Retribution

Chapter 7 - Common Interests

Adam turned to look at Jake, albeit too quickly. He stumbled backwards, the spade clattering to the concrete and falling on one of his feet in the process. A stream of curse words filtered through the air followed by an unsteady kick at the innocent tool.

Jake marched straight up to him, stopping just far enough away to be out of reach, but close enough to make it obvious he wasn't scared.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jake asked.

Adam jerked his head back and looked Jake up and down. Then he glanced around him as if looking for something. "Am I—" he hiccupped and turned to me, narrowing his eyes "—is that why she won't let me in? It part of the script?"

"I think it's time for you to leave," Jake said, moving forwards with his hand outstretched.

Thrusting his hand in his pocket, Adam pulled out a clear wrapper with some tell-tale white powder crammed inside. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

"But look," Adam said, waving the parcel in Jake's face. "I got my own props. Mafia live off drugs," he said, shaking his head. He hiccupped again, dropped the drugs, and put his hands over his mouth.

I squeezed my eyes closed. How had I put up with this for so long? The fact he referenced Jake's string of mobster films told me how intoxicated he was. Which meant only one thing followed his hiccups.

Right on cue, he doubled over, a stream of yellow vomit splashing onto my neat green grass.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. He waited for the flow of sick to lessen, grabbed Adam by the collar of his shirt, and dragged him across the driveway. He shoved him out into the road and said, "If I catch you here again, in any state but sober, I'll call the police."

Adam wiped his mouth with his hand and then scratched his head, leaving sickly yellow flecks in his dark brown hair. He laughed. "You don't know who I am."

I rolled my eyes. His uncle, whilst trying to save his nephew, had only increased the size of his ego and feelings of grandeur.

"Quite frankly," Jake said. "I couldn't care less if you were the King of Ireland. Right now, you're a drunk asshole terrorising a single mother."

He blinked, but it wasn't a normal blink, it was elongated which usually meant he was about ready for a sleep. When he finally opened his eyes, he swayed from side to side before staggering across the road.

Jake stood and watched him for several seconds then jogged over to me. The apologies were already tumbling from my mouth before he even reached me.

"Are you ok?" he said, lifting a hand. Still on high alert with adrenaline pulsing through me, I jumped backwards. He dropped his hand, a flicker of sadness in his sapphire eyes. "I would never hurt a woman, Louisa. Never."

Tears welled in my eyes. Adam had said that at the beginning too. Everything at the start had been perfect. The classic too good to be true. And here I was again, take two.

I nodded and smiled. "I'm ok, thank you. I'm so sorry—"

"No apologies," he said, stepping closer and pushing the door closed behind him.

"Hey!" Adams slurred speech shouted through the morning peace. "Ireland doesn't have a King!"

Jake smirked. "With any luck, he'll find a nice ditch to have a nap in." He held his arms out and gave me such a warm smile, my racing heart all but stopped dead. "You look like you need a hug."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. A stray tear slipped free. That was all I'd needed for the past ten years. I nodded.

I didn't move as he took the last of the space between us. He curled his arms around me, wrapping me up in such a solid embrace, I actually relaxed. My shoulders slumped and I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath. The pleasant aroma of oranges surrounded me, tempting me into a serene, peaceful world.