Page 50 of The Love You Hate
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Presley
Grant Barringer holds out the tray of cocaine. I eye the camera, blinking red, in the corner of the hotel room warily. Gray said he doesn’t care what I do as long as I stay alive. He takes the less is more approach when acting as my bodyguard. The suite is large, shiny, and clean. If I spent twenty-four hours with every cleaning product known to man, I’d never be able to get my trailer this clean. It wasn’t this clean when it was brand new, I think. “Oh, come on, Preppy,” Grant says, tone nasal. “Your bodyguard doesn’t care if you have a little fun.”
“I still can’t believe they let his whole thing happen. I feel like I’ve been in prison myself.” Aspen is not Gold Hawke. It’s flashy. It’s money. It has everything that reminds me of my old life.
He does this gurgle laugh thing that makes me wince. It sounds like he needs to clear his throat, but doesn’t know how. After the third time, I’d like to clear his fucking throat for him. “I told you baby, I’d make it happen.”
“You didn’t make this happen, Grant.” He takes credit for everything. Everything. “My dad did.” The hotel is crawling with Charge Men. It pisses me off because I catch my heart in my throat when I see the back of a black suit. They’re all built tall and muscular, and they all resemble Nate. Fucking Nate Sullivan. I could gut him like a fish for what he’s done to me. Grant is a playboy jerkface, but I expect that from him. Nate, though? He caught me with a kindness I didn’t know existed. “I don’t want cocaine right now.” Cocaine doesn’t make you forget like alcohol does. I grab a bottle of Pappy and pour four fingers. This night can only end one way and it’s not something I’m excited about. I relish the burn of the alcohol sliding down my throat.
Grant is the person who helped me get the medicine for Felix to save his life. He is the supplier, the man pulling all the strings with the singular underground prescription ring. Grant Barringer took the travesty of the situation my father caused and turned it into a fortune. You might as well call him God. He has the ability to control who lives and who dies. I think he made a deal with my father, or is communicating with him in some way, but I don’t want to know. It’s already dangerous that I owe him. I didn’t have cash to pay him, so, well, the deal was this—tonight. Him partying in my hotel room for the entire night. A small price to pay for a human life, but fucking annoying all the same. I look at Grant and think of all of the times he cheated on me with Charity—the gaslighting. He never cared about me in anyway. That’s the crux of it, now. I know what it feels like to have someone care for me so desperately they’d lay down their life. Even if that is a Charge Man’s job, I know it was different with Nate because now Gray is here and that man gives no shits about anything.
Spinning the glass in my hand, I let my gaze flick to the camera before tipping my head back to drain the rest of the expensive liquid. It tastes better now because I have a new appreciation for all the things I once took for granted. Grant is stumbling around the room, debating if he wants to go swimming. “We’re not leaving the room, Grant. They’ll have to trail us and watch our every move. It’s not worth it. Fill up the bathtub and go swimming or something.” I’m flippant.
He clears his throat. Thank God. “Taking a pretty bitchy attitude with me, aren’t you? You better step in line after what I did for you. Or have you already forgotten?” I didn’t give him many details, because he didn’t care enough to listen, but he knows I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t for someone close to me. “Should I stop the automatic delivery and let your friend waste away?”
My neck is warm to the touch as I clasp it with my free hand. “No, Grant. I’m sorry.” The words are barely audible, but he hears. The grin he flashes, victorious.
“Speaking of, you could join me in the bathtub and we can kick off your payback.”
“Nothing is free, huh?” I muse to myself. “Sure, Grant. Whatever you want. You should call Charity in while we’re at it. Make it a real party.”
I regret the joke as soon as I say it because Grant looks like he’s contemplating it. “I’m joking. That was not part of the deal.”
The booze bottle is next to me on a nightstand, so I grab it and take it into the bathroom with my glass. Grant watches me refilling it. “You don’t want to do this.”
Rolling my eyes, I fill my glass to the top. “What gave you that idea?”
“One would assume you’d miss me after living in that fucking trailer park surrounded by inbred mountain folk.”
I seethe, grinding my teeth together. “You don’t even know those people. Don’t talk shit.” Swallowing a few sips, I wait for the spins, hoping they take me down so I won’t have to remember any of this night. Let him do with me what he wants. Nothing matters anymore. I don’t belong anywhere.
Grant takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the counter behind me. He runs his hands up my arms and cups my face. “Charity never fights me when I fuck her. I want you to fight me.” His breath smells like death—a combination of alcohol and a chemical-like drug scent. My stomach heaves, recalling my past. I close my eyes, hard, a tear rolls down my cheek. For Felix, I think. Not for the man who lied to me and left me. The betrayal stings whenever I think about anything that reminds me of him. Even now, here with Grant, is a reminder of my feelings for the man. Grant kisses my neck and my collarbone, but my body doesn’t react. My senses are dull, and my mind is fuzzy. I pick up the glass while he’s preoccupied and take another big swallow, not even tasting it this time.
There’s a luncheon tomorrow morning downstairs in one of the ballrooms. I’ll see my mom. No one could tell me when she was arriving, due to security reasons. I wonder if she’s here now. If she is, I’m sure she’s taking advantage of the five-star luxuries she’s been without for so long. They’re letting us order in anything we want. A consolation prize for having a felon for a family member and being forced into another life. I close off my mind to Grant and let him have what he wants, my dress sliding off my shoulders to pool at my waist.
“You have to play ball, Presley,” Grant says.
I swallow hard. “I am.”
“No, you’re like a cold, dead snake.”
Snapping my teeth together, I hiss, “Get the fuck off me, you perv!”
He smiles, grabbing my hips tighter. “That’s right, you cunt.”
Another tear slides down my cheek, and he bites my nipple. I pull back with a yelp. “That hurt!” I wail.
“Oh, did it?” Grant leans in and bites the other breast just as hard. This time he draws blood. He’s gotten rougher, an evil glint flickering behind his eye. He’s not playing anymore. Hewantsto hurt me. There’s a half second where I contemplate going with it so I don’t make waves, or piss him off, but then, he hits me. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough that my head hits the wall. “Did that hurt too?”
I grab the side of my throbbing head. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Grant? That actually hurt.”
“Of course it did. I wanted it to. Now kiss me you slut.”
The alcohol is hitting me all at once, and I feel sluggish.This is what you wanted,my mind whispers.Just pass out.Pay him back.I’m vaguely aware there is pounding on the door.
Grant vanishes, leaving me to slump against the wall. I hold my head between my knees and fight the spins. Closing my eyes, I hear Gray’s voice calling my name. Over and over. Wincing, I look up to see him standing over me, holding the tray of cocaine. “How much did you take?”
