Antidote (Don't) (22 page)

Jack

Moving stirred one fucked-up waltz inside my head and the stab of hurt in my ass and back encouraged me to stay lost in the feel of cool silk sheets. The pillow made a soft ledge to grip onto, and I groaned, barely shifting my hips and stirring anything else. Voices swam in and out of focus, making it hard to think beyond the softness of the bed, and I pulled the covers up over my head, wincing against the fucked-up mixture of sound and sense.

“Jack?”

The cover was tugged off my head and I twisted into the pillow, not wanting the onslaught of light or the confusing sound of voices to get any closer.

“Come on, honey, up you get.”

Whether it was day, morning, I couldn’t tell. Didn’t really want to, just wanted to lie down for five more minutes, shut out the cries. Life swam in a shit-load of hurt, my ass, my shoulders, and it didn’t help when the bed depressed next to me and a hand rubbed at my side. “Fuck.”

“’Nother bad night, luv?”

“Hmmm.” I coughed, voice sore, broken, not really understanding the sweetness of the voice in the backdrop of cries and struggles. “Mom?”

“You okay, honey?” Black eyes frowned down at me, my old lady’s face taking on a highway of lines. Her hair was loose, which she never usually did, black curls surrounding her face, nearly hiding it. She’d eaten something hot and spicy. Maybe a curry? But curry... she fucking hated spicy food. “You were crying out,” she said, giving a frown.

“Jan.” I twisted around, grunting out hurt. I’d been wiping tears off his face by the bed, then.... “Ah.” I tried to move, to sit up, but there was a stab of pain in my ass and the feel of sheet scraping along my body forced a sharp hiss.

“Oh, honey,” hands pushed down at my chest, “you’ve got it bad. Take this.”

A glass of cool orange juice touched my lips. “Mom,” I mumbled, the world and all its soft covers swimming for a while. “Jan. Hurt—”

“Shush.” A hand under my arm helped me sit up, then encouraged me to lift my head. “Your throat sounds sore.”

The glass touched my lips again and panic hit for a moment. Lips... water... fighting for breath. I downed it in one, taking a deep breath afterwards to chase away the rush of fear that crushed my insides. Hurt seemed to instantly ebb away and numbing took over. It felt so damn good.

“Maybe,” my old lady rubbed at my cheek, “maybe I should go call Vince?” She offered a smile.

Vince? I looked at her, tried to focus, but the lines on her face were blurred at the edges, giving her this warp drive effect every time she moved. “Gray. Need Gray. Argument an—” The world tipped upside down and I dropped my head between my knees. “Whoa, fuck....”

“Easy, honey. You’re really sick. Get some more sleep.”

I lay back down, my arm dropping over my face.

“That’s it, baby.” whispered my old lady. “You stay here. I’m gonna go and give Vince a call.”

“Vince?” I mumbled something, shaking my head. “Just Jan, just need....” Jan. There was something wrong with Jan. Pissed. Jan had been so pissed, and scared. He’d been crying and scared as he lay on the en suite floor, shouting, curling into himself.
Mercedes... Mercedes fucking Ben...
.

The comfort of pillows and soft sheet surrounded me again as the sound of voices forced my hand off my face. I’d fallen back to sleep, only this time making the mistake of trying to get up too quickly. The light through the windows swam in and out of focus, blurring life beyond the blinds, and I dropped my arm back over my face to block out the dizzy assault and the sting that came with moving. No good, life still did one fucked-up waltz in the backdrop and I groaned, wiping a hand over my face, and hating how much my hand shook. A glass of water sat on the bedside unit, and I held back throwing up as I reached over and grabbed it. The ice-coolness was everything I needed, soothing the burn in my throat, the hurt in my body and ass.

Giving a wipe at my mouth, I blindly gave the glass a home back on my bedside unit. “Shit.” Closing my eyes, I tried to stop the swaying going on with my bedroom as I stood. Satisfied I wasn’t about to end up arse over tit on the floor, I made it over to the wardrobe. Jogging bottoms came out, and I slid the door shut as voices came from outside, not panicked, just calm, and the world became calmer hearing it. Calm. Fuck. I needed Gray’s calmness now. Wincing, I pulled one leg through my jogging pants, then the other, then made it over to the door. Red flashing irritated the fuck out of me, and the camera above the door had me staring. Mike. There were no details there of sorting through schematics with either him or Gray. Nothing that said MC cameras should be here.

“Jack.” My old lady’s eyes widened a touch seeing me open the door and step into the hall. She came over and a hand was suddenly pressed against my chest as the floor nearly crept up on me. “Jack, love, you shouldn’t be up.” I palmed my eyes, then realised she wasn’t alone as I looked from her to the big wall of muscle standing at the top of my stairs.

“Fuck...” I frowned up at him. “You...? Gray. Where the hell’s Gray, M-mom?”

My old lady frowned. “Oh, honey.” She was talking to House of Muscle. “Vince, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with him—”

“
Who th’ fuck’s Vince
?” I shouted at her. “Gray. Where is he, Mom?” I gripped onto the doorframe as sickness turned my stomach, then pushed at Vince as he came closer. “Get th’ fuck out of my face.”

“
Jack
.” The sharpness to my old lady’s voice jerked me slightly as it grated through nerves. “What the hell is wrong with you—”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Fortello,” said Vince, and I found myself looking up a whole fucking lot as he came over, the expression in his brown eyes a little sad. “Jack’s just tired, is all.” I grunted as he tugged my grip off the doorframe and shouldered my arm over his, his arm slipping around my waist and forcing a hiss as he caught soreness there. “Let’s get you downstairs, see if we can clear your head a bit, okay, baby. You—”

“
Th’fuck off
.” I slammed a hand against his chest and tried to break a few chest bones. “Get... get the fuck off me. Gray—”

“Easy.” Vince tugged me along the hall, taking my weight a little when the world went black for a moment.

“
Fucking shit
,” I bit out as pain travelled up into my spine.

“Oh-kay,” said Vince, his hand resting on my stomach to stop me from falling. “Not good, you—”

“
Jan
.”

Shuffling came from my spare room, there’d been shuffling in there before, a day, maybe two days ago, I swore there had, slight thuds of metal bedstead knocking against wall, and I tried to crane my neck, echoes of thuds and answered cries tearing me up. “Jan?” He’d been so fucking pale, so fucking terrified there on the floor— Snarls hit the hall, mine, and I was trying to get past Vince, push him out of the way.

“Fucking Jan.” The world started to spin as I looked back, my old lady crying out at the struggles, and it seemed to makes matters worse as the world carried on spinning as I lost my footing and started to fall....

“Jack, c’mon, our kid. You with me? I need to know you’re okay.”

“Hmph?” I jolted awake to find I was lying on my settee, legs drawn up, feet flat on the arm with someone behind me. A kiss went to my head as I struggled with the time slip. “It’s all right, our kid. Take it easy. You’ve had it really rough lately. You need to calm down.”

“Jan?”

Another kiss came to my head as I struggled to keep my eyes open. “No. Doesn’t matter, though, kid. You just get better.”

Not fucking ill
. I wanted to tear the huge arm off my chest, especially when he (Vince?) laced it around me and pulled me in close. But tired... I was so fucking tired. The sound and images from my TV kicked into gear, but they were one continuous blur, making it too hard to try and keep up with them. The ceiling looked much better: no movement, no colour. I knew I was staring, but couldn’t really help it.

“Okay, now we know you can wake up with no problems, you get some sleep, our kid.” Another kiss, another slight flare of wanting to nut the bastard, then it was gone. Tired. I was just too fucking tired.

Somebody was shaking me, and I mumbled that they really needed to fuck off now. I liked my settee, I’d chosen it specifically for this, when life became too fucking muggy to drag my lazy ass upstairs. But that shaking came again, this time with a bout of chuckling.

“Come on, Jack. Get your ass into gear. Want to show you something.”

Whoever had been my pillow was now gone, a cushion now in his place, and I groaned, liking it that way. Hands grabbed under my arms, tugging me up into a sitting position. I followed the movement through, leaning forward with arms resting across my knees, then dropped my head, half rubbing at my eyes, half just wanting to lie down and sleep again.

“Still feeling rough, hmm?” There was a stroke to the back of my head, and I looked up, narrowing my eyes. Square jaw, head tilted slightly, he looked alien in familiar surroundings, but that sadness was there to dark brown eyes, and soft brown hair was shower fresh....

“Jan?”

Hurt flickered in brown eyes and it put such a weight on my chest. I hated those eyes looking so fucking torn. “Name’s Vince, Jack.” Sadness seemed to deepen. “Don’t you remember, baby?”

“Sleep... here.” I frowned a gaze around me. I’d gone to sleep on him here.

“Yeah.” Brown eyes seemed to lift a touch. “That’s right, you fell down a few stairs and went to sleep here on me yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“Hmmm. I left you here; you looked like you’d hit someone if they moved you.”

The pull in my body didn’t hurt so much today as I rubbed a hand into my forehead. Vince’s touch replaced mine, feeling for something.

“Christ, Jack. This carries on, I’m getting the doctor in.” His hand dropped to my neck, stroking gently and—“Sick.” I gripped my stomach, cramps nearly creasing me in two as a bitter taste came to my throat. “Need to throw u—”

“Hang on.” Vince was gone, then a bottle of fresh water was pushed into my hand. “You’ve barely taken any fluids over the past few days. You need to drink.”

I took the water, needing to ease the soreness in my bones, and nearly drank half before it was pulled out of my grip. “Slowly.” Vince sat back and gave a worried smile. Perfect teeth. His teeth were so fucking white and straight. “Look at this.” He was grinning. “Got something that might clear that head of yours a touch.”

He was gone and the flick of a switch was heard. “Okay.” He winked as he came back over. “Tell me what you think.”

The usual two-tone pastels to my living room was complemented with a real Christmas fir tree, soft blue bulbs, and silver streamers that were tacked to the ceiling shifted in the breeze. Huge white Santa faces with white beards had attached themselves along the main feature wall, all with rosy cheeks and big smiling faces.

What the—

“Your old man came over while you were out of it, and helped,” said Vince. I looked at him.

“My old man?” There was a tug, desperation to see him.

“Your old man,” said Vince, moving over to the tree. “I think your mom called him this morning. As things have been,” he looked back at me and offered a soft smile, “well, a little odd lately, I think they wanted to help. Your old man wanted to wake you, but I kind of advised against it.”