Alpha Foxtrot_Offensive Line

by Tracey Ward

  “I got it,” Shane tells me amiably.

  “No!”

  He freezes halfway off his stool. “What’s with you?” he chuckles.

  His smile fades when he sees my face. I can’t cover the dread I feel. It’s written in my eyes and I let Shane read it. Every word.

  “Who’s at the door?” he asks quietly. His voice is low. Deep. I’ve never heard him speak like that so I have no idea what it means, but it makes goosebumps burst out over my skin.

  “Sutton, who is it?”

  “It’s Eric,” I confess without feeling.

  Shane’s face darkens dangerously. It’s amazing how fast the light leaves him. He’s at once jealous and territorial. “What is he doing here?”

  “That’s a really good question.”

  “I’m looking for an answer, Sutton.”

  “Me too. Just sit. Stay right there. I’ll deal with it.”

  “What are you dealing with? Why would he come here in the middle of the night like this?”

  I look at him hard. “You know why.”

  Shane sits down heavily on the stool. His face is a swarm of shadow, his normally brilliant eyes as dark as midnight. “Got it,” he replies numbly.

  I want to reach out to him. I want to hold him and kiss him and tell him that it’s nothing. That it was never anything but ugly.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  But first I have to make the asshole go away.

  “Give me a minute,” I tell Shane.

  “Just tell me one thing first,” he says quietly. “Who’s intruding here tonight? Me or him?”

  I feel like he’s knocked the air out of me. It hurts to hear him ask that.

  “Him,” I answer firmly. “He’s always been unwelcome. Always.”

  Shane nods stiffly. He’s not looking at me but he’s done asking questions.

  I storm out of the kitchen to the front door with murder on my mind. I don’t open the door. I don’t want to see him, I don’t want him to see me, and I sure as shit don’t want him to see Shane. The look on Shane’s face has me on edge. I’m not sure what he’ll do if he’s face-to-face with Eric right now. The absolute worst thing I can imagine is that he’d leave.

  Knock. Knock.—

  “What?” I demand through the door.

  Eric hesitates. “Sutton?”

  “Who else would it be?”

  “I don’t—”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to see you.”

  “No.”

  He waits for me to say more, but I won’t. He wants an explanation but he can get fucked. I don’t owe him anything.

  “Are you going to open the door?” he asks quietly.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want you here. Go home.”

  “You’re my home, Roe.”

  “Fuck you,” I scoff. “I’m sure you say that to your wife too. It’s a tired line.”

  “You want me to leave her?” he asks, his voice gaining strength. “Is that what’s wrong with you lately?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Baby,” he coos sadly, “we both know that’s not true.”

  His words, his knowledge of me, they cut me down in an instant. The hot air of my anger is deflated from my body, leaving me limp and spineless.

  I let my head fall hard against the door. My eyes close as I bang it gently against the cold surface. “Just go away, Eric.”

  “I don’t want to lose you, Roe.”

  “You never had me.”

  “That’s not true either.”

  “It’s over. I told you I never wanted it in the first place.”

  “Sutton, open the door.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You don’t know what you want.” He goes silent for a second and I think maybe he’s leaving. Maybe he’s giving up. But then he says, “You’re thinking about Garret again, aren’t you?”, and I think I’ll throw up on the door.

  I feel tears sting my eyes. They’re like needles filled with poison. I think I’ll go blind from the rage of them. “Don’t talk about him. Please.”

  “He’s important, baby. He made you the way you are. He broke you, but you know I can put you back together. Just open the door.”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” he insists. “You’re confused. Let me see you. Let me talk to you about this. I just want to talk.”

  He’s lying. Men always lie. Or they tell the truth and it’s so ugly, you wonder why they didn’t do you the courtesy of lying to you.

  I’m shaking scared. I’m sick to my stomach, hiccupping on fear and hate. My stomach clenches painfully as I gag on a sob of so much ugly I can’t bear it. I can’t stand me and my body that he’s touched. Kissed. Licked. Fucked. Used. That’s what I am. I’m used up. I’m twenty-one and I’m nothing but a cold condom forgotten on the floor.

  A warm hand touches my shoulder gently. Shane turns me away from the door. He looks down at me with that darkness in his eyes and his hand on the knob, and I think this is it. He’s done with me. He’s leaving.

  He holds my eyes for one inscrutable moment before yanking the door open hard. I’m hidden safely behind it. I can’t see Eric’s expression but I recognize the shock in his voice when he comes face-to-face with Shane.

  “You,” he says simply.

  “Yeah,” Shane growls. “Me.”

  “I didn’t know—”

  “She’s made it clear, man. She doesn’t want you here. Go home.”

  “I came to talk about the show. We have—”

  “You’re not here about the show. You’re here to fuck her.”

  Eric pauses, adjusting his tactic to Shane’s attitude. “I guess I missed my time slot. It’s a busy apartment.”

  “Watch yourself.”

  “Or what? You’ll hit me?”

  “You come around here harassing her again and I’ll do a lot more than hit you.”

  Eric takes his time responding. I hold my breath in the silence, watching the white-knuckled grip Shane has on the door.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want that, would I?” Eric asks quietly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Shane doesn’t answer. He stands stone still waiting for Eric to decide how this night ends. I can see it in the hard set of his jaw that Shane is up for anything. It can end well or it can go very badly. It’s all the same to him. He’s game.

  Eric is not. Shane’s eyes track him as he moves away. He waits for a good ten seconds, probably until Eric is in the elevator, before he closes the door. He throws every lock on it before his shoulders relax.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathe.

  Shane looks at me with a surprised frown. “Why are you sorry?”

  “I didn’t tell you.”

  “Have you been with him since we—”

  “No.”

  “Then it was none of my business.”

  “It started last year but it’d been building for a couple of years before that.”

  “Sutton, you don’t have to explain it to me.”

  I ignore his protests because I’m not doing it for him. I’m saying it for me. I want to purge this pill that I swallowed because it’s been killing me slowly. I’ll feel better to have it out. I’ll be humiliated. I’ll be ashamed. I’ll hate every second of talking about it, but when it’s over, when it’s all out, I’ll be stronger. I have to be. I need to be because I can’t keep going the way I am. I’ll never survive myself.

  “I didn’t get emancipated from my parents because of the money,” I admit anxiously. I’m having trouble meeting his eyes. My heart is in my throat, beating slow. “I did it because when I was sixteen my mom convinced me to have sex with a thirty-seven year old director.”

  Shane stares at me blankly. “The hell,” he mutters.

  “He was planning a production of Les Mis,” I continue without thinking. It’s the only way to get through it. Thinking means remembering and remembe
ring is feeling and feeling is agony. “It was my dream. My entire life I’d wanted to be in Les Misérables. I was desperate to do it. I auditioned three times and Garret said it was down to me and another girl but he couldn’t decide. He said he was torn. He needed help making a decision.”

  Shane runs his hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “I don’t think you should tell me the—”

  “My mom told me what he wanted. She knew. She’d been through it. She grew up in the theater. She said I was lucky he was attractive. A lot of the men she’d slept with were older and uglier. She said I should be grateful I had it so easy. I didn’t feel lucky. I wanted the part so bad I could taste it, but I wasn’t sure I could do what I had to do to get it. I wasn’t a virgin but I wasn’t very experienced either. The idea of sleeping with a strange man scared the shit out of me.

  “Mom told me that if I didn’t do it, the other girl would and I’d be out of luck. She said landing that part would launch my adult career. I could stop doing kid’s shows and start the next part of my life. She said I needed something and he needed something, and if we could help each other out, we’d both be happy in the end.” I shrug but it turns in to a shake I feel down to my core, chilling me like I’ve been dropped in an ice bath. “It was only one time. It was in a nice hotel room. My mom bought me a beautiful yellow dress and took me to the salon beforehand. I felt… I felt grown up. I told myself I was taking care of my business, the way all women do.”

  “Did she make you work with him afterward?” Shane asks tightly.

  “No. I never made it to the production, but I went to the hotel. We had sex.”

  “Fuuuck,” Shane groans, rocking back on his heels. He takes a step away from me, his hands on his hips. His head down.

  “When I left, he said I got it. We were going to start working a month later, but I couldn’t sleep that night. I felt sick. No matter what my mom was telling me, I knew what had just happened.” I lick my lips, tasting salt tears I didn’t know I was crying. “I knew I was raped.”

  “And that son of a bitch,” he points angrily at the door, “he knows about this?”

  “I told Eric about it two years after I got to L.A. When I got on the show, we hit it off right away. He treated me like an adult. He asked my opinion on things and he respected it. It felt good to be seen as an equal, for once. We started flirting. It was innocent at first but it got serious fast. It was like something had to happen or we’d both go insane, and then it did and I felt sick with myself. I felt like I was making the same mistake all over again. He’s older, he’s my boss, he’s married. It always felt so good when it was happening, like scratching an itch, but I felt like shit afterward. I cried every time. I hated myself. I hated him. I told him I never wanted to do it again but Eric said it would always happen because we’re meant for each other. He’s told me a thousand times that he loves me.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “No,” I laugh shakily. “I’m a masochist but I’m not an idiot.”

  Shane stands still, his eyes on the floor. He’s thinking. It’s a lot to process and I’m relieved I got through it all without him running out the door away from me. He still might. I wouldn’t blame him. But he’s made it this far and that’s more than I would expect from anyone.

  “I don’t know what to do with any of this,” he admits, his voice rich with emotion. He looks at me with an open expression that shows me the frustration, rage, and sorrow that’s brewing inside him. I hate that I put it there. That I fed him the poison I’m so desperate to purge. “All I want to do is hug the absolute shit out of you but I’m worried that’s the exact opposite of what I’m supposed to do.”

  I smile faintly. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to do either, but I would never say no to your arms.”

  “Get over here,” he demands gently.

  I step into his embrace with a sigh of relief that I feel down into my toes. His warmth caresses me inside and out. It dries my eyes. It evaporates the tears from my cheeks. It washes away the dirt and grime that hides in my heart until I feel fresh. Not clean. I’ll probably never feel clean again, but I don’t feel half as sullied when he holds me.

  “Don’t ever tell me Garret’s full name,” Shane pleads quietly, his mouth pressed against the top of my head. “I’ll fucking murder him if I know and I’ll end up in jail and you’ll have to come visit me every Friday to tell me how my Kodiaks are doing.”

  “Oh, Shane,” I sigh sadly. “There’s no way I’m watching football. Not even for you.”

  He chuckles, leaning back to look down into my eyes. “You are the most stone cold bitch I’ve ever met in my life, Sutton, and I want you to take that as a compliment because that’s how I mean it. You are a badass bitch.”

  “I thought I was a devil.”

  He kisses my forehead before pulling me against him again. “You’re everything, baby.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SHANE

  June 6th

  KBC Studios

  Los Angeles, CA

  Tomorrow is the fifth show of the season. The halfway point. Sutton and I are still hanging steady at the top of the pack, though last week after our Tango to Sorry Not Sorry, we slipped down a notch. We’re number two under Brett and Ana. They brought the house down with an emotional Waltz that legit made Milan cry. She’s a softy. She goes nuts for anything that’s ‘lovely’. Sutton says I need to be patient. Our Waltz will come and when it does, Milan will ugly cry again. But this week we’re focused on impressing Desmond with our Jazz routine.

  I lay back on the floor of the studio, throwing my arms high over my head to stretch my body out. “What a glorious morning.”

  Sutton glares down at me from the ballet barre. “I thought we agreed yesterday that you were done doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “You know exactly what.”

  “I can’t help it, Sutton. I feel so glorious. Don’t you?”

  “I will change the song. I swear to God.”

  “Don’t,” I laugh. “I’ll stop. I like the song. And besides, I told my mom it’s the one we’re dancing to. She already downloaded it so she can be ready.”

  “Do you immediately call your mom about everything we’re doing on the show?”

  She’s giving me shit again because I call my mom after each episode. We dissect the other dances and talk trash about the judges. Mom hates Desmond. She thinks he’s a ‘poser’. Her words, not mine, but when I told Sutton her summation of the guy, she laughed at how right my mom got it. It endeared Mom to Sutton immediately, and that made me happier than I can admit out loud.

  “Oh, yeah. For sure,” I answer Sutton now. “She’d kill me if I didn’t. She’s obsessed.”

  “Why hasn’t she come out for a filming until now?”

  “Because she wanted to come to the Super Bowl ring ceremony too.”

  “Right,” she mumbles, switching legs. “I forgot about that.”

  I sit up straight to look her in the eyes. “Are you bailing?”

  “No. I just forgot is all. It’s a busy week.”

  “Well, write it down. It’s a big deal.”

  “I understand that.”

  “And you’re excited about it,” I say sarcastically.

  Sutton looks down at me impatiently. “You know why I’m nervous about going.”

  “I know you’re nervous for no reason.”

  “People are going to assume we’re hooking up if we go to a party together. With your mother.”

  “We are hooking up.”

  “And I don’t want anyone to know that.”

  “And I try to pretend that that’s not a really hurtful thing to say.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. We’re still in the competition and I don’t want anything to mess with that.”

  “People thought that you and Jace were boning and you said the rumors helped you win.”

  “Yeah, and because of that I don’t want anyone thinking I
’m sleeping with you too. They’ll think I’m a slut who falls into bed with every partner she has.”

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?” I ask heavily. “You’re worried about what it will look like if you’re sleeping with your partner? Or do you regret—”

  “No,” she answers immediately. She meets my eyes in the mirror, holding them steady with the seriousness of her expression. “I don’t regret it. And before you ask, I don’t want to stop.”

  “Good,” I grin. “because I don’t think I can stop.”

  She smiles softly, affection brewing in her stormy, gray eyes. “Neither can I.”

  I lick my lips, feeling my pulse quicken. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

  “I do too, but someone could come in at any time. And they’ll probably have cameras.”

  “Perverts.”

  She laughs, turning away from me to focus on her stretching.

  I stay where I’m sitting, focusing on her ass.

  It’s magic hearing her laugh like that. It’s so free and unafraid. She’s still a bitch most of the time, I doubt she’ll ever stop, but I’m good with it. I understand it better now than I did before.

  I always liked Sutton, even when I thought she was utterly unlikeable, but now that I know where her aggression is coming from, I’m proud of her for it. What her mom put her through was unimaginable. I try not to think about it because I just get angry every time. I tried to stop her from telling me everything the other night. Not because I was disgusted or thought any less of her for it, but because I wasn’t sure I could handle it. The anger that I felt toward her mom, that piece of shit director, and Eric was blinding. I had to stop myself from running out of the apartment to chase Eric down and kick his ass into the hospital.

  Sutton told him everything she told me. She told him she didn’t want to get involved with him from the start, and that asshole still pursued her because he saw the weakness there. He’s been exploiting her for a year. She was legit shaking when she told him to go. She couldn’t even open the door to face him because she’s so shaken by the idea of him, so I know she understands what he’s been doing to her. She definitely wants it to stop and I’m glad I was there to help her make that clear to him. It hurt to see my lioness brought low like that, but it’s comforting to see how much strength she still has in her. It’s not a solid thing. It’s not a stone that can be cracked when it’s battered for too long. Her power is pliable. It bends and gives without snapping, like a tree in the wind. The world will not break her. She’ll change with the seasons, adapting to every storm, but when it’s passed she’ll still be standing. I think women are just like that.