The Carrero Heart_Beginning_Arrick and Sophie

by L. T. Marshall

  ‘Sophie?’ My mom stops in complete shock, taking me in, while my dad stands in wide mouthed silence. That stomach lurching moment when your parents discover you have a piercing somewhere on your face, like Leila once did, or that time they spotted my tribal tattoo on the base of my spine, the one Arrick took me for at seventeen, and went absolutely ape shit over it.

  ‘Hey… Ummmm, do you like it?’ I flick the edge of my hair up cutely. Chewing nervously on my lip, as my mom seems to trace her eyes down the entire outfit. Silently, losing all external expression,

  ‘It’s certainly different honey.’ She smiles brightly.

  ‘Your dress is gorgeous and well, it may take a bit of getting used to, but your hair is rather nice too. Don’t you think?’ She nudges my dad, who is still staring silently. His eyes glaze over, that tense jaw, silent broody look of disapproval and he turns and walks off muttering under his breath, ‘Not my Soph’s’, in a moody manner without a backwards glance.

  ‘Ignore him, you know he finds any signs of you lot growing up hard to handle. He’ll get used to it.’ My mom comes around the table and places a delicate kiss on my cheek, soothing over the hurt caused by dads reaction.

  ‘I really like your makeup, does so much more for you than the three inches of ‘Smokey’ eyes you were fonder of, this is so minimal, yet stunning. She brushes a hand over my cheekbone, brushing back my silky new hair and revealing my liner and red lips. Nothing much else is going on except a bit of highlight and blush. Understated glamour.

  ‘I made a new friend.’ I cut in, trying to redirect her attention and ignore the utter disappointment still reeling inside. I know it’s stupid, to always get like this when they disapprove of something that matters to me, I can’t help it.

  ‘You did? Anyone we know?’ Mom moves with the paper bags to the fridge and unloads the delicatessen boxes she has come home with. As much as we have cooks and cleaners, and moms not against the odd cooking splurge, she prefers health food takeaway for convenience. She has a weakness for the cous cous concoctions of her favourite organic food store.

  ‘She’s new to town, their family are called Walters. They’re English. Camilla Walters.’ I watch my mother fetch a glass of water and ice, before returning to me, still looking thoughtful and nonplussed.

  ‘Can’t say it rings a bell, but if their new, then maybe we just haven’t run into them yet.’ She smiles softly then moves off from the table in pursuit of her husband. A stroke of my hair as she passes me by gently.

  ‘I do like it Sophie, just a bit of a shock to find our little blonde honey is now some slinky dark lady, right before our eyes.’ I smile at her, but it doesn’t really ring true, still mulling over the fact dad pretty much dismissed it and walked off without a single word to me.

  ‘Oh, before I forget… Arrick left you about ten messages today. Please call that boy, something must be wrong with your cell and he sounded so frantic. He never leaves messages, so it must be urgent.’ My mom smiles innocently and walks off down the hall leaving me to sag into the table. That inner control and poise, collapsing under the weight of his name.

  Last thing I need is to know he is still trying to get hold of me, it only makes me angry that he is refusing to respect my wishes. He has no idea how much this is killing me, to try and separate him from my life, and he is only making this worse by holding on. Just when I think I am doing okay, he sweeps in somehow, and it all comes crashing down around me again in a torrent of pain and ache.

  Pulling my phone from my bag stubbornly, intent on ending this if it kills me, I swipe to my block list, locate his name and press unblock. I immediately follow it with call, before I lose my nerve or change my mind. I sit back, nerves pounding through my chest and heart rate erratic, but I must stop this once and for all.

  He answers after two short rings and I have to control the stab of pain that his voice gives me.

  ‘Sophie?’

  I pull myself together and sit up straighter. Taking a long deep breath to steady my nerves and centre myself, so that I sound calm and mature. My stomach twists and my hands begin to shake.

  ‘You need to stop calling me.’ I say forcefully. Trying to keep all traces of weakness or warmth out of my voice.

  ‘You can’t hit me with a love confession, then cut me off, Sophie. I told you we needed to talk about this.’ He sounds strained, so unlike his normal cool self and the noise in the background suggests he is at Carrero Corp, the hustle bustle of office noises and the reason he is keeping his tone down. He must be in either his office with his PA nearby, or out at Jake’s, maybe even on the main office floor, by the sounds of it.

  ‘Yes, I can, because I need too, and nothing can fix this except space. What is talking going to do Arry? Huh? Are you going to suddenly not love Natasha anymore and ask me to settle down and be your girlfriend?’ It comes out nastily, hurt moving in and I scold myself for sounding so pathetic. Hate myself for lashing out at him, when really, he’s done absolutely nothing wrong at all.

  ‘Sophie, I can’t just stop giving a shit about you like that. It’s not that easy. This whole thing is killing me, I don’t know what else to do but talk to you about this. Your head is not the only one which has been fucked up by this.’ He sounds ravaged, I know Arrick better than most , I am one of the few people he openly gets emotional in front of, and this is so not him to be like this when surrounded by people. I hate that this is hurting him as much as it’s hurting me, but I have to be stronger, I have to do what is right for me.

  ‘There’s nothing you can say. Just leave me be and let me move on Arrick. I’m begging you. Stop calling me, stop texting and just leave me alone. Let me just get over you and get some sanity back. Maybe after that we can see one another… But not until then.’ A knot of emotion hits me hard in the throat, threatening to choke me, but I have to stay tough on this, I have to make this clear.

  ‘I can’t do that… What if you need me? What if I need you?’ He sounds desperate, his voice straining and his calm demeanour going completely to hell.

  ‘You never needed me Arrick, and I need to learn to stop needing you. I won’t be going back down that route of self-destruction and booze, so you can be happy in the knowledge that I’m sorting my shit out. I am trying to be a better person, for me, and I am trying to just find a way to get on in life. I can’t do that if you keep pulling me back to you. If you care about me, like you say you do, then let me go. Let me do this on my own.’ My voice wobbles and breaks, signs that I’m not as strong as I want to be, and saying his to him is ripping me apart.

  ‘Sophie please. Just meet me, let us talk about this. Don’t do this to me.’ There is a long pause while I compose myself, letting my breath steady as I push my tears back down deep.

  ‘I made up my mind. Now respect my decision to be a grown up about this. Don’t call me anymore Arry, don’t leave me messages. I love you…… But I need to just let you go.’ I pull the phone from my ear before he can respond and hang up, quickly swiping to re-block his number before he has time to call me back.

  My hands are shaking and I feel sick to my stomach, tears caught behind my eyes and a heart in complete agony. This is the single hardest thing I have ever done, and I am already doubting my decision. I swallow down the emotions bitterly, willing myself not to cry, but I can still hear his voice in my head, still reeling from hearing him again, and when the tears drop from my chin I know that fighting it is futile. I open my heart and sob another flood of pain away.

  Chapter 12

  This bar is upper class and elegant, not like the clubs I frequented in the city and Camilla had been very strict about which outfit I put on for our evening. I am in a fitted cocktail dress, black with subtle beading, hair freshly straightened and sleek, and killer black stilettos to finish it all off; I look more like a girl in her mid-twenties than the baby face of this morning and the whole outfit makes me look taller and somehow womanlier. I feel more in control, less road kill of a girl, and this new confidence f
rom my hair and clothes is helping me relax.

  Camila is already working the room with champagne in hand, and dragging me along behind her like a pet puppy. I feel completely out of my depths in this scene, despite having a family that peruses these kinds of places a lot. I had often been too young to go anywhere like this, or chose not to, and I am doing my utmost best to act like I am relaxed and casual about being here.

  ‘Sophie this is Malcolm, he’s a banker and a lush bit in the sack.’ Camilla giggles, leaning in and whispering something provocative in the young man’s ear before pulling back and running a finger down his tie. Mostly all the men in here are wearing expensive suits and good tailoring, and everyone reeks of money. Surprisingly Camilla seems well known and I sort of smile shyly at him.

  ‘Well hello Sophie, a pleasure.’ Malcolm is tall and blonde, but not overly handsome, he extends a hand to me, kissing the back of mine when I connect to shake it. I feel uncomfortable immediately, something off in this whole scene, but then I have never really been used to his class of party. I have avoided most charity events my family attends, and prefer New York’s more urban night life to social niceties by the upper crust. Malcolm just gives me the creep vibes because, well let’s face it… He’s male, and pretty much most men do that to me.

  ‘Hi.’ I smile briefly, pulling my glass in front of me to fold my arms across my bust; his eyes rest on the hint of cleavage I have on show. This isn’t an overly revealing dress, but gives enough hints to be sexy, and despite dressing like a ‘cheap hooker’ in the past, according to Arrick. I feel more uncomfortable right now, with Malcolm’s eyes trained on what little skin I am showing. Camilla knows how to dress for a reaction, and I am seeing the result up close.

  I have been on a downer ever since I called Arrick this afternoon, ended in tears while taking a shower to get ready and spent a long-time mulling everything over in front of my vanity when applying my makeup. I had hoped coming out would make me feel better, but I just feel dead inside. Somehow, telling him to never call me again, seems more final than just dodging his calls. I really am severing my connection to him, and it is killing me inside, I just feel like a half of a person.

  ‘Sophie, do you like to party?’ Malcolm moves in closer, leaning into me as Camilla slides by him to talk to another man, behind him in the crowded bar and effectively leaving me alone. I have zero interest in Malcolm, he isn’t even that charming and I want to just move on out of here and go eat, like she said we would. So far, we haven’t made it from the bar of this place, which seems to be an actual hotel and not a restaurant at all.

  ‘I used too, I guess, I’m trying to tone it down nowadays.’ I try to manoeuvre myself a little space, but he just leans in further so I can feel his breath down the front of my dress.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame, Camilla throws some killer parties, and would love to see you on the girl list.’ He smiles in my face, booze hitting me hard and I try not to visibly gag at the reek.

  ‘What do you mean girl list?’ I frown, raising my voice to be heard over the crowd as Camilla seems to cut back in.

  ‘Come on now you two, no one seems to be getting drunk!’ Camilla pushes herself between us, turning to catch the bottom of my glass and push it up against my mouth.

  ‘Down, down, down.’ She chants with a smile, forcing me to gulp down most of the glass in one go. I cough with the effort and feel the liquid running back down my nose due to the rapid intake, and almost cough violently as I try to sniff it away painfully, screwing up my face with the effort. Camilla grabs my glass and immediately thrusts another in its place.

  ‘No, really, I’m trying to…’ I protest, but Camilla is trying to force another in the same way.

  ‘You need to loosen up babes, you’re stiffer than a board and we need to let our hair down. I’m not trying to get you smashed, just merry drunk, so you can chill out and have a little fun. Trust me, I’ll take good care of you Sophieboo.’ Camilla raises an expectant eyebrow my way, smiling widely as I eye her warily. My head is telling me to relax and trust her, but my gut is telling me to get out of here, and just go home. I know this is probably the last place I should be tonight, while trying to prove to my family that they can trust me. It really is the last place I actually want to be right now.

  I place the new glass to my lips, vowing I will only have a couple and then cradle anymore she tries to pour down my throat, I don’t want to go home in the same mess I became in New York. I am beyond all that, and know that alcohol will only blur everything. I want to stay level headed.

  * * *

  I throw up in the bushes to the side of the garden, holding my head as I sway around, shoes in hand and bag dangling down at ankle level. I feel like crap; tired and recounting how many drinks I had and again gawp that I can feel this way on a minimal amount. It hasn’t been that long since I have been a seasoned drinker, so there was no way my tolerance has waned this badly. I only drunk three, maybe four glasses at most, yet I was in the state of maybe ten or more. Everything is spinning weirdly and it doesn’t feel like normal drunk at all. Normal drunk doesn’t give me this weird dry throat and painful ache in my stomach that has made me throw up twice.

  I stagger up to my front door on unsteady legs, the sound of the departing cab still echoing in the distance and alerting me to the fact it is easily late in the morning, around four am or more. I have no idea what my mom is going to say. I am completely disappointed in myself. And to make it worse, being drunk just made me crave to speak to Arrick again, my head filling with reasons I should call him and finding my reasons not too, are pathetic in comparison. This is the last thing I needed to do to myself.

  I stumble into the hall when I get the door open, trying so hard to be quiet and catch sight of myself in the hall mirror. My hair is flyaway, dress hanging off one shoulder where that prick Malcom tore it and my lipstick smeared where he forced his tongue down my throat, when I was semi-conscious on a booth chair. I came too in a quiet corner of the hotel, in semi dark shadows to find him trying to get my clothes off, pushed his groping hands and grinding body off in disgust and the asshole had called me a ‘cock tease’. He actually had the nerve to try and hold me down, try and force his tongue in my mouth while his knees prised my legs apart, and I fought back and caused a hell of a scene.

  Camilla just laughed at first, until I made enough noise and chaos to bring the attention of other drunken stragglers, and then she got snippy, dumping me in a taxi and telling me next time to lay off the booze if I couldn’t handle it. She seemed majorly pissed, unconcerned that Malcolm managed to rip my dress and unhook my bra, and I found that my lace panties were around my upper thighs and half way off.

  I feel dirty and vile, wiping the back of my hand across the smeared mess in a bid to remove it with utter disgust. My head is a mess of drunken, emotional anger, hoping to god that creep didn’t violate me in anyway while I was out cold and wondering again, how the hell I got so wasted on such a little amount of booze. Camilla could go fuck herself. So much for taking care of me, she seemed completely sober and sat gyrating on some loser’s lap, watching us the whole time, while getting off with his hand up her fucking skirt.

  Climbing the stair quietly, I sneak into my bedroom, the sudden urge to strip off this restricting dress and scrub myself clean overwhelms me. Tonight, I behaved exactly like I have always done, getting trashed while some sleazy man, made moves on me. Only this time Arrick wasn’t at the other end of the phone to be pissed at me, or come to take me home with him; nothing had changed. I was still an idiot, acting out and bringing heartache to those around me.

  I walk into my en-suite bathroom, turn on the shower and climb in as soon as I strip down, wiping the mess of makeup from my face as hot water pours over me; removing the smells and feeling of that creep from all over. The smell of his aftershave on me makes me wretch and I can’t get his slimy face out of my head. Waking up to that perverted fuck on top of me had been almost like a flashback to hell. I feel the nausea r
ise and cannot stop the vomit hitting the floor of my shower cubicle.

  I slump down on the shower away from the mess I made, as water rinses it away, tears over taking me, water washing away all my indiscretions, but my heart is raw and open as it has been for months. This isn’t a new Sophie, this is same old Sophie with a new wardrobe and a new hangout, and I will be damned if I go down this route again. All tonight has done is made me realise that I don’t want to go back to this, don’t want to be this girl anymore.

  Finally, I climb into bed with damp hair, holding the short strands up above my face as I scrutinised it, wondering what Arrick would say if he saw me now. I miss him, despite everything, and knowing how much worse it will be for me if I call him. I just want to hear his voice. I just want to feel like he’s still there, that even with shit like tonight, he would have still come for me. I need him more than anything right now, to just make me feel better, to feel safe from perverted assholes always trying to get something I don’t want to give.

  I roll over on my side, pulling Princess Snuggles and snuggling up to her. She was a present from him, a long time ago, one of the few things I could not part with, and about as close to him as I can get right now. My head is a mess and I have only pushed myself back to square one. This was everything I told myself I was going to change, everything that I have come to despise about myself since being back here. Tomorrow I will start over, get back on track and cut that Camilla bitch out of my life and my phone.

  * * *

  I sit at breakfast with a gurgling stomach and pounding head, after forcing myself to get up, despite getting in so late, and I am trying to appear normal for the sake of my parents. My mother eyes me warily, but as of yet hasn’t said much as I pick at my granola, trying to keep it down.