Exposed King (Boys of Brisley 2)

Chapter Thirteen:

Backhanded Compliments

I spent the next twoweeks smiling so much my cheeks hurt. Mia Camilla Perez still had me on my toes – she was still making me chase her and hadn’t given me so much as a kiss on the cheek since I’d had her against the wall in the corner of the diner, but I liked it better like that. For once, I was resting soundly in the belief that if she ever did let me in, it would be because she wanted to, and not because she was trying to trick me. That path for her would’ve made no sense so I was content – good with showing up every day hoping she’d be there and soaking up her warmth whenever she’d let me.

It was fun. Easy.

Much easier than the rest of my life, anyway. Getting contractors out in their busy season was a nightmare and spending every single night in an empty house wasn’t much better, but at least I was finally making headway somewhere. That progress, though, was halted when someone rang my doorbell.

I opened it without looking and instantly regretted it. “Angel,” I said a little coldly. “Did you forget something you needed? You could’ve called first; I’d have had it ready for you.”

“Yeah, I did but it’s something you can’t really get ready for me unless I’m facing you like a man. I want my best friend back, Ollie. Knowing you’re in town brings up so many memories. I fucked up, I know I did and you didn’t deserve that but you were gone all the time and it just happened. I didn’t mean for it to.”

I tried to shut the door in his face, but the asshole had the audacity to block it. “You seriously just tried to blame me for it, you know that, right? That’s the kinda bullshit, roundabout reasoning that narcissists spout when they’re trying to gaslight someone. So you can either try again and be a little more honest this time, or you can get the fuck off my porch. Your choice, Angel.”

“Really, Ollie? It’s like that? I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Are you? Because that’s not what you said. You admitted you fucked up but made it seem like it wouldn’t have happened if I had been around more,” I countered. “I didn’t hear you say you were sorry at all there.”

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I thought I said it, because I mean it.” He looked tired, like he knew he was saying all the wrong things and still wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry, Ollie.”

I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t, not after years of silence that he was only breaking because I was in Domingo again. “Okay, then. Thanks for stopping by.” I tried again to close the door, and this time he let me. He knew better than to push right then because I was seconds away from punching him in the face, but part of me hoped he’d knock again and give me a damned reason.

My fists were still clenched at my sides a half an hour later when Destiny called me. I ignored her twice, flipping my phone the bird when her contact picture took up my screen, but I was irritated enough to answer by the third call.

“Yes, Destiny?”

“Am I hearing him right? He apologized to you and you slammed the door in his face?” she yelled. “Now he’s moping around my house again and drinking all because you can’t get your head out of your ass!”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “I’m not responsible for his bad decision-making any more than he’s responsible for mine, Destiny. I do not want to be his friend. I do not want to be your friend. I came here to sell the house and that’s it, okay? I wasn’t trying to make waves or piss anybody off or make amends anywhere. I was just trying to sell the house.”

She laughed bitterly – a sound I knew well – then lit into me like I was a child. Most of what she said was in Spanish, but it would’ve been hurtful in any language. She reminded me that I was afraid of conflict, afraid of my own feelings, and afraid to face anything that might be mildly uncomfortable. A defiant, defensive part of me wanted to argue with her, to tell her she didn’t know shit about me anymore, that I’d been going to Gam-Anon, and even though I wasn’t following the program, it was helping. That I’d gone with Sterling and my father back to the house where my mother had died suddenly. That I was stronger now, I was setting aside my unfair fears about dating and really trying to get to know someone in a profession I wouldn’t have looked twice at two years ago. I had my argument, my grand defense all planned out and ready to go ... and then she said something that stopped me dead.

“You never even asked what our kids’ names were, did you? He named our little boy after you, Oliver.”

I wished I was the type of person who could take that as a compliment, as the peace offering it was probably meant to be. But I wasn’t. I hung up on her, threw my phone against the wall and screamed – I screamed until I was out of breath, on my knees, slamming my fists against the torn-up carpet in the living room. I screamed until I was weak, exhausted, and ready to fall asleep right there on the floor, and then I cried.

Angel got everything I’d ever wanted and stole it all right out from underneath me, then named his son after me to remember it for the rest of his life. To make sure I remembered it for the rest of my life, and I probably would.

It wasn’t about Destiny or the firm he’d started down here and ran by himself. It wasn’t even about the kids, or the fact that he used to be my best friend. They were symptoms of a larger problem, and that problem was me – not anyone else. It didn’t matter how hard I tried or how far I came, my past would always catch up to me. It would always repeat, and it would always drag me back down.

Unbidden, that casino came to mind. If I was truly never going to get any better, what was the point? I still had more money than I’d ever know what to do with, so why not? Why not go gamble some of it away, get a little hit of that dopamine that seemed to be in short supply?

I could feel that desire, that itch growing. It consumed me until I was on my feet and changing my clothes, getting my wallet and driving to the ATM to pull more cash out. It had me in a chokehold until I was tipping the valet who was going to park my car. It had me so completely that I had my hand on the door of that brightly-colored, smoke-filled casino, and then I seemed to wake up again.

No. They don’t win. They don’t get to be right. The wisdom to know the difference, right? I can’t stop things and people from my past from coming back. But I can stop myself from ruining my present and fucking my future. Yeah. The wisdom to know the difference.

I dug my nails into my palms as I sprinted back toward the valet, then tipped him twice as much as I had the first time as an apology for making him go get my car again. While I waited, I found the hotline for Gam-Anon in my area and dialed – I just needed a meeting location and someone to talk to me until I got there, and I didn’t want to burden Sterling or Zeppelin with this. I didn’t want them knowing how close I came to slipping again, and I just ... had no one else. It was too late at night for Mia to be working and I knew she wouldn’t want me unloading my baggage on her anyway, and the only other friends I had were gamblers.

No, this time, Lola from the hotline would be the one I dumped my shit on, which only proved one thing to me – it was time I finally found a sponsor.