by Ashley Beale
"Eventually I saved enough money to buy a bus ticket. When I got to the Greyhound I purchased the first trip out of there that cost under forty dollars. It brought me to Pensacola. Less than a week in town, I was in a nightclub where I met a wealthy man who offered to pay for my services. The woman who is now my proxy overhead our exchange, in fact I think she was fishing for new girls, and she found me that way. Told me what she did for a living, how much I'd get paid most nights, and it all went downhill from there.
"I never thought there was anything wrong in what I did. You basically paid for me. I mean, think of all the dates we've been on. How much money you've spent to make me happy, then you took me to bed. It's the same concept, but with being an escort, I don't fall in love. I don't reveal the true me. I don't hand my heart over to someone who doesn't understand quite how fragile it is, only to allow it to disintegrate. So you may see a million things wrong with what I do, but I never did. Not until I fell in love with you. I told you this past week I was looking for a new job. I told you I wanted to change. I wanted to tell you the truth about what I did, but I was waiting. But damn you if you hold it against me, especially when you, too, were lying to me!"
"I'm not angry you lied." His voice sounds defeated, so hopefully that means I got to him... even if a little bit. "I lied too, and I'm sorry for that. I really am sorry. I'm angry that you were still screwing guys after we confessed our love to one another. After we made love."
"I want to apologize about that, Everett, but I know it won't make a difference so I won't. If it's any conciliation though, I'm done. I resigned myself from it."
"When?"
"When what?"
"When did you resign?"
"I guess it depends on how technical you want me to get, but it was on Monday that my boss and I agreed this was my final week."
"How many guys were you with this week?" He glances over for a moment again. I hope this is a good sign, even if I'm honest with him.
"I had three clients, you being one."
"Did you... sleep with the other two?"
Everything in me is urging me to lie, but I listen to my conscience this time, because all this time it's been telling me to be honest and I wasn't, which is why we're here. So when I open my mouth, the truth comes out. "One of them. Yesterday. I was really angry with you, Everett, and... I know it's not an excuse. From the moment I started falling for you, I should have stopped. It'll be my biggest regret in life."
An uncomfortable silence takes over once more for several minutes. I don't expect anything from Everett, mainly because I don't deserve his forgiveness, but he manages to surprise me when he speaks. It may not be much, but it's something. "I met with Mona last week," he states. "She said no one in relationships are faithful anymore. She made me realize that it's a rarity to find a love so strong that you'd want to be faithful. I thought, even just the slightest, that we had that."
"We... can..." The words drag out, full of hope, full of anguish.
"I don't know anymore. We both started out lying, Brenna. I don't know if I can trust us to have anything anymore. I don't know if you're going to feel lonely one night and seek someone else to make yourself feel better, I don't know if you're going to talk with other guys behind my back because it builds your confidence, I don't know if I'm willing to look past everything that we've already been through."
Unable to look at him again, I stare out the window off into the distance where white clouds float overhead. At this point nothing I can say will change his mind, nothing I do will make him trust me. I can't prove to him that I'm not some attention seeking whore that jumps from bed to bed, because I haven't proven myself up to this point that I'm anything worthy of his love. So for that, I'll step back. I'll allow him to find someone much more deserving. Someone that can love him unconditionally, someone he can love irrevocably. Someone that isn't me.
I've known since my eighth birthday I wasn't capable of being loved enough. I'll never be someone's strength. I'm their anchor, I hold them back, I cause them to drown.
I'm cutting his chain and allowing him to go.
Four hours later, neither of us have broken the silence. We're less than a half hour from the town of Clearwater. The sky is turning pink and orange, ready for the sun to set. I'm starving but refuse to tell him. I have to pee but won't bother asking. We've both been perfectly content with being distance, even though we're all of two feet from one another.
His phone rings, interrupting our silent thoughts. "It's Burke... Fuck. My ETA is twenty three minutes. Do you have an exact location?... Where would that be?... Yup... Yup... Gotcha. Thanks man... Yeah, I will... Thanks again."
"My partner says he went through newspaper articles and their engagement was listed three weeks ago. Travis Harding, age forty-two, grew up a few towns over. Known for his wealth and dedication to the community. He also managed to dig up that he's had three different women attempt to file domestic charges on him but each one was dropped, and when he was thirty-one he got charged with aggravated assault, but was let go with minimal charges. I have a location, so we'll get there."
If I could feel any worse than I do, it'd have to be on my death bed. Everything that I've known and loved has crashed around me. Closing my eyes, I do something I never, ever do... I pray. Please, Lord, please let Hillarie be okay. Please let us find her. Let me save her, have her come home with me. I beg you, above anything else, to allow her to be alright. To be safe. Please.
I don't open my eyes until the truck pulls sharply into a gated community. Opening my eyes, I look around. We're in a community of gorgeous homes, all separated by acres of land and white picket fences. Everett pulls into the long driveway of a massive yellow home with a dream porch built onto the front. "Stay here," he orders.
I unbuckle anyways. As I reach for the door, Everett grabs my arm. "Brenna, you need to stay here."
"She is my best friend. My only friend. I need to be there for her."
"You are. You're right here. If you walk into this house with me, I'm going to want to protect you above all else. I'm not going to be able to do what I came here to do. I'm walking into that house right now, and I'm going to find Hillarie. I'm going to bring her to you, and we'll go home. It might get ugly, and I can't protect myself, you, and Hillarie all at once. So sit here, keep the door locked, and wait. Please."
His eyes begs me even more. I unwillingly nod my head. "Okay."
He reaches into the glove box to pull out a black handgun, pushing a clip into place and double checking everything is in order. He then reaches into his pocket, double checks his wallet, and the badge that is secured to his belt buckle. I'm watching Everett in a whole new light, and it's surreal to me. I think I actually enjoy it, but it doesn't matter anymore, because he's no longer meant for me.
As he opens the door, I can't stop myself from whispering, "Be careful." He peeks back over at me, giving me a half smile, before shutting the door. I click the lock button on the truck and watch him go up the steps of the porch and knock on the front door. He peeks through a window, and seconds later the door opens up.
An older man dressed sharp greets him at the door with a smile on his face. They talk, and I watch as Everett flashes the badge on his belt. The smile never disappears off the older man, and he even moves out of the way to let Everett in.
Time appears to go at an achingly slow rate while waiting for Everett. I can count exactly thirteen cars that pass, one which beeps at a house in the distance. I know the pattern of the neighbors flowers along their house, and the fact their cat is a mix of black and white. I've discovered that Everett has a stash of Swiss Cake Rolls in his glove box. And I know if I don't pee soon, I'll probably have to pop a squat in the neighbor’s flowerbed.
Hearing a door shut loudly, I look up to see Everett racing down the steps. He is alone, which I assume means he didn't find Hillarie. He was in there a long time though, so I don't like the feeling. Nothing about this feels right.
I unlock the doo
r as he gets close. He hops inside, his cell phone already ringing someone. "Hey, it's me. Call for backup." He instantly hits end, and looks over at me. I don't want to hear what comes out of his mouth next. "Brenna..."
"No." I shake my head. "No, don't tell me."
He clears his throat, not wanting to say what I don't want to hear. "She isn't there, but after I roughed him up a bit, I finally got a location. We'll go to her when backup arrives. I need to brief them on the situation."
"So... she's okay?" That is all I want to know.
He shrugs, unable to answer me. "I know a location, that is all he was willing to tell me."
"Okay."
His hand reaches for mine, squeezing it in a comforting way.
"Thank you," I whisper. "For all of this." His only response is another soft squeeze.
His leg shakes drastically up and down while he waits for back up to arrive. They do after only a few minutes. Three cop cars, an SUV, and an ambulance. "Stay here," he says. Hoping out of the truck, he runs over to speak with a couple people while I wait.
When he hops back in, he immediately backs out of the drive. It's a quick ride but it's an undoubtedly a different part of town. There are more apartment buildings than homes, and most of them look condemned. The neighborhood makes me uncomfortable, and I hate the thought of Hillarie living in a place like this.
He pulls in front of a building and looks at the address, shaking his head. "Stay here again, please."
"Why this time?" I ask.
He sighs heavily. "Because again, I can't protect you if you're with me, not the way I want to be able to. Please?"
Looking around us, I don't like being out here alone, but I do understand where he is coming from. Plus, despite everything going on, I feel comforted over the thought of him actually wanting to protect me after everything. "Yeah," I sigh.
He leaves the truck and I lock it the moment he is gone again. This time the urge to pee is twice as bad, because I'm nervous and anxious more than before. He walks into the building without knocking.
While waiting for him, I look around. There is a convenient store adjacent to the building that has bars on the window. Two teenage guys with black hoodies stand outside of it smoking a joint. I glance around in other directions, and although there are a few people walking along the streets and cars passing through, it feels like this is a ghost town. It’s eerie, unlike where I live.
He isn't gone nearly as long this time, but I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not. When he climbs up into the truck this time, he leans towards me, pulling me into him. I know right then and there it isn't good. "I'm sorry, Brenna," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."
I sob against him. I'm not sure of what to say. I want to ask what he saw, I want to ask him the details, but all at the same time, I don't want to know a damn thing. I already know enough.
He allows me to cry against him for quite some time, all the while soothing me as he runs his hand up and down my back. Until someone taps their knuckles against the glass. He pulls back enough to roll down the window. Two officers stand there.
"Detective Burke?" One asks.
"Yes, sir."
"Where is she?"
He points to the building he came out of. "Third door to the right."
The officers both nod their head then walk towards the building. I watch as two EMTs walk after them with a stretcher.
"She's dead, isn't she?" I whisper.
There is a long pause, so I look up to him. He’s glaring at the door. Moisture evident, as if he’s trying desperately to hold back tears of his own. “Everett, please answer me.”
"Yeah, baby… she is."
I turn to stare at the building as well, tears still pouring from my eyes. I could have prevented this. I could have stopped all of this from happening. In reality, I may have even caused it by the stupid damn conversation I had with her this past week. I should have kept everything to myself. I shouldn't have forced her to say things when it wasn't safe.
A couple more officers walk into the building after a few minutes. My tears start to dry up as everything inside of me becomes numb. I’m finding a void taking over again, and this time I don’t think I have anything to make me feel better. Not for the long haul. "What do we do now?" I ask.
"They'll take care of everything. Does she have family around?"
"No." I shake my head. "I was all she had. Her mom died a year ago."
He squeezes my leg. "Can I do anything more, Brenna?"
Closing my eyes, I push his hand from my leg. I don't want him to treat me sweet. I don't want him touching me and being friendly, because when we get back home it's all over. I'm going to go with Kandy, and I'm never going to return. That seems to be my only option at this rate. I have no one left in life except her.
Shaking my head, I tell him, "I just need to use the restroom."
“I’m going to talk with this officer for a second, then we can go.”
“Am I able to come too this time?”
“You may not want to.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll hear the details of something which I wanted to avoid you knowing about.”
“Apparently you don’t know me that well. I can handle things just fine.” I open the door while he tries to argue, but I don’t listen to anything he says, slamming the door closed.
He walks to an officer, and I follow.
“Detective Burke. Nice to meet you, wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Officer Polly from Clearwater PD.”
They firmly shake hands. “Could say the same. This is Brenna Konners, a friend of the victim.”
He nods his head, “I’m sorry about your loss, Miss Konners.”
I give him a sad excuse for a smile, looking down until I hear him speak again, this time to Everett.
“It appears there were several locations of lacerations, with bruising around her neck. We’re treating it as a murder investigation at this point. You mentioned to Officer York that Travis Harding gave you her location? Did he mention anything more?”
“No, sir, it took a lot just to get the address from him.”
“So he didn’t admit to bringing her here, selling her, or confess to her murder?”
“Selling her?”
“This address, unfortunately, has been known on several occasions for running a sex ring. It isn’t the first casualty we’ve had to pull from the home. We’ve done all we can at this point, and in time, hopefully it’ll be stopped altogether.”
Everything about that statement causes my skin to crawl. The worse imaginable images cross through my mind, and I’m sickened beyond belief. My poor Hillarie. I hate myself so incredibly much for not saving her.
“That is unfortunate to hear. And no, he didn’t admit to any of those.”
“Well, he is number one in our investigation. He’s been arrested, and we’ll keep you updated on the results. Please don’t leave the state, nor you miss.” The officer looks at me.
“Me? Why me?” I ask, completely perplexed.
“We’ll need you for questioning,” Officer Polly answers.
“I can give you everything I know right now.”
“It doesn’t work like, ma’am. I apologize. I know this situation is hard on you, and maybe we’ll get a confession from Travis, but until then you’re still a suspect.”
“A suspect?” I look up to Everett, ignoring the ignorance of Officer Polly. “This is bullshit. This is why I fucking hate cops.” I turn around and walk towards his truck, not waiting for anything more.
He doesn't say anything when he gets into the truck minutes later, and I don't even hear a sound for a few seconds. Then the truck starts to roll as he pulls away from the curb. I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the cool glass, not opening them until he parks the truck once more at a McDonald's. I go inside, still not saying anything to Everett. After I use the restroom, I buy myself a drink because I'm no longer hungry, then I get back into the cab of his pickup. He do
esn't say a word to me either.
The entire six hours home is silent. Not one word is spoken, all we have is the hum of the radio, which he was nice enough to change to an oldies rock station.
When we do get to the building, I hop out of the truck, double check that my car is locked, then head inside. Everett pauses inside the lobby as I head towards the elevators. "Brenna..." I stop but refuse to turn and look at him. "Do you want to stay over tonight?" He asks. Adding in, "I have a spare room. You don't have to be alone tonight."
I shake my head. "I'm better off alone. I think we both know that."
I continue towards the elevator, pressing the button to head upstairs. As the door opens, he whisper-yells with an crushed voice, just loud enough for me to hear. "I still love you, Brenna."
But it's too late. It's all too late. Life isn't as easy as I love you's and I'm sorry's. It's hard and painful. There is beauty in the world, but there is twice as much pain.
Three Years Later
Brenna
"I can't believe you're going to be twenty four tomorrow," Ginger announces. Rounding the corner, she grins happily at me. "You look radiant by the way."
"I guess it's a part of getting old." I laugh, because during Ginger’s last birthday she burst into tears about being old. Then we went out and drank martinis all night on Walter Fletcher Beach in Jamaica, where she realized she'll always be young at heart.
Sitting down in the chair behind me, she watches as I line my eyes in thick black eyeliner. "Where are you going tonight?"
"Staying in, actually."
"Wow, changing things up I see."
"Funny," I say back equally as sarcastic.
"Just saying. That's all you seem to do. Get all dolled up to sit on the couch and watch some stupid, lame movie. You're turning twenty four, you should be doing shots off the bodies of young, rippled men."
Tossing my eyeliner into my container of makeup, I turn around to face Ginger. "Not saying I won't have plenty of fun nights like that in the future, but right now, I'm content where I am in life."