Read Online Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) by Lena Bourne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lena Bourne
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procedures," she mutters, sounding like she's speaking to herself. "But I had to…"
"Why?"
"Because I believe your brother is unstable and with the way his anger is focused on you, you could be in danger," she says breathlessly. "You need to be careful."
"A bit late for warnings," I say. "That boat has sailed."
"How so?" she asks.
"Not really something I’ll talk to you about," I say. "Why couldn't you just keep him locked up?"
"He was deemed fit for release by a colleague," she says. "There was nothing I could do."
"Well, goodbye then," I say.
"Wait, don't hang up!" she yells so loudly I have to hold the phone away from my ear. "Whatever you do, don't aggravate him to the point that would make him lose control. Go along with his wishes, at least on the surface. Try to get him to seek counseling. I can recommend some good psychiatrists."
I laugh. "Me trying to get him to see a shrink would aggravate him completely. Believe me, I've been there."
I wish things were so simple. That I could just get Mike into therapy and all would be back to normal. But going along with his plans has already made me more of a criminal than I ever was, and only pretending to do it could get Gail killed.
"Thanks for calling, anyway," I say. "But it's really too late."
I hang up, not wanting her to give me any more false hope, because I really can't take any more disappointments.
She calls back, sends me a couple of texts with shrink names when I don’t pick up. I guess she feels better having warned me now, but it sure as hell hasn't done much for me.
Mike is double parked when I come down a few minutes after seven, arguing with some deliveryman.
"You took your fucking time," he snarls at me, pulling out so fast the guy has to jump back to avoid getting hit. The whole thing does not faze Mike in the slightest.
"Where are we going?" I ask pointedly.
"Vlado's holding a little dinner party." He eyes me up and down. "I told you to dress up."
I shrug. I had tried, but most of my old clothes still don't fit me. Though I lost some serious weight in the last few weeks.
"I'm not really in the mood for a dinner party," I say as though that's enough to get me out of it.
Mike digs in his pocket and tosses a small vial into my lap. "Do some of this. It'll improve your mood."
It's his coke, and I set it on the dashboard. "I don't feel like it."
"Suit yourself," he says, and grabs it, does a hit while we're stopped at a red light. I might be worried normally, but I'm kinda hoping we'll crash. And these death wishes should frighten me more, I know that too, but they don’t.
"You haven't told Dad and Derek that you're out, did you?" I ask after a while.
Mike shakes his head. "They don't need to know just yet, and I can't really deal with all the family drama right now. They think I'm still inside. I call from time to time."
I turn to him sharply. "You're pretending to still be locked up? You realize they fucking disowned me for not helping you with the shrink bullshit."
I probably shouldn't be yelling at him about this. Dr. Krauss' warning not to antagonize him is echoing somewhere deep in my brain. But it's not very loud.
"You should've been eager to help me, Scott," Mike says, chuckling. "Consider this some more punishment for that. But I'll tell them all we're cool eventually."
My throat is clenched so tight, I can hardly get a breath in. I have to squeeze my hands together in my lap to prevent myself from making him crash the fucking car. I don't know how much more I can hate him before I have to do something about it.
But it can't be now, because we're finally being let into the garage of a tall Upper West Side building and I've never been less hungry or less in the mood to socialize than right now.
Mike parks the car and walks to the elevator like he owns the place, and I follow a few steps behind, trying not to let any thought linger.
The elevator door opens right into the penthouse. Vlado strides over
"Why?"
"Because I believe your brother is unstable and with the way his anger is focused on you, you could be in danger," she says breathlessly. "You need to be careful."
"A bit late for warnings," I say. "That boat has sailed."
"How so?" she asks.
"Not really something I’ll talk to you about," I say. "Why couldn't you just keep him locked up?"
"He was deemed fit for release by a colleague," she says. "There was nothing I could do."
"Well, goodbye then," I say.
"Wait, don't hang up!" she yells so loudly I have to hold the phone away from my ear. "Whatever you do, don't aggravate him to the point that would make him lose control. Go along with his wishes, at least on the surface. Try to get him to seek counseling. I can recommend some good psychiatrists."
I laugh. "Me trying to get him to see a shrink would aggravate him completely. Believe me, I've been there."
I wish things were so simple. That I could just get Mike into therapy and all would be back to normal. But going along with his plans has already made me more of a criminal than I ever was, and only pretending to do it could get Gail killed.
"Thanks for calling, anyway," I say. "But it's really too late."
I hang up, not wanting her to give me any more false hope, because I really can't take any more disappointments.
She calls back, sends me a couple of texts with shrink names when I don’t pick up. I guess she feels better having warned me now, but it sure as hell hasn't done much for me.
Mike is double parked when I come down a few minutes after seven, arguing with some deliveryman.
"You took your fucking time," he snarls at me, pulling out so fast the guy has to jump back to avoid getting hit. The whole thing does not faze Mike in the slightest.
"Where are we going?" I ask pointedly.
"Vlado's holding a little dinner party." He eyes me up and down. "I told you to dress up."
I shrug. I had tried, but most of my old clothes still don't fit me. Though I lost some serious weight in the last few weeks.
"I'm not really in the mood for a dinner party," I say as though that's enough to get me out of it.
Mike digs in his pocket and tosses a small vial into my lap. "Do some of this. It'll improve your mood."
It's his coke, and I set it on the dashboard. "I don't feel like it."
"Suit yourself," he says, and grabs it, does a hit while we're stopped at a red light. I might be worried normally, but I'm kinda hoping we'll crash. And these death wishes should frighten me more, I know that too, but they don’t.
"You haven't told Dad and Derek that you're out, did you?" I ask after a while.
Mike shakes his head. "They don't need to know just yet, and I can't really deal with all the family drama right now. They think I'm still inside. I call from time to time."
I turn to him sharply. "You're pretending to still be locked up? You realize they fucking disowned me for not helping you with the shrink bullshit."
I probably shouldn't be yelling at him about this. Dr. Krauss' warning not to antagonize him is echoing somewhere deep in my brain. But it's not very loud.
"You should've been eager to help me, Scott," Mike says, chuckling. "Consider this some more punishment for that. But I'll tell them all we're cool eventually."
My throat is clenched so tight, I can hardly get a breath in. I have to squeeze my hands together in my lap to prevent myself from making him crash the fucking car. I don't know how much more I can hate him before I have to do something about it.
But it can't be now, because we're finally being let into the garage of a tall Upper West Side building and I've never been less hungry or less in the mood to socialize than right now.
Mike parks the car and walks to the elevator like he owns the place, and I follow a few steps behind, trying not to let any thought linger.
The elevator door opens right into the penthouse. Vlado strides over
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