by Lyssa Layne
My dad, my brother and my sister never liked Kelly. After I introduced her to them, they warned me to be careful, but I didn't listen. With Kelly, I was having so much fun, I felt like a teenager again. We were always on the go, doing whatever the hell we felt like doing. Almost to the point of selfishness. Running our lives the way we wanted to, became our top priority and to hell with everyone else.
Things changed after I offered to work on her portfolio. Kelly was truly happy about the offer, and it made me happy to help her out. The day of her photo shoot, she was ecstatic. I knew exactly what theme to go for; showing off her ink and making sure she looked her absolute best. I gave her some quick prints that night and the following day, I gave her the professional quality photos. Everything changed that day. I’d given her what she was after–-professional photographs taken by a well-known and well-respected photographer. She didn’t need me anymore and by the time I got home from work that night, Kelly was gone. She packed up everything at my apartment, and left without so much as a goodbye. When I tried to contact her, she wouldn’t return my calls. Days later, I heard from a mutual contact that she’d packed up and headed to Europe, determined to make it as a professional model.
During my crazy relationship with Kelly, I had been seriously slacking at work. One of my major New York contracts was coming up in two weeks and I needed to get my shit together. I had a mantra, which I kept telling myself, almost constantly, while I came to terms with Kelly’s behaviour: Be a man, Presley! This is your life. Your reputation. Everything you've worked so hard for over the years. It’s time to get back in the game. Be better. Be stronger. Man up!
I know life will continue to throw curveballs at me; I’m just trying to convince myself that Kelly was one of those curveballs. I know it’s time to walk away from the hurt, and learn from it.
Getting dressed for the day, I shake my thoughts away and focus on something else. No more Kelly. I pick my favorite jeans and t-shirt, tousle my hair just a bit and get something to eat.
Tonight, my favorite band is in town, playing a gig. It’s my night, I decide. I need to start fresh and move on from the Kelly situation. First though, I need to call Joshua, my brother. I haven't seen him much lately and I miss his company. We get along well; at least, we did until Hurricane Kelly happened. I grab my phone and call him right away.
''Joshua, do you still have my ticket to the concert, or did you find someone else to take it?'' I ask.
"I knew you'd decide to come! I still have it, and it's yours, man.''
''Great! I'll meet you at the bar before the concert.'' Already, I feel my mood lifting—for the first time in weeks. This is shaping up to a good night.
''Alright!” Joshua sounds pleased. “Ali is coming along, too,'' he adds, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he mentions his girlfriend.
“Great! See you then! Take care, Josh.'' I'm smiling. Shit, I'm finally smiling again. Baby steps, but I already feel better.
I've been pretty boring lately. I haven’t gone out much in recent weeks, I was too upset about the Kelly situation, and quite frankly, I thought I was missing her. It never occurred to me that she was going to be the girl I married, but honestly, being with her was crazily addictive. I didn’t care about anything else when I was with Kelly. Her wildness engulfed me, blinded me to everything else. All that existed was Kelly–the parties, the drinking and, fuck...the sex. I was carried away by her intoxicating lifestyle and I drank it up faster that the shots of tequila she used to pour down my throat.
At first, after she left, I missed it. Then, after a while, I figured out that maybe it wasn’t right to live like that on a long-term basis. After months of the life of a rock star, I needed a break. Hell, my body needs it.
So for a long while, I stayed in my apartment most of the time; did some painting, worked on my photos or caught up on sleep. To be honest, I’d had my feelings crushed by her and I turned into a bit of a hermit.
I realize now that it has to change. I want a social life again. I need to get out and about, with my real friends, not the fake people I spent time with when I was with Kelly. I’ve missed hanging out with my siblings. I'm done moping around because of a girl. She kicked down my pride, and it hurt; but today is the beginning of a new chapter in my life.
CHAPTER TWO
Abbie
LOVE, NOUN
1. A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. A feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3. Sexual passion or desire.
4. A person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
I've been dating Dean Hurley for the past three years. The problem is–-I just don't feel it anymore. I've been reading the definitions of ‘love’ for over an hour while listening to a remix of my favorite songs. Sitting on my bed with my legs crossed, I repeat each meaning out loud. In my mind, I don't think of Dean when I think of the word ‘love’ anymore. Unfortunately, I know I'm done with him. The word ‘hate’ is feeling more appropriate and it’s about time I finally accept it.
Stepping out of the bed, I put my book aside and realize now, that I haven't been in love with him for a long time. Ever since he started acting like a jerk, just before our first anniversary. When I met him, I thought he was my soul mate, however, as the months went by, his attitude towards me started to change and my impressions of him changed. Dean’s new position as a financial director went to his head, and now he thinks he’s superior to me and he loves reminding me of the fact.
Lost in my thoughts, I add some more powder to my cheeks, I want to look pretty and feel good about myself tonight. Lately, I’ve put double the time into my work and didn’t take time for myself. I’m anxious about tonight. Regardless of anything else, the passion in our relationship is gone. The sex has gotten boring, and I don't see myself with him five years from now. I don’t even see myself with him next week. I have to admit though; I'm not looking forward to breaking up with Dean, because he tends to get mad when he suffers any rejection. Actually, mad is probably an understatement. I'm afraid he’ll get nasty when I tell him it’s over.
I saw him turn nasty few months ago while we were out with his friends. An old girlfriend showed up and they started arguing. I didn't like it. He scared me.
‘What the hell are you doing here, Joyce? You don’t belong here. Get a fucking life, this is my life. I don’t want to see your pathetic face again, understand? Or is it too complicated?’
‘What’s wrong with you, Dean?’ She tried to get closer to him but he pushed away.
‘Don’t Dean me, don’t talk to me or even look my way. You’re nothing, Joyce. I’m so happy I got rid of you.’ She stood there, silent and in shock. ‘Now, I suggest you go back to wherever the fuck you came from. I don’t want to see your face anymore.’
She nodded and I never saw her again.
I was ashamed to be his girlfriend when I saw him behaving the way he did.
It isn’t the only time I’ve seen the darker side of his personality. Months ago, we were attending a Christmas party with his colleagues, just having some fun, when one of his assistants started dancing with me. There was nothing going on, we were only having fun, but Dean didn't like it.
Maybe he’d had too much to drink. He escorted me out to the hallway, and as soon as we were in private, he pushed me up against the wall and started calling me names that I'd rather not recall. The grin on his face as he told me exactly what kind of trash I was told me everything I needed to know. He said I was his, and other men were not allowed to talk with me, or dance with me. Dean’s a very jealous man and he’s great at destroying my self-esteem. After he was done yelling, we left the party. Dean told everyone I was sick.
I cried the whole night. He didn’t hit me, in fact, he never has, but his words were designed to destroy me. He calls me ‘a parasite’, ‘a useless bitch’, or ‘a fucking whore.
Whenever Dean is with m
e, he's controlling and covetous, and always has been. When we’re with his friends, his behavior is more acceptable. It's the only reason I've managed to stay with him for this long.
Most of the time, we're with his friends, so he's polite and courteous. To be honest, being alone in Seattle is what scares me the most, and it’s the main reason I’ve stayed with Dean for so long.
I'll need to break up with him in a public place; somewhere he’ll be wary of losing control. Maybe we could go to a park. Just thinking about it makes me incredibly nervous. My stomach ties itself in knots and a shiver runs down my spine. I need to calm down. Tomorrow night, it’s going to be over, and I’ll be free. I feel better already, knowing I’m so close to getting rid of him.
Months ago, Dean bought tickets for tonight’s Muse concert. I love their music but I feel guilty going with him when I’m planning to leave him. I tried to tell Dean to sell my ticket to one of his friends, but he didn’t want to hear about it. He said he only bought the tickets to please me. So here I am getting ready for a night with Dean and his friends. I want to go because they’re my favorite band but it doesn’t feel right. It’s making me uncomfortable. On the other hand, I know I’ll regret it if I don’t go. He's picking me up in an hour, and his friends, Jonathan and Jessie, are coming with us. Hopefully with them in tow, it'll be fun and Dean will behave.
Looking at my clothes hanging in my closet, I’m thinking about tomorrow. I'll ask him if we can go for a walk at Waterfront Park. I have to break up with him. I can't keep pretending I want to be with him. It's wrong, and I need to make it right, both for my sake and Dean’s. I pick a few outfits but decide to go with something simple. Opting for something comfortable, I decide to wear my favorite black skinny jeans with my black and white tank top. It fits like a second skin and accentuates my breast. I love it and I doubt Dean will say anything against it. Pairing my outfit with my favorite purple converse, I know tonight will be all about having fun and dancing comfortably. I can already hear Dean's complaints in my head, but I want to be comfortable to dance. ‘Why do you always dress like you’re fifteen years old, Abbie?’, or, ‘Why do you always have to wear those damn Converse?’ I’m so tired of his attitude. I'm not a business woman, so I don't do the suit thing. I like dressing for comfort; I’m not a clothes whore. Dean is welcome to wear his boring clothes; I couldn't care less. I never complain about his awful ties—out loud at least.
I'm lucky enough to read books for a living: I review them for the Chief Editor at a major publishing house. I don't need to dress up for my job; I can do it in my pyjamas if I feel like it. It’s one more benefit I love about my career.
I hear the knock at the door and wipe my sweaty palms down the side of my jeans. Calm down, Abbie. Calm down. It’s going to be okay. I go to the door but he’s using his key.
''Abbie, baby? Are you ready?'' Dean says, as he walks into my apartment wearing black trousers with a blue shirt and a black tie. He doesn’t smile much, but he’s staring at me. I just want to roll my eyes. Seriously?
''Yeah, I'm almost done'' I respond and go back to applying the last of my make-up, my mascara.
I hear him striding through the living room. I catch sight of his reflection in the mirror, as he walks up behind me.
“Those jeans accentuate your fine ass. But seriously, Abbie, what is it that you like about those damn shoes?''
I knew it. I roll my eyes and try to control my irritation. ''Dean, I don’t want to spend the night killing my ankles in heels I hate to walk in, when I could wear these, be comfy and dance the night away.” I tried to gauge his mood, judging how far I could safely push. “I don’t want us to fight over this, okay?'' I deliberately kept my tone calm and soft, trying to sound reasonable. I’m always so afraid of what his reaction will be. He could order me to change clothes – he’s done it before and he certainly won’t hesitate to do it again. Tonight though, I’m praying he won’t push the subject. I don’t want to miss a second of the concert and to get there on time, we need to be leaving now.
Dean studies me, and pushes my hair back from my face. I force myself not to react under his touch, to hide the disgust I feel when he touches me. I think he’s okay for now. He doesn’t look angry.
''Can we go?'' I ask. I know this isn’t the right thing to do. Dean always makes the decisions, says when we can leave, or when we come home. Normally, he has a short temper but tonight, he lets it go. It’s my lucky day.
''Whatever, Abbie.'' He sighs. ''Wear the damn Converse. I don’t know why you’re such a bitch. I only asked a question.''
'I’m sorry,'' I say sheepishly. I don’t want him to get mad; we've only been together for two minutes and already I’ve pissed him off. I fear it's going to be a long night.
The cab is waiting downstairs for us and I try to give myself one final pep talk before getting in. Once inside, Dean rubs his fingers against mine and I’m guessing he wants to hold my hand. At the moment, all I want is space. I need a few minutes to regain control of my emotions. Slowly breathing in and out does the trick. I try ignoring the smell inside the car. Maybe the driver should try to ease off with his bottle of cheap cologne. That and the heat must be on, because I can’t believe how hot it is in here. Dean must have noticed because he lowers his window, giving me just enough air to make the ride tolerable. I have to admit it’s nice of him to make sure I’m comfortable.
I'm going to see Muse. I should be super excited, not angry. I stare out of the window of the cab, trying to force a smile. Muse is my favorite band. Matthew Bellamy is kind of hot, too, and that's a bonus. Now, I manage a smile. WaMu Theatre, here I come!
Jessie and Jonathan are waiting for us at the entrance. As soon as Jessie sees us, she runs over to greet us both. She's so excited, she can hardly contain herself. She hugs me tightly, squeezing out my breath in a whoosh. She makes me laugh, because it isn’t like her to be so demonstrative. She’s nice but she isn't usually the touchy feely type. I think this is only the second time she’s hugged me since I met her. I can’t help but wonder if something is up tonight that she knows…that I don’t.
When I met Dean, he introduced me to Jessie and Jonathan. They’ve been good friends with Dean since their first year of high school together. Jessie and Jonathan were high school sweethearts and I’m pretty certain they’ll end up getting married. It’s part of our regular routine to see them a few times a week, at their place or Dean’s, and about every two weeks we make it out for an official couple’s date. Jessie and I shared a few mutual classes on campus, so we hung out a bit at college, but we were never particularly close. I’d classify her as a friend, but sometimes, I get the impression she’s keeping an eye on me for Dean. Jessie is a nice girl, but she’s not the kind of friend I can talk to about anything important. She has a very close friendship with Dean, so it’s not an option to talk about our relationship with her.
Dean's trying to touch me again, which creates a flash of annoyance, but I quickly clamp down on it. He places his hand on the small of my back, and smoothly slides it down to my ass. I let him, because if I protest, it will have the same effect as a nuclear bomb and he’s likely to explode with anger.
''Come on, Jessie, we have to hurry! I want to be as close as possible to the stage.'' I say with uncontained excitement. We leave the men behind in our rush to the front of the crowd. The further away I am from Dean, the better I feel. We have floor tickets, which mean no seats. We’ll be standing, jumping and dancing in front of the band all night. I want to be sure we get to be in the front. I hold Jessie's hand firmly, trying to force our way to the front. There are so many people here already! My heart is beating rapidly, I'm excited and anxious to see Muse live on stage.
Lana Del Rey is the opening act. I've heard a little about her, but not too much. When she gets on stage, I instantly fall in love. She’s so mysterious and so young, but her voice is amazingly mature. It's breathtaking. I am already planning on buying all of her songs for my iPod, as soon as I get home.
''What's up between you and Dean?'' Jessie asks curiously between a break in the set.
I know I have to be careful. They were his friends first, and I’m certain they'll always choose his side, over mine. I try to casually brush it off. ''Nothing, we had a little argument before we got here. That's all.''
''Are you sure you guys are alright?'' I roll my eyes at how curious she is, and I sense she’s digging for information. The fact that I’m not giving anything away frustrates her. She flicks her hair as if she’s trying to brush me off. I don’t want to be rude to her and tell her to butt out; she doesn't deserve that.
''I guess we'll see,'' I say. I lower my gaze, not wanting to meet her eyes. I know now that tomorrow has to be the end, for sure. I just can’t take this anymore. It isn’t fair to me, him or them.
Jessie lets the subject drop, and we dance to Lana's voice and music. Dean's not as glued to my side as he normally would be, and I feel like I’ve been given a reprieve for the moment. Jessie's dancing and having a great time. She has no coordination, but she doesn’t seem to care one bit and she makes me smile. I’m dancing freely, having a good time as I follow the rhythm of the music. Suddenly, Jessie's attention is on something behind me.
Before I can turn around to see what she’s looking at, I feel someone touch either side of my hips, as they try to squeeze through the tight crowd. I automatically assume it’s Dean, but it occurs to me quickly that it isn’t him, because the grip is not as tense as Dean’s usually is. I glance behind me, and see a stranger. I feel every single one of his fingers touching me, sending a vibration of awareness through my bones. Or is it electricity? I can't even describe it properly. I hold my breath and close my eyes, trying to regain control of my raging thoughts. I’ve never felt anything like this, it almost seems supernatural. A wave of shivers spreads along my spine, awakening all of my senses.