Jax (A Bastard Novel) Page 4

  It’s the first time I’ve been home since I left to go to uni. I’ve always made excuses not to go home for the holidays—there was nothing left for me there. Not even Candice. My family certainly didn’t give a shit. Each year, my mother simply said, ‘Have a nice Christmas, Jaxson,’ and a week later she’d deposit some money into my bank account: my present. At least I took the time to buy them all gifts and post them home. I never got a thank you though. My family suck.

  My younger brother, Brent, started at the same university as me last year, but I never hear from him. I’ve seen him a few times on campus and the cock just nodded his head as he passed. What’s with that? We may be different, and have never been close, but I’m his flesh and blood. He thinks more of his pansy-arse mates than he does of me.

  As I pull into the driveway of my parents’ estate, all I can think about is Candice. I should be worried about what I’m about to face, but she’s only a few blocks away, and this is the closest I’ve been to her in two years. Two years … it feels like an eternity. I’ve slowly gotten used to not having her in my life.

  Who am I kidding? I still struggle. I’m hurt by the way things played out between us, but my feelings for her haven’t diminished in any way. I’m still hopelessly in love with her.

  Pushing all thoughts of Candice out of my mind, I climb the front stairs before raising my hand to knock on the door. Although this is supposed to be my home, I’ve never truly belonged here and I don’t feel comfortable using my key.

  ‘Jaxson,’ my mother says in a surprised voice when she opens the door. ‘What are you doing here?’ I roll my eyes when she gives me an air kiss. She’s never been the maternal type. I used to love watching Candice and her mum together when I’d hang out at her house. I always found myself wishing my mum was like that with me. Sophia was a touch dramatic on occasions, but she’s a good mum. There’s no denying she loves her daughter.

  ‘Hello, Mother.’ Nervously sliding my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I give her a pleasant smile when our eyes meet. ‘I came to speak with Father. Is he home?’

  ‘Yes, he’s in the study.’ She steps aside so I can enter, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that she doesn’t even ask how I am, or how I’ve been. Figures. ‘Is that an earring in your eyebrow?’ she cries when I pass.

  ‘Yes.’ She may not like the person I’ve become, but I’ll never be ashamed of who I am.

  ‘Are they tattoos on your arm?’

  ‘They are.’ I love my ink. It’s a true expression of me.

  ‘Your father was right; you won’t be satisfied until you ruin the Albright name. How do you expect to ever get elected into parliament looking like a thug?’ She shakes her head. ‘You’re such a disappointment. Where did we go so wrong?’

  It’s nothing I haven’t heard a thousand times over. Ignoring her comments, I make my way down the long corridor to my father’s study. Nothing seems to have changed in this house since I left; it’s more like a display house than a real home, something to show off to all their guests when they have their stupid dinner parties: Oh look at us … see how rich we are. It’s sickening how they carry on sometimes.

  I roll my shoulders and take a few deep breaths when I reach the door. I knock once before entering. My father is sitting behind his desk. He’s on the phone and eyes me sceptically as I stand in the doorway, waiting for him to finish. He doesn’t look pleased to see me, but I kind of expected that.

  ‘I’ll call you back,’ he says abruptly before ending the call. ‘Shouldn’t you be in Sydney?’ he snaps at me.

  ‘I’m heading back to my apartment tonight, I just needed to speak with you in person.’ I should’ve just called and given him the news over the phone, but that would’ve been the coward’s way out. I’m man enough to do this face to face.

  ‘About what?’ he asks as I take a seat.

  ‘I’ve dropped out of uni.’ No point sugar-coating it. It is what it is. I’m done. This man can no longer control or dictate my future. I’m twenty-one years old, for Christ’s sake. My life is my own, and that’s exactly how I intend to live it from now on.

  ‘You what?’ He bangs his fists on the desk as he stands. There’s a murderous expression on his face as he leans towards me.

  I don’t budge. I refuse to let this man intimidate me anymore. ‘I quit. I’m not cut out to be a politician. I never have been. I tried to be the person you wanted me to be. I gave it two years of my life, but I can’t do it anymore.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn what you want,’ he spits, fisting my shirt in his hands before pulling me off the chair and towards him. ‘Get your fucking arse back to that university now.’ His face is bright red and I can see a few veins protruding on his neck.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do that.’ He can’t control my life. My mind is made up. There’s no turning back.

  ‘Don’t screw with me, boy.’

  Prying his hands from my shirt, I step away from the desk. ‘This isn’t the life I want. This isn’t the person I want to be. Why can’t you see that?’

  ‘What you want to be!’ he screams as his face turns even redder. ‘I don’t give a shit who you want to be, this is about who you’re destined to be. Politics is in your blood. You’re my son and you don’t have a choice in the matter.’

  I shake my head as disappointment fills me. I was kidding myself if I thought he’d understand. He’s too selfish to ever see past his own wants and needs. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Father. I’m twenty-one years old and you don’t have a say in my future.’

  ‘If you want to be a part of this family, I do.’

  Family? What a joke. ‘This family doesn’t give a shit about me.’

  ‘What a load of crap.’

  ‘Really?’ I snap. I’m trying to keep my cool here, but failing miserably. ‘It was my twenty-first birthday last week, do you even know that? Do you even care? My so-called family didn’t even call me to wish me a happy birthday.’

  He falters slightly but recovers quickly. ‘Well, I’m too busy to worry about things like that—that’s your mother’s department.’ He flicks his wrist, dismissing the subject.

  It may be nothing to him, but it was a huge wakeup call for me. Not one person wished me a happy birthday, not even Candice. I’ve never felt as unloved or unimportant as I did that day. I think that’s the moment I finally decided that enough was enough. If I wanted happiness and acceptance, I needed to go out and find it. I certainly wasn’t going to get it from my family.

  ‘This family revolves around your stupid career. That’s all you ever talk about. There’s more to life than damn politics.’

  ‘My career means everything to this family, you ungrateful little prick.’

  ‘Not to me.’ Turning, I head for the door. ‘Goodbye, Father.’ I’ve got everything I needed from this visit—confirmation that in the grand scheme of things, I’m nothing to them.

  ‘If you walk out that door, you’re dead to me,’ my father hisses.

  But I leave anyway.

  I grab my backpack and other stuff out of my car then put the keys to the Alfa Romeo in the letterbox and walk out the front gate, ready to start my new life. A life without my family. A life alone.

  Walking away with nothing is the only way—I don’t want to be indebted to my parents. They paid my way while I was attending uni, so I saved every cent I earnt while working part time in a local tattoo parlour. I also have a small trust fund, left to me by my maternal grandmother; she was the only decent family member I’ve ever known. She passed away when I was twelve, but I couldn’t access the trust fund until I turned twenty-one. And while I’d prefer to do this on my own, the money is there if I need it.

  It was no secret my grandmother wasn’t fond of my father. She never condoned the way he bullied me and tried to turn me into a carbon copy of him. I was just a kid, but even back then she knew how unhappy I was. I know she’d want to see me use that money to follow my dream.

  Slinging my backpack over my s
houlder, I pull my baseball cap out of the back pocket of my jeans and put it on. I exhale slowly as I make my way down the street. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt by the way things had just gone down, but in my heart I had no expectations of a good outcome. My father’s a selfish prick, and my mother is his puppet. It’s always been his way or no way.

  Well, no more. From now on it’s going to be my way. I’m going to be the man I want to be, the one I was destined to be.

  Despite everything, I’m looking forward to my new beginning. I have a fresh start. I may fall flat on my arse, but at least this time it will be my choice. Something I haven’t had until now.

  ••••

  I had no intentions of seeing Candice before heading back to Sydney, even though the thought did cross my mind a million times on my drive down here, but that’s exactly where I head. Old habits die hard.

  I’m gutless, though. I’m not going to knock on her door. She’s already rejected me once, by returning the letter I wrote her, and I’m not going to give her the chance to do it again. I’m just going to walk past her house on the way to the bus stop. It will be for the last time, because I won’t be coming back here. If lady luck is on my side, I may see her.

  Who am I kidding? Shit like that doesn’t happen to disappointments like me.

  Besides, seeing Candice again is only going to dredge up all those feelings. But I hate that this is what we’ve become and I miss her, so I’m willing to take that chance.

  I want to know why she returned my letter. It’s something I’ve struggled to wrap my head around. Despite everything that’s happened, I honestly thought our friendship meant something to her. Yes, I fucked up, but when I tried to make things right, it was too late.

  I’m doing my best to get on with my life, but I still think of her often—I’m constantly wondering how she is, and what she’s up to. I even followed the Miss Australia pageant, although I was stoked to see she wasn’t in the running. She’s so much braver than I am. She knew what she wanted, and did what she needed to do to make it happen. Wondering if she still has her pink hair brings a smile to my face.

  Running my sweaty palms nervously down the front of my jeans, I turn into Candice’s street. It’s funny, I’m more worried about possibly seeing her than I was about breaking the news that I’d quit uni to my father. My heart beats faster the closer I get. When I’m a few houses away, a silver Mercedes-Benz passes me, slowing down to pull into her driveway. The windows are tinted so I can’t see who’s inside. Neither Sophia nor Candice drove a car like that before I moved, but things change.

  I reach the bottom of the driveway just in time to see a man in a suit get out of the car. Who is he? Candice’s boyfriend? He looks too young to be Sophia’s. My heart sinks.

  My questions are soon answered when the front door opens and a small boy and a woman leave the house. ‘Daddy!’ the kid squeals as he runs across the front lawn towards the man.

  ‘Hey, buddy,’ the man replies, ruffling the kid’s hair. He slides his arm around the woman’s waist, drawing her in for a chaste kiss.

  ‘Dinner’s almost ready,’ I hear her say as the three of them turn and head inside.

  My shoulders slump as disappointment floods me. They must’ve sold their house. They never mentioned anything about moving. She’s gone.

  A crushing pain settles in my chest as I shove my hands into my pockets and continue down the street. It’s like déjà-fucking-vu, the exact feeling I got last time I was here—the night I realised I was hopelessly in love with Candice.

  The same night I lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

  JAX

  One year later …

  ‘SIGN HERE, MR ALBRIGHT,’ THE REAL ESTATE AGENT SAYS, passing me a pen. I can’t describe the feelings I have right now. I finally did it. A year after I walked away from my parents’ house, my dreams are finally coming true. I’ve just purchased a small building in Newtown, and in a few short weeks I’ll be a business owner when my tattoo parlour, Wicked Ink, opens. I chose Newtown as the place to start my new life because I fit in here. I can be myself without fear of retribution. This is where I want to work, and live; the only place that’s ever really felt like home.

  Newtown’s close to the University of Sydney, so there’s a lot of students, but it’s also home to people with artistic flair. There’s a higher than average population of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people living in the area. Give me any one of these people over the pretentious fuckers I grew up with. Candice would fit right in here. Especially with her pink hair.

  I don’t know why I keep torturing myself by thinking about her. I’ll always regret losing her, but it’s times like this that it hurts the most. She was the only one who ever believed in me, and encouraged me to follow my dream. I wish she was here to share this moment with me.

  At least I have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve done it all on my own. I’ve worked my arse off for the past year, saving every penny I could. It was a struggle at times. I went without so much, including decent meals; I’ve been living off baked beans on toast, two-minute noodles, and toasted cheese sandwiches for far too long. Tonight I’m gonna celebrate with a motherfucking steak. In the end, all my sacrifice has paid off. I had enough money saved for a deposit on this building, as well as some left to buy the equipment and fittings I’ll need to get my shop up and running. It will probably take me the rest of my life to repay the loan I had to get from the bank, but I’m willing to work hard to see that happen.

  My only regret is I have no one to share my success with.

  When I first arrived back in Sydney, the weight of losing not only my family but Candice as well hit really hard. I truly was all alone. They were dark days, but I realised that giving in was only letting those fuckers win, so I used all the negatives in my life to inspire me. I was going to succeed or die trying.

  It took about a week for me to get my shit together, and the first thing on my agenda when I did was finding somewhere new to live. My parents had bought me the apartment I was living in, so I had to go. I packed up my stuff and moved into a run-down one-bedroom shithole, but it was cheap, and it was mine. It was also a long way from where I’d come from and what I was used to, but my freedom and independence were worth it.

  The move was liberating. I posted the keys for my old apartment back to my parents. They’d stolen the first twenty-one years of my life, and I flat-out refused to let them take one more second of my future. I wanted to show them that despite what they thought, I would go a long way without them.

  After securing full-time work in a popular tattoo parlour in Kings Cross, I set my plan in motion. I took the time to ask a lot of questions so I could learn everything there was to know about running a successful business. My new boss was very forthcoming with information. He was not only impressed by my eagerness to learn, but my natural artistic talent as well. It helped to propel me forward at a rapid pace. I continued working weekends at the place I’d worked while I was studying, and I took in all the after-hours cash jobs I could. I had no life and was exhausted, but in the end I knew it would be worth it.

  Being so busy also helped to keep my demons at bay.

  Six months later …

  It’s just after seven pm when I finish with my last client for the day. Some nights I’m here until midnight. I’ve been working seven days a week since I opened five months ago, but I love it. Besides, I have nowhere else to be. Nobody waiting for me at home.

  I’m not the only tattoo shop in Newtown, but it hasn’t affected business—it’s booming. In the beginning it was just me and a casual artist I called in when I needed him. Within two weeks I already had more work than I could keep up with. Now we’re booked out weeks in advance. I’ve taken on three full-time employees: Gus, Shane and Mandy, the receptionist.

  After sterilising my equipment and packing it away, I turn off the lights and lock the door to my studio. I groan to myself when I see Mandy sitting behind the front co
unter in the reception area. She’s supposed to finish at five-thirty. I told her to go home over an hour ago.

  ‘I thought you’d already left,’ I say. She looks up from her phone and smiles at me sweetly. I ain’t falling for that shit. There’s nothing sweet about this woman. She’s pretty in an overly made-up, Barbie-doll kinda way, and has a great set of tits, but she’s trouble with a capital T. She’s been openly flirting with me since the day she started working here. For the most part I ignore it, but that doesn’t seem to deter her. If she wasn’t my employee, would I fuck her? Hell yes, but that’s all it would be—a quick fuck. I’d have no desire to see her again, so having to see her at work would just make things uncomfortable.

  ‘I thought since it’s the end of the week maybe we could go and get a drink.’

  ‘I’m fucked. It’s been a long day, so I’m heading home,’ I say, trying to be polite. It may be the end of the working week for her, but I still work weekends.

  ‘We could always grab a bottle and head back to your house,’ she practically purrs as she stalks towards me.

  ‘Look, Mandy,’ I say, when she comes to a stop mere inches from me. ‘We work together—this isn’t a good idea.’

  ‘It’s just a drink.’ She gives me a flirtatious smile and flutters her eyelashes as her fingers twist in the front of my T-shirt.

  I’ve seen that look hundreds of times. Just a drink, my arse. I know exactly where it will lead. Does she think I’m stupid?

  ‘No,’ I snap, taking a step back when she doesn’t seem to get the message. I’m a guy and I have needs, but even I know sleeping with her won’t end well.

  ‘Fine. Your loss.’

  I sigh with relief when she turns in a huff and storms back to the counter to grab her bag.

  ‘Enjoy your weekend … boss.’ The sarcasm in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed, but frankly I don’t care. She might be good at her job, but she’s not irreplaceable. I’m her employer, and she needs to remember that.