Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama), Carole Williams [ebook reader 8 inch .TXT] 📗

written all over his face, he watched her smile and remove the tiny packet of cocaine from her bag.  He felt a rush of anticipation, forgetting that he had just discovered he had been committing incest with her.  In the general scheme of things, it didn’t really matter.  So what if they had had sex?  No-one here knew they were related.  He wasn’t going to tell anyone and he doubted very much if she would.  All that was important was getting his hands on that cocaine.  He reached out but she held it away from him.  He stumbled to his feet, and crashed against her, desperate to get to the one thing which would make him feel okay for a while.  “Bitch!  Let me have it … now!”

He was so weak it was easy for Delia to push him back into his chair.  “No.  Not yet,” she said determinedly.  “You have to listen first.”

“Oh, God.  Make it quick,” he groaned pitifully.

“You’re dead broke, Rocky.  The money has all gone.  Bills are flooding in and if they’re not paid by next month you’ll lose the house … everything.  There’ll be nothing for it but the streets.  You’ll have nowhere to live and no money to feed your habit …  and if you think I shall hang around, you have another think coming.”

“We’ll make more.  Lots more.  Don’t panic.  I’ve had an idea for another hit … this one will be really big.  I’ve been thinking about it all week and on Monday we’ll get together and start practising.  I promise.  It’ll be bigger and better than “Catch Me.”  We’ll make a fortune with it.”

“You’ve already spent a fortune … especially on this stuff,” she waved the tiny packet in his face.  This isn’t cheap and I’ve been buying it for you for weeks now and I simply can’t keep it up.”

“Sell something then.  Christ, there must be something around here that’s worth a bit.  The car, sell the car.  It’s a Mercedes.  It must be worth something. We’ll get cabs everywhere.”

“Oh, you jerk.  The car is leased.  It can’t be sold … in fact it has to go back this week because the payments haven’t been made.”

“Just give me the bloody packet,” he almost yelled.  “I can’t deal with this.  I can’t think straight now.”

He was crying but Delia’s heart was cold as ice and she looked at him with disgust.  He was a pathetic specimen of the human race and she had to rely on him to help her achieve her goal in securing her future back at Canleigh.  God help him if he cocked it up.

“Okay,” she pretended to relent.  “But only if you promise to do as I say.”

“Anything.  Anything … whatever you want.”

“I can help out with cash for a while longer.  I’ve a little more money,” she lied, not wanting him to know her real worth, “it will buy you what you need for a while but as for the long term …  there’s only one way out I can think of … but you’ll have to help … do exactly as I say.  Do you understand?” she urged, flicking the packet tantalisingly.

“Yes!  Oh, God!  I can’t wait any longer.  You’re killing me,” he screamed.  “For pity’s sake ….”

“Promise me then.  Promise that you will do exactly as I ask,” she said threateningly.

“Okay.  Okay.  Anything … I promise,” he yelled.

Smiling wryly, she handed it to him, sat back in her chair to sip her orange and watch her stupid brother roll out a line and snort it up his nose.  How many times had she watched him do that now?  What a complete and utter idiot he was.

It didn’t take long before his breathing returned to normal and his hands steadied.  Delia grimaced.  He thought he was so desirable.  The family resemblance was definitely there but he was so simple … couldn’t reason or think things through properly, purely because of his drug dependence.  He was totally useless.  An imbecile.  He hadn’t a clue that she had deliberately sought him out to help her wreck revenge on her family and regain all she had lost.

It had all been so easy.  Arriving in Boston she had checked into a small hotel, made a few enquiries and soon found out where the band was performing.  The previous year they had toured America but interest in them was waning since none of their released singles had the same impact as their first and other up and coming bands quickly became the focus of screaming young girls.  The only bookings they could get now were a couple of times a month in the Boston locality.   Delia went along, curious to see what her half-brother looked like and whether it was worth making herself known to him.  She already had an inkling of a plan in her mind as to how he could help her with her main goal in life from what she had been told of him by Paul O’Connor.  It was certainly a possibility and all she had to cling to back then … and now.

Delia looked at Rocky, who was resting his head on the back of the chair with his eyes closed.  He wasn’t asleep but in a relaxed, euphoric state which would help her get through to him more easily.  She sat forward in her chair and prodded his foot gently with hers.

“Feeling better?”

“Um,” came the reply.

She waited a while before she spoke again.  When she first set eyes on him at the first gig she attended it was obvious he was already heavily dependent on drugs, as were the remaining members of the band.  Their music was wild and offbeat, notes were missed and they all looked unkempt and undesirable to all but a few in the audience.  Watching Rocky staggering around on the stage was mildly amusing for Delia.  He looked