The Everlasting Chapel

by Marilyn Cruise

  Sitting out in the hallway next to the hospital’s entrance waiting for Michael, I see Spencer approaching me. He sits down next to me.

  “Do you need a ride anywhere?” he asks.

  “No thank you. Michael is coming.” I turn toward him. “Is she really going to be alright?” My voice is trembling.

  “Dr. Kent thinks so. But she’ll need a skilled counselor and a good friend to help deal with the aftermath. Being attacked like she was, she’s going to suffer a lot of emotional trauma. She could have night terrors, suffer from depression, or anxiety attacks, among other things. The more support she has, the quicker she’ll find her center again.”

  I nod. “But she’ll have to deal with it for the rest of her life. It’s just so unfair.” I try not to start crying, but it’s useless, and when I feel the tears coming, I bend forward and press my palms to my face.

  Spencer gently strokes my back. “It is completely unfair. I wish there was something I could say to make it better.”

  “I’ll take it from here.”

  I lift my head, and see Michael standing in front of me. Spencer and I rise to our feet at the same time, and I throw my arms around Michael’s neck, sobbing into his chest.

  “I would appreciate it if you kept your distance,” Michael says to Spencer, his body rigid like a board, as he pulls me closer.

  Outraged by his possessive behavior, I pull away. “I don’t need this right now, Michael. He was just comforting me because my best friend was nearly murdered last night, and he wanted to assure me she was going to be okay.”

  Michael’s upper lip curls.

  “I’ll see you later, Scarlett,” Spencer says.

  “Will you call me if something happens?” I ask.

  “Of course.” Spencer smiles.

  I give him a nod, and watch him as he leaves. Michael and I walk in silence to his car, and once we arrive, he opens the door for me.

  When he gets in on his side, I can’t keep quiet anymore. “You know, Spencer’s a friend of mine, and I’d appreciate it if you would respect that.”

  “What am I supposed to say when he has his hands all over you?” he snaps.

  “It wasn’t like that at all, and you know it!” I say. “Shit, Michael, I don’t need this right now. Can’t you just see past your own insecurities and think of what I need for once?”

  “I’m not going to let him creep his way back in and take advantage of you just because you’re vulnerable right now,” he says.

  I feel my heart beating in my head, I’m so mad. “He’s not trying to do that!”

  “Any guy would try to do that after they’d been with you, Scar,” he says.

  “Just because you would do that, doesn’t mean he would.” Suddenly, something inside of me snaps. “That’s it! I’m taking the bus home.” I open the car door, and get out.

  “Scarlett…” He gets out too and follows after me as I dash down the parking garage. Running beside me, he says, “Please don’t do this. Just let me take you home, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

  I stop, and face him. “I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want you to accept that I have friends of the opposite sex. I want you to trust me that I only want you!” I shout.

  “If you expect me to be all chummy with—”

  “I don’t expect you to even like the guy, just be fucking civil!” I yell.

  He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. When he opens his eyes, I see how conflicted they are, and for a split second I suddenly panic, afraid he’s going to tell me it’s either Spencer or him.

  “Okay,” he says. “I promise I won’t bring it up again. And when I meet him, I’ll be…civil.”

  At first I’m speechless.

  “I don’t want this to cause a rift between us. And you’re right. It is selfish of me.”

  “Okay,” I say, slightly baffled he agreed to it, but still upset he throws this kind of shit at me when Anne’s in the hospital.

  “Can I please drive you home now?” he asks, his voice tender.

  I step toward him as my anger simmers down. Taking his hand, I interlace my fingers between his.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”

  His eyebrows gather in the center. “It’s just when he touches you…when I think about him touching you…”

  I gaze into his eyes, and peering deep into them, it’s as if I can see to the very bottom of his soul. I see a man who needs me just as much as I need him, and a man who will do whatever he can to hold onto me.

  “I don’t want to lose you again,” he says.

  Is it really true that he is afraid of losing me? I press a hand to his cheek and look into his worried eyes. “And you won’t.”

  He dips his head down and catches my lips with his, kissing me lightly, the silky smooth and wet sensation causing me to melt into him and forget all the anger.

  14

  When I get inside, Vivian is up making breakfast.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  “Good morning to you, Scarlett. How is your friend?” Her expression turns from pleasant to concerned.

  “She…” I clear my throat and will the tears down. “She’s in really bad shape, but the doctors are saying she’ll make a complete recovery.”

  Vivian rests her hand on my shoulder and gives me a sympathetic look. “That’s good to hear. I hope she recovers quickly indeed.” She huffs. “Your father is very tired today. You might want to go see him. It would brighten his day.”

  I haven’t had as much time for him as I would have liked. I head upstairs and go into his bedroom. The curtains are drawn shut, making the room a dim, lifeless prison, and the news is on the TV.

  Although my father’s eyes light up when he sees me, I can tell by the way he slowly moves his body that he’s tired. I sit down on his bed.

  “How’s Anne?” he asks.

  Tearfully, I tell him as much as I know. He tells me there was a story about her on the news, saying it happened outside of where she worked at a local gentlemen’s club. Immediately, my heart is in my throat. I never told my father where Anne worked or that we worked together, and he doesn’t say anything, but the way he said it makes me think he’s waiting for me to volunteer information, which I’m not going to. Where Anne works is none of his business.

  “Anne is such a sweet girl. I never realized she had such an…unbecoming profession,” he finally says.

  “She did it because she had no other way to pay her bills. She never completed or even attended college, and as you know, her parents disowned her because they believed her to be an immoral slut,” I say bitterly.

  “It’s a shame she turned out to be what they labeled her as.”

  “She’s not a slut!” I yell, suddenly feeling extremely protective of her.

  “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. If she only would have had supportive parents who saw her potential, she might not have been…as inclined to take such a lowly job.”

  “She did it to pay the bills, not because her parents didn’t believe in her.” I realize I’m speaking more of myself than her. Anne’s reasons were similar to mine—she needed to make money.

  “If you worked in such a place, I would have been completely devastated,” he says.

  And there it is: his honest to God opinion. I already figured he’d say that, but hearing the heaviness in his voice—the utter despair—when he says it, I know I’ll never be able to tell him the truth. It might send him to his grave. Not wanting to dwell on the subject, I ask him, “How are your chemotherapy treatments going?”

  “Better than expected. When my mother went through them, I remember how sick she was. Today’s medicine has improved a lot, and they’re better able to figure out exactly the right dose.”

  “You and Vivian seem to be getting along well,” I say.

  A coy smile appears on his lips. “Yes, she’s as good a caregiver for me as she was for you. Thank you.”

  “Well, I need to get ready for
work,” I say standing up. I kiss him on the cheek, and head for the door.

  “Scarlett?” he asks.

  I turn around and look him in the eyes. “Yes?”

  “I’m glad to see that you’re back with Michael again. This time…I have a better feeling about it.”

  “Me, too,” I say.

  The next day goes by without incident. I work my normal shifts, and wait impatiently for the phone call from Spencer letting me know Anne has awoken. He never calls. And he doesn’t even have lunch with me, but texts me and cancels due to emergency surgeries, and extra shifts. Part of me wonders if he canceled because of how Michael treated him at the hospital, although knowing Spencer, I come to the conclusion that he’s just really busy.

  The next morning, I get the phone call I have anxiously been waiting for. Spencer tells me Anne just woke up, and that she’s been asking for me. Immediately, I get Staci to cover for me and then I head to the hospital. On my way, I call my father and Michael and give them the good news. Michael offers to come, but I tell him I’d prefer some alone time with Anne. He doesn’t object, only says he understands completely.

  When I enter the room, Anne’s mother is knitting in the corner, and her father is reading a book. Anne’s eyes are open, but she’s still lying down. Her face is slightly less bloated, although the bruises look even worse than before. Tears immediately spring to my eyes, however, not wanting her to see me crying, I whisk them away.

  She smiles softly when she sees me, and then she nods to her mother and both her parents stand up. They vanish out the door. She must have talked to them in advance.

  “Anne,” I say, approaching the bed. “I’m so—”

  “If you even think about taking any blame for this or feeling guilty about it, I will strangle you with the tubes that are attached to me,” she says.

  Surprised by her comment, I laugh a little.

  “You look like shit, Scarlett,” she says.

  “And you look wonderful,” I say, feeling gratitude fill my heart as I realize there’s no brain damage, and that whoever the attacker was, he didn’t destroy her completely.

  She laughs, but then her face contorts. “Sorry. It hurts to move.”

  “I’m so glad you’re…going to be okay.” Sitting down by her side, I take her hand in mine. “Did you see who it was?”

  “It was some guy from The Black Chapel who had been asking for my information,” she says.

  So it was who Laila suspected. “Do you know if they found him yet?”

  “They did, and they’re holding him in custody right now.”

  “Good,” I say. “I hope they eject the fucking scumbag into space.”

  “Me, too,” she says, getting a sad look on her face. “He tried to rape me, but I kicked him so hard in the balls he couldn’t manage.”

  “Oh, God,” I say, feeling nausea churn in my belly.

  “Instead, he cut me up pretty bad.”

  I want to kill the guy.

  “I needed to talk to you alone because I have agreed to let my parents take me back home next week when they release me from the hospital,” she says.

  I nod. It’s a wise decision, but thinking about how she’ll live on the other side of the country kills me. “I’ll miss you.”

  Her expression turns dejected, and for the first time since I got here, tears appear in her beautiful blue eyes. “I’ll miss you so much, too, Scarlett.”

  I squeeze her hand gently. “So you’ll start college right away?”

  “Yes,” she says. “I have decided to major in ballet.”

  “You’ll be a beautiful ballerina. I’ll come see you perform. I promise.”

  “I’d like that. Oh, how are you and Michael?” she asks.

  I take a deep breath. “We’re definitely back on again, and…things are different this time.”

  “How so?” she asks.

  “Well…everything. When we spend time together, I feel calmer. Well, maybe not always, but…I mean, it’s like when we fuck, holy shit, it’s even more amazing than before. And there’s an openness and an honesty there, that…” I realize I can’t find the words. “It’s just amazing. There’s a security in it. I just can’t explain, but the passion is like ten times better.”

  “Well. If he messes with you again, you can always come crash at my place,” she says. “I’m sure there will be plenty of hot guys willing to help you forget.”

  I laugh. “Of course.”

  “So do you think he’ll propose for real?” she asks.

  “We’re just dating, and I want to see how things go first.”

  “What would you say if he asked you right now?” she asks.

  “Hell, I’d say yes,” I admit, a shrill of delight spreading through me. “But there’s no rush. We need to get to know each other better.” I don’t want all the focus to be on me, so I ask, “Do you think you’ll be okay?”

  She leans her head back onto the pillow, looks up to the ceiling, and exhales slowly. “I swear on my life I’m never going to be a victim of an attack again. I just want to go to school and forget everything that happened since I was seventeen. I’m going to make good choices, and no man will be allowed to screw that up again. In fact, I’m not going to date until I’ve graduated.”

  “What if Mr. Right shows up?” I ask.

  Her right eyebrow rises and she frowns. “The he’ll have to wait.”

  “Okay. If you say so.” I don’t want to push her further on the subject since she’s had such horrendous experiences with men. She has a lot of healing to go through, and I hardly think she’ll be emotionally ready to date anyone until she has healed.

  Dr. Kent walks into the room, and stares impassively at me. “I need to run some tests, so you’ll have to leave,” he says coolly.

  I rise to my feet. “That’s fine. Can I come visit you tomorrow, too?” I ask Anne.

  “Of course. I’ll just be right here.”

  I don’t dare give her a hug, afraid I’ll hurt her. “See you tomorrow, then.” I squeeze her hand one last time, and then I head back to work.

  * * *

  Over the course of the next few days, Michael and I spend every night together, having sex as much as we both can possibly take, our passion keeping us up long past a decent bedtime hour.

  I get the feeling that for him, our love-making is a way to get around talking about Spencer, as I suspect the thought of my friend-with-former-benefits still bothers Michael. Maybe it’s his way of claiming me, or my way of proving I truly only want him. Or it could be that we share the same fear and are terrified our relationship will end again.

  On Friday night after my shift at Ophelia’s, I’m spent, but when Michael picks me up in his Range Rover and tells me he has a surprise planned, I’m all game. He drives me to The Fountain, and I become curious as to what he has in store for us.

  We head inside, and Michael orders us a couple of Negronis, and then carries them back to the office. When he closes the door and locks it, I know exactly what he’s thinking.

  “Here to finish the job?” I ask, sitting up on the desk with my legs crossed. I take a sip of my Negroni, and then, starting at the top, I start to unbutton my shirt as I spread my legs. My inner muscles spasm in anticipation.

  “What job?” he asks, his eyes lowering to my cleavage, and then between my legs.

  “Oh, you don’t remember?” I stop undressing. Getting an idea, I hop off the desk, stride across the room, and unlock the door.

  “Okay, okay, I admit it,” he says, his hands up in surrender.

  I approach him until I’m standing just an inch away, and then I lean my back against the door.

  “Lock it,” he says.

  “No.” I say, pressing a hand to his firm chest.

  He steps in front of me and reaches for the lock, but I swat his hand away. I realize he has his plans for tonight, but I also want to have a say in how we spend the evening. I don’t know if it’s the music or the nightclub atmosphere or my fo
rmer stripper self who’s taking over, but right now, I want to be in charge.

  Leaning my head back against the door, I lift my leg up and drag my inner thigh against his outer thigh. His mouth opens and he licks his lower lip as he draws in a staggered breath. Grabbing underneath my leg, he hoists it up as he presses his cock firmly against me.

  I moan. He must have been thinking about this for a while because he already has a hard-on. It’s so fucking hot.

  “Not yet,” I say, although my body curses me for coming up with a different plan in which to delay what it’s craving—what it needs.

  Wanting him to have a new memory of me here at the club, I take his hand in mine and lead him out into the main area and onto the crowded dance floor. The loud base causes my entire body to vibrate, and it’s as if the music takes possession of my body, causing me to move to the heavy beat. Squeezing through the throng of dancers, I notice how sweltering hot it is in here, and since I’m still wearing my black slacks and white button-down shirt from work, I start to sweat immediately.

  Finally arriving in the center, I lift my hands over my head and start to move my hips while staring at Michael. His eyes smolder as he watches, and when I rake my hands up and down my body, his stare turns ablaze. I know that look well and it makes me feel like the sexiest woman alive.

  Watching him lusting after me like that, the same way he did all those times he watched me dance for him at The Black Chapel, I soon find my panties soaked. Not once did I dance for him where it led to sex. Now, with nothing holding us back, no mask, no lies, no secrets, my entire body is buzzing with anticipation. I want to give him a show. One he’ll remember for years to come.

  He moves closer and rests his cheek to mine, and as we grind against each other, a deep, delicious ache surges in the most intimate part of me.

  I notice he’s holding back quite a bit—no touching, no fondling—but I gather it is because he’s one of the owners here. However, his modesty does nothing to cool the firestorm that’s raging between us. In fact, the restraint he’s displaying makes me even hotter. Makes me want him more.