A Different Game Read online

  A Different Game

  A Wrong Game Novel

  Charlie M. Matthews

  Contents

  Title

  Other Books By Charlie M. Matthews

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Epilogue

  Want More…

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  A Different Game

  ©2018 Charlie M. Matthews

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except that of small quotations used in critical reviews and promotions via authentic blogs.

  A Different Game is a work of fiction. Any names, towns and establishments are that of the author’s imagination and therefore, fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, events or any other incident is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design:

  L.J. Stock of L.J. Designs

  EDITED BY:

  Victoria L. James

  &

  Katleen Lamour

  LINE EDIT:

  Victoria L. James

  Promotions:

  Wendy Shatwell and Claire Allmendinger

  of Bare Naked Words.

  WWW.BARENAKEDWORDS.CO.UK

  FORMATTING:

  L.J. Stock of L.J. Designs

  CHARLIE ON SOCIAL MEDIA:

  Facebook – www.facebook.com/cmmatthewsauthor/

  Twitter – www.twitter.com/c_mmatthews

  Instagram – www.instagram.com/authorcharliematthews

  Other Books By Charlie M. Matthews

  Road To Wonderland Series

  Scott Jenkins’ Road to Wonderland

  THE WRONG GAME SERIES

  The Wrong Game – Taylor and Lola

  A Different Game – Jake and Melanie

  Dedicated to

  My readers. For always believing in me when I struggle to believe in myself, and for allowing me to follow my dream when I was once so certain it would never be possible. I love each and every one of you.

  1

  Hey, brat,

  It’s me. I tried to call you this morning but you must’ve been out. I left a message on the answering machine. I guess you didn’t get it. I’m still here doing what I should have done a long time ago. It’s hard. So fucking hard. But I have to try. I want to try. I can’t be that guy anymore. I won’t let myself be that person again. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you to celebrate your birthday. Seventeen, hey? You’ll be heading off to college soon, living the dream. I hope I can be there to see you through it all. Me—the old me, not the one I have burdened you with for such a long time. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting you through it all. I wish I could say that I understand how hard it must have been for you, but I don’t. The drugs... they don’t just make you high, they turn you into a selfish bastard, too. One who lives each day for the next fix and nothing else. I stopped caring about how it made you feel and I truly am sorry for that. I’m going to do this, though… for you, and to prove to Mum and Dad that I can be a better person. I can be the son they deserve. I can be the brother you deserve.

  The day Dad brought me here I was a mess. I hated him and I lashed out through fear of what was to come. I stayed that way for a while. I was angry with everyone. Mum and Dad, the nurses here at Hamilton. God, I was even angry with you! I hated knowing that wherever you were you would be doing great, working hard and studying even harder. I wanted that. I wanted to be successful like I know you will be one day. And you will be. I know you don’t always feel like you matter. Please know that you do. And when I come back, I’m gonna make damn well sure you realise that. I know my promises won’t mean much to you after all I’ve done, but I promise you this time will be different.

  I’m sorry I was angry with you. I wasn’t really. I just wasn’t thinking straight.

  I wish I could say that I’m getting better every day, but I’m not. Being here is much worse than anything I could ever have imagined. The cravings get so bad that sometimes I actually think I’m going to die. Sometimes I wish that was true. I hate feeling this way—so out of control. I’m ashamed to admit that the nurses haven’t had it easy with me. They’re tough as shit, though. They don’t take any of the crap I throw at them. Now I can see why Dad sent me here. I guess money has its advantages. The staff must be earning a shit tonne having to put up with me.

  I’m not sure when I’ll be able to write next. We’re only allowed limited access to the outside world. Apparently it can lead to a major setback.

  Mum said your exams went well. I’m proud of you.

  I miss you, kid, and your laugh, as well as that creepy smile when you’re up to no good. Hell, I even miss that shit Taylor Swift song you constantly played on repeat. I know it wasn’t my choice to be here but I’m glad I came. No matter how hard it is, I needed this, but what I wouldn’t give to hear a decent tune again that isn’t from the swinging twenties. I’d love to tear my car around the track behind Billy’s house. Shit, I’d even settle for old Swifty if it meant I got to hear anything other than patients vomiting or the sounds of Bessie Smith around this joint. Don’t ask me how I know her damn name. I think Coraline likes to drum that shit into our heads in the hopes it’ll block out the bad thoughts.

  Did I mention that it’s hot as hell here? All the money thrown into running this place and you’d think they’d have a/c.

  Anyway, look, I’ve really gotta shoot. Tell Mum and Dad I said hi. And Mel… I love ya, kid.

  Shawn

  Twenty-four.

  That was how many times I had pulled the letter from the inside pocket of my handbag where I kept it hidden. I’d read it at least twenty-four times, yet the words never changed. They were the same as they had been the very first time I opened it. On August 1st 2013, to be precise. It was hard to believe that almost four years had been and gone. It was as if time continued to pass me by but I was still stuck in that same year, living the same nightmare over and over again.

  The periods and commas remained in place. The ending was still very much the same. I continued to hope that the next time I opened it the words would have miraculously changed, that Shawn would have written to let me know that he was clean and coming home.

  They didn’t…

  He wasn’t…

  It took me up to the seventeenth time of opening the letter before I realised that nothing had changed at all. It was
the same day that I lost all hope and finally admitted to myself that Shawn wasn’t coming back.

  He was gone.

  The outcome would always be the same.

  Shawn was dead.

  And when he died, I did, too.

  I swiped angrily at my cheeks and took in a deep breath. I stuffed the letter back inside my Michael Kors handbag, forced a cheery smile onto my face and crept through the door to Lillie’s—the clothing store I worked at. When I made my way to the storeroom at the back, I slipped my arms out of my thin black jacket, hung it up, and then headed out to the shop floor.

  “You’re late,” Leanne accused as she marched towards me. I didn’t argue with her, although I knew that was what she wanted. “Sort these out,” she said, dumping a pile of clothes in my hands. I quickly averted my eyes in fear, hoping she wouldn't be able to notice I’d been crying. “And when you’re finished with them there are a few boxes in the storeroom that need checking,” she added. I nodded, still unable to look at her. I knew my silence would likely annoy her. It was only one of the few pieces of satisfaction I was granted and would likely keep to myself—because I needed the damn job.

  When I glanced up, I caught her nostrils flaring before she turned on her heels and moved towards the counter. I blew out another breath.

  I had started working there two summers ago. It had just been a part-time job. A little weekend work to keep me occupied, and sometimes during the half term I’d earn a little extra money while gaining some experience in the fashion world. I hadn’t planned on it becoming a permanent placement, but life was funny like that. I couldn’t ever pass up the offer of extra hours, and before long, part-time had turned into full-time. I knew it wouldn’t always be that way, though. I hadn’t studied fashion design at Winslow Falls for three years to end up stuck in a tiny clothing store.

  Admittedly, I had been a little disheartened when I’d come to the realisation that the qualification I had worked so hard to get meant absolutely nothing in the end. No one ever tells you growing up just how hard the real world could be when you finally made it out there. When you enrol in college, you’re told that if you work hard and get your qualifications all your dreams and ambitions will fall right into your lap. Well, I was living proof that that wasn’t the case at all. That little piece of paper? That all so important qualification? It all means diddly squat.

  I gazed down at the pile of clothes in my hands. Just a little while longer, I told myself as I went about folding the garments as neatly as I could before placing them back onto the correct shelves.

  “How many times have I told you?” Leanne hissed. She was somehow behind me in an instant.

  Snaking out a hand, she tore away at the pile I’d already folded and dropped the clothes in a heap on the floor. “Really? You’ve been working here how long?” She pointed out, raising both brows. “And you can’t even fold a damn shirt properly.”

  Quickly lowering my head, I closed my eyes and mentally counted to three before opening them again. Don’t let her get to you. That’s what she wants.

  When I was finally able to meet her eyes, Leanne was glaring at me with such an intense hatred, I could almost feel it tearing through the small space between us. She was cold and fierce.

  You wouldn’t think it, but Leanne and I had been friends once. We’d started college around the same time, and with the same eye for fashion, we’d sort of gravitated towards each other. But that had changed when I’d started seeing Tony, knowing full well that Leanne was besotted with him. There really was no excuse for what I had done to her. What was harder for Leanne to understand was that I’d never even really fancied Tony. Like most guys I’d encountered throughout the years, Tony had been persistent and paid attention to me… enough to have me eventually betraying my friendship with Leanne. Needless to say, she’d hated me ever since.

  In a normal situation, the likelihood of me standing for her cattiness was slim to none, but at work, Leanne would always have the upper hand. Her mum was my boss, and because she was rarely ever at work, it left Leanne to manage the shop. To manage me. Sure, I could hand in my notice, rid myself of Leanne once and for all, but then what? No one else would hire me around this town. My options were limited.

  I threw on a smile and said, “I’ll fix them now.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll do it myself.” She huffed, her blonde hair blowing out at the sides as she did. “At least it’ll be done properly.”

  Yeah, you do that.

  The bell above the shop door chimed, signalling a new customer. I left Leanne to continue the task she had set for me, and I went to greet the balding gentleman that seemed entirely out of his comfort zone.

  “Hello there. My name is Melanie,” I forced out through a wide smile. “Is there anything in particular you are looking for today?”

  The gentleman—who appeared to be in his late fifties—looked back at me with a smile of his own. His pearly whites shone so brightly that I had to blink a few times and force myself not to stare too much. I never really understood how people could see that as attractive. The colour was unnatural and weird. The man’s beady eyes were boring into mine as the corners of his lips curled up into a smirk. “Well, as it happens, yes. I’m looking for an anniversary gift for my wife. A dress, maybe?”

  “Well, happy anniversary,” I sang. “I think I have the perfect dress to impress that wife of yours.” I winked.

  “Perfect. How about you show me the way, Melanie?” he drawled.

  Men. They’re all the same, I thought to myself.

  Summer was crazy here at Lillie’s. Customers came from all over the country just to catch a glimpse of the new collections. The day before the new pieces were revealed, there was always a certain buzz flying around the place. Mainly, though, that buzz came from me. My heart seemed to burst with excitement knowing that I, Melanie Livingston, would be surrounded by the bright, beautiful new pieces of material that I’d be helping to display. Geeky, I knew, but still…

  I smiled to myself, thinking of the new line that had arrived the day before, and I ushered the gentleman to the right of the store where the collection was displayed.

  “Jesus Christ, woman. You scared the living shit out of me,” Frankie gasped when she padded through the kitchen later that evening. She had a red towel clutched to her chest as she studied me curiously.

  “Don’t ask.” I lifted a hand as if it would stop her from finding out what was wrong, and knocked back my glass of wine as though it were water.

  “Bad day?” she quizzed, and went about pouring herself a glass.

  Every day was a bad day. Although I had managed to avoid any further altercations with Leanne for the rest of the afternoon, so I guess it wasn’t really that bad of a day after all.

  I held out my now empty glass. “Isn’t it always?”

  “Is Leanne giving you shit again?” Filling my glass to the brim, Frankie continued, “Because, ya know, you don’t have to put up with it.”

  I took a smaller sip of my wine and shook my head in response, just as she pulled a bag of gummy bears from the drawer and tossed them at me. It wasn’t like I could run to the boss and bitch about how unfair I was being treated. “It’s fine. I can handle it,” I said, tearing the bag open with my teeth.

  “Look, I’m not saying that what you did to her was okay or anything. I mean, girl code and all…”

  I raised a brow.

  “No, let me finish,” Frankie said, swatting my shoulder blade. “What I was going to say was that what you did to her was totally wrong, but that was a long time ago and this isn’t college anymore. She needs to grow the hell up and move on.”

  “People don’t forget, though, Frank.” I sighed, wishing that wasn’t the truth.

  “They will, Mel. It just takes time, that’s all.”

  I scoffed at that. People didn’t forget. Not in this town. Everyone knew everyone’s business and everyone stuck together. I was the bad smell everyone hated.

  “Y
ou’re not still planning on leaving, are you?” She frowned.

  “Yep. The sooner the better,” I told her truthfully, reaching into the bag and pulling a little bear out before biting down on it. Hard.

  “I was kinda hoping you’d changed your mind.”

  “Nope. Still going,” I replied, ignoring the look of disappointment she tossed my way.

  This small town was filled with people who had long memories. People who held grudges, refused to forget. That wasn’t going to change. As soon as I had enough money saved up, I would be leaving it all far, far behind me.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’ll always be this way,” Frankie said through a sigh. She was trying to be optimistic, but I knew better than anyone that no amount of optimism could change people’s views.

  “Maybe not. People grow old and then they die, sure, but I’m not going to spend the next sixty years of my life waiting for that day to arrive.”

  Frankie chuckled. “Dramatic much?”

  “Yeah? Well, you’re not the one getting prodded by hot pokers everywhere you turn,” I shot back, grabbing another bear from the bag and biting its head off. “I’m telling you now, it’s like a witch hunt out there,” I said between bites.