Dante
I entered the rehab’s dining hall with one massive motherfucking headache, and for once I couldn’t blame it on booze, because I hadn’t touched a drop since the intervention. But Jesus did I want to. I wanted to chug an entire bottle of Jack, feeling the liquid ecstasy burn a path down my throat. But I couldn’t. I needed to stay sober to keep my record deal, something I wanted more than anything. That deal could pull my family out of the shit they’d mired themselves in for so long, giving them the life they deserved, especially my older brother. Ash needed it more than anyone, even more so now. He’d quit the drug trade and sold his house, moving to Howick to make his partner happy, a suburb they couldn’t afford to live in. Because of it, he was doing back-breaking labour jobs, his partner’s measly teacher’s salary not even a drop in their mortgage. I’d stopped in to see him before going to rehab and he’d looked utterly exhausted. If his partner hadn’t already left for work, I would’ve ripped into her, giving Tiana an earful.
Still trying to ignore the urge to hightail it to a liquor store, I headed for the breakfast bar. I was going to down a plate of bacon, eggs, mushrooms, and fried tomatoes instead of what I really wanted. It wasn’t my usual fare, but at least the indulgence would stop me thinking about whiskey.
For the moment.
Because I knew sobriety wasn’t going to be easy, especially since I’d starting drinking hard liquor at the age of thirteen.
As I continued towards the breakfast bar, I noticed the other patients watching me, one of them openly staring. The chick was full-on eye-fucking me, appearing more interested in swallowing down my sausage than the one on her plate. She smiled when she noticed me looking. I lifted my chin in a friendly hello and grabbed a plate, the food here pretty damn fine. My manager had obviously paid a shitload to get me into this rehab, because everything about it looked expensive. From the high, vaulted ceilings to the polished floors, as well as the mouth-watering food laid out before me. I guessed they didn’t have people with food addictions in this place, because they would come just looking at the spread.
I grabbed some bread and popped it into the toaster oven, glancing to my left as the eye-fucking chick sidled up next to me.
“What’s your name?” she asked, her pickup skills sorely lacking. No, Hi, how are ya? Haven’t seen you around here before. My name is blah, blah, blah... Nope, all I got was a blunt What’s your name? She might as well have just asked for my dick size, because that was what she really wanted, the chick as subtle as a hooker soliciting a john. Though, I supposed she didn’t really need to have smooth pickup lines with her looks. She kind of reminded me of Linda Carter, just younger and with a fuck-me look that would make any guy drop their pants ... except for me. I’d had more than my share of chicks like her, I didn’t need to add another name to my list. My mates reckoned I was a sex addict. They were wrong, because if I was one, I’d be taking her back to my room and fucking her on every surface. But all I wanted to do right now was eat ... and drink a bottle of Jack Daniels, which I found much more enticing than her curvy figure.
She licked her porn star lips. “What’s your name?” she repeated as though I hadn’t heard her the first time. She obviously wasn’t used to men ignoring her.
My pieces of toast dropped onto the bottom tray of the toaster oven. I grabbed them, muttering, “Dante,” as I moved over to the scrambled eggs.
She followed me. “Mmm, I love that name,” she purred. “It’ll sound so good when I shout it out while you fuck me.”
I ignored her, instead scooping a load of scrambled eggs on top of my toast.
“Cat got your tongue?” she asked.
“What you said doesn’t warrant a reply, Linda,” I answered, moving onto the fried tomatoes.
She continued to shadow me, not getting the giant hint to fuck off. “My name’s not Linda, it’s Candace, but you can call me Candy.”
With the fried tomatoes now on my plate, I went for the mushrooms.
“What are you in for?” she asked.
I scooped up a spoonful of mushrooms. “You make it sound like I’m in prison.”
“We can leave whenever we want, so not a prison.”
“I can’t,” I said, bacon next on my list.
“Why? What did you do?”
“Too many chicks while under the influence of whatever I could get my hands on, booze preferably.”
She laughed. “I was hoping you were a sex addict.”
My eyes snapped to hers. “Why, cos I look like a ho?”
Her perfectly plucked eyebrows shot up. “No, but it looks like I hit on a nerve. Are you one?”
“No!”
I snatched up a fork and knife and headed for a table, stiffening as she sat down next to me. “Can’t I eat in peace?”
“Not with the way you look, and why are you so angry? I’m just being friendly.”
I scooped a forkful of egg and stuffed it into my mouth, before I replied with something nasty. Usually I was fine with chicks hitting on me, the attention rolling off my back like water off a duck, but I was dying for booze, not unwanted attention.
She smiled. “You don’t look like a ho; you look like someone a ho would pay for. You’re one gorgeous man. My guess is women throw themselves at you and you can’t help but dip your,” she wet her lips, “wick in.”
I swallowed down the egg and sneered at her. “So, are you one of those hoes who’d pay for me?”
She snorted out a laugh. “You’re a rude one, aren’t you?” Her eyes went to the Māori tattoo around my left eye. “Are you in a gang?”
“Not anymore,” I muttered. There hadn’t been much incentive to hang out at the Skins’ headquarters after my best mate and half the gang had been hauled off to prison, their chop shop landing them behind bars.
“How’d you get out?” she asked.
“I stopped goin’ to the club.”
Her eyebrows shot up again. “They let you leave without a fight?”
“They’re not the type of gang to force people to stay. We can come and go as we please.”
“Sounds like a gang I’d like, unlike my last one. They were really controlling, even killed one member when he tried to leave. The only reason I got out was because another club destroyed them. Have you heard of the Devil’s Crew?”
A sneer instantly pulled at my lips, making her jerk her head back.
“Guess that’s a resounding yes,” she said.
“You got that fuckin’ right,” I growled, pointing my fork at her. “They murdered my best mate’s dad, so don’t you ever say their fuckin’ name around me again.”
“Guess that clears up what gang you were in. The Skins.”
I dropped my fork and pulled up the sleeve of my shirt, the name SKINS weaved into the colourful tattoos covering my arm. “You got that right as well.” I let go of my sleeve and pushed to my feet, wanting some black coffee to wash down the eggs.
Candy got up and followed me.
Having had enough, I turned to her, now understanding why my older brother got pissed off when birds followed him around. “I ain’t interested in fucking you. I’m here to get clean, not to hook up.”
She stepped closer, a smile playing on those porn star lips of hers. “You sure about that?” she said, placing a hand on my chest.
I went to push her hand off, stopping as a flash of pink caught my eye. I looked over at the door, seeing Mrs. Hatton... No, her name was Miss Hughes, my old English teacher now divorced. Well, she wasn’t exactly old. Even though she had to be in her early thirties, most of the time she looked closer to my age—twenty-four. Her funky pink hair and tight li’l bod gave her a youthful appearance, along with her smooth, pale complexion.
Her eyes moved to my chest, alerting me to the fact that Candy’s hand was still on it. I quickly stepped back, feeling like I’d done something wrong, though fuck knows why. Maybe it was the teacher thing, the bird having the disapproving look down pat. But I was an adult now, not fourteen... No, I’d been fifteen when we’d had the affair. It had happened in 2002, the year I’d been in a bad car accident. The crash had put me in a coma for months, as well as stealing a chunk of my memory, which was why I couldn’t remember jack shit about her. Instead, my best mate had filled me in on what went down. Jasper had said that the affair with Miss Hughes had been short and sweet, ending when she’d moved to Australia.
I continued to stare at her, something at the back of my mind telling me that it was more than what Jasper had told me. Regardless, Miss Hughes turned and walked out of the dining room, leaving me feeling empty and confused, something about her putting me on edge.
A hand clasped onto my chin, Candy pulling my face around.
I jerked free from her grip. “Keep your hands to yourself!”
She let out a little laugh of disbelief as though I couldn’t possibly be turning her down. I knew her type, had fucked enough gorgeous chicks to get sick of their entitled behaviour. I wasn’t here for her or anyone else’s entertainment. I was here for me and my family.
I turned to leave. She started following me. I turned back and breathed on her face. “Sniff it in, love, cos you ain’t gonna get my mouth on your cunt. Ever.” I flicked my tongue out. “I fuck who I want and you’re not it.”
Her face dropped, shock, then anger quickly replacing it. She went to open her mouth, but I was already walking away, my mind on my old teacher, not some skank who couldn’t take no for an answer. I wanted to reassure Miss Hughes I wasn’t going to cause any issues with her job, because that had to be what was making her antsy around me. I was obviously a skeleton in her closet that she was desperate to keep hidden from her employer. Though, she had nothing to worry about from me. I would never dob her in, and it wasn’t as if I could remember what had happened anyway.
I exited the dining hall and took a sharp left, aiming for the reception area, hoping she had gone that way. A blond man in his mid to late twenties shot around the corner, banging into me, knocking me back a step. The folders he’d been holding fell to the floor. He dropped to his knees to pick them up, along with the papers that had gotten free.
I squatted down to help him, handing over what I had. “You all right, mate?” I asked, the guy visibly shaken.
“No,” he replied, then he was up and gone, whatever had upset him clearly having nothing to do with me. Shrugging it off, I continued down the corridor, still intent on finding Miss Hughes.