AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Again.
And again.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter, answering his fourth call, hitting the button to put it straight on speaker. “Always knew you’d be a pain in the ass, Jack. Didn’t realize you were also psychic.”
Jack laughs. “What can I say? I sensed a disturbance in the force. Figured I’d spit some Yoda-isms at you for a bit. A fuck up, you are.”
“Funny,” I mutter.
“Truthfully, I was calling to congratulate you.”
“For what?”
“For going a week without gracing the front of a single tabloid,” he says. “Went to the grocery store earlier and didn’t see your ugly mug anywhere. Made my day.”
“I’m glad I could do that for you,” I say.
“I appreciate it more than you know,” he says. “Now tell me what I can do for you.”
I hesitate, staring at the bottle. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” he says. “Try again.”
“You know, you’re supposed to be supportive and follow my lead.”
“Again, bullshit. If you wanted to be coddled, you would’ve picked someone else as your sponsor. That’s not me. I’m not babying a grown ass man when he’s whining for a bottle.”
“Yeah, well, fuck you.”
“Spill it, Cunning,” he says with a laugh. “Tell me how the big bad world hurt you.”
I’m not in the mood to talk, but I know he’s not going to drop the subject, so fuck it—I ramble, telling him all about the shitty day I’ve had.
He listens quietly, waiting until I’m done before he says, “Well, that sucks.”
I laugh bitterly, because yeah, it does. It sucks.
“Your own fault, though,” he adds.
“I know,” I mutter.
“Do you? Because I’m guessing, and correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re probably sitting alone somewhere, moping, about to drown your sorrows like you’re the victim.”
I glance around the park. It’s like he’s watching me. “Seriously, are you psychic?”
“Nah, I just know you,” he says. “You’re a self-sabotaging piece of shit some days.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. “But you know, most days, you’re pretty okay.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Too bad your movies suck.”
That makes me laugh. “Yeah, too bad.”
“But anyway, if you’re done bitching about the poor pitiful life of a Hollywood heartthrob, I’m gonna get back to my glamorous existence of trolling online and talking shit about your kind in the comments section.”
“You do that,” I say. “Thanks, Jack.”
“Anytime, Cunning. Just call me next time. Sensing the force doesn’t always work. I’m going to be pissed if you get drunk and I don’t have the chance to yell at you about it first.”
“I’ll call,” I tell him. “Next time.”
Noise startles me awake, drawing me from a restless sleep, the sound of footsteps stomping up the creaky wooden stairs. I stare at the ceiling, trying to blink the grogginess away, as the sound grows louder, closer, shadows shifting outside the bedroom door.
No hesitation, the door flings open so hard it slams into the wall. Light streams into the room from the hallway, disrupting the darkness. I wince, sitting straight up, trying to get my wits about me as I shield my eyes. “What the hell?”
“You’ve got some nerve,” a voice says, a sharp edge of anger to those words—so angry, in fact, that it takes a second for me to recognize it.
“Kennedy?” Caught off guard, I blink at her as she steps into the bedroom. Shadows mask her features, but it’s her, all right… she’s here, a few feet from the bed. I rub my eyes, trying to wake up. “Jesus, am I dreaming or something?”
“I can’t believe you,” she says, stepping closer. “That’s what you said to me. I can’t believe you. But I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing.”
I blink at her, trying to make sense of that. “What?”
“What? Seriously? What?” She throws her hands up, coming even closer. “You act like I’m this horrible person, like I’ve done some horrible thing that you can’t understand, but I didn’t. I’m not. This isn’t my fault! You left me, Jonathan.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did!”
She’s standing right in front of me, so close that I can see her hands shaking as she clenches them into fists, tears swimming in her eyes. I glance around, trying to get some sense of the time, but I’m not sure where my phone is and there’s not a clock nearby. It’s dark, though—pitch black—so I’m guessing it’s past midnight.
“You left me, Kennedy,” I say, looking back at her, “not the other way around.”
“You’re wrong,” she says. “I walked away. There’s a difference. You left me long before that. I was pregnant, and you left me.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did!”
I stall a moment when she cuts me off before saying, “I didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t make it any better!”
I want to argue, wanting to defend myself, but there’s no defending this shit. “Look, I was wrong, and I’m sorry for that.”
“So you keep saying, but sorry doesn’t change anything, Jonathan, not when you keeping acting like, ugh… that.”
She waves toward me, and I glance down at myself. “What are you talking about?”
