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Fuck.
“I’m sorry, Mist, I just have shit going on.” I start to walk toward my stairs.
“Don’t be. I only wish I could help. I’m worried about you.” She frowns. “Well, if you need me, just holler, or if you want to come over for dinner, I know Hank would love to see you.” She stretches her hands up in the air, then goes into Proud Warrior stance.
“Thanks.” I grin, because coming from anyone but Misty, that would sound fucked up. I strip off my shirt and walk up the stairs leading to my side door, which stands wide open.
Jesus, did I forget to shut it?
“Well, well, well. At least I don’t have to call the hospitals.” Jett stands in the middle of the room on his phone. “I hope you don’t mind if I get some air in this tomb of alcohol and shit.” He kicks at the bags of fast food.
“What’s wrong? Why are you here?” I snap, walking around him to the refrigerator for a Gatorade.
“You tell me.” He pockets his phone, rolling up a sleeve.
“Jett.” I toss the Gatorade lid into my sink, which is full of dirty dishes.When was the last time Denise came and cleaned?
“If you came here to lecture me, I’m not in the mood.” I chug the orange-flavored sports drink.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Because I love driving over from Beverly Hills on a fucking Thursday morning. Richard is borderline hysterical that his protégé is derailing.”
I snort as I keep guzzling. “I’m fine,” I say and let out a burp so huge it echoes around the room.
His fists open and close. Clearly, he doesn’t find it funny. My eyes narrow. Jett and I haven’t gotten into a fistfight in years, but the thought of smashing my fist into his face makes me smile.
“Go ahead, big brother…” I set the bottle down.
He shakes his head and smiles. “Forget it, Brett. I’d love to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours, but you have a big day tomorrow,remember?”
“Then get out.” I move to the couch and drop down, reaching for my remote.
“Jesus Christ.” Jett looks up at the ceiling, as if that can give him patience. It can’t. It’s not one of my brother’s fortes.
“You’re making it really hard to be sympathetic, man.”
I sit up and mute the TV. “Sympathetic? I don’t want your sympathy, Jett. I have everything under control. I’m working from home today. You can assure Richard I’ll be dressed and ready to accept his job tomorrow morning.”
“Tell him yourself. Do you even want it anymore?” Jett’s question makes my heart ache, and I’m not even sure why. Standing, I walk to my liquor cabinet.
“Of course, I do.” It sounds hollow even to my ears as I grab a bottle of Jack.
“You want a drink?”
“Sure. I’ll drink with you.” He sits down on one of the kitchen barstools.
After taking a swig, I hand it to him.
“Look.” He takes a blast, then another, and sets the bottle on the island.
“I’ve been where you are, brother.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Jett, you’re so full of shit.When?You have no idea what’s going on in my fucked-up head.” Taking the bottle again, I continue, “I’ve lost my passion.Trust me, you don’t understand.” I want to punch myself. That’s why I’ve been drinking so much. I’m grasping at anything to make this ache go away.
“I’m not here to compete with you about who has had more pain. I’m here to make sure you’re making the right decision.”
“Jesus, I’ll be there. You can all relax. She’s gone,” I grumble as I put the bottle down and hold my hands up.
“Alexandrea?” I yell as I walk around. “Are you hiding?” I wait, dramatically cocking my head to listen. “No?”
