FIFTY-NINE
Gigi
That taunting voice in my mind has become increasingly painful. But perhaps more importantly, it’s making me tired.
I’ve always known what I want … but recently my desire has been faltering.
Something flipped inside of me the night at the motel with Harry. Seeing how deep his scars lie and how unmistakable his hatred is triggered something so strong in me that it shattered my common sense. And I can’t allow it to happen again, no matter how much a part of me aches for him.
I struggle to make any thoughts clear other than profound jealousy. I’m so irked that Harry has his emotions intact while I feel like I’m falling apart on the inside, in a mental tug-of-war, with my head pulling in one direction and my heart in another.
Is it worth it? That question keeps coming back to haunt me.
I don’t know, and I don’t want the answer.
Spent and mentally exhausted, I’ve been avoiding him, spending most of my days stuck in the boardroom, deep in piles of documents, eyes stinging from the flare of Whizz Tech Dan’s laptop screen as we go over endless plans.
Richard has put the recruits under extreme pressure, fearing Paolo Ricci is still desperately trying to tear down the barricades we’ve built. My gut has recently tried warning me he’s up to something else, but I’m convinced it’s only another fragment of my distorted mind. As a means of gratitude for our hard work, he’s giving everyone the night off, and we’re all spending the night in Chequers in Soho. The very bar that haunts my dreams.
I don’t realise how much my memory of this club torments me until I take a drink with each unwanted thought that arises from my past. Welcoming the burn against the inside of my throat, I drink.
And drink.
And drink.
And drink
I’m a complete mess.
And it’s a thought that someone like me – someone with such a high position in the Circle – can’t afford. Perhaps if I greet them with this vile version of myself on the surface, they won’t see how devastating I am beneath.
I’ve climbed the ranks, and I should feel victorious. But as I look towards the bar and see Harry interacting with a random woman, I feel poor and utterly useless.
As if it’s another heist and my life is on the line, I analyse my options, thinking of the best-case scenario. Debating how I can rid my mind of these feelings. Perhaps if I give way to that voice in my head, the one reminding me of my bad decisions, they’ll finally leave me alone. If I consider one of the worst sins, maybe I can banish the haze that’s swallowing me. God knows I’ve made enough mistakes. What makes another?
And a man like Harry, his weakness lies solely in jealousy.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t care for me anymore, let alone feel the sort of white-hot jealousy he’d feel if I were with another man, which leaves my options extremely limited. There are only a few men who can grate at Harry’s nerves, and one of them is standing at the bar, drink in hand.
I stumble my way through the crowd of drunks and fall up the steps as I come up beside Andy. Placing my hand on his elbow, I cock my head towards the dance floor.
“Come dance with me.”
Panic rises in his eyes. “Uhh …”
His eyes are red-rimmed, so I don’t doubt he’s on something stronger. When he finally gives in, he calls back in apology to the person he was talking to at the bar. The action catches Harry’s attention, causing his emerald eyes to squint to slits as he watches in concern.
Pulling on Andy’s hands, I encourage them to my waist and slip my arms around his neck, moving in time with the music. The feeling makes my body crawl, but I blame my excessive drinking, having downed each one like water this evening.
Andy’s head falls to mine, and he slurs, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
He drops his head to my throat, and I slip my fingers through the back of his hair. An odd feeling crawls over my skin as I feel Andy’s lips skimming my collarbone. I refuse to turn to Harry’s piercing stare, afraid of what emotions it could force true.
You’re sick , that male voice comes through. I’m so fucking embarrassed.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting through.
Just persevere for a few more seconds, Gigi , I beg forcefully. A few more seconds and it won’t hurt anymore —
But it’s too much.
I force my own subconscious too far, slipping into a deep hole of nothing but endless darkness. My nails dig in deep, aching for escapism, welcoming this numb reality until my weakened feelings leave.
I become nothing, enclosed in a cocoon of darkness.
I’m breathing, but I might as well not be.
I have to get out.
But I don’t want to.
“You smell like roses,” Andy mumbles, breaking my reserve. “And bad decisions.”
I can hardly hear him over the roar in my ears.
When Jack’s words try to force through I slip further into the dark part of my mind. His words pound with fury, but they bounce off the shields I’ve built up.
Yet it’s my own voice that screams, Andy’s like a brother! What are you doing?
His lips move up my jaw to my chin and then dangerously close to my mouth.
My eyes fly open, and I can barely pull myself together. Can barely do anything but shove him off as if I’ve committed the ultimate sin.
Confusion flashes across his eyes.
I shake my head. “I … I’m not doing this. This isn’t me.”
I bring both hands down my face – a desperate plea to sober myself. When I withdraw my palms, blonde hair fills my vision. The person standing in front of me is frozen in time, turning to stone and sending my blood cold.
“Mia,” I say breathlessly.
My … my best friend.
She’s still, and even under the strobe lights I can see the glassiness of her eyes. They dart over my shoulder, and I follow her gaze, seeing Andy tumbling sideways, his hand falling to my hip.
My head whips back around to Mia, and I watch a stray tear fall down her cheek.
She wipes it away.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
Her shoulders stiffen and her nostrils flare. Despite the rage coursing through her face, her voice is deadly calm. “Who even are you?”
She storms past me and grabs Andy’s arm, forcing it around her shoulder as she struggles to lead them towards the communal toilets .
“Mia, I—”
“For months!” she shouts, whipping her head around and losing composure. “I tried contacting you for months, and nothing! Do us all a favour and just leave us the fuck alone.”
Her voice brings the attention of onlookers, and I wrap my arms around my stomach, my body feeling like it’ll cave in on itself.
The notorious criminal shouldn’t be bothered by wandering eyes. If anything, she’d live for it. She’d think of all the creative ways she could stop them from ever looking at her the wrong way again.
Instead she feels utterly disgusted.
What’s happening to me?