Taking a long inhale, I blow out slowly, smoke swirling around me. “Tru, babe, I see you. Answer me,” he’s slamming his hands on the side of the glass wall.
“You’re smoking. I see it,” he hollers, the bodyguard trying hard to get him to come away from the edge as he starts to lift his leg to climb over.
“Tru, I’m coming to see you.”
Again, he slurs and mumbles. I can’t help but smile and well laugh. This guy is nuts. “Tru, fuckkkkkkk”
Not giving him anything I stand up and lean my arms over my rail, lean my head over and drop my smoke to watch it fall.
“Why?” I call out over the road.
“Ahhh, I knew it. See, Mike, she’s real. See, she’s there.” I see him pointing toward me staggering and falling over, the glass panel smacking him in the face on the way down. You hear the thump and the arghhh strangled with pain as his bodyguard grabs the back of his hoodie and pulls him back up to his feet. His hands rubbing his cheek. “Fuck, that’s going to hurt in the morning,” he slurs out.
He’s cute, really. The way his hair falls over his face I can just picture the change in his eyes. Pain always changes the appearance of the eyes. They are a beautiful shade of green, that would be so vivid if they weren’t dulled by drugs. He is sexy as sin, but he’s trouble. A drunk and a druggie with more women and STD’s than I’m ready for. I already have eighty-nine problems and I have no room for him or his issues.
“Tru, I think I love you.”
Scoffing at that I pick up my drink and down the last of the sweet cider.
“No, you don’t. You love that you can’t have me,” my voice is dead and flat. He’s draining.
His gravelly but drunk tone bounces out over to me. “I knew you would crack,” he hollers, running his hand through his hair pulling it back from his face. “I haven’t cracked, James Dean,” I call out while stepping into my house grabbing the other bottle of cider. I also grab a fresh pack of smokes from the top of my fridge hidden inside the cookie monster cookie jar.
“I don’t catch feels, babe, I catch flights but fuck the minute I seen your bad ass soul I was done. You stole this rapper’s heart.”
Rolling my eyes at his statement because he’s drunk, wasted, and he’s higher than Snoop Dogg on a night out in Amsterdam.
“Well, boy, best you put it in reverse and catch a flight cause I’m not down to be fucked by a rap devil.” I hear him scoff at me; his bodyguard Mike pushes him back from the glass wall into the seat. He’s dangerously close to killing himself if he stands any longer.
“I have become so numb, Tru, over the years and you made me feel again. Come over here, let’s make love tonight.”
Snort, laugh, snort, laugh; I can’t help it. That’s the most fucking insane thing I have heard. Fucking funny yes. Fucking so not happening.
“You don’t make love, Jayden. You fuck,” I breathe out into the night as I watch him fade away in the arms of his bodyguard who is always there ready to pick him up as he falls. I walk backward from the scene in front of me falling down onto the couch away from the drama and the chaos that is unfolding in the penthouse suite of the Long White Cloud. Home to the savage Jayden James. But to me he’s just James Dean. Lost and alone.
Chapter Eight
Jayden
My head, fuck me, my head hurts. Why is the sun so loud today? Rolling over in bed, pulling the pillow over my head my whole body aches. I vaguely remember small things from last night. All that is really standing out at the forefront of my brain is smashing some cunt in the face for touching Tru. Fuck, Tru. Is she ok?
“Mike,” I scream whisper. My head’s killing me.
“Tru, is fine. She’s pissed, like fuming pissed at you. Orange juice and Panadol are on the bedside table and I have sent two dozen lilies and red roses over to Tru’s apartment. After last night it’s the least you can do.” Mike finishes walking into my room looking like he’s stepped out of a mafia movie and slept for a year. How the fuck does he do it. Falling back onto the bed, throwing my hand over my eyes, my mind walks over the images that I hold of her icy blue stare and the way her long, black hair moves with her body.
I must have fallen back to sleep because the sun is duller matching the much more mellow pain in my head. I see a small but fuming little lady standing at the edge of my bed with flowers covering her entire body.
“Good. The dick’s awake,” she spits at me as she hurls said flowers in my face.
“Think these will make up for the fact that you’re a C U Next Tuesday (C-U-N-T), Jayden.” Smirking as she can’t even say the word cunt. She spells it out. She’s fucking cute.
“This is not one bit funny you absolute moron!” ouch, her voice is so loud cutting through my sore brain. I close my eyes. Fuck me! What did I do?
“I love you, Tru. Wanna make love, Tru? I catch flights, not feels, Tru. I will smash a guy, break his nose and cheek bone. Oh, and fuckin’ eye socket. Then get my guys to clean the mess up. Tru, I want you, yet I bring ten slappers back home and hang off the deck screaming, well no scratch that, slurring devotion to me.”
She stops finally and takes a breath. Cracking one and only one eye open, that’s all I assume is safe right now, I look at her. Hot and flustered. Her hands on her hips, her hair’s in a messy bun and she’s wearing workout clothes. Tight tights that look like a second skin, an oversized cropped jumper that shows of her toned torso and fuck it, she has me licking my lips.
“You’re hot. You know that, right?” Raising my eyebrow at her as she steps closer to my bed.
