Get off on the Pain
Page 41

Sucks for me . . .
ACE OPENS THE DOOR RIGHT as I walk up and reach for it. He gives me his devilishly handsome smile, showing his dimples as he snakes his arm around my shoulder. “Morning, Angel.”
He’s lucky I’m in a halfway decent mood this morning. He’s always so damn happy to see me; especially this early, and it usually makes me want to punch him in his junk.
“Morning,” I mumble. I look around for Styles and don’t see him. I didn’t think I noticed his car in the parking lot. “Where’s Styles?”
Ace raises an eyebrow and tilts his head toward the door as Styles walks in looking half dead. “Here’s the walking liquor bottle now.” He walks over and slaps him on the back, causing Styles to look up and grunt. “What’s wrong, big man? The party didn’t go well or you just went on an all night drinking binge?”
I release a small laugh unable to hold it back, as Styles attempts to sit in his chair, almost missing it. I forgot that his old college buddy was in town and he was throwing a big party for him.
“Fuck off,” Styles says with a grin. “It was the greatest night of my damn life.” He smiles real big as Ace dances up to him and pounds his fist to congratulate him.
“Alright, man.” He backs away. “I’m all ears after this first client. It sounds like you had a hell of a night.”
I shake my head at the boys and walk toward my room. “I’ll be setting up, Styles. If anyone comes in for me just send them back.”
He leans back in his chair and grins like a fool. “Yup.”
After I clean up and get everything organized, I pull out my drawing and just stare at it. I get a sense of pride and I can’t help but to smile. Now that Memphis has pointed out how awesome this looks, it’s easier for me to see it too. I didn’t think it was anything to be proud of. I guess it’s always because I felt I was never good enough.
I carefully place the drawing back into my drawer and stand up from the desk.
“Lyric.”
My blood runs cold at the sound of the deep voice coming from the doorway. I haven’t heard that voice in person for over six months.
I force myself to turn toward the door, and when my eyes set on him I can feel the anger building up. He’s standing there in his stupid expensive suit as if he’s royalty and the world should bow to his fucking feet.
He thinks he’s so fucking powerful, and that he can get anyone to listen to him. He’s wrong. Mother wouldn’t do it. That’s why she left . . . and I won’t do it either.
He tried to make me into what he wanted. He treated me as if I were the little boy he always wanted. The only time he paid any attention to me is when he was teaching me how to fight or making me watch.
“What do you want? Running low on people to do your dirty work?” I growl out.
His dark hair is slicked back, laced with a hint of gray now. I hate looking at him. Seeing him makes me wish that I gave him up when I had the chance. I should have, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t because he is my only family and I was . . . scared of being alone.
He smiles and steps further into the room, closing the door behind him. “I’m here to see my daughter. You haven’t returned my call in months. You didn’t think I was going to give up that easily . . . did you?”
I let out a sarcastic laugh and roll my eyes. “And you didn’t answer me my whole life. You tell me how the hell it feels to not be wanted. Does it feel good?”
“Dammit, Lyric.” He steps up close to me and grabs my arm, squeezing. “I always wanted you. It was you that didn’t want me. Why can’t you see that? You pushed me away after your mother ran off on us.” He squeezes harder and gets in my face. “I raised you the best I knew how.”
I jerk my arm away from him and focus on not wanting to kill him. He’s wrong. He always does this. He always tries to manipulate me and make me feel as if it’s my fault that he wasn’t in my life. Well fuck him.
“What are you doing here, father? I have work to do. I don’t have time for your shit.”
He takes a deep breath and I can tell he’s trying to push back his anger. He’s not used to people refusing to listen to him. He’s used to getting everything he wants. “I want you to come have dinner with me so we can spend some time together. Whether you believe it or not . . . I miss you.”
I shake my head and bite my bottom lip. I want to scream at him and tell him to fuck off. I don’t need him, but a part of me feels bad for him. No one truly respects him. They all fear him. He’s alone in this world and he expects me to love him, when really I just despise him. “Are you still in the business?”
He steps up to me and grabs for my hand. “Lyric, let’s not talk about that. There are plenty other topics of conversation.”
I yank my arm out of his reach. “Then the answer is no. Do you not realize that you ruined my damn life, that I had feds constantly hounding me to give you up when you ran from Chicago? They contacted me again four months ago. It’s never fucking going to end. Do you get that?” I shove him toward the door. “You wanted me to fight. Well here.” I point at the door. “Get out of my life.”
“Lyric.” He grits his teeth and gets ready to say something else, but the door opens and Bailey and Liam walk in.
My father just shakes his head and fixes his suit, while walking toward the door. “I’ll be back, Lyric. I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me. You’ve got one week.”
I look to Bailey, who is staring my father up and down as if she thinks he’s hot. Fucking gross. I then turn back to my father. “Goodbye,” is all I say before shutting the door. I can’t do it. I won’t. He’s no good. He ruins lives. That’s all he’s ever been good for: hurt, pain, and suffering.
ALEX PUTS HIS TRUCK IN park and we both just sit in silence for a while, neither one of us making an effort to move. This will be the first time that we have both come here together. It hurts. I admit it. It feels as if my heart is being ripped straight from my chest. I can tell he feels it too. I can see it in his expression.
This place is my weakness, the one place I allow myself to feel vulnerable. My walls crumble here, making me feel useless, and making it hard for me to breathe. I need to push it aside to be strong for Alex—for my mother.