Love Drunk (Broken Lives Book 4) Page 8

  “Yeah, who’s this?” he snapped out, his breathing heavy, probably from whoring, my dad unable to keep it in his pants.

  “Did you threaten her?” I barked back, heading for my room. The receptionist ran after me, the clip clop of her heels sounding loud in the corridor. I continued ignoring her, purely focused on the phone call.

  “Dante?” my dad asked.

  “Well, it ain’t Ash, cos he’s done with your lying, skank-ho arse.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? I haven’t spoken to you in ages, yet you start flinging insults at me, not even giving me a kia ora or how the fuck are ya, Dad?”

  “You could’ve called me too, but no, you’re too busy bein’ a whore, not giving a damn ’bout me.”

  “What the hell? Of course I give a damn ’bout you, boy. And why are you biting my bloody head off?”

  “Clara,” I said, entering my room.

  He shut up pretty damn quick at that, and so did the receptionist, the bird stopping in my doorway.

  I continued blasting my old man through the phone, not caring whether she heard or not. “Did you threaten Clara to keep quiet?”

  “How do you know ’bout that bitch?”

  “Firstly, she’s not a bitch, and secondly, she’s a counsellor at the rehab I’m at.”

  “You’re in rehab? When the fuck did this happen and why wuzn’t I told?”

  “What would you have done? Come up here? Yeah, right, you’re too fuckin’ scared Killer will find you. There’s no way you’d risk returning to Auckland.”

  He didn’t reply, what I’d said spot on.

  “You can’t let that psycho keep you away from your family, Dad,” I said. “Just clap a restraining order on him.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Then grow your balls back and return home.”

  “I can’t come back, not yet anyway. I’m just waiting until things calm down between me and Killer.”

  “Then at least tell me the truth ’bout Clara. She admitted she used to love me, that I loved her too, but won’t say anything else. Did you threaten her?”

  “No.”

  “Then why won’t she tell me what went down during those months I lost?”

  “I can’t speak for her, other than I told her to stay away from you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want you anywhere near that paedo.”

  “She ain’t a fuckin’ paedo, otherwise she wouldn’t have perved at me while I wuz skinny dipping yesterday.”

  “CC did what?!” the receptionist yelled.

  I turned to her. “Yeah, she fuckin’ watched me while I wuz doin’ laps naked.”

  “The fuckin’ dirty bitch,” my dad growled over the phone.

  “She ain’t dirty, she’s obviously still hung up on me, which leads me to the question of why I’m not with her anymore, and I’ve got a feeling it’s to do with you.”

  “It ain’t got nuthin’ to do with me. You dropped that fuckin’ paedo after you found out she cheated on you.”

  “She cheated on me?”

  “No, she didn’t,” the receptionist snapped.

  “Whoever’s feeding you bullshit on the other end of the line, tell her to shut the fuck up,” my dad barked. “Cos she did. That bitch wuz married, fucked her husband while fuckin’ you, a fifteen-year-old boy. So, don’t tell me she wuzn’t a cheat.”

  I frowned, remembering Jasper calling Clara Mrs. Hatton—that name also in my dream.

  “So, get off your high horse, Dante,” my dad continued. “And leave that place you’re at. That teacher wuz bad news from the start. She tried to take off with you, which is kidnap, son.”

  “Not if I went willingly with her.”

  “You were fifteen! That’s kidnap, not to mention statutory rape, cos I know you fucked her, boy.”

  “I’m not a bloody boy anymore, so talk to me as an adult.”

  “If you want me to treat you like an adult, then start acting like one instead of throwing tantrums at me.”

  “I need to know ’bout those months I lost. You know it grates on me. Just tell me the truth ’bout Clara.”

  “She’s responsible for the accident.”

  “How? What did she do?”

  “If she hadn’t taken off with you, you wouldn’t have had that car crash. You may have been driving the car, Dante, but it wuz that bitch who put the keys in your hand. If it wuzn’t for her, you wouldn’t have lost any of your memory, you also wouldn’t have almost died. That is why I never told you ’bout that sick bitch. And if you want me back in Auckland so bad, I’ll return. But on one condition.”

  “What?”

  “Leave that rehab. We’ll find you another one.”

  “’Kay,” I said, knowing I could talk my manager into forgiving me, especially under the circumstances.

  “Good. Where do ya wanna meet? The club?”

  “My new place.” I rattled off the address.

  “Don’t bullshit me, there’s no way you’re living in Herne Bay,” my dad replied. “So stop pissing around and gimme the real address.”

  “That is the real address. My manager owns the place. He’s lettin’ me stay there, well, outside of rehab.”

  “What do you mean by manager?”

  “I’ve got a record deal.”

  “You’re pulling my tit.”

  “Nah, it’s real, my manager owns the company.”

  “Well shit, that’s great news, boy! Should crack some beers open for that.”

  “I’m in rehab for alcoholism.”

  “Fine, light up some weed, either way, I’m proud of you. Always said you had a bloody good voice. You should get your brother a contract too, his voice is just as good as yours, and it might get him out of the drug trade.”

  “He’s already quit the trade.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it’s bloody good news all around. Looks like I have a lot to catch up on with you boys.”

  I didn’t reply, knowing there was no way Ash would welcome a reunion with Dad, my bro hating his guts.

  “Anyway, gimme your address again,” my dad said. “Didn’t catch it all.”

  I gave it to him, then said goodbye, hanging up, my attention returning to the receptionist. “Do ya know anything ’bout what went down between me and your mate?”

  She grimaced. “That’s not for me to say.”

  “I needa know.”

  “No, you need to give me the phone back before I report you.”

  “Then report me, bitch, cos I don’t give a shit.” Sneering at her, I dialled my manager’s number, Jade picking up a second later. “I hafta leave rehab.”

  “No, Dante,” he answered, his Texas accent coming through the line strong, “you need to get clean, and the contract states—”

  “I need to leave, Jade. There’s someone ’ere I can’t be around without losing my shit over. Someone from my past.”

  “Who?”

  “My Year Eleven English teacher. I had an affair with her when I wuz fifteen.”

  Jade went silent, only the sound of his sharp inhale reaching my ears.

  “So, come and get me.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” he said. “I’ll be there within the hour.” He hung up.

  I walked over to the receptionist, holding the phone out for her to take. “With the way you and Clara act, I’m guessing your best mates. Is that true?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I’m guessing she told you ’bout me.”

  “Everything.”

  “Then tell me why she won’t say what happened between us, and if you don’t, I’m gonna report her for watching me swim naked.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t do that!”

  “I can and I will if someone doesn’t tell me the goddamned truth!”

  She jolted. “This isn’t CC’s fault, none of it is, it’s yours.”

  “How’s it mine?”

  “You chased her,
made her fall in love with you—”

  “How the fuck could I make her fall in love with me? I wuz a fifteen-year-old kid back then. What she did wuz illegal. She could’ve gone to jail for...” I stopped, the shank scar on her back suddenly making sense.

  “She did go to jail for it,” the receptionist said, finishing off my thoughts. “People found out about her affair with you. You two escaped up north, but your father was badly hurt, or something like that, so you tried to return to see him. Clara went with you, that’s when the crash happened. A van crossed over the centreline, smashing into your car head on. After Clara woke up, she was arrested for endangering a child, amongst other things, while you remained in a coma for months.”

  “How long did she go to jail for?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t for long.

  “Just over three years.”

  “Fuck!” I said, feeling like shit.

  “Yeah, fuck all right. The system really screwed her over. She almost died in there. It’s how I met her. After she got shanked, she was transferred to the protected unit.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “You’re an ex con?”

  She shook her head. “No, my conviction got thrown out after it was proved I acted in self-defence. But this isn’t about me, it’s about CC. She doesn’t want you knowing about what happened to her because she’s afraid you’ll feel guilty. Your father’s boyfriend also threatened to mutilate her. He broke into our house, telling CC he’d give her a Joker smile if she didn’t stay away from you. We think he also broke into our house this morning. A threatening letter was left next to CC’s bed.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Fuckin’ Killer,” I growled out, knowing he was more than capable of doing shit like that, the guy a complete whack job. His third personality was also a stone-cold killer, not to mention a fucking prick, the psycho getting a boner over tormenting my dad.

  I turned to my wardrobe, ready to pack and leave.

  “What are you doing?” the receptionist asked.

  “Leaving,” I said, stuffing my clothes into my bag.

  “Are you going to take care of this Killer guy, make sure he doesn’t come anywhere near CC?”

  “You bet I am.” I finished stuffing my bag and headed out of my room, hoping Jade got here quick. As I entered the reception area, I spotted Clara behind the desk. Her gaze snapped to me, then the receptionist, who was running after me.

  “What’s happening?” Clara asked, shooting around the side of the desk, her expression worried.

  Georgie ran past me, rushing over to Clara. “Dante’s leaving. He thinks it’s Killer who broke into our house. He’s going to take care of him.”

  Clara’s eyes snapped back to me. “In what way?”

  “I’ll make him back off. He’s fucked up my dad’s life, I’m not lettin’ him terrorise yours too.” I stopped in front of her. “So, you went to jail for me?”

  She threw a glare at the receptionist. “Georgie! What did you say?”

  Georgie shifted about, guilt written across her face. “It’s not my fault, he pried it out of me.”

  I cut in, “So, you goin’ to Oz wuz really you goin’ to prison?”

  Clara nodded.

  I grimaced, feeling like shit she’d gone down for me, the sight of that shank scar bad. It might not have been my fault, but... “I’m sorry,” I said, and meaning it, the woman not deserving what was done to her. From what I’d gathered from my dream... No, from what I remembered, I’d been the one who’d instigated the sex in her office, not the other way around. Yeah, I’d walked in on her calling out my name while she was frigging herself, but I’d still approached her, ripping her knickers off. I’d wanted her just as much as she’d wanted me, and for her to get time for it... It was a damn hard pill to swallow.

  “I knew you’d feel bad,” she replied, “that’s why I never told you. Plus, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She glanced around, probably checking that no one else was listening. The guard was standing outside, too far away to overhear us. Still, she lowered her voice, “I shouldn’t have done anything with you. What I did wasn’t just unethical, it was illegal. I knew that, knew the consequences, yet I still went with you. So, don’t blame yourself.”

  I nodded, knowing she was right, but still feeling shit about it. “I won’t bother you again, nor will Killer. I’ll sort it all out.” I turned to the door, stopping as she said my name.

  She walked around me, her back to the door. “You don’t have to leave for good. Come back, get clean.”

  I frowned, knowing I had more issues than booze. “Only if you help me remember what I lost.”

  She bit her lip, looking like she wanted to say no, but instead nodded. “But only if you sort things out with Killer.”

  “I already said I would.” I smiled at her softly, hoping she didn’t take my rapid response the wrong way, my words unintentionally sounding harsh. “And thanks, I really need this.”

  “There’s no need to thank me.” She dropped her gaze, hiding behind a curtain of pink hair, so shy, so cute it made me smile wider. I wondered whether she was this shy when we’d first met, hiding behind her hair in the same way.

  I brushed her hair aside, hooking it behind her ear. “But I want to thank you,” I said, and meaning it, more than grateful she was going to help me regain my memory.

  Her eyes flicked back up to me, her cheeks firing up at the contact, but she didn’t push my hand away. Regardless, I lowered my hand, realising it might come across as a bit too intimate to others, especially in her place of work.

  I continued, “I didn’t realise you went through so much shit for me. Of course, seeing me again would bring back bad memories. I just wish I could go back and tell myself not to fuck you, not cos I don’t want to, but cos of what you had to go through afterwards.”

  She smiled sadly. “Your younger self would probably tell you to go get fucked and do it anyway.”

  I chuckled. “True, I wuz a right prick back then. Hell, I’m a right prick now.”

  “You got that right,” Georgie muttered behind me.

  Clara threw a scowl at her. “Georgie.”

  “Just agreeing with him,” she muttered.

  Clara refocused on me. “Sorry for Georgie, she’s scared you’re going to hurt me. She’s really protective of me.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve got someone watching your back.” I turned to Georgie, saluting her. “Keep it up, Betty Boop, Clara deserves to be looked after. Anyway, I’ll go wait outside for my manager, let you two lovely ladies get back to work.”

  I sidestepped Clara and exited the door, my mind now set on making sure that Killer stayed away from her.

  13

  Dante

  I strode into the Skins’ headquarters. My music producer/manager ran after me, the short arse working overtime to keep up with me. Jade had picked me up from the rehab centre, harping on about getting Clara fired so I could return. I’d put a quick stop to that, telling him that she was the only reason I would return, so she could help me get my memories back, but not before I sorted out this mess with Killer. Little did he know that nothing ever went that smoothly with my dad’s ex, whose full name was Painkiller Rakete, a psycho with three personalities. The gang had taken to calling Painkiller different names according to which personality was present. They called his main personality Killer, the feminine one Pain, and the sociopath one Murderer, a joke that had stuck, only my dad not using the name. He just called Murderer Cunt. He hated that personality, blamed Murderer for destroying his relationship with Killer, who he genuinely loved. He even loved Killer’s other personality, Pain, just couldn’t handle Murderer, who he’d gotten into numerous fights with, the last one ending their relationship. And it was probably Murderer who’d threatened Clara, the prick a law unto himself.

  I headed through the lounge, the place barren, which made sense, since it was too early in the day for anyone to be here. Though, it would probably look empty most nights too, since the majority of the gang had been
hauled off to prison. Only a lucky few had gotten off the charges over the Skins’ illegal car operation, my best mate unfortunately not one of them.

  My eyes gravitated to the bar on my left, a row of bottles catching my attention, one of them a Jack Daniels. I swallowed, already imagining the liquid burning a path down my throat. I glanced back at Jade, indicating to a door on the far side of the room, “Go check out the photos in the hallway while I’ll say a quick g’day to the sheilas in the kitchen. Maybe I can sweet talk ’em into making us some sammies.”

  His gaze flicked to the bottles, Jade well aware of what I was up to. He went to open his mouth, probably to tell me no, but he was cut off by a female calling out my name. The Vice Prez’s old lady emerged through the doorway behind the bar, looking ecstatic to see my alcoholic arse. Mindy dropped her washcloth and ran around the bar, giving me a massive hug. I hugged her back, Fabian’s wife a right sweetheart.

  She gave me a squeeze before pulling back, all smiles despite her husband being one of the men imprisoned. Though, I’d heard that Fabian could be getting out soon, which was probably why she was so happy. My mate had confessed to being the kingpin of the operation, spouting off bullshit that he’d brought in stolen vehicles behind Fabian’s and the prez’s backs, so he could get them sprung from jail. The authorities hadn’t believed him, but the gang’s lawyer kept at it, finally managing to find a loophole to get them out, Jasper’s confession working in the end. Which fucking sucked for Jasper, since it meant he was going to be in prison for a few more years. Still, I understood why he’d done it. After his dad had been gunned down and his auntie had gone missing, Mindy and her husband had become like parents to him, especially Mindy. She’d constantly turned up to his place with home-cooked meals, then proceeded to fuss over him as though he was her own son, insisting on doing his housekeeping. I guessed he wanted to give her something in return: her husband’s freedom.

  “I heard you went to a rehab,” Mindy said. “Did it go well?”

  “Yeah,” I lied, preferring to see the sweet smile remain on her face. I still couldn’t get over Fabian catching a bird like her. Most of the guys, with the exception of the prez, had skank-hoes, something Mindy definitely wasn’t. She was a tiny blonde waif of a woman with the sweetest face, so sweet you would expect to see her in a library, not in a gang’s headquarters. She also looked a good decade younger than her forty-five years, one of the few women in the club that time had been kind to.