Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) by Lena Bourne Page A
Authors: Lena Bourne
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One day you'll thank me."
I laugh hoarsely. It's possibly the saddest sound I've ever made. "Can't you just let me make my own choices?"
"I see you're not gonna be any fun today," Mike says and gets up, zipping up his jacket. "I thought we could go see the apartment and then have some fun. But I guess not."
Fun? What, with knives? He's so sick. There's no trace in his tone, his face that I've just asked him to stop making these insane demands of me, except for his nose twitching a little, but that's probably just from the coke.
"Answer your phone from now on," he says. "Whatever the time."
I shrug, finally say OK, when he won't stop glaring at me. Then he's gone, and it's dark outside and all I want to do is go back to sleep. Which I do, because with all this shit, I feel like I've been awake for weeks, and there's nothing much to stay awake for anyway.
The next couple of weeks pass in a haze of sleeping, drinking too much and answering Mike's calls, which are either about jobs or him telling me to move to the city. At least the jobs are sparse. I only did two others since the first one, and it was stealing cars from rich people, so at least there's that.
Sleep's not much help though. In the dream I just woke up from, I sat on the broken pier at the beach and watched Gail walking away, the pain of her retreat ripping my chest open. I've started keeping the downstairs door unlocked, so Gail can come in more easily if she's gonna. Which she probably isn't because it's been like a month and a half and none of those noises in the hallway that keep waking me up are ever her. Nor has she called. Which is just what I wanted, since it means she's over me. Completely. And that hurts worse than everything else combined.
I get my phone and call Mike, tell him I'm ready to see the apartment. I'm really not, but it seemed like a good idea so I went with it.
Mike's all chatty and happy on the way there. I stare out my window and hardly speak.
It's on the sixtieth floor of a brand new skyscraper overlooking the Freedom Tower. It's like the view's mocking me too. Freedom. My new life is not that much different than prison. I take the apartment on the spot, not even bothering to check out the bedroom or bathroom. I’m sure they’re fantastic. The apartment’s probably owned by Vlado and his people, so this is just another way of them keeping me in check, but I honestly don't care anymore. I have to start this new life for real eventually, and it might as well be today.
Mike's on the phone in the kitchen, making the arrangement for me to rent the apartment. I stand really close to the living room windows, trying to look down to the street. I wonder what it'd be like to just jump. My stomach cramps at the image of the pavement coming closer, the cold wind whooshing all around me. How long would the fall take anyway? Minutes? Seconds? I've never been good at physics, but I imagine it would seem like a very long time. Long enough to regret it, probably. The windows don't open more than a crack anyway.
"It's all settled," Mike informs me. "You can move in whenever."
My mind's still stuck in imagining the free fall, and it takes a few moments for his words to register.
"Awesome," I mutter. Gail could be waiting for me at Mom’s apartment right now. I should get back. This was a bad idea. She'll never be able to find me here. But she found me in Alaska. That memory brings more pain than joy now, kinda makes it hard to breathe, but they all do.
"I'll just get my stuff," I say, taking the keys Mike's holding out to me.
"Next step is getting you a new ride," Mike says, as I'm unlocking Andrew's car in the garage. "This family wagon has to go."
"I'm kinda used to it," I mutter. I couldn't care less about getting a new car.
"Wanna do something now?" Mike asks and I shake my head. The need to go see if Gail's at the apartment is a rising panic. I'm certain she’s there and I'm wasting precious time.
The drive back
I laugh hoarsely. It's possibly the saddest sound I've ever made. "Can't you just let me make my own choices?"
"I see you're not gonna be any fun today," Mike says and gets up, zipping up his jacket. "I thought we could go see the apartment and then have some fun. But I guess not."
Fun? What, with knives? He's so sick. There's no trace in his tone, his face that I've just asked him to stop making these insane demands of me, except for his nose twitching a little, but that's probably just from the coke.
"Answer your phone from now on," he says. "Whatever the time."
I shrug, finally say OK, when he won't stop glaring at me. Then he's gone, and it's dark outside and all I want to do is go back to sleep. Which I do, because with all this shit, I feel like I've been awake for weeks, and there's nothing much to stay awake for anyway.
The next couple of weeks pass in a haze of sleeping, drinking too much and answering Mike's calls, which are either about jobs or him telling me to move to the city. At least the jobs are sparse. I only did two others since the first one, and it was stealing cars from rich people, so at least there's that.
Sleep's not much help though. In the dream I just woke up from, I sat on the broken pier at the beach and watched Gail walking away, the pain of her retreat ripping my chest open. I've started keeping the downstairs door unlocked, so Gail can come in more easily if she's gonna. Which she probably isn't because it's been like a month and a half and none of those noises in the hallway that keep waking me up are ever her. Nor has she called. Which is just what I wanted, since it means she's over me. Completely. And that hurts worse than everything else combined.
I get my phone and call Mike, tell him I'm ready to see the apartment. I'm really not, but it seemed like a good idea so I went with it.
Mike's all chatty and happy on the way there. I stare out my window and hardly speak.
It's on the sixtieth floor of a brand new skyscraper overlooking the Freedom Tower. It's like the view's mocking me too. Freedom. My new life is not that much different than prison. I take the apartment on the spot, not even bothering to check out the bedroom or bathroom. I’m sure they’re fantastic. The apartment’s probably owned by Vlado and his people, so this is just another way of them keeping me in check, but I honestly don't care anymore. I have to start this new life for real eventually, and it might as well be today.
Mike's on the phone in the kitchen, making the arrangement for me to rent the apartment. I stand really close to the living room windows, trying to look down to the street. I wonder what it'd be like to just jump. My stomach cramps at the image of the pavement coming closer, the cold wind whooshing all around me. How long would the fall take anyway? Minutes? Seconds? I've never been good at physics, but I imagine it would seem like a very long time. Long enough to regret it, probably. The windows don't open more than a crack anyway.
"It's all settled," Mike informs me. "You can move in whenever."
My mind's still stuck in imagining the free fall, and it takes a few moments for his words to register.
"Awesome," I mutter. Gail could be waiting for me at Mom’s apartment right now. I should get back. This was a bad idea. She'll never be able to find me here. But she found me in Alaska. That memory brings more pain than joy now, kinda makes it hard to breathe, but they all do.
"I'll just get my stuff," I say, taking the keys Mike's holding out to me.
"Next step is getting you a new ride," Mike says, as I'm unlocking Andrew's car in the garage. "This family wagon has to go."
"I'm kinda used to it," I mutter. I couldn't care less about getting a new car.
"Wanna do something now?" Mike asks and I shake my head. The need to go see if Gail's at the apartment is a rising panic. I'm certain she’s there and I'm wasting precious time.
The drive back
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