The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(120)
“My dad’s out for blood. My mum’s convinced she’s just gone somewhere to be on her own. Jim and Ash don’t think she’d do anything stupid, not with there being a chance that they’re pregnant. I’m just worried because she’s not answering her phone. She must know we’d all be worried.” I want to punch something, I want to jump out of the car and smash something up. I’ve never felt a level of anger and frustration like it. I try to take in a big gulp of air, but instead, a sound resembling a wounded animal escapes from somewhere inside me, and I don’t care. I need to let it out before I explode. I drop my phone down beside me and drop my head between my legs, trying to calm myself down.
“Pull over,” I tell Mark. Scott turns around and looks at me.
“Ben?” I hear Mark question. I kick the back of the car seat with the flat of my foot.
“Pull the f*ck over!” I roar.
“Oi!” Benny shouts at me. “Pull over at the next layby before he causes a f*cking accident,” he tells Mark. I don’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop as we swing onto the hard shoulder. I jump out and march up the bank and into the small wooded area and punch the first tree I come to, then I kick it, then I punch it again and again. Benny spins me around by my shoulder.
“Will you stop, you f*cking idiot. You’ll break your hand.” I swing a punch at Ben, but he dodges it and cracks me right on the jaw with a right hook I don’t even see coming. I actually see stars as my legs buckle. I land on my knees and remain still for a few seconds. “That’s for Georgia, ya cunt. Now go get in the car and grow the f*ck up, you selfish prick.” I can hear him breathing heavily as he walks past me. I take a few seconds to compose myself before trying to stand. I swipe at the corner of my mouth and see blood on the side of my finger. I run my tongue over the spot and feel the split in my lip. Fucker. I stomp back to the car and slam the door extra hard as I get back in. We pull off in silence.
I lace my fingers behind my neck and stare up at the roof interior, watching the shadows the other cars on the motorway make with their headlights. Where would she go? I try and think like Georgia would, but that’s impossible. That girl’s brain is unique. They broke the mould when they made her.
“Where’d you want dropping, boss?” Marky asks from the driver’s seat. We’ve driven for the last twenty minutes in silence.
“Right now, off the nearest tall building,” I mumble like a sulky child. Which then gets me to thinking, I don’t want to go back to the new house. I’d rather stay in the city. Marley’s old place is only around the corner from our old apartment. If that’s the last area Georgia was seen, then that’s where I want to be. “Take me to the wharf. I’m not going back to Essex if the paps are all there waiting. Just drop me in the underground garage at the tower.”
*
As soon as I walk into the living and kitchen area and the motion sensor lighting comes on, I spot the empty wine glass, then her shoes at the bottom of the stairs. I head up them two at a time. I can smell her, taste her on my tongue, and for some reason, it makes my eyes water. I head along the landing and through the open door of the master suite and she’s there. I have to cover my mouth with my hand so the girly f*cking sobbing noises I’m making don’t wake her up.
I lean in the doorway and watch her sleep. She’s curled in the middle of the bed wearing one of my sweatshirts. Her knees are pulled up to her chest as she lays in the foetal position, her long hair fanned out on the pillow beside her. Her mouth is slightly open and she looks as young as she did that very first time she walked into my wine bar, only now, she’s so much more beautiful.
As much as I could stand here watching her sleep, I need to let her family know she’s safe. I should grow some and call Frank, but I just want to shower and crawl into bed with my Kitten, not stand and listen to a three-hour long, Frank Layton lecture, so I call Bailey instead.
“This better be good news,” is all he says.
“I’ve got her. She’s at our apartment at the Wharf.”
“She okay?”
“She’s sleeping. I’ll get her to call her mum in the morning.”
“You do that… and King?” Here we go…
“Yeah?”
“Me and you, I think we need a chat.” I close my eyes and take a long breath.
“It was December, Bails, we weren’t even together.”
“You face f*cked a bird in an airport toilet, then turned up at my ol’ man’s declaring undying love for my sister. Like I said, we need to talk.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I end the call.
*
I go into the guest suite to shower, and as I towel myself dry my phone rings. I grab it from the side of the sink quickly, not wanting the sound to wake Georgia up. Tamara’s name shows up on the screen so I silence my phone and ignore the call.
I hate the woman. How she got pregnant is still a complete mystery to me. I’m sure I would’ve noticed if the condom had split the last time I f*cked her in Ibiza.
If it wasn’t for the fact that the baby’s mine, I would’ve cut all ties but I can’t. She’s going to be released from the unit she’s been in in the next couple of weeks. I’ve had the best head doctors involved in evaluating her, and they all seemed to agree she’s ready, and she can be trusted with the baby. I’m still not convinced. She may be clean, but that’s only because she’s been locked up and had no access to drugs. Now that she is being given some freedom and allowed out on her own, she is being tested every couple of days. Tamara may be an addict, but she’s also smart and devious and probably prepared to go to great lengths to get out of that place.