Beyond Repair (Broken Girl Book 1) (5 page)

I heave the last box from the truck and drop it onto the sidewalk, bringing my hand to my forehead and wiping the hot moisture away. As happy as I am that my stuff is finally here, I'm not really digging this heavy lifting. All of my 'friends' were surprisingly busy today.
Fancy that
. At least I have Joe here to help me. He showed up at a ridiculous hour this morning and has been hauling boxes upstairs ever since. I had hoped that Kate would have come with him, and helped to organize my things the way she organizes everything else, but she didn't show. She's apparently still pissed at me over Lydia. She hasn't said a word to me since I left the apartment that day and according to Joe, she isn't planning on changing that anytime soon. I'm getting sick of this shit. Kate is the only family I have left in the world, so we shouldn't be letting some crazy chick come between us. Even if that crazy chick is Lydia Baker, her best friend.

"Are you gonna just stare at this stuff, or actually move it up the stairs?"

I let out a snorted laugh at Joe's words, but don't reply. My mood has soured, the way it always does when Lydia crosses my mind. Every night, for the past three nights, I've seen her face. Not the happy, overly made up, bitch on legs one. No, I saw those big blue eyes filled with unshed tears, that full bottom lip trembling, and heard her barely there voice as she asked for help. It churned in my gut, leaving a foul taste in my mouth. What happened to her? There are too many unanswered questions surrounding that girl, but I daren't ask. I don't want to know, because knowledge is dangerous and ignorance is bliss. I have no reason to delve into the inner workings of her psychotic mind. No reason at all. I just wish I could convince my brain of that.

I lift a couple of boxes to distract myself and step inside the building, taking the elevator up to my loft. I dump the box in the lounge area and look around. It's not a big place, but it’s big enough for me. Simple, with pale blue walls, deep oak furniture and a black leather couch. I didn't decorate it, the place came furnished. Luckily, I know the landlord so the rent is crazy cheap. It will suffice until I can buy a place. I flick on the AC as Joe joins me with the last box.

"So when do you start at the Mayor's office?"

I turn to him and offer a weak smile. Mayor Baker had called me up yesterday to ask if I was interested in a PR position at his offices. Public Relations is what I've always done, since college, so obviously I accepted. A small part of me is hesitant though, and I can't for the life of me figure out why.

"Monday," I grunt, lifting the first of many unorganized boxes onto the small dining table.

Joe's mouth presses into a flat line as he nods stiffly. I know he isn't exactly overjoyed about my new job. I imagine it has something to do with what Kate was hinting at the other day. Our Mayor is not the hero everyone thinks he is.
What could she have meant by that?
  Which, of course, brings me back to Lydia. Why does everything come back to her? After a few minutes of awkward silence, I thank Joe and he leaves the loft. Using the scissors, I cut the tape off the box and begin the grueling task of unpacking.

"You've got to admit though, man. As old as she is, she's pretty fucking hot."

My eyes shoot to the sky and roll. I've been listening to Dale and Jack go on and on about the women in town for the past hour. I only wanted a quick beer when I met them at the bar over two hours ago. I was starting to regret the decision to leave the loft now though. I love my friends, and missed them whilst I was away, but it takes a certain kind of mood to deal with their nonsense. They didn't grow up like I have, so they still spend their days discussing the size of a woman's breasts and how many beers they can drink in three minutes. Dale lets out a loud scoff at Jack's words.

"Fuck off. Half the town has been through Kathy Yates," he laughs, shooting back another drink and pointing to jack with his now empty glass. "Including you, bro."

A laugh escapes me at that comment, the memory clear as day in my mind. It was known all over town that Jack lost his V Card to Kathy the day after his eighteenth birthday. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget the sight of his bare ass bobbing up and down in the back seat of his car.
Real subtle
.

“Alright alright,” Jack sighs. “Who else we got?”

“Your cousin is pretty hot, Cal.”

I glance at Dale and raise my eyebrow. Was he really going to go there? Kate has always been off bounds with my friend. Just no. She’s too good, too pure, for the likes of them.

“You know she’s married now, right?” I laugh. “And he’d kick your ass.”

“Not before that crazy best friend of hers,” Dale laughs. My body tenses, just the mention of her name setting my senses to overdrive and forcing the broken images of her to filter through my mind. He continues, unaware of my current state. “Did you hear she was back in down?”

“Yeah I saw her in town yesterday,” Jack starts. “Now that’s what you call hot. Man the things I’d do to that girl.”

Jack nods agreeably whilst I try to calm the sudden rage burning through me. For some unknown and foreign reason, the idea of them two anywhere near Lydia does not fill me with happy thoughts.

“I’m gonna grab another round,” I mutter, then leave them and head to the bar.

Roy sidles up to me, a familiar frown on his old face.

“What can I get ya, kid?”

“Three beers, Roy. Thanks.”

He nods once, then disappears to retrieve my order. I turn and rest my back against the bar, glancing at the rest of the place. Same people, different day. It’s like the whole town is just on a standstill, Groundhog Day of the masses. It should depress me, drive me crazy after living in a city for so long. Instead, it soothes me, it comforts me and I’m beginning to regret leaving altogether. I thought it was this place holding me down, so I registered at a college in California and didn’t look back. College was great, it’s just the rest that was fucked. Cerys, the company, everything. It isn’t home. It never was. So, now I’m back where I was born and I will make it work. Starting with Kate. This fighting shit with my family is about to come to a dramatic end because I’ve damn well had enough of it.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Hell fucking no.
I fix a skeptical gaze on Kate, who snorts a knowing laugh. We've been at this for two hours now, her refusing to leave it alone. Apparently, my epic meltdown last week means I need a chaperone.
Fantastic.
I love her, and I appreciate everything she does for me. I just need a break. I need solitude, peace and to get laid. I really need to get laid. Which is difficult when your best friend is breathing down your neck and telling you how you shouldn't be participating in meaningless sex. Poor Kitty is a romantic soul, she doesn't really understand the carnal need to find sexual release with an equal minded individual, who you never need to talk to again. Casual sex is the best. No awkward small talk, no obligatory call to arrange a bullshit 'thanks for fucking me' date, and definitely no exchange of personal baggage. Just nice, friendly, ego soothing sex. Kitty is all about meeting the one, getting married and having kids. The whole white picket fence production. Kudos for her, she’s got it and I can't wait for little Kate-Joe hybrid babies to be running around. Aunt Lyds is gonna rock it. Having children just isn’t part of my future. What kind of mother would I make?

"So, Kitty..." I say, smiling wide and focusing my attention back to her and the problem at hand. "Where can a girl get a penis to sit on around here now?"

The coffee that was in her mouth suddenly splutters out of it, spraying all over the dining room table. It's a good job we're in her house and not mine right now, or I'd be crying from the mess. I jump up and out of direct line, effectively saving my white shorts from falling victim to coffee stains. Hell. No. I grab a paper towel from the counter and begin to mop up the mess.

"Christ Lyds, you need your own warning sign."

I laugh, "Like what? Warning: Horny lunatic, coming this way."

"Lydia," she warns. "Don't call yourself a lunatic."

I offer her a weak smile with my automatic eye roll. She hates the way I joke about my mental health. She's forever complaining at me about referring to myself as "crazy". But I am crazy. Certifiably so. I came to terms with that a long time ago, long before I was released from the nut farm, so it's probably about time she did too. I dump the dirty paper towel in the trash and wash my hands before returning to my seat at the table. In the distance, I hear the front door opening and closing, Joe and Callum's voices echoing through. Shit! I haven't spoken to Callum since he found me pathetically rocking in the corner of my room.
Way to look hot, Lyds.
I shouldn't care, I know that, but I do. I really do. And I really don't want to see his judgey, but still spectacular, eyes penetrating my broken psychosis.
Talk about needing a warning sign
. The man has a way of looking right through me. He
always
has. I hated it when I was a kid. I hated the way he'd stare at all my insecurities, bringing them front and center. Now, I despise it even more. My insecurities are much bigger than they once were and I really can’t handle them being brought up for close inspection, especially by the captain of the ‘Lydia is a Dick Committee’. Their voices get louder so I shoot a quick glance to Kate, hoping that she’ll interpret it as "Oh shit, I'm panicking" because my pulse is officially racing. The annoyingly familiar itch crawls up my body, the spiky claws of anxiety choking my reason. Damn it, why can't I just be normal for once? Why can't I just react like a reasonable, rational person? I silently plead with myself to calm down but once again, my senses are on overdrive. The need to run really fucking far away is taking over.

"Where are your pills?" Kate whisper-shouts to me, pulling my attention away from the downward spiral threatening to suck me in.

For a second, my mind goes blank. I've left the little white beauties in my damn purse. I dash to the lounge, I spot my prize on the coffee table and begin to rifle through it.
Where the fuck are they?

"Hey, Little Bit."

Damn it.
Breath, Lydia
. Be aloof. Be calm. Be less of a crazy fuckwit.
Got them!
I stand up straight, clutch the bottle in my hand as if it might run away anytime soon, and turn to face them. Joe offers me an apologetic smile before rushing away from line of fire and up the stairs. Smart guy. He knows how temperamental my moods can be. I look up at Callum, and yes
up
as he's stupidly fucking tall. His eyes are boring into me, soft and full of pity.
Please don't pity me
. I don't need sympathy, or empathy. I need him to look at me with the same mild disappointment and discontent as usual.

He doesn't like me, hell, I think he hates me.
Join the club, buddy
. I know he blames me for a lot of the shit I pulled Kate into when we were kids, plus the way I rely on her so much. I know though, that a 'townie' like him could never understand our friendship, or understand that she sees all of me and not just the obvious shit. He'll never see that she's my other half, that we're practically soul mates, except for the banging obviously. I love her, but I don't
love
her. Besides, she gets a pretty good seeing to by Joe the Professor.
Insert eyebrow wiggle here
. But if I was a lesbian, I'd rock her world for sure. My free hand begins to scratch at my arm, the itch becoming infernal. I force the best smile I can muster, which to him probably means I look more crazy than usual.

"Callum," I greet, my voice sounding tight and squeaky in my head.
That's perfect
.

A smile touches the corner of his mouth, but goes no further. At least I can take comfort in the knowledge that he feels as awkward as me.

"How are you?" He asks.

Um... what? This man has never, ever, asked how I am. He doesn't care. He just wants to play nice as Kitty isn't his best pal right now. Fucked if I know why, something must have happened whilst I was taking my nap last week, but they haven't spoken since and she won't tell me why. I shift from one flip flop to the other. Wow, this is super uncomfortable.

"Uh, yeah. I'm peachy keen," I reply, then reluctantly ask him how he is.

He releases a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. The action causes the dress shirt he's wearing to rise, giving me a glimpse of the toned muscle underneath. My already whimpering libido screams at me, but as pretty as Callum is, he's a no go. Also why is his ass in a suit? He looks good in suit. I bet he'd look better out of it mind you.

"What are you doing here?"

Kitty's voice brings me back to the here and now. I spin to face her, almost gasping at the venom lacing her voice. I've never seen her look, or sound, so angry.
What the hell did I miss?
Her eyes are narrowed on him, jaw clenching as her hands fist on her hips. She looks about ready to kick some serious ass right now, which is awesome, as Kitty for sure isn't the fighting type. This should be entertaining. Still, I'm almost certain I need to know what's going on, although I imagine he deserves her rage. Maybe I should offer to kick his ass for her. He's a humongous ass-clown. I have a special piece of paper that says "sorry I'm insane and couldn't help myself" so there isn’t much the cops can do, should he decide to pussy out and call them. He seems the type to tattle. He was forever running off to my dad when we were kids, hence my strong dislike for him right now.

"I came to see you," Callum replies to Kate, his voice softer than I expected.

She lets out a snort and walks further into the room, her arm reaching out to touch mine. The gesture screams with questioning.
Are you okay? Are you about to lose your shit? Do you need a sedative?
Although why she's silently asking me if I'm alright is a mystery. She's the one who looks like the Orgasm Grinch has stolen all her battery powered boyfriends. Oh my, could you imagine the horror? Her eyes flick from my own to the treasure chest of clear thinking in my hand. I follow her gaze. Oh.
Hello metaphorical light bulb
. Pills, insanity, meltdown, usual shit. How did I manage to forget I was about to explode into a cloud of anxiety goodness?

"I'm good, chill. I'm as happy as a whore in a crack-house," I say, then look between the two of them. "But you, my perfect little love kitten, are not. What's going on?"

She ignores my question and fixes Callum with a solid I wish you would spontaneously combust stare. Ouch.

"How's the new job?"

New job? What the hell has that got to do with anything? Come on, Kitty. Although, I guess that explains the suit. The delicious, perfectly tailored suit...
Damn it, Lyds
. I silence my sultry thoughts. Not appropriate. At all. I watch the space between the two of them for a second more before stepping back and slumping down on the sofa. Since I'm obviously not an active participant in this conversation, I guess I'll just sit back and take in the show. The bottle of pills in my hand rattles as I shift to get comfortable, and causes them both to look at me. I give it a dramatic shake for good measure.

"Don't mind me," I sigh. "Just going to sit here and watch this play out. Kitty, my money's on you baby."

I offer her a wink, ignoring the frustrated sigh Callum lets out, and pop two little white drops of sanity into my throat.

"The job is fine," Callum all but growls at Kitty as she brings her attention back to him. "I'm not here to talk about that. I'm here to talk about why the hell you think it's okay to forget I exist."

"As far as I'm concerned, whilst you're working there, you don't exist in my life."

I wonder what the big deal is with his job. Can it really be that bad that it’s affecting them this much? I thought I was the queen of over-reacting. The champion of melodramatics. I've officially been knocked off my perch. Well damn, I don't have much else going for me. What was he doing? Selling organs? Sexual favors? Strip-o-gram?

"Quick question," I interject, before my mind can conjure up the image of Callum wearing nothing but that damn slimline tie.
Oh boy
. Too late. And what a pretty image it is. "What's the new gig? You know, so I can keep up. I feel like I've missed an episode or two of Cousin Rivalry: The Later Years."

"Mayor's office," Kitty spits out through gritted teeth.

You-fucking-what?

World stopping news, right there. Surely he isn't that stupid. That place will ruin him, more than the town already has. Thank all that's holy I've already taken my medication, because just the mention of that place causes me to wobble. There is nothing good behind those doors, nothing. It's like the Bermuda Triangle. Decent people go in, devil’s walk out. They're soul-sucking shadows of themselves, caring about nothing but the green lining their pockets. I thought Callum was better than that. He got out, left this pathetic town for better things. Now that he has returned, he's falling into their backward way of thinking. Just another nail in the do not fuck Callum coffin.

"You're fucking with me, right?"

Kate shoots me a withered look at the whispered words I hadn't realized I said aloud.

"Oh yeah," she starts, the sarcasm lacing through her voice. "Cal's new job is to tell the world just how awesome Mayor Baker is."

"Wow," I breathe, then cast my eyes to him. "You really are an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"I know you're tippity-top of the Mark Baker Fan Club, but that man will destroy any shred of humanity you have," I stand and grab my purse, not wanting to be in the same room as someone so close to the asshole who shares my blood. "Kitty, I'll call you later."

She offers me a small wave and then I rush out of there. Callum Reeves was already a hell-to-the-fuck no, but now he's a not-even-if-the-human-race-depended-on-it no. Being in the same room as him just isn't an option anymore. I can't risk him bleeding my business to my father, I can't risk him seeing too much. Not now he's there, with him. I almost make it to my car before I hear him call my name. Damn it. I need to learn to move faster. Reluctantly, I turn to face him.

"Yeah?"

"What's the issue here, Little Bit?"

Please don't call me that
. I don't even know why is does, or why it started. He's called me Little Bit forever. I usually find it endearing, comforting, kinda cool, but not anymore. Now I know for sure he really is one of them, I don't want him to call me anything other than Lydia. Hell, I'd be alright if he didn't speak to me at all anymore. Yes, that's better. Let's make that happen.