by Amara Kent
“She has confidence, she just lacks it in one of the most important ways. Her coworkers adore her, and she has this way about her that is strong and adaptive to challenges. We need to harness that into her social life, and her crush,” I state.
“Exactly. It’s going to be hard. She wants to be able to complete her goals, but her lack of confidence with the opposite sex and socializing is stronger,” Taylor comments.
“We can’t rush her. I can see her reverting to her old self soon after we leave if we do.”
“Well, it’s a good thing that we’re not like every other show of its kind. This isn’t over in a matter of a day or a few days. We take the time and cut everything together into a two-part episode.”
“Settle down there, Tay Tay. This isn’t some behind the scenes video. You don’t need to go into the process. I know what we do,” I tease.
Taylor has a tendency to… I’m sure there’s got to be a female version of mansplaining. I think she got used to having to go into so much detail with her sister and nephew, that now she’s fallen into this explanation black hole. If you had only just met her, she would come across as condescending. To those who know her… well, it can still come off as condescending at times, but we’re used to it, and it’s wildly hilarious seeing her do it to Dean. That man does not like to be mansplained to.
Taylor rolls her eyes at me, slapping her hand lightly against my sternum. “Shut up.”
“We’re going to be here for a while. How do you think Dean will cope?” I ask.
“He won’t survive. He’s a wreck without me.” She takes a sip of her coffee, watching the staff members carry out the filming equipment to the vans.
I chuckle. “Because you wear the pants in the relationship,” I comment.
“Of course. In and out of the bedroom.” She winks at me.
I throw my head back and laugh. “So you’re a queen on the streets and a freak in the sheets. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Of course.” We both let out a giggle.
The production manager approaches us. A nervous smile on her face. She is the most adorable woman I’ve ever come across. To everybody else, she’s assertive and commanding. With us, she turns into a little puppy. “Hello, Mrs. Lukas, Miss. Bradford,” she says with a thick accent, bowing. “I need help inside.”
Taylor looks down at the numerous bags at our feet, and I roll my eyes. “You go. I’ll take them to the car.”
“This is why we’re such best friends,” she declares with a smile.
“Because you think you can boss me around?” I ask.
“I just did, didn’t I?”
“Oh, honey. You may wear the pants in yours and Dean’s relationship, but we both know who’s the boss between us.” I smirk, waving her off and collecting a couple of the bags.
Parking is horrendous in this part of the city, which is why I’m thankful to have a free city pass. We’re allowed to park in the no parking areas because we’re filming. Not sure how the producers managed to do it, but they did. I walk the few meters to the car that’s parked in a little side ally street, placing the two bags down and pressing the button on the fob. They gave us a fancy Toyota to use as a company car, with the probably the best state-of-the-art navigation system in the world. Thanks to Rettori. As much as I hate Ren’s guts right now, I can’t deny that he knows how to make products that actually work; instead of sending you through a maze of buildings, only to end up at the opposite end of where you wanted to be. He worked with NASA to get the system running and is fitted with every language in the world. He’s not only innovative, he’s smart as fuck. He knows how to put himself above the competition, which is why he’s in the position he’s in. Okay, so I did some research. Sue me.
I head to the rear of the car and swipe my foot below the center of the trunk, holding the bags. It lifts smoothly and I wonder how I ever lived without it in my life. It makes my car back at home seem like a pile of shit in comparison. Placing the bags in the trunk, I push the lid down firmly and turn around, slamming into a firm chest. Shaking my head, I look up into the bourbon eyes of a man I never thought I would ever see again. The eyes of a man I was sure I would never see in Japan, of all places.
Garrett…
My ex, and the reason for my fucked-up relationship with love. I instinctively step back and gasp. Satisfaction and pure lust whirl around in his eyes and I have to hold onto the car to stop myself from falling.
When Taylor had suggested we move to New York, I hadn’t even hesitated. It was all I could do to get away from him. I didn’t trust myself, and I was fearful of him. Staying in the same town would only have me returning… again. No matter how much I had told myself that I would leave, I never did. Not permanently, anyway. He would just come crawling back crying with yet another excuse for his behavior. Always a string of excuses as to why he had laid a hand on me. Always why I couldn’t leave him. I hate thinking it, but it was absolutely kismet that Taylor had suffered what she had because it meant that she too was in a position to leave the little rural town we called home, and park ourselves in one of the busiest cities in the world, where our identities were unknown. And even if anonymity wasn’t an invisible cloak we were fortunate enough to wear; in a busy place like New York City, you were sure to be able to go about your daily life, mixing in well amongst the hodgepodge of other people.
In the many years since I left him, I hadn’t heard a peep from him. At the time I thought it was too good to be true. Surely, someone so insistent on getting me back for two years wouldn’t just abandon me at the drop of a hat, right? As time went by, I became complacent. I see now that that was the biggest mistake I could have ever made.
I go to slide around the car to get away from him. I look past him in the hopes that were I to call out, someone would be able to hear me and come to my rescue. Garrett turns his head and follows my gaze.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. His tone is not fully entirely one of concern. And that’s the thing about him. Even though he asks and says the right thing. Even though he may trick everyone around us into thinking that he’s genuine and kind, I know him too well to know there is never any honest intention in his words. Laying sinisterly underneath the surface is someone who is drowning in the feeling of control. He loves to see the happy looks of those around us that gush at how we are. How deep our love flows. I wanted to tell them the truth. I was desperate to scream out that I needed help, but it would never work. He was far too good at the game he created, for me to feel confident they would never be pulled into the painful game of life, with me.
His hand finds a place on my cheek and he coos at me, wrapping his arms around me and stroking my hair. Too fearful, I allow him to do what he wants because I know he can hurt me before I even have the chance to scream out for help in this position.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. “Have you missed me?” he asks. I nod weakly and he squeezes me hard, crushing my chest. I let out a whimper as I fight to trap the scream and tears forcing themselves out of me.
He squeezes again. A wordless request to answer his question. “Yes,” I respond with as much conviction as I can throw into the words that sound so foreign and taste so sour.
“You should never have abandoned me. Abandoned us,” he says.
“I’m sorry.”
He strokes my head, planting a light kiss on my forehead. “It’s okay, baby, all is forgiven. We’ve found each other now.” Bile rushes up in my throat, and I swallow it back. The acid burning my insides on the way down.
“What are you doing here, Garrett?” I ask.
He releases me, pushing me to the side with his hip as he leans against the trunk of the car. “Well, I’ve been trying to track you down. You haven’t been answering any of my messages.” A darkness washes over his face. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”
I force myself to look into the eyes of the man I once thought I loved with my whole being. I was stupid to think we were ever equal. Of co
urse, he made me feel as if we were. He even went so far as to make it seem as if all the love was one-sided at one point. I tried harder, made myself better until it seemed as if he finally accepted me, and loved me with as much soul as I did. It was a trap I never saw coming because I was too blinded by how much I loved him. How much I was willing to stick by his side no matter what. He bet on that to have me submit to him every time.
“I’m sorry.”
“I was angry when you wouldn’t message me back. I was even angrier when you wouldn’t answer my calls.” He sighs. “But it’s okay now. I realized you probably had no idea who was calling you, and so I forgave you.”
Wait. What? Messages? Phone calls? It hits me. This entire time I had been thinking that it was Ren that had been stalking me like a psycho, when in fact it was Garrett. What was he even doing here? How did he find me?
“You know. I never stopped loving you. I would watch you and believe that we would meet again. That it was destiny that I saw your shining face light up the screen next to that bitch.” He ends with a twisted expression on his face.
He never liked Taylor. Probably because we were always together. Our friendship was so strong, it was hard to pull us apart. He didn’t want anybody else to take me away from him; however, he would never act upon his hatred for her. He had absolutely no reason to. She—like everyone else—was fully invested in our relationship, which was so perfect on the outside, and toxic on the inside.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I reach in and grab it.
Taylor:
Hey, I’m sorry to leave all the packing. I won’t be too much longer.
Garrett grabs my phone and looks at her message. With a scowl, he pegs it across the way and it slams into the wall. Pieces of it flying in all directions.
I avert my gaze, not wanting to see the beast that’s taken over. It had always been a problem with him. He grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger, guiding my face to look up at him. His eyes show a bit of pain, and were I the old me, I would have fallen for it. I would have done anything I could to make him feel better because I was the one that brought it to the surface. I was the one that made him feel like that.
“I’m sorry, baby, I promise I’ll get you a new phone. I just don’t like that woman, you know that. I have nothing to worry about this time though. I’m going to take you away from her. We’ll settle down in a cottage house by the river and take the boat out on the water. I’ll fish and you’ll read books. We’ll make love every night and I’ll hunt our dinners. It’ll be just like how we planned it all those years ago.”
He wipes away the remaining space between us. His breath leaving a disgusting feeling on my skin. His lips draw nearer to mine, and I try to escape, my back hitting the concrete wall. Pressure builds quickly, suffocating me, and I pull my lips in between my teeth, not wanting to feel him like that again. His soft lips land on me and he grunts his annoyance at my act to not have him mark me in such an intimate way.
“Come on, baby. Let me kiss you,” he urges. I shake my head, while his expression morphs into a scowl. He moves his hand to grab my cheeks. His grip is painful, and he doesn’t let up when my brows cinch from the pain. “Why won’t you kiss me?” he demands.
“I should be getting back. There are more things to put in the car,” I respond.
“Kiss me now, then, and I’ll help you get the bags,” he offers.
“Taylor will see you. You don’t want her to see you, do you?” I ask, hoping that it would get me off having to entertain his need for intimacy.
His frown returns and he shakes his head. A sting blooms on my cheek and the side of my head smacks against the wall of the building. Soft hands bring my face to the front and his lips land on my forehead in a soft kiss, peppering them down my face until they land on my lips. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to react that way. You know how mad she makes me,” he apologizes in between kisses.
“It’s okay,” I whimper.
The heat grows stronger in intensity on my face and a pounding emanates from where it found the wall.
He continues to kiss me as I stand there, pinned, silently begging, and praying that Taylor will come to the car. His kisses soon turn domineering and he bites my bottom lip, drawing blood as he presses his erection into me.
“Kiss me back,” he growls.
I don’t want to. I want to find the courage to fight him and knee him in the balls and run to safety. I want to be a brave person. The kind of brave I read about. I’d give anything to be the kind of person I can be proud to be, instead of the weak woman kissing her ex back just so he doesn’t hurt her any more than he already has.
“Open your mouth,” he orders.
I comply, crying internally at the person I’ve become. He’s always had that power over me. No matter what heroic film plays on in my head of me destroying him and becoming the victor, I’m always submitting to him. Because the amount of strength it takes to fight and defend myself is a strength I don’t possess. I act strong and like I own myself and the world, but deep down I’m just a woman trying to get by every day in a world that scares her.
His tongue swipes along my own, and I gag reflexively at the feel of him. “Kiss me like you mean it, baby.” His words are dipped heavily in a meaning that is not to be contended with. I try hard to give him what he wants. My tongue moves along with his in a petrifying dance created in a state of duress. His hand lands on my neck; nails digging into the soft spot. Every move is calculated. No one action is played out without meaning. The play of dominance as he reminds me he can end me. That I can’t stop him now like I couldn’t back then. Sure, I ran. But running isn’t standing up for yourself. It’s traveling through a thick fog of uncertainty in the hopes that you’ll come out the other end safe and sound. That whoever or whatever you left behind will never be able to reach you. But fog dissipates over time and soon enough the path to you is clear, with the footsteps of your journey painted on the ground. I ran, stupidly thinking he’d never catch me again. There was always a part of me that worried over if he’d ever find me again, but I put in the dollars to get the best security money could buy. Of course, the lack of contact from him had me complacent. And complacency is when he struck. I would never expect to find him here, of all places. Why would I, or anyone for that matter? That would put me into the category of paranoid, and I was in enough fucked-up categories to add that one to the mix.
With a firm grip, he lifts my head and slams it back against the wall. Shooting pain splinters wildly along my head and a scream is yanked out of my mouth. “What is wrong? Why won’t you kiss me like you mean it?” he growls out. “Kiss me like you used to,” he orders.
“Please,” I beg pathetically.
The hardness in his face softens to an almost believable level, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, baby. So, so, sorry.” He returns to kiss my face as I look out at the now bustling street, finding myself begging for someone to look in our direction and see me. See the fear I’m covered in, but nobody does. Everybody keeps on walking. A sea of suits passing by.
“I know how to make you feel better.” He pulls away from me. Unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. I think about how fast I can run. I contemplate using the moment to find my freedom when he pulls his jeans down. I psych myself up to do the one thing I never thought I could do, out of fear, but now is something I have to do to not fall victim once more.
You can do this, Kerri.
Taking a deep breath in and out, I wait for his attention to fall on taking his jeans off and I make a run for it. My shoes ring loudly, bouncing against the walls. I’m just about halfway up the little street when I’m thrown back and slammed against the wall. Nails dig into my neck, breaking through the skin this time. Blood drips slowly down, but that’s nothing compared to the way his hand travels to my pants and dips underneath my panties. His finger roughly caressing the most intimate part of me. He’s trying to get me to a point of arousal, and I can’t help the way my bo
dy seems to betray me by giving him what he wants.
“See, baby. I knew you still wanted me. Why would you run off like that?” he asks.
Because I don’t want you! I want to scream at him. I struggle against him when I feel my pants being pulled down. The cool breeze brushing against my skin. With quivering lips and my eyes closed, I do the one thing that used to work all those years ago.
My happy place.
The leaves of the cherry blossom falling softly around me as I stand along the river’s edge. A beautiful sea of various shades of pink, attached to the natural hues of brown and green, litter the bank. The wind flows through, creating a whispered song of comfort and assurance. It’s like I’m right there, and I catch a whiff of the fragrant blossoms as they catch the wind in a dance.
The peace doesn’t come, though. My one form of salvation amidst the terror no longer helps me as I struggle to force it to take me. Take me away and live a moment of fantasy. Just enough to get me through while he uses me. I allow myself to fall back into the real world when it doesn’t work. The sounds of the Tokyo street buzzing all around me. I dare not open my eyes. I don’t need to see the rich gratification of power evident in his cognac orbs.
Soft hands cup my cheeks, and I flinch. “It’s okay, it’s just me.”
My eyes fly open to see the last person I expected to see at this moment. I frantically search for Garrett.
“He’s gone,” Ren assures with conviction.
Garrett is the only person that has ever seen me so vulnerable. Not because I allowed him to, but because he stripped me so raw, there was nothing left. I forget what Ren did to me. Forget that I’m angry at him. Every issue we have ceases to exist in this one moment and I crumple, falling into him. I shake viciously as the weight of the fear and the pressure in my chest are lifted and everything becomes cold.