Truth Forever 19

Truth Forever 19
Truth

I shot a glance towards my brother as we both rested on our bikes outside the apartment, Cali shared with her roommate.

Ruin had run some checks. She lived with a woman called Layla. A friend from university. No criminal record. Not that really mattered to me. I wasn’t that much of a hypocrite. But I had wanted some checks done on her. Boyfriends and such. 

Mainly I just wanted to know what kind of men were about Cali. 

Jealousy?

Most definitely.

He raised his chin. “That her?”

I glanced down at the information Ruin had sent over. Namely, the make and model of the car, the roommate drove. “Yeah.” Slowly I moved away from my bike, standing in the middle of the pavement. 

I knew the moment Layla saw me. Her eyes flicked for a second between Wicked and me as he stood next to the bikes and widened into saucers. Our eyes met as her shoulders straightened. 

I knew that look she was gearing herself up for battle. And I was the enemy. 

“Can I help you?” Her voice was clear as she slipped from the car. Hands on her hips. She had the same kind of confidence as Cali had. Like she was totally sure of herself and her abilities. It made me wonder what she did as a job. Ruin hadn’t sent me that information. Whatever it was, she was totally professional. And she demanded respect. 

My eyes scooted downwards. She demanded attention even in her oversized T-shirt, grey leggings and white fluffy slippers. It made me smile. No wonder she and Cali were friends. They were like the same person.

It felt strange though that she had gone out in public in what was obviously her lounging around the house Saturday clothes.

It must have been important.

“We are looking for Cali?” Wicked spoke when he realised I wasn’t going to. 

Layla’s eyes blazed. “Which one of you is Truth?” She glanced between us. It wasn’t a friendly look in her eyes.

It kind of made me respect her. 

“That would be me,” I spoke softly, but the words had barely left my mouth when her open palm connected with my cheek. Rocking my head back. 

“Asshole.” She drew her hand back to stroke me again, and I caught her wrist easily before it could strike me a second time. “Easy girl… I’ll give you the first one, but you are on thin ice.” My words would have scared any other person, but they just seemed to add a fresh spark of anger to her eyes. 

“What are you going to do? Pull a gun on me?” Layla sneered. Her words hit me like a gut punch. My fingers loosened around her wrist, dropping it as I stepped backwards.

My reaction was physical. It had been a low blow but not unwarranted.  “She told you about that?” 

“Was she meant to hide it? The girl has had nightmares since she got back.” Her eyes found mine unflinching. 

Guilt ripped into me. “She had nightmares?” Behind me, my brother made a sound in the back of his throat. If I didn’t know better, I would say it was a disgusted sound. He wasn’t doing anything to make me feel better. 

“She should probably go to therapy.” She added. Jesus, this woman was unrelenting. Maybe she was a lawyer like Cali? It would make sense. Seeing how close she was with Cali.  

“He feels like shit love,” my brother finally spoke. “You can’t make him feel worse.”

Her head turned to him, her eyes appraising him. There wasn’t the usual look of interest that women usually got when they looked at him. Her lips actually curled. “Good, He should feel guilty. Cali is a good woman. Too good for you.” She dug out her keys from her pocket. “Now if you will excuse me, gentleman.” The look she gave me spoke volumes. She was using the term gentleman loosely. 

“I would like to see her.” 

She froze her back to me. And a slight shiver went through her shoulders. “She isn’t here.”

“You haven’t even gone inside.”

Why was she grandstanding? It didn’t make any sense. I got that she was angry on her friend’s behalf. But she had kept us here talking for a long time. She hadn’t said straight away that Cali wasn’t here. 

“She isn’t here.” She repeated herself. 

“I saw her only a few hours ago. Where is she?”

She turned to me then. “She’s … at friends. She wanted to get away and clear her head for a while.”

“A male friend?” I couldn’t help it, my voice shook. Had Cali left me in that police station and gone straight to another man’s bed? I had no right to be jealous. I knew that. Didn’t make hearing it any easier.

“She’s not at any friends,” Wicked swore, and both of us turned to him. He was peering into Layla’s car. “You drop anyone at the airport recently Layla?” He turned the full weight of his stare on her and for the first time she paled. 

“You took Cali to the airport?” I whispered it. Had I hurt her so badly that she felt she had to leave the country? 

Had I done that?

“Where is she going?”

“I don’t know, and that’s the truth.” She glared at me. “But she will be miles away from here by now. Leave her alone. Let her get on with her life.”

“I can’t.” I shook my head. Outwardly I was calm, just like always but inside I was boiling. If she had got on a plane, I might not ever get the chance to see her again. I might not get the opportunity to tell her how sorry I was. “Not until I’ve made this right.”



“Are you good?” 

I turned to my brother. My hand curled around the beer bottle and thought about how to actually answer his question. It wasn’t a straightforward question. 

Was I ok? No.

Would I be ok? Also no.

But would I hide the pain deep down inside of me and lock it away? Most definitely. Getting on with it was what I was good at. 

“Stupid question, huh?”

“Yeah.” I ground out the word between clenched teeth. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to get steaming drunk and forget, at least for a few hours that I had fucked up so badly that the woman I loved would rather leave the country than talk to me. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Bull shit.” Wicked rolled his eyes. “I never took you for a fucking loser.”

Wicked words startled me, and I turned on the stool towards him. The beer bottle was forgotten in my hand. “What’s shit? And who the hell are you calling a loser?”

His brow creased. “You. I am calling you a loser brother.”

I ripped my bottle in salute. I wasn’t going to argue with him. However, I wasn’t above starting an argument with someone. My eyes drifted around the empty bar.

Violence would make me feel better. 

It always did.

“You are just going to let her get away?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Of course not,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Of course you don’t have a choice. Because you can’t try, can you? You can’t at least try and get her to give you another chance.” 

“She’s gone.” I sipped at the beer in my hand.

“She isn’t fucking dead Truth. She’s hurting. You’re a mess. And neither of you is willing to try and heal yourselves.”

“I don’t know where she is.”

“And you couldn’t find out? You couldn’t call her? Like I said, you are a fucking loser.” He finished the drink in his hands with a slurp. “You good to go?”

“Go?”

He nodded. “Yeah Fender wants us on a job.”

My ears peeled upwards. A job sounded good. A job would mean danger and possibly violence. Both of which would help take my mind off of Cali. Because my brother had a point, I was a loser. I had Cali’s number, and I had always had it. I had just been too busy wallowing in my own self misery to pick up the damn phone and make that call. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” I cracked my back loudly. “What’s the job?”

Wicked’s eyes creased. “Gotta pick Chelsea up from her mothers.”

I groaned. Dealing with an Eighteen year old princess and her tantrums was not my idea of a good time.  Still, it was dangerous. Chelsea had a habit of driving everyone crazy.