Fifty Shades of Pink: An LA Lovers Novella

by Jourdyn Kelly

  Fine. I’m sorry, too. I’ll call you later.

  See? I chuckle at the predictability of my friend. The phone is violently jostled from my hand when I bump into another person on the sidewalk. This is why you shouldn’t text and walk at the same time.

  “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t…”

  “I’m sorry…” A shocked gasp. Whether it was from me or her I don’t know. I’m too shocked. “Cassidy.”

  Her eyes are wide with complete surprise, which I’m sure I’m mirroring. She’s back. She’s here, in front of me!

  “M—um.” I can’t bring myself to call her Mistress. It just seems so out of place here in front of a charming row of outdoor markets. People were bustling about all around us, but we have yet to move. “You’re back.” Well, way to solve the case there, Sherlock.

  “Y-yes.”

  “How long?”

  She shrugs a little, and I get the sense that she’s feeling about as insecure right now as I am. Hmm. That’s not the Mistress I knew. Of course, this woman in front of me is completely different than the one I met in the Pink Room. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail, her make-up is light, she has on faded boyfriend jeans, and an over-sized denim button-up shirt that is tucked into the front of her jeans. White canvas shoes complete the look, and I’m… probably drooling.

  Damn. I thought she looked sexy in her leather and bustier. Obviously I only needed to see her like this to know what real sexy looked like on her.

  “I’ve been back to the club a few times,” I offer lamely. I’ll try anything to get a conversation going with her. Now that she’s back, I’m going to try anything to keep from losing her again.

  She lifts a brow. “Find someone that will give you what you need?” Wait. Is that jealousy I hear? Surely I’m imagining it. Right? She’s the one who left me. What does she have to be jealous about?

  “No. You weren’t there,” I answer honestly. “I looked for you. Hoped that you would come back.” I didn’t say the words to make her sad, yet I think that’s exactly what I did.

  “I should go.”

  Suddenly there’s only one thing I need to know before she disappears. “What is your name?”

  She looks away. Oh come on! What could possibly be keeping her from telling me now?

  “Did I mean anything to you at all?” She just stands there stock-still, unwilling to give me even one answer. My anger from the past two torturous months rears up. Never a good sign. No telling what will come out of my mouth when that happens. “You know when you told me not to fall in love with you?” Oh no. Don’t say it! “There was only one problem with that, Mistress. You said it a little too late.” Shit! I totally said it. She’s shocked again, and I need to get out of there before I make an even bigger fool of myself. I march away from her. Until one timid word stops me in my tracks.

  “Rebecca.”

  “What?” I keep my back to her, unsure if I can believe what I heard.

  “My name is Rebecca.”

  Slowly, I face her. Rebecca. It’s…

  “Not what you were expecting, is it?” she asks sardonically.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say sincerely.

  “It’s normal.”

  What’s wrong with normal? Cassidy is normal.

  “It suits you.” And it does. The way she is right now, standing in front of me, Rebecca is perfect. Name and all.

  “Not when I’m behind the mask. People assume I have some erotic name that goes with that persona. I don’t.”

  “I’m glad you don’t.” I realize that it’s true. I’m glad she didn’t change her name to something like Mistress Payne or some such. “Why?” Oh yeah, there’s the tilt of the head that I missed so damned much. Still sexy as hell. Even more vulnerable now, looking the way she looks. “Why the club? The mask?”

  “That’s a long story, Cassidy.”

  “I have all the time in the world. Rebecca.” Did her breathing hitch when I said her name? I think it did. I could be just projecting how I felt saying it, but I don’t care. I’ll believe what I want to believe. I gesture to a bench across the way. It’s nestled under some trees, so it offers a bit of shade on this warm day, as well as some privacy. “Sit with me?”

  Does she always debate things in her head that should be an easy answer? I can practically see the wheels turning, perhaps trying to come up with a good excuse not to sit down with me. But I wait patiently—okay, semi-patiently—for her answer.

  Rebecca sighs heavily, and nods. Score one for the good side! What? I’m not bad. And if I am, she made me that way! Whatever. We walk side by side, and my fingers itch to touch her. If I could just take her hand, or guide her with my hand at the small of her back. Is it normal to have this sense of calm and belonging with a person you barely know? One that broke your heart not long ago?

  It feels like it takes us forever to get to the bench. I’m sure in reality it was less than a minute. But when you’re anxiously awaiting to talk to someone you’ve been pining over for months, a minute is forever.

  We settle in, and she’s cuter than ever, tucking a leg up under her as she faces me.

  “What do you want to know?” she asks warily.

  “Everything.” And it’s true.

  She shakes her head slightly. Probably trying to figure out how I turned the tables on her, and got her to obey me for once. I’m still trying to figure out that one myself. Going to need it in the future if I ever want to do it again. Huh. I must be confident if I think I have a future with her.

  “I used to be a Sub,” she begins. It’s the last thing I thought I would hear coming out of her mouth. “I was just out of college. The ink was still drying on my MBA. Entrepreneurship,” she volunteers before I can ask. Damn. Beautiful and smart. She intrigues me more and more. “Anyway, I had an interview for an exclusive club. They wanted someone to come in and overhaul the place. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Hell, I didn’t even know what kind of club it was, but I looked forward to the challenge. That’s when I met Samantha. She owned the place.”

  She pauses. I already don’t like this Samantha, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because my… Rebecca used to be her Sub. Nope. Don’t like her one bit.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” I plea. “I’m just going to run over to that vendor and get you something to drink. Want anything in particular?”

  She gives me a small smile. “You’re still as sweet as ever,” she says quietly. “Water is fine, thank you.”

  Record time. I made it to the vendor, grabbed the waters, paid him, and was back before she had a chance to even think about bailing.

  “Here you go.” Fantastic. Now I’m panting. And not for the good reason.

  She thanks me again, then takes a long swig from her bottle. Stalling? Maybe. Or maybe she’s just thirsty. Give the girl a break.

  “So. Samantha?” Yuck. Even the name tastes bitter when I say it. Yep, don’t like her.

  “Hmm.” It wasn’t a happy hmm. Or a sad one. Perhaps it was just kind of… yielding. “She was beautiful, intelligent, witty. I was instantly attracted to her.”

  Hate her even more.

  “She decided during our interview to show me around. To let me get a feel for the club, and tell me her vision for it. When she started explaining that she wanted to turn it into a sex club, a BDSM club specifically, I didn’t know whether to be intrigued, or to run as far away as I could.”

  Oh how I wish you had run away. But then I wouldn’t have met you, so I can’t be too mad. Wisely, I keep this all to myself.

  “I had no idea what BDSM really was. I mean, I had an idea, probably the same one most people have, and it wasn’t my thing. Kind of like you,” she says with a sly smile. “When I told her that, she volunteered to ‘show me the way’. I was so smitten with her that I agreed.”

  She stops talking again, and looks away. There’s a far-off look in her eyes, and I just know she’s thinking about that time in her life. Jealous, party of one, right here.


  “It was the single biggest mistake of my life, trusting her,” she continues, and I feel horrible for not thinking of her feelings first.

  I remember our first time together, then. I had made some snide remark about letting me tie her up and hit her. She told me that she knew what it was like to get hit. Mother fucking son of a bitch! If that bitch…

  “What happened?” Wow. My voice is much calmer than the entirety of my insides. For some reason, I have this overwhelming need to rip this Samantha chick’s arms off, and beat her with them.

  Rebecca shrugs again, and now I recognize the vulnerability for what it is.

  “Samantha was never one for conventional sex. It just didn’t turn her on unless she was hurting me. Or humiliating me. But it was never about my pleasure. There wasn’t any. She would use and abuse my body until she couldn’t lift the whip, or whatever else she was using, anymore. Then she would leave me tied up while she went out, and did God knows what for hours.

  Even though I was tied up, I used to pray she would stay gone. But every night she would come back high or drunk, and it would start all over again.”

  And now I have my reasoning for needing to harm this Samantha woman. No sane judge or jury could blame me. Convict me? Sure. Blame me? No way.

  “I’m so sorry, Rebecca.” Lame ass words that don’t take away shit for her, but they’re true. I ache to reach out and hold her hand, but I’m still afraid of scaring her away.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me, Cassidy. I stayed with her for years because she convinced me that that was the way of the Sub. It was my duty to cater to her every whim. I was naïve and scared. But I thought she loved me. She was just teaching me her lifestyle.”

  “Why didn’t you use your safe word?” Mist—er, Rebecca—has trained me well enough in our brief time together to know that safe words held all of the power.

  “Samantha didn’t believe in safe words. If you belonged to her, you had no right to tell her no or make her stop.”

  Jesus. This woman was living in a hell. It’s a miracle to me that she’s sitting here, having this conversation with me as though all of that happened to someone else. Maybe that’s what helps her cope? However, as tragic as this story is, it doesn’t explain why she now owns the same kind of club. “Where is she now?”

  “Dead.”

  My head jerks up at the tone of her voice. It was so devoid of any emotion that I wondered—briefly—if she had done it herself.

  “You’re wondering if I killed her.” Okay, I’m sure my eyes are about to bug out of my head. I know I didn’t wonder that out loud. Right? “I can see the question written all over your face, Cassidy. Do you think I’m capable of that?”

  “I think everyone is capable if pushed to their limit, Rebecca. But I didn’t think… I mean, I just…” Yep, that’s me. As eloquent as always. She smiles at me, and I melt. Shit. When the hell did I become so damned sappy? Oh yeah. Two months ago when I first met her.

  “I know. The thing is, I’m not sure if I can say I didn’t kill her.”

  Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that answer. But, honestly, even if she did something to cause the bitch’s death, what I feel for her wouldn’t change. “I don’t understand.”

  “The official cause of death was an overdose. Samantha liked to party. Hard. Everything she did was over the top. Drinking, drugs… me.” She fidgets a little. I know this must be hard for her to talk about. The fact that she is—with me—gives me hope. Maybe it’s selfish of me to think that way, but I don’t intend to let this woman walk out of my life a second time.

  “Did she make you?” I don’t even want to finish the question. Knowing that bitch abused Rebecca is bad enough. If she turned Rebecca into a junkie, I’ll find where the bitch is buried and kill her again.

  “I never did drugs, Cassidy. That’s the one thing I could be grateful for. Samantha was a very selfish person, especially with things that gave her pleasure. That night was no different than any other. She came home already high, and wanting more. She liked having me watch her shoot up. It made her feel powerful to let me know that I was not ‘worthy enough’ to participate.”

  Thank God for small miracles. But watching someone doing that couldn’t be easy either. And then it hit me. What if Rebecca witnessed the overdose, and that’s why she feels somewhat responsible? “Do you think that by watching, you killed her?”

  I begin to wonder if she’s going to answer. As soon as I open my mouth to tell her it’s okay, she speaks.

  “I felt nothing when she died. There was no remorse.” Rebecca stares at her water as she swirls it around. Like a little tornado in the bottle. I’m as mesmerized by it as she is until she starts again. “Actually that’s not true. I did feel one thing. Relief.”

  I didn’t even know this Samantha woman, and I’m relieved she’s gone. She certainly won’t be able hurt Rebecca anymore. “With everything she put you through, I think that’s normal.”

  “Is it normal to sit there and watch her take her last breath?” she asks quietly. Rebecca finally looks up at me. Though I see a myriad of emotions in her eyes, the one thing that grabs me is the strength that’s there. “After she took that last hit, she became more and more agitated, which she took out on me. She kept screaming at me that I was cheating on her, that there was someone hiding in our bedroom. If she wasn’t searching, she was hitting me. Then it all just stopped. Samantha raised her hand to hit me again, and just froze. Convulsions started, she began to get sick.”

  She shivers a little. I imagine she’s back there, seeing it all over again. I almost regret starting her on this path, but I’m hoping it will help her trust me enough to let me into her life. I reach over and touch her lightly on her arm that is draped along the back of the bench. I just need her to know I’m here, no matter what. I’m glad she doesn’t pull away.

  “I could have called an ambulance, Cassidy. I could have called 911, and maybe she would still be alive. But I stood there, bloodied, watching her suffer, and I couldn’t.”

  “I don’t blame you, Rebecca.” Somehow I know they are the words she needs to hear. Whether she believes them or not, I don’t know. Jesus. How long has she been holding on to this? “She did this to herself. She doesn’t deserve your guilt.”

  “Those are easy words to say, Cassidy.”

  “I know, but it’s true.”

  She gives me a small shrug. “Fortunately for me, you weren’t the only one that feels that way.”

  Yeah, it’s irrational, but I still feel a bit of jealousy that someone else knows about this. Of course they do. She had to have called someone after it happened. Hey, at least I know I’m being irrational.

  “You found someone you were able to trust?” I make sure to keep my voice as steady as possible.

  “I don’t know about trust, but he’s a cop. And he knew Samantha did drugs. He always looked the other way because she gave him free access to the club.”

  “Wait, he’s a cop and he didn’t protect you?” Okay, keeping my voice steady didn’t last very long. What kind of bastard would just sit by while this woman was being tortured?

  “He didn’t know about that, Cassidy. I never said anything. Not until that night, and then it was only because there was no way for me to hide it from him. Not after what she did to me. It’s why he agreed to help me, and wrote in the report that I had called him, but he was unable to resuscitate Samantha when he arrived.”

  I shake my head. “But that’s all true from what you’re telling me. She overdosed, you called him, she was already gone. Clear case.”

  She tilts her head at me. You know, the way I find extremely alluring? “Are you a lawyer?”

  I chuckle, feeling a bit awkward doing so after such a heavy conversation. “No, but my dad is. I’ve listened to him discuss cases enough to know the basics.”

  “I see. And, what do you do?”

  I know what she’s doing. She’s steering the conversation away from her. I could let her, but… I did men
tion I’m a bit selfish, right? I need to know more about her. Plus, I want to spend more time with her.

  “We can discuss that later. We were talking about you.”

  “Aren’t you tired of hearing my problems?”

  She’s kidding, right? “I could never be tired of you.” Sigh. I peek up at her, and see the slightly surprised look. Yep, I really said that. One day my mouth is really going to get me in trouble.

  “I don’t know about that, Cassidy. I’m pretty boring behind the mask.”

  I lean closer to her. “You took the mask off for me. There was nothing boring about you, Rebecca. Or do you not remember our time together?”

  She closes her eyes, and breathes in deeply. “I remember.” When she looks at me again, her eyes are shining. It makes me want to take her in my arms, and hold her. For her benefit, I decide to change the subject back to my original curiosity.

  “The club? Did she leave it to you?” I ask delicately. She snorts, and honestly, I find it very cute. I’m finding I like a lot about Rebecca just from her mannerisms alone, and I’m eager to learn more.

  “No. Samantha didn’t have a will. She was one of those who thought she would live forever. Truth is, when I interviewed for the job, Samantha was so far in the red that I didn’t know how she kept the doors open. She was a terrible business woman. She didn’t have good relationships with her vendors, she was about to lose her liquor license.” Rebecca clears her throat, and takes a sip of her water. “I guess I’m not the only one she couldn’t treat right.”

  The more I learn about this Samantha person, the more I wonder how Rebecca could have ever gotten involved with her. Just sitting here and speaking to her, I can tell she’s intelligent. How did Samantha find her way in?

  “I’m very good at what I do,” she continues. “I graduated top of my class, and had multiple successful business plans under my belt before I even walked down the aisle to graduate. But whatever she did to that business, it was going to take a miracle to fix.”

  “But you did. Fix it, I mean.” Obviously, since the club is still open. Thankfully. I don’t think I can imagine not having met Rebecca.