“Oh, no, you didn’t.”
Finding the strength, I forced myself up onto my elbows in time to see the grand dame haul back and slug Dash so hard he spun around and fell back against his overpriced gas guzzler. He slid down the side of the passenger door, glassy- eyed. Violet yanked off her diamond and chucked it at him, nailing him on the forehead and leaving an impressive gouge. A standing ovation erupted amongst the smokers. Violet knelt beside me, dabbing at my lip.
Flicking her still lit cigarette at his crotch, the Countessa had the last word. “Nobody lays a finger on Jayse Monroe at my club!”
Just before my smack down with Jayse, I’d spent some of my therapy session discussing him. The self-destructive turn he’d taken was eating at me like an aggressive form of cancer. He and I had bonded instantly when I answered an ad on the Craig’s List for a roommate. We both had the same snarky humor. I was self-depreciating, and he was a narcissist; it was a match made in hell. I’d voiced my concerns to him, and he’d shit all over me. He was fronting, and I was so over it, I could scream. Jayse was like family, the kind you want to have, not the one forced upon you. Fighting with him made me feel isolated. Though I tried hard to act like it didn’t bother me, I felt like he had cast me aside.
My shrink, Dr. Wilson, seemed to find my relationship with Jayse mere entertainment. The Doc was a mind-blowing contradiction. She was a tiny slip of a woman with a sweet sounding voice, but she was rough as sandpaper. Not one for those touchy-feely methods, she was a straight shooter, perhaps too much so. It wasn’t uncommon for her to flat-out roll her dark eyes while I was talking, and I often wondered where the hell she got her medical license. She had been especially short-fused with me today.
“Alright, alright. Let’s skip the thirty minute conversation about Jayse’s problems. He doesn’t pay my bill. Let’s talk about you, Annie.”
I shrugged. “School’s good. Work’s okay.”
She went for the jugular. “How are things with Sam?”
I uttered a surprised laugh. Then I took a huge breath. “He asked me to move in.”
Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”
“I told him I’d think about it.” She looked at me like she wanted to smother me with a couch cushion. My meetings with her often had this aftertaste. It was a bit like having a friend who had no choice but to listen to me…and who got paid to remind me of it.
“Do you love him?” She folded her arms and dared me to lie to her.
I huffed. “Of course. I told you so.”
“Well then, what’s the problem? What are you afraid of?” she snapped impatiently. Normally I would have chewed her out and called her an unprofessional bitch, but I was feeling a bit fragile. My brother had texted me. He said my mom had borrowed Gram and Gramp’s silver bullet camper and didn’t bring it back last weekend as promised. I wondered if she was in Reno yet.
“I…I’m not sure. I guess I’m afraid that these feelings I have for him will fade. That the more he gets to know me, the less he’ll like me.” My voice cracked a little on the last word. Dr. Wilson exhaled with obvious exasperation and ran her hands through her short dark hair as if she were trying to keep her brain from exploding.
I thought back to the week after I told my grandparents about Travis touching me. My mom showed up at my school and told me that she loved Travis too much to make him leave. She couldn’t let me come home again. I cried all day thinking I was being kicked out on the streets…wondering if my grandparents would take me in. Wondering if I’d have to leave my school and my friends and move to live with them.
Later that afternoon, Mom came back and said that Travis told her to ‘keep her fucking princess.’ He left her. Consumed with relief, I remember thinking my terror was over, and I was overjoyed that I got to stay. Looking back, it might have been a blessing if I hadn’t. Instead, it was another two years before I ended up with my grandparents, and I’d spent a lot of that time raising Becca and Dylan. But the fact that Mom’s go-to place was to kick me to the curb followed me like a shadow. Jesus! I was her baby. She carried me inside her, and she just used me like a bargaining chip against my dad and then tossed me aside like a used tampon.
“Maybe I’m afraid I’m unlovable.” I added, forcing myself to meet her eyes. The look on her face when I said it told me I’d struck a chord.
“You are far from unlovable, Annabelle. But I want to answer your other concerns: yes, these feelings will fade and yes, the more he gets to know you, the more he’ll get tired of your shit. That’s the natural progression out of the honeymoon phase. But that’s normal and healthy, believe it or not.”
Our time was up right after that. I can’t say I felt any more at ease after than I had walking into her office. I went home and got ready for the gallery opening and ran into Jayse on my way out. I tried to keep it casual, but it blew up in my face almost immediately.
All the way to Sam’s, I rewound and replayed my fight with Jayse, fighting the menace of threatening tears. It wasn’t the first time we’d resorted to name calling in the past few weeks, and most likely wouldn’t be the last. Sure, he’d pissed me off and hurt me, but I refused to mess up my make-up because of that little shit.
I parked my car across from the Lowden Building. Sam’s new place was impressive in every way. With over twelve hundred square feet of renovated space, his condo was nearly as big as any house I’d lived in. Blonde wood floors, white painted brick walls, and corrugated metal ceilings made it the kind of place I had always dreamed of owning, but never really believed I’d set foot in. I nodded at the doorman and climbed on the elevator. By the time I set foot inside his building, I was jonesing like an addict for the kind of therapy only Sam Beaumont could give me.
He lit up when he opened the door, welcoming me with a knee knocking kiss. As he pulled me against his chest, I instantly felt like a million bucks. “Hey, baby. You look mighty fine tonight.”
It was hard not to immediately argue with him. I suppose years of being called an “ugly mutt” couldn’t be erased by a few weeks of being treasured by a good man. Make that a phenomenal man.
“Hungry?” He led me into kitchen and poured me a glass of wine. My continuous obsession about when the other shoe would drop had caused more insomnia than usual, so I was hyped up on energy drinks and horny.
“Not for food,” I spat out, and he shot me a sly smile. He looked completely at home surrounded by the custom cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless appliances. I tried not to obsess about Sam’s natural air-brushed perfection. When I did, I ended up twisting my hand behind my back like a child who’s just done something naughty. Even if I’d spent a month with a fairy godmother in a room full of wands, I couldn’t have come up with a blue print for a guy more perfect for me. These too-good-to-be-true moments put me on edge.
“I want you to eat something. It’ll help you get more rest if you fuel your body,” he insisted, lifting a plate of fruit and cheese from the counter. It was a sweet gesture, though I knew he hadn’t been the one who prepared it. He’d been way too busy with his mystery project to do anything domestic.
Sam led me into the open living area, and the open shutters pulled my eye to the windows and the inky view of the night sky over the river. He had one of my rubbings hanging near the fireplace, and I tried not the cringe every time I saw it. It wasn’t one of my favorites, and I planned to make him a new one; but I wasn’t sure how that’d go over.
We cozied up on the sofa, which was fast becoming a routine for us. I’d been spending a lot of nights here since he moved in. We drank our morning coffee on the balcony overlooking River Street. It was an incredible spot for people watching or viewing the boats and huge container ships as they passed by on the Savannah River. It’s where I first told him I loved him.
“Are you ready to see your picture?” Sam drew my attention back to the present when he picked up the plate and held it in front of me. I took two pieces of cheese and choked them down. Seeing a life sized pain
ting of myself was the last thing I needed tonight. His worried frown illustrated for me just how well he’d grown to know my tells. “What’s going on?”
“I’m just really worn out. Ready for spring break. Just you, me, the sand and the sun.” I rested my head on his shoulder, and he pulled me tighter to him.
“Actually...I thought we might go somewhere else for the week.” I looked up at him as if the answer would be written in that blue gaze. “Do you have a passport?”
“No…”I sat up and stared at him. “I don’t even know how to get one. Why?”
“I want to take you to Paris.” Stunned, I must have gaped at him long enough to make him uncomfortable. His smile faded, and he looked nervous.
“No.” I shook my head, but I didn’t back away from him. “It’s too much, Sam.”
He beamed at that and set his wine glass down. He intertwined his finger with mine and pulled my hand to his lips.
“It’s not too much. It’s just right. A day of travel there and back. We’ll have a whole week for you to commune with the dead.” Flustered, I opened my mouth to explain myself, and he moved in for an argument abolishing kiss. Touched by the idea that he wanted to fulfill my fantasy, I placed a hand on either side of his face, and seconds later, my body responded full force. My hands wandered, and he broke off the kiss.
“Shit. We have to go soon. Give me five minutes.” He stood, regret oozing from him.
“You can’t take a cold shower in five minutes.” I joked, trying not to stare at the bulge in his trousers. Inside I was relieved. The dismissive way he blew off my objection had me deep in thought. I should have been backing him into the bedroom for a quickie, but instead I was awash with relief.
Sam vanished into his room, and I wandered through the condo, sipping my wine. I paused to look out of the window at Talmudge Bridge which was majestically lit. Then I went into the kitchen to pour a second glass of wine. Sam claimed to understand why I needed time to decide, which I found impressive since I certainly didn’t understand it. On paper it was simple; I loved him and he loved me. My priorities had done an about-face. I’d started blowing off my study group, so I could watch him spar at the gym. In my defense, he and Randall were a hell of a lot more fun to look at all bulging and sweaty than my spindly study-group boys.
I spent every night in his bed or he in mine. He tagged along on my rubbing excursions and made clumsy attempts to be helpful. He was adorable, and sometimes I even imagined what forever would be like with him.
My phone buzzed. I reached for it and saw it was Dale.
Dale: Jayse is here at The Hookup. He’s with Violet.
My fingers flew over the screen.
Me: Thanks. This sux.
Dale: :(
I shoved the phone back in my pocket. I realized that part of my anger at Jayse was that he’d taken Dale from me. He’d been a really decent friend, stable and logical. He was the polar opposite of Jayse, but they complimented each other so well. I poked my head into Sam’s office to see if he’d organized it yet. It looked incredible, like a mix of a home library and a workspace. I made my way to the desk to take in the full effect. As I rounded the desk, I noticed a folder open on top of it. I couldn’t help but notice eight by ten pictures, and my heart hit the floor with a nearly audible thud.
The pictures were of me.
I reached out for the file with a trembling hand. I flipped to the beginning. It was my birth certificate, high school and undergrad transcripts and pictures of me working at Black Keys, leaving the pharmacy, sitting in class. I’d just gotten to my mother’s arrest records when Sam opened the office door. When he saw me holding the folder, his eyes grew wide and very child-like.
“What the hell is this?” I thought I sounded fairly reasonable, considering.
“It isn’t what it looks like, Annabelle.” He put a defensive hand out in front of him. I couldn’t begin to imagine what he thought I thought it looked like.
“Explain.” It was all I could choke out. I could feel my tension rising and I could hear my pulse in my ears.
He advanced closer to me and I backed away from him, still clutching the folder and its contents. His concern grew at that. “I was looking into your past.”
“Obviously.” It was a terse reply, but it needed to be said. “Making sure I’m not a gold digger like your mother said?”
“No… Annabelle...” He came around the desk to me, but I was still backing away. I was terrified that he would touch me. He looked wounded at my retreat, and that stung. “This was to track down the asshole who abused you.” He blushed, and my body was overcome with that pins and needles sensation one gets when a foot falls asleep. I felt like I was going to be sick.
“Why the hell would you want to do that?” My own voice sounded distant. I couldn’t take my eyes from his. His face transformed, and his wide, concerned eyes narrowed just slightly. “What do you plan to do when you find him?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” I could tell he wasn’t lying, but the look in his eyes bordered on deadly. I wasn’t thrilled with the answer. I slowly sat the folder down.
“Leave it alone, Sam.” I sounded like an order. It probably was. I’d tried so hard to put what Travis had done to me behind me, and here Sam was shaking the bushes to draw him out. Maybe we weren’t as in tune with each other as my sex drive told me we were.
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to.” His chest rose and fell more rapidly, and his color was off. In any other circumstance I would have taken him in my arms and stroked his hair. But physical contact was a bad idea. I didn’t want my response to him clouding my judgment. “I don’t want this guy hurting someone else. My conscience won’t allow it.”
I trembled as angry tears spilled out my eyes. I clenched my jaw, trying to swallow. My world had just spun on its axis, and the laws of physics no longer seemed to apply. Grief and anger pulled at me from opposing sides, and it was all I could do to hold myself upright.
“Gee thanks, Sam.” My voice was still quiet, but I looked at him utterly aghast. “Until now, I just felt like a used tissue. Now I get to feel responsible for it.”
I turned and rushed toward the kitchen to grab my purse. I needed to go. To get in my car and just drive. I needed literal distance between us so I could think…so I could breathe. I slung my purse over my shoulder, and I felt his hand close over it.
“Annabelle,” he said, his delivery firm, worn around the edges by a generous layer of pleading. I slipped from beneath his grasp and made for the door. He got there at the same time I did, and as my hand gripped the knob, his pressed against the door itself. “Please don’t go. Let’s figure this out.”
Tears stood in his disbelieving eyes. I could have easily crumbled; my defenses when it came to Sam were weak on a good day. But I turned the handle and pulled on the door. He leaned on it, his eyes begging me to change my mind.
“Don’t do this. I didn’t…”
I yanked on the door and shrugged him off when he tried to reach for me. “Annie!”
I made it to the elevator before the tears started to fall. I got as far as the car before I was sobbing out loud. I wasn’t even angry at Sam. I hated myself. He was right. Humiliated or not, I should have told everyone what happened to me. Though I wanted to ignore my suspicions, I was pretty sure Travis had done to Becca what he’d done to me. I threw open my door and vomited wine and cheese all over the pavement.
My phone buzzed. I didn’t have to look to know it was Sam. I ignored it. Driving home on autopilot, my thoughts were honed in on my younger sister. If the cold sores in her mouth when she was twelve were more than stress related. If she’d ever be able to trust a man enough to fall in love and have a family. My stomach tried to eat itself as I worried whether Travis had desecrated his own biological daughter or if he reserved such fun for other people’s children. So I didn’t notice the silver bullet camper parked in my spot until I was pulling up behind it.
I didn’t cut the engine. I sim
ply sat there, gripping the steering wheel like a drag racer, my mascara creating onyx trails down my cheeks that I’d have to scrape off later. Finally, I blew my nose on some napkins from a discarded fast food bag and tried to tell myself that my mother’s timely appearance wasn’t an omen.
I approached the building, hugging myself like some children suck their thumb. There she sat, all splayed out, blocking the stairs like she owned the place. She smiled up at me over her Camel non-filter.
“There’s my girl!” Harlow drawled. Mom had lived in the Midwest my entire life, and she still had an accent as Kentucky as Derby Pie.
“Hi, Mom.” When I spoke, I sounded congested. My sinuses were still jacked up from my crying jag. She sat up, concern wrinkling her brow. I looked a lot like my mom, though she had a wide upturned nose that I was thrilled I hadn’t inherited.
“What’s the matter, Annie-bell?” The combination of her pet name and my fights with Sam and Jayse corroded my armor just enough to let her slip inside. My eyes burned again, but I’m pretty sure I was out of tears.
We went inside and she offered up her story over frozen thin mints and butterscotch schnapps, the only alcohol in the house that Jayse hadn’t polished off. She was on her way to see a sick friend in Jacksonville and looked me up. While she spewed her lies, I pretended to check my phone, googling casinos in Florida. As expected, the dog tracks and poker rooms in Jacksonville were plentiful. I saw unread texts from Sam and Dale, but Harlow wasn’t the kind of guest you took your eyes off for long, so I ignored them.
“It’s a man, isn’t it?” she asked, as I looked up from my phone. Her brown eyes searched me for clues. Under the harsh fluorescents, I could just make out an almost healed bruise on her left cheekbone. I didn’t ask about it. She’d only lie to me more.
Crazy Love Page 23