Page 12 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

Bailey:How many times have I apologized to you? How many times have I apologized to Jaine?

Jessie:Listen, I have some documents I need to drop off for Razr. Let me know what day works best and I’ll pick you up from the clubhouse at the same time. Love you, Little Bee.

Bailey:Love you too, Jay.

I smileat the message exchange with my twenty-two-year-old baby sister before placing my phone in my jeans pocket and filling the coffee press with boiling water.

Bee’s eight years my junior and is currently living love’s young dream. Well, I say young. Her boyfriend, Paul Delaney, is eleven years older than her. So, I guess it’s love’s young/old dream or something like that.

Still, they deserve their shot at happiness after everything they went through to be together. Bee losing her almost-fiancé, Raf Flores in a shoot-out and Razr being pretty much declared insane by high-rankers in the medical profession. Not that we all weren’t already aware of that or at least suspected it.

My daddy took a lot of convincing before he reluctantly agreed to part with the hand of his youngest on account of just how mentally unstable Razr is.

Or was.

In his defense, even I can see a marked improvement in him these days. Down to sheer determination on his part? Rehab? My baby sister? Likely a combination of all three. He will forever be a work in progress, though.

I push down the filter and gaze around my open-plan living area. The kitchen is white high gloss with all the latest mod-cons. Everything in the apartment is white, glass, or mirrored.

Simple. Minimalistic. Clean.

My brain is so active most of the time I need this oasis of tranquility to be able to switch off. To balance. To breathe. To unwind.

To just be me.

I inhale. I’ve been here months, and it still smells like fresh paint. It’s a clean smell. A new-start smell.

New start of what, though? My life? When nothing fundamental has changed? When nothing ever does or likely ever will? It’s the same life I was leading in Vegas.

Just a different location. A different view.

Perfectly lonely.

Am I envious of my baby sister’s newfound happiness? Is it wrong of me to admit that I am?

I mean, who do I have aside from a handful of close friends and my family? At the ripe old age of thirty I’ve never once had a serious significant other.

The smile fades from my face as my good mood evaporates, and I let out a long sigh.

From the outside looking in, most could be forgiven for thinking I have it all. All anyone ever sees is the over-confident, outspoken, and gregarious Jessie O’Brien with her successful career, own company, and own apartment.

They see what’s on the surface. Nothing more. It’s all anyone has ever seen. In fairness, I accept that’s in part because it’s all I’ve ever allowed anyone to see. But then no one’s ever shown any interest in getting to know the person underneath the shiny, exuberant exterior.

If they did, maybe they’d realize that the girl who claims she wants to be the center of attention doesn’t always crave the spotlight. That maybe all she really wants is the one thing she’s never had. The attention of that one special person.

Because what does all the success and material stuff matter when you have no one to share it with?

Still, I shouldn’t complain or throw myself a pity party. I’m sure if it’s in God’s big old masterplan it will happen for me, same as it did for Bee.

My thoughts then drift to him. My complete opposite in pretty much every way. Well, apart from in the looks department, even though he tries his darndest to hide his male hotness underneath clothes he looks like he borrowed from his daddy.

Dylan O’Connell.

All those months ago. An instant connection of whatever the fuck it was. Whatever the fuck it still is, at least on my part. Given he’s hankering over some blonde, it’s obviously no longer the case for him. Then again, it likely never was. It was just wishful thinking.

For me, he’s he who must be avoided at all costs, which is no mean feat given he lives in the penthouse above. Still, I’ve managed to stay out of his way since moving here. I’ve turned it into quite the art form too. Spying around corners and creeping around like a ninja. Is he also avoiding me? Is that the reason it's been relatively easy to achieve?

Most likely. I mean, who needs an awkward confrontation?

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