Page 18 of A Different Kind Of December
“She reckons that she had too much to drink on Saturday night and fell down some steps.” I watch as she rolls her lips together, her voice quieter, she adds, “We’ve been that drunk, George, we’ve bruised our knees and scraped our palms, but she didn’t have any of those things, just a cut over her eye and a broken wrist.”
I feel sick. My heart smacks against my chest like it’s trying to escape.
“Where is she now? What did Len say? You think he’s hitting her?”
She nods, and my blood feels like ice as it pumps through my veins. I can’t get my breath.
Domestic violence is not something I’ve ever experienced, and the thought of somebody deliberately hurting my niece—or any other member of my family—sends my head into a spin. My first thought is to react with violence. I want to hunt that fucker down and feed him his own bollocks until he chokes, fucking him up the arse with his own dick in the process.
“Oh my god, Jim, I don’t know what to say.”
“Len went out looking for him Sunday night, but apparently, he flew back to L.A. Sunday morning with the band. She’s still denying that he had anything to do with it and reckons that he wasn’t even there, but I went online and found pictures of them out together on Saturday night.”
Jimmie’s face crumbles, and I move around the breakfast bar to where my beautiful friend is falling apart and wrap her in my arms.
“She’s my little girl, George, the thought of someone hurting her, him especially. That fucking family have put us through enough.”
“I know, I know, Jim. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Can’t believe what’s happening?”
I turn my head to see Paige standing in the middle of the kitchen staring at us. She looks terrible. There’s a cut and a bruise over her left eye, a slight bruise on her right cheek, and her wrist is in a plastic cast. But it’s not just that; she’s so unbelievably thin. She’s always been thin, she’s a model for crying out loud, being thin goes with the territory, but she’s at least a stone lighter than when I saw her last, which was only about six weeks ago.
I watch as she slowly licks her lips and asks slowly, “What did you tell her?”
I pull away from Jimmie so that she can wipe her eyes on the cuff of her sweatshirt sleeves.
“She told me that she’s worried about you. How’d you cut your eye and break your wrist, Paige, and don’t even attempt to bullshit me.”
“None of your fucking business,” she snaps back at me. I’m shocked, but try not to show it.
We’ve always been close, and she’s never spoken to me like this before.
“You’re my niece, that’s my best friend, your dad’s my brother. I’m making it my fucking business.”
She flinches at the harshness of my tone, and alarm bells instantly start to ring. Paige has always been confident and feisty. The girl standing in front of me now appears to be anything but those things.
“I tripped up a couple of concrete steps when I came out of the club Saturday night. I put my hand out to stop my fall and landed awkwardly on my wrist, kept going forward and hit my face and brow. I was drunk, it was my own fault.”
I don’t believe a word she’s saying, but that’s probably because not only does this involve a member of my family, but also involves the son of Rocco Taylor and Haley White. As much as I’d like to consider myself a fair person and give RJ the benefit of the doubt, in reality, I don’t. In my head, I’m already on the phone to Cam, telling him to track RJ down—wherever he might be in the world—and deliver a message that he’s to stay the fuck away from my niece and every other member of my family.
With that message, I’d also like a little warning sent, a clue or a hint given as to what the consequences might be if he doesn’t comply. Just a small one . . . nothing that hurts too much.
“Sit down,” I order. “You want a tea or a coffee? You need to eat, too, you look like you’re about to snap.”
“Says my aunt who has less fat on her than a lettuce leaf.”
“Sit down and shut up before I slap your skinny arse,” I again order.
“I’ll make some eggs,” Jimmie says while moving towards the fridge.
“I’ll do it,” I suggest.
“No!” They actually both shout the word out at the same time. I hold my hands up in surrender.
“Okay, chill the fuck out. I’ll put the kettle on, is that all right?”
“Can you burn water?” Paige directs her question at Jimmie, and we all laugh.
