4. Four Freya
Four: Freya
T he music's thumping vibrated the bedroom floor, aggravating me and making it extremely hard to concentrate on my work. Kaleb didn't have that many people over—probably only around eight or nine—but they were so loud that it sounded like he was having a full-blown party downstairs.
I was attempting to finish a sketch I had spent the past few weeks on, continuously deciding I hated it and starting again. However, this time, I was happy with the shading and detailed lines I’d faintly drawn, and I got to work slowly, worried I was going to ruin my efforts for the fourth time.
My pencil glided across the page effortlessly, the stress of everything melting away as I was utterly consumed in my own world.
But it didn’t last long.
A symphony of laughing outside the bedroom caused my fingers to falter, and I dropped my pad and pencil. Pulling open the door, I saw three girls standing behind it with confused expressions.
“Oh, sorry,” one of them said, causing her tipsy friends to laugh.
“We were just looking for a bathroom to do this in,” said the girl to my right, pulling out a small bag filled with white powder from her bra.
I paused for a few seconds, shaking my head and releasing a deep breath. “The bathroom is down the hall and to the right.”
Who was I to tell them not to? There was no way they'd listen.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I took a few steps forward, peeking over the landing to see Kaleb splayed out on the couch with a few other guys, all chatting loudly. He wore the same grumpy, bitter expression he usually did, listening to his drunk friends babble on, looking eager for them to leave.
One girl looked me up and down, pursing her lips. “You don't need to do that. Kaleb doesn't care.”
“I wasn't—”
“Who are you anyway? Are you even allowed up here?”
I blinked at the blunt question, furrowing my brows. “Yes, I am allowed up here, actually.”
“Kaleb specifically told everyone to stay downstairs,” jeered the tallest girl, her frame feeling feet above mine. She arched her eyebrows, a fake smile playing on her lips.
I scoffed as she yelled down at Kaleb, waving him upstairs, which he reluctantly adhered to after a few seconds of complaining.
He gazed at the girls questionably. “What, Maggie?”
“Who is this girl? She’s up here in a bedroom.”
I gazed up at Kaleb, raising a brow, silently asking him to take care of his friends. They were more than annoying, and I didn't want any part in their game. They were looking for trouble.
“Maggie.” Kaleb sighed, running a hand down the side of his face, scratching at his stubble in irritation. “Jesus Christ. Just leave her and go downstairs.”
She brushed her long, dark hair behind her shoulder, groaning as Kaleb stepped aside, making room for the girls to shuffle past him and head downstairs. However, she didn't follow, glaring at me instead. “What are you staring at?”
“Are you just looking for a fight?” I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. She was definitely an aggressive drunk, and people like that baffled me. What was the point in ruining everyone's fun to feed your ego? It didn’t impress anybody.
“Do you want a fight?” threatened Maggie, taking a step forward, her face inches from mine.
I laughed. “Oh, please. You’re so drunk I could push you over with my middle toe.”
Her eyes blazed. “Why don’t you just—”
“That's enough, Maggie.” Kaleb slid his hand between our bodies, gently nudging her backwards.
“God, some people are just so boring,” she jeered at me as Kaleb ushered her away.
He raised a brow at me, a frown masking his face. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing,” I told him, scoffing.
An awkward silence settled upon us.
“Maggie and her friends are bad drunks.” Kaleb’s jaw twitched. “Or more like bad people.”
I nodded, dragging my bottom lip into my mouth. As much as I never let words get to me, Maggie's boring comment had wriggled its way under my skin. I was never usually one to turn down an opportunity to socialise. However, since receiving my disappointing college grades a year ago, I’d decided it was time to knuckle down and actually begin trying. I couldn’t float along anymore.
“Well, I’ll let you get on with whatever you were doing.” Kaleb turned to leave, but before he could take another step, I closed my bedroom door, making my way past him.
I would show Maggie just how boring I could be.
There was nothing wrong with taking a brief break, and it was also impossible to concentrate with the noise, anyway. That was the excuse I was going with.
Kaleb released what sounded like a small chuckle from behind me, but I refused to look at him, moving past a few people who were too engrossed in their conversations to move out of the way.
Grabbing the first drink I could find once I entered the kitchen, I poured myself a shot, downing it and releasing a strangled hiss. Drinking on an empty stomach was definitely not a good idea. However, I was too frustrated to care.
My father had answered my call but hadn't said anything. I’d come to the conclusion that he’d probably listened before realising he didn’t care for my pleas. Maybe he’d finally left for good. It made sense. He’d hidden the debt from us, and now he didn’t want to face the consequences—the coward.
Not only that, but I had a bunch of bitchy girls acting as if they owned Kaleb’s house, berating me for simply trying to mind my own business.
“Woah,” came an amused voice from behind me, making me turn. A tall, attractive man stood in the kitchen's doorway, a smirk playing on his lips. “Take it easy there, sweetheart.”
I rolled my eyes, throwing back another shot, dropping the plastic cup on the counter.
“Tough day?” he asked, pouring himself a shot and downing it, keeping intense eye contact with me as he did so. He drank it as if it were water, a few droplets of liquid escaping, seeping out of the corners of his mouth. His hand moved to run over his buzz-cut head, and he leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He was good-looking, for sure, but not really my type.
“I guess you could say that,” I replied, giving up on the shot glass and grabbing the bottle of tequila, taking a large swig of it, and attempting to swallow it without a reaction—just like he had. However, I was sure that my display was less convincing.
“I'm Brent,” he said, holding his large hand out for me to shake.
“Freya.”
“So, how do you know Kaleb? I haven't seen you around.”
“My mom and I are staying here for a while. She's good friends with Jackie.” I gestured to the surrounding space. “Is there a special occasion I’m missing here?”
“It's Kaleb's 'welcome home' celebration. He hasn't seen most of these people for over three years. He doesn't visit often.”
It made sense. Kaleb didn’t look like he was a fan of most of these people.
“You’d think he’d be a little more inclined to relax at age twenty-six, but the guy’s a bit of a workaholic.” Brent rolled his eyes.
“How do you know Kaleb?”
“We're both based at the same bodyguard base, but we've been friends since we were young.”
“Did you guys come back together?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Brent nodded, pulling open the fridge, grabbing a beer, and popping it open with his teeth. “Yeah, we followed the same career path. We share a house near base, but when I told him I was coming down early for Christmas, he did the same.”
“Right, so what does being a bodyguard involve?” I’d been interested in querying Kaleb on the subject, but I knew I’d probably receive a scoff or a glare as my answer.
Brent shrugged. “It's kind of a mix of everything since it’s a private company, but we just use the term bodyguard because it's easier. We're trained to do raids, too, as well as guard people who need protection. We work alongside the police since they’re so understaffed.”
My eyes travelled down to Brent's waistband, a bulky object strapped to it, and they widened once I realised what it was.
He laughed, pulling the small handgun from its holster and holding it up. “We carry them everywhere.”
“Does Kaleb have one?” I asked, gulping and touching the cool black metal of the gun, having never seen one before in real life.
Brent nodded.
The thought of Kaleb being involved with raids and handling deadly weapons made me even more intimidated by him, knowing he was trained to fight and, most likely, kill if necessary. It caused me to shiver, and I wondered if he had ever actually taken anybody's life.
“We're about to play a game. Do you want to join?” asked Brent, holding his hand out for me to take.
I hesitated for a brief second, humming. What did I have to lose?
I grabbed Brent’s hand, allowing him to pull me through the kitchen doorway, stopping behind the couch that Kaleb was sitting opposite. He narrowed his eyes slightly when he noticed Brent's hand intertwined with mine, his questionable gaze lingering on his friend a little longer than necessary.
I attempted to gaze down at his waistband for any sign of a gun, but his shirt was covering too much, and I didn't want to get caught looking. The last thing I needed was for Kaleb to think I was checking him out.
“Okay, let's play,” said Brent, pulling me towards the couch, ushering everyone to move up so there was room for me to perch on the end, facing Kaleb and his watchful gaze.