by Janice Ross
"You gonna let him go, Rhys?" I prepared a leg off to the side, just in case I needed to haul my short ass away from this place. Somehow, I would need to reach my girl, and somehow I would need to carry her because she was beyond busted up. "We're good," I tried to convince myself more than him.
His fingers flexed enough to let me know he might've been considering moving, so I eased closer. The butterflies in my stomach had stopped fluttering a while back, though I couldn't help but wonder if I had just gotten numb over this disaster of a day. I slowly reached for him with the tips of my fingers. I chose to be silent for the time being. My attention drifted from his gorgeous side profile, up the length of his arms to the fingers still holding onto the man who'd now become a victim. I couldn't see his entire head; no more than an area of sweaty chestnut hair clinging to his head and remnants of the wall trickling onto his shoulders.
Inhaling widely a final time, I placed my fingers on his arm. "Rhys, please let him go. We'll call the cops to deal with him."
As I stood next to this guy I'd met just moments earlier, my insides flipped. Not from fear; instead, an eager curiosity which I was not able to deny.
He tilted to gaze down at me. A handful of hair swished down to tap at his forehead. An unspoken calmness passed between us. I could've sworn I saw a teardrop form at the outline to his eyes.
"Let him go," I reiterated.
This time, he did. Rhys released a mouthful of air from between his lips. After turning to face me, our eyes connected. A mountain of sadness dwelled within him. I saw beyond what was right in front of me, beyond the surface to his soul. This guy was broken and battered. His hurt had been compiled by so much it consumed him almost to the point of no return.
"Is your friend okay?" Rhys asked, then pressed the pad of his thumb to my forehead. My eyes drifted shut, but I forced myself to remember who I was.
"She's fine," I replied, breaking the connection his gaze had on me. I stepped back, away.
One step...two steps...three steps.
Only now remembering the bloodiness from his fists, I checked to make sure he hadn't gotten any on me. Luckily, it was the holding hand, not the punching one. All this time, my main focus didn't shift from him. I only needed to put some distance. So I did, right up until the edge of my heel bucked up against Chantele's leg.
"Can we go?" she whispered.
I tilted my head away from Rhys to survey my friend, then nodded as I stated, "Yeah, let's get out of here."
VII.
Rhys
~
A sharp, electric pain sizzled my fingers once I flexed them. I don't know what came over me. I've never been the in-the-face type of prick. Rich asshole, maybe. Fighting douchebags, not so much. I widened my fingers to assess the damage. I considered how ironic this whole day had been from when the plane first landed. I’d been in such a hurry to get back to this city, and now look at me. It was like a completely different person had returned, or a fresh set of circumstances had been made to challenge me.
"I'm sorry, Chanel. Really, I am." I meant every word. Her eyes had this odd type of twinkle, but her short limbs were set to sprout at any minute. "Did I scare you?"
"Born and raised in New York, not much scares me." Her voice was even toned, so at least there was some level of comfort in my presence. She even flashed this incredible, all-consuming smile my way. "We need to call for an ambulance."
"Actually, the ambulance is already here."
"Why?" She gave me a side-eyed glare. Every time I caught a glimpse of her stare, a chill crept up my spine. Shit, I had tons of other things to consider besides some stranger with issues. Little by little, however, she was looping me in. "Why Rhys?"
"Um, there's an issue upstairs at my parents’ place."
"Is everything okay? Oh my gosh, you're down here with me, but you've got issues of your own. I'm so sorry."
She busied herself, shifting from one leg to the other. Golden sandals gripped her feet and her bronze toes were a slutty type of red.
"Let me carry her. We'll have the medics take care of her."
"What about him?" she adjusted her body closer to mine as we moved past the guy. He was still knocked out cold and now slumped onto the ground like a pile of trash, precisely what he was.
"Hold your friend for a second." I shifted the girl into her arms by leaning her body to Chanel's side so I could clean my hands and make a quick check of his pulse. I couldn't believe how tiny she was, but strong as ever because she took to the task. I then removed my victim from close to the wall into the center of the hallway, wide enough for anyone to see.
The medics were on the way down, so we had to wait for another elevator. I further asked them to give us a few minutes, in order to get Chanel's friend in there as well.
"Who's this?" Rupert started on me when we finally got to the back of the lobby. His eyes raked over Chantele first before settling on Chanel. He squinted as his lips curved into a funky frown.
"They had some trouble upstairs. She needs to get to the hospital–"
"I don't give a damn about anyone else. My wife–"
That was all it took for me to get riled up. Drops of sweat formed along my forehead. I'd held back my frustrations long enough. No way in hell was I going to stand there and let him behave like he cared about anything outside of himself. Just to think, he'd actually showed my mother some sort of love when we'd first found her. There was nothing good, nothing compassionate about this man standing in front of me.
"I'll meet you at this hospital," I threw back at him, then blocked out the questions that followed. His focus kept resorting to Chanel and her bloody friend, not me. Curious stares followed along, although we had been on the way to the long back, black marble corridor.
"If I put you to stand," I started questioning Chantele, "can you walk?"
She nodded in agreement. So many bruises had begun settling in, up and down her arms, even along her neck. I don't remember seeing her from out in the street when I'd first noticed Chanel, but beneath the marks, shabby hair, ripped up clothes and drawn blood was a scared girl with obvious looks.
"I'll help you on one side, Chanel will get the other. Lean on us." It might've made sense to keep carrying her. The issue was, however, the unnecessary attention. She would feel uncomfortable, I'm sure.
"Let me pull your hair down into your face," Chanel added.
I was almost sure she understood my reasoning.
"We don't need anyone to see you." As short as she was, perhaps just over five feet, this girl had to be one of the strongest I'd ever met. My eyes found hers as we walked through the front lobby, and she smiled as her pupils redirected to the front desk.
"Should I call a ride, Mr. Colburn?" I cringed to hear the name, my name. The middle-aged man spoke in long, drawn out syllables. His words were low enough to go no further than us, considering we were only about two inches from the glistening marble booth.
"We're all right. However, please call the police." I went on to give him the details for the attacker turned victim. Since my phone had been smashed to pieces, I had him direct all questions to Rupert's line. That move would be enough to garnish more threats. The muscles along the sides of my lips started twitching. By the time we reached the thick glass front of the building, my reflection bordered wicked. Yeah, I knew it was wrong to start trouble with my meal ticket. I just got tired of him believing our lives would never change.
People make plans all the time. I had once been a planner. Now look where my planning had landed me. Out of every curve ball I'd been dealt on this day I would never forget, meeting the girl on the opposite side of a victim was perhaps the only good to manifest.
We flagged a ride, one of the elaborate vehicles that lingered outside of the building hoping to align with some rich dweeb. Grateful for the darkness, I remained fixated of Chanel's struggle to protect her friend. As much as I felt an interest in her, hell, now was not the time to develop anything new. Our meeting had to account for
something. Perhaps this was the universe's way of letting me know good women still existed.
VIII.
Chanel
~
I held onto Chantele's limp body, even with the dried-up blood. She returned my hug with more of a grip once we were in the back of the car. Rhys' stare kept finding mine. Before we reached the first traffic light, I must've shifted nearly half a dozen times. Launching my teeth down into the meat of my bottom lips, I had to fight back a smile. In all honestly, I didn't like being fed on. This guy's eyes were devouring me. Other than the sense of knowing, every time a car light or street light would pass over the ride, I'd get proof. Every other time, I knew it.
But what if it was me?
There was no way I could be interested in a complete stranger, not when I had a longstanding relationship with the love of my life. Seriously, why was my love life now in question?
Chantele should've been the focal point. Not me or Rhys, and definitely not Zach, who didn't have a clue of my day. In the silence of the car, I decided to find an out. As much as Chantele didn't want me to, I dialed her parents to give them a heads up. "Your mom wants to talk to you," I pleaded, knowing well that she wouldn't consider it at this point.
Precisely the case. She nudged her head before pressing into me more.
"Um Mrs. Braun, Chantele's resting. I'll see you guys when you reach the hospital."
"That girl is out to ruin us." She wept out loud in a dramatic sort of way with puffing and an annoying screech. If I didn't know any better, I would've believed she was actually broken to pieces. But because I knew the real deal, it didn't move me. Instead, I pulled my cell from my ear and ended the call.
Rhys squinted at my fingers. Our eyes passed over each other. I looked up, down, to the back of the seat, outside of the window at passing cars and darn near everywhere to keep from staring back into that prying gaze of his.
"Her mom's a drama queen?" he finally asked.
"Uh huh." I took that as an opportunity to check on my friend who had dozed off.
Any focus outside of us had to redirect his fixation. I thought about his mother who'd just been wheeled out and his father who had treated us with a long stick, like we had some foreign disease. "You want to use my phone to check on your mother?" I stretched the short distance to where he was seated, on the opposite side of Chantele.
"No, she'll be fine." His reply was curt. I didn't press.
The traffic provided the necessary distraction even though inside the vehicle was so quiet Chantele's breathing trailed all around us. At one point, I even thought I'd heard someone else's heartbeat. Sadly, it was mine.
"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?" I faced him, shifting enough to accommodate Chantele though I'd drawn my leg up into the back seat. Only then did I realize that the night had provided us with an almost sensual glow. The flashes of light from other vehicles gave him this type of angelic glow, a halo of sorts. Something pounded in my chest. Maybe it was my heart, I don't know. Or perhaps it was stress and exhaustion from this awful day. Either way, I couldn't bring myself to turn away from him because I wanted to know, and I wanted to be of some form of comfort.
Truly, I did.
"Life got to her." His voice cracked. I didn't know if I should've reached over to place my hand on the side of his face like I wanted to at the moment. It seemed like my emotions were working overtime because a flush of heat swept over me from head to toe. My insides turned and twisted and vibrated in such a way, I thought I would explode.
What the hell is going on, Chanel? Not even Zach got this kind of reaction.
As faith would have it, we arrived to the emergency room right then with Rhys' eyes locked on mine.
No Chanel, he's just like any other guy on the street.
I needed to believe he didn't matter. As far as I was concerned, he should not have mattered to me. There was only one guy to matter, and he was the best damn guy in the world. So cut this shit, Chanel.
"I'll carry your friend," Rhys broke into my thoughts, catching me off guard. We bumped heads. While we fought to make this awkward stance less so, it didn't help. His palms trailed down my arms. I could've fainted right then, right there and felt absolutely no remorse over my childlike behavior. I had to get away so I let go somewhat prematurely, but he caught Chantele.
After making sure she got checked in, I sat in the corner of the large waiting room out of sight, and hopefully out of mind. About every five minutes, I reached into my purse to search for my phone. Once my eyes settled on the hard, pink case, I willed myself to take it out and call Zach. I felt wrong, like I didn't deserve such a good guy. So, I slipped it back inside.
I found it hard to believe anyone could be swept away by a strong emotion such as love one minute, and then be intrigued to the point of no return. It scared the crap out of me because Rhys was nothing to me.
Clarification: nothing more than a stranger I'd never see again.
IX.
Rhys
~
The entrance to my mom's bed in the emergency department was barred off by Rupert and a young doctor with a nameplate labeling him as Garrett. His hair was cropped low, while the large fitting white gown swallowed him up. I nudged closer forward to try to get a glance of Lisle as the men spoke in low voices.
"Rhys, I see you shifted your priorities to what should truly matter." This guy always tried to outdo himself. Even in the midst of a family crisis, he had to interject some nonsense like this.
"I want to see my mother," I fed him. The tallest out of the three of us, I flexed to maneuver past the curtains.
The doctor cleared his throat before stepping to the side. He wore a distant expression on porcelain white skin, proving he might've been the perfect type to do Rupert's bidding.
"She's resting. I think it's a good idea for you to go home. I'll have her call when she's up." Rupert placed the palms of his hands to my chest. He quickly snatched his fingers away as we both realized I still had spots of blood on my tee shirt. "And clean that up."
The two of them edged closer to the bed. Steady beeps from the monitor let me know Lisle at least had a pulse. Pausing longer, in hopes of catching her on the verge of waking up, I decided to leave.
"Thank you for doing the right thing," he expressed. To me it felt like we'd just wrapped up a business deal. I considered telling him as much, but instead yanked my elbow from his grip. Our eyes lingered for under ten seconds.
I eventually wandered down the long corridor leading back out to the waiting area, which was packed with tons of people. Passing by a gift shop, I purchased an NYU tee which I swapped out with my own before leaving out. No one really looked my way. They all went about their lives either mourning or showing each other love. With the exception of the off and on announcements from over the intercom, nothing else penetrated my psyche. If only I could go back in time by a couple of months, or even a few years. Maybe jumping ahead to a time when this shitty day might no longer impact me.
Chanel had just finished talking to a couple who I assumed were her friend's parents. They left through a separate door leading to the back. I watched my newest friend hug herself. After leaning her head all the way back, she moved it in a big circle. I wasn't yet prepared to confront her, but instead felt content in observing her alone time. In a way, I wanted her to turn around and see me, then come to me.
When Chanel didn't answer to my silent call, I took the steps to reach her. By then, her head was pressed to a wall. She pulled out a cell from her purse and ran her fingers over the screen. I waited, anticipating something that would give insight to who she was. Admittedly, my mind had me screwed. Still, everything about this girl intrigued me.
Chanel's skin had a warm honey tint. Made me want to race my fingers over every inch. Silky, rich chestnut hair with a loose curl pattern had many deep urges racing from in my gut. Honestly, I'd never gotten close to any female outside of my race, which I'm assuming she had to be. Or at least partially. The circ
le I'd grown up in didn't dictate against mixed race relationships. Hell, there was no written or verbal law to the matter. I never subconsciously got or made the opportunity.
"It's me. I know you've had a busy day, so call me back whenever you get a chance. Love you." The final words of her message stunned my ears.
A dry spell claimed my throat. Just as I raised a fist to cover my mouth and walk away, Chanel suddenly realized I was near. Her pupils grew wide to give a flash into the depths of her soul. We latched on to the moment, whatever it was supposed to be. My body was no longer mine. The motions weren't controlled by me because although I should've still been in a funk about having my heart broken and nearly losing Lisle, the girl standing in front of me made the pain melt away. She made me neglect the rejection and shame of being cheated on. She even helped me bear things just that much more. So, I wanted to reciprocate.
"Are you okay?" I whispered. My lips drew nearer, only inches away from her forehead by this point.
Her voice croaked a, "Yeah."
After slipping the phone back into the purse hanging at her side, she returned the arms across her torso.
"How bad is your friend?"
"Thank God that loser didn't rape her. She tried to do as much as she could to keep him from violating her that way, but he countered by beating the shit outta her."
"I'm sorry."
"No need for you to be sorry. Rhys, you helped me save her." Chanel's golden eyes sparkled at me. "She needs so much help, beyond just this. Her problem is more mental than anything else."
"I don't understand." I wasn't one to pry though I could tell she needed to talk. If it meant keeping her next to me, I would be there until the words ran out. Who was I kidding? I wasn't going anywhere soon.
"She's a beautiful girl on the outside, but I'm not sure of what's going on inside of her. She's tormented and unsettled. At every chance, she's seeking out love in all the wrong places."