Hooker (38 page)

‘I don’t know why I wasted my money on that damn car,’ he yells at my back as I skate away.

I don’t drive it because it’s the same type of car he and my brother have. The type made specifically for preppy, pole-stuck-up-their-arse show ponies. It just screams,
Look at me I’m a pretentious dickhead
. That’s not who I am. Give me my skateboard any day.

When
I graduated high school last year, my father asked me what type of car I’d like. I told him I wanted a classic, something cool like a 1967 Mustang. Instead I got a brand new Alfa-fucking-Romeo. I don’t mean to sound like an ungrateful prick, but honestly, I would’ve preferred a beaten-up Toyota or something. Why can’t he see I’m nothing like him, and no matter how hard he tries, I’ll never be?

I hate my life
.

Without even thinking I head to the one place I don’t have to try to be someone I’m not. Candice’s house. She’s not only my candylicious, blonde, blue-eyed bombshell, she’s my best friend. The only person on this earth who gets me. We’re kindred spirits. Like me, she’s a social outcast. Neither of us belong in the fake high-class society we were unfortunate enough to be born into.

I’ve had a secret crush on her since the first day we met. Keeping my hands to myself has been a constant struggle, but I’m not the commitment type. And we’d never last. I’d rather have a life-long friend then a fleeting good time. I’d never want to lose what we have. She’s the only one who keeps me sane in the fucked up world I exist in.

I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive the next few years at uni without her.

‘Jesus Christ, Sophia, give it a rest. It’s only hair. It’s not the end of the world!’ I hear Candice screech, moments before she opens the front door. Sounds like she’s having a similar day to me.

Who invented parents anyway?

‘Whoa!’ I blurt out in shock the second she appears in the doorway.

‘Great. Not you too,’ she snaps as her shoulders slump.

‘Hey.
I like it,’ I say as my eyes move down the length of her very pink hair.

‘You do.’

‘It’s very candylicious. Very … you.’ I smile when I see her face light up. I love seeing that look. It never gets old.

‘Come in, you dork,’ she says with a light-hearted laugh, reaching for my arm and dragging me into the foyer, ‘and stop calling me that.’

‘What, candylicious?’ I chuckle when she playfully elbows me in the ribs, narrowing her eyes. I’m the only one who’s ever gotten away with calling her that name. I watched in amusement one day when one of the preppy guys at school groped her arse and called her candylicious. She swung around and grabbed hold of his crotch, hard. I almost pissed myself laughing when his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell to his knees in agony. She’s a top chick, just don’t mess with her.

‘Jax. Thank god you’re here.’ Sophia sighs with relief as she rushes into the foyer from one of the side rooms. ‘Look what she’s gone and done.’ I see tears glistening in her eyes as she points to Candice’s hair.

Candice’s mum is an ex-supermodel, so appearance is extremely high on her agenda. She’s constantly having work done to maintain her beauty as she ages. So much so, she could easily pass as Candice’s sister, instead of her mother.

‘I like it,’ I state, winking at Candice before looking back to Sophia.

‘Great. Of course you would,’ she cries, throwing her arms in the air in defeat. ‘I should’ve known you’d stick up for her. You always do.’

And that will never change. I’ll always have her back, just like I know she’ll always have mine.

‘It’s
just hair.’

‘Bright fucking pink hair!’ Sophia screams before covering her face and sobbing. She’s a little on the dramatic side, but she has a good heart.

‘I honestly don’t see what the big deal is,’ I confess.

Candice shakes her head, giving me a look that has me closing my mouth and not speaking another word. When her mother lets out a dramatic howl, I’m glad I stopped.

‘Come,’ Candice says, reaching for my hand and dragging me towards the staircase. ‘I’ll show you what the big deal is.’

‘I’m making a hair appointment for you tomorrow, missy,’ Sophia calls out as Candice pulls me up the stairs.

‘Fine. Make an appointment,’ Candice replies sarcastically, ‘good luck getting me to go.’

Candice not only inherited her mother’s beauty, she also inherited her pigheadedness. They have a fantastic mother–daughter relationship on a whole, but when they have a disagreement—let’s just say it’s explosive.

‘Where are you taking me?’ Usually we hang out in the games room, or by the pool.

An image of Candice’s sinful body in one of those tiny bikinis she wears enters my mind. Do you know how hard it is to be best friends with someone you carry a permanent fucking boner for? Torture is the first word that springs to mind.

‘To my room,’ she replies.

‘Hell no,’ I say, tugging my hand out of hers. That’s dangerous territory right there. Me in Candice’s bedroom? Not happening.

‘Get over yourself. I just want to show you something. You’re delusional if you think I’m going to attack you or anything.’

When
she puts her finger in her mouth and fakes a gag, I lunge for her, throwing her over my shoulder.

‘Jax, put me down,’ she squeals.

‘Not until you take that back.’

‘Take what back?’ She laughs as I run up the stairs with her.

‘That fucking gag you just did.’

‘Never,’ she says through her laughter.

‘Take it back,’ I demand, bringing my hand down on her arse. It only seems to make her laugh harder. When I get to the top of the landing, I slide her down my body before pinning her to the wall. ‘Take it back.’

‘Nope. Make me.’ She has that stubborn look in her eyes, and I already know I’ve lost.

Growling, I bring my face close to hers. Big mistake. We always muck around with each other, but never this close up and personal. I can feel her sweet breath on my skin, and my heart starts to race. We’re both breathless. The moment my eyes lock with hers, something shifts between us. Things go from playful to serious in a millisecond.

My face involuntarily moves towards hers. I hear her breath hitch just before our lips connect. Christ, they’re just as soft and sweet as I imagined that’d be.

What in the hell am I doing? Reality hits like a bolt of lightning. Pushing off the wall, I take a step back. I can’t lose her.

‘Fuck. I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

I swear I see hurt flash through her eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. ‘Don’t be,’ she says with a shrug, as she
casually walks away, heading towards her bedroom. ‘Are you coming or what?’

I pause momentarily. This is a bad idea, but I don’t want things to be weird between us. That’s the closest we’ve ever come to crossing the line.
We can’t cross that line
. It’s too risky. If I walk away now, that’s exactly what it will be—weird. Sighing, I follow her. I don’t have a choice.

‘What the?’ I say the second she opens her door. Her bedroom is very pink, just like her hair. But that’s not what surprises me, it’s the huge display cabinets running the entire length of the wall. Rows and rows of trophies line the shelves. ‘Did you do a ram-raid on a trophy factory?’

‘Very funny, arsehole,’ she says, nudging my shoulder. ‘No, I won them.’

‘What? How?’ I walk towards the cabinet closest to me and read the inscription on one of the trophies. Fuck me. ‘You’re a beauty queen?’ I ask in amazement, swinging around to face her. How did I not know this? That’s when I spot all the sashes that are proudly displayed along the wall above her bed.

‘Yes,’ she replies, her shoulders slumping. ‘I’m supposed to be in the running for Miss Australia, hence the pink hair. But I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, Jax. I hate it.’

‘Then why do you do it?’

‘Sophia,’ is all she says, letting out a deflated breath. I still find it weird that she calls her mother by her first name. Apparently, being called ‘Mum’ makes Sophia feel old.

‘Oh.’ I get that. My dad has been controlling my life for as long as I can remember.

‘This is why she freaked out about my hair,’ she says gesturing around the room with her hand. ‘The Miss Australia
pageant is only two weeks away. This crap means everything to her.’

‘But not to you?’ I’m still shocked by her revelation. My candylicious is a beauty queen. Sure, she’s got the looks for it, she’s a fucking babe, but the Candice I know is far from that type of girl.

‘Exactly. You know me better than anyone, Jax. This is not who I am.’ She’s always so bubbly, so it hurts to see her so deflated. I want to pull her into my arms, but I can’t—dangerous territory.

‘Did you tell Sophia that?’

‘Yes. I’ve been telling her for years. I don’t know,’ she says, raising her arms in frustration. ‘I guess she misses her old life, so she’s trying to live vicariously through me.’

‘That’s fucked up.’

‘I know, right? Welcome to my life.’

‘You know, mine’s not much better. I wish our parents would just let us live our lives the way we want.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’

She prances across the room and my eyes follow. Her sweet apple scent lingers in the air as she breezes past me. I’m fucking addicted to the way she smells. On any other occasion, I’d probably be checking out her arse, but our little encounter in the corridor has me spooked. When she bends over to retrieve something out of the bottom drawer, I quickly divert my gaze to the ceiling.

‘So how long have you been doing this beauty thing?’ I ask trying to pull my thoughts out of the gutter.

‘Since I was four,’ she replies with a roll of her eyes.

‘I can’t believe you never mentioned it.’

‘It’s
not something I’m proud of.’ The sadness in her voice tears at my heart. ‘Here.’

When she passes me a shot glass, I raise it to my nose, inhaling. The strong scent of aniseed invades my senses. Sambuca. Nice.

‘Bottoms up,’ she says, holding her glass in the air. ‘Or should I say, penises up.’

My face screws up at her comment, then I look at the glass in my hand. Why did I not see that before? It has a tiny penis handle, and the words ‘I Love Peckers’ written in bold letters across the front.

‘No fucking way,’ I snap, shoving the shot glass into her hands before frantically wiping my fingers down the front of my jeans to remove the pecker germs. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? I’m not drinking out of a cock cup.’

Candice throws her head back and laughs at my outburst. I’m glad she finds this amusing. ‘It’s just a glass, Jax, get over it.’

‘A glass with a cock on it. Would you drink out of a pussy cup?’ I ask, smugly.

‘Um, yeah. It’s just a damn cup. The shape or design hold no significance.’

How did we go from talking about beauty queens to genitals? I rub my free hand over my face. Christ, I really need to get out of her room before I do something I’m going to regret for the rest of my life.

‘It does if you’re male and it’s shaped like a cock,’ I retort.

‘Fine. More for me.’ She downs her shot, quickly followed by mine. Clenching her eyes shut, she shakes her head slightly as she swallows the liquid. I grin as I watch her. She’s like no other girl I know. I think that’s the thing I love about her most. When her eyes spring open, she looks at me sceptically.

‘When
did you become a homophobe?’

‘I’m not a damn homophobe. I have no problem with a guy drinking out of a cock cup, as long as it’s not me.’

When she laughs again, I swear I hear her mumble pussy under her breath, but I’m not entirely sure, so I let it go.

Stalking across the room, I grab the open bottle of Sambuca off her dresser and bring it to my lips.

I’ll give her pussy.

*

Two hours and an empty bottle of Sambuca later, it’s safe to say we’re both a little drunk. We’re sprawled on her bed, lying side by side and staring at the ceiling. Being on her bed with her is a bad idea, but the alcohol seems to have robbed me of my common sense.

‘I’m going to miss you while you’re away,’ Candice whispers, reaching for my hand. I’m gonna fucking miss her too. My chest aches just thinking about it. ‘Oh, that reminds me, I got you a little present.’ Sitting up, she leaps off the bed.

‘It’s not cock paraphernalia is it?’

‘No, you dick.’ She laughs, coming to sit back down on the side of the bed. ‘Here.’

I look at the parcel in her hand. ‘You shouldn’t have,’ I say rolling onto my side and propping myself onto one elbow.

‘I wanted to. I hope you like it.’

I’ll like it just because it’s from her
. When she extends her hand, I take the present before pushing myself into a sitting position.

‘Candice,’ I whisper when I see what’s inside.

‘I
know you’re not studying art at uni, but one day you’ll get to fulfil your dream. In the meantime, you can keep all your sketches in there.’

A lump rises in my throat as I gaze down at the black, leatherbound sketchpad. It has
Jax’s Dream
stamped in silver across the front, and underneath the words
Wicked Ink
curve around an image of a skull-and-crossbones. This gift signifies so much. She’s the only one who’s ever supported me. I love her for that alone.

‘Thank you,’ I say as my eyes meet hers.

‘You will open your own tattoo parlour one day, Jaxson Albright, I know it.’ I love the conviction in her voice.

A sudden sadness washes over me. ‘How am I going to survive the next few years without you?’

She sighs and looks away from me to watch her fingers swirl a figure-eight pattern in the comforter.

‘Hey,’ I say, placing my finger under her chin and dipping my head to make eye contact with her. When I see tears pooling in her baby blues, it’s like a sucker-punch to the chest. I pull her into my arms. ‘Hey, don’t cry.’

‘You’re the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for,’ she sniffles.

‘And you’re the bestest friend a guy could ever ask for.’ Shit. Did I just utter those words? That would have to be, hands down, the unmanliness thing I’ve ever said. It’s that fucking cock cup, it’s messing with my head. I hear her chuckle through her tears, and I know she’s thinking exactly what I am—I’m a pussy.