Incite (Sphere of Irony 1)

“Thank you so much,” I tell the driver as I get out at the University College Hospital where I work. I have to get my schedule for the next two weeks, so I had the driver drop me off here instead of at my flat.

My head aching and my body exhausted, I hurry inside and take the lift to my floor, grabbing a copy of the schedule out of the break room. I’m able to duck back out without any of my coworkers noticing me. I want to get home to think and I’m way too distracted to have any sort of social interaction right now.

My phone rings as I ride the tube home and my stomach jolts when I see that it’s James. I can’t duck another call from him, I have to answer.

“Hello?”

“Ellie? Where have you been all day? I stopped by your flat and you weren’t there? And you didn’t answer your phone.” He sounds worried and annoyed.

“Sorry, I went to the hospital to get my schedule and you know they have a no phone policy, so I turned it off and must have forgot to turn it back on.” The lie comes so easy to me that I feel like throwing up.

“Oh, okay. I was so worried about you.” Guilt pierces through me at his concern. “Can I come round tonight? We can get take-out.”

“I’m not feeling well, James. How about tomorrow?” I need more time to process my thoughts, to decide on my future.

“Are you still mad at me about last night? Because you’re right Ellie, it’s none of my business who you used to date. We’re not over, are we?”

So sweet and thoughtful, he really does deserve someone better than me.

“No, I’m not mad anymore, I promise. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay, love you El.”

“Me too,” I answer pathetically and hang up.

God, I am such a shitty person.

chapter 27

Adam

Dax and I are sitting in the back of the chauffeured car as we near our destination. I can’t sit still, drumming my fingers on my knee nervously.

“Stop it, you’re driving me mental.” Dax swats my hand away from my leg. “You and your damn twitching!”

“Hey! Watch it. You could break my fingers with those giant meat paws of yours. Then how would I play my guitar?”

The bastard actually fucking laughs. Like there’s anything even remotely funny about this. Our manager would have our bloody heads on a platter if he knew what we were doing. At least I thought to bring one of the larger security guys from the tour with us. Ronin Walsh is a giant, mean looking, Irish bloke with a shite temper. He’s bigger than Dax or his brothers, and that says a lot. His head almost hits the ceiling of the car where he sits in the passenger seat in front of us.

“He’d better be prepared to explain why Callum Murray was allowed to get anywhere near Ellie,” I mutter, clenching my fists in my lap.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been sending that knob head brother of yours money all these years. You had to know he’d just pocket the cash and do absolutely nothing to help you.” Dax looks at me like I’m the stupidest dimwit on Earth.

“Fuck off, Davies. He protected her while we were in school, didn’t he? How was I to know he’d stop? I figured if the money kept coming, he’d keep up his end.” Yeah, I’m that stupid.

The car comes to a stop in front of a Chinese restaurant in a so-so area of Northeast London.

“I guess I know where all of my money went,” I mutter under my breath, noticing the bright red, fancy German sports car parked out front.

“Fucking prick spent it on himself.” Dax shakes his head in disgust.

We climb out of the car, followed by Ronin, and walk up the path to the door. The hostess seems to have been expecting us. She gives us the ogling once-over before bringing us to a private room in the back.

“Danny’s waiting for you,” she says, indicating that we should go on in. She touches my arm and gives me a seductive pout. I scowl and shake off her hand. This isn’t the time or place for a come on, as if I’d ever even consider fucking anyone associated with my disgusting brother.

Dax snickers under his breath as we enter the room, Ronin right behind us. In front of us is my brother, sitting at the head of a large table like he’s some sort of Godfather, a spread of food covering most of the space. A ridiculously dressed thug is sitting next to him and is immediately told to move by my brother.

Danny smiles at us, a man who looks so much like me, yet not like me at all. We have the same dark hair, same hazel eyes, but Danny’s are hollow and lifeless, indicative of someone who has seen and done things that most people won’t. He’s much thinner than me, a sign of too little exercise and too many drugs. His skin is pasty and there are dark circles under his eyes. The red rims around his nostrils are like a neon sign pointing to his drug of choice.