by K. L. Donn
“What’s your interest?” I have to know if Zach is into this girl.
“Nothing like that, man. She’s a good kid. Made some dumb mistakes, but she’s not like my other wards.”
“What’d she do?”
“Typical rich white girl thinks the world owes her. Except she seems down to earth. She’s confusing the fuck out of me, man.”
“But what did she do?” Still not getting an answer on her crime.
“Oh, yeah. She bullied a girl. Her soon to be sister-in-law ironically enough. Assaulted her. The brother was the one who pushed for charges to be filed. Wanted her to know how serious her actions were.” He seems confused about the brother. Normally, I would be too, but I’d seen some shady shit in my day.
“So what is it you want from me?” I’m still baffled on that part.
“Meet her, friend her, I don’t fucking care, just get into her life. Find out what the fuck is so off about her.” He sounds a little more invested in this girl than he is admitting. “I’ve sent you her bio with everything you’ll need to know about her. Picture, too. She’s a looker.” Of fucking course, he did. Crazy bastard.
“You think I’ll just do this?” I need to put him in his place before I agree.
“Oh, just wait,” he tells me, and I frown.
The dinging of my computer lets me know I have a new email. Opening it up, I am stunned at the beauty before me. Dirty-blonde hair frames her heart-shaped face, and the perfect cupid’s bow lips are thinned into a straight line of annoyance. Her cute button nose is scrunched up as if she’s smelling something funny, and if Zach took this picture, I could understand it. However, her beautiful hazel eyes are what divulges her story. Sadness lingers within, darkened by fear and shame. The heavy bags underneath tell of her sleepless nights. I feel for her.
A lot of people wouldn’t give it a second thought given that she bullied and hurt someone else. But as far as I am concerned, there’s a reason behind everything that happens. It often doesn’t make sense to anyone but that person, but in their mind, that’s good enough.
“Was this picture taken before or after you got a hold of her?” I ask Zach.
“Before prison,” he says, and her look increases my interest ten-fold. If she looked like this before she went to hell, I could only imagine how she appears now.
“You have a recent picture?” I need to know. I don’t know why, but I feel a connection to this girl. It’s her eyes, they hold so much more emotion than I am willing to bet anyone has paid attention to.
“At the end of the file. It contains everything her brother thought might be relevant to her situation. I fucking hate meddling family members,” Zach grumbles while I scroll, reading her academic achievements almost from the beginning of school.
“The girl’s damn near a fucking genius,” I mumble, amazed. Smart people are usually shy, introverted. By all indications, though, she has been queen bee in her life. Head cheerleader from middle school on. Her incarceration is confusing as fuck.
“You see why I’m curious now? Her records don’t match her record, yanno?” I understand what he’s saying.
“What about her parents?” I ask distractedly, going through her college transcripts. She was top of her class for the time she was there. I have to wonder how many other people knew she was this smart.
“Seem like decent folks. Dad comes from old money, the brother is the moneymaker now, though. Owns several companies. One that their mother has the most control over—interior design. Ms. Powers was a late in life child, not unwanted, but most assuredly, a surprise from what the brother has told me.”
I am not liking the picture being painted before me. I’ve never met the woman, and already, I have her pegged. How has no one else? How does no one see how broken she is? I can only imagine what prison has done to her.
“I’ll get to work in the next few days,” I inform Zach. Bastard knew I’d take it. “Don’t be fucking bugging me for updates, or I’ll walk.”
“Got it. Just don’t let her know you’re watching her. She gets tight-lipped when she thinks people are reporting on her.”
Just fucking great.
Hanging up with Zach, I have a gut feeling that Miss Ashley Powers is going to be a game changer. I’m just unsure how.
Ashley
He’s following me again. I don’t understand why. Since getting out of prison a month ago, I’ve set up a routine for myself. It began as a way to keep myself out of trouble. Not that I’ve had many opportunities since my release. I have no desire to contact any of my old friends so far, and honestly, I don’t think I plan to in the future. Keeping to myself seems to work best. Now it’s just become habit, almost comforting. No matter how hard I tried to stop, I found I couldn’t. It was the one thing I had complete control over, and I need that so badly right now.
For the last week, however, this man, a total “hotty mchottypants” has been everywhere. I don’t know if he’s trying to remain hidden, or if he wants me to know he’s there. I’m just over it.
I take an extra few minutes to place my order at Starbucks and even longer to mix my vanilla and cream into my drink. Once he’s sitting down, I wait until he diverts his eyes from me. Slipping through the employee entrance, I sneak to the front of the building, cross the street, and enter the bookstore to watch for him.
I need to know if he’s following me or not, and being sneaky seems to be the way to go. Less than a minute later, he comes running out the front door sans the coffee and muffin he bought, looking quite pissed off.
Ordinarily, I sit and drink my coffee. It’s how I prepare myself for the day. Unfortunately, getting up only to hang out with a bunch of prepubescent smartass teens isn’t always as fun as it sounds. After sleepless nights filled with nightmares, it’s becoming harder to get motivated.
The man looks aggravated as he searches up and down the street, presumably for me. Exiting my hiding place, I wait until his sight lands on me, but I’m not prepared for the impact. His deep blue gaze sears me to my soul, grabbing hold and damn near dragging me from my spot. I feel out of breath, and my stomach is doing flips. This can’t be happening.
Raising my coffee in salute, I walk away just as he smirks, knowing he’s been caught. My body hums with something akin to lust. I’ve never felt this kind of sucker punch before. The air literally gets knocked from my lungs, and I don’t particularly care for it.
I’m not ready to feel this way yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. I’ve done too much bad in my life to receive any good. I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean enough to experience the happiness I see in so many people around me.
With my thoughts already taking a dark turn, I know it’s going to be a bad day. Without a doubt, I will need a release at some point. I wish I didn’t. I can’t even say how it started or why, I just know it’s the only way to expel these turbulent emotions from my body.
I am so deep in thought that when a hand lands on my shoulder, my first instinct is to scream, so I do. Long and loud. I think I’ve pierced my own ear drums.
“Wooo, sorry. I tried to call to you, but I guess you didn’t hear me?” My hunky stalker holds his hands up in surrender, a look of shock crossing his features.
Raw from the emotions he evokes in me and not being able to deal with them right now, I snap at him. “What do you want?”
“Not a morning person, huh? Duly noted.” He laughs. When I don’t reciprocate, all humor fades from his demeanor. “I figured since I was caught, might as well Introduce myself.” He looks at me sheepishly enough.
“What exactly are you doing here?” I demand.
He mulls over my question like it’s that hard to answer. I think it’s simple enough. “Full disclosure?” he asks me.
Cocking my head to the side, I have to wonder if his momma dropped him on his skull. “No, please, lie to me.” God, I’m bitchy. My arms are itching with the need for release.
“Right, then. Zach hired me to follow you. Find out what th
e bad feeling he’s getting from you is.” Well, fuck. I wasn’t expecting that.
I know Zach doesn’t fully believe my happy-go-lucky persona. It’s exhausting, so I can’t blame him. I’m not happy. I’m fucking miserable. I hate getting up in the morning. I hate seeing the pity and shame in my parent’s eyes even though they say they forgive me. That they’re proud I’ve accepted my punishment with so much dignity. I’m fucking sick of seeing Landon and Cecilia so fucking happy. I’m just tired of everything and everyone in my life.
Might as well get his questions over with I guess. “What do you want to know?”
He’s sizing me up again. I feel like a bug under a microscope.
“I want you to have dinner with me,” he says. “Tonight.”
Well, color me stupid. He’s just like every man I’ve ever met.
“I’m not having sex with you so you can report back to him that all is fucking sunny,” I point-blank tell him. I refuse to mince my words or dick around the subject. This just means I have someone snooping in my life longer and harder.
“I don’t want sex,” he says, yet I can see the interest in his eyes.
“Then what do you want? Just spill it.” I’ve lost any semblance of patience I might have had by now.
“I can see the twitching in your fingers, but I know you’re not on drugs. The pain in your eyes screams you need relief in some way; I just haven’t figured it out yet.” He cocks his head to the side this time, studying me some more.
I fight to keep from scratching my arms, staying silent as his eyes travel up and down my body. I want to run so bad.
“Have dinner with me tonight. We’ll talk. I’ll see if there’s anything else I can help you with.” His offer stuns me. He wants to help me? Why? I hate being on the defensive all the time now.
“You haven’t told me your name yet.” I don’t know why I point it out. I have no interest in knowing him.
“Guess you’ll have to go out to dinner with me to find out. I’ll pick you up at six. Be ready.” He walks away like he thinks I’ll just do as he pleases.
I watch him as he makes his exit with his sexy swagger and fine ass like he owns the whole damn world. And with his looks and cocky attitude, I have no doubt he probably believes he does. I can’t have anything to do with that kind of perfect.
I tainted myself when I began pointing out other people’s imperfections, when I decided to be a follower instead of a leader. I have made so many hasty decisions based on what other people wanted instead of what I believed.
I know I can never have him, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to dream about a man like him seeing past my imperfections—and there were plenty of them. I’ll just never get to live the life I once planned for myself.
Gazing at my phone as it vibrates in my pocket, I see three texts from Landon and one from Zach, my parole officer. I have half a mind to blast him for sending that man to spy on me. For a week, he’s been watching me. Lord only knows what he’s seen.
I think back to make sure I haven’t done anything to give away my secret. If that gets out, I could only imagine what my parents would do. If they’d send me away again.
Some days, I feel like I’ve been nothing but a problem to handle for them. I admit I was never the best child. Most of what I did was for attention I never got. It wasn’t because they were bad parents, in fact, they showered me with love and everything I needed, yet I always felt like I craved more. Like somehow I wasn’t good enough for them.
I was unworthy.
Going to prison didn’t exactly make me feel any more deserving of their affection. If anything, it showed me I was just a spoiled, little brat with daddy issues.
It makes no fucking sense! And drives me absolutely insane.
Biting the bullet, I open the text from Zach first, unsurprised to see him reminding me of our appointment in a few days.
I met him the day I got out of FCCW. He seems like a nice enough guy. Demands honesty from me no matter how much I don’t want to give it, and for the most part, I comply.
Reaching the at-risk youth center I volunteer at, I immediately head to the employee washroom. Pulling a small razor from my pocket, I roll up my sleeve. My eyes critically roam my forearm.
My dirty secret.
My biggest shame.
My downfall.
Zach has a right to be worried. There is something wrong with me. So wrong, I don’t think I’ll ever be right again. Small nicks and scratches line my arms, my thighs, my stomach. Thirteen months evoked a lot of built up emotions, and this is the only way I find satisfaction, temporary though it may be. This is how I hide from the pain.
Placing the razor over a piece of skin that has long since healed, I slice a small line. The skin splitting burns as small drops of blood ooze from the fresh cut.
All I feel is relief.
Relief of the feelings that man evoked in me this morning.
Relief of the feelings that are soon to come from these kids.
Relief from all my failures.
Declan
“You did what?”
I cringe as Zach starts his tirade, zoning out almost as soon as he begins. He wants me to be effective, and Ash is a smart woman. She would have seen through any lies I’d told her, so I went with the truth.
Sighing, I’ve had enough. “Look, Zach, you asked me for help. She’s not some dumb criminal. She knows she fucked up, and she’s still paying for it. Let me do this my way, or I’m done.”
Cursing follows my ultimatum. “Don’t fuck with her; she’s as broken as they fucking come.” I don’t need his warning to know that.
“I got this. Untwist your panties and back off.” I hang up on him mid bitch fest again. I think he has a problem with control.
I have watched Ash for a week as she goes through a routine that prison probably helped her with. Going for coffee in the mornings then to the youth center for two hours. When she leaves there, she is almost always emotional and fidgety. She leaves looking wrecked. I think she’s taking on too much with this particular youth group. These are hard-core damaged kids. More problems than the most seasoned psychologist would know how to handle, let alone a dispirited woman fighting to find herself.
When she finishes up there, she spends time at a park, sometimes watching the families interact or laying on a bench staring up at the sky. Sometimes she just sits and silently cries. I’ve witnessed her do that twice now, and both times, I had to hold myself back from holding her.
I don’t know what it is about this woman, but she makes me want to rescue her. Even though I believe she wouldn’t let me.
By all accounts, she’s had a good life. Parents that love her, and a brother that appears to tolerate her. Friends galore. Though I suspect as with most girls like her, they hang around her because she’s the cool girl. I have to wonder if she has any real friends, someone she can confide in.
When she gets to the hotel where she found room cleaning work, she always looks ready to drop. Her emotions seem to get the best of her and cleaning dirty rooms after happy couples check out undoubtedly isn’t where she saw herself in life right now. When she leaves for the day, she looks dead on her feet. After working for twelve hours at such a physically taxing job, I can understand that.
I thought for sure during this week I’ve watched her that she would have had some kind of spa day or pamper herself or something, but she did nothing of the sort. Her file tells a story of a girl that doesn’t exist. Or, at least, not anymore.
I was led to believe that she was as high-maintenance as they come; however, she is anything but that. She’s a real girl in the real world with real-life problems. Honestly, I think I’m glad I didn’t know the other her. The one who was nasty and entitled. If I did, I don’t think I’d be feeling this attraction I can’t seem to fight. Even worse, I don’t want to.
There’s something about her that calls to me on an elemental level. From the first second our eyes locked after she’d given me th
e slip, I felt a jolt unlike anything I’ve ever known. I want to learn all her secrets, her hopes, her dreams. Most of all, I want to know what she’s hiding. Because after our recent encounter, I’m more convinced than ever that she is hiding something dark.
The question is: am I ready to find out the answer?
Chapter Three
Ashley
I guess I should have let him know I was working tonight. That I wouldn’t be finding out his name, and that I’ll ask Zach why he’s following me. I don’t want to meet him anyway. Yeah, right, it’s the lie I keep telling myself. He intrigues me, and that’s not a good thing.
I don’t need any trouble; I don’t want his kind of trouble. He makes me wish for things I’m not sure I’m ready to handle. Family. Hearth. Home. None of those will happen for me, and I’m getting used to it. Sort of. As long as I don’t think about it. And he makes me think about it.
These emotions are ridiculous. I still don’t know his name. I know nothing about him yet feel such a strong connection to him. I could ask Zach, except that would mean a ton of questions from him that I don’t want to answer.
Ugh!
Stupid attraction. Stupid perfect man. Why now?
I’m finally getting used to how life will unfold for me. This ridiculous dead-end job working in a cheesy hotel where couples come to rejuvenate their relationships.
I snort thinking about it. If things are so bad, they should seek counselling, not a legal way to cheat on their spouse. Yeah, that shocked me too.
I remember my second day there; I watched one couple enter separate rooms, and then other people walk in not long after. A little while later, the moaning and screaming and other noises began. Once the original couple came out, they started bickering even more about how they enjoyed sex with other people more than together.
Personally, not for me. Sex doesn’t do anything for me, period. I think I’m defective in that department. I’ve never gained pleasure from the intimate act. Whether with a man, woman, or by myself. Not once have I been left feeling satisfied. If anything, I felt empty. So I stopped trying long before I was sent to prison.