by Leah Wilde
Steph tilted her head to the side, giving me the kind of sympathetic smile a mother gives her daughter. One that says, honey, we’ve all been with the wrong man but it’s time to kick this one to the curb. “Look, I don’t understand all of the gory details and I don’t want to. But I’ll tell you now what I told you before: Go to the cops. Mason isn’t going to save you. He’ll just drag you down, because that’s what he does. Do what’s good for you, Sasha, not him.”
I nodded, though I was still reeling a little. Mason had been manipulating me this whole time.
The money for repairs had been a ploy.
The almost date-like dinner at the Mexican place had been a means to an end.
The sex that brought me to incredible orgasm—nothing more than a quick and dirty road to satisfaction. His satisfaction.
“You’re right,” I told her, I stood. “I’m sorry for interrupting your party.” I waved towards the door where her friends continued to dance on the other side.
She waved off my apology. “Don’t worry about it. The night’s still young. You wanna stay?”
I shook my head. I wanted to go home to my son, to where there was some semblance left of who I was. “No, I’ve got to go get Nick. He’s with Mrs. Carmichael right now.”
“Alright. Well, if you need me, give me a call. I’ll be up. And, seriously Sasha, call the police.”
I told her I’d think about it, though some part of me still knew that the cops weren’t an option. She walked me to the door, through the crowd that tried to drag us onto the impromptu dance floor. Steph embraced me, holding me for a minute and murmured, “Be careful, hon.”
“I will.”
Then I left. As the door closed behind me and I headed down the stairs, I admitted to myself the truth.
I expected more from Mason, because I wanted more from him. But all I was ever going to get was a drug dealer who wanted to use me as a sex toy.
# # #
Standing on Mrs. Carmichael’s doorstep, I reminded myself that Nick was the only man in my life that mattered.
I knocked and waited.
A few seconds later, an older woman with graying hair that was tinted a silvery blue answered the door. She had a weathered face and a kind smile—the kind of lady you imagine has twenty grandkids and knits afghans in her spare time. “Oh, Sasha, dear. How are you?”
I smiled big. It still felt fake, almost achy on my face, but it wasn’t angry or harsh at least. “Good. Sorry to be so late. Work was madness today.”
“Was it an inventory night?” she asked pleasantly.
I froze, then remembered that inventory didn’t automatically mean drugs. There were plenty of other things that I received and stored in my back storage spaces that didn’t belong to Mason. I nodded a little too late. “Yeah. It’s been brutal. How’s Nick?”
“An absolute delight,” she told me, practically glowing with affection. “He reminds me of my own boy when he was a little thing. Asks about a thousand questions and is just sweet as pie. But Tommy so rarely stops by these days, that devil.”
“You should get on him about that. Boys shouldn’t forget their mothers,” I told her.
She laughed. “You’re right, of course.” Then she waved her hands about like she had a sudden spasm, looking horrified. “Oh, I haven’t even invited you in! What sort of batty old lady am I?”
Shaking my head a little, I told her it was fine. “I really just need to pick up Nick and head home. It’s so late already.”
“Of course, of course. I’ll get him, but please do come in.”
I obliged and stepped inside, though I lingered near the door. A moment later, Mrs. Carmichael came around the corner with her old wrinkled hand wrapped around Nick’s tiny one. “Momma!” he cried and released Mrs. Carmichael’s hand to run straight for me. I knelt down to catch him as he flung his arms around my middle.
He held me like he hadn’t seen me in months and I held him just as tight.
“Did you have a good time?” I asked when we finally let each other go.
He grinned at me. “Yeah! I got two cookies tonight and she let me watch Pound Puppies. It was great.”
I shook my head a little. “Two cookies?” I glanced up at Mrs. Carmichael who smiled innocently and shrugged her frail shoulders. I laughed a little. “Well, then I guess you’ve had plenty of sugar tonight. Did you get your homework done?”
He nodded his head. “Yep. Mrs. Carmichael said I had to even though it’s Friday.”
“Good.”
I straightened up, still holding Nick’s hand. “Thank you again.”
“Any time,” she assured me.
We said our goodbyes and I walked Nick home. When we got there, I pulled out the board games and dragged him into a never-ending game of Mousetrap. We kept having to cheat because the cage refused to fall even when we did everything right. But that didn’t matter. We ended up laughing and spending what seemed like hours together, just teasing and tickling each other.
It wasn’t until Nick started to nod off that I finally called it a night. “Alright. No more games. It’s bedtime.”
“But Mom!” he whined, even as he yawned halfway through.
I shook my head, smiling at him. “Don’t ‘but Mom’ me, mister. You’ve already gotten an extra hour tonight. It’s time to get cleaned up and hit the hay.”
He pouted, crossing his little arms over his little chest, pushing his bottom lip out dramatically. He looked adorable and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a laugh. He could be so ridiculous sometimes. “Up,” I ordered him and pulled him by the arms to get him on his feet.
I walked him to the bathroom in the hall, even as he whined and protested the entire way.
“But I’m not tired,” he argued.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
We went back and forth as I made sure he brushed his teeth; he spit toothpaste all over the mirror as he insisted he wasn’t tired again. We made it to his room and he put on his jammies, then I read him a story. It was about a knight on a white horse fighting off a fire-breathing dragon to save the princess who was trapped in a tower. It was a little cliché, but it was one of Nick’s favorites. He struggled to stay awake, nodding off before the princess was saved.
I slid out of bed then, kissing him gently on the forehead as he slept. I’d intended to head to my own room then, but found myself staring at my little boy instead. He was so peaceful in his sleep.
“My little angel,” I murmured.
I finally turned away and headed out, but paused in the doorway as a horrible thought hit me.
They might come for him.
Or for me, and find him. That man—Jimmy or whoever he was—could come for me just like Mason did. And not just at the shop. What if he came looking for me at my home and found Nick here? With Steph or with Mrs. Carmichael? They could all be in danger, because I had made a stupid, horrible mistake.
My first thought was to run to the phone and call Mason, to tell him that I thought Jimmy might know where I lived. But a second later I came to my senses and realized how stupid that was.
Mason didn’t care about me or my son. We could easily be written off as collateral damage.
Swallowing down that bitter pill, I dug into the pocket of my pants and found my cell phone. I dialed Steph, not caring how late it was. I hated that I was interrupting her again, but I couldn’t call the police like she wanted. Then I’d have Mason for an enemy, not just a really lousy boss. I just hoped that she wasn’t so drunk that she couldn’t pick up.
The phone rang several times, then went to voicemail, but I didn’t want to leave a message about this. I called again. This time, Steph picked up.
“Hello?” she asked. I could hear laughing in the background.
I glanced at the clock on the wall; just after ten. “Steph? It’s Sasha.”
“Sasha. What’s wrong? Did something happen? What did that creep—?”
I cut
her off. “Listen, it’s about what happened at the shop tonight.”
“Now what the hell is going on?”
I blurted it out. “Can you take Nick?”
There was a pause. “What?”
Tugging on the ends of my hair, I said, “Can you take Nick? It wouldn’t be for long. A day or two. The weekend.”
“You want me to babysit him this weekend?”
I winced as I realized what I’d just asked. She had friends over and probably wanted to enjoy this weekend. She didn’t want to be saddled with a kid. She was young, pretty, and single. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “It’s fine, Sasha. I was just a little surprised.”
“I know it’s out of the blue a bit. Taking care of a kid for a couple of days is a big deal, but you’re so good with him.” I heard the pleading in my own voice, but couldn’t make myself feel upset about it.
She hesitated, but after a bit, she said, “Can I pick him up in the morning? The girls are still here.”
I winced and knew that I should say that that would be fine, great even. But I couldn’t. Tomorrow morning was a lifetime away and after that guy had threatened me in my own shop, I couldn’t risk that he wouldn’t come here next. And since it was clear to me that Mason would not be protecting me or my family, I had to do that myself.
And the easiest way to do that was to get Nicky out of here for a bit.
“Please, Steph, can you take him tonight? I’m worried.”
I heard some muffled sounds and imagined Steph covering the receiver with her hand so that she could cuss. “Jesus, okay, of course. I’ll be over in thirty, okay?”
I thanked her and promised that I’d give her a raise as soon as I could. She told me not to worry about it, though I knew she hoped I’d make good on that promise. We hung up then and I went into Nick’s room. I felt badly that he’d only just fallen asleep and now I was going to wake him up, but I reasoned that it was Friday and he could sleep a little late tomorrow.
Grabbing his backpack, I threw some clothes in there and a coloring book with some superhero on it. I grabbed his toothbrush from the bathroom as well as his vitamins. After that, I headed to the living room to wait for Steph.
I was anxious, worried that some evil monster was going to pop out of every corner and shadow. Any and every little movement had me jumping. When the knock at the door finally came, I had to slap my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream.
It was strange, but I’d never worried that Mason was going to come to my home and threaten my son.
I answered the door. “Steph, thank you so much.” I threw my arms around her in a hug. She squeezed me back.
“Jeez, you really are worried sick, aren’t you?”
I smiled a little at her. “A mother’s prerogative.”
I handed her Nick’s bag. “I packed some clothes and a few other things. If I forgot something, I’ll drop it off. If there’s a problem—”
“Sasha, seriously. Breathe. Everything’s going to be fine. I know the drill.”
I nodded and forced myself to let out a slow breath. “I know. You’re right. Thank you again for doing this.”
“Let’s grab the little guy and I’ll see you Monday, right?”
We headed to Nick’s room and I settled on the edge of his bed, leaning over him. Gently I shook him awake. “Sweetheart? Steph’s here.”
“Mommy? What’s going on?”
“We’re going to have a sleepover, little buddy!” Steph said, chipper and smiling.
He looked between her and me. He must have sensed something was off, but couldn’t place it. “A sleepover?” he asked suspiciously.
Steph nodded. “Yep. Just you and me all weekend. Lots of cartoons, coloring books, and board games. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
He thought about it a moment, looking again at me. “Mommy?”
I kept my smile bright, despite my shot nerves. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll see you Monday. I just thought you’d like to spend some time with Steph. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
He shrugged, then yawned, clearly still sleepy. But he nodded his head despite himself. “Uh-huh.”
“Good. Now give me a kiss.”
He leaned over and planted one on my cheek. I returned the favor. I scooped him up then and handed him over to Steph. As soon as his head hit her shoulder, he was asleep all over again. I stroked back his hair, telling myself that I was doing the right thing. “I love you, baby.”
“He’ll be okay, Sasha. I promise.”
I nodded, then watched as they left. This is only temporary. Nick’s only going to be there until it’s safe again.
But even as I thought that, I wondered if it was ever going to be safe again.
Chapter Thirteen
If I thought that now that Nick was safely tucked away at Steph’s I would be able to sleep, I was dead wrong. I spent twenty minutes just staring at the ceiling after they left. Sheep counting wasn’t working and I seemed to jump at every little sound that I heard.
Giving up, I finally threw back the covers and headed out towards the kitchen. As I walked down the hall in my large gray shirt, I wondered how in the hell my life had gotten so convoluted.
I mean, I knew how. Mason had complicated everything and put me in a really bad spot, made worse by my own growing sense that maybe there was something tangible and real between us. But if I traced back the whole thing—Mason coming into my shop and making his offer, me turning him down—maybe it wasn’t Mason who had caused all of these problems. Maybe my good girl nature was partly to blame. If I hadn’t been so spotless and squeaky clean, Mason never would have even glanced my way.
I’d spent my life trying to do things by the book and with the exception of Nick, my happy little accident, I led a pretty normal, law-abiding life. And how had that helped me? It hadn’t. Instead, it had drawn the attention of dangerous and handsome Mason, which in turn led me down the road to trading sex for protection and getting involved in a drug racket.
And the worst part of the whole thing was that storing drugs and sleeping with Mason had done more for me than being a good little girl ever had.
I sighed and shook my head as I walked into the kitchen. Grabbing the kettle from the stove, I filled it up and then put it on the stove again, lighting the burner. While the water boiled, I grabbed a chamomile tea bag and dropped it into a mug. Then I waited.
Leaning against the counter, I watched the kettle with my chin rested in the palm of my hand. My mind wandered as I zoned out. How long could Nick really stay with Steph? A weekend was one thing, but come Monday he’d come home. And what if I hadn’t figured out a solution yet? That man could come back and he could find me. Worse, he could find Nick. Then what? Would Mason save Nick?
I laughed bitterly at that thought.
Mason was a cocky bastard who took what he wanted and left the rest. I couldn’t imagine that he would give a damn about my son. He sure as hell didn’t seem to give a damn about me.
The kettle began to whistle and I moved from the counter to go to it, taking it off the heat. I turned off the burner, then began to pour the boiling water into my mug. I was reaching for the honey when I heard the loud banging on my door.
I jumped, the sudden noise in my otherwise quiet little place causing my heart to skip and my nerves to fray further. I let go of my mug and it crashed to the floor. Hot water and shards of glass spread out over the tiles.
I cursed. “Damnit!”
Carefully stepping over the shards, trying to keep glass out of my bare feet, I grabbed a towel and threw it over the mess. The knocking came again.
I thought about calling out that I’d be there in just a minute, but stopped before the words could leave my mouth. I didn’t know who it was. It could be some maniac with a gun for all I knew. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but there really were dangerous people out there and some of them were pretty okay with hurting me to get what they wanted.
&nb
sp; So I cautiously stepped over the towel-covered mess and headed to the door. Moving as quietly as I could, I came to the door and looked through the peephole. I was floored when I saw who was standing on the other side.
Mason.
I stared at him through the little hole for a while until he knocked again, making me jump in surprise once more. I debated telling him to just leave. It was the smart thing to do, yet I found myself reaching for the doorknob instead. I opened the door to reveal him in all his glory.