by CD Reiss
“Fiona…” His voice was low and soft.
“Scared?”
“Come on.”
“Afraid you might not measure up?”
He smiled. “I measure up.”
“Then what are you scared of?”
“Nothing, just—”
“Bok bok bok.”
“You daring me?”
“I’m daring you to let me blow your mind. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’m daring you to stop trying to save me. Just take what you want without all the baggage.”
“What’s in it for you?” he asked.
“Getting you off my back.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He stepped away and looked off into the smoggy horizon, a little smile on his face. I had my reasons for wanting to sleep with him, not the least of which was the fact that I liked him. A lot. I liked the way he spoke and the things he said. I liked his openness and vulnerability. He had beautiful hands, and deep inside him was a sexuality I wanted to experience.
But, yeah, the reasons.
“Let’s do it,” I said. “It’ll be fun.”
“Fun?”
“Yeah. Not too many men can resist a night with me.”
“I’m not too many men. I’m one man. And when I have you, Fiona, I’ll be sacrificing my career. So when I finally take you to bed, I won’t be changing my life for a little pussy. I’m changing it for a woman.”
“If you wait, doctor, I might not be around when you’re ready.”
“You’ll wait.”
He was right. I would. I’d changed in Westonwood. Partly it was Elliot. Partly it was Warren. And partly, well, who knew? But I was going to wait because I had the feeling he’d be worth it.
CHAPTER 32.
fiona
The Thing existed for people exactly like me and was closed to gapers and hangers-on. No reservations required, but it was still the hardest meal to get in Los Angeles, unless you were me.
The second-floor dining room was accessed through the restaurant kitchen and up a narrow flight of stairs, where a man waited. His name was Diego, and he was a star. If he knew your face, you were in. If he didn’t, you could go eat downstairs or go home. Not his problem.
Once you got through the door, the space opened up like a whore’s legs. Two floors and fifteen thousand square feet. Windows that let the street see that something was happening up there, even if it was inaccessible.
The rectangular tables were set in a herringbone up and down the huge space, and everything was glow-in-the-dark white. Literally. The lights were shut for ten minutes every hour, and the tables, plates, and wall designs became visible in glowing green.
One dish was served to everyone. The Thing wasn’t about the food.
I waved to Baby and Mindy in the back and made my way across the floor. Karen leaned on me. Arrow waved. I could tell from across the room he was jacked.
“Hey!” Baby cried, kissing my cheek. I could smell her makeup. “We were just talking about your brother.”
“Jonathan?”
A plate with food appeared in front of me. Karen waved hers away.
“The one and only,” Baby said, shifting the hump of beef stew around his enormous plate. “He’s making my brother nuts. Won’t take pills. Wants booze, the one thing Warren can’t get in.”
“You guys!” Mindy laughed. “You all are so crazy!” Her pupils were vinyl records with blue pencil around them.
“Jonathan’s fucking with him,” I said. “He’s not a user.”
“Oh, he uses,” Baby said. “Uses that dick. It’s famous.”
“And the hands,” Mindy added. “I had bruises for a week.” She bit her lower lip.
By the look on her face, I was forced to imagine things I didn’t want to imagine. She was twenty-six, and my brother was not in her fucking age group. But that didn’t matter. Not a bit. Maybe in a different universe her comment would have stirred some emotion in me, but in mine, I was supposed to chuckle and blow it off. The conversation continued around other matters of no importance, and I seethed. I was sober. That was the problem. And the glass of wine I sat sipping did nothing to bring me to the plane of jacked-up silliness these people took so seriously. I was an outsider.
“That’s my brother, bitch,” I said too late and too loud. “He’s six-fucking-teen.”
The table dropped into silence.
“Go do a line, Fiona,” Baby said. “You’re being a drag.”
Had she fucked my brother? And why did I care? He was a big boy. I knew he was sexually active with Rachel at the very least. He could decide what to do with his dick, though I didn’t want to picture it, ever. Period. But for some reason, the thought of Baby fucking him was about to put me over the edge, even without imagining the act itself. Something about it being Baby Chilton.
The lights dropped, and the room exploded in glowing green shapes. The dim echo of conversation went on, and I bit my lip before I could speak.
Why aren’t you letting yourself think the obvious?
Is it because you love your brother?
Why isn’t that comfortable for you?
Elliot’s voice warmed me. Calmed me. With the lights out, I was back in his office under hypnosis.
Use different words to describe yourself.
Loyal.
Protective.
Capable of love.
I was uncomfortable. Emotionally out of sorts. A line of flake would have fixed that nicely, but I wanted to sit inside the discomfort and understand it. More proof I was crazy. But the ten minutes of dark was the perfect time to stare inward and observe the tangle, and the titter of my friends’ voices was the perfect sound to back up against. I was another stroke in a larger painting, and even my discomfort over my brother’s initiation into my sick life seemed like the right pigment.
Which didn’t mean I was letting Jonathan make my mistakes. Once he was out—
The lights went on, and though nothing significant had changed for anyone else, two things had changed for me.
One, a tiny shift in my perception of myself and my ability to change the lives of people I loved.
Two, Deacon stood across from me.
Baby was looking at him like she wanted to eat him alive.
“Fiona,” he said as if stating a fact.
I crossed my arms. I wasn’t doing anything I should be ashamed of, and not because he hadn’t given me permission to snort shit or whatever, but because I didn’t want to. Because I’d come to The Thing looking for food and companionship.
“Deacon.” I stood.
“Oh hey,” purred Mindy. “I remember you! I—”
“I’m bringing you back to Laurel Canyon.” His eyes never left mine.
For a second, I thought that was what I wanted. To be lost in the sharp calm of his world, where everything could be predicted and what was unplanned had a response.
I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was clean. I was just eating and having a glass of wine. I wasn’t even driving home. But I snapped my jaw shut.
You are a grown woman.
And he was just another drug.
CHAPTER 33.
fiona
Why do you want to know?
I’ve been with Deacon a long time, and you never said anything about that. Was it because there was a connection with us? You and me?
I can’t see my own connections.
So?
So.
Debbie, are you going to answer my question?
We had to cross a fake cobblestone lane to get to the parking lot. I’d taken a cab. Deacon drove. So we had to exit and cross, and I didn’t even know if I wanted to go with him.
The paps waited outside in a pack. I’d be in the news with Deacon’s hand on my back. They didn’t faze him, no matter what they said. One time, early in our relationship, a pap had tried to get a rise out of him by calling me Deacon’s Famous Little Fucktoy.
I thought
he’d fly off the handle, but he didn’t. He stared at the man, and the pap never came around again. After that, they didn’t say much to me when he was around, unless they were new. Another stare, and it was done.
We walked into the lot.
A valet approached, and Deacon waved him off. “I’ll get it myself.”
We took the stairs, as always. No elevator. No one handles the car but him.
So many little things.
Like the way he walked a little bit behind me. The way he opened a door slowly and didn’t go through right away, or the way he checked right then left before he let me walk through it first. The casual spot check of the car. The way he unlocked it from as far away as possible then locked it again so if it exploded, we were half a garage away.
I stopped and pressed my fingers to my eyelids. “I can’t do this.” My voice echoed in the empty concrete space.
“Then what?” he shouted.
He never shouted.
“I’m just using you. Don’t you see that?”
“What do you want?” His jaw tightened. He pointed the key at me as if he were going to unlock me remotely with a light-flashing beep.
“I want to be normal.”
“Jesus Christ. You might as well want to be taller. Normal wasn’t the hand you were dealt. You and I, we’re not normal. That’s not a choice we have.”
“I know. I…”
I stopped myself. Did I want to do this? Out here in the parking lot, with the sound of tires screeching around turns somewhere in the depths, did I want to do this? I’d done an incomplete job in my penthouse if he thought he could just show up.
“You were supposed to be away,” I said. “On the continent. Why did you stay?”
“Africa’s just one fucking crisis after another. But you? You’re broken, and if I’m not here to fix it, I’m responsible for what happens.”
“Okay, listen to me. You aren’t responsible for my shit. You know who’s responsible for that? Me. All me. I’ve been putting myself in stupid situations. I’ve been fucking crazy. And it’s my fault. Not yours. Everything that happens is my fault.” I took a deep breath. “That’s not true. Not everything is my fault, but the stuff I choose? That’s mine. Yes, I put myself in a ton of shit this week, and yes, I got out of all of it. I think I was testing myself. But also…” I swallowed. My spit tasted like metal.
“Also?”
He brushed my forearm, his fingers landing in the curve of my palm. It was so easy to fall into him and just submit myself. I pulled my hand away.
“Don’t. I can’t use you anymore. And I can’t treat you like a barometer. Or whatever. I don’t even know what a barometer does. But if it’s something a grown woman looks at to decide if she’s doing right or wrong, then I can’t use you for that.”
“This is what it is. And if it works? What’s the problem?”
“It doesn’t work. I didn’t tell you who hurt me in Westonwood because you’d freak out and kill someone.”
He raised his finger. “I knew it—”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I saw what he did.”
“I’m the only one who can make it right. I’m the only one who can stop it from happening to someone else. I just…” As if the underground parking lot had cracked open and sunlight shone through, I knew the problem. “I was scared. I thought if I brought it up, I’d be asking the universe for it to happen again.”
He put his hands on my jaw and moved his face close to mine. I didn’t feel safe or enclosed, but I didn’t feel endangered. I felt a responsibility to him, as a man, as a lover, as a friend who cared about me.
“What happened?” he said in a low voice, not his Dominant tone, but something just as serious.
“Right before I left, I went to the creek with him to talk about the sleeping pills he got me. He raped me. It hurt. I told him to stop. But I had to get out of there, so I didn’t tell anyone.”
“You sat next to me in my car right after he did that?”
I nodded, looking down. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out.”
“Who was it?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I looked into his eyes. “I’m going to take care of it.”
“I can’t tell you what it does to me that someone hurt you. You’re mine. I chose you. To not go there and kill him right now… where I’m from, I’d tie him to the back of my Jeep and drag him through the street until he didn’t have a bone left that wasn’t broken.”
“To send a message.”
“To make you feel safe. I have no tools here. Anyone can take what’s mine, and I can’t do anything.”
“I have tools. But I can’t drag him around the street. This isn’t Africa.”
“Let me help you then.”
I pressed my lips together. “This is going public. You can help me by not getting mad about it. You should probably go back to Johannesburg, because your privacy is probably going to be not-so-private anymore.”
He leaned on one foot, the picture of male perfection. His presence in the ugly parking lot made it more beautiful, yet he looked at a complete loss. “I don’t know what I care about besides you.”
I took a deep breath, because I had to expand my chest to fit a new love for him. I’d never known why he needed me, and with those words, I understood it all. By sheltering the unprotectable, controlling the out-of-control, he gave himself a task so impossible, he’d never run out of shit to keep him from his own problems.
I loved him more than ever.
I took his cheeks in my hands.
“I’m going home, Master.”
CHAPTER 34.
fiona
I dreamed dreams of a narrow wall reaching to the sky. I walked on the top, toe to heel. Then with wider strides, and wider, until I was running, fearlessly, recklessly, Los Angeles beneath me at cruising altitude. The wall ended, and I walked on the sky. Then I feared, and fell, and woke to another day.
I had a voice mail from Elliot when I got out of the shower.
I want you to know. I told the admins. They’re investigating. You’re going to be fine, no matter what. And I’m here for you, no matter what.
My lungs got too small for breaths. I nearly choked on my own spit. People were going to know. They’d talk about how I’d said no. They’d come and ask me about it. I sat on the bathroom floor, wet and naked, staring at his message.
The phone rang.
“Fiona?” Elliot asked. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Your sister already told law enforcement. They came right after. They want to do an examination.”
I didn’t answer.
“Fiona?”
“I’m not a victim.”
“You don’t have to use that word.”
“They will.”
“You’re not alone. I’m here. If you can’t lean on me, I talked to your sister. She’ll be there for you every step—”
I hung up. Half a second later, the screen lit up with Margie’s name.
It was all over.
CHAPTER 35.
fiona
The rape kit was as bad as I thought it would be, and it was probably for nothing, because it had been days since the assault. But the woman from LAPD insisted it could only help. After the first two hours, the speculum, the swabs, the photographs of my ass, we hadn’t even started.
“There’s no point,” Margie said from behind me. I was in stirrups, and the young tech was coming at me with tape. “We have to skip combing for hair. She’s showered.”
“We can skip anything you want.”
“No,” I said. “If we’re doing it, we’re doing it.”
Margie squeezed my hand through the exam.
Afterward, we sat at a desk and I described everything in brutal, painful detail to a female detective in a button down shirt. She seemed more angry about it than I did, and I appreciated that. Margie was the most irritated. I felt her anger at the process. It radiated through her tan su
it in the form of a calm, dead heat.
“It’s okay,” I said in the cafeteria when the detective had been called away. Margie needed more comfort than I did.
My phone rang. Elliot again. I shut it. He wanted to be there, and I didn’t want him anywhere near me. Not for this.
“Daddy’s going to find out,” she said.
“He’s not going to believe me.”
A shadow passed over us, and I looked up to find out who had blocked the light.
“Speak of the devil,” Margie said.
“And he shall appear, Margaret.”
Our father wore a perfect suit and held his hands in front of him as if he didn’t want to appear too threatening. It didn’t work. The full head of sandy-red hair came to a point at the center, reminding me that maybe I shouldn’t speak of him if I didn’t want him to show up.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“Ibiza. I told her to stay. I have this.” He turned his sharp eyes to Margie. “Will you excuse us?”
“She’s going to tell me everything anyway. So no.”
Margie, of all of us, was the least afraid of Declan Drazen.
He swung a chair around and sat with us. He stared at me as if I had a really good book stuck to my face.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re telling the truth?”
“Dad,” Margie protested.
He ignored her.
“Of course I’m telling the truth.”
“May I be frank and less than politically correct?” he asked.
“No,” Margie said, but she was ignored again.
“Go the fuck ahead. I don’t care.”
“Your reputation precedes you. It’s an ugly thing to say, but how you act affects how people treat you. You don’t have to like it. It’s the world.”
“Really?” Margie looked ready to jump out of her skin. “Are you fucking with her?”
I pointed at him and spoke firmly. “I said no. No is no, regardless of how many guys fucked me this year or this week.” I spat it out, hoping to upset him. I failed.
“I know. And for that, I’m going to destroy him and the family that created him. That kid’s always been trouble, and they allowed it. I can’t abide anyone knowing they took what wasn’t theirs. That they took it from us. But that’s why I need to make sure you’re telling the truth and this isn’t some game.”