Chapter 4.

Friday night. I lay on the floor of Jim's room, contemplating my two options for the night: a) Stuff my face with cake, or b) Stuff my face with ice cream. I have tried - and failed horrendously - to let go of my addiction for ice cream and cake, seeing as they do nothing but add to my body fat.

Tony always finds a way to hide all junk foods in the house, but what he doesn't know is that you can never hide things from a Reporter. Especially not my food.

He's always like, 'April it's for your health'. He should worry about his own health; I'm fine. I'm great.

Speak of the devil. He still hasn't replied to any of my calls and I'm as miserable as ever.

My life, right now, is as fucked up as Michael Jackson's plastic surgery... which is why Jim and Jacqueline don't get to have their alone time. I sort of left my house and moved into Jim's, to live on his couch. Jacqueline also has really been a great source of entertainment and it turns out she isn't as boring as I thought she was. I didn't know her well before because, anytime she visits, I'm always busy with work or with my younger brother, whose University is two hours away from me.

Jacqueline and I really have a lot of things in common.

We're both a sucker for adventure and entertainment, and we have a mutual attraction to the media. While I'm a Reporter... um... well, I was a reporter... Jacqueline's a very famous writer who has won the New York best seller and has been on TV shows. I also may (or may not) have been learning a little bit of French from her. I have to admit, that language is... sexy.

I push myself off the floor and walk to the living room, to check if Jim's done with dinner. Jim may have come from a rich background, but his house is not flashy. It's actually elegant and simple. It consists of a living room, with a sofa bed which is now my best friend, and our high-school graduation picture is hung at the entrance of the room. A kitchenette is in a corner of the living room and, although small, it's fully equipped with things more expensive than my whole house.

I love the refrigerator the best. Maybe it's because it has more goodies in it than the whole of Walmart...

"Guys?" I call out for them and make my way to the kitchen, where I see them both making out against the kitchen counter. "I told you guys to make dinner, not babies."

"Dinner? You didn't tell her?" Jacqueline says to her boyfriend, her tone laced with a strong French accent. Her look is chic. Subtly sexy. Natural but elegant. Her grey eyes are defined by the black eyeliner that starts at the lash line. The eyelids are smoldering under the eyeshadow and her brows are emphasized with an eyebrow pencil.

The best thing of all is her skin. It's not overly-white like mine. It's squeaky, clean and smooth. All I can think is 'hot! hot! hot!'. Remind me: why didn't I come to this world as a French lady?

Jim eyes my pajama shorts and looks down at Jacqueline. "I don't think she knows yet."

He, too, is dressed like he's about to go out.

I feel like I'm missing something here. I see them exchange glances, and I swear they communicate telepathically because they both look like they're trying not to laugh. "Ok, what is going on?"

"How do I put this in a suitable way...?" Jim begins, genuinely considering the question. Then he looks at me. "You stink."

"I do?" I gasp and try not to look disconcerted.

"No, you don't," Jacqueline sighs and she moves around the counter to where I'm standing, sneaking her arm in around mine. "What Jim is trying to say is that you need a little bit of... exposure. Go out with us, have some fun. We know you're going through some tough times in your life, right now, but staying at home all day won't help anything."

"What are you talking about? I go out all the time."

"You're on that couch the whole day, April," Jim points out. "You sleep almost half of the day. You are the epitome of miserable."

"Jimmy Quinn Thomas..." I warn and glare at him, even though I know he is a hundred percent right.

"That's not my middle name," he deadpans.

"What you need tonight, Jeune Femme, is a day out. And I think you also need to get laid. You said your boyfriend hasn't been around for some days, so I think you-"

I interrupt. "I am not cheating on my boyfriend."

"Even if there's the possibility he's cheating on you?" Jim says and something inside me dies at the thought of it.

I've thought of that, too, but hearing it out loud makes me feel sick in the stomach. "I don't deserve all this." I choke out, "I've always been a good girl. I send my parents gift cards every month and visit my brothers as much as I can... I just don't get why bad things are happening to me." I can feel my panic-attack from earlier coming back and tears well up in my eyes.

Jim and Jacqueline glance at each other before giving me a knowing look.

I sigh and bite my lip. "You guys are right. I need a day out."

"Oui!" Jacqueline exclaims and digs in her purse excitedly, bringing out a makeup brush and beaming at me. "Now go in there and make some magic."

Suddenly, I don't want to be trapped in the house, drowning in my sorrows. I'm going out, I'm having fun and I'm doing it today. Even if someone tries to stop me.

*****

"Drinks are on me," Jim yells, over the loud music blaring in our ears.

We're at a club, where Jim thought it was best to 'hang out'. I would've preferred a karaoke bar or something, to be honest, but I guess I don't have much of a choice in the matter.

Jacqueline is on the dance floor, swaying her hips to the sound of the music, completely oblivious to the fact that literally all the guys in the club are goggling at her.

I'm wearing a knitted dress, a pair of leggings and some boots of Jacqueline's that she forced me to wear. That girl is a ball of energy. A super-hot ball of energy, at that.

"I think you need to take your drinking down a notch." Jim makes a grab for the eighth tequila shot I've consumed today.

I'm surprised I haven't already passed out on the floor. "Ok, Dad," I say sarcastically, letting him dispose of the drink. I roll my eyes as Jim takes a seat at the counter beside me.

"You shouldn't be messed up because of him..." he begins.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, pretending I don't know that he means Tony. "You're the one who said I needed 'exposure', remember?"

"I said you needed exposure so you can have fun, not exposure so you can finish all the alcohol in the bar." He puts both his hands on my shoulders and cups them. "You're stronger than this. You know you are. So snap out of it while I go and save my girlfriend from those sex-crazed bastards."

My eyes follow his and I spot Jacqueline talking to a group of guys, near the DJ, charming them out of their pants.

I whip my head back to Jim and see that he's already out of his chair and marching towards them. Jim's always been protective of the people he loves. To him, it's kind of second nature.

Back in high school, he once got detention for breaking a guy's face, just because the guy looked at me too much.

Don't get me wrong; Jim's not aggressive, or anything. He's just allergic to bullshit. I still think he went overboard by breaking that dude's face though.

Standing up on my already wobbly feet, I stagger towards the restroom to empty my alcohol-filled bladder. When I drink, all liquids go to my bladder, which must be why I don't easily get drunk.

But do I get tipsy? Um... Yes. A lot.

I giggle when I emerge from the restroom to see an older woman hitting on a guy who's sitting alone at another counter. His face shows exactly how much he wants to escape.

"Watch where you're going, bitch!" comes a very tiny female's voice, when I shoulder-bump into her.

I bow my head quickly in representation of an apology, deciding to hurry away before it gets any worse... 

"April?" It wasn't the girl's voice, this time. It was a guy's, a voice that has been etched into my memory since high school, a voice that used to make my heart beat a hundred times faster than usual.

But this time my heart doesn't beat faster. Instead, uncontrollable anger pulses through my veins as I turn around to face the one and only Tony Moriah.