●Gem●
The following afternoon came quietly.
After yet another busy night of having to drug some old douchebag, we finally got back to the house and slept through most of the day, only waking up around noon. My body felt heavy in that familiar way, the kind that came from too much noise and not enough rest.
Jade offered to do the dishes while I made food. Even as I focused on chopping and stirring, my mind drifted back to the client from the night before. He had said he would come again tonight. He never did. Instead, I ended up with someone else, someone whose touch made my skin crawl, someone I had to knock out just to get through the job.
I turned slightly toward Jade.
She was in her own world, belting out an eighties song at the top of her lungs, using a spoon as a microphone. Her head twisted dramatically with every note, the curls of her black hair bouncing around her face like she was on some imaginary stage.
Once we were done, I served the food into two bowls and handed one to her before sitting beside her on the couch. She flipped back to her reality show without missing a beat. I had never been big on TV, but living with Jade had turned me into a low-key addict. Mostly old nineties sitcoms. They were stupid and funny and easy to watch.
"Oh god, this is delicious," she moaned, taking a spoonful of creamy mac and cheese.
I grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels, not really paying attention, until a familiar face made me stop.
Jennifer Harris.
My ex's mother.
I had never met her in person. Kyle and I never got that serious before everything fell apart, but I knew her face well enough. She was everywhere. Charity boards, elite circles, glossy magazines. Now she stood on a stage, dressed elegantly, hosting what looked like a high-profile charity event.
A well-polished entertainment host spoke over the footage.
"Last night's Harris Foundation Gala was nothing short of spectacular," the woman said brightly. "The event raised over fifty million dollars for children's outreach programs and community development."
Images flashed across the screen. Crystal chandeliers. Guests in designer suits and gowns.
"We saw attendance from some of the most influential names in the country," the host continued. "Including socialite and model Kelly Wilson, who stunned guests with her presence."
The camera cut to a blonde woman laughing, champagne in hand.
"And right beside her," the host went on, "was the Harris family's youngest son, Carlton Harris, recently returned to the country after years abroad."
The image froze on him.
Carlton Harris stood next to Kelly, tall and dark, his expression unreadable even as cameras surrounded him. He looked nothing like the smiling men I was used to seeing on screens. There was something closed off about him, something sharp in the way he carried himself.
My fingers tightened slightly around the remote.
Jade glanced over. "Huh. Rich people really live in another world."
I kept my eyes on the screen, my thoughts drifting while everything started clicking into place.
The guy from the other night was my ex's brother.
When Kyle and I were together, he barely mentioned him. Maybe once or twice in passing. I had never seen a photo. Never cared enough to ask. Now there he was, standing under flashing cameras like he owned the air around him.
"This girl is obviously so desperate for attention," Jade muttered, rolling her eyes.
My focus snapped back to the present. The blonde girl on screen was practically all over Carlton, smiling up at him while he looked like he would rather be anywhere else.
"I get that the guy is hot," Jade continued, "but this attention-seeking behaviour is such a pain in the ass."
"God, this is cringe," I muttered as Kelly leaned in again, forcing a hug. Carlton barely touched her before stepping back like even that much contact was unnecessary.
"I know right. If I ever try to force contact with anyone like this just kill me," Jade sighed.
"I'll do it myself," I replied dryly.
When the show cut into a halftime break, Jade jumped up to grab her phone from the bedroom while I carried our plates to the kitchen. The water ran as I rinsed them, my mind drifting somewhere I had not allowed it to go in a long time.
Kyle.
It had been so long since I even thought about him. After the breakup and getting kicked out of my own home, I trained myself not to revisit any of it. It was easier that way. Now the memories surfaced without permission. The ache that once came with them was gone. All that was left was emptiness.
"Cathy, you are not going to believe this!"
Jade's excited voice snapped me back. I turned toward her. "What is it. Did Harry die?"
I focused back on the plate in my hands, drying it before placing it on the rack.
"Maybe close to that. Archie says he won't be around for the whole of next month. Says he heard it from Marie."
"That's definitely good news," I said with a relieved laugh. At least I would not have to worry about him confronting me about the Tony situation. He had not shown up at the club since that night. I hoped it stayed that way. And Marie. I would definately give her the time of her life while Harry was away.
"It sure is. I can actually look forward to going to work now that he won't be around. I just hope his car crashes and he dies," Jade said with a whistle as she walked back to the living room.
We had a few hours before work, so we went back to watching TV. My phone buzzed against my thigh.
It was a text from an unknown number.
Are you busy?
I stared at it. I rarely responded to new numbers. I was about to ignore it when another message came in.
For someone who tried to drug me, you have some nerve to ignore me.
Oh fuck.
It was him. Where the hell did he even get my number?
"Yeah, I'm busy, " I finally typed back, ignoring the second message completely.
The reply came almost instantly.
I want us to go out tonight.
Did I not just say I was busy.
It was not even like I had control over my own schedule. Harry being away did not suddenly mean freedom. He had this invisible leash on us and one wrong move from us, he would choke us. He would so easily tear us apart if we even tried to miss a day of work.
My fingers hovered over the screen.