Broken Heart (Broken Heart #1)

by Angel Rose

  twisted and turned and the cabby got me there in fifteen minutes flat. Damn! That was fast. I paid him and slammed the door shut, running into the building, then into the elevator and banging on

  the number two. The elevator door opened, and as I rushed towards the office door, the receptionist stopped me.

  “Um…excuse me miss…do you have an appointment?” Her voice was unpleasant, and she seemed annoyed while she folded her arms against her chest.

  “Yes,” I muttered out of breath, halting to a stop in front of her.

  “Dr. Logan?” She carefully analyzed me, gazing at me up and down, and then she raised her eyebrow and gave me the, “Well, are you going to answer me?” look.

  “Yes, Dr. Logan.” I snapped at her. She kept her eyes tight and narrow on me. She turned up her snooty little nose and picked up the office phone and said,

  “Dr. Logan, your twelve thirty appointment is here.” She slammed the phone on the hook, and without looking at me, she continued her interrogation.

  “I’m assuming you’re Jenesis Heart, am I correct?”

  “Yes, you assumed correctly.” I threw daggers at her with my eyes. She’s had it out for me since I walked in to the damn office. If they have a survey for me to fill out at the end of this appointment for courteous staff, she’s getting all ZEROS.

  “Jenesis?” I heard a sweet, subtle voice, and then I looked up and saw a beautiful, angelic face. Her blue eyes lit up the room, and her perfectly shaped lips were colored in pomegranate red. This therapist looked like a model for Chanel Number Five. She stood straight up with her shoulders

  pushed back, as if she had a book on her head and someone was demanding that she walked straight and tall or they would threaten to thrash her. She wore an olive green pencil skirt that fit tightly

  against her flat abs and impeccable round ass. Her white silk blouse was tucked in neatly and a gold-laced belt was wrapped firmly around her tiny waist. She wore the best white Jimmy Choo

  peep toes I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen them in magazines before, and I know I can’t even sneeze in their direction; her satin bleached blonde hair was cut into a bob to perfection, glistening and

  bouncy, and…her makeup and skin were unblemished, not a line or pimple to impede on her beauty.

  I stopped staring at the vision of gorgeousness that was placed before me and stood up trying to put my fashion disaster together to at least try to look presentable. I could feel the receptionist glaring at me from the corner of her eyes, making sure I heard her snicker, then cough as my eyes

  met hers in a standoff. If E!’s fashion police camera was around to get this shot; they’d tear me up from the top of my messy hair down to my sneakers. What an embarrassment!

  “That’s me,” I answered trying to sound confident.

  “Come on in, Jenesis.”

  I passed by the receptionist and gave her the filthiest look I could give. She puckered her “too red” lips at me and snapped her head to the side, as if, “Well I never!” Trust me sweetie, you never will, not with that attitude. I proceeded into the office and she motioned for me to sit in the rather large

  red leather sofa in the middle of the room. The office was colossal, and I felt like Alice in wonderland, except I was the tiniest person in the room. The room was exquisitely decorated

  with a posh Manhattan style. My mouth parted slightly as I scanned the room. I was speechless to say the least, and she noticed.

  “Please, have a seat, Jenesis.” Her smile was infectious. There was nothing about this woman that was wrong.

  “Thank you.” I sat down on the leather sofa and leaned back against it. The cold feel of the leather shocked me a little, waking me up from her stunning, beautiful face.

  “So, how can I help you?” She sat up straight arching her shoulders back and not leaning against her million-dollar brown leather chair. I sat up a little trying to straighten myself out, but it didn’t matter, the way I was dressed, I looked like I was going out for a jog in Central Park.

  “Well, I’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately.”

  “Okay…would you like to tell me about them?”

  “I…um…I’ve been waking up on the floor.” I hung my head towards the floor, feeling deflated about the way I looked and then having to explain to this goddess that I was slamming against the floor every night.

  “Jenesis, please know that whatever you say here is confidential. No one in this office is privy to your information; the ladies outside only handle appointments and insurance.” She tried really hard

  to reassure me that no one would know my business, but that little red-lipped hussy outside made me think differently.

  “Can you tell me why you think you’re having nightmares that are so violent?” Violent? My eyes were squinting at her not really realizing what she was saying. Wow, I never thought of it that way, and I shook my head at the thought.

  “My father was an alcoholic and very abusive to my mother…and…me…most of the time.” I glanced up at her to see her reaction. She wrote notes on her clipboard and then glanced up at me

  to observe my face. It wasn’t the reaction I thought I was going to get. She seemed calm, cool, and collected…and not to mention, perfectly beautiful. “I’m so sorry to hear that…Jenesis…did your

  father ever hit you? Hurt you?” she asked as she stared intensely at me, writing furiously on her clipboard like she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Well…he hurt me, when he hurt my mother. He was more…verbally abusive to me.” I felt the lump in throat start to form. I couldn’t swallow and my heart hurt as I started to reminisce about my father.

  “It’s okay…we’re going to get to the bottom of all of this so you could feel better and change how you’re reacting to your father’s abuse.” She handed me a tissue from a beautiful crystal tissue holder.

  “Thank you.” I wept without warning; feeling the sting in my eyes from the burning tears that followed.

  “Now…I don’t want to overwhelm you…so we’re going to take this slowly. What do you remember most about your father?” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees to pay closer attention to me.

  “Do you mean a good memory? Or bad.” I felt I needed to ask. To me, it almost felt like a trick question.

  “Whichever one you’d like to share…How about we start with the good.

  Tell me something good about your father.” She smiled trying to ease me into this conversation. My face grew pale with anxiety.

  “I don’t have any good memories about my father, Dr. Logan.” I was fidgety in my seat. Panic set in, and I felt like I needed to get up and walk around.

  “Oh…I see. Are you sure you don’t have one good memory, Jenesis?” She seemed saddened by my response. I think she wanted me to tell her a lie just so she could move on with the session.

  “No…I’m sorry. I wish there was." I placed my hands on my lap.

  “Do you need to get up? It’s okay…”

  “May I have a glass of water?” I asked as I looked over at the bottle of water that rested on the glass table. What I really wanted was a stiff drink to avoid answering her questions all together.

  “Of course.” She reached for the bottle of water and opened it. She poured it into the crystal glass next to it and handed it to me.

  “Thank you.” I swallowed hurriedly as if I hadn’t drank in days.

  “Jenesis, you need to talk about your father…please…tell me more.” She glanced over at the clock and then looked back at me. I thought maybe she realized we were on the clock and we weren’t getting anywhere with this damn session.

  “My father was a drunk, who was an abusive bastard to my mother. He dominated her life. He hated me, and I think he hated her, too,” I said bravely as I carefully rested the glass back on the table.

  “Why do you think he hated you?” She continued to write notes on her clipboard, her tireless hand scribbling words that only
she could make sense of. She didn’t want to miss a beat, but I didn’t like the questioning for some reason. It hit me in a place that I didn’t want to go to or…admit to.

  “I think I reminded him of someone he didn’t like. He always viewed me as a burden…a problem.” I stared at her deeply as she continued to write on that goddamn clipboard.

  “Who or what do you think you reminded him of?”

  “I don’t know, you’re the expert…you tell me,” I barked at her. I was irritated and looking for a way out of this conversation at that point.

  “I’m sorry…did I offend you in any way?” she stopped writing and glanced up at me, and my eyes met hers. I was angry…really angry, and I didn’t know why. Her puzzled look threw me for a loop and she had no idea what this train wreck was about to say next.

  “Look…I need help…I don’t feel like guessing why my fucking father was a goddamn animal to my mother. Or why he hated me or why he beat the living shit out of her every day since I was born and maybe even before that. I don’t want to think or pretend I know the answers to your

  questions because I don’t. So, if you’re going to help me stop having nightmares and banging my fucking head against the floor every night then, please do. But don’t ask me these asinine questions.

  I just don’t have the patience for it.” She sat up straight in her chair and placed the clipboard on her lap.

  “Jenesis, you’re right…I am the expert. If you give me a chance, I can help you, if not, we can end this session now and you could find someone else to work with you; and I would appreciate that you speak properly in my office and avoid using street language in my presence.” Her expression

  was calm, and she looked up at me with a soft smile. She wasn’t annoyed like I thought she was going to be. She let me have it, but she kept it calm, and she kept it…real.

  “I…I’m sorry.” I busted out into tears as I placed my hands over my face. I cried and cried uncontrollably, even screaming at one point and crying out for my mother. This lasted about ten minutes as she sat next to me and hugged me tightly around my shoulders. I didn’t expect her to

  do that, and I didn’t her hug back. I didn’t expect her to care…but for some reason she went out of her element and…she did. And I was sorry…really sorry.

  “Do you want to see me again, Jenesis?” She tilted her head to the side waiting for my response as I wiped my nose with the tissue I had bunched in my hand from before, trying to contain the screams I so wanted to continue to belt out.

  “Yes…I do.” She stood up and sat on the chair across from me. I watched her as she finished writing her last notes on her clipboard. I sat with my fists clenched on my lap trying to calm down after the storm that invaded my mind and emotions.

  “Jenesis, this has been such a real, painful experience for you. I want you to know that just because you see all of this glitz and glam in this office doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you are going through. No one is perfect and trust me…I’m living proof. Next week?”

  “Yes,” I whimpered as her last sentenced struck a chord in the pit of my belly. What could she have gone through that could be compared to my situation? I’d really like to know.

  “Same day? I don’t do much on Saturdays…so we can change the time if you’d like.” She doesn’t do much on Saturdays. She must be married to a rich guy. Wait…she is the rich guy! She probably doesn’t even have to work.

  “Maybe at two, is that okay?”

  “That’s perfect. I like to wake up on Saturdays late, too. See you then…and if you need me…please don’t hesitate to call the cell phone number on the card.” She stood up and shook my hand then escorted me to the door. She smiled sympathetically and shut the door as I stepped out.

  I walked pass the red-lipped hussy.

  “Another appointment, Miss Heart?” she shouted as I kept walking passed her.

  “Yes. Next Saturday at two.” I stopped and bent down on one knee to tie my shoes.

  “Really? You must be something special. She rarely has appointments on Saturdays. She goes away quite often to the Hamptons.”

  “I don’t think that’s any of my business, and I really don’t think she’ll appreciate you giving me that information, either. She specifically pointed out that you’re just a receptionist. Have a good

  day.” I applauded myself silently and snapped my fingers in my mind like, ‘take that and shut your mouth, bitch!’ It felt good.

  I hailed a cab over to the village. I decided to walk around and needed to get some air. Between working and school, I never really had the chance to browse around the neighborhood. I admired all of the shops that lay nestled in the tiny streets.

  As I walked, I passed the window of a small consignment shop whose window mannequin was missing a head. The mannequin had a peach fitted dress with a coral silk ribbon around its waist. Coral was one of my favorite colors right out of the crayon box. My jet black hair would make that

  dress stand out even more. I was ready to walk in when I was tapped on the shoulder. I turned around to see Carl Sumner, my college professor from John Jay. He taught Brain and Behavior at

  John Jay and at Hunter College. He was one of my favorite professors, really smart. His classes were fun and exciting, far from the boring lecture halls I was used to at Penn State. He was known

  for getting his students involved hands-on by going on outings and visiting behavior clinics, but he was infamous for lurking after pretty, young, attractive students year after year. Carl was tall,

  about 5’11 with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes to match, a very attractive, sexy older man. He was a little older than me, in his early thirties, maybe.

  “Hey, Jenesis, how’s life after graduation?” His sexy grin caught my eye. “Professor Sumner, how are you?” I batted my eyelashes at him.

  “Please, call me Carl. I’m fine. You definitely look fine.” I gave him a flirtatious smile. Suddenly, my cell phone rang.

  “Hi, Dave.”

  “Hey, where are you?” his voice seemed a little desperate.

  “I’m in the village.”

  “What are you doing there? Anyway, I need you to come in earlier today around three. You can leave early, around eight, can you do it?”

  “Dave, its Saturday. I don’t work on Saturdays, remember?”

  “I know, but I thought you could do me the favor. I really need your help with a report. Cassandra called in sick. Where are you, exactly?”

  “Some small consignment shop near Ray’s pizza in the village; I’ve got my eye on a dress that I think I’m going to buy.” As I spoke, I glanced over at Carl whom I caught staring at my ass.

  “Oh yeah, I think I know that place, well, treat yourself, you deserve it. I have some new papers I want you to file, as well. See you later.”

  “I’ll be there. Bye.” I hung up the phone and turned my attention to Carl.

  “It was nice seeing you again.” I turned to walk into the shop. Now I felt rushed because I had to go into work, and I wanted to buy that dress. Carl then gently grabbed me by my arm.

  “Hey, what are you doing tonight? How ‘bout dinner?” his grasp held tightly near my elbow, and I turned to face him.

  “Tonight? You heard me talking to my boss…I have to work."

  “Come on…please?” He slid his hand that was gripped firmly on my arm down to my hand. I couldn’t resist. His baby blues were begging for a chance. He was so damn cute. If anybody needed to go out…it was me. “Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day; my boss is letting me out

  early…Yes.” I wasn’t sure if I made the right decision, but the relief in his face made me relax, and we both smiled at one another.

  “Alright gorgeous…where should we meet?” A slick smirk spread across his face. He took out his cell phone and car keys.

  “In front of John Jay.”

  “How about I pick you up at your apartment?” He moved closer to me, his face close to mine. I inhaled his expensive
cologne, and he smelled delicious, the manly smell I’ve missed since my

  last boyfriend…a long, long time ago. I was at a loss for words, but then I quickly remembered I had to be careful. He was not to be trusted, according to the rumors at the school.

  “No…in front of John Jay is fine. Text me your number, and I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

  “Eight-thirty?”

  “Eight-thirty.” I turned and pushed opened the door to the little shop where I admired the peach dress; I asked to try it on. The woman who got the dress for me was so old. I felt so bad asking her

  to help me. She had her gray hair tied up in a bun and was wearing a gray dress. I wondered if she color coordinated this morning before she left her house.

  “What size, sweetie?” she asked in her old lady shaky voice.

  “A size 8, please.”

  “Here you go darling; the fitting room is over there.”

  She handed me the dress and unlocked the fitting room door. She motioned with her hand for me to enter. I hung up the dress on the hook, and then I slid my tank top over my head and then pushed down my sweatpants down my thighs then to my feet. I adjusted my bra to make my perky breasts

  pop out a little more. I slipped on the dress over my head and stared at myself in the mirror. The dress was perfect, and it fit me flawlessly. It was fitted nicely at my waist, and the coral ribbon

  was wrapped tightly around me. It was just below my knees, and it flowed loosely swaying back and forth. The silky sweet heart style dress accentuated my breasts, making them look full and

  luscious. I looked so much like my mother…it was eerie. I had long, jet-black hair that passed my shoulders reaching down to the middle of my back right above my bottom. I was 5’4 with a nice

  curvy frame. My skin was creamy white with a tinge of bronze. I always tanned to perfection during the summer and I hardly ever wore sunscreen. My eyes were big and slightly slanted, like

  a cat, with a mixture of light brown and light green…more hazel than anything. In the sun you could see a spot of blue in my left eye. The peach dress complimented me in every way.