The Wicked

I spin around so quick, I make myself dizzy, and find an older man standing just inside the restaurant with his arm around a blonde woman.

He’s the spitting image of my boyfriend, just greying and with no tattoos. He’s maybe an inch shorter than Hayden, dressed in a nice black suit and shiny shoes that scream wealth.

I turn back to Hayden. “Let’s just leave.”

“No,” he snaps. “He doesn’t get to ruin our evening.”

Before I can respond, Hayden’s face curls into disgust again, so I turn around to see what he’s watching behind me. His father has noticed us, and he’s walking across the restaurant right for us. Oh, Jesus take the fucking wheel.

I turn back to Hayden. “Please don’t do anything insane.”

Hayden laughs in response, and then his father’s voice is cutting through the tension and filling my ears.

“Son,” he says, his voice deep. “You’re in New York.”

I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment – not for Hayden or myself, but for his father, who just greeted his son like a long-lost acquaintance.

“I am,” Hayden responds, squeezing my hand on top of the table. “Good to see you, too.”

“What brings you to town?” his father asks.

Hayden clears his throat. “Just a quick weekend trip to see Travis.”

“Ah,” his father says, tone full of condescension. “What did this trip cost me, Hayden?”

Before Hayden can say, or do, something stupid in response, I clear my throat and look up at the man, holding my hand out. “Hi, I’m Penelope.”

“James Monroe.” He shakes my hand, drops it, then looks back at his son. “Do you think money grows on trees, son? Do you think I don’t look at your credit card bills? Who do you think you are, renting a million-dollar boat in Hawaii for those white trash friends of yours?”

I stare at Hayden as his face turns red with anger.

“Don’t fucking talk about them.”

“What’s next, hmm?” his father continues. “Will you be buying a car for your orphan friend?”

Hayden stands up, pushing his chair out so hard that it falls behind him. “Don’t act like you know the things I do, Dad. Your assistant probably saw the charge and mentioned it to you, I know it’s too much hassle to check in on your fucking son, you may actually have to speak to him if you do.”

“Such adult words for a boy who acts like a child. Running around the beach with foster kids, getting tattoos from your gangbanger cousin, having affairs with your teachers,” his father coos softly, making my stomach drop. “I know a lot more than you think I do, son, and you’d be wise to show me a little bit of respect unless you want to be out on your ass without a penny to your name. You are eighteen now, after all.”

Hayden’s fists clench at his sides, and I stand up to step between them, putting my hands on Hayden’s chest. “Let’s just go, okay?”

His gaze finds mine for a moment before it travels over my head once more. “Good to see you, Dad. Pick up the bill for us, will you?”

He slides his hand in mine, then starts dragging me through the restaurant until we’re out the front doors. My back is sweating, and my chest is heaving for fresh air, but none of it matters. I rush Hayden and grab his arms. “Are you okay?”

He pulls from my hold. “I’m fine.”

“Hayden…” I say, stepping toward him again.

“Don’t.” He steps back so I can’t reach him. “We need to go meet Travis and Olivia at Savage.”

“Why don’t we just go back to the hotel, H?” I suggest, and he shakes his head.

“I told you; I’m not letting him ruin our evening. Please, let’s just forget this ever happened and try to have a good time with Travis before we have to go home tomorrow.”

I nod, holding my hand out. “Let’s go, then.”

He slides his fingers between mine, then we start walking back uptown to find the club where we’re meeting Travis and Olivia.

If there’s one thing I know about Hayden Monroe – it’s that he’s a hurricane.

Out of nowhere, he picks up speed and destroys everything around him. Any moment with him can quickly turn deadly, and I should have known the exchange with his father would trigger an episode of Hurricane Hayden.

It doesn’t matter who’s in his path when he gets like this. Anyone is fair game for destruction.

Savage is nothing like our familiar club back home, Amethyst. It’s massive, the entire room electric. The lights hanging over our heads are constantly changing colors to the beat of each song, and there’s easily 500 people plastered together on the dance floor. Travis and Olivia have been dancing for a while, rolling their bodies together and getting lost in each other’s embraces on the middle of the dance floor, and I’m standing next to Hayden at the bar while he dances and laughs and swallows down shots of tequila.

He’s fun Hayden now, but I’m vividly aware that, at any moment, he could flip the switch. That’s why I’m nursing the same Jack and Coke I’ve had since we got here – because if something happened to him, I would never forgive myself.

I lost count after his tenth drink, and now I’m just standing by his side and letting him self-destruct.

Maybe it’s how he’s going to get through the conversation with his father, maybe it’s what he needs to feel okay. I don’t know. I’m exhausted.

I kiss Hayden on the cheek, pulling his body against mine. “You wanna get going soon, H?”

He nods, taking another shot. His voice is slurred and unrecognizable when he responds, his breath hot against my ear. “Yeah, baby, whatever you want.”

I squeeze his waist. “I’m just going to grab Travis and let him know we’re leaving, okay?”

He simply nods again, his eyes fluttering as he dances mindlessly to the popular trap song that’s shaking the building. I sigh as I make my way through the crowd, hoping Hayden will be okay by himself, eyes wide as I look for Travis and Olivia.

I spot them in the center of the room, and when I reach them, I stand on the tips of my toes to shout into Travis’s ear. “I’m going to take him back to the hotel.”

Flicking his eyes over my head to look at Hayden, he shakes his head in disappointment. “Text me later so I know he’s fucking alive.”

“I will,” I shout, hugging him, then Olivia, then I make my way back to Hayden.

“Ready, H?” I ask, and he grabs my arm.

“I love you, P,” he slurs, his red eyes finding mine. “You know that?”

“I know.” I laugh, sliding my hand to his to start leading him out of the club. Maybe some fresh air will level him out so we can make it back to the hotel without any issues. I’m just thankful I have the address, otherwise we’d be sleeping on the street.

Once we’re outside, Hayden falls against the side of the building while he digs around in his pockets for his cigarettes, then laughs at himself. “Baby, can you light one for me?”

He holds the pack toward me, and I pull two out, slide them between my lips and light them together. I hand one to Hayden, then take a huge hit off mine. After I’ve blown out the smoke, I look over at him.

“Think you can make it two blocks back to the hotel?”

He nods, and it isn’t convincing since he wobbles as he does, but I don’t really have another choice but to try.

I wrap my arm around his waist, then we start walking down the sidewalk toward the Four Seasons.

It takes three times longer than it should, but somehow, we make it to the hotel, through the lobby, and into the elevator.

“You think there’s tequila in the minibar?” Hayden asks, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

I snort. “I think maybe we should just go to bed.”

He grins at me, sliding his hands around my waist. “I’m fine, P. Really.”

“You aren’t, but okay,” I say, barely refraining from rolling my eyes, and he kisses me. His lips are messy and wet, and when his tongue slides against mine, he tastes like alcohol and cigarettes.

When the elevator dings and the doors open, I pull away from him and drag him behind me out onto our floor. When we reach our room, I hold my hand out to him. “You have the key?”

“In my pocket,” he says, lifting his arms up above his head.

Laughing, I slide my hand in the front pocket of his jeans and pull everything out. His wallet, the room key, and a little baggie filled with pills.

My heart races, and his eyes find mine. “Oh, shit. Who put those there?”

I ignore him, slide the key for our room over the sensor, and push the door open. He follows me in, tripping over his feet and banging into the walls as he goes. “P.”

“You only have this”—I hold up the baggie—“because of your tattoo, right?”

“Right,” he slurs. “Of course, yes. That’s why.”

I shake my head, laughing without humor. “You’re lying to me right now.”

“I’m not!” he yells.

I sigh, dropping everything on the table and sitting down on the bed. “I don’t want to deal with this right now, I’m fucking exhausted. Can we just go to bed?”

He stumbles through the room and drops down in front of the minibar, pulls it open, and grabs for a few of the little bottles of liquor. When he’s taken the cap off one and downed it, I lunge for him.

“What’re you doing?!”

He grins at me, dropping on his ass and taking off the cap of the next one. “Drinking, you want one?”

“Hayden,” I sigh, trying to grab for the bottle, but he pulls out of my reach. “Please.”

“Penelope, stop being like that,” he groans. “Please, just let me get fucked up without turning into a complete bitch for once.”

“Nice,” I say, standing up and walking away from him.

He yells after me, but I ignore him and shut myself in the bathroom. Leaning against the counter, I take a deep breath and close my eyes, giving myself a moment to get my shit together.

There’s a part of me that knows he doesn’t mean to be a raging dick, that he doesn’t have his mind right now, and that he’s been triggered by his dad today – but there’s also a part of me that knows I don’t deserve to be treated the way he’s acting. All I want is to help him, but are my efforts wasted on someone who doesn’t want the help in the end?

I fucking love him, and I want him to be okay, but at what point do I step back and let him explode without me trying to put a stop to it?

My heart wins over my head, because the thought of him hurting himself or something makes me feel sick to my stomach, and I push back out into the room.

He’s emptied four more little bottles of liquor, and they’re scattered around next to where he’s now lying on the floor.

Walking over to him, I drop down and sit next to him, kicking off my shoes.

“You awake?”

He moans, one of his eyes cracking open to look at me. “I love you.”

“I know, H,” I breathe, lying down and curling next to him. “You’re going to be okay.”

He doesn’t make a sound for a while, then his body starts shaking and he starts to cry. I bend my neck to look up at him and rub my nose against his jaw. “It’s okay.”

“It isn’t, P,” he whispers, his voice thick with intoxication. “It’ll never fucking be okay.”

I wrap an arm around him, placing my hand over his cheek. “I’m here with you, Hayden, and I’m never going anywhere, okay? I love you.”

My eyes fill with tears as more stream down his face. “You shouldn’t be. I’m a fucking piece of shit. Just ask my dad.”

“What the fuck does he know, huh?” I say, rubbing my nose against his skin. “He doesn’t know you, and he doesn’t deserve to.”

“I don’t know why he hates me so fucking much, P.”

“He doesn’t.” I brush his tears from his cheek. “Today proved that – how else would he know so much about your life? He’s still checking up on you.”

He snorts. “Yeah, probably to make sure I don’t embarrass him.”

“Well, fuck him. Seriously, you’re so much better off without him, and you’re ten times the man he will ever be.” I kiss his jaw. “You would never treat your child the way he treats you, and that will always make you better than him.”

Hayden doesn’t say anything else, then his hands grab onto me tightly. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“C’mon.” I jump up, pulling him as hard as I can from the floor. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

He runs for the bathroom, and I follow him, entering in time to see him lunge for the toilet and spill the contents of his stomach. Leaning down behind him, I stroke his back and whisper sweet words to him as he heaves.

“You’re okay,” I say, running my hands down his back. “Just get it out.”

He throws up three more times before he flushes and falls onto the bathroom floor, and I stand up to wet a washcloth before I place it on his forehead. Sitting down next to him, I wipe his brow, cheeks, and upper lip with the cool rag. “You feel better?”

He sits up quickly and throws up into the toilet again in response, and I go through the steps of comforting him again, tears rolling down my face from seeing him in pain.

By 5 a.m., Hayden is asleep in bed and I’m sitting on the patio, chain smoking and watching the sun rise over the city. I’m afraid to go to sleep. I’m scared he’ll get sick while he’s sleeping and choke or something, and I’ll be too out of it to save him.

I have the doors open so I can listen for him, and every couple of minutes, I turn around in my chair to look at him to make sure he’s still breathing.

I’ve cried so much for the both of us tonight that my eyes are burning and red, and my body is trembling from the chill settling over the city.

I want to save him from himself so badly, wrap him in my arms and never let anything hurt him ever again. Most of all, I want to find his father and spit in his face, tell him how fucking wonderful and perfect his son is and remind him that he’ll never get to know those parts of him.

It isn’t fair that someone so new to adulthood is so scarred and broken from his parents. I want to take it all away, but more than anything I just want to help him get better. He deserves it, and I’m afraid that if he doesn’t get the help he needs, I’ll lose him. We’ll never be able to have a functional relationship when he’s so fucked up, leaning on drugs and alcohol to numb parts of himself more nights than most.

When I’m done with the last cigarette in the pack, I crawl into bed with him and slide myself under his heavy arm. He’s breathing deeply, his bare skin covered in a thin layer of sweat that makes him stick to me when I get close enough.

Breathing in deep, I take in the smell of his skin – that particular scent that is so organically Hayden. It’s so fucking comforting that it brings moisture to my eyes.

When I wrap a hand around his waist and run my nose over his, he stirs. I close my eyes, putting on the charade that I’ve been asleep in bed with him this whole time, when I haven’t gotten a wink.

He moans, stretching his arm over me farther and curling a leg over my waist. “Morning.”

I brush my face against his. “Hey, H.”

“What time is it?” He grinds his pelvis against mine, but the motion isn’t sexual, it just brings him even closer to me.

“Almost six.”

He groans, kissing my neck. “Too early.”

“Can we talk?” I ask softly, running my hands over his lower back. “I think we need to get some things figured out before we head home.”

He pulls back so he can look at me, and I find myself getting lost in the darkness of his swollen eyes. His face has grown messy with stubble, and his lips are bitten raw. “Yeah.”

I breathe deep, blowing it out slowly. “You really scared me last night.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to, P.”

“I know,” I say, holding him tighter. “And I think that’s part of the problem – you can’t help but self-destruct when you feel any amount of negative emotion, and that fucking terrifies me.”

He shakes his head, looking at me again. “It isn’t like that. I just don’t like feeling the way I felt last night, especially when it comes to my dad. You know that. I just needed to numb it.”

“I know,” I repeat, unsure if I should continue, but I do anyway. “But there’re healthier ways to deal with those feelings besides getting so fucked up you can’t control yourself. What if I hadn’t been there last night? Something could have happened to you… you could have gotten hurt.”

“I can take care of myself,” he says defensively.

“But you don’t have to anymore – you have me,” I whisper, feeling him pull away from me emotionally. “All I’m asking for is for you to try.”

He sighs softly, then closes his eyes again. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Hayden,” I whisper, then press a light kiss to his lips and cup his jaw. “I love you so fucking much, and I want everything we’ve talked about, but we’re never going to have it if you keep going down this path.”

He nods. “I know.”

“So just try. For me, for us. Try to get better. I’m here and I’ll help you.”

He opens his eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I repeat, the look in his eyes giving me hope.

“I’ll get better for you, Penelope.”