Mr. Trouble

Jarred Maloney cracked open one eye, immediately shutting it as the shaft of sun blazed through to his pounding head. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth something horrid. What the hell happened?

“I see you are awake now.”

He cracked open his eyes again, focusing it on the sound of the voice. A very angry voice. It sounded suspiciously like Turner. His best friend did a great angry and broody. Had he passed out at his flat again? Sure enough, Turner was seated in the corner of the room, looking crisp and clean like he always did. Turner was a lawyer and a damn good one, but on occasion he was known to break loose. Jarred had the pictures to prove it. “Hey, Turn,” he said, wincing as his voice grated on his own headache.

“Jesus Jarred,” Turner said, his words coming out in a heartfelt sigh. “What happened last night?”

Jarred opened his eyes all of the way then, realizing that he wasn’t at Turner’s flat at all, but a hotel room instead. Well, he thought it was a hotel room. “Will you pull the curtains?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded pleading and pitiful.

Turner chuckled and pointed at the window where the damn light was coming from. “Well if the curtains were still attached to the wall, I could.”

Holding up his hand to block the sunlight, Jarred saw that the curtains were dangling from the curtain rod that looked like it was barely attached to the wall itself. Fuck him. How the hell had that happened?

“I assume you had a good time last night,” Turner was saying as Jarred rubbed a hand over his face, which still felt numb from the alcohol. “I couldn’t understand a word you were saying on your messages.”

“I left you messages?”

Turner nodded. “Ten to be exact. Thank God I am smart enough to put the thing on silent or we would be having this discussion hours ago.”

“What did I say?”

He shrugged. “Something about crazy women and inviting me to join, what did you call it? Your love den. Bloody hell Jarred, do you not know what you did last night?”

Amused, Jarred went to push himself up in the bed, his hand colliding with something warm. Make that soft and warm. He frowned.

“Oh yeah, you aren’t alone either,” Turner offered helpfully.

Jarred grinned and looked over, seeing two women snuggled up to each other. A blonde and a brunette, two of his favorites. Well, all women were his favorites. Tall, short, slim, athletic, curvy. Too bad he couldn’t remember a damn thing that happened last night. “I take it from your pinched face you didn’t join?” Jarred asked, looking over at Turner.

Turner arched a brow, looking nothing like the bloke who had drunkenly climbed the London Bridge in the middle of the night and pissed off the side to prove that he could. Jarred had the pictures to prove that as well. But, that was before Uni, when Turner got all serious. Jarred had never understood Turner’s change. After all, life was about living, right? “I’ll pass,” he finally said, looking down at his watch. “You’re going to be late for your appointment.”

“Isn’t my appointment with you?” Jarred grumbled, taking one long look at the women beside him. Was his mate really going to make him abandon this bed for him?

“You’re still late.”

Fuck. Apparently so. With a sigh, Jarred pulled back the covers and stood, the room spinning around him violently. Bile rose up in his throat and he forced it back down. Jarred wasn’t going to throw up in front of Turner, again. If he did, he would never hear the end of it. Not like Jarred was going to hear the end of this.

Naked, he looked around the room to get his mind off of the elephants doing salsa in his head and the tornado that had taken up residence in his gut. That was a hole in the wall, looking suspiciously like someone had been pushed hard against it. A flash of memory intruded on the dancing elephants. Him, with the brunette wrapped around his waist, shagging her hard, up against the wall.

Bottles littered the floor, various kinds of liquor and beer that he enjoyed from time to time. Clothes were strewn all over the floor and Jarred bent down to pick up his pants. He felt like shit and Turner was dragging his ass out of the bed. What sense did that make? More importantly, why was he allowing Turner to boss him around?

Oh yeah, he was the one that made sure Jarred got his trust fund checks monthly to keep this lifestyle up.

“Are you just going to stand there with your knob out all day or are you actually going to get dressed?”

Jarred shot him a wry smile as he thrust his legs in his jeans, buttoning them before hunting for his shirt. “What’s so important that we need to talk about anyway?”

Turner pushed himself out of the chair and smoothed out his dress pants, shaking out any wrinkles that might have occurred before grabbing his suit coat. “I already told you; I want to discuss it at the office.”

Jarred shook his head, the alcohol that he imbibed the night before sloshing around in his stomach uncomfortably. When Turner had called him the other day and said he had something important to discuss, Jarred had wondered why he wouldn’t just tell him then. He still didn’t understand why Turner was being so secretive about this entire conversation, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to breathe a word of it until they were sitting downtown.

One of the women in the bed stirred and Jarred looked back, taking in the creamy expanse of her back in the process. Turner was being an ass this morning making him leave like this. There were still hours of fun in that bed and Turner was being stupid to not want some of that action. With reluctance, Jarred got dressed and Turner walked him downstairs, allowing him to stop off to grab a cup of coffee in the process to counter the effects of the alcohol. When they walked outside, a chill hung in the air, tearing through the thin material of Jarred’s dress shirt. The weather was starting to turn now, the days growing shorter and the temperature a far cry from the warmth of the summer. Jarred glanced around, recognizing some of the landmarks, though he still didn’t know how he had ended up over here in East London. A few blocks to the left was the O2 Arena. The hotel was one on the fringes of the city, one that wasn’t particularly frequented by the wealthy of London. But it was near some of the clubs he enjoyed, which only made sense that he would go there instead of his own flat. One of his rules since Susan left, was never take anyone back to his flat.

“Aw man,” Jarred said as they approached Turner’s car. “You couldn’t drive the Porsche at least?”

Turner looked at him over the roof of his four door sedan, a frown on his face. “You know I don’t drive that car.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jarred grumbled, grabbing the passenger side door handle and yanking it open. “Just because your father gave it to you doesn’t mean you don’t have to drive it. I mean, this is a chick car and not in a good way.” Turner’s father was a real estate mogul who had built a veritable empire in Europe. Turner was his only son and for the love of Christ, Jarred couldn’t understand why Turner hated the fact that his father was filthy rich.

The two of them had met as boys in school, both the products of wealthy men who expected their sons to follow in their footsteps. They’d had many a scrape and narrow escape throughout the years and though Jarred gave Turner a hard time, he loved his mate. As far as he was concerned, they were family.

“Just shut up and get in,” Turner said as he climbed in the driver’s seat. Jarred climbed in the car and they were off, heading toward downtown where Turner’s office was located. Jarred leaned back on the seat and sipped his coffee, his head pounding behind his eyeballs. He enjoyed a good time and apparently had one of the best last night, even if he couldn’t remember it. Is it still a good time if you’re trying to numb out the pain? He shoved that thought aside.

“You can’t keep doing this, J,” Turner said after a few moments, his voice breaking the silence in the car. “You have to straighten yourself out. Go to work. Find a hobby. Something.”

Jarred grinned. “I have one.”

“Getting arse faced on a nightly basis is not a hobby.”

“It could be,” Jarred retorted, draining the rest of his coffee before placing the cup in the holder on the console. Hell, he’d made it a hobby over the last few years. He was known in the social scene, never turned away from a party and though his father hated the fact that his son was a loser in his eyes, at least his son hadn’t landed in jail yet.

“Come on Jarred,” Turner said as he pulled his car into the parking garage connected to the office building. “Surely there’s something you want to do with your life.”

“Oh, you mean like you?” Jarred asked with a harsh laugh. Turner had sold out for the working man’s life, a life Jarred couldn’t understand. “Forgive me if I don’t want to work my ass off for the middle man.”

“Sod off,” Turner muttered as he parked the car. “I keep your ass out of a sling. Remember that.”

Jarred grinned and climbed out of the car, following Turner into the lift that would lead them to Turner’s firm office. “And I pay you very well to do so.”

Turner let out a bark of laughter. “You pay me nothing. Your father pays my legal bills.”

Jarred shrugged. “Same thing.” After all, it was all to be his once the old man kicked the bucket. What he was going to do with it when that time came, he didn’t know.

The lift doors opened and a long legged blonde entered the lift, giving them both a once over before she turned around. Jarred took in her toned body encased in a suit appreciatively before looking over at Turner, nodding toward her. Turner’s head nearly fell off of his shoulders as he shook it vehemently, his eyes warning Jarred not to do what he already knew was coming. It was time for a bit of fun this morning. Jarred gave Turner a quick grin and tapped her on her shoulder, a cloud of expensive perfume filling his nostrils as she turned around. “Yes?” she asked, an amused smile on her face.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Jarred started out, “but my friend here, he needs to get laid and quick.”

Her eyes widened as she looked over at Turner, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here for the moment. “Is that right?”

“Desperate,” Jarred added, giving her a knowing look and nearly unable to contain his laughter. “You would be doing him a favor.”

“He’s not, don’t listen to him,” Turner finally forced out, coming out in a choked laugh. “He’s mentally unstable.”

“Unstable,” Jarred said. “But still able to get laid.”

The doors opened and she bailed out, her heels clicking hard on the polished wood floor as she hurried away. Jarred waited until the doors closed again before he burst into laughter, Turner socking him hard on the shoulder with his fist. “Please don’t try to do me any favors. Bloody hell, she will never speak to me again.”

“I think she was thinking about it until you threw out the whole mental instability piece,” Jarred answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You do need to get laid Turner. That necktie has gotten too tight around your neck.”

“Bugger off,” he said as the doors opened again and he walked out, his fists balled at his sides.

“Payback’s a bitch,” Jarred reminded him as he followed his friend, winking at the receptionist as they entered Turner’s domain. “Come on Turner, I’m only trying to help.”

“Sit down, Jarred.”

Jarred sat down in one of the comfortable leather chairs in front of Turner’s large oak desk, resisting the urge to prop his feet up on it. He’d already pushed his friend enough and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. “What’s up? What’s so important?”

Turner rested his elbows on the desk, his expression suddenly serious. “It’s about your trust fund Jarred.”

Jarred groaned. “Don’t tell me that he wants to cut it back again. He’s already tried that route.” His father had attempted to cut the money in half a few months ago in an effort to rile him up and it had worked, just not in the way that he wanted it to happen. Instead, Jarred had racked up tabs all over London in his father’s name and as a result, Harrison Maloney had been driven so crazy by the amount of collectors wanting their money that he’d restored the amount without a word. Jarred had proven a point to him that day, one that he thought his father wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“He’s cutting you off totally.”

Jarred’s grin slid from his face. “What did you say?”

Turner sighed, looking weary all of a sudden. “I’m sorry Jarred. He’s cutting the money at the end of the month. I’ve been instructed to drop the account effective immediately.”

Jarred rose from his chair, pushing it hard until it toppled over on the floor with a loud thud. The sound sliced through his pounding head but he didn’t care. “Cut me off?” Jarred was his son, his sole heir. “He can’t do that.”

“He already has,” Turner replied softly.

Jarred looked at him, panic and rage flowing in his blood. No way in hell he was going to let his father do this.

“No, no, no.”

Kinsley grabbed the letter off of her flat entrance door, her earlier good mood of her hellacious day ending now souring once more.“Ms. Wells,” it stated, the words on a neatly typed letterhead depicting the name of the building’s owners.“We are in the process of selling our flats and will disband the lease agreements at the end of the month. As a current occupant of one of our flats, we are giving you the first opportunity to purchase this one before it is listed. The current value of the flat is £450,000. The initial installment of £100,000 will be due at the end of the month to secure the impending purchase. As we start to prepare our flats for purchase, a building wide fumigation will take place at the end of the week. Please make other arrangements for two to three days. You will not be allowed back into the flat during this time. Please contact our real estate office with payment options and further details.”

She reread the letter again, panic welling in her throat. 450,000 pounds? That was an obscene amount of money for someone in her position. Tears clouded her eyes but she blinked them away, wrangling with the door to get it unlocked and walking inside the cool interior. She could not lose it right now, not where everyone could see at least.

After placing the groceries on the counter, she picked up the letter once more, hoping that she had been wrong in her first two reads. Nope. Everything was still there. Not only did she have to come up with 100,000 pounds in three weeks, she also had to vacate the place for a few days while they sprayed for bugs. Great. This was just great. She threw the letter on the counter and leaned against it, looking at the space she had leased for three years now. It was the perfect size for her, with one bedroom that overlooked a small walled garden and was close to the tube station, allowing her a quick way in and out to work each day. The neighborhood was quaint and quiet, where everyone waved to her as she walked down the street. She loved the flat and did not want to move. But it was so much more than just a flat. It showed her what she’d been able to do, without anyone’s help. She’d done this. All on her own. She’d built her world and now it was crumbling.

Slamming a fist on the counter, Kinsley let the tears fall. Now what was she supposed to do? The place was rent controlled. There was no way she could afford to move to a similar place. She paid her rent on time, never complained to the landlord and kept the place in great condition. But that’s not enough is it? Working hard will never be good enough.

Fishing her cell out of her purse, she quickly found her best friend Rachel’s number and pressed the button, listening to it dial her number in her ear. “Hello?” she said a minute later.

“Rachel,” Kinsley choked out.

“Kinsley? What’s wrong?” She and Rachel had been friends since they were little, considering they were also cousins, but she was more like a sister to Kinsley than just a cousin. Many a time Kinsley had wondered what she would do without her in her life. “They’re selling my flat.”

“What?” Rachel’s voice was calm, even. “What do you mean?”

Kinsley sighed, tears gathering in her eyes once more. “The flat. The owners are selling them. I have to come up with 100,000 quid by the end of the month or I’m out.”

“100,000 pounds? Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately,” she muttered. “They are fumigating too. I have to find somewhere else to stay at the end of the week.”

“That sucks,” Rachel replied, disdain in her voice. “I can’t believe they would do that. But if you need, you can always come stay with me.”

“Thank you, I love you, but the commute from North London will kill me. I know I can probably provision a company flat for the time being,” Kinsley said, wiping the tear that had escaped down her cheek unchecked. “But what am I going to do?” She had nowhere else to go. Her job as an administrative assistant paid decently but nowhere near enough to front that kind of money. Besides, Kinsley’s tuition to continue the last semester of her Master’s degree was due and she was so, so close to having it complete. An advanced degree meant new open doors at her job and she couldn’t afford to take a step back. Not when she’d worked so hard.

“Times like this I wished I lived closer, and that Jamison’s family wasn’t here to stay,” Rachel continued. “I’m sorry Kinsley.”

Kinsley heard the worry in her cousin’s voice and knew that if she could, Rachel would do anything to help, including letting her stay with her and her fiancé, Jamison. They were currently on the countdown to their wedding day and with Jamison being from Ireland, his family had come to London to stay the rest of the time to help out with the wedding plans. “It’s okay Rach,” she finally said, drawing in a deep breath. “I’ll figure out something.”

“Maybe you can find another job,” she suggested. “You know, to supplement the extra money?”

Kinsley snorted. “It would have to be the best paying job in the world.” Flipping burgers wasn’t going to work in a pinch.

“Okay, well maybe you should just talk to them you know? You’re a good tenant. They will want to keep you around.”

Kinsley shook her head. While she was a good tenant, she was also the difference between a paltry sum and a payday on an older flat. There was no way they were going to give her an inch. Kinsley was going to be kicked out of the home she had made unless she hit the lotto or had a rich family member that was about to kick the bucket.

“Don’t give up so soon,” Rachel said. “You have access to the company flats right? Go stay there.”

“That’s really my only option.” Kinsley thought about the nice flat in the wealthy side of town that was owned by her boss, Maloney Motors. Maloney Motors was one of the biggest automotive companies in Europe, specializing in luxury cars. They even had an F1 team. She worked for the owner of the company, Harrison Maloney, in the company headquarters based here in London as his administrative assistant.

Part of her job was to keep track of the visitors all over the world and stick them in some of the flats that the company owned for their comfort so naturally she had the keys to all of them. There was one that wasn’t being utilized currently and wouldn’t be for a few weeks at least. Technically, she could move in there temporarily to escape the fumigation. “I don’t know, though,” Kinsley said, biting her lip. “What if I’m caught? I mean, I’ve always been told to take what I need, but this seems like overstepping.”

“Oh come on, like old Maloney would can you,” Rachel laughed. “Do it and ask for forgiveness later.”

She looked around her own flat, knowing full well she couldn’t afford to rent out a room for the weekend on her current money, especially if she was going to try and finagle a way to pay for this place. “I’m tired. I’m going to go.”

“Wait,” Rachel barked into the phone. “Don’t forget about your fitting tomorrow for your bridesmaid dress. I can’t believe we are getting down to the weeks now. I am so excited but I’m worried I won’t fit into my dress with all of this food Jamison’s mom is fixing.”

“You’ll be fine,” Kinsley answered, a soft smile on her face. Rachel was going to be the perfect bride and even if she gained two stone, Jamison was still going to love her. They were disgustingly in love with each other and every time Kinsley was around the two of them, it made her question why she hadn’t found anyone yet. “I’ll be there.”

“You better be,” she said before clicking off. Kinsley placed the phone on the counter, her eyes sliding to the infernal letter that had effectively ruined her day. What was she going to do? Kinsley was the last of the Wells line, her parents dying in a car accident when she was fifteen. The roads had been slick with rain and they had been coming back from a weekend in the country. The police had stated they hadn’t even seen the tree in the middle of the road. She had been moved to her aunt and uncle’s home and she and Rachel had become roommates. After graduation, she had gone to arts college and Kinsley had found the job with the Maloney corporation, able to save up enough to move out and move on with her life. But now, she felt like she was taking steps backward in her life. She was on the verge of acquiring her MBA, which would make her eligible for a manager’s position that had opened recently, but until she got that piece of paper in her hands, there wasn’t a thing she could do. Kinsley was stuck.

“What have I done to deserve this?” she asked aloud, looking up at the tiled ceiling. It was like fate was messing with her and she didn’t know what to do about it.