Different Roads

by Lori L. Clark

  The color instantly drained from my face and I tried several times to swallow down the grapefruit-sized lump wedged at the back of my throat. “You’re taking me to Seth’s wedding reception?” I asked, my voice raising a couple octaves higher than normal.

  “What’s the matter baby?” he asked with syrupy, sweet fake concern in his voice. “Don’t you want one last dance for old time sake? Give him your blessing and all? Oh I know, maybe you can give the new bride some pointers on how to keep her man happy. No wait. On second thought, that didn’t work out so good for you, did it?” He tipped his head back and laughed at his own twisted sense of humor.

  I clamped my lips into a thin line of silence; no way would I give him the satisfaction of knowing that I’d rather glue my eyelashes together than be within five-hundred miles of Seth’s wedding reception. Damon obviously got a kick out of knowing this would be the worst possible night of my life. I was determined to do everything within my power not to let him see just how much it hurt. If you can pull that off Jaq, it will be an Oscar-worthy performance.

  Damon latched on to my hand possessively as soon as we walked into the reception hall, he leaned in close and breathed, “Stick close baby. I don’t want you to run off with the new groom.”

  I tensed and fought the urge to smash a chair across his pearly whites, “Wouldn’t think of it baby,” I muttered.

  We stood at the edge of the dance floor while people ran forward waving dollar bills in their hands for the infamous dollar dance. Damon slapped a dollar bill into my hand. I narrowed my eyes and shot him a hateful glower. “Awe, why you gotta be that way Jaq? Why don’t you go rub up against the groom, remind him what he’s missing out on now that he’s a married man,” Damon patted me on the butt and nudged me toward the line that was already forming to dance with Seth.

  Make it look convincing, Jaq, I thought. I painted on a plastic smile to try and hide the shitload of emotions that were stirring inside of me. I knew as soon as his hands connected with mine and our eyes locked, I would be lucky not to pass out, or puke, or both. I was capable of a lot of things, but to convince everyone who watched that my dancing with the groom was nothing more than a dollar dance that meant nothing to me, would be a bigger miracle than the second coming.

  The song changed right as I reached the front of the line. Seth looked up, seeking out his next dance partner. Imagine his shock when saw me standing there. For a split-second, I thought I saw something flash in his blue eyes. Regret maybe?

  “Jaq? How are you?” he asked quietly.

  Fantastic? So happy to be here? Couldn’t be happier for you and the new Mrs.? Thanks so much for ripping my heart out of my chest and stomping on it? I thought, but said, “I’ve been better, but thanks for asking.”

  He pulled me closer than was strictly necessary. I melted a little inside as I breathed in his familiar musky scent. I swore I felt his chest pounding through the layers of clothing between us. I only hoped he wasn’t able to feel mine as well. He leaned back and searched my eyes while I tried to look everywhere but his face.

  “I’m a little surprised to see you here,” he said softly against hair.

  “That makes two of us,” I admitted.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you Jaq,” he said and I heard his voice crack a little. He took a deep breath, “You deserve to be happy. I don’t think I could have given you that. You are happy, right?”

  I blinked a few times and nodded before getting brave enough to ask him the same thing, “What about you Seth? Are you happy?”

  He looked somewhere over my head, as though the answer was written just out of grasp. He kissed the side of my face, “For now.”

  For now?What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I wanted to scream. But it was too late. Our dance was over. The next girl in line cut in for her dance with the groom. I held my head up high, determined he would not know how much I was dying inside. I put on a wide smile and made my way to the nearest bathroom so I could throw up.

  As soon as was sequestered in the bathroom stall, I leaned my back against the cold metal door and stared up at the ceiling tiles. I tried to clear the confusion from my brain by counting to one-hundred. My hands squeezed into fists of rage and I wanted to scream my lungs out. It was all I could do to refrain from having a full-blown meltdown. My body was wracked with sobs and the tears would not stop coming.

  I’m not sure how long I stood there before I felt some semblance of sanity return. I took a few deep, calming breaths and stepped out of the tiny stall. When I looked into the mirror I resembled Alice Cooper with the way my makeup was streaked all around my eyes. I splashed some water on my face and tried as best as I could to make it look like I hadn’t just lost my sanity inside a three by six filthy bathroom stall.

  Afterwards, I found Damon leaning against the bar; his jaw was clenched when I walked up beside him and ordered a shot of Cuervo with a slice of lime. “Enjoy your dance with Romeo?” Damon sneered.

  “Yeah, my night’s complete,” I said right before I tipped my head back and downed the shot. “Can we go now?”

  He motioned for the bartender to bring us two more shots, “Nah, the night’s just getting started,” he muttered. “What’s your hurry?”

  Chapter 31

  Over the rest of the summer, I began to make up excuses so I didn’t have to spend all my free time with Damon, or I would try to think up ways for us to be around other people whenever we were together. Each time he yanked my hair or jabbed a fist into my ribs or kicked me in my back, I swore it would be the last time.

  Anyone who’s ever been in an abusive relationship knows that it’s not always as simple as just walking away. Damon was a form of crack, and with my addictive personality, it wasn’t as easy as telling him I didn’t want to see him anymore.

  One afternoon, I was getting ready to head out to a hog roast to celebrate — or mourn — the end of summer. I stepped out of the shower and was in the process of winding a towel around my hair when Shelley shrieked at me, “What the hell happened to your back?” She startled me so bad that a scream slipped from my mouth. I was constantly on edge lately, and she’d scared the shit out of me. I knew that she had caught a glimpse of the large bruises over my kidneys.

  I turned from her and felt my face heat up while I groped for some plausible sounding excuse to give her, “I banged against the kitchen counter the other night when I came home drunk. It’s nothing,” I lied and quickly turned away from her scrutinizing eyes.

  Shelley latched on to my wrist with an unrelenting grip, “Don’t you dare try to feed me a line of bullshit like that Jacqueline Carter!” she snapped.

  I wrenched my hand free and glared at her, “I told you what happened. Now drop it,” I measured my words carefully, trying to make it clear that as far as I was concerned, this discussion was over.

  Her eyes narrowed into slits and she tipped her head while she thought about what she wanted to say. Finally, she planted her fists on her hips and said, “Of course. You’re telling the truth. You know how I know you’re telling me the truth?” Before I could open my mouth to respond she rattled on: “Because my friend Jaq would never let anybody lay a hand on her. Not even once.” With that, she swung around and stomped out of the room.

  Once we got to the hog roast later, Shelley glued herself to my side and told the guys to go do whatever it was that guys did and that she wanted to spend some time alone with me. I honestly didn’t mind. It was kind of like old times. Back before Brad got killed and back when I still thought Damon was the sexiest guy I’d ever seen. It was uncomplicated back then, when I still knew of Seth as the Wild Turkey guy who wore boxers.

  Shelley hopped up onto the tailgate of a pickup parked strategically between the fire and the kegs and patted the cold steel beside her, “Sit,” she ordered. I scooted up next to her, and she produced a flask. She unscrewed the lid, took a big swig, made a god-awful face, wiped her mouth and said, “God I hate the taste of tequila,” before passing the silver f
lask my way.

  “Nectar of the God’s,” I grinned before downing a big gulp.

  She giggled and slapped me on the back, “I’ve missed this.”

  “Me too,” I admitted.

  A few more swigs of the booze later, Shelley turned to me, suddenly serious. “How long has he been doing this to you Jaq?” she whispered.

  I stared down at my feet and shrugged, “A little while, I guess. This one’s not that bad.”

  Her mouth dropped open, “You mean there’ve been worse?”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, “He cracked three of my ribs once,” I said with no more emotion than if he’d just tickled me until I pissed myself.

  “And you’re still with him? Why?” She asked. I didn’t answer right away because honestly, I didn’t know why I was still with him. Nothing sounded even remotely logical. “No more. You are so done with that crazy fuck. I mean it, Jaq. This ends tonight.”

  I blinked a few times to keep from crying, “It’s not that easy,” I admitted weakly.

  She threw her arm over my shoulders and pulled me into a one-armed hug, “Love you Jaq,” she said and kissed me on top the head. “You deserve so much better than this.”

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, “How do you know?”

  She drew back and gave me a puzzled look, “How do I know what?”

  “Seriously. What if by some great design plan, this really is all I deserve?” I took an unsteady breath and continued, “What if I drew the cosmic short-straw, and this is as good as it gets?”

  Shelley’s eyebrows drew together, “That’s just some psycho-babble bullshit and you know it. Nobody deserves to become a punching bag from some crazy fucking coward who’s too afraid to pick on someone his own size.”

  I wrapped my arms around her neck and gave her a big squeeze. I closed my eyes and let the unwelcome tears slide down my cheeks. We sat like that for a few minutes when a warm, familiar voice asked, “What’s a guy got to do to be part of this sandwich?”

  Shelley and I jumped apart and started laughing. I smiled up into, what were still, the most gorgeous blue eyes ever, “Hey Seth,” I managed to say.

  He narrowed his eyes when he saw my face. He brushed his thumb slowly across my cheek, “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine, really,” I told him.

  Shelley hopped down from the tailgate, “I’m going to go get a beer,” she glanced at the imaginary watch on her wrist, and her gaze darted between Seth and me. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  He laughed and shook his head, “Still the same ol’ Shelley.”

  “You have no idea,” I said with a grin.

  “Hey where’s my hug?” he ducked his head, and his blue eyes peeked out from the bill of his cap. He opened his arms, and call me crazy, but I fell right into them.

  Being wrapped up in his arms brought back a flood of memories and I let them wash over me while we stood. My inner slut was screaming at me to do him one last time for fun and my inner saint was tugging me in a completely different direction. Just as my inner personas were about to duke it out inside my head, I heard Seth whisper, “Oh fuck,” and he pulled away from me.

  I yelped as a burning pain shot through my scalp and my head quickly snapped backwards. Damon had latched onto my hair and was dragging me away. “You stupid fucking bitch. I turn my head for two minutes and you’re off trying to hook up with your ex,” he spun me around so we were face to face. His eyes were filled with the terrifying rage I’d become so used to seeing. He pulled back his hand and punched me in the jaw. My vision narrowed, and whoever coined the phrase of seeing stars, got it right. My head connected with something sharp and jagged on the ground, and my eyes grew wide as Damon drew back his leg to kick me.

  That kick never happened. He never got the chance.

  The pain in my head was excruciating and I felt like it was inside a metal bucket, the blood whooshed inside my ears and darkness quickly moved in to snatch away my vision. I was out like a snuffed candle flame.

  When I came to, Tim had carried me over and sat me down in the back seat of Shelley’s car. My head was bleeding, Shelley was screaming like a lunatic, and Seth’s knuckles were minus several layers of skin. My eyes darted frantically around for Damon, and I don’t know if I was worried that he was coming to hurt me some more or scared that he wasn’t.

  “Hold this on the back of your head to try and slow down the bleeding while we get you to Urgent Care for some stitches,” Tim ordered.

  I nodded, “Wh-where’s Damon?”

  Shelley patted my hand, “Seth took care of that sonofabitch. He’s never going to hurt you again Jaq.”

  My blood ran cold and I swallowed a few times, “Is he dead?”

  Tim turned and looked over the seat at me, “No, he’s alive. Unfortunately.”

  Chapter 32

  “How’s the head?” Shelley asked as she leaned against the door frame.

  I wrinkled my nose and reached up to run my fingers gently over the staples they’d used to close the nasty gash at the back of my head, “Give me a good old fashioned hangover any day,” I muttered, trying to downplay the whole previous night’s drama.

  Shelley crossed the floor and sat down on the edge of my bed, “Damon’s called your cell about a hundred times already this morning,” she breathed with a detectable strain of irritation coloring her words.

  “Shocker,” I groaned.

  She nodded, “I was going to answer it the next time and tell him to fuck himself.”

  I flaked off some of the dried blood from beneath my fingernails onto the comforter, “I kind of thought he would just go away after last night.”

  “Yeah, you see, that’s just it. I don’t think Damon’s real big on taking hints,” Shelley said. She leaned in close to inspect the hair matted against the back of my head. “So the next time he calls? You need to tell him that if he so much as even drives down this street, you’re going to file a restraining order against his ass.”

  I winced as she lightly touched the wound, and she jerked back as though she’d been scalded. I whispered, “I need to let him know we’re through, that I don’t want to see him anymore.”

  Shelley’s eyes narrowed and she folded her arms in front of her, “Ya think?”

  “I should tell him face to face. I owe him that much,” I said.

  “Excuse me? Tell me again why you think you owe that piece of no good dog shit anything but a baseball bat upside the head?” Shelley said through clenched teeth. “Listen to me Jaq: You owe him nothing.”

  “He’s not really a bad guy. Not all the time. He just loses his temper sometimes when I fuck up,” I shrugged. “If I wouldn’t have been talking to Seth last night, he never would have lost it like he did.”

  Shelley let out a frustrated growl and pushed to her feet. She turned an icy glare on me and pointed, “You listen to me, and you listen good. Because I am only going to say this one time,” she paused to make sure she had my undivided attention. “You are not to blame for what he did to you last night or what he’s done to you in the past. This is not your fault Jaq.”

  Counting the cracks in the ceiling plaster to avoid her piercing eyes, “Okay,” I said without much conviction.

  “Damon Blackwell is lower than the bottom feeding carp in the Mississippi River and you need to stay the hell away from him. You are not his, or anyone else’s punching bag,” she cupped my chin in her hand, forcing me to make eye contact with her. “Promise me you’ll stay away from him? Because to be honest with you I don’t know what I might do to that prick if I ever see him again.”

  I blinked back the tears stinging the back of my eyes and bit my lower lip, “Okay.”

  “Okay what?” Shelley prodded.

  “Okay, I promise to stay away from him,” I vowed.

  A muffled Love Bites (Damon’s ringtone) sounded from Shelley’s pocket. “Speak of the devil,” she thrust the phone in my
face. “This is your chance to tell him.”

  I gave her an ugly look and grabbed for my phone, “Yeah?” I snapped.

  “Baby?” Damon’s familiar suck-up voice crooned. “Baby, I’m sorry. I just lost it when I saw you talking to Seth last night. You know I didn’t mean it Jaq. I swear I’ll never lay another hand on you again. I love you baby,” he paused. I assumed he was waiting for me to tell him it was okay. That we were okay. When I didn’t say anything, he continued: “I know I’m a fuck up Jaq. Just give me one more chance. Please?”

  He was sobbing and unshed tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks. I glanced at Shelley and the stony look on her face gave me the strength I needed to finally speak. “Damon? Don’t call me again. It’s over. We’re through. No more. Got it?”

  “But Jaq…” he started. My face crumpled and Shelley snatched the phone from my shaking hand.

  “Blackwell? This conversation is over. You and Jaq? Over. You come near her again and she’s going to file a restraining order on your ass. Do I make myself clear?” Shelley carefully enunciated each word, as though speaking to a small child. “Goodbye asshat.”

  She ended the call and threw the phone onto the bed beside me. “You need to block his number,” she ordered. She recognized the look of dejection on my face and said, “Jaq, I know it’s hard right now, but it’ll get easier. You just have to avoid him and anything or any place that’s even remotely connected to Damon Blackwell. That way, you’ll be able to see him through more objective eyes. Right?”

  I nodded, “Right.”

  She held out her hand, “Come on. Let me wash your hair for you. Then we’ll go eat a gallon or so of ice cream. Ice Cream is the miracle cure that always helps to put everything into perspective.”

  “Is it okay if I get it wet?” I asked and pointed to the back of my head.

  “Probably not. But we’ll be careful,” she sighed, squeezing my hand.