Bram doesn’t say anything, which I guess is good. He just ignores me and I hope he can pretend I’m not there. He keeps driving.

And then I start talking. The moment I open my mouth, I know it’s a mistake, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“I got fired yesterday,” I say in between sobs. “A week away from my health insurance kicking in. My rent went up in my shitty, fucking apartment. My car doesn’t work. Now Ava’s sick. She’s really sick, and I have no idea how I’m going to pay for anything, how I’m going to help her get better, how I’m going to be a good mom. A good mom would have her life together but I don’t have anything. I’m just…useless. I can’t keep a job. I got an education in something passionate, not practical. I have nothing going for me but her and I don’t know how I’ll even keep her alive. I mean, I didn’t ask for this responsibility, I didn’t ask for it. But I promised I would take care of her and it’s like the world is testing me every moment it gets.” I pause and try to think of something positive to stop the tears, but there is nothing. “The insulin will cost me $300 a month. How can I pay for that when I could barely pay my rent before, let alone now without a job?”

The car is silent except for my shaky breath. A few moments pass, then Bram says, “What about your parents?”

It figures he would say that since he coasted by on his parents’ money for so long.

I swallow and shake my head. “No. No, my mom helps out doing what she can. She watches Ava twice a week. But she’s a fucking maid. I mean, if you knew her, if you knew me growing up, you’d never believe it. What she’s become. But she made a bunch of mistakes and now she’s lost it all and…she’s no better off than me.”

“I get it. And your father?”

“He’s a good guy.” I wipe my tears away with the palm of my hand. “But I talk to him once a month. He does a lot of charity work out in India and South East Asia. Whatever money he has, he gives.”

“So he could give to you.”

“It’s not the same,” I say. “He helps those in real need.”

“It sounds like you’re in need.”

I can feel his eyes boring into me. I stare down at my hands. “I wouldn’t ask him. I don’t want him to think I’m anything but okay.” I can see Bram nod out of the corner of my eye and the car is silent again and I’m feeling worse than before.

It’s not long before we’ve pulled up in front of my apartment building. Through the stream of tears I can see the usual crack bums and derelicts milling outside. They always get worse at night.

“I’m going to take you inside,” Bram says to me and his deep, rich voice tells me I’m not to argue. “I can’t believe you live here. You shouldn’t live here.”

I should feel insulted by that but I’m not. “I can’t believe it either,” I whisper. I step out of the car and with Bram standing watchfully between me and the junkies, I get Ava out of the seat. He quickly scoops up the booster, locks his car with a flashy display of his fancy alarm system, and we go inside.

Once in the lobby I reach for the seat to take it out of his hands but he holds firm. For once, the arrogant smirk is all gone and he’s damn serious.

“I’m taking you to your apartment,” he says. “I don’t trust this neighborhood, and believe me, I went to school in Glasgow. I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I say, still holding onto the seat.

“I don’t need to do anything,” he says. “I want to. I’m going to.”

“Your car…”

He glances out the glass door to the street. “My car is fine. I got a good look at them all and they know it. The alarm is loud. They wouldn’t dare.”

Reluctantly I let go of the seat and go up the stairs to the second floor. Outside my apartment I stop and take out my keys. I really don’t want him to see it or to come inside. It’s weird, but I feel like he’ll think he knows me if I do that, as if he could garner a glimpse of my soul from my furniture, art and framed photos. Though I guess after everything I just bawled to him in the car, he probably knows me enough by now.

“This is me,” I tell him, giving him a stiff smile and the unfriendly stare I do when I want someone to leave me alone.

He licks his lips and nods. “Okay.” He puts down the seat against the door. “I better get back home. But…listen.” He leans with one arm against the door and stares so deeply into my eyes I’m forced to listen. Hell, I’m practically hypnotized. “I know I’m probably not your favorite person and that’s okay. But I honestly think I can help you.”

“Help me?” I say, just a bit too loudly. Ava stirs her head on my shoulder.

He takes a business card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Call me. Tomorrow. And we’ll talk. I have a solution.” He looks at Ava’s sleeping body and then at me. “She has a good mum.” Then he walks down the hall and down the stairs.

He goes before I can thank him again.

CHAPTER FOUR

Bram

“Let me just wank off on your tits, babe,” I tell Astrid in a begging voice that I’m not too proud of.

She stares up at me, my cock in her hand, drool and precum at the corners of her wet lips. She’s too fucking gorgeous, even though that vapid stare of hers can be right creepy at times. I’m not keeping her around for her intelligence, that’s for sure. But considering how hard I’m trying to step away from my past, I hope for her sake she’s not into coke.

“Am I not good at sucking your dick?” she asks in a hurt little girl voice before wrapping her tongue around my throbbing head.

She is good. Bloody good. I have no doubts how she got that way either. Things I don’t want to think about, just like she’d rather not think about how my lips and tongue can get her coming faster than she can scream my name. But when I texted her this afternoon to come over and make me come, I was counting on fucking her on the floor. Or on the bed. Or anywhere, really.

But she’s got her period, and so, this will have to do. Now, I honestly don’t mind sex when a lady is on the rag. It’s messy and kind of hot. But she, like most girls, can’t fathom the idea. And it’s not like I’m not enjoying my BJ – again, she’s good. But the position, her on her knees, causes my mind to wander.

I don’t want it to do that. It’s been doing that a bit too much lately. About things I’ve tried to keep buried, things that keep surfacing in different ways.

Thankfully, I’m almost ready to come, so I pull out of her mouth and flip her around, pushing down on her shoulders so she’s on the ground. Then I stroke myself off and come all over her neck and shoulders, glad to have it over with.

“You’re a bit rough,” she says with a breathy giggle.

Why does everything have to be so fucking funny?

“Only because you love it,” I tell her. She pretty much loves everything I do and I think it’s for more reasons than just what I can do in bed. Money speaks louder than a lot of things. “Stay put.”

I go and get a dishtowel from the kitchen and quickly wipe the cum off her back. I wonder what’s the easiest way to get rid of her. In hindsight I shouldn’t have even invited her over but I needed something to get my mind off of Nicola.

The thing is, when I give a girl my phone number, I expect her to call me. They always do. And I wasn’t even giving it her on the pretence of fucking her or anything like that. I genuinely can help her out. I want to. And she needs it. It’s rare that I have all three of those.

But it’s two in the afternoon and she hasn’t called. Wasn’t she curious? Isn’t she desperate?

Does she really hate me that much?

I can tell when women “hate” me. You know, as a precursor to getting naked, a fun way to make our interactions more exciting. And then there’s women who hate me, as in they wish I would die. I’ve gotten that impression from Nicola ever since I first met her at a bar early last year, right after I moved here. At the time I would have just blamed it on her being an uptight snob, but she was so nice to everyone else and so snide with me, that I couldn’t help but take it personally. And, of course, be challenged by it.