Chapter 14
Mari
“Are you gonna tell me where you’re going yet?” Isaac calls from the bottom of the apartment block stairs.
Damn . I was hoping he’d still be out by the time I left for Vegas.
I watch his panicked expression from over the cement balcony that overlooks the parking lot. “Work trip!” I shout.
Isaac’s doubt is palpable. In the past ten years working at Mel’s, I haven’t gone on any work trips. I think he’s realized that I’m not working at the studio anymore considering my schedule has changed considerably.
He scans a couple of bags I’ve already transported to the bottom of the stairs, recognition gracing his features when he pinches the name tag on one of them. “Fucking Paj?k?”
Isaac butchers Kacper’s name. He says it like pah-jack , which is completely wrong.
“It’s pronounced pie-yunk ,” I correct, unsure if I’ve pronounced it correctly.
Isaac discreetly kicks the bag at his feet, and I scowl at him. I went into the gym earlier today for a quick catch-up with Davina before Kas picks me up this afternoon. I left with all the bags that didn’t fit into Bill’s small van.
“Has this got something to do with that fucking fight he’s doing against Fletcher Ward? Everybody’s talking about it.”
“Yeah.”
Pride wells up in my chest at the mention of the fight. I like to think that it’s because of my social media handling and not because Isaac hangs out in circles of people who go to local gyms.
“Are you working for him?” he asks in an accusatory tone.
“I am, yes.”
“So that’s what you’ve been doing? Hanging out with Paj?k and his weird little team?”
“I work for—with them.” I carry several bags down the stairs and Isaac watches me struggle from the bottom. “And they’re not weird.”
They’re a little strange, but I’m not going to admit that to Isaac who is a lot more strange, rude, and increasingly insufferable.
I flash him an annoyed glare as I jog back up the stairs and slip away to the bathroom before he can quiz me anymore about my life choices. When I return, he’s still rooted at the bottom of the stairs looking smugly at the bag he kicked a few moments ago.
“So, how the fuck did you get a job like that? You’ve worked at Mel’s forever,” he asks. I can’t help but smile. Fuck you, Isaac, look at me moving on. “You fucking Paj?k or something?”
My smile drops. “I cannot believe you just asked me that. That’s how you think I’m capable of getting a job?” Isaac shrugs. “You’re disgusting,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
The wavering of my voice betrays me and encourages a smirk on Isaac’s face.
“I’m disgusting? And what does that make Paj?k? You’re working for someone who beats up people for quick cash.”
“Is MMA not a legitimate sport to you? Or are you being dense on purpose?”
I retrieve my largest suitcase, careful not to topple over from the weight of it.
“But you can stand me, Mari. You’ve stood me for years.” I descend the stairwell and he ascends, each step of his charged with hostility.
“Because it’s convenient and we’re amicable,” I say.
“Because you have nowhere else to go,” he replies with a dry laugh. “You’re not wanted anywhere else. I don’t really like having you here, your aunt can’t make room for you, and don’t even get me started on your birth mom.”
His words slice through me and it’s agonizing.
I exhale sharply and avert my eyes from his. “That was a shitty thing to say, Isaac,” I say, my voice shaking.
“Listen, you know I’m an honest guy, so I’m gonna be honest with you.” Isaac sucks in a large breath of air through his recently whitened teeth, like he’s about to spout some declaration of knowledge. “You leech off people that can tolerate you, and I’m kind of tired of you draining me of some sort of human connection that you’ve been desperately seeking since your parents abandoned you.”
My heart stutters in my chest, refusing to crumble at his maliciousness. Isaac speaks with patronizing, faux empathy that fails to mask his obvious attempts to hurt me. He continues up the apartment steps, kissing my cheek as he passes.
“You do everything but leave,” he murmurs.
“I’m leaving for an entire month ... more than a month,” I say.
“And when I get back from my vacation in three weeks, I want you gone.”
A disorienting whirlwind of confusion and disbelief swirls within me as I grapple with Isaac’s words. With one last emotionless look at me, he disappears inside the apartment.
A disbelieving laugh bursts out of me. “What?” I choke out. I dump my suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and follow him.
I forgot about Turks and Caicos; I also didn’t know that he’d be back before me.
“Then it’s impossible for me to move out. I won’t be here for over a month.”
I have art prints here, hard drives, and boxes upon boxes of digitized memories—irreplaceable things. I don’t have the time or money to travel five hours between Arizona and Vegas to grab it along with my furniture. Quinn has no license and relies on friends to drive her around, Vi and Freya are out of state, and Auntie would be susceptible to a lupus flare-up with the stress of moving me out.
Think, Mari.
Isaac starts stripping off his clothes in the hallway with the apartment door wide open. I pace between the living room and the door, keeping my eyes on the luggage to ensure nobody takes it.
“Not my problem. If your shit isn’t gone before then, you might be able to find some of it in the landfill.”
“You’re joking, right?” I say, fighting away tears.
He smiles menacingly. “Am I?”
“Don’t play with me, Isaac. I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find out when you get back,” he says.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and a brief look at the screen shows a message.
Kas: 5 minutes
“Shit,” I hiss. When I look back at Isaac, his eyes are lingering on my phone. “Tell me if you’re joking or not, Isaac. This isn’t the time for one of your pranks. I know what you’re like.” My tone borders on begging and I hate it.
I don’t want to beg.
Isaac smirks and raises his eyebrows playfully. “Have a nice trip, I expect to hear from you, my love!” he calls as he steps into the bathroom and slams the door shut.
“What was that?” I whisper.
I mumble a groan into my hands and dig the tip of my fingers into my eyes, pressing away the tears. With a deep breath, I step out of the apartment and down the steps to my luggage, perching on the biggest suitcase until Kas arrives.
A couple of tears threaten to escape. They dry quickly in the Arizona heat and disappear completely by the time Kas’s sleek, black Audi rolls into the lot. I succumb to the random sense of relief I get seeing him here and quickly pat my cheeks as I stand up to dust myself off.
“Cze??,” he says, meeting me at the bottom of the apartment steps and bending down to grab my large suitcase first.
“Cze??,” I reply with forced cheer.
I haven’t spoken since the argument with Isaac and my voice is thick with sadness. Kas glances at me for a beat longer than necessary on his way to the trunk. I follow him with more bags, and he leaves me organizing space in the car as he retrieves the rest with less effort than it took me.
“You having a good afternoon?” he asks.
“Yep, I’m just organizing the luggage in the car,” I say. He emerges next to me and places the final bags into the car. “Is that everything?” I ask, still refusing to look at Kas.
I reach up to shut the trunk, only to be met with resistance. Kas’s arm is outstretched and holding the edge of it to prevent me from closing it.
“Look at me, Mari,” he says gently.
With a surprisingly soft hand, he takes my chin and turns my head to face him. He scans my eyes and prods the outer corner of my left one with his thumb.
“Puffy. You’ve been crying.”
“I haven’t. You think I look puffy?” I joke.
Kas doesn’t laugh.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Just nervous to be away from home,” I lie. Even the word “home” tastes bitter on my tongue.
I glance at the apartment door before pulling away from Kas and settling into the passenger seat. Kas looks toward the apartment too. Isaac is standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist and a sour look on his face.
“Did he do something to you?” Kas asks, hesitant to get into the car.
“No, no. He just made a mean joke.” The reminder of Isaac’s words makes my vision blur.
“Jokes aren’t meant to make people cry.”
“It’s nothing, it’s just how we joke around.”
Kas is unsatisfied with my response, his grip so tight on the edge of the car door that the color drains from his knuckles. “I’m going up there,” he mumbles and makes a start toward the apartment.
“Don’t,” I say firmly. He stops at my voice. “Don’t go up there, just drop it. He was joking.”
I can only hope Isaac is joking.
If he’s not, I’ll be completely and utterly fucked when I get back.