Wrong Side Girl (The Girl Series Book 1)

by Goda, Julia

  So things were great. We were happy and for the first time in my life, I was looking forward to my future seeing as it was filled with Lizzy. There was only one thing happening in my life right now that I could do without. Or two things actually: Courtney and my mother.

  As promised, I had called my mother to tell her the news of Lizzy and I being together, informing her that she should expect her as my partner at the next dinner party. Just like I expected her to, she had lost her mind, guilt-tripping me about ruining the family’s reputation, her reputation, by being with the daughter of the town’s slut.

  “Why you would lower yourself to be with trash like her I will never understand! Is it to spite me? Do you hate me that much that you’ll do anything to get back at me?” Typical for my mother, she made me being with Liz all about her.

  “No, mother. I am not with Lizzy because I am using her to get back at you and ruin your oh so holy reputation. I know you have no frame of reference, will never understand what I am talking about, but I am with her because I love her, because I cannot be without her. We belong together. She is mine and I am hers, and if you can’t respect that, then neither of us will ever set foot into your house again. I will not tolerate you and your friends treating her like a second-class citizen. Accept it or lose me in the process, mother. Your choice.” Not much came after that. She huffed and puffed, but I was done. She could let me know when she was over it or I wouldn’t go back there.

  Courtney was another matter altogether. I hadn’t mentioned it to Lizzy since that day at the coast after lunch, but Courtney had not let up with her harassment. She was hard to shake. Her behavior was escalating. It had turned from incessantly text messaging and calling my cell to her trying to contact me at work. I was going to have to deal with her face-to-face. And soon. I had promised Lizzy she didn’t have to worry, I would make her go away, and I intended to keep that promise. When Courtney had called my office today, demanding to speak to me because of an emergency, my assistant had interrupted me during a very important meeting, which my boss had also attended. This could not happen again or I could lose my job. So I had agreed to meet her after work to talk. Not that I would let her talk much. I would go in there, tell that bitch to get it through her head that there would never be anything between us again, and leave. It would be quick. In and out in five minutes’ tops. I wouldn’t even order a drink. So why did I feel guilty that I hadn’t told Lizzy about it? She knew I was working late again, so she didn’t expect me at her apartment until later, and I didn’t want her to worry or get mad because there was nothing to worry or get mad about. Courtney didn’t factor into my life, so there was no reason to share the situation with Lizzy. I was just doing what I had promised her I would do, making Courtney go away.

  Nothing to feel guilty about.

  Right.

  Shit.

  I left my office and walked the two blocks to the bar I was meeting Courtney at. As soon as I walked through the door, I could see her sitting in a dark, quiet corner. Great. She was dressed and made up to the nines and was staring at me—with what I’m sure she intended to be seduction in her eyes—as I walked towards her table. My gut twisted in disgust at her blatant display. This is what I had usually gone for before I let myself have Lizzy: over-the-top women who dressed like skanks and threw themselves at me to enjoy for a night or two. I felt dirty and disgusted with myself.

  Courtney rose from her seat in an attempt to kiss me, but I moved away before her lips could touch mine. Her sweet perfume was overwhelming and made me want to gag. I needed to get this done fast and get the hell out of here. She pretended she didn’t notice my rejection and smiled huge at me while sitting back down. I sat across from her and glared at her. She started laughing. Crazy bitch. Let’s get this over with. I leveled my glare at her and jumped right in without preamble.

  “Courtney. Get me right now. There is nothing between us. All there ever was, was sex. You’re a good lay, but I’ve had better before you and definitely better since. I am with someone now and I will not be contacting you ever again. Now, tell me you get what I’m saying to you.” I could see her flinch slightly at my harsh words, but I didn’t give a shit. I had tried to be nice when I told her I was off the market. After her shenanigans during these past two weeks, I was done with nice. She had proven that she was a bitch, meaning I would treat her like one.

  “Now, now, Cole. We both know that’s not true. I have had my hooks in you since high school. You’ve been coming back to me for eight years, Cole. A girl knows what that means. I understand I have to let you be you, let you sow your wild oats before you’re ready to commit to me. I’m a patient woman, baby. Fucking that trash is just another need you have to fulfill before you’ll let yourself love me, just like fucking all those other skanks over the years. But don’t worry, baby, I’ll wait for you.” God, this woman was crazier than I thought. Was she serious?

  “Woman, you are one of the skanks I have been fucking. I will never commit to you, there is nothing to commit to. You are delusional if you believe any of the shit that just came out of your mouth. We are done.” With that I gave her one last glare and got up to leave, hoping she got the message.

  “Your mother agrees with me. We talked.”

  I stopped and turned around to face her. “I bet you did. I also don’t care what my mother thinks.” She smiled a dangerous smile at me. Almost predatory. As if she knew something I didn’t. It made my gut clench. “I’m not a quitter, Cole. I always get what I want.” Fucking unbelievable. There was nothing more to say. Meeting her had been a mistake.

  I should have known.

  Without saying anything else, I turned away from her, left the bar, and headed to Lizzy’s apartment.

  Lizzy

  Thank God this day was over. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely loved my job, but today was one of those days where I’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Being a social worker at a youth shelter in a big city like Boston came with its daily frustrations. But today had been like a kick in the gut. I was still trying to find a suitable home for Jesse and Chloe. Finding a family that was willing to take on siblings was always tricky. But separating them was not an option. I wouldn’t even bring that up for discussion. Jesse would pack up his sister and bolt. Guaranteed. I couldn’t risk that. Over the last few weeks, they had come to be important to me. Yes, I knew all about keeping my distance, how not to involve my emotions, blah, blah, blah. But honestly, whoever advised you to keep your emotions locked up when you worked with children had never worked with children. It was impossible to not feel anything when a sixteen-year-old boy tells you the reason he and his sister are living on the street is because their father is sexually abusing both of them. How could anyone stay detached? If you didn’t feel anything for these kids, then you couldn’t be the kind of social worker they needed. At least that’s what I think. So I was sick and tired of some higher-ups with their fancy-ass degrees telling me I was too involved, that I cared too much. That if I distanced myself, it wouldn’t hit me so hard every time I hit a brick wall or there was nothing at all that could be done for the kids. Are you shitting me? What I wanted to do right now was snatch up all my kids and kidnap them, take them to live with me in the jungles of Costa Rica, far away from this city and its budget meetings where it was decided how many hours of counseling an abused child needed, if tutoring really did them any good since they chose to live on the streets, and how many fucking pudding cups we were allowed to hand out every day. Okay, maybe I was being a bit harsh since it was only one person that acted like a stick-up-her-ass-penny-crunching bitch, but she had pushed me too far today, suggesting I concentrate on the cases that had the promise of success instead of trying to save every child I meet. Seriously! She was a social worker in a different district of the city, and I had called her for information on any new foster parents in her area, seeing as all of our trusted ones were full. I thought it was my job to do everything in my power to help, to work together in making the
kids’ lives easier, to try and make them realize that there is a future for them out there. Every child that needs my help. Not just the ones that I know I can save or are ‘easier’ or looked ‘more promising’. And why did that bitch try to enlighten me about how best to do my job? Because I had dared to question the system of sending kids to the first available foster home without making sure it was actually a right fit. Apparently I was taking too long, I was too picky, I asked too many questions. I was so mad after that phone call that Taryn had asked me to see her when my ranting got so loud that everyone in the common room could hear me. She had tried to calm me down. I knew she felt the same frustrations, but her hands were tied. We had to follow procedure. Taryn encouraged me to hand in a proposal for a better procedure of networking and had suggested I get Rainey on board. “The two of you seem to agree on pretty much everything anyway and regularly give me a hard time about the limitations you have to work with. Might as well partner up in your bullheadedness,” she had said, almost making me smile. Or if I wanted to file a complaint, she was even going to support me in that. I was treading on thin ice though, I knew. If people started talking about me being difficult to work with, it would make it harder not only for me but the kids I handled. But I couldn’t help it. I was passionate about my job and sometimes that passion got the better of me.

  On my way home, I decided to stop at the bookstore, get a hot chocolate, and hang out for a bit. Cole told me this morning he would be working late again, so I had lots of time to kill. Funny how things worked out that way. At first, I was afraid we would be spending too much time together, would smother each other, but spending every free minute with him had instead balanced me somehow. Instead of thinking and overthinking and going to bed frustrated or pissed off after a bad day at work, I now had someone to vent to, to bounce things off of, to get a different perspective from, to call me out on stuff, and do the same in return. It was nice. Yes, before we became a couple, Cole and I would talk on the phone almost daily and do the exact same thing, but having him with me every day made it more personal somehow. Sometimes all you needed was a hug or a smile from the person you love to make things better. It had always been like that with us. Tonight, I would probably earn a reproachful look after I told him how mad I got in front of everyone.

  My favorite bookstore was down by the pier. It was more than a detour from my way home but so worth it. Sitting in one of the store’s super comfy armchairs with a good book, slurping a hot chocolate, and looking out over the water was very calming and serene. It was a good spot to relax and go into my head without anyone bothering me. I still needed that sometimes. Not as often as I used to now that I was away from Ashford and everything that was supposed to be my home, but from time to time I needed to get my head straight and I did that best when I was by myself. Even when things were good and I was happy, I took those breaks to think, to appreciate what I had, how much I had accomplished, how far I had come. So that was my plan. To stop and take a break and let everything that happened in the last few weeks run through my head, let my thoughts wander, and just enjoy a quiet moment or two or five. I could also use a new book. My life had been so busy and eventful lately that I hadn’t had time to stock up on anything new.

  So that was what was on my mind when I crossed the street in front of the bookstore. I’d had to park a few blocks away. The pier area was always busy and I had some trouble finding a spot. When I was trying to navigate through the pedestrian traffic without bumping into anyone, I saw Jesse about twenty feet in front of me. This wasn’t a popular hangout for street kids, so seeing him here took me off guard. And anyway, Jesse should be back at the shelter. I was heading toward him when I realized that a man was holding him by the arm, stopping him from getting away. What the hell? I started running, wanting to get there as fast as possible to see what that was all about. I could hear the man’s low voice, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. What I could make out, though, was that he was angry. Very angry. Right before I got there, Jesse wrenched his arm out of the man’s hold and took a swing at him.

  “Jesse!” I shouted, which made both of them look in my direction. “What the hell is going on?” The relief on Jesse’s face at seeing me made my gut clench. Relief at seeing your social worker when you’ve been caught in an altercation with an adult is not the usual reaction street kids had. I expected anger or arrogance, but Jesse’s reaction told me that something was wrong here, that he didn’t want to be anywhere near this man and saw me as his rescuer. I took a good look at the man while stepping closer to them, angling my body in a way that Jesse was standing half behind me on my left side. The man in front of me was a big guy with dark brown eyes that were glaring at me with contempt. They were Jesse’s eyes. His hair was dark blond and needed a cut about six weeks ago. There were only certain men who could pull that look off. He was definitely not one of them. His clothes looked like he had been sleeping in them and smelled worse. This was Jesse and Chloe’s father. Anger so raw it clouded my vision ran through me as soon as I realized who he was.

  “Bitch, this has nothing to do with you. Run along,” he disregarded me in a voice filled with condescension. His eyes were locked on Jesse and they were filled with hatred. When I pulled Jesse further behind me, trying to block him from view, his father’s eyes came to me and narrowed. He took a step closer to me and glared down at me. That didn’t intimidate me, though. I was too angry for that.

  “Step back,” I hissed at him. He leaned in closer and smiled an ugly smile at me. Bile rose in my throat at what I could tell he was thinking behind those dark eyes. I raised my voice to get the attention of the people around us. Witnesses. “I said, step back!” He still didn’t give in. Instead, he inhaled deeply, then closed his eyes and hummed low in his throat. Gross! When his eyes opened again, he said in a low voice, looking at Jesse over my shoulder, “She smells even better than your sister, son. Maybe I should take this one home as well to keep me entertained. What do you think?” I froze. So did Jesse behind me. Then I could feel the rage and hatred waving off of him right before he lunged at his father, shouting, “You fucking piece of shit!” I was caught in the middle and tried my damnedest to keep them apart, but didn’t stand a chance. One of them threw me out of the way and I landed on my ass, watching in horror as they started to beat the shit out of each other. I got up and called Jesse’s name over and over again, but he wouldn’t listen. I didn’t blame him. I wanted to beat the shit out of that man myself. Instead of joining the fray, I called the police, hoping that my and Jesse’s statement were enough to make him leave his kids alone. By the time I ended the call, Jesse’s father had him flat on his back, holding him by the throat, choking him. We had an audience now of about twenty people staring down at the scene. Typical. Everyone enjoyed a good show, but nobody jumped in to help. I kept screaming for him to let go, yanking at his arm, but I was no match for him. Instead of releasing his son, he reared his free arm back to punch me in the face. I let go of his arm and stumbled back, my hands going to my nose and feeling blood there. Stars were dancing at the edge of my vision and I had to sit down so I wouldn’t pass out.

  Shit, but that hurts.

  Someone was kneeling beside me, holding me by the shoulder, talking to me, but I couldn’t make out the words. I was too busy fighting the nausea and the overwhelming feeling of passing out. In an effort to fight off unconsciousness, I blinked my eyes repeatedly until my vision started to clear little by little until I could take in the scene before me.

  “Miss, are you okay? Can you hear me?” an older man was asking me. He was the one kneeling beside me, shaking my shoulder slightly to get my attention. I nodded, but kept my eyes on Jesse lying on the ground a few feet away from me. His face was a bloody, swollen mess and he wasn’t moving. I shook off the arm still holding me and crawled to Jesse’s prone body. “Jesse,” I whispered, “Jesse!” Please don’t let him be dead. Hot tears were running down my face. Two people were checking Jesse over, one of them kneeling by
his head, holding his neck straight, the other one checking for a pulse and breathing. I reached for his hand and squeezed it, not taking my eyes off his face. “Please, please, please,” I chanted through sobs.

  “He is breathing and his pulse is steady. Just knocked out cold,” one of the men assured me. “We’ll wait for the ambulance. Don’t worry, he’ll be okay.” Oh thank God! Relief washed through me at his words. Then I heard a girl shrieking and seconds later, I saw Chloe running towards us. I let go of Jesse’s hand and got up to intercept her. No reason for her to see her brother like this, unconscious and covered in blood. I caught her and wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I could while I whispered in her ear, “He’s going to be fine, Chloe. It looks bad, but he is going to be okay. I promise. I promise, baby.” Her body was shaking and she was crying so hard it broke my heart. “Hold on to me, Chloe. Just hold on tight.” Her arms came around me as she buried her face in my neck and kept on crying while squeezing me so tightly it actually hurt a bit. But I didn’t let her go. She needed me to be her lifeline right now, to assure her that things would be okay, that I would make them okay. As we kept holding on to each other, we heard the police and ambulance arrive. Over Chloe’s shoulder I could see that the EMTs were checking Jesse’s injuries, talking to each other quietly. Jesse was slowly coming to. I could see his eyes flutter open and closed a couple of times before they stayed open and he looked up at the EMT in confusion. A police officer approached me and took my attention from Jesse when he started talking to me.

  “Ma’am, you should get checked out as well,” he said in a quiet and comforting voice. “Let me lead you over to the ambulance and we’ll have someone see to your nose, make sure nothing’s broken.” I nodded at him and let him lead Chloe and me to the ambulance. Jesse was fully awake now. I could hear his voice as he answered the EMT’s questions. Chloe was still shaking and crying in my arms as we walked over to the ambulance. Another EMT cleaned me up and checked my nose, asked me if I passed out at all.