Kent
A sharp buzzing sound reverberates in my ear, and I grab a cushion from the floor, covering my head to block out the noise. My phone vibrates on the coffee table, shuddering along the glass with each successive ring, while the buzzing sound grows louder, drilling painful holes in my skull.
“Fuck off!” I yell, burying my face in the couch while holding the cushion tight over my head in the hope the noise will disappear.
But it doesn’t, and it’s like the two sounds are in sync, buzzing and vibrating in an annoying rhythm that has me throwing my cell across the room in a rage.
Two seconds later, a massive thud has me bolting from the couch in fright. Swaying on my feet, I turn around, my eyes popping wide when I spot the open front door, hanging off one of the hinges. A huge chunk is missing from the other side of the door frame, and the chain is broken in half, scattered across the floor. “What the actual fuck?” I stare at Keanu and Keven as they enter the apartment, making a beeline for me.
“Jesus Christ, Kent.” Keanu’s gaze rakes me from head to toe, his nose scrunching in distaste, while Kev looks around the messy living room with a neutral expression.
“You stink to the high heavens,” Keven says, holding his cell to his ear. “Hey, Eugene. It’s Keven Kennedy. I need a favor.”
I tune my older brother out, still staring at the door in shock. “I can’t believe you kicked the fucking door in.”
“What the hell do you expect, Kent?” Keanu plows his hands through his hair, and judging from the way it’s sticking up in all directions I’d say he’s been doing that for a while. “You don’t show up for class, you chained the fucking door from the inside on purpose so we couldn’t get in. And you haven’t answered your phone to anyone in days.” Tears prick his eyes as he clasps my shoulders. “We didn’t know if you were even alive.”
I scoff, pushing his hands off. “Don’t be so melodramatic. As if I’d off myself because of that slut.”
A scowl paints his face, and I know what he’s thinking.
“Whitney!” I yell. “I meant Whitney. I might be fucking fuming at Presley for dumping me, but I’d never call her a slut.”
I’ve called her plenty of other unmentionables while I’ve locked myself away in my apartment with copious bottles of JD and a variety of narcotics for company, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Get your smelly ass in the shower,” Kev says, shoving me toward the stairs.
“Fuck you.” I swing back around, almost tripping over the trash underfoot, grabbing the half-empty bottle of whiskey off the floor and plonking my smelly ass back on the couch. “This is my place, and you don’t get to boss me around.”
Kev smirks, crossing his arms as he levels me with a smug look. “Fine. Ignore us. We’re the only people standing between you and Mom and Dad.” He jerks his head at Keanu. “Come on. Let the rents deal with his sorry ass.”
I huff out an exasperated sigh. “Motherfucking assholes.” I take a healthy glug of whiskey, relishing the burn as it glides down my throat. I stagger to my feet, and the room spins, along with my empty stomach. “Keep your pants on. I’ll get in the shower.” I’d rather face Kev and Keanu over Mom and Dad any day.
If Mom sees the state of me and this place, she’ll whisk me back to Wellesley and put me under house arrest until I’ve gone cold turkey and come to my senses. The very last thing I want or need is a clear head because then I’ll have to think about all the shit in my life.
Like the fact Whitney has been blowing up my phone every hour of every day, leaving tearful, whiny, pleading messages interspersed with hateful, angry tirades about how she loathes my guts and she’s going to fucking ruin my relationship.
News flash, slut: You already did. You stupid cunt.
I might’ve actually texted that to her. Or perhaps I imagined it. I don’t really give a fuck either way.
“Go, Kent.” Keanu pries the bottle from my fingers, forcing me upstairs. “And shave while you’re at it. You look like Bear Grylls after a three-week expedition in the wild.”
Slight exaggeration, but whatever.
When I return after a long soak in the tub and a quick tidying of my stubble, I discover my brothers have been busy cleaning up the place. Some old dude with a beer gut is fixing the front door and replacing the chain. Selena is in front of the stove, cooking something. My stomach growls loudly as tempting smells waft through the apartment, reminding me it’s been a while since I ate anything substantial.
Selena glances over her shoulder, as I pad toward her, inspecting my face with blatant concern.
“Hey, Sel.” I bend down, kissing her cheek. “What’s cooking?”
“Keats’ chicken parmigiana. I made salad too.”
And, she just had to mention my estranged brother, but I smother my scowl of annoyance because this is Selena and I’m incapable of being mean to this girl. “I’m starving.” I rub a hand across my flat stomach. “When will it be ready?”
“Twenty minutes.” Putting a lid on the pot, she turns around, gently wrapping her arms around me. A lump the size of a bus wedges in my throat.
Hugging others doesn’t come naturally to my sister-in-law because of her past experiences, so to be on the receiving end of one makes me feel special. Keanu watches as he wipes down the table, and I know if I make one wrong move with his wife he’ll tear me a new asshole.
