Of Blood and Smoke

Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

Della

Over the next couple weeks, I visited my dad as often as I could, bringing books to read to his unconscious body. He was now in a medically induced coma due to the combination of his strokes and diabetes. I was reassured that it was certainly possible he knew I was there although he was still unable to give any signal to make me believe it.

In just a few days, he was being moved permanently to a long-term facility, much to my relief. I only wished he’d been conscious of how far we’d come, with me having a good job and being able to take care of him the way I’d always wanted to.

After taxes, my first paycheck was still an amount of money I never thought I’d receive at one time and more than enough to help my father.

The upcoming funds would go to a moving company and a few other bills. The apartment I’d found was still small, since it was in Manhattan, but it was perfect and shortened my commute drastically. And bonus—Ashley would only be a few blocks away because she was moving, too.

A bang sounded against my apartment door, and I went to open it. Brett shoved his way in, his arms full of boxes. “You could’ve made more than one trip you know.” I watched as half the cardboard slid to the floor.

Brett kicked the packing material out of the way and shut the door. “I didn’t feel like it. Where do you want these?” he asked but started trucking them into the living room, placing them on end next to the couch.

“Right there is fine, thanks.”

He placed his hands on his hips. “So where do you want to start?”

“You don’t have to help, I got this. Ashley might come over later.”

Brett stalked forward and the cardboard pressed into the back of my legs. “Don’t think that just because you got this new job I’m going to go away,” he warned me.

“In three weeks, I’ll have the rest of the money and then I do expect you to go away.”

His lips lifted into a cruel smile. “No, no. That’s not how this works. You fucked up and I want you. You know this.” He lifted his knuckles to my face and dragged his hand down, slowly.

I used to be attracted to him but recently, his appeal had waned. He didn’t seem that bad most of the time, since we had fun together and we had a mutual friend group. It’d been all too easy to overlook the ugly and make excuses.

Yes, I owed him money and yes, he’d helped me out with my dad, but that didn’t give him the right to dictate my life.

A couple years ago, around the time when we’d first started hanging out, we were at a party together at one of his friend's houses. This friend had a lot of drugs in the house, and I'd accidentally set a bunch on fire, effectively destroying the product. I owed tens of thousands of dollars to Brett after he took the blame for my clumsiness.

The whole thing was stupid. We’d gone to the basement for a few moments alone together and decided to smoke a joint and I’d dropped it right after I lit the cigarette. It then landed on a table full of illicit products and flammable chemicals and the evening ended with a bunch of men coming in and extinguishing the flames.

The fire department was never called and apparently, I'd almost blown up the multi-million-dollar home—according to Brett. It was a miracle the whole place hadn’t burned down and there was no identifiable reason it hadn’t. I’d gotten lucky.

“Oh, I know. And I appreciate you helping me out and I fully intend to pay you back. It’s been a long time and I’m working on it.” I still felt guilty, even though he was being a manipulative jerk. “You know I care about you, but just not the way you want me to. You know this.”

Brett leaned forward, trapping me between his arms against the couch. “I don’t think I’m making myself clear. I hear what they’re saying about you, you showing off that hot little body for your boss. Do you have the slightest idea who he is?” I sucked in a breath.

“I know about the gifts, too,” he added, as if I was being brought diamonds rather than coffees.

He sneered at me. “Like you’d stand a chance with that man. You’re nowhere near his level, Miss Ex-Drug Addict.”

“Stop it!” I yelled at him. “No one’s saying anything about me, they shut down gossip right away. I don’t know where the coffee comes from.”

“You think you’re something now that you got this good job and all the attention. Don’t forget who saved your ass and paid your dad’s bills. You wouldn’t even have this new job if it wasn’t for me.”

Brett whirled around and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door, and leaving me alone with my thoughts. It was true. I didn’t know where I’d be if he hadn’t helped me out. Probably dead in a ditch, as my mother used to say.

Since Brett got angry and reneged on his promise to help me pack, I got started. My annoyance over Brett’s accusations lit a fire under me and I had no trouble throwing things into boxes.

He had some nerve saying I was showing off my body to my bosses. Actually , he said "boss.” Who was he talking about—Micha, or Josiah? Christina? Micha was friendly enough to me—if one could call him friendly. He mostly ignored me, but I felt his stare.

Josiah was always lurking around, watching and staring too. It felt like he was scrutinizing everything with suspicion, though you couldn’t tell for sure with his eyes covered.

Christina was antagonistic, at best.

Brett must’ve meant Micha and I had no aspirations toward him—or Josiah, and it bothered me that people were talking about me and assuming things. I made a mental note to ask Ashley about it, but I was positive she would’ve come to me if something was going on.

Granted, it was a bit different that my coffee order waited at my desk every day. The muffin someone left for me was great too. I would’ve thought the Mont Blanc pen was a misplaced item had it not been for the note with my name typed on it.

I either had a secret Santa, or Ipomoea was the best company anyone could ever work for.