Chapter 21: Mr Garcia: Chapter 21

The echo of the club connecting with the ball can be heard as it echoes around us.

Julian raises his eyebrow, smirking, happy with his shot.

“Fuck you,” I mutter in disgust.

I go through the clubs in my golf bag, sizing up the distance I have to hit the ball to. Hmm, which one?

I decide on the nine iron, I take it out and clean the head.

Spencer pulls his towel out to do the same, and he winces. He holds the hand towel to his nose and pulls it away in disgust. “Fuck, this stinks like shit.”

I take a ball out and walk to the tee off.

Spencer smells his hand towel again. “Oh, fuck me. It smells like a sweaty whore bag.”

I position myself to hit the ball.

Behind me, I hear Spencer inhale it once more. “No, sweaty ball sack. Smell this, Masters.” He holds his towel out toward Julian. “Does this smell like sweaty ball sack or sweaty whore bag?”

“How would I fucking know?” Julian asks dryly. “I’ve never smelt either of those things.”

Spencer chuckles, clearly amused.

“Shut up,” I mutter as I line my club up. I pull it back over my shoulder, and just as I’m about to take a swing…

“It stinks really bad,” Spencer says, interrupting my concentration.

I hit the ball, and it goes careering off to the side.

“Fucking hell, Spencer!” I snap. “Shut the fuck up. I’m taking off my shot because of interference.”

He holds his hand towel toward me. “If you would just smell this thing, you would know what I’m saying.”

I snatch it off him and stuff it in the garbage bin as I walk past it.

“Good riddance,” Spencer huffs to the bin behind me.

We walk off toward my ball. “So, April has decided that we aren’t having sex anymore,” I say.

The two boys screw up their faces. “Why?”

I shrug. “I don’t fucking know. Something about intimacy or some bullshit.”

“What has no sex got to do with intimacy?” Masters asks.

“You tell me. Apparently, her therapist has been telling her to do this for years, but she hasn’t wanted to do this with anyone else before me.”

The boys’ eyes meet mine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Basically, I’m the only one she can stop having sex with. The old boyfriends still got it.” I exhale heavily. “And get this… she even made a bet on it. If I give in and have sex with her, she wants to fuck my ass with a strap on dildo.”

Julian’s face falls in horror while Spencer throws his head back and laughs hard. “Fuck me, Seb. For someone with such an innocent name, she sure is a fucking deviant.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, rest assured it isn’t happening.”

“What isn’t?”

“All of the above. No fucking of her or any fucking of me.” We get to my ball, and I drag it out from the tree. We hear a phone ringing somewhere.

“Whose phone is that?” Masters asks.

“Not mine,” I reply. “I accidently left mine in the car.”

A ding sounds. Someone has a text message.

Spencer digs his out of his golf bag and reads the text. “Oh, get fucked.” He drags his hand down his face. “Not that. Anything but fucking that.”

“What?”

“Charlotte wants to go to Edward’s for dinner.”

Masters and I chuckle. Spencer’s brother-in-law is the bane of his existence.

“Happy wife, happy life,” Masters replies casually. “It could be worse. She could want to fuck you with a dildo.”

They both burst out laughing, and I roll my eyes… again.

Fuckers.

“You ride that thick fake cock, big boy,” Spencer winks at me.

Masters gyrates his hips and pretends to slap something.

I exhale heavily as I take my next shot. “I don’t know why I tell you losers anything.”

“Because you need us to take you to the hospital when she breaks you in.”

They laugh again.

I slam my club back into my golf bag and storm off in the direction of my ball. “I need new friends.”

Four hours later, I get into my car to find my phone where I left it, on charge.

I pick it up.

7 Missed Calls: April

That’s weird. She never calls me. I dial her number.

”You’ve reached April Bennet. I’m sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Please leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.”

“Hi, babe. I’m on my way home now,” I leave on her voicemail.

An hour later, I pull into my street to see two police cars parked in my driveway. The front door to the house is open, and I can see people moving around inside. “What in the world…?”

April.

I pull up and rush inside. “What’s going on?”

The policeman turns to me. “Mr. Garcia?”

“Yes.”

“It appears you had a home invasion.”

“W-where’s April?” I stammer.

“She’s been transferred to Memorial Hospital by ambulance.”

“She’s hurt?” I gasp.

“She called emergency services because someone was in the house. When the patrol car got here, they found her unconscious.”

My eyes widen. “What the fuck?”

“We’re dusting the house for fingerprints, but unfortunately the security cameras weren’t recording. Do you have any idea why they were off?”

“That’s impossible. They’re always recording.”

“Yes, but—”

She’s hurt.

“Not now!” I yell as panic sets in. I turn and run to my car. I take off at speed.

Has she been shot?

I grip the steering wheel with force, and I drive like a maniac.

This isn’t happening.

The traffic is backed up, and I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “Come on!” I yell.

My phone rings through my car speakers. It’s Spencer.

I click accept. “Oh my fucking God!” I yell. “There’s been a break-in at my house. April is hurt. She’s gone to the hospital in an ambulance.”

“What the fuck? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know, I’m in traffic, and…” I peer up the road to see that the traffic is static for miles. “Fuck it!” I punch the steering wheel.

“What hospital?” he asks.

“Memorial.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

I hit the end button and do a U-turn in the middle of the road. Cars honk their horns. I drive up and over the curb and cut the corner to take a shortcut. Twenty minutes later, I screech to a halt outside the front of Memorial Hospital. I get out of my car and run to the reception area.

“Hello. A-April Bennet has been brought in by ambulance…”

The lady fakes a smile, as if annoyed by my rudeness. “Hello.”

“Yes, hi.” I widen my eyes. I don’t have time for you, bitch. “Where is she?”

The woman slowly types the details into her computer, and then she waits.

“Well—”

“I’m looking, sir,” she cuts me off. “What was the surname?”

“Bennet.”

She looks again.

“Oh my God…. will you hurry up?” I snap. “I don’t have time for this.”

The woman’s eyes rise to meet mine, and then slowly go back to her computer.

For fuck’s sake.

“Here she is,” she replies, monotone. “She’s still in Accident and Emergency.”

“Where’s that?”

“Go back out through the front doors and turn right. It’s about fifty meters. You will see a large Accident and Emergency sign.”

“Thank you.” I run out the doors, down to A&E, and over to reception. “Hello, my girlfriend April Bennet has been brought in by ambulance,” I pant.

The nurse looks up and does a double take. “Mr. Garcia?”

Oh no, she recognizes me. “Yes. Where is April, please?”

She types into her computer.

For fuck’s sake, doesn’t anyone know what is going on around here?

“Take a seat, sir. I’ll have a nurse come out and get you.”

“I need to go in now!” I snap. “It’s an emergency.” My eyes hold hers. “Please.”

She exhales, stands, and she opens the security door. “This way, please.”

I follow her down the corridor and into what looks like a triage room. There are numerous beds in one huge room. Each bed is surrounded with a curtain.

“This way.” We go to a cubicle, and she peers in. “Hello.” She smiles. “I have April’s partner here.”

“Yes, come in,” a male voice replies.

The woman pulls back the curtain, and my face falls. April is lying in bed with a deep-purple and black eye. She offers me a sleepy smile. A doctor is with her.

“Oh my God.” I rush to her side, bend and kiss her temple. “Are you alright?” I whisper as I brush the hair back from her forehead.

She nods with a soft smile. “I’m fine, Seb.”

“You are not fine. You’ve suffered a serious concussion,” the doctor interrupts.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Someone broke into the house.”

“They hit you?”

“No,” she huffs. “I chased them and tripped on the rug. I fell into the marble kitchen counter.”

My eyes widen. “You chased them?”

“Excuse me,” the doctor says. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He walks out of the room, and I bend and kiss April’s forehead. “I’m so sorry. I left my phone in the car, and—’

“Sebastian, it was Helena.”

I pull back to look at her. “What?”

“It was Helena in the house. I was watching her from upstairs through the surveillance cameras. She was looking for something in your office, then she kicked Bentley. I snapped and marched down there.”

I frown, imagining the scenario.

“Sebastian, she had something hidden behind her back. She took something from your filing cabinet. I was chasing her to get it back.”

My blood runs cold, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears. “What was it?”

“I couldn’t see, but she got it out of the filing cabinet.”

“Have you told anyone else this?” I whisper.

She shakes her head. “No, I wanted to talk to you first. She didn’t recognize me.”

Adrenaline surges through my veins. “Don’t tell anyone. Say you saw nothing.”

“It will be on the cameras.”

“They weren’t recording.”

“Why not?” April’s eyes widen. “What are you going to do?”

What needs to be done.

The curtain flicks open. “Time for your CT scan.” The nurse smiles.

“Don’t you worry.” I bend and kiss April on the temple, faking a smile. “Rest, my love.” I push her hair back from her forehead. “I’ll wait here for you, okay?”

She gives me a weak smile before she’s wheeled away.

I put my hands on my hips and turn to face the wall. My heart is pumping hard, and fury fills my every cell.

This time, Helena has gone too far.