by Rhona Davis
Sheer happiness.
Just as I wash my hands, one of the cubicle doors creaks open. I thought I was all alone, so the sound makes me jump. Keeping my eyes pinned to the bathroom stall through the mirror, I quickly rinse the soap off my hands.
Seeing no one exit the stall, I mutter ‘freak’ under my breath, and go to dry my hands. The second I press the dryer button someone grabs me by my shoulder. “Hey!”
As soon as I spin on my heel the blood freezes in my veins. It’s Travis.
My eyes round on him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“The bathroom was empty.”
“Not that…here, in this club.”
He sneers. “Last time I checked it was a free country.”
“When did they let you out?”
“A week ago.”
“What?!”
“Who’s that guy you’re with?”
“None of your business.” I turn my back on him. Just as I walk away he pulls me back in by my wrist.
“Tell me!” he snaps.
Struggling free from his grip, I lock my gaze to his and smirk. “What are you going to do, hit me?”
The anger in his piercing green eyes fades. “I’d never hurt you. Have I ever hurt you before?”
“Not physically, but you have stalked me. And you're stalking me now. You know they’ll put you back inside if they find out you’ve approached me. You have a restraining order.”
“I don’t give a shit. I love you.”
“No you don’t. You love controlling me.”
“It’s not like that.”
I use my bodyweight to keep the bathroom door shut and then nod to the window which leads outside. “Just go while you can. It’s over between us. It’s been over for months. Don’t do this to yourself.”
“I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn't be with you.”
“You’d fix up your life, Travis. And maybe you’d treat the next girl better.”
“I don’t want anyone else.”
“You need help, Travis.”
His eyes darken again. “I’m not crazy!”
I swallow. “I never said that. Maybe you need to talk with someone, work out your issues?”
“Can’t we fix what we had?”
I frown. “What we had? What, with you tracking my every move? With you breaking into my house when I told you it was over? Wasn't the four month stretch in prison enough to tell you to give up the ghost?”
“I wasn't thinking clearly.” He goes to reach out for me but I pull away.
“I’m sorry, Travis. I never meant to hurt you, but it’s over. It’s been over for a long time.”
Suddenly, there’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. It’s not that same burning jealously which first drove me away. It’s a look of genuine malice.
I clear my throat, trying to get a handle on the fear which is making me tremble. “Look, I’d leave while you have the chance.”
“Why? Gonna let that meathead you're with beat me up if I don’t?” A grin of contempt pulls across his mouth. “I’ll kill him.”
“He’s twice your size, Travis. Don’t talk crazy like that.”
“They’d have to be ten times my size. I want you back and that’s all there is to it.”
“Please, Travis, get some help. Don’t screw up the rest of your life. I’m going to leave now…”
All of a sudden, my eyes widen on his left hand. Reaching into his jean pocket, he pulls out a knife.
“Don’t make me force you,” he says, shaking with anger and looking more crazed than I’ve ever seen him.
“You wouldn't hurt me.”
“What, like you hurt me?”
“Someone could come in here anytime.”
“Then we don’t have long.” He pushes past me and barricades the door. Turning towards me again, desperation and rage burns in his eyes. “I love you, Georgina. And I know you love me, too! You just need reminding of that…”
Johnny
I check my watch.
Something doesn't feel right. Georgie’s been gone for over ten minutes now.
I get the barman’s attention and ask him if he’ll put our drinks behind the bar. He agrees, leaving me free to go and find out what’s taking Georgie so long. I hate to be that guy, but despite recent developments I still have a job to do. I’ve been a bodyguard for years and I’ve never once had an incident where a client’s been in trouble.
When I reach the corridor that leads to the women’s bathroom, my eyes narrow. Crowed outside are a group of around six girls. They're banging on the door and cursing.
I march up to them. “What’s wrong?”
One on them frowns at me as she strikes the door. “Some freak has locked themselves inside.” She shouts through. “Open up or I’ll call security!”
I gently place a hand in front of her. “No need, let me take care of this.”
I knock on the door. “Georgie?”
Another girl scowls at me. “Tell your crazy girlfriend to open the door. I swear to god, if she’s doing drugs in there—”
“Please,” I cut in, “I’ll sort it out.” Now majorly worried for her safety, I bang the door. “Georgie? Open up, baby!”
When I press my ear against the door I hear a muffled cry…
My instincts kick in. I push the waiting girls back and kick the bathroom door open. My eyes laser in on Georgie. She’s being man-handled by some deranged guy.
“Stay back, motherfucker!” he screams.
My gaze snaps to a small blade—the point of which is pressed against the side of Georgie’s neck.
I hold my hands up. “Just calm down. What’s the problem here?”
He snarls. “She loves me, right!”
“If she loves you then why do you want to hurt her?” Feeling powerless in this position, I glance at Georgie. The terror in her face is too much to bear.
“I’m not hurting her,” the man spits back. “I’m taking her away with me.”
With my hands still raised, I jerk my chin to the knife. “I think you are hurting her.”
With the girls now spilling into the bathroom and gasping as they take pictures of the stand-off on their phones, I slowly inch forward.
“Get back!” he roars at me. “I’ll do it!”
With no certainty that talking him around will work, I make a move. Just as I reach into my pocket to pull out a weapon of my own, Georgie bites down hard on the creep’s arm and kicks him in the balls with her heel. As soon as she breaks free, I pull her away to safety and block the path of the man who’s now wincing in a heap on the floor.
A red-mist descends on me. Rushing up to him, I drag his sorry-ass up to his feet by his shirt and cock my hand back. Before I can knock him clean-out, though, Georgie stops me.
“No,” she cries. “He’s not worth it!”
I squint at her. “He tried to kill you.”
“No he didn't. He doesn't know what he’s doing. He’s desperate.”
“How do you know that? He could have really hurt you.”
“He’s my ex.”
I look down at the guy, who’s now curled up at the base of the sink. Crying, he rocks back and forth.
Georgie takes my chin in her palm and brings me gaze back to hers. “He needs help, Johnny. He’s lost.”
Just as I go to kiss her—confused by what just happened, but relieved she’s safe in my arms— two bouncers come rushing in.
“What’s going on here?” one of them shouts.
I nod to Georgie’s ex, who seems totally out of it. “Call the cops, guys.”
“What happened?” the bouncer says.
I nod to one of the girls. “They’ll let you know. I have to take my girlfriend home. It’s been a traumatic night.”
As we leave the club through the back door—both in stunned silence—I wonder how she found the strength she just showed. Not the awesome kick to the nut-sack, but the compassion she displayed. She didn't have to stop me hitting him. As far a
s I know that guy has caused her nothing but grief, and that’s the whole reason I’m here in the first place.
Waiting outside to hail a cab, we both watch the man being led out by the bouncers. A cop car pulls up not long after and takes him away.
Georgie looks up at me. “I think that’s the last I’ll see of him.”
“I think so, too.”
“I hope he gets the help he needs.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not a monster, Johnny. He’s never acted that way before. He’s troubled, and he’s more lost than I thought.”
On the short journey home, I ask her if she wants to sleep alone tonight.
“No way,” she tells me, leaning into me for comfort. “I want you to hold me.”
I run my hand through her beautiful soft hair. “Okay, angel.”
She looks into my eyes. “Thank you for not beating on him. That took great restraint.”
“That’s okay. To be honest, you're right. He didn't look well.”
“I love you.”
“What?”
A half-smile pulls at her lips, forcing its way through the tears and dramas of the night. “I said I—”
I cut her off. “I know what you said.” I hold her closer to me and smile. “I just wanted to hear it again.”
Chapter 8
Johnny
Lying together in bed, as the day slowly breaks, I fold my arms beneath my head and sigh. “I guess that’s it, then. Your uncle will surely see your face splashed across the papers now.”
Georgie snickers as she scrolls through her phone. “Social media, you mean.” Her eyes lock to mine and she smiles. “No one reads newspapers anymore.”
“No one but oldies like me.”
Her smile stretches. “I never said that.”
“You didn't have to.” I pull her in for a hug. “Anyway, I thought you said no one knew who you were…that your uncle never shone a spotlight on his personal family life.”
“I’m not the president’s daughter or anything, but I am known in small circles. And I am a dancer, remember?”
“So you must’ve known people in the club would have seen us together like that.”
“What, kissing?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugs. “I suppose so.”
I push up on my elbow. “Something tells me you wanted your uncle to find out.”
The smile on her pretty face fades and she shoots me a sour look. “Would that be such a crime? We have to tell him sometime.”
“I know.”
“You’re ashamed of me, aren't you?”
“No way! It’s just—”
“It’s just what? You told me this is your last job, so that can’t-mess-with-the-client-bullshit doesn't wash.”
She’s got me there.
I run a hand along her cheek. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“I know I am. Anyway, we have some stuff to resolve before my uncle comes back.”
“Like what? I’m sure he’s seen the pictures by now.”
“Not that. Your crummy lie about being married. Why did you stop going all the way with me when we first met? Or are you lying now? Were you married all along?”
“Nope. I never married. And that’s the gospel truth. I did come close, though…”
She shuffles closer to me and rests her head in her palm. “Go on.”
“I’ve had a lot of near misses with death. Whether as soldier on the battle field, or being a bodyguard for the rich and famous.”
“Or me with my crazy ex,” she smiles.
“Yeah. Anyhow, a few years ago I was in love…” I study her for a beat. “Or at least I thought I was. Anyway, she couldn't cope with my choice of career. The long weeks away, the cuts and bruises from some violent altercation. Every day I put myself through danger in order to protect others, and everyday I returned home it hurt her a little more each time. One day, after returning home from what was a simple job, she—”
“Left?” she finishes.
I nod. “She left me a note. She said she couldn't take it anymore. She said she loved me but didn't want to be with a man who could end up dying on a job.”
“And you wanted to save me that pain?”
“I wanted to protect you.”
“I wasn't a job of yours when we first met. I didn't ask to be protected.”
“I know that now.”
“And I’m not your ex. I could have handled it. I’ve spent my whole life being shielded from real life. It’s stifling. Even now, as a grown woman, I sometimes feel like a little girl living in a steel and glass jail.”
“Pretty nice jail.”
“Being rich ain’t everything. It’s all I know. Jesus, I know I must sound like a bitch saying that, but I’d give anything to be like my friends.”
“What, struggling to make a living?”
“At least they’re free to make their own mistakes.”
I gaze into her bright blue eyes and smile. There’s more depth to her than I knew.
She blows out. “Anyway, fuck all that.”
“Oh no you don’t. I’m not letting you off that easily. What’s your story?”
Her brows meet. “In what way? I didn't lie.”
“And I gave you my reasons for that.”
“All right, what do you want to know?”
“Why are you living with your uncle?”
She sighs. “Okay. I’ll condense it down, but don’t ask me to expand on it. The past is the past.”
“Fine.”
“I’ve been raised by my uncle since my parents died when I was three-years old. Plane crash.”
“Christ, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s life I guess.”
“That’s a really young age to lose your parents. Do you have memories of them?”
“The only memory I have of mom is that small snow-globe with the ballerina.” She nods to her dressing table. “That one, over there.”
“Shit. That’s heavy. You okay?”
“As good as I can be. You can’t really miss someone when they’ve been gone from your life almost as long as you’ve lived.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Please,” she interrupts. “I told you not to ask me to expand on it. All I can say is if it wasn't for that snow-globe I wouldn't be a dancer. Somehow dancing is like I’m making good on an unspoken promise to my mom.”
“To be a ballerina?”
I snort. “With my chunky ass? No, at least the closet thing I can be to it. Anyway, Mr. War Hero, what’s the deal with you? Why are you so shy talking about your past? What did you get your medal for?”
“I saved a buddy of mine out on the field.”
“That’s great.”
“Not really. He didn't survive. Three months after getting shot he passed away. I’ve seen enough horrors to last me a lifetime.”
“So you decided to put yourself in the line of fire by becoming a bodyguard after serving your country.”
“It’s the only way I knew how to make a living. Anyway, that’s over now.”
“Is it?”
I smile. “You bet. And when this job’s done I want you to come with me.”
Her eyes round. “What?”
“Live with me and make this old fool happy.”
She nods as a single tear falls from her eyes. Then, without another word exchanged, she pins me down and climbs on top of me.
For the rest of the morning we slowly make love. No horny or rampant desperation, just slow and loving sex —locking eyes and locking hearts. Totally and completely as one.
I’ve always craved the small town life—with my log fire, my books, and that DIY shop I dreamed of—but all that shit means nothing now. It all takes second place to what’s sitting above me. The woman of my dreams.
Love.
For the first time in my forty-seven years on this crazy blue planet, I’ve finally found what I’ve always wanted but never knew would come…
Georgina
As Johnny sleeps, thoughts of a beautiful happily ever after flood through my head. I’ve never known love before, not real love, and the feelings I have for Johnny are beyond words or expression.
I trace his bulging pecs with the tips of my fingers, watching him as he dreams. The bright sun of day is trying its best to burn through the blinds in my room, telling me that the hours are quickly passing by. Only a few more precious hours are left before I have to face the music with Uncle Ronald.
Every single event of the last year—whether sweet or bitter—has brought me to this moment. It makes me wonder how different life would have been if me and Johnny became an item on that fateful day we first met. I know one thing for sure, it would have saved so much heartache…
My thoughts briefly turn to Travis. As fucked-up as he was, and still is, I hope he’s getting the help he needs. He’s a danger but he’s also a broken man. I know that no girl deserves what I went through, but I do feel bad about how shit went down. Guess he fell too hard for me. But I couldn't help it. I had to break it off with Travis. And it was the right thing to do. I couldn't imagine myself with anyone long-term but the man now lying next to me on the bed.
Even though I wasn't sure if I’d ever see him again, I always thought about Johnny; about the sweetness of his lips, about how strongly we connected as we talked and drank wine under those beautiful stars.
Just as I consider waking him, wanting him to take me again before the grand showdown with my overprotective uncle, my phone pings. I roll over to my left and fetch it up from the nightstand. As soon as I read the message I break out into the biggest smile…
It’s a text from my agent, letting me know that I have a job dancing on a rapper’s new music video.
Oh my god! I gotta tell Johnny!
Just as I try to rouse him from sleep, I hear the front door slam shut.
Shit!
I shake Johnny. “Wake up!”
His big brown eyes slowly open on me and he smiles. “Mm… hey sexy.”
“Get up! Quick! My uncle’s back!”
As if I’ve just thrown a bucket of cold water over him, he springs up on the bed. “Fuck!”
“Yeah! Get dressed.”
He pauses.
“Come on!” I press.
“Don’t you think we should get this over with and just tell him?”