by Autumn Sand
My hands tighten and hold my fork and knife in a death grip, as I sit back in my chair and wait patiently for her to finish.
“Wheeler threatened Lelia’s safety. He wants to use me to get to you. So when you said Wheeler was still alive, I felt I didn’t have a choice but to leave.” Her head tilts down to her plate when she finishes.
I stand abruptly, sending my chair falling backward and crashing on to the tile floor. Cyma gasps, causing me to look and see her eyes widen, as she places both hands on either side of her plate. Fuck! Closing my eyes briefly, I count to twenty and concentrate on simple things like not snapping Wheeler’s neck. It’s not working. My nostrils flare and my muscles tighten. I look at the wall and fight the urge not to punch a hole in it. My hands are gripped so tightly into fists they are now shaking. The only thing holding me back from going ape shit is Cyma. I can’t lose my shit in front of her and risk losing her again. How do people handle their anger? Drink? No, I don’t think she would approve of me getting drunk every time I’m about to lose my shit. Sex? I look at her and she doesn’t seem like she’s in the mood for sex, so that’s out of the question. A shower. That seems like the least destructive option, so a shower it is.
“Give me five minutes. Be right back.” I head into my shower and let the water hit me as I punch the tiled wall repeatedly. That fucking son of a bitch Wheeler is fucking dead when I see him. He dared to threaten Lelia’s safety to get to me? Finishing up in the shower quickly, I dial Tony and give him the quick update. He’s sending someone to stand guard at Lelia’s room. Taking a seat back at the table, I’m not completely calm, but I’m not a raging lunatic either. “Sorry about that. Just needed a minute to adjust to that information.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t tear the loft apart.” She gives me a soft smile and shakes her head.
“Who me? Nah. I got this under control. No more temper outbursts.” Just a lot of showers probably; fucking water bill is going to be crazy. “I called Tony and told him what you said. He’s sending a guard to Lelia’s room. We can’t take any chances.”
She releases a sigh and sits back into her chair. “Tell him thank you.”
“Tell him yourself.”
“I know. I will.” She bites her bottom lip and clasps her hands on her lap.
“What’s wrong? Is there something else?” My fists clench under the table as I wait for her to speak.
“Your temper, Dante. My ex… he….” She turns away as a tear falls down her cheek, and I want to kill her ex.
“Your ex what?” I try to make my voice sound soothing to coax the words out of her.
With a pained expression, she says, “He would beat me, Dante. That last night together, when you threw that glass, I thought for a minute that… that….” She shakes her head from side to side, and I stand up and pull her into my arms.
“Cyma, I’m sorry. I would never touch you in anger. You have to believe me.”
She searches my eyes before bending her head to my shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t get afraid. You have to understand.”
My gut feels as if it’s been cut open. Fuck, can I be any more of a fucking asshole? “I’m sorry. You never told me that he hit you.”
Pulling away, she goes to the window and stares out. “It’s not something that I find easy to talk about, even now.” She turns back around to face me. “My father used to beat my mom up. I remember after a particular beating, my mother was left on the floor, her body broken. I crawled from under the kitchen cabinet, where I took to hiding when he was in his drunken rages, and scurried across the floor and over to her. I asked her why she didn’t leave him.”
She wipes the tears away from her cheeks. “You know what she said?” I shake my head. “She said that she loved him too much to leave. And she never did. He died years later, when I was eighteen.”
She turns back to face the window again, placing her hand on the glass. “With my ex-husband, Ryan, it started out okay, I guess. He would slap me every now and then if I talked back to him. Eventually the slaps became fists. Before I knew it, I was my mother. I couldn’t leave him because I loved him.”
I take a few steps toward her, but she turns around and shakes her head at me. I stop in my tracks as I, once again, feel as if I’m being gutted. I want to take her in my arms and make her forget this shit.
“You know when it finally got into my head that I had to leave? Lelia.” Holding her hands to her face again, she shakes as she relives the memories. “After he gave me one really bad beating, there I was on the floor, just as I remembered my mom being all those years ago. Lelia was in her crib and our eyes locked on one another. And that’s when I knew I had to leave.”
My body trembles with rage for her fucking ex-husband. I want to place my hands around his neck and squeeze the life out of him. But I know that handling things with my fists is not always the right path to follow because I don’t want her to leave me again. Slowly I approach her with my hands stretched out to either side of me. Her gaze is on my hands as I step closer and closer. Stopping mere inches from her our eyes meet, she steps into my waiting arms and cries. I close my eyes and hold my woman as I feel my heart being ripped out. We stay like this for a long time, just holding each other and healing. Eventually, when her tears finally finish falling, she kisses me tenderly. It’s is a reminder that she’s not fragile but a precious gem that I was lucky enough to find.
Hours later, eating lunch at the table with Cyma, we sit in companionable silence. This has been an emotionally draining day for both of us. I break the silence to discuss her safety.
“Okay, you’ll be keeping your bodyguard. Only difference this time is you’ll know he’s there. Please don’t fight me on this.”
She takes a deep breath before nodding her agreement. “Okay, I won’t fight you.”
Okay, let’s try my luck again. “Now your work situation, I don’t like the fact that you work nights. I want your time to be devoted to that sick little girl in the hospital. No need for you to work right now. I have more than enough money for our family.”
“Dante, you have to understand that I want to work. I still need to feel independent.”
“I’m just saying, why work while Lelia’s in the hospital? When she gets out, you can get a job. I’ve already proven to you that I’m not going anywhere.” I wait for her to let my words sink in.
She stands and paces the floor as she bites her thumbnail. After several spins around the loft, she steps in front of me with her hands on her hips. “I’m not budging on this.”
I see the stubborn will in her eyes and I know she won’t back down. Placing my fork down, I steeple my fingers together in front of me. “Okay, how about this instead? I can get you an interview with Anaya at her interior design place. She’s looking for a new assistant since her old one was promoted. Pay is going to be more than you make at the diner, plus whatever second job you were looking for. Hours are perfect and you’ll be working with family.”
The wheels in her head are turning, most likely trying to poke holes in my offer. “If I get the job, it’ll be because I’m qualified? Not because I share your bed?”
Is she fucking for real? I’m sure she’s more than qualified, but fuck yeah she’ll get the job simply because she’s my woman. We always protect our own. But I’m guessing this is not what she wants to hear. “Of course, you’ll get the job under your own steam.” I hold up my right hand. “Scouts honor.”
“You were a Boy Scout?”
“Fuck, no. But I figured there’s a lot of fucking people who say it and were never Scouts. Why not me too?” We both laugh at my comment and I know she’ll agree to the interview.
After lunch, I leave her to move things around the loft however she sees fit, and I’m off to visit Anaya at her office. With Anaya’s cup of coffee in hand, I go to make a surprise appearance.
“What brings you here?” she asks as she stares at the large offering in my hand—her liquid
crack. I hand it over and she smiles as she takes a sip. “Mmm. Yum. Have a seat and let’s talk.”
I take a seat on the couch next to her. “Well, I came bearing gifts because I have a favor to ask.”
Taking another sip of her coffee, she closes her eyes momentarily as she savors the taste of it. “Anything. Just name it.”
You see, this is what I’m talking about. Family. Family will help you no questions asked. “My girl. She needs a job that has normal hours. I know you need a new assistant. Figured she could interview for the position. If she works with you, then it frees her up to have more time with her daughter.”
Placing her coffee on the table, she places her hands on her lap. “She’s hired.”
“Well, here’s the thing, she wants to be interviewed. She wants to know she got this job on her own and not because we’re together.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I do understand that feeling.” Before she and Tony got together, he hired her to redesign his clubs. Anaya had no idea it was all a part of Tony’s revenge plot against Ignacio. She was devastated when she found out.
“So will you interview her seriously?”
“Yes. I’ll give her a serious interview. Leave it in my hands. Besides, I’m just happy that I can do something for you for once.”
“You do enough. You gave birth to my godson. What more can a guy ask for?” She gives me a quick hug. “I don’t want to hold you up any more. Thanks for helping out with this.”
“No problem at all. Have her stop by my office later this week.” We both stand, giving each other another hug, and I leave.
Today is shaping up to be a good day after all.
Chapter 24
Ironic ~ Alanis Morissette
Cyma
Sitting in the reception area of Anaya’s interior design firm, I wait to be called into her office for my interview. Dante insists that, if I do get the job, it’ll be on my own merit. Somehow, I don’t believe him, but he’s right that I need a day job with regular hours so I can spend more time with Lelia at the hospital.
“Ms. Sawyer? Anaya will see you now.” A well-groomed woman approaches me. I stand and follow her through the very modern offices. She opens a door and I see a very attractive woman who seems to be in her mid to late twenties with soft curly brown hair, which falls freely down her back. Her large brown eyes are warm and inviting. She has a genuine smile on her face as she approaches me with her hand out for me to shake.
“Hi, I’m Anaya Delaney.”
Shaking her hand, I reply, “I’m Cyma Sawyer.”
She nods at the woman who escorted me to the office. The woman closes the door behind her. “Please have a seat at the table so we can talk.”
I wait for her to sit first before taking a seat myself. “Thank you for taking the time to interview me.”
“No, thank you for applying for the position. I’m sure Tick has informed you that my longtime assistant has been promoted to an interior designer for my company. So I’m in desperate need of another assistant.”
“Yes, he told me that.” I look at Anaya—I mean really look at her and her office surroundings—and feel out of place. I’m a stripper and a waitress, who has a GED. Why am I here? I don’t fit into a place like this with people like her. Her outfit alone has to be worth three months of my checks, including my tips. My self-esteem lowers yet another notch. Why did I let Dante talk me into this? I try to steady my shaking hands on my lap by pretending to play with the hem on my skirt.
“Is there something wrong?” Anaya’s brows furrow in concern.
“Umm, no.” Pausing, I gather my thoughts. “I, ugh, I don’t know what I’m doing here.” I blurt the words out, and before I know it, I’m in tears. Instantly, Anaya is there, embracing me in a hug.
“Now, now. It’s okay.” I sob into her shoulder, and I don’t even know what I’m crying about. I’m so insecure about everything. How does a person become as self-assured as Anaya is? She appears as if she has all the answers, as if she has never had a worry in the world. “Fran,” Anaya calls out, and the door opens. “Fran, I’m going out to lunch. Most likely, I’ll be gone for the rest of the day. Can you reschedule my appointments?”
“Yes.” Fran turns to follow Anaya’s instructions.
Now I feel horrible. She is rescheduling her day because of me. Can this interview get any worse? “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. Please don’t do that.”
“Shh. It’s nothing. Besides, I could use some fresh air anyway.” She grabs her purse and I follow her out the door as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. Once downstairs, we get into her waiting town car. Fifteen minutes later, we’re pulling up to one of the most fashionable places to eat in Manhattan.
I pause at the door of the restaurant, unwilling to take another step inside. “I, ugh, I’m not dressed for this place.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s all about the attitude. You can wear something that cost ten dollars but still look like you have the most expensive outfit on with the way you carry yourself. Confidence. Never let them see you sweat.” She winks at me and I follow her inside of the restaurant. They immediately usher us to a table. She seems to be a regular.
Anaya orders herself a Jack and Coke with a twist of lime. I stick with water. She pooh-poohs me and tells them I’ll have the same as she’s having.
“I really don’t drink. I never know when I might get a phone call about my daughter. I like to stay alert.”
“Just one time, you’ll let your hair down, okay?”
“Okay.” I like her. I believe she and I could become good friends if I could just get over my insecurities.
“So let’s address the elephant in the room. What were the tears for?” She crosses her legs, placing her hands on her lap, and waits.
Slumping further into my chair I pick up a fork and draw imaginary lines on the tablecloth. “I guess I felt insecure and overwhelmed.”
“Insecure? Why?”
I feel my ears tingle with heat. “Look at me, and then look at you.”
She reaches across the table and lifts my chin up. “I am looking at you. You are a beautiful woman. Did you not notice how every man in this restaurant stared at you? I wish I had the type of beauty you have. The type that is inside and out.”
“Thank you. But you know I was a stripper.”
“So what?. We all have baggage. I wasn’t born into this.” She spreads her hands out and places them back on her lap. “I reinvented myself and you can too. I’m with the love of my life and we have a beautiful son together. I have an extended family I never imagined possible. Tick is like a brother to me and Manny and Magnum, those loons are too. But Tick and I will always have that special connection.”
Listening to her story somehow makes me feel better. She tells me about how she and Tony met and fell in love. She recounts how she was raped by her ex and the emotional turmoil she was in and how she’s still dealing with the emotional repercussions of being violated. Anaya is so open with her story. There are no regrets and no hesitation on her part as she recounts her life in detail.
“Anaya, I’m so sorry that you went through all that.” Reaching my hand across the table, I lay it on top of hers.
Startled at first, she blinks rapidly as if I broke her out of a deep thought, and then a soft smile appears on her face as she places her other hand on top of mine. “I am and then I’m not. I’m sorry because no one should have to go through the things I went through. But I’m not because it has made me a stronger woman. It has made me more sympathetic to all sides of a story. No one is perfect and no one’s life is a fairy tale. We just hope to have those fairy tale moments from time to time.”
I completely understand why Anaya and Dante are so close. I can see his protective side wanting to rescue her. I can also see how their friendship has, in its own way, helped her heal as well. “Well, I guess I haven’t made a very good impression for my interview.”
She waves off my comment. “Oh, plea
se. Just so you know, you have the job if you want it.”
I smile and nod, the alcohol quickly rushing to my head.
She smiles at me. “You know what we need to do to celebrate your new job?”
“No, what?”
“We need to go to the hottest club in the tristate area this Saturday night. I believe I know the owner, so we’ll be comped all the way,” she says, with a wink and a playful twinkle in her eye.
Chapter 25
London Bridge ~ Fergie
Tick
Saturday nights at Pulse are always our busiest. It took everything in me to leave my woman in bed as I headed out to work. She said she might be going out later tonight. I’m glad she’s going out, but not so happy that she’s going without me. Yeah, I’m a possessive fucker.
“So how’re things with Cyma?” Tony asks before taking a gulp of his scotch. Tony, Manny, and I are sitting in Tony’s office, throwing back a few drinks.
“Good. She’s settled into the loft. She hasn’t started looking for a house for us yet.” If you had told me several months ago that I would be sitting here right now talking casually about having a woman, who I’m in love with, living with me and on top of that, looking for a house together, I would’ve laughed you out the door.
“Oh, brother. Man, you’re finally domesticated?” Manny asks while lighting up a cigarette.
“Domesticated and loving it,” I admit honestly. To tell you the truth, I can’t even remember what life was like before she came into it.
“You two are pathetic,” Manny quips, flicking ash into the ashtray.
“It’s going to happen to you one day,” Tony says as he sits back in his chair.
“Fuck no. Got ninety-nine problems, but a chick ain’t one.”
“Anaya home for the night?” I ask. She told me about Cyma’s breakdown in her office and how they went out to lunch together. Anaya said she really likes Cyma and thinks she’s a good woman for me. I feel more at ease now that two of the most important women in my life are now friends.