab at my ear, recognising the small silver skull and crossbones by touch. I guess you can’t take the grunge out of the girl.

“Thanks.”

As I walk out into the crisp winter day, I have to stop and take a breath. There’s a blooming feeling inside my chest. Hope. There’s a bounce in my step. Heat rises to my cheeks and I swear, if it’s such a thing, my soul is tingling.

It’s hope.

Jesus Christ, I’ve missed this feeling.