Chapter 40
Chapter forty
Tom
It’s almost one month since I arrived on the island, and in that time, my heart has made up for the minutes it stopped. It’s thudding like mad in my chest, and if there was ever a time to break even, it’s today.
I shift slightly to the right, angling my face directly into the fan. My tongue slides over my dry lips before taking a sip of cold water.
It won’t slow my heart down, but it offers a flicker of relief, and I’ll take anything I can get now that two hazel eyes are staring at me.
Deep brown with a touch of amber. They don’t match my bright blue, but they burn with equal fire.
It’s midday, hot as hell. No breeze at Calvin’s villa. I swear if I lobbed an egg at the wall it’d slide down as a fucking omelette.
Jay isn’t even sweating.
He presses his lips together, watching in cautious suspicion. He turns his glass, swirling the water right to the edge without spilling a drop.
His eyes are still on me, unblinking.
Christ.
“So… you’re telling me that your drug test was a false positive?”
“Trust me, Jay, there must’ve been a mistake. I haven’t popped a pill since I nearly dropped dead. I swear it on our mum.”
This is the second time I’ve tried selling my brother the story, and I know it’s a shit one. Still, part of me hopes he’ll see that I mean it. Sometimes he does.
He glances at Sergei, giving him a small nod.
Sergei keeps staring, his icy blue laser eyes burning a hole between my eyebrows.
“They ran a few hundred tests that day. Mistakes happen. Test me again, I’ll cooperate. Whatever it takes.”
Jay’s stare turns colder. “Do you take me for an idiot, Tom? Your test comes back positive, you vanish for days, and now you’re here, ready for a retest? Very clever.”
I catch a flicker of a grin on Sergei’s face as Jay says it. Just a twitch, nothing too visible. Russian bodyguards don’t smile.
I shrug. “Sorry, I freaked out. I needed some time to get my head straight. Stick me on a lie detector if you want.”
Calvin comes over to refill our glasses. I beg him with my eyes.
Please, Cal. For the love of God, help me out here.
“Um, Jay, listen… Tom’s changed. He’s not drinking anymore and—”
“Did I say you could talk?”
Calvin drops his head, retreats a few steps, then disappears into the kitchen. Sergei watches him go.
Jay turns back to me. “So, how was your stay? Any life-changing insights?”
Well, thanks for finally asking. Short version: you’re the biggest arsehole in my life, and if I want any chance at rebuilding it, I need to get rid of you.
I bite back a grin. Probably best to keep that one to myself.
“I’ve managed to process some things. Still working on it. It was going well until the local DEA barged in.”
Jay nods absently, scrolling through his phone.
“What’s your therapist’s name again? I should probably have a word with her.”
“Him,” I cough away a sudden tickle in my throat. “Doctor. Aoki, and he’s uhm, you know, alternative therapy. Crystals, needles. Back cracking and yoga.”
Focus, Tom. You’re in the danger zone now. Everything out of your mouth needs to sound casual.
And why does alternative therapy suddenly not sound casual at all?
Probably because getting sucked off puts a whole new spin on the alternative part.
I cross my right leg over my left, trying to hide the fact that just saying his name is enough to make me rock hard.
“Wait. I spoke to Doctor Nyberg, and she assured me she’d—” He stops mid-sentence, waving his words away.
“You know what? Maybe it’s for the best. At least we know you didn’t sleep with this one.”
Is… is this real? Did he just? Did he actually say that?
I press my palm over my mouth, feigning boredom. It’s like I’m holding a royal flush at the poker table while he’s gone all-in on a busted hand. Sweat beads on my forehead as I do my best to keep a straight face. I even roll my eyes. Oscar-worthy.
Jay watches me closely. “You behaved yourself at that resort, I hope?”
“Well, yeah, of course I did!”
Sergei opens his phone and hands it to my brother. Jay looks at the screen and raises an eyebrow.
“Stella Martens?” No context.
These games are wearing on my patience. I snatch the phone from his hand.
Tom McKenna and Stella Martens cozy up in rehab, reads the headline of the cheap gossip article.
“Calvin said you had a girlfriend in rehab. Is it Stella?” I scroll through the biggest pile of crap I’ve read about myself in ages. Lies I told Stella to keep her distracted while I was busy fooling around with Yosh.
“Nah, Stella clearly sent this in herself. Arcadia’s just a PR stunt for her, but I’m not looking for clout. I didn’t do anything with her.”
“With who, then?”
Sharp, that’s the Jay I know. He’s got me boxed in, eyes searching for a twitch.
No one on earth knows my moves better than he does. But I’m not an amateur. We studied street survival at the same university, so I know how to lie with the truth.
“I left all the girls in that place alone.”
I don’t look away. He doesn’t either. For a long moment, neither of us blinks.
Finally, he drops his gaze and slaps his knees.
“Alright. You seem fine, and Joan already told me you were at a party and didn’t touch a drop. Calvin’s vouching for you too. Says you’ve become boring, so I believe you. Good job, Tom. Keep it up.”
I nod, it takes a second to sink in.
Am I out of the danger zone?
Maybe.
But the paranoid part of me isn’t convinced just yet.
“So, what’s the plan, Tommy? When can I open up your agenda? And I mean no festivals or clubs. You’ll stay away from the DJ booth for a while.”
“Understood. I’ll do bingo at the elderly home instead.”
I swear, if looks could kill.
“I’ve had about fifteen requests for collabs. Narrowed it down to three serious names. Let’s see…”
Sergei hands Jay his work phone. A suffocating heat grips my throat the second he opens the calendar app.
“When should I book your return flight? Did your therapist mention anything about aftercare in Amsterdam? Because if so, we’ll need to find you a specialist and schedule that too. Your health comes first.”
Jay must catch the panic in my face, because he closes the calendar.
“Anything you want to say, Tommy?”
“I, uh… I want to stay a little longer, if that’s okay?”
Why are you still asking for permission, you idiot?
“Why?” He leans back, unhurried, like he’s already decided the answer and just wants to watch me squirm.
It clicks. This is Erin pur sang.
The exact posture, that look. It’s why I think of the word manipulation every time I see her in action. And now, more than ever, I’m sure I did the right thing by getting Yosh out of there.
My gut told me something was off, and now I know why. I recognized the same kind of threat I’ve lived with my whole life.
Whatever I will say, Jay’s already calculated every move on the board. No matter how I move or defend, he’s already got me in check. It means I’m one move away from game over.
So I decide to reopen the game.
“I want to collaborate with Cal,” I say. “We’ve been talking about starting a new project. I’m telling you, Jay, inspiration comes with the waves here. So if you want me to get back to work, this is how. No more club nights, no gigs, I promise.”
d4 d5 2. c4, the Queen’s Gambit. Let’s see how he takes it.
Jay stares at the floor. His fingers tap out a restless rhythm on the armrest of the rattan chair. A frown creases his forehead as he thinks about my words.
“Okay,” he says. “We can try it. On one condition.”
There it is, Jay’s move. He can accept my gambit, but only if I pay the price.
“I want the family together for Christmas next month. So I’d like you at Heatherfell. I want it to be special for Effy. For all of us. A celebration of the next generation of McKenna.”
Christmas with the family. Intense.
I have to go to Heatherfell, because if I don’t, Jay might pull the whole deal off the table.
“Of course I’ll come for Christmas.” I don’t think I’ve ever smiled this fake. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Jay claps his hands together. If there’s one thing that brings him joy, it’s watching his plans fall perfectly into place.
Meanwhile he has no idea I’m playing a different game of chess. Because Yosh is my king, and I’ll sacrifice myself to protect him.
“Perfect!” Jay says. “By the way, Calvin showed me some of your new work yesterday.”
“Oh, he did?”
“Yes, it’s fantastic, Tommy. I can hear the old you in it. The chorus layering is clever. Finish it. I’ll sell it to the highest bidder.”
Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but it’s smarter not to make a fuss.
Staying with Yosh matters more than the work. I’ll go back to commercial shit if it keeps Jay off my back.
Jay reaches out. Our fingers meet and slide into place at exactly the right moment. We turn our hands, palms slap, and finish with a fist bump.
Our secret handshake.
He’d made it up one of the times Mum ran off, trying to cheer me up. It worked. I got obsessed and wouldn’t let him walk into the living room without doing it. Half the time, he’d fake a trip to the kitchen just so he could come back and see me grin.
I hadn’t even noticed when Mum came back two weeks later. Jay’s inventions helped me not notice a lot of things back then.
Guilt creeps in. Maybe I’ve been too quick to judge him for all the shit he’s done.
It would be much easier if he was one hundred percent awful, but he’s not.
He’s always looked out for me and Cheryl in his own fucked-up way, I can’t argue that.
At least he’s always protected his siblings in a life where it’s been us against the world.
Looking back, that’s probably what shaped him.
Always taking the hits before they could reach us.
What if I told him he could use therapy? Make it a family session.
Nah. Forget it. No therapist on earth would survive the full McKenna mess.
Coordinates. It became part of our language after that prank Yosh pulled on me in Palm Oasis.