I didn’t want him to see me like this. We didn’t discuss other men—it was part of our agreement. I’d pretended there weren’t any because deep in my heart, only Jonathan existed. The evidence on my body told a different truth. Another man had touched me. The proof was plain to see.
I gingerly slid out of bed and rose slowly. The world spun around me. He steadied me.
“Bathroom?” I asked. “Just tell me where it is.”
“I’ll take you.” He hovered over me like a hen watching her eggs.
It was tough to convince him I could pee by myself, but he eventually conceded. I did my business and washed my hands. Fear burned through me as I lifted my head to the mirror. I wasn’t prepared for the girl who looked back. Her cheek was nearly black. Her eyes were hollow. Her skin was pale. That can’t be me. I traced the fist-sized bruise. The swelling must have reduced because it didn’t appear to be as big as it felt, but it was sore. The skin was intact, and for that I was grateful. There would be no physical scarring.
In spite of my parents’ awful parental skills, they’d rarely raised a hand to me. I’d been on the receiving end of a backhand or two, but in general, their beatings were verbal in nature. This was the first time I’d ever been punched by anyone.
The experience was not one I would recommend. I needed to get my head on straight, but trying to knock it off wasn’t the best-laid plan. I splashed some cool water on my face and exited the bathroom. Jonathan leaned against the wall, waiting for me.
“Can you walk, or should I carry you?” He leaned down to pick me up, but I stepped back. I was used to standing on my own two feet, and to let him carry the burden would be a mistake.
“I’m good. Thank you.”
His hand sat gently against the small of my back. I exited Luca’s apartment in a six-hundred-dollar dress, no shoes, and no underwear. Ironically, I was inadvertently following Jonathan’s rules of no panties, but this time I was positive he wouldn’t be pleased. They had been ripped from my body.
We climbed into the back of the car and headed toward home. At least that was where I thought I was headed. Imagine my surprise when we arrived at Jonathan’s Fifth Avenue flat.
“I want to go home. My home.”
A wounded look crossed his tired eyes. I hated that I’d hurt him. It wasn’t my intent, but I needed time to think, time to plan. All I knew was, my life wasn’t working out the way I’d intended, and things had to change.
Jade’s idea of “two years, and we would have it made” was bullshit. It wasn’t working out for either of us. She was losing herself in the same way I was. If we didn’t do something soon, neither of us would recognize what was left.
I remember on my second encounter with Jonathan, he said he hoped the job wouldn’t change me. I told him everything changed, the important thing to watch for was what remained the same. Could I salvage a piece of myself after that? I didn’t want to feel dirty, humiliated or tainted.
He knocked on the window and asked Howard to take me to my home. I was grateful he didn’t push. I wouldn’t have had the energy to fight him. It would be easy to fall into his arms and allow him to carry the burden, but the burden was not his to carry.
I didn’t want him to see me like this.
I leaned against his chest as the car moved toward my place. I loved his smell. He was sandalwood, and basil, and the scent would always exclusively belong to him.
When we arrived at my place, he insisted on coming up with me. I wanted to tell him no. I needed to tell him no, but I didn’t have the strength physically or mentally. My roommate was gone, thankfully. One look at my face, and she would have jumped to all sorts of conclusions.
I checked my phone for messages and found one from Sandra and one from Luca. Sandra told me the best way to move forward was to jump into the saddle again.
Was she kidding me?
She had canceled my appointments through the weekend, but I was expected to keep my appointment with Ben on Monday. The woman was impossible. Luca wanted to make sure I was okay. There was nothing from Jade.
Tucked into bed, Jonathan spooned behind me, lending me the strength and warmth his body could provide. I wanted to cry. I wanted to stay like this forever.
“I know we have an agreement, but it’s killing me to not know what happened. Who the hell did this to you, and why?” His voice cracked as he asked. He pulled my body against his chest and begged me to tell him.
I contemplated how to answer. He had come to my rescue on numerous occasions and had always managed to be there when I needed him. I owed him something. “I can’t tell you who. You know I can’t. I can only tell you he tried to take something that didn’t belong to him. He tried to rape me. It wasn’t consensual.” In a softer voice, I added, “He tried to take what was yours.”
I could hear him swallow hard several times. He was processing what I’d told him. I knew the minute the full impact hit him. He buried his head in my hair and cried. I was so glad he was behind me. I wasn’t sure I could have handled his anguish had I been face-to-face with him.
Jonathan stayed the rest of the night and held me in his arms. I felt safe. He was the protector. I would survive, though. I had to survive.
Maybe my parents had done me a favor by raising me with an ounce of love and a pound of hate. I was resilient, and in spite of my softness, I had an inner resolve that required me to stand up and dust myself off.
When I woke, Jonathan was gone. I had expected to find a note or something, but there was none. I found Tiffany in the kitchen making coffee, and it was actually funny to see her out of her element. I was the official coffeemaker in the house. She searched the cupboards for the filters and grounds and managed to get the machine to spit water. Sadly, we didn’t have a fancy coffee machine, just your standard model that poured water over inferior ground beans. In spite of its second-class status, the coffee smelled fabulous.
“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?” Her eyes bugged out while she stared at the contusion on my face.
“Bar brawl,” I said in a matter-of-fact manner.
I knew those two words would get me off the hook. As a cocktail waitress, Tiffany saw everything from fistfights to catfights on a regular basis. She shrugged her shoulders and left the room.
“You should ice that,” she called from her room.
I checked my calendar to make sure Sandra had canceled my meetings. My schedule was blocked out through Sunday.
Next on my list: my parents. They had called nearly every day since our lunch visit. I hadn’t listened to one of their messages. They didn’t have anything I wanted to hear. They raised a girl who lacked self-esteem, one who was willing to sell the smallest remaining part of her to get what she wanted—an advanced degree. Like somehow that degree would fill the gaping hole in her life.
I was supposed to live in God’s grace, but it was never given. I believed my father had the power to grant it and take it away, but the reality was, he needed it just as much, if not more than me. My parents had nothing I wanted to hear, but they were going to listen to what I had to say. Once I was finished talking, I knew they would be finished with me as well.
I tapped in the numbers and waited for them to pick up the phone.
No hello. Nothing. She just dove in. “River, do you know how many times I’ve called you, young lady?” Oh, my mother and her finesse. She knew how to make me feel all soft and pliable. Not.
“Yes, ten if you count the hang up. I didn’t call to listen to the endless list of transgressions I’ve saddled you and Dad with. I called to tell you that you were right. Everything you ever thought of me has come true. I have to wonder if I became what you predicted because of you or me, though, Mom. In the end, it doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know I lived up to your expectations for once in my life. I became a whore.”
Silence.
I loved that I could silence her. I’d been trying all my life to shut her up. If I’d known it would take the simple act of agr
eeing, I would have agreed with her fifteen years ago when she started calling me Jezebel. Sometimes life was that simple.
“River, are you okay?” Her concern surprised me. I couldn’t remember a time when she asked if I were okay. How dare she start asking now?
“Mom, I’m finally fine. I called to say goodbye. Jonathan told you to not contact me, and it didn’t work. I figured it was because it had come to you second-hand. So, from my mouth to God’s ear and straight to your own, never call me again. Never contact me. I would hate to see what my life would turn out to be if I continued to meet your expectations. I expect more from myself.”
I hung up and blocked my parents’ number.
It was liberating to take my life into my hands. Scary as shit, but I felt like I’d grown up, and all it took was a punch to the head and a man who thought I was sunshine. Everything was clear. I’d been flotsam and jetsam floating in everyone else’s current my entire life. I’d never rocked the boat. I went with the flow. Not anymore. From this point forward, I was the storm, and I would determine how the waves crashed and how the current would flow.
Chapter 23
Despite the two hours it took to cover the bruise on my face, a dark shadow was still prevalent. I packed up a duffle bag and headed out the door. Sandra wasn’t expecting me, but she would receive me. I would pound down her door until she acknowledged my presence. I still couldn’t get over the fact that she insinuated the blame was on me. The closer I got to the office, the angrier I became.
Merilee looked shocked when I entered the lobby. I didn’t wait for her to call Sandra. With a push, the panel on the wall opened up and I was in.
Poor Merilee, with her eyes large and glossy, looked like I’d brandished a weapon and held her hostage. She looked at Sandra the way I looked at my parents, as if she were waiting for the disappointment to show on her face. She expected it. She had failed in her job, and Sandra would never let that go unpunished.
It was hard to believe I had admired Sandra.
I looked at Merilee in sympathy. “She’ll get over it, Merilee. Go pull yourself up by your knickers. Tomorrow will be a new day, and you can do something else to make her unhappy. Today, it’s all about me.” I tossed my duffle aside and walked with purpose to Sandra’s desk.
“You could have called, River. Why all the drama? I would have been happy to see you.” She tilted her head and stared at my cheek. No matter how hard I tried, nothing short of spackle would have covered the bruise completely.
“Somehow, Sandra, I imagine that to be an untruth. You sat in this office and told me we could speak candidly. You sold me a bunch of crap, and I fell for it because I wanted to believe it could be true. You enchanted me with new clothes and spa treatments. You sold me on the job like you were hiring me to be your accountant.”
“I was never dishonest with you, River.” She looked nervous. She rearranged her desk constantly while I spoke and didn’t look me in the eye.
“No, you weren’t. You told me the way I felt about myself would be the hardest thing to accept, and you were right. I didn’t think it through. My parents had called me a whore my whole life, so I didn’t think it would be such a huge leap to become one. My head was already wrapped around the notion. However, I found out being called a whore and actually becoming one were two different things.”
“Whore, prostitute, escort…it’s semantics, River. It doesn’t matter what you call it, the end result is the same. Some would call a stay-at-home housewife the same. Doesn’t she profit from serving up her goodies on a regular basis? We all sell something.”
“Yes, we do. You sell young girls to men. You’re a Madame.”
“I am not a Madame.” Her tone was indignant and full of shock.
“Madame, pimp, procurer, facilitator, brothel keeper…it’s semantics, Sandra.” I tossed her words back at her.
“What’s your point? You had a bad night? Poor River.” Sarcasm dripped from her lips. “You’ll survive. Like I said, get back in the saddle and ride on.” She lined up the pens on her desk, once again, and she looked everywhere but in my direction. Coward.
“That’s my point. I’m not getting back in the saddle. I’m finished with this ride.” I could almost hear the snap of her neck as she raised her head to look at me.
“You can’t quit. You can’t afford to quit. I invested in you, and you made a commitment to stay a year.”
“What are you going to do, take me to court?” The thought made me laugh. “I could see it all play out. ‘Excuse me, Your Honor. I’m suing River Roberts because she reneged on our agreement to sell her body for tuition. I bought her clothes and had her pubes ripped out for free.’”
“Don’t be silly. I would never involve the law. That would put our clients at risk. But I wonder how your parents would feel about your career path.”
Naturally, she would go there, but I was prepared.
“Oh, you mean my zealot parents? I told them today before I came here. I prefer to keep things above board. They were really proud. Speechless, actually.”
That was a bitter pill for Sandra to swallow. Her face distorted the way mine did when I sucked on a lime. She thought she could blackmail me, but I’d taken away her options.
“Why would you want to go back to your little life when you could have so much more if you stayed on with me? You do realize today would be your last payday if you quit?”
“Yes, I’m fully aware I will no longer have an income. I was making it before I met you, and I’ll figure it out again.”
“Let me know when you get settled back into your old job. I really do love a good latte.”
The thing about women was, they were catty bitches. They would dig at you until you bled. When you scabbed over, they would scratch at you just to open the wound again. Sandra was a catty bitch, but her claws didn’t wound. I’d heard worse from my own flesh and blood.
“I’ll make sure to let you know.”
I wasn’t interested in a catfight. I just wanted to get it settled and get on with it. I was saddling up again, only this time I was riding a different kind of horse, and I was going in a different direction. I needed to slide back a step or two before I stepped forward.
Thump.
The phone banged as I tossed it across her desk. I had already pulled Ben, Jonathan’s, and Paul’s phone numbers from the contact list. I had to make things all right with them. I didn’t owe it to them, but I felt like I owed it to myself. Standing up, I turned to walk out. As I got to the door, I glanced at the duffle bag near my feet.
“The clothes you purchased are in the bag. I imagine my purple cheek is worth the rest of what I owe you.” Freedom was only a few feet away when she called to me.
“Oh, by the way, Jonathan Ferris called and said he had moved on. I was pretty sure the message was intended for you. He was always a bit of a connoisseur. It actually surprised me that he saw you more than once. That wasn’t his style.”
There was no comeback. Inside, I felt my chest crack. I struggled to find breath, but I wouldn’t let Sandra know she had wounded me. Turning, I walked out the door. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I curled up on the sidewalk and cried. Jonathan was done with me. What did I expect? I’d been his good-time girl, nothing more. I looked down at the charm around my wrist. Part of me wanted to yank it off and toss it aside, but the rest of me held on to the memory of being his sunshine…if only for a moment.
When I was with my parents, his words had been the much-needed salve for my beaten soul.
River is everything that’s wonderful in the world. She is brightness and light. She is compassion and hope. She is laughter. She’s my sunshine, and I will not let you dim her light in any way.
He wasn’t a man to play games, so I could presume he had meant those words when he’d spoken them. But I was tainted now. Ugly. No longer his sunshine. No longer his anything.
He’d moved on.
The minute the homeless person sat next to me and tried to c
onsole me, I knew it was time to get up and move on. I may have hit rock bottom, but I wasn’t going to spend my days panhandling and hiding in dark corners. I thanked the man for his concern and handed him the change I had in my purse.
Next stop: Jade. She still had not returned my calls. I realized the duo had all of her minutes, but that was bullshit. I needed her, and she owed me. She got us into this mess, and I was going to get us out of it. Her voice echoed in my ears.
Two years, and I’d be set.
In two years, I would have been a shell of myself. My lower lips would have hung like elephant ears to my knees.
What the hell had I been thinking?
I walked several blocks to her apartment. Come to think of it, she didn’t live that far from Jonathan. Did everyone live on Fifth Avenue? At the door, I buzzed her number. I buzzed, and buzzed, and buzzed until I heard her voice yell over the intercom.
“What the hell?”
“It’s me, let me up.” There was silence on her end. Was she debating letting me in? I swear, if that buzzer didn’t ring to grant me entry, I was going to ring every flat in the building until someone opened the door.
“I don’t want you to see me.” Her voice sounded small and defeated.
“Open the damn door, Jade.”
Rage blossomed inside me. I was in an ass-kicking mood, and if I found her in any condition short of perfection, I would be strapping a few men to the wall and beating them to within an inch of their lives. Jade was all I had left, and I’d be damned if someone was going to take her away from me.
The door buzzed open, and I flew through it. I didn’t bother with the elevator. I took the stairs. What did she mean, she didn’t want me to see her?
With my hand raised and ready to pound through her door, she opened it and pulled me in. She looked like crap. Her hair hadn’t been brushed, and her face was as white as a marshmallow.
“What the hell?” I pulled her to the sofa and went in search of water. She looked like she might collapse at any minute. The refrigerator was full of apple juice, her favorite, so I grabbed a bottle and handed it to her. She looked at it and set it down.
The Dean’s List Page 21