Page 82 of Closer

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

WAIT AND BLEED

LEVI

When I open my eyes, Brie stares down at me, a look of hatred and pure unadulterated disappointment on her pretty face. She’s so good at that, looking down her nose at me.

My head pounds as I roll over. My stomach lurches. I feel like shit.

“You need to shower and get ready. Ali said they were expecting us at the funeral home an hour before everyone else. To support the family.”

“We were his family. Ash’s parents didn’t give two shits about him because he didn’t want to be a mathematician like his dad, or a fucking teacher like his mum. He was a rock star, and they had no time for that. Much like your dad, I guess. Bet they would have gotten along famously.”

“You did not know my father, and you do not get to be an arse because you are in pain. We’re all in pain, Levi.”

“What the fuck do you know about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says in a smarmy tone of voice. For a beat, I entertain shoving my cock down her throat to shut her up, but I hurt all over, and I have no intention of moving from this couch. “Apparently, I felt absolutely nothing when my father died.”

“I forgot the two of you were so close. He fucking abused you. He beat your knuckles with a stick until you played faster.”

Those deep chocolate eyes fill with ire. “He was making me better.”

“No, that’s fucking child abuse.” I sit up, because I can’t fight with her lying down.It’s no fun that way. “You hit a kid over the knuckles until they bleed, that’s fucking jail time here in Australia.”

“I will not fight with you, not today. I am here to support you. I am here because I love you, but you do not get to be a prick. If you’re angry, good, use it later to write music that will make Ash weep from the heavens, but do not take it out on me. I am not your punching bag.”

“Ah, but that’s my gift, Brie.” I grab the bottle off the table and swig from it, wincing as it burns my gullet. “Using people. Using women until they are all used up.”

“Not me.”

“Not even if I beg?” I whisper and take another sip. It’s nearly empty and one long pull sees all the Jack in my bottle gone. When I raise my eyes to look at her, she’s livid.

“What is wrong with you?”

“I just told you, I’m an arsehole. It’s what we do.”

“Tu n'es qu'un lâche. Je ne te reconnais plus.” Brie stalks away into the bathroom and slams the door behind her.

“I told you I don’t speak French.” I shove my hand in my pocket and pull the little baggie I scored last night free. I flick it a few times, waiting for the dust to settle like sediment at the bottom of a river. Then I grab the silver tray and straw, and tap a little of coke onto the smooth surface, because I can’t deal with this shit right now.

I can’t deal with the fact that soon my best friend will be buried in the ground. No longer here, just a rotting corpse.Worm food. And all because of a fucking blood disease that should have been curable. I can’t do anything about Ash being dead, but I can get so goddamn wasted that I don’t have to deal with it today.

“Non. You think you can push me away because you are hurting, but ...” I feel her eyes on me as I pull the credit card from off the table and begin cutting the coke into a much finer powder, ordering it into straight little lines. “What are you doing?”

“Getting high.”

“An hour before your best friend’s funeral?”

“I already told you, I’m not going.”

“Levi—”

“Jesus fuck, Brie. Don’t you get it? I don’t want you here! France was great, babe. The fucking was spectacular. A-grade pussy, and boy, do you know how to use it. But you shouldn’t have come all this way, because we’re done. It’s done. It was a fucking fling.” My voice is choked with emotion as I say it.Too much emotion.And fuck me, my eyes are stinging, my throat hurts as I scream.

“You don’t mean that.” Her mascara is running now in thick black streaks down her face. “I can see you don’t mean it.”

“Sweetheart,” I falter over the word, but steel my voice, look her dead in the eye, and say, “I’ve never meant anything more.”

---