Chapter 90: Are you fucking him?

The second I get back home, I instantly know something is wrong. I can practically feel Natte’s tension radiating through the air as I push open the door.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” He’s on me the instant I’m through the door. “Don’t you answer your goddamn cell anymore?!”

I sigh inwardly. Here we go again.

“Hello to you too,” I bite.

“I’m not fuckin’ kidding, Shia.”

“Neither am I.” I give him a hard stare as I walk past him.

Getting my phone from my bag, I see I have ten missed calls and five voicemails.

“I was out having coffee with Steve,” I say putting my phone back in my bag and dropping it onto the table.

“I called him too and he didn’t answer, why not?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a mind reader. Maybe because he was out with me? Maybe because it’s his day off? Why don’t you ask him?”

I turn around to see Natte pacing the floor, anger clear on his face.

I don’t know what’s wrong with him right now, but it seems we are going to have to get past whatever this is before I can have the drugs talk with him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask, walking toward him, hands out.

I’m trying the soft, tactical approach; it’s the only way with him at the moment.

Natte can be irrational at times. Drug-taking Natte always irrational.

“This is what’s wrong.” He marches away from me, leaving me dead in my tracks, and goes over to the desk, grabs an envelope off it, and marches back, shoving it in my hand.

“What’s this?” I look down at it, confused.

“Open it the fuck up, and then you can answer me the very same question.”

I stare across at him puzzled, then back down at the envelope.

Okay, so whatever it is has got him majorly pissed off.

Apprehensively, I peel the seal back on the envelope, reach in, and put my fingers around what feels to be photos.

Yep, it’s photos.

Photos of me and Will from the café that last day I saw him.

One is of Will and me sitting across the table from one another, the next Will holding my hand across the table, and the last, a photo of Will and me hugging outside of the café.

I look up at Natte. “Where did you get these?”

“Are you fucking him?”

I feel like he’s just slapped me, can this old man be serious, or the drug he's taking has taken over all his reasoning, I'm I really that cheap in his eyes?

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.” He barks at me , brushing his hair, something he does wherever he's troubled.

“Believe what you want, it’s the truth.” I drop the photos onto the coffee table, along with the envelope. “Did you have me followed?”

“No. Do I need to?”

I glare at him.

“The press sent them,” he fires at me. “They’re running a story that you’re having an affair with him.”

I snort at the ridiculousness of it.

“You find something funny about this?” He stares at me with glassy eyes.

He’s high right now. And he’s also not amused.

Well guess what Natte, neither am I.

“I’d say so, yeah.” I drag my hands through my hair. “The press are about to accuse me of having an affair with Will, the man who was the one wronged because I had an affair with you and used his girlfriend to cover up. It’s beyond ludicrous! We can’t let this happen. We have to tell the press the truth and I need to call Will and warn him about this.”

I get my phone out of my bag ready to make the call, but Natte lunges forward and grabs it from my hand.

“You’re screwing around with him, and you’re going to call him here in front of me!” he yells.

“Jake, I’m not cheating on you with Will. Barring the fact that I would never do that to you, when exactly would I do so? I’m with you all the time. And I’m also here in London and Will is in Texas. Seriously, please just see sense here, and give me my phone back.” I hold my hand out to him.

“You’re not calling him, Shia.”

“Give. Me. My. Phone. Back.”

“No!” he yells, and throws my phone clear across the room and all I can do is watch as it smashes to pieces against the wall.

“Have you lost your mind?!” I cry, hand clutching my head. “Jesus Christ, Natte! Who is this version of you?! I feel like I don’t even know you anymore!”

I go over to where my broken phone lays, crouching down, I pick the pieces up and hold them together like I can somehow repair it.

Staying there for a few moments, I take some deep breaths before speaking again.

“Whatever issue you have with Will,” I state calmly standing, putting down the remnants of my shattered phone onto the table, “He’s done nothing wrong and it’s only fair to warn him if he’s about to get screwed over in the press. He’s got a career to think about. Surely you can understand that.” I look at him , stating my words as clear as possible.

Natte stares at me for a long moment, his chest rising and falling heavily. “I’ll get my lawyers to bury the story.”

“You can do that?” I feel a huge sense of relief. I don’t want Will getting any more hurt than he has been, and if Natte can stop it then all the better.

“I can do anything I want.”

I hate it when he’s arrogant like this. It makes me want to hit him, but I can't I love him way to much for that. I can't even bring myself to tell him that he's already a Dad and that kid we met that day is his son. I just can't.