by Nikki Ash
Unknown: I can’t get the image of you dancing against me in that sexy as hell blue dress out of my head.
Playing coy, I respond with: Who’s this?
Unknown: Damn, woman, I’m wounded.
Unknown: It’s Tristan
Unknown:
The image of Tristan is dark and it looks like he’s lying in bed, a bunch of pillows behind his head. The image shows his entire face including his lopsided grin along with part of his chest. He’s wearing no shirt. He mentioned he owns a gym, one it’s obvious he takes advantage of…and I haven’t even seen a full body shot of him.
I save the image to my phone and make it my contact image for him.
Tristan: You there? Did I scare you away with my ugly mug?
I laugh at this. Surely, this man knows how hot he is.
Me: Yes! You look frightful. I thought it was a pic for Halloween.
Tristan: Ha…ha…send me one back.
I’ve never sent a picture to a man before. Until I was with Justin, I never even owned a cell phone, never having had the money, and once I did own one, Justin wasn’t the kind of guy to send playful pics. At least not with me.
Tristan: You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just wanted to say goodnight.
Before I lose my courage, I snap a picture of me lying in bed and hit send. I cringe at the picture when I see how plain I look but it’s too late. I wait a few minutes to see if Tristan will respond and when he doesn’t, I switch my volume setting to silent and set my phone down. Within minutes I’m asleep.
When I wake up, I see several texts on my phone from Tristan:
Sorry, Lexi woke up needing some water.
You look beautiful like that. Even more beautiful than you did tonight.
You must have fallen asleep… I hope you have sweet dreams, Charlie.
It’s Monday morning and my day off, and I’ve decided to enjoy my day at the coffee shop. I stopped off at the book store and picked up a new romance novel but I am currently regretting it. It’s the second book in a trilogy and I’m ninety percent in, and it’s clear the author will be leaving us with a cliffhanger. I put my book down to prolong getting to the end, and take a sip of my caramel mocha latte. Just as I’m about to pick my book back up—accepting the fact that I’m going to be waiting until the next book comes out to find out what happens with the heroine—the door chimes and in walks Tristan minus his cute mini-sidekick. I take advantage of the fact he hasn’t noticed me sitting here yet…you know, to ogle him. He’s wearing a white hat, that against his tanned skin makes him look even sexier—there’s just something about a man in a hat. A plain white T-shirt which is stretched oh-so-perfectly against his fit body, and a pair of jeans that mold his ass just right. With his laptop bag over his shoulder, he orders at the counter then heads to the booth. As he’s passing my table he stops, looks my way then does a double take, his gorgeous lips upturning into a small, playful smile that has my belly in knots.
After I woke up Saturday morning to his messages, I got nervous and didn’t end up texting him back. But I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve pulled the shirtless image up of him on my phone.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I say, trying to sound cool as a cucumber while my palms are sweating like I just ate a handful of jalapeño peppers, as I recall the picture of Tristan lying in bed with no shirt on.
Tristan pulls out the chair in front of me but stops before sitting, silently asking if it’s okay.
“Please…you can be my distraction.”
“And what am I supposed to be distracting you from?”
I’m about to answer when his name is called. “Hold that thought.” He gets up and grabs his coffee and sandwich from the counter then sits back down.
“Okay, so back to your distraction.” He grins and butterflies attack my belly.
“Cliffhanger.” I hold the book up as proof before taking a sip of my coffee.
“And what kind of cliffhanger are we talking here?” Tristan takes the book from my hands, and turning to a random page starts reading.
“Grabbing me by my legs, he pulls me down the bed, and spreading my legs wide open, he dives right into my pussy like I’m a feast he’s devouring on Thanksgiving. His tongue hits my clit and I—”
I choke on my coffee realizing he’s reading a freaking sex scene! “Oh! Okay! That’s enough! Thanks!” I grab the book from Tristan.
“And where does this cliffhanger come in? Unsure if she’s going to…finish?” His eyes dance with amusement.
“No. She finishes,” I answer too quickly without thinking. When I realize what I just said, I let out a groan that has him laughing in delight at my embarrassment. I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to look him in the eyes again.
“That’s like the shit my mom and her friends read. My dad calls it mom-porn.” The term grips at my heart.
“It’s called romance,” I correct him, trying and failing to keep the raw emotion out of my voice. “So, what are you doing here?” I ask, changing the subject.
He sits back against his chair assessing me. I can tell he wants to ask why the topic of romance books would cause me to get choked up, but he chooses to go with the flow. “Well, as I told you the other night, I own a gym…” I can’t help but check him out some more at the mention of the gym. The image of him the other night was nothing more than a tease. It just left me parched, only giving me a mere droplet of water, when what I really need is a tall glass of this man to quench my thirst. What the heck am I saying?
Tristan gives me a knowing smirk and when I look away, my eyes fall downward, settling on his shirt…on his short sleeve shirt…and hello! Can you say arm-porn? Those romance novels have nothing on this man. He clears his throat and I force myself to look at his face. His eyes are laughing at me and his smile is so big there’s a tiny dimple sticking out of his left cheek. It confirms my suspicions about whether he has one like Lexi.
“…and I’m here to meet with a web designer to have the website redone.”
“And where’s your sidekick today?”
His mouth forms into the cutest pout. “Preschool. She started last week.”
“Wow! That’s a big step. How are you handling it?”
He sighs and averts his eyes, staring outside for a moment. “Lexi’s mom left when she was born.” Whoa! Whiplash. I remain silent, letting him explain.
“Ever since Lexi was born, it’s just been me and her…and Mason.” He rolls his eyes when he says Mason’s name but it’s obvious he cares about him like family. “I know every kid has to go to school but I already miss her like crazy. For the last five years, she’s been by my side. For the sake of not sounding like a pussy, I won’t tell you how I cried for like twenty minutes after I dropped her off.”
I let out a quick laugh, dabbing my eyes from the raw emotion seeping through his words. “That doesn’t make you a pussy…it makes you a damn good dad. I’m sure she’s having a blast.”
He nods and takes another sip of his coffee. “Yeah, so far so good. She’s only going two days a week right now. We’ll work on adding more days if she can handle it.”
“You mean if you can handle it?”
“Ha! Very funny.”
His phone dings, and when he checks it, his easy-going smile quickly transforms into a look of annoyance.
“So, the other night at the club you said you majored in art and digital design? Like websites?”
“Yeah. My dream is to spend my days being creative with actual paint but I knew I would need a degree and skills to make a living, so I got certified in digital design as well. Painting won’t pay the bills.” I cringe at my last sentence, remembering how many times Justin had thrown my degree in my face.
“Well, it just so happens I’m in need of a web designer. Any chance you’re looking for a side job?” Tristan grins, wagging his eyebrows.
“Seriously?” I get giddy at the idea of doing something creative.
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“Look.” He presses a few buttons on his phone and turns it around. It’s a conversation between him and Web designer #3.
“Number three?” I question while reading the texts. The last message is timestamped two minutes ago and the designer apologized for cancelling again.
“Yeah, three people have now cancelled on me. My web designer quit to go on maternity leave. She was about to revamp my page. Number two forgot to pay the renewal fee and I lost my domain and page. I got the domain back but the page was wiped out. Number three—well, as you just read, cancelled on me. So, what do you say?”
He takes a bite of his sandwich, and my eyes zero in on the strength of his jaw as he chews. Then as he swallows, my eyes move down to his sexy throat.
“Charlie?”
Holy shit! What is wrong with me? I can’t stop staring at this man. “Yeah,” I choke out then clear my throat. “Yeah, I can do that for you.”
Tristan’s face brightens. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, I can design a website in my sleep.”
“Thank you!”
“No problem.”
We spend the next hour going over the details. I argue that I don’t want to get paid but he insists. He wants an entirely new, fresh look with up-to-date images. I let him know I can come by during the day and take pictures of the people working out, of the new rooms, et cetera. I remember I no longer have my camera but he assures me he has one that will work. Apparently, his mom bought him an expensive camera after Lexi was born but he has no idea how to use it, so he sticks to his cell phone. After going through his calendar, we solidify a day and time.
“Well, I should probably get going. I have an appointment in a little while.” And it’s not a lie—I have my therapy appointment in less than an hour.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a couple days.”
“Definitely.” I wave and make it a point to walk out the door before he does, all while chanting to myself, “Don’t look back.”
Twelve
Charlie
It’s a beautiful day in LA, so I enjoy the stroll down Larchmont Boulevard as I head to Tristan’s gym. Fall is in full swing, the leaves are falling, and kids are already running around in their costumes even though Halloween isn’t for a few more days. I see a mom and her daughters walking out of a cute children’s boutique, the little girls dressed like pink princesses. A flashback hits me in full force, forcing me to sit down on the bench to catch my breath.
Halloween (last year)…
“Mom! Can we go please?”
“Let me just set your dad’s dinner in the microwave and then we’ll go.”
After putting foil over the plate of food, I grab my purse and keys. It’s the weekend and it’s doubtful Justin will be home but I left food for him just in case. The last thing I need is for him to come home and not have dinner waiting for him. I remind myself we have less than three weeks until we run. I just need to get through these next couple weeks and once we leave, we’ll never be found, and we will finally be free of the abuse, free to live as we want.
I find Georgia dressed and standing in the foyer, ready to go trick-or-treating. “You are the most beautiful princess, ever!” I gush.
She gives me the most adorable toothy grin. “I’m not a princess yet! Belle isn’t a princess until after she meets the beast!” Only my daughter would insist on being Belle pre-princess. She said everyone always wants to be the princess at the end. She wants to be the real Belle. We couldn’t find a pre-princess costume so I ended up finding her a cute blue dress and purchasing a white apron. I hemmed the apron to fit her, and got her adorable black flats. With a big blue ribbon in place, her hair is tied back in a low ponytail.
I tap her on her nose. “That’s where you’re wrong. Belle was always a princess, even before she found the beast. Every girl is a princess.”
“Are mommies princesses, too?”
“Umm…” I think for a moment. The short answer should be yes but we’re in the twenty-first century. Is it wrong to teach her we’re all princesses? Would that be degrading to women? My answer is no, it wouldn’t be. Even a working woman can be a princess. It’s simply a mindset, not a career.
“Yes, every woman is a princess.”
“Does that mean daddy is a prince?” She frowns. “I think he’s mean like Gaston.” She scrunches up her nose and my heart breaks. This is why in a couple weeks I’m going to get my baby girl out of here. She’s getting too old and too smart, and I’ll be damned if she’s going to grow up believing all dads are Gastons when she should be thinking of her father as a prince. Not wanting to put her father down and risk her saying anything to him, I change the subject.
“Oh no! It’s already six o’clock! We better get going.”
Thankfully, she lets it go, grabbing her candy bag, and we head out for some trick-or-treating. For the next two hours, we walk up and down the street. Georgia knocks on each door saying, “Trick-or-treat,” and after getting candy, she says, “Thank you.” Once she’s exhausted, we drive back home. I put her to bed and place the candy in the fridge for tomorrow.
Justin walks through the door the next morning while I’m making breakfast and I’m shocked to see him. The first thing he does when he reaches into the fridge to get a bottle of water is throw the candy into the garbage. “Wouldn’t want her to end up a fat cow like you,” is all he says before he walks into his office, closing the door behind him.
Thirteen
Tristan
I’ve spent the last few hours picking up the gym to make sure it’s picture perfect before Charlie gets here. I’ve let the guys know if they see her taking photos to keep doing what they’re doing. The janitor service I use was here last night but I still wanted to double check everything.
“Hey Scott! Want to ref for us?”
I check the clock and it shows it’s ten ‘til eleven. Charlie should be here soon but I have enough time to referee a few rounds with Mason and Isaac. They’re in different but close weight classes and both of them are fighting in the upcoming UFC fight in a few months. Fighting in the gym is similar to an actual fight but gloves and head gear are used. It’s mostly practicing the moves and skills along with the follow through but without shedding blood.
“Sure.” I step into the octagon and they meet me in the middle. After bumping fists, I move out of the way and they start circling each other. Mason throws a punch and Isaac blocks it, then he wraps his arms around Mason effectively taking him to the ground. Of course this pisses Mason off because Isaac is new and Mason is one cocky son of a bitch. He’s out of the hold in seconds and throws another punch to Isaac’s jaw, connecting way too hard. I’m about to call it when Isaac comes at Mason and decks him straight in the face. Mason stumbles back a couple of steps before he springs forward with a round house kick to Isaac’s temple, knocking him on his ass.
What the fuck?
Just as I’m about to break them up because this has obviously turned personal, I hear a blood curdling scream. My eyes dart up from the guys now rolling on the ground beating the shit out of each other, to Charlie. Her hands are over her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers, and she looks about ten shades paler than usual. Her gaze goes from Mason and Isaac still fighting to me before she turns around and runs, swinging the door open and not looking back.
What the hell?
“Hey!” I shout. The guys ignore me, so I jump in the middle, throwing Mason off Isaac. They fall onto their asses, panting. “What the hell!” I don’t wait for either of them to answer before I jump down, out of the octagon, to run after Charlie. “Brent!” I yell as I’m running out the door. “Make sure the two children stay away from each other.”
I get outside and look to my left and then my right. I spot her sitting on a bench, her head hanging down. Her hands are covering her face and I can see even from a distance her breathing is labored. Sprinting over to her, I sit down next to her on the bench.
“Hey.” My voice is soft. She doesn’t say anythin
g at first, her head remaining down. Her breathing is loud and her sobs are even louder. I’m about to put my arm around her but think better of it, pieces of the puzzle coming together.
Charlie getting upset when she knocked the picture down.
Flinching when I approached her.
Thinking I might hit her.
Screaming at the sight of Mason and Isaac fighting.
I would bet in some way, Charlie has suffered some type of physical or emotional abuse. By the way she shrank back the night in my house when she thought I was going to strike her, and how upset she got over seeing the guys fighting, I’m leaning toward physical.
Her sobs turn to hiccups and it sounds like she’s having trouble breathing. Getting down on my knees, I kneel in front of her, gently framing her face between my hands.
“Charlie, look at me.” She looks up with red rimmed eyes as a new wave of tears race down her already stained cheeks soaking her shirt, and I release her face. “Talk to me, please.”
Her bottom lip quivers and her shoulders sag in defeat. She shakes her head slowly as her gaze darts to the sky, her shaky fingers wiping her cheeks every few seconds. Sucking in a loud sniffle, she attempts to collect herself.
“I didn’t know it was a fighting gym.” She nervously glances down at her hands, and using my thumb and forefinger, I gently tilt her chin back up so she’s forced to look at me.
“And that shocked you?” I ask, not making my assumptions known.
“I thought it was a gym where people work out.”
“I’m sorry…I didn’t even think to mention what kind of gym it is. Charlie, you need to tell me what’s going on.”
Letting out a long sigh, she says, “I can’t go back in there.” Her breathing picks up.
“Whoa, breathe. Don’t work yourself up, please.” Still on my knees, I take her delicate hands in mine. “Why can’t you go in there?” I need her to say the words. Until she does, we can’t move forward.