The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 52 - Team Ally... Team J.J

One month into the job and I can't believe how happy I am. Being back in a school feels amazing, especially being in the library. Being around all the books is soothing and inspiring. So much so, that I finally plucked up the courage to call Marisa and asked her if I could resume my lessons. 

Being the sweetest person in the world, she agreed to take me back on, even though I had pretty much lost track of my diploma. I missed two assignment deadlines and I probably won't be allowed to take the exams in May because of that. But I decided that's okay. It's only a minor setback in the grand scheme of things. I'm not giving up, not now that I've finally started to regain some momentum.

My colleagues are nice enough. They're helpful and I can tell they're trying their best to make me feel welcome. Against my natural instinct, I agreed to join them for drinks after refusing their offer three times, preferring to stay curled up on Jeremy's couch with one of my mother's books. But that lost its appeal after being interrupted more than once by the master of the house and his soup of the day.

Unfortunately, I got so drunk the P.A. had to drive me back and help me up to the apartment. I fumbled with my keys for an eternity and dropped them noisily to the floor a few times before Robert took the clinking clump of metal from my hands and tried to find the right one. Then a fuming Jeremy, who out of all nights had chosen that night to stay at home, opened the door in tracksuit bottoms and a ripped, bare chest that I shamelessly appreciated in my drunken state. 

"Whoa! Mornin' J.J! This is Ro'ert!" I slurred holding on to Robert's broad shoulders. "Ro'ert this is J.J. You should ditch your shirts more often. Maybe it would take me longer to figure out how annoying you are."

But Jeremy didn't take any notice of me or my wandering index finger as I slid it over his chest making a sizzling sound. He was too busy glaring at Robert until the man was positively squirming and left without saying goodbye. 

Jeremy helped me into my room and out of my clothes. I asked him if he was working out more. He ordered me to go to sleep and practically ran out of my room, slamming the door behind him.

The next morning, J.J. went back to avoiding me and the food in the fridge went back to being split into Team Ally and Team Jeremy. I made it a point to eat from his side of the fridge, just to irritate him, and this turned our family feud into a cold war. 

Jeremy makes himself as scarce as possible while I go out of my way to make my presence known, leaving my stuff all over the place, knowing it drives him crazy. I always make sure there are flowers on the kitchen island and four or five hairpins on his sink. I even sprayed my perfume all over his couch. 

It's done nothing to deter him from his strategy though. The only way I can tell he's at home is if I hear some random girl moaning his name from behind the door of his study or witness her walk of shame after being dismissed by The Boss.

True to his reputation, the number of women I've seen leaving the apartment is impressive. Just yesterday, I was in the kitchen making coffee when a woman with very long, very pink hair strolled out of his room butt-naked, completely unfazed by the fact that Jeremy had another woman in his kitchen and asked me where the bathroom was.

And yet, as luck would have it, amongst all the lady traffic, I was the lucky girl who opened the door when Jeremy's father decided to pay him a rare and unexpected visit. I knew who the man was as soon as I looked into his livid face and coked-up, ice-blue eyes.

He took one quick look at me and spat, "So, you're the whore who's keeping my son away from the office."

I barely had time to register his words when Jeremy stormed out of the study, fists clenched and eyes blazing, and ordered me to go to my room. Stunned to my core, I obeyed like a dutiful dog and spent the next ten minutes with my ear pressed to the door listening to his father chastise him relentlessly about how reckless and ungrateful he is and that he will never make something good of himself.

I felt horrible. Jeremy said several times before that his father was hard on him but I had no idea it was this bad. Then, the yelling stopped and was replaced by a great, crashing sound followed by a loud thud and a strangled yelp. Without thinking, I yanked open the door and ran out to the living room, almost slipping on the scattered fragments of what used to be a white sculpture of a naked contortionist. My eyes followed the trail until they found Jeremy pressing his father up against the wall, his fists twisted in the man's collar, his eyes bulging out of his red face and his mouth contorted in an ugly grimace. I shouted for Jeremy to put his father down but I doubt he even heard me. 

"You're pathetic," Mr Cordina spat. "You're just a pathetic little child who doesn't know what's good for him even when it's handed to you on a silver platter. You're nothing without me."

His eyes glazed in and out of focus as he spoke. Beads of sweat were forming on his balding head and a cruel smirk spread slowly over his lips. Jeremy's breathing was getting heavier and I could see his fists digging deeper into his chest until Mr Cordina started coughing and somehow laughing at the same time. The sound was nauseating. He wasn't breathing and Jeremy was still seeing red. He was going to kill him.

"Jeremy, let go. It's not worth it," I pleaded putting a hand on his elbow.

But his father was ruthless. "That's right. Listen to the whore. That's always worked for you, huh?"

The fear in my stomach outweighed my disgust. I was certain Jeremy would let the man's words get to him, pushing him over the edge.

Thankfully, he leaned closer to his father's face and gritted, "Watch your fucking mouth. You're in my house now. That shit might work on my mother but it won't work on me. Get. Out."

He finally let his father fall to a crumpled heap on the floor, the harsh expression wiped clean off his face and I let out a long breath of relief while Jeremy recomposed himself into the proud and arrogant man I am accustomed to. As his father scrambled out through the front door, coughing and massaging his throat, Jer turned his attention to me. Anger and regret flashed simultaneously across his face and he marched wordlessly back to his study before I could choke out a single word.