Strike (29 page)

I laugh out loud. Loud enough to be heard over the blaring music. I stumble back as a hiccup jumps out my mouth. Acid burns in the back of my throat. I swallow, but it doesn’t take away the sick twisted feeling in my gut. I cover my mouth, just in case.

“Come on babe,” Soph says close behind me, pulling at my elbow. “Think you need some water.” She slips her arm around my shoulder, a protective stance, and glares at Billy.

Billy sizes her up like she’s his next target.
You have no idea what her caper is, buddy.

“Who’s your friend, April?” he asks in a sly voice, widening his eyes as he gets an eyeful of her slim body. Soph’s skimpy outfit is totally working for her. If I were a lesbian, I would so do her. I’d have to learn what to do with her bits, but I’m sure she could teach me.

“Not your type is who she is,” I say, my words slurring.
Yeah. Probably do need some water.
Another hiccup, louder than the last, bursts out my mouth without warning.
As they do
.

“Who says?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her.

I laugh and grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer. “She don’t like dick,” I say.
At least, not anymore.

His mouth forms an
O
, and then grows into a pathetically wide smile.
Oh boy
. What is it with guys and lesbians? Do they all have that damn fantasy?

“Really?” he asks, sizing her up again, shaking his head from side to side.

“Yup. Think about that, Billy.” I link my arm around her tiny waist and pull her hip up against mine. “See ya.”

We leave him standing there, his jaw slack and his body frozen. I can’t stop giggling as we walk away, trying not to trip over my feet. I swear it’s like I’m wearing clown shoes. Ha, ha. Clowns. I’d make an awesome clown.

“You think I’d make a good clown?” I ask Soph, tugging on her hand to make her stop. She’s walking too fast.

Soph stops in her tracks, shakes her head and smiles.

I don’t feel like smiling.

Spencer’s a clown. My clown. At least, he was.

“This love shit hurts,” I say on an exhale.
It’s torture.

Soph smooths her thumbs over my wet cheeks. What, am I crying now? I’m losing it. I hate that I have no control over my emotions.

“Someone must be cutting onions in here, Soph, ‘cause I’m not crying. I’m not.”
I don’t want to shed any more tears for him.

I lean my head against her shoulder and push puffs of breath out my nose, and swallow the excess saliva in my mouth. Her arms wrap around me.

“Let’s get you home,” she whispers in my ear.

Urgh. I don’t feel so good.

****

* SOPHIE (Yes, Sophie) *

Saturday

If I ever see
him
again, I’m going to rip him a new one. I have never seen April like this. This week has been torture for her, but I won’t tell her I’m cut up too. I’ve been living my own personal hell, watching someone I love in so much pain.

I love April.

I love her as a best friend, but my feelings run deeper than that. April knows it, but she doesn’t
really
know how I feel. I imagine us being together. I have inappropriate sexy feelings about her.

I haven’t always had a thing for women. I think I’m one of those people that just love ‘people’. It’s a person that connects with you, not their gender. I know it’s not socially acceptable to be that way, but there’s a reason I won’t go back to men. Once bitten, twice … no fucking way. From the first night I met April, there was an energy about her which connected with me on some deep level. Like a soul-mate kind of vibe. But this week, those wanton thoughts have been buried deep. I’m here to support my friend.

I have never seen someone cry so much.
Ever.
Surely it’s not normal, or even physically possible. Being with April through this has been intense, and emotionally draining, but I couldn’t be anywhere else. She needs me. The poor girl has no one, and I find that really sad because she is an amazing person. She is giving and caring, smart and funny … and sexy and beautiful.

April is perfect.

Men are dumb pricks. You’d think a guy would have noticed that about her, and whisked her off her feet. Dumb and dumb. And as for Spencer Dickface Jones, he’d better get a restraining order against me, because the next time I see his pretty face I’m rearranging it. I wanna see him bleed. What Mac did to him will be like a slap on the wrist.

April has her dad, and they’re normally really close, but I can understand why she’s keeping her distance from him. She was pretty shaken up the way he spoke to her that night. The sick thing is, she’s sorry she disappointed him. She has a habit of putting herself last. Seems to be what gets her into these messes. But I knew she was falling for Spencer. Even before they’d slept together, which is just crazy. The look on her face says it all. He got to her. Got under her skin. He got his claws into her heart, and then proceeded to rip it out.

Last night I’d done what any friend would do. Any good friend. I’d held her hair back while she spewed. Like,
all
night. She’d heaved and heaved, and I was sure at one point I saw blood. As if that weren’t enough, there were the tears. Each one was like a knife stabbing at my heart. If it hurts me that much just to watch her cry, I can’t imagine what it’s like for her. When she asked me what she did to deserve this pain, I couldn’t help but cry with her.

When there was nothing left in her, I washed her face with a cool cloth, helped her into some pyjamas and tucked her into bed. I kept a bucket close at hand and lay beside her, wide awake, so I’d be ready if she needed me again. April had snuggled into me, her body trembling as she’d clung to me as if I were her last hope.

I’d liked it. More than I should have. But this isn’t the kind of love I want April to feel for me. She’s made her feelings for me clear: we are friends. Best of friends. I know that, but it’s hard to switch
it
off.

I have a chance to be happy.
The doctor.
It’s time to put myself out there again. Take a chance to be happy. I know April is right.

April stirs beside me, and I sweep the hair from her face as her eyes flutter open.

“Never,” she says, clearing her cloggy throat, “never,
ever
, let me do Jägerbombs again, Soph.”

She smiles and then winces as if just that simple action hurts. She really overdid it. But stubborn as she is, she didn’t listen when I told her she’d had enough. She said as long as Spencer’s name was still in her heart, she needed another.

“I promise, babe. No more Jägerbombs, and no more rides on the porcelain bus for you.”

April lies on her back and stares at the ceiling, running her hands over her stomach. Her gaze doesn’t move from the fixed spot on the roof, and after not answering me for a while, I have to look up to see what’s got her so intrigued. There’s nothing but white ceiling and a dusty light fitting.

“It’s been nearly a week. You know I really thought he’d call. Guess he didn’t feel like explaining after all. I thought I meant … never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It had pained me to see her glued to her phone, making sure it was always charged and within arm’s reach.
In case he called.
What the fuck was wrong with him? He must be guilty as hell to walk away from April, because I can’t think of another reason for his lack of communication. This no contact only confirms it. “You feeling okay?” I ask, leaning up on my elbow.

Her chest rises as she breathes in deep, and then falls as she lets it out through her mouth, repeating several times. She turns to me, and takes my closest her hand in hers.

“Thank you, Soph. For everything. I’m so sorry about last night, this whole damn week, but right now I know there’s only one thing I can do to be okay.” A tear rolls down her cheek, and she looks away. April slowly rises out of bed and leaves the room. The water pipes in the shower groan a moment later.

Any decision she made in that split second, with a motherfucker of a hangover, can’t be good. I have a feeling I’m about to lose April.

She’s gonna do it again.

****

* SPENCER *

Sunday

My phone pings. It’s a text from April.

She must want to see me. She’s gonna give me a chance to explain. Thank Christ for that. My life has been hell without her.

My heart pounds harder as I open up the message.

A
PRIL
:
I
’M GOING TO
S
PAIN.
I
WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU IF YOU’D CALLED ME, BUT YOU HAVEN’T.
I
THOUGHT
I
MEANT MORE TO YOU THAN THAT.
I
F YOU HAD HAVE CALLED, THINGS MIGHT BE DIFFERENT.
G
OODBYE
S
PENCER X

She’s going to Spain. FUCK! No. No. And. Fucking. No.

She
can’t
leave.

I dial her number, and it goes straight to voicemail.

“Hi! You’ve reached April MacIntyre, freelance photographer. Your call is very important to me, so please leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you!”

Every word from her sweet mouth is like an army of knives stabbing at my chest. I can’t bear to leave a message. The last time I tried to call her was when she walked out of that hotel room in Coolum, dragging my heart with her. Fuck it hurt to see her like that, but it fucking sucked that she wouldn’t let me explain.

That’s it! I have to sort this shit out once and for all. Where the fuck have my balls been this past week? She’s not leaving. She can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes.

Starting with Mac.

****

“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice, Mac.”

“I’m here reluctantly. Just spit it out, boy.”

“I need to see her,” I bark out, my intent wrapped clear around every word.

He tilts his head to the side and frowns. “You talking about Peaches?”

I nod.

“Ha! Thought you would’ve moved on by now. It’s what you do.”

He really has a low opinion of me. I thought I was starting to change that.

“I love her, Mac. I’ve told you this. I didn’t cheat on her. I couldn’t … ever.”

“And I told you to stay the fuck away or find a new team. Do you need to clean your ears? Because I thought I was crystal.”

“Yeah, I heard you, but I know what I want. It’s been the worst fucking week of my life, not talking to her and explaining. I know she feels the same way, and I know that with each passing day she’s hurting—”

“Oh, she’s hurting alright. You made sure you did a good job of it,” he barks.

“I need to talk to her. I have to, because without her, nothing else matters.” I breathe out loudly. “That includes my place on the team.”

Mac’s jaw goes slack, and for a good while he stares at me, all kinds of thoughts seemingly taunting him by the wrinkling of his brow, and the twitch of his mouth.

He scratches his head. “What are you saying, boy? You’d give up your place on the most sought-out team in Australia … for my girl?”

“Yep.”
In a heartbeat.

“Well, damn,” Mac mutters under his breath. He stands up, towering over me and brings his hand towards my face. I tense up, thinking he’s gonna deck me, instead he rests his large hand on my shoulder.

“She’s worth the fight, Jones. I’m just glad you see that now.”

“I don’t just see it; I know it.”

He squeezes my shoulder, and his mouth curls into a sly smile.

“Your place on the team is safe, Jones, but as to whether she’ll see you … it’s up to her now.”

“Thanks, Mac.” I stand up and shake his hand. He squeezes my hand in a death grip, pulling me closer, his mouth to my ear.

“And Jones … if you hurt her, it’s the end for you. No open casket.”

Gulp. Big ol’ psycho grizzly bear, ready to eat me alive.
Message received, loud and clear.

“Got it.”

He lets go of my hand, and I have to stretch out my fingers to help recirculate the blood.

“See you in a few weeks, boy. Bring your A-game.”

“Will do, Mac.’

I get into my Range Rover and drive towards the little shop to pick up the gift I’d organised for April weeks ago.

Let’s just hope she doesn’t throw it back in my face. It might just be too little too late.

****

* APRIL *

Three hard knocks to the apartment door have me frozen with fear. I can’t see him. I won’t. Not now. I just have to pretend I’m not here. Tiptoeing towards the door, I listen for any sounds.

“Peaches, it’s me.” Daddy’s soft voice filters through the cracks.

Heaving a huge sigh of relief, I open the door, but it’s soon replaced with disappointment. Even my message telling Spencer I was going overseas wasn’t enough for him to come see me. I’m better off without him if he doesn’t even have the decency to pay me a visit after that.

“Hey. Come in,” I mutter. Daddy steps inside, and pulls me into his arms for one of his infamous giant bear hugs.

“I’ve missed my girl,” he says and kisses my forehead. I squeeze him tighter, and grind my teeth together to stop myself from crying. I thought I was done with that shit. I’m not crying over Spencer anymore. I’m moving on.

I pull away from Daddy’s hold and, unable to look at him, I walk through to the living room. I move two boxes out of the way and we sit down on the couch together. Daddy wraps his arm around my shoulders and I snuggle into his side and look up at him.

“Are you okay?” he asks warily, not looking me in the eye.

“I’ll live.” Barely.

“Talk to me, Peaches. It drives me up the wall knowing what happened, and you haven’t taken my calls. I spoke to Soph, and she’s worried about you. I need to know you’re okay. You know I’m always here to listen.”

“Why did you yell at me like that? Like this was my fault?” The tone in his voice that night had been frightening.