Rivers

by S. L. Scott

  “So you don’t go out much?” I ask, sitting next to Rivers while watching a travel show.

  “Not as much as I used to. Fame sounds fun until you’re in the middle of it.”

  “But you said yes to my event.”

  The back of his hand taps my leg, drawing my attention. “I’ll go for you.”

  “It’s tomorrow night, but if you really don’t want to, I’ll understand.”

  His hand slides up my leg and covers my entire knee and more. I love it. “I want to support you. I’ll be there.”

  “Because you love me,” I tease.

  “Exactly,” he replies, not teasing at all. “Did you get enough to eat?”

  I eye the paper plate on the coffee table. Only crumbs are left of the pizza. “Too much. I’m stuffed.”

  “I like all these toos with you.” Resting his arm across the back of the couch, he turns sideways to face me. “Meadow came over this morning.”

  “She got her car all right?”

  “Yeah, but she stayed a few minutes, and we talked.”

  That gets my full attention. Adjusting my back against the armrest, I stretch my legs out. “About?”

  He starts rubbing my feet, and it feels so good I won’t argue. “You mostly.”

  “Me?”

  “I didn’t tell her anything, but should you?”

  “No.”

  “She knows something happened, that something affected you deeply enough to change parts of you.”

  Lying back, I stare at the ceiling. “She knows I was dealing with my father’s problems.”

  When he stops rubbing, my gaze makes its way back to him. “She knows I know.”

  “How?” I sit up and swing my legs down. Standing up, I walk to the front window and look out.

  “Well, despite you thinking I’m the best liar in the world, I’m really not. She could read my face.”

  I turn around and swirl my finger in front of my face. “Well, don’t let your face tell her anything. She can never know. I don’t want her to feel guilty or worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “Will be?”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re picking apart my words. Let’s just drop it.”

  “Have you talked to a therapist before?”

  “Stop it!” I hate myself for raising my voice the second the words rage from my throat. Trying to even my tone, I struggle not to grit my teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it.” My anger pushes tears into my eyes. “I don’t want to relive it right now, not with you. I do it every other night. Please let me have a reprieve.”

  He pushes off the couch and comes to me. Holding me so gently by the face. “I want to give you that. I want to be that place of comfort for you.”

  “But?”

  His hands go back to his sides, and he looks away. “There are no buts.” Walking into the kitchen, he stops on the other side of the bar, and says, “You don’t see it, but I do. I’ve been there, Stella. You’ll be your downfall, but it won’t be just yourself you take with you. It will be everything you care about—Meadow. Me. Your career.”

  Crossing my arms defensively over my chest, I ask, “What do you want from me?”

  “It’s not about what I want. You’re here. I have everything I need. It’s about what will heal you. Have you talked to your dad?”

  “It’s getting late. I have to get up early.”

  “It’s eight fifteen.”

  “This is messing with my routine.”

  “I thought I was worth breaking your routine.”

  “Stop turning this around on me, Rivers, or I’m going home.”

  His stare is steady as he measures me. The extended pause is purposely long. I’m tempted to fill the empty space, the silence, but I hold my tongue, forcing him to make the next move. He takes a dishtowel and starts mindlessly wiping the bar while still watching me. His hand stops, and he leans forward on his palms. “If you’d prefer to go home, then you should do what feels right.”

  “Why are you doing this? We were having a good time.”

  “Was that all, Stella? A good time?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to stay and break your routine. For me. I want you to answer questions that, as someone who loves you, I have a right to know. I want you to let me in all the way so we can move forward together or we’re no better off than we were a few days ago.”

  “That’s a lot to ask of me.”

  “And less than I want.” He comes around the bar and rubs my upper arms. “I don’t want fragments of you. I want all of you, but I want you whole.” Tilting his head to the side, he comes even closer. “When I said I love you, I meant it. Not just because of the sex, but because you are a part of me. I’ve said it before. You’re in my blood, baby. I’ll take you however I can get you, but you’ll never be happy until you release some of the pain you’re holding so tightly. I’m yours, Stella, so please allow me to carry your heart as well.”

  I don’t turn and leave. I don’t run away, though my flight instinct is kicking in more than my fight. I stand there feeling exposed in ways that make me uncomfortable. But when I look into his eyes, I know he’s right, so I don’t hide. I don’t put up walls. I show him all of me, all of the ugly parts. Moving into his arms, I let him embrace all the broken pieces of me.

  26

  Stella

  My passion for teaching has faded. The days are long, and the tension is growing between Brian and me. I feel it filling the halls I once loved walking down. I see it in his eyes when we’re in the same vicinity.

  Although I’m tired after spending the night with Rivers, I take the long way to the teacher’s lounge to avoid the administration office when I need coffee during my free period. I ate my lunch in my car, needing the peace of this little haven.

  Sasha has been a great help, sending me the dance committee theme idea list, which I nixed burlesque from immediately, and gave my approval to masquerade and dress as your favorite celebrity. I’ll let them decide from there.

  Josh Baird, on the other hand, has been staring at me all period. I’m not sure how to handle him. His parents practically own this school, and he knows how to lie through his teeth to suck up to authority. Except me. I’m not sure why he feels so emboldened, but I need to end his disrespect or have him removed from my class.

  The bell rings, and the class shuffles out. Since the banquet is tonight, I worked while eating lunch and through my free period so I have time to go home and get dressed. I wish I could blow this off to spend time with Rivers.

  His words may have felt harsh last night, but I needed to hear them. They came from a place of care and concern, something I haven’t had anyone do for me since him. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed him until that moment when he took me into his arms and held me close. I’ll take you however I can get you, but you’ll never be happy until you release some of the pain you’re holding on to so tightly. I’m all yours, Stella, so please allow me to carry your heart as well. I felt cushioned. Embraced. Held.

  Not to discount Meadow, but I don’t want her view of the world tainted by my experiences. She has too much potential to waste it worrying about me.

  I stand and shove my laptop into my bag when I notice my latest nuisance standing on the other side of the desk. I look up and give Josh a death glare. He’s getting a warning, but I’m not afraid to follow through. “What is it?”

  His hands go up like he’s an innocent caught in my wrath. “Whoa, Ms. Fellowes.”

  “I don’t have time to deal with your antics. What do you want?”

  I regret it the second I say it.

  His posture is bold. He’s big as he stands before me, using every inch of his body to intimidate me. “What do I want? Hmm.” His devious grin rattles me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared.

  “Leave my classroom.” I point toward the door. “And shut the door behind you.”

  “Wow.” He struts to
ward the door, and mutters under his breath, “Not even a please or thank you. Ungrateful bitch.”

  The earth shifts under my feet, and I grab the desk to steady me. “What did you say?”

  He stops and looks back over his shoulder. “Have fun tonight.”

  “What does that mean?”

  When he steps into the hallway, I almost run after him, shake him, and force him to talk to me, but I’m smart enough to know to let him go. For my own safety and his.

  Taking my bag, I swing it onto my shoulder and head to my car. As soon as I’m inside, I lock the doors, start the car, and turn the music on so loud that no one can hear me scream. My throat hurts, and my water bottle is empty, but the scratchy ache blocks the edge of fear I felt.

  I look up and see one of the science teachers staring at me from inside her car, which is parked in front of mine. I wave and then reverse my car to get the hell out of here.

  Am I losing my mind?

  Is my mind playing tricks on me?

  Have fun tonight. Why would he say that?

  I stop at a light and look down to discover my skirt and shirt are wet. Pulling the visor down, I pop open the mirror and my face is streaked from tears.

  How did I not feel it?

  How did I not know?

  I touch my cheek but feel nothing.

  Numb.

  Thinking about Rivers and what we talked about last night, I realize I’m so used to safeguarding myself from the memory that it lives in the recesses inside me. The events that took place still exist. They’re just usually buried in my nightmares.

  I scroll to find Rivers’s number in my recent calls but am honked at before I have a chance to call. When I start driving I bear down on the pedal ready to be home. It only takes a few minutes, but it feels like forever being trapped in this car, withering in the stifling turmoil.

  My thoughts are crazed, my hands shaking. I pull up to my place and throw my car into park. Running inside, I shut the door and lean against it. I haven’t told Rivers how I was treated once I’d given my body to pay off the debt. I couldn’t tell him how I was slapped across the mouth, and I told him to fuck off. The utter helplessness and shame of having three men watch as I took off my underwear and was forced to spin so they got the full view. He can’t know. He’d never love me the same.

  I reach under my arm and lock the door before shoving off and forcing my feet forward. My body is heavy as though lead weights are wrapped around my ankles. I fall to my bed, lying on my back with my feet hanging off.

  My phone rings in the other room, but I can’t be tasked to move. I tug my covers on either side of me and wrap myself up. Closing my eyes, I want to forget, keep the secret buried like it had been before Rivers showed up. I didn’t have to answer to anyone or field questions. I could work, sleep . . . work and sleep without being seen.

  I had become invisible in my life, all because of a choice I made.

  I expected a black car with tinted windows so dark no one could see inside. What I got is a green Toyota Camry with car seats in the back. Brown rolls down the driver’s window, and says, “Sorry, the other car’s in the shop. Sit between the seats. They’re a bitch to get back in, so leave them where they are.”

  There are no guns aimed at me or pomp and circumstance. Yellow is in the passenger’s seat violating me with his eyes. Both men are dressed casually. I don’t know why I expected more of a movie scenario when my life feels on the line. “Get in,” Brown says, this time with less patience than before. “Or we’ll be late, and it won’t be me who pays the price for keeping the boss waiting.”

  I’m not sure how it can get worse, but I get in, not willing to test them. I open the door and climb over the one seat before falling into the small space between the car seats. I’m wearing the thin, stretchy dress and high-heeled shoes that were delivered. While getting dressed, I pretended I was reenacting a scene from Pretty Woman, but my story won’t have a fairy-tale ending.

  A pink stuffed bunny is sticking out from under the seat. I reach down and pull it out, holding it in my lap. Yellow watches me in the mirror of his visor. The color of his teeth makes me think that’s how he got his name. My heart starts beating harder in my chest when I realize their boss didn’t specify who was going to have sex with me or how many.

  My grip on the rabbit tightens, and my mind flits through every possible scenario to prepare myself for the worst case. There is no preparing for the unknown.

  I look out the window and see a billboard along the highway.

  The Crow Brothers – Austin’s Own: Opening for The Resistance. LIVE in Houston and San Antonio.

  They look good. Healthy. Happy. The promo photo is so professional. My Rivers looks handsome . . . I catch myself and rethink the thought.

  He’s not mine to claim.

  Time has treated him well, by all appearances. No doubt I’m just a long-forgotten face amongst a sea of many women. Just a girl before Naomi and never to be touched again.

  The billboard is long gone, but the image is burned into my mind. Even though he left, threw us away, he was wise to get out when he did. Imagine if he had to live through what I’m about to do. I’d lose him anyway.

  We turn off just north of downtown and pull into a gas station. Yellow throws a blindfold at me. “Put it on,” he grunts.

  I glare for a moment before he raises the back of his hand at me. The red bandanna won’t hide the skyline from me. I know this city like the back of my hand, but I am not willing to risk getting Meadow or my father hurt. They’re why I’m doing this.

  I tie the scarf around my eyes and pull it tight to show them it’s secure before sitting back and holding the bunny again. The brightness of the sun is eclipsed minutes later, and darkness fills the back of my lids. It sounds like a parking garage.

  The tires squeal as Brown makes a sharp turn, and then the car comes to a stop. The bandanna is yanked off my head and sunglasses are handed to me. “Put these on and do not look anywhere other than down.”

  The sunglass lenses are pure black. No light can be seen through them or anything else. Brown takes my arm and pulls a little too hard when I stumble over the car seat and onto the cement garage floor.

  I’m led by the elbow to an elevator. When it dings, we step inside. Through the sides of the glasses, there are only five buttons for floors—twenty-five to thirty. Penthouses. Money. Dirty money.

  A card is pressed to a black pad, and the button for the top floor lights up. My head is pet from behind, and I jump. I know from the proximity of his shoes it’s Yellow, which I’m coming to realize matches his chicken-bellied soul.

  The door slides open, and I’m guided straight into a living room. The glasses are pulled from my face. I don’t have time to appreciate the vast view of the city and the Lady Bird Lake before Brown says, “The bathroom is down there.”

  “I don’t need the bathroom.”

  “Go to the bathroom, clean your body in the shower, and put on the robe and nothing else. Do not get your hair wet and leave it down when you come out. You have five minutes before we come in there and do it for you.”

  I should be scared, but I’m struggling to pull the fear forth with so much anger coursing through me. Before I say something I’ll regret, I walk toward the hall and find the bathroom on the left. The plush peach robe hangs from a modern brass hook on what looks to be very expensive teak walls. The glass enclosed shower takes up a large portion of the bathroom, which is odd, considering it’s not attached to a bedroom. Custom job, I assume. Fit for a scumbag who insists his victims shower before fucking them. Dual showerheads hang high on the ceiling ready to rain down. It’s going to be hard to keep my hair dry.

  Looking around, I find a clip for my hair and use it after getting undressed. The billboard comes to mind as I lather the perfumed shower gel over my body. What would Rivers think of me now? Would he feel sorry for me, think I’m pathetic, or would he rush in to save the day? My gut says the latter.

  Could
I have called him and asked for the money? He’s famous now with a hit record. He might have the money, or he might not.

  I pat my body off quickly and slip on the robe. The clip is removed and my hair tumbles down over my shoulders. I pull my underwear back on because fuck them. The door is opened when I reach for it and Yellow licks the front of his teeth as he gawks at me. “Put the shoes on. He’s ready.”

  “Who?”

  “None of your fucking business. Stop asking questions or you’ll get answers you’re not wanting.”

  I don’t know what that means, but that fear I didn’t have earlier now fills every ounce of my being as I slip on the heels again. I’m in over my head, and I know it. At one time in my life, I would have called him to help me. But he left and isn’t here to shoulder any stupidity of mine. Or my father’s.

  But maybe he’d answer.

  If his number is the same . . .

  If he’s available . . .

  If he’s not seeing someone else . . .

  I’m led to an office, not a bedroom. I don’t know why I feel relieved, but I suddenly feel I might be given a chance to make a deal, to change my fate, to repent and be given an opportunity to get the money. To make a phone call. Just one. He’d take my call, wouldn’t he?

  My hope sinks to my feet when I’m brought around to the other side of the desk and the leather wingback is rolled out of the way. Brown points to an X marked with masking tape on the wood floors. “Stand there and hand me the robe.”

  “What?”

  His expression reminds me of what Yellow said—no questions. I release a shaky breath and remove the robe. Brown’s mouth purses as agitation sets in when he sees my panties. “Why’d you have to go and do that?”

  Regret rushes my veins, and I reach down to try to remove them, but a door in the corner opens and a man walks in. “It’s fine. Leave them.”

  If I were in any other situation, the man who enters the room would be described as distinguished or even handsome. His gray hair is full and styled, his suit tailored to a body he takes care of by the flat stomach and muscles that wield the fine light fabric.