The Revenge Games Duet

Desperate to find Flynn and beg him to fly home with me, I grab the note on the fridge with the address he posted. I decide against changing outfits, running out the door in a mad rush and driving in a manic state toward the venue.

Although the club is a few miles away, the traffic doesn’t let up at this hour. Red lights, rows and rows of vehicles, desperate to get somewhere and all just as impatient as me. The grueling pace gives me too much time to think. I don’t want to think.

My fingers fumble with the radio, twisting the volume to maximum and allowing the song to blast through the speakers. It’s some love song that irks me. I press another button, welcoming a rap song about fucking someone’s wife or bitch. I can’t quite figure it out.

The club is busy with a line of girls outside dressed in short skirts and hooker heels waiting while trying to flirt with the security guard.

I don’t hold back, demanding to get in because my brother is part of the band. After an hour of cross-checking, I may have just as well waited in the line.

I move quickly past security, cramming like a sardine amongst the crowd. I search the stage, seeing only the equipment and no Flynn. Bumping my way through the crowds, I finally see Flynn at the back. He’s talking to someone, and I yell, though pointless, through the loud noise. He hasn’t noticed me yet, and as I walk toward him, my frustration mounts with the tight crowds and hot air inside.

Moving in closer, Wesley appears beside him. Still dressed in his suit from tonight, he leans into Flynn whispering something into his ear. He extends his hand, Flynn shaking it until he pulls back. Flynn clutches his fist, dropping his gaze with a satisfied smile. My blood begins to spike, and with a brutal push against the people blocking my way, the adrenaline kickstarts—my heart hammering erratically.

“What did you give him?”

Wesley appears surprised to see me, his mouth falling open and more notably, his eyes are that familiar bloodshot red.

“Nothing, it’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Tell… me… what the fuck you gave him!” I’m reeling with anger, unable to disguise my raging tone.

My head darts back and forth between the two of them demanding an answer. When neither of them cooperate, my frustration drives me, yanking his hand toward me, opening it up to find a white pill buried in his palm.

“What is this?”

“Just leave him alone,” Flynn shrugs off. “It’s nothing bad.”

I seethe, gritting my teeth. “Then tell me what it is?”

“Just takes the edge off.”

“Takes the edge off… you gave my brother drugs? I can’t believe you would do this,” I yell through the noise, pointing my finger directly into Wesley’s face.

“I give you everything of me… everything, and this is what you do?” I question, ignoring the people who have stopped around us, watching with annoying curiosity.

“You give me nothing,” he shouts back. “I begged you to fix me. Begged for you to make it all go away. Everything I fucking did or do is for you. And all I ask in return was for you to fucking fix me.”

“How can I fix you when I have my own issues? You think I like seeing you hurt? Do you think I like living in pain? The world doesn’t revolve around Wesley Rich.”

His wicked laugh escapes his sardonic grin. Behind this beautiful man lay a corrupted soul. He wants me to fix him, yet he continues to play these heinous games and drag me along like I’m a pawn.

“That’s where you’re wrong, baby, the world does revolve around me. And the second you realize that, the happier our lives will be.”

I look at him with disgust, ignoring the hurt that stems from his selfish words. “Of course, it does. You don’t care that I’m hurting every day being away from my mother. You don’t care that I’ve been suffering panic attacks that almost cost me my life. And for the record, tonight, Carson tried to rape me. So excuse me, while I forget the world revolves around you.”

I watch the anger morphing, his teeth gritting and the thirst to punch the hell out of something. “You said what?”

“Apparently, I’m another one of your little sluts that he likes to fuck. This isn’t who I am. I will not be called a slut. I can’t do this anymore. And this time, I mean damn well it.”

“So, what are you going to do?” he shouts, with vengeance. “You fucking tell me you love me and what, walk?”

“Yes,” I say out loud, with my posture straight, clarity in my expression. “I walk. Back to my family, back to the people who love me for me. Back to a world that brings happiness, not fear.”

“You mean back to him.”

I lower my head, ignoring his insecure remarks. “Goodbye, Wesley. I do love you, but I guess it’s true. Sometimes… love simply isn’t enough.”

“You can’t just fucking leave me,” he pleads, pulling on my arm with desperation.