Page 78 of Closer

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THE EX FACTOR

LEVI

I’m not ready for this. No matter how I prepare, I’ll never be fucking ready for this. My best friend is dead, and I’m sat here in my apartment, showered, but naked, staring at the suit I’m supposed to wear to his viewing. Because everyone wants to see Ash—the once fit and very much alive rock star—pasty-faced and staring up at them from the inside of a casket. Four days after his death and I still don’t really believe it. I still can’t function, I can’t breathe, and whisky and coke are the only things keeping me afloat.

If I could be bothered, I’d go out and find some pussy—hell, maybe I’d even get lucky and contract AIDS too. There’s a strange sort of poetic justice in that, going out like Ash did, finally getting my comeuppance after a lifetime of using women. But I’m too drunk to even muster a semi, and what the hell would be the point? I’d only be blinded by desire imagining it was Brie’s pussy I was burying myself in, and heartbroken all over again when I opened my eyes and saw it wasn’t her.

What was the fucking point in any of it? I may as well just sit here and drink myself to death. At least then I know I’d be happy with my bedfellows in the morning. I wouldn’t have to throw Jack, Jim, or Johnnie out when the sun rose, because they’d be gone, all used up.

There’s a knock on my door and I get up to open it. I stagger a bit before leaning on the wall and moving at a snail’s pace towards it. I throw it open, not caring that I’m naked, or who might be on the other side. Maybe I should have though, because strangely enough, my two exes stand in my doorway.

“Jesus, did I just step onto the set ofRevenge?”

“You’re drunk,” Ali says, looking down her nose at me, which is impressive for someone so vertically challenged.

“And you’re married. Me being drunk never stopped us before, but hey, I’m up for it if you two are.”

“Cut the shit, Levi,” Ali says.

“At least I’d go out with a bang.” Both women just glare at me. “Where the fuck is Zed when you need him? He’d have gotten that joke.”

“We might have too, if it had actually been funny,” Ali says.

“Not that it isn’t nice to see the two women I fucked and who fucked me up in a room together, but what do you want?”

“I heard about your friend,” Brie says. It’s the first time she’s said anything since I pulled back the door, and the sound of her voice—that fucking hot French accent—guts me to the core. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Yeah, well sorry doesn’t bring him back, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Brie sighs and Ali just shakes her head and says, “You need to sober up and get ready.”

“Fuck sober.”

“Then at least have the decency to sit your arse down and think about the fact that Brie just travelled thousands of miles to see you, and you haven’t even acknowledged her.”

“I’m sorry, did I forget to roll out the fucking welcome mat for you, princess?”

Brie’s shoulders sag, and I both love and hate that it’s so easy to hurt her with careless words. “Levi—”

“What exactly are you doing here, Brie?” I swig from the bottle in my hand and frown when I find it empty. “Did you burn through your two-hundred-thousand-dollar pay cheque already? You need to come running all the way to Australia to ask Daddy for more money? Get on your knees, little girl, and we’ll work something out.”

“You arrogant arse!” She closes her eyes against her tears, but she won’t let them trail down her cheeks. She’s far too proud for that. I feel like shit. I want to touch her, pull her into my arms, fuck her, but I can’t. I glance at Ali, who’s busy looking around my apartment. It occurs to me that with everything this woman and I shared, she’s never seen the inside of my home. “I came here because I made a mistake ... I love you, Levi.”

I scoff and throw my arms wide with a bitter smile. “Then where the hell you been, Brie?”

“I came as soon as Ali called me. I’m sorry about your friend. I’m sorry I pushed you away. My mother was heartbroken after my father’s death, and I couldn’t leave her.”

“But not you, right?” I walk over to the coffee table and snag a half-finished bottle of Johnnie Walker XR. Then I plant my naked arse on the couch and glare up at her. “You weren’t heartbroken.”

“Mon Dieu!” And that does it, my Angry French Girl is back with a vengeance. “Would you just listen for once? I love you, idiot! I’m here because of you. Because I couldn’t live without you.”

“Jesus fuck!” I laugh and tilt my head up to the ceiling, praying for answers, or a fucking bullet. “Why do I let you women do this shit to me?”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Ali says. I turn my head to look at her. I forgot she was even here. “Brie, call me if you need me.”

Angry French Girl nods. “Merci.”

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