Beast (16 page)

I’m pacing the floor. I feel like I’m going to pull out all my hair.

Fuck – I pushed her away.

And I’m already paying the price. I had the misfortune of falling asleep for a few hours. The demons shook me awake at 3:00 in the morning. I haven’t been back to sleep since.

I had that dream again. Gunfire ringing out. Bombs dropping around me. I was paralyzed on the ground as mayhem exploded around me. She was approaching me. She was coming for me. Only this time, it wasn’t the Little Girl who appeared through the dust. It was Jasmine’s sweet face that scowled down at me.

I need to talk to Dr. Andrews about changing my pills.

A roar tears past my lips as I grab a pathetic chair by its arm and flip it to the ground.

It was bad enough watching her fall for another man while I pretended to want her as just a friend. But now, she’s gone altogether. “I’ll go crazy without her.”

I thunder into the kitchen and fling the cabinet door open. I grab a bottle of whiskey out of the cardboard box. I crack it open as I slide to the floor, my back pressed against the wall. It doesn’t even burn going down my throat. Nothing could ever feel as bad as the agony of having Jasmine ripped from my life just when I was starting to feel human again.

So, I drink that bottle of scotch and when I’m finished, I totter back to the cabinet and grab another.

Eventually, everything goes black.

I’m awakened by a hard whack to the shoulder. “Wake the fuck up!”

I blink slowly, the blurry image before me gradually taking shape. My father glowers down at me, his walking stick fisted tightly in his hand. Beams of sunlight pour in through the large windows, piercing into my eyes and searing what’s left of my brain.

Argh – why the hell is sunshine so…
shiny
?

“What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts at me, whopping at the empty liquor bottles on the floor next to me.

I’m still spread out on the floor. “Why are you here, dad?” I groan so damn annoyed, covering my eyes with my palms.

“That’s the question I came here to ask
you
,” my father roars, the vein in his neck pulsing wildly. “All the senior partners are waiting for you right now. Right this minute. And here you are, drunk off your ass on the floor like the pathetic, son-of-a-bitch that you are.”

Fuck – I had a conference call scheduled for this morning.

“Get your ass up and get dressed,” my father commands. “I need to think of a way to fix this mess.”

Chess’s personal chef sets a plate in front of each of us before removing our stainless steel cloches with great fanfare.

“This smells amazing,” I say offering the chef a grateful smile.

“Grilled langoustines with garlic and herb butter,” he announces proudly gesturing towards the gorgeously displayed food on my plate. “The herbs were hand-picked from the garden out back. And the langoustines, we had them flown in from –”

“That will be all, Winston,” Chess interrupts in a curt tone. His trademark charming smile slides effortlessly onto his face. The chef’s mouth snaps shut and his eyes fill with embarrassment but he doesn’t look the least bit surprised. Chess has obviously spoken to him like this before.

The man gives us a quick bow before disappearing out of the room.

Chess’s eyes are on me and he’s still smiling. But I refuse to simply brush off what happened and forget that he just humiliated poor Winston. “Y’know, I was really interested to hear more about the meal,” I say pointedly.

His eyebrows rise in surprise, but he recovers easily. “Oh, I just was eager to have your attention all to myself. I don’t get to see you nearly as often as I would like.”

This guy is
good
. Because as irritated as I just was, I already feel his flattery taking effect.

As usual, Chess fills me in on the happenings on the campaign trail. We chat for a while but before long, I’m too tired to even keep my eyes open.

“Ready for bed?” Chess asks as I slide my hand over my mouth to smother a yawn.

I nod. “Yeah. Pretty tired.”

He smiles. “Okay. I’ll show you to your room.” On the inside, I sigh, relieved that he’s offering me my own bedroom instead of inviting me to join him in his. I’m grateful that I don’t have to have that awkward conversation with him tonight.

He leads me down the dimly-lit corridor joining the dinning room to the stairs in his Scarsdale home. When he gets to the bottom of the spiral staircase, he pauses in front of the framed mirror on the wall. He steps in close.

He adjusts the collar of his blue oxford shirt and looks at himself in the mirror with a smug grin. “President Chester Davidson…President Chester Davidson…” he announces in a ceremonial voice.

I stand back and watch him, nearly gaping in disbelief.
Did he really just do that?

Just when I think that he can’t get any more obnoxious in this moment, he pulls me close and tucks me under his arm. “President and first lady Chester Davidson....How does that sound?” He tosses me a wink and my stomach churns. The minuscule chance he had of getting laid tonight just evaporated into thin air.

Still, I push a smile to the surface. “We should really get some sleep.” I tap him lightly on the chest.

He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips. My shoulders relax a bit as he smiles down at me. “You’re right. Let’s go get some sleep.”

I’m regressing and I know it.

I was just starting to see glimpses of my old self, the man trapped inside the beast. I saw a glimmer of hope, something to hold on to…and now, she’s gone.

Jasmine left.

I hear my shrink’s voice in my head as I lower myself down to the floor on shaky arms. “Applaud your own courage, celebrate your own victories.“

I can count the victories of the past 24 hours. Easy. Only drinking half a bottle of whiskey instead of losing myself at the bottom of two more bottles seems like a fucking victory to me. Resisting the desire to pull Jasmine into my office, pin her to the wall and fuck her till she begged for mercy when she walked by my office this morning, that was a victory. Successfully fighting the urge to show up at her apartment tonight and kick down the door was a victory as well.

Being a coward seems to take a whole lot of courage, if you ask me.

I try to find thoughts to distract me from the agony I’m feeling, but nothing helps. I force myself to think about work but that only stresses me out when I remember the rescheduled meeting that I have with the firm’s senior partners tomorrow.

I force myself to think about Shadow and the work I asked him to do for me. But he’s already reported back that Chess Davidson has a clean slate and that only sinks my spirits deeper.

I force myself to think about my last session with Dr. Andrews, but that doesn’t help because, I know that she’s a professional and all, but I can’t help the feeling that she just doesn’t
get
what I’m going through.

The closest I’ve come to feeling understood was when I spent time with Jasmine. She
knew
what I was feeling. She’s been to hell and back herself. She
understands
my pain.

All roads lead back to Jasmine Jasmine Jasmine.

I collapse onto my chest, my sweaty face pressed to the cold concrete floor. I’ve lost count of how many push-ups I’ve done tonight. My body aches from all the exercise I’ve been doing to distract myself. But I’m scared of what I’ll do if I stop.

I might get dressed.

I might hop on my motorcycle.

I might speed through the streets like a bat out of hell.

I might go get my fucking girl.

I’m worried about Liam.

I know that it’s not my place to worry about him; he’s a grown man and we’re no longer in each other’s lives. Still…I’m worried.

His office door has been closed for days now. I can’t tell if or when he shows up at work. I don’t see his blinds rustling anymore as I walk down the hall. His secretary still brings me lunch everyday but he hasn’t made any effort to contact me personally.

“He’s not yours to worry about, Jasmine,” I mutter to myself as I bring my attention back to the half-drafted contract on my computer screen. I can’t let the quality of my work suffer because I’m lovesick over Liam Cartwright. He’s the freaking managing partner of this law firm, my boss; he’s got it made. Me? I’m a lowly first-year associate. I’m expendable, especially if I’m turning in subpar work.

There’s a knock at the door. Luce stands coyly in the doorway with a large brown bag. “Your lunch,” she says quietly.

“Come in, Luce,” I say gesturing her in with a wave of my hand.

She saunters in, sets the bag on my desk and turns to leave.

“Wait,” I say bolting to my feet.

She twizzles around on the point of her toes to look at me. “Yes?”

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t care.
“Liam…”

She tilts her head to the side and looks at me keenly. “Yes?”

My voice drops to a whisper. “How’s he doing?” I ask. Every bone in my body is screaming that it’s none of my business.

She heaves a sigh and pulls on the long sleeve of her blouse. “He’s…different. Since he stopped eating lunch with you.” She glances over her shoulder nervously towards Liam’s closed door. She steps closer to me and speaks in a hushed tone. “He’s pretty much gone back to the way he was when he just got here from Texas. He’s reserved and grumpy and keeps his door shut all the time.” She looks hesitant before she adds. “And most of the time, he reeks of alcohol.”

My heart twists in my chest. “Has he said anything to you?”

Luce hocks incredulously. “You’re kidding right? He barely says a word to me except ‘Make sure Jasmine gets her lunch’.”

I glance over at his door and it’s taking every bit of my self-restraint to keep me from barging in there and doing anything I can to make it better for him.

I give Luce a poor attempt at a smile. “Thanks…for everything.”

She nods, her weak grin reflecting mine. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on between the two of you and I don’t need to know, but he’s different when he’s got you in his corner. He’s…
better
.” She doesn’t wait for me to speak. She just turns and walks back to her desk.