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He sneered. “Your new best friends. Or,” he said, leaning closer and raking his gaze over me, “should I say friend.”
My heart jumped because I knew he was talking about Ronnie. He couldn’t know everything, though. He was just being an idiot as usual. Trying to goad me.
“Just move, Jimmy. I’m sure you’ve got a woman or a line of coke to get back to.” God knew what he’d been doing on the floor above but there was no light coming from up there.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he asked, taking a step closer to me.
“Find out what?” I tried to sound like I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I was more hopeful than anything. He had a look of determination, one that I had seen before. When he had something he could manipulate someone with. “I’ve had enough of you. I’m going.”
I pushed past him and headed for the stairs, but he grabbed my arm and dragged me back to him.
“I haven’t finished talking to you.” His lip curled in revulsion as he got in my face. “I know what’s going on with you and Dwyer, so get ready for all that shit to hit the fan.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Again, I tried to pull away, but his grip on my arm was strong. “Let me go!”
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out that he’s shagging you?” He sneered. “I heard Hugo on the phone to Amelie.”
“Well, you heard wrong. He’s not. We’re not.” Shaking my head, I took his fingers and tried to prise them from my arm. “You’re hurting me.”
“Hurting you? Fuck’s sake, you’re like some weak little kid, crying all the time that I’ve slapped you or I’ve hurt you. Get a fucking backbone, Amber.”
“Just leave me alone, Jimmy. I want to go. And you fuckingpunchedme. Why can’t you admit it?” I stared at him for a few seconds, wondering whether he would finally acknowledge what he’d done, but there was nothing. “Oh, just fuck off out of my life, Jimmy.”
When his hand moved to my hair, I felt the sting as he tugged on it, holding it tight and dragging my head to an odd angle. Pain shot down my neck and over my scalp as he lowered his face to mine.
“I’m going to tell the whole fucking world what the pair of you have been doing behind my back.”
Spittle landed on my face and his breath smelled of booze and I didn’t think I’d ever been as scared. I’d been right to leave him. One punch would have moved on to this and so much more within weeks, if not days, if I’d stayed under the same roof as him. Everything about him was spiralling. His drinking, his drug use and his temper. Staying might have seen me badly hurt or worse. Staying would have brought this moment sooner.
“Jimmy, just let go. I need to leave.”
“You need to run to your boyfriend, you mean. Well, no way. You’re going to let me tell you exactly what I think about you.”
“I don’t care what you think about me.”
Maybe if I appeared strong he’d realise he couldn’t control me any longer. Maybe he would let me go.
“All you’ve ever done is make me miserable.” He wrapped my hair tighter and pulled harder. “Ow, stop. Stop it.”
“You’re a stupid bitch and I’ve no idea why I saddled myself with you. I just felt sorry for you. That’s all.” He pointed his finger in my face. “Hugo told me that you’d be a dead weight around my neck.”
I felt the pain of his comment, even though I knew he was lying. He had to be. I’d only ever been supportive. To all of them. I’d helped to make demo CD’s and post them, I’d called venues asking for gigs, I’d even driven the van so they could all get pissed after gigs.
“I am not a dead weight and Hugo never said that.” The pain in my head was awful as his grip increased, and adrenalin was the only thing keeping me from sagging to the floor. “I hate you.”
Jimmy’s pupils were dilated in red eyes as he stared at me, looking me up and down like I was shit on his shoe.
“Fuck off back to your boyfriend and see how long before he gets bored of you and your frigid fucking body.”
He let go of my hair, dropping his hands to his sides and poked me in the chest, making me stumble back towards the stairs. I knew if I showed him fear in that moment then I’d always be scared of him, and he didn’t deserve that. He was nothing except an egotistical little boy who hated that he didn’t always get his own way. That I hadn’t bowed to his demands and treated him like he was some sort of god.
“You’re pathetic,” I said, with a smirk. “Pathetic and small and worthless.”
I saw his hand raise. I saw his arm swing back. I saw the back of his hand inches from my cheek. I felt the burn on my cheek. I experienced the panic as I lost my footing and saw the edge of the stairs. Finally, I heard my own scream as I fell, grabbing at nothing but fresh air.
CHAPTER39
RONNIE
