Pregnant Pause [H.S]

Chapter 15

Before

It took three of us to restrain the dealer after he'd gotten in a good punch and sent Callum tumbling over the back of the couch. He was young, of medium build, and nonthreatening by himself, but as three of us escorted him down the lift, through the lobby and out of the building, he said he'd pass on the news to his connections. Callum owed a lot of money, he said. If he stepped outside, he was a dead man.

I had my mobile in my hand and was prepared to call the police – on the dealer, on Callum, on everybody, just to end the whole thing. It was my brash, devil-maycare attitude that inspired fear in him, and before he left, I took his wallet and jotted down his personal information from his driver's license before tossing it back to him.

"This doesn't have to be anything if you don't make it into anything. But if he goes down, you go down," I told him with a shrug. Though he was undeniably pissed, he nodded in understanding before we let him go and watched him hop on a public bus across the street.

When I re-entered the flat, my hand was balled in a fist to stop the blood from the shard of glass that had cut across my palm, stinging terribly.

But I didn't care. There was still business to address.

"You," I said, low and menacing. I pointed to Jamer as I approached him in the kitchen, where he was leaning lazily against the counter with a beer in his hand. I grabbed his collar and turned him toward the door. "Out."

"What?" he said, thinking he'd done no wrong.

The reggae music blared, but everyone seemed to have calmed down, silenced by the altercations that had just taken place. Callum was on the couch with another ice pack next to Fitz and Briony, but other than that, everyone seemed to be circling Jamer and I, waiting to see who would be the first to strike the other.

"Get out," I repeated as evenly as possible, though I was nearly shaking with anger. "Go home. Leave."

"You can't kick me out," Jamer said with a short laugh, shrugging out of my grasp. He tried to duck around me and slink into the kitchen, but I blocked him. "I didn't do anything."

"Get the fuck out!" I shouted, pointing to the door with my good hand. "You think I'm joking? Try me."

"Don't be a fucking dick!" he shouted back.

"Time to leave, mate," Louis said gently, placing a hand on Jamer's shoulder and guiding him to the door.

"Piece of shit," Jamer hissed, though he didn't fight against Louis. I followed them closely as he looked over his shoulder. "What did I do? Why're you always ruining everyone's good time? Fuckin' buzzkill."

"Out!" I yelled, blocking him again when he tried to get back in. Together, Louis and I took him into the hallway, where a crowd followed. My mind was clouded in red smoke, and it took every grain of self-control I possessed not to beat him into the ground.

"Is this because of your girlfriend?" he asked. With a handful of his shirt in my fist, I pulled him toward me and then released him – hard. "Because it doesn't matter what I do," he said, stumbling on his feet and readjusting his collar. "You've been fucking it up on your own. She just wants to chill, mate. Give her a fucking break or watch her walk away. You'll lose her."

He paused to assess my reaction, but Louis gave him no time, dragging him along to the lift.

"I want you out of here," I said. He looked over his shoulder to let another string of curses fly, but I interrupted him, in a rage. "Not just tonight, but from now on. I don't want to see you in my flat again! You understand me?"