and punched the cinder block wall he’d been
leaning against. Searing pain flowed through his knuckles and up his arm in a rush
of sickening sensation.
Duncan
shouted his name, but he ignored his friend and looked down at his hand. The
shock of seeing his own blood there seemed to snap him out of his fog for a
moment and he was able to focus.
Three
weeks. It had been three long, blurry weeks since he’d written a word. He
couldn’t seem to force himself to even sit down at his generic hotel desk and
do anything more than stare at his Mac’s blank, accusing screen. He couldn’t
even check his email without feeling a prickle of unease trickle down his
spine.
Rawlings,
the subject of his latest true crime biography, had very simply ruined writing
for him. The act that had once given him so much pleasure and confidence now
filled him with terror. He wasn’t actually scared of Rawling himself. The
infamous serial killer was in jail where he belonged and would never see the
light of freedom again. No, it wasn’t that. It was something far, far worse
that crept through Kevin’s mind when he sat down to write about Rawlings and the
many, many women he had stalked, used, tortured and then strangled.
Duncan
was right. He was in denial. About so many things. It didn’t seem to matter
that he was on the brink of alienating his best friend, losing his current book
contract, and developing some serious addiction problems. He still desperately
wanted a drink to kill his momentary awareness and a woman to dull his senses.
He wanted these things more than his next breath. He knew all of this and yet
was unable to move away from the edge of disaster.
A
week ago Kevin had escaped Kerry’s bed and resolved to take control of his life
again, but it hadn’t worked. If anything, he was more lost than ever. And he
had no idea how to pull himself together again.
One
thing he did know was this: He owed Jamie an apology. He clung to that one
thought. It wasn’t much, but perhaps rectifying this one mistake was a step
towards getting himself back on track. He only hoped she wouldn’t make him feel
like a bigger tool than he felt like right this second.
Knowing
Jamie, she wouldn’t make this easy for him. For some reason, that thought made
him smile.
Chapter
Five
Love Law #2 – Men are Hunters.
I know this is going to sound very
anti-feminist, but it needs to be said. Please leave the chasing to the penis
brigade. Don't get me wrong. I am all about female empowerment. I encourage all
women to go after what they want in life. Be aggressive. Be a bitch when the
situation merits it. Work hard and get ahead in your chosen field. Stand up for
yourselves and inspire the next generation to do the same. Demand the respect
you deserve if it’s not handed to you. But please, when it comes to romance, do
not pursue men. It's just not natural. Years and years of evolution have
conditioned them to chase their prey. As a result, they are mistrustful when
the prey just lies down like a sick antelope. And that's exactly what we're
doing if we are willing to do all the work. They don't value women who make it
too easy for them. And it doesn't make sense. We have what they so desperately want.
It's as simple as that. Why give it away when you can make them work for it?
So, stop calling and leaving cutesy messages for that guy who never calls back.
Don't answer those late night texts asking, "Hey, what are you doing now?
Can I come over?" And above all else, do NOT show up at his home/work/gym
uninvited unless you’re in an established relationship. This is not
spontaneous, sexy behavior. It's stalking. And if you do it, you look like a
complete bunny-boiler. Let them figure out how to win you. That's their job.
Jamie
stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror at Steamworks and didn’t like
what she saw one bit. The pretty face with the delicately upturned nose and
smooth, pale skin was the same, but the eyes were hard and the full lips