Why had she stayed with him for all these years? They weren’t even married, for crying out loud. She’d met him when she was barely eighteen, and so damn naïve. He was such an icon to her back then. She was a waitress in the neighborhood diner and he was the local weight-lifting celebrity who would come in and leave her big tips. He’d been so sweet to her back in those days, it wasn’t long before she fell for him. He seemed like the kind of guy who would protect and take care of her, and at the time, that was the most important thing to her.
After they dated and she moved in with him, things rapidly deteriorated. He grew jealous and possessive. His obsession with bodybuilding became his addiction and when his steroid usage increased, so did his crazed behavior. But here she was, four years later, still getting the shit beaten out of her.
Countless lies, cover-ups, trips to the emergency room, and to her doctor and she still stuck with him. Sometimes she actually felt sorry for him because he’d been abused as a child. But not anymore. This was the last time she would endure his brutality. It was time to put her plan into motion. She needed to get a move on if she was going to get out of here alive.
Recalling that Jasper had a set of handcuffs just for her, she rummaged through his things. When she found them, using every bit of her strength, she dragged his hulky body to the support pole in their dumpy apartment’s living room. Finally, she’d be able to put that ugly eyesore to good use. Taking one of his wrists, she clamped the cuff on as tight as it would go, and clamped the other link to the pole. She had no idea where the keys were and she couldn’t care less.
As she made her way back to the shower, she found she couldn’t stop shaking. Turning on the water as hot as she could stand, she let the spray rinse away the mess of what her life had turned into. The tub floor swirled with red, her blood flowing from all the areas he’d used the knife to slice into her. She would be a vision in butterfly bandages later.
Scrubbing her body hard and getting rid of his putrid stench was her first priority. When her skin was raw, for she never truly felt cleansed, she dried herself off. He’d really fucked her up this time, but she dared not let herself dwell on it. Leaning close to the mirror to examine her lip, she was chagrined to see one of her front teeth had chipped. Another thing to worry about later.
Damn, she looked like she’d just gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. The bruises were already popping out. She hoped her eye wouldn’t swell shut—that would make it a bit more difficult to drive.
Her plans were etched in her mind, and had been now for weeks. She went to her room and pulled the largest suitcase she owned from the closet’s top shelf, filling it with her few clothes and other belongings. The next step would require large garbage bags.
In the kitchen she tiptoed around the broken glass. On her way back to the bedroom, she double-checked to make sure Jasper was still out cold. Satisfied that he was, she continued to pack. It only took her about thirty minutes to have all her things stuffed in bags and loaded in the car. Knowing the pain would be gripping her fairly soon, she wanted to get the heavy stuff done fast.
She stuffed all of Jasper’s clothes in bags and put them in her car too. They would end up in a dumpster somewhere on the other side of town. The rat bastard didn’t deserve anything less.
Now for a little extra handiwork. Picking up the knife he’d used to cut her with, along with a pair of scissors, she cut his clothes off in strips. Then she tore them into even tinier pieces. The only thing she left intact was his tighty whities. He loved those stupid underwear. He thought he looked so fucking hot in them, when in reality he was nothing but a loser, prancing around the apartment.
Grabbing the scissors, she cut a huge hole in the crotch, so even if he tried to wear them, all his junk would be hanging out, not to mention his ass.
She inspected the house, just to make sure she didn’t forget anything. She wanted him to wake up and have to call for help and then not have a damn thing to wear.
“Towels and sheets!” she thought. She decided she needed to grab those too. After emptying out the linens, there wasn’t anything left, except maybe a cotton ball, that he could use.
Riviera didn’t bother to take a last look at the hellhole she’d been living in for the last four years. She was making a break, grabbing onto this dream that, for whatever reason, she’d never acted upon. Why does any abused woman stay in a relationship? Lack of confidence, lack of self-esteem, lack of self-love, fear?
It certainly wasn’t because she loved him. At one point she tried to suggest he stop using the steroids, but that only resulted in another beating. She even suggested counseling, thinking it might help him overcome his childhood of being abused himself. But again, it had terrible consequences for her. It was then she admitted their relationship was hopeless. She hadn’t loved Jasper for years. Fear kept her tied to him. He threatened her every day, but somewhere, something bigger than fear began to grow within her. Fear was soon replaced by the desire to live. She had no doubt that at some point, if she stayed with him, she would become a statistic.
As she got in her car, her body shaking with the enormity of what she was about to do, she realized this was her big chance at freedom … her chance to live.
Chapter Three
A New Start
Leaving Chicago was easy breezy. Jasper made sure she never had any friends so there were no ties to cut. She scooted on the expressway and headed due west. Riviera had a purpose, a plan. She’d always been a talented artist but never had the funds to go to art school. Instead, she channeled that talent into painting murals for people she met through her work at the diner.
Luck happened to be on her side when one day, a customer came in and they struck up a conversation. The customer was a painter … not an artist, but someone who did faux finishes for wealthy clients. She took Riviera under her wing and taught her everything she knew.
Riviera was a sponge. Not only did she learn but she also excelled and created her own craft and style, which spread by word of mouth. She kept that part of her life hidden from Jasper, though, because she knew that was her ticket out. Luckily for Riviera, Jasper was so enmeshed in himself and his bodybuilding; she was able to sneak away when she knew he would be at the gym. A few times she’d almost gotten caught, so she was especially careful when she went to a job to paint. She created a false persona and saved money, so that when the time came, she could make her escape. That time had come.
A high school dropout, Riviera had no formal education. She ran away from home at sixteen and lived on the streets for two years, in and out of shelters, pretending to be other people. She’d managed to exist on a meager amount of food and money. She’d done it all through street smarts and hard knocks.
Although living on the streets made her wary of people, it made her understand the true meaning of kindness and generosity. She learned to appreciate small acts of charity and never forgot those who helped her.
Most people would’ve ended up on drugs or sucked into prostitution. Not Riviera. She worked hard and always had a smile for others, but her undoing was the bigger-than-life man named Jasper who she’d grossly mistaken for her savior.
*****
Beaver Creek, Colorado, was a lovely resort town snuggled in the midst of the Rocky Mountains. The whole time she’d been in Chicago, she dreamed about the Rockies. It was the middle of summer when she ran away from home, and she’d jumped on the first bus she could find out of Portland. It happened to be one headed to Chicago. On the way from Oregon, the bus traveled across I-80 and that’s when Riviera decided she would come back to the Rockies one day. She couldn’t stop thinking of how those jagged peaks rose from the earth, trying to touch the sky with granite fingers; and how the green hillsides were emblazoned with rainbows of wildflowers. Riviera imagined herself running up those hills and lying in the grass surrounded by all that magic.
Beaver Creek would be the perfect place with its high-end homes where she could potentially earn a decent living. More import
antly, Jasper would never think to look for her there. Even though it was the dead of winter, she happily pulled into town, filled with great joy that her old Toyota Camry had achieved such a momentous task, and checked into a local motel.
The first thing she did was pull out her antiquated laptop and hopped online. She ran an Internet search on all the local interior designers and wrote down their names, numbers, and office locations. Some worked out of their homes, but they all had websites. The next day she would be on a job hunt.
Exhaustion seeped into every inch of her, but the agonizing aches and pains stemming from the beating overrode that minor detail. The mirror confirmed her worst suspicions. Her eye looked like double hell. No damn wonder the motel’s front-desk clerk looked at her with such pity. Crap, she thought, as she looked at the outline of the finger marks on her neck. She looked like a victim in a horror film.
The laceration that ran from her neck to her breast was covered with eight butterfly bandages. The other lacerations, one on her arm and two on her leg, weren’t as deep but they needed butterflies too.
Opening her mouth wide, she felt around her jaw with her fingers and examined the tenderness. He’d really nailed her this time. She traced the jagged margin of the chip in her tooth. The inside corner of her left front tooth was gone, leaving a sharp edge. Tears dribbled down her cheeks, because the only thing she’d ever prided herself on was her nice, straight teeth. She’d never considered herself very pretty, but her teeth gave her a good smile. Now she had that big stupid chip and no dental insurance or extra funds to get it fixed. She would have to save up for that. At least it wasn’t painful and into the nerve.
Makeup was what she needed … the heavy kind that could camouflage dark bruises and cuts. It could’ve been worse. At least she hadn’t suffered any broken bones or internal injuries.
Riviera climbed into bed and turned out the light. Even though it was only seven in the evening, she was so weary, her eyes were closed before her head hit the pillow.
*****
The annoying beep of the alarm woke her. She’d set it so she could get an early start on her job hunt, since she was worried about her funds running out. When she raised her arm to stretch, she winced as the pain hit her. Gingerly, she rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Her face still looked like a plum, all swollen and purple. Maybe she’d get a mercy job from this.
Her shower was brief because even the slight pressure from the water hurt. Body lotion was so not going to happen today, she decided. The simple idea of rubbing her skin made her grimace.
Why was it after these beatings that every single inch of her body hurt? Even the parts he hadn’t touched? The sudden image of his huge body grunting on top of hers flashed in her mind and sent her flying back into the bathroom with a severe case of dry heaves. Now her abs hurt even more than before.
There was no way she’d be able to wear jeans over her bruised body, so she pulled on a pair of stretchy yoga pants. That was another thing—her weight constantly fluctuated since she’d been with Jasper. Her stomach was either in a state of perpetual knots or she wanted to eat everything in sight. Talk about yo-yo dieting.
She supposed yoga pants weren’t very professional, but she billed herself as an artist and artists were odd like that. They wore what they wanted and didn’t conform to anyone’s rules. So that’s the way it was going to be today.
After looking in the mirror for the hundredth time, Riviera finally admitted there was no way any amount of makeup would cover her eggplant of a face. It was entirely too purple and swollen. Someone must’ve stuck a tire pump in the side of her head and forgot to turn it off during the night. Her portfolio would hopefully speak for itself. The scarf she tied around her neck hid the hand-shaped bruises that had popped out during the night.
Grabbing her portfolio, purse, and keys, she was out the door and headed for the closest Mickey D’s for a major dose of coffee and an order of pancakes. Then she would head to Marsha Sue Flannery’s Décor.
Though Riviera had lived a terrible life thus far, she still believed that there was good in most people (except for Jasper). Marsha Sue was no exception. Upon their first meeting, Riviera sensed a deep insecurity, but Marsha Sue hid it behind a wall of flamboyant success. She was the most sought-after designer in Eagle County and she let Riviera know it within the first minute of their meeting.
“So, Riviera Benson. That’s an interesting name. You do understand I have an important reputation to maintain.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Marsha Sue eyed Riviera. “What happened to your face?” she asked bluntly.
Riviera squirmed beneath her scrutiny. “Um, I’d prefer not to talk about it.”
“I don’t really care about your preferences, Riviera. If I’m going to hire you, I need to know everything about you.”
Riviera dropped her head and said, “I fell.”
Marsha Sue sneered, “And I’m the Queen of England. Listen, I won’t hire someone I can’t trust. If you work for me, you’ll have master keys to million-dollar homes. I can’t afford to hire someone who’s not honest with me.”
“I understand,” Riviera said sheepishly. “I was in an unhealthy relationship.”
“Is that what you call it? Looks to me like you were someone’s punching bag,” Marsha Sue said brusquely. “So, I’ll need references, names of former employers, former addresses, that sort of thing. Can you give me that?”
“Yes.” Riviera handed her a sheet of paper with the information on it. Understanding most employers would require this, she was prepared, but she prayed Marsha Sue would never call anyone to verify this information. She was worried that Jasper might find her and then she’d be on the run again.
Marsha Sue was secretly shocked at the quality of Riviera’s work, but acted as though it were simply average. She hired her on a provisional basis and threatened that if she were displeased by the tiniest of things, Riviera would never find work in the area again.
That threat didn’t hinder Riviera in the least. Having worked for some of the toughest clients in Chicago, she knew her work was solid and could provide Marsha Sue exactly what she needed. Besides, a photo couldn’t come close to what her work looked like in person.
The two women shook hands and Riviera found herself hired that same day.
*****
Sitting at the tiny desk in her motel room, Riviera scanned Craigslist, looking for a rental. Her eye was on a few places, so she called about one that seemed to be a good match.
“Whatssup?” a female voice answered.
“Um, yeah. I’m calling about your ad for a roommate?” Riviera asked.
“Oh jeez. Sorry. Yes. Well, I’m the one you need, then. I’m looking for a roomie. Do you do drugs?” she asked abruptly.
The question hit Riviera out of the blue. She thought it a bit comical. “Um, no. I used to hit up the smack pretty good, and sometimes meth. But I’m clean now,” Riviera joked. Her good luck at finding a job so quickly had put her in good spirits.
Unfortunately, her little comment was greeted with dead silence.
“Oh, hey,” Riviera jumped in, “I was only kidding. I don’t do drugs. I’ve never even smoked weed. Seriously. Maybe I’ll drink an occasional beer or something, but rarely. Not that I’m against it or anything. Long story.” She realized she was babbling, so she shut up.
She heard a long breath on the other end. “Well, we need to meet first. I need to gauge whether I can trust you, and just so you know, I’m a great judge of character.”
“Yeah, sure. You know, I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have made a joke about that. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. So, when can you meet?” the girl asked.
“I can do it now, if you’d like.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Riviera answered, smiling. “I start a new job tomorrow so I really need to find something fast.”
“What’s your name?”
“Riviera Benson.”
“Cool. I’m Amie McConnell.”
“Nice to meet you, Amie.”
“So, come on down, Riviera Benson.”
Amie provided directions to the two-bedroom condo in Edwards, about ten minutes from Riviera’s motel. She’d bought the place two years ago when it was being built, but she needed a roommate to help with her bills. Riviera only needed a place to lay her head at night, so she thought this would work out great.
The two women checked each other out. Amie was a petite brunette with a keen wit, but her size didn’t fool Riviera one bit. She recognized strength and confidence in Amie by her tone of voice and the way she held herself. Amie didn’t waste any time in wanting to know what happened to Riviera’s face.
“I accidentally kissed the sidewalk. By the way, I wouldn’t suggest it. Sidewalks aren’t good kissers,” Riviera joked. Amie squinted her eyes and nodded, as if she understood. Riviera wondered if she did.
Amie lived with a demon of her own once, but it involved an ex and drugs. Maybe one day, they would share horror stories.
“So, what do you do?” Amie asked. When Riviera told her about her new employer, Amie’s face turned ashen.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Listen, girl. I know we just met, but watch your back with that one. She’s evil. I’m talking plain mean. And she will stab you in the back the first chance she gets.”
Riviera nodded. “Thanks for the warning. Is she any good?”
“Oh yeah. Everybody around here knows of Marsha Sue. She makes sure of it. She’s the one everyone wants in town. But her reputation as an employer isn’t good. She can’t keep any workers for very long. What I hear is that she’s very bitter about some old break up with a former fiancé jilting her or something. And then her father apparently squandered their family fortune. So now she has to work like the rest of us.”
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