Life After Taylah
Page 5

“I know.”
He raises both brows this time. “Then why did you ask?”
“Curiosity.”
He tilts his head. “Did you think I’d give you a fake name?”
I rub my hands over my cool legs. It’s slowly cooling down as the year goes on.  Winter isn’t far off. “Maybe, or perhaps I just needed confirmation.”
He drops the cigarette he’s smoking, and crushes it out with his boot. I watch as he moves, and I can’t help but admire the way his black tee pulls across his muscled chest. Nate would have to have a serious amount of upper body strength to be able to hold onto bikes the way he does.
“So, you know Liam, then?”
I frown. “He’s my brother.”
“No shit,” he murmurs, running a hand over the light stubble on his chin.
“And how do you know Liam?”
He shrugs. “Met him through Kelly.”
“And you know Kelly, how?”
He laughs softly. “Inquisitive little thing, aren’t you?”
I give him a half-smile. “Sure, you could say that.”
“I know Kelly through my brother. He is a pro-surfer, and he competes with him. We all just kind of got along.”
I nod. “Who is your brother?”
“Keanu Alexander.”
My mouth drops open. “No shit.”
He looks impressed. “The lady knows my brother.”
“I’ve seen him compete with Kelly. He’s amazing.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“So are you,” I add, feeling the need to clarify that. “I’ve been watching you race for the past two years.”
“So has ninety-nine percent of the female population.”
I giggle, and then slap a hand over my mouth. I haven’t heard a giggle leave my throat for so long, the sound shocks me. Nate smiles at me and points to the seat, asking if it’s okay for him to sit. I nod, and he walks over, doing just that. I can smell him now he’s this close. He smells like cigarettes and beer, but the smell isn’t bad, it’s kind of comforting. Before my dad become hard and withdrawn, he used to smell like that.
“So, what kind of dancing do you do?” he asks.
“Ballet.”
He looks me over, his green eyes piercing into mine. “I can see that. You’ve got the right look.”
“And what look is that?” I ask, frowning.
He grins. “Don’t get huffy. You just look as beautiful as a ballerina should look. You’re . . . dainty.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “I can’t decide if you’re complimenting me or insulting me.”
He laughs loudly. “It’s a compliment.” He presses a hand over his heart. “Swear.”
“Liam is looking for you.”
I lift my head at the sound of the voice behind us and see Kelly entering the courtyard. He’s got a beer in his hand, and he’s giving Nate a look. The look—the one that says what the hell are you doing?
“Thanks.”
I stand and turn to Nate, smiling down at him. “It was nice to meet you, Nathaniel.”
He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Call me Nate, and I didn’t catch your name.”
I grin. “You figure it out.”
I turn and walk up to Kelly, placing my hand on his shoulder softly before stepping past him.
“Goodnight, Dancer!” Nate yells.
I smile the entire way into the unit.
~*~*~*~
“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Avie?” Liam mutters, lighting a cigarette and buttoning up his jeans.
I stare sadly at my brother. He grew into a lovely-looking man, but he’s damaged himself. Deeply. He’s an asshole, he treats women badly and drugs are doing some serious harm to him. His once gorgeous, blond hair is ratty and forming dreadlocks. His blue eyes—the eyes just like Momma’s—are dull and lifeless. His skin has a constant grey tinge. The only thing he’s got going is the fact that he’s muscled and well built—and I have no doubt that’s because of steroids.
“I wanted to see you,” I say, walking into his room and cringing at the smell. “I called and you never answered. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Been busy,” he mutters, inhaling deeply and blowing out big grey puffs into the air.
“Liam,” I begin.
“Don’t,” he growls. “I don’t need your fuckin’ pity, Avie. It’s the only reason you’re here. You feel sorry for me. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. I’m fine; I’m doing fine.”
“You’re not fine, Liam,” I sigh. “You’re living in a dump and you look like hell.”
“Well,” he mutters, “not all of us are fuckin’ perfect like you, Avery. We don’t all get Daddy’s money, and we’re not all set up with Prince Charming to live a rich and happy life.”
I flinch and instantly become defensive.
“Dad got you this apartment, which was once worth a lot of money. He helps me with dancing because I give him enough respect to let him.”
“You’re his fuckin’ pride, Avery. He got me this apartment, but it’s nothing on the luxury you fuckin’ live in. You’re worthless without him; at least I’m having a go on my own, not leeching off him and his faggot sidekick.”
My jaw grinds and I struggle to keep calm. “I come here every week. I call you; I give you most of the money Dad gives me. I don’t keep any of it, Liam. I work for my money; I pay my rent, even though Dad doesn’t want it. I’m doing the right thing—what you’re doing is hurting me over nothing. I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to . . .”