by Deb Lee
Sophie scoffed at that. “Really, because every time you open your mouth I hear you back peddling and twisting this bull in your favor.” Sophie’s throat went dry. “And the worst part is you lied.” Her legs threatened to give out. “But I defended you.” Oh, God. What would Donovan and Amy say? And of all people to be right about smelling a rat—Asher had pegged Ryan as being duplicitous.
“Sophie, I know. And I’m really sorry. It’s all very hush-hush at the corporate office, but it’s a corporate merge. I really did come to help with training, but things sort of moved fast. I’ll be assisting with the transition.”
“The transition?”
Ryan’s brows creased. “The layoff.”
Sophie’s legs couldn’t hold her. She slumped on the bed, the paper crinkling beneath her. “But you lied.”
His face was sullen, his voice low. “I know. I didn’t want to.”
“When did you know?”
When he didn’t answer right away, Sophie turned just enough to see Ryan shaking his head. “It’s so very complicated.”
“When, Ryan? Was it when you kissed me today? Was that your way of softening me up?” She held up the paper that bore her name. “What is this? Am I just a question mark to you? Tell me, is this a question of moral obligation or whether you should screw me all over again.” She crumpled it and threw it at his feet.
He took a step toward her, supplication written all over his face. “No. Nothing like that. I want more for you. More than a low-rated magazine that if not merged, will close altogether. At least we can save a few jobs, and I’ll write letters of recommendations and help find work for those who want to stay in the industry.”
Sophie’s stomach churned. She threaded her fingers together, pushing on her stomach to try and ease the pain. “I’m happy where I am. I love my job.” Tears swelled and it only took one blink for her lashes to release a stream. “I love my outreach. The girls need me! And to think . . . I let you in. I told you about everything . . .” Sophie gasped. Realization hit her. With no magazine there was no budget for the outreach, which meant closing the café. There was no way she could afford rent on her own. Not with San Francisco real estate. “How could you do that to the girls?”
“Sophie, you have to believe me,” he pleaded. “That wasn’t me. It’s bad timing. Since I found out, I’ve been trying to figure out how to help the café.”
A low guttural growl surfaced from somewhere inside. She enunciated each word carefully. “You stay away from me and my girls.”
Ryan stepped toward Sophie, but she sidestepped. “I want to help. I believe in you and your cause. Trust me, Sophie, please.” His beseeching eyes flickered in the dim light. “This isn’t personal and it doesn’t change one ounce about how I feel about you. Sophia, I lo—”
“No!” She stabbed her finger at him again. “You don’t get to say that.” She gestured at the strewn about papers on his bed. “And don’t talk to me about trust, Pike. You lied about why you’re here. You lied to my face. And then you had the nerve to kiss me.”
Ryan shifted. He covered his head with both hands and then rubbed them through his hair. “This is not how I wanted to you find out. I was going to tell you tonight.”
“Well isn’t that convenient timing? I suppose you paid off that bee so you could avoid having this conversation. I bet you planned to get through the next twenty-four hours and say au revoir.”
“Sophie, please. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise. It’s my job.”
“Oh yeah? How much did you sell your soul for this time?”
At that, Ryan’s face turned to stone. He looked at Sophie with his knowing eyes that in that moment turned tortured.
“That’s right,” Sophie said so calmly, she almost scared herself. “You threw me a sympathy bone to get your story last time. You turned a very private time of my life into an article and published it.” She took a step closer, but Ryan remained anchored in place. “How could you?”
He rubbed the inside corners of his eyes and sighed heavily. “I wrote from my pain, Sophie. I had to process things. Why would a beautiful girl like you, with all the confidence in the world, stop talking to me all of a sudden? I thought you loved me.”
Sophie listened but didn’t buy his words.
“I had no idea they would publish it.”
“Yes, you did. You know as well as I do that once the written word is out there, it’s for the world to see.” Sophie cringed from the heartache of those printed words. They were still imbedded in her mind like the Pledge of Allegiance or her social security number. “The article basically called me fat. It said I had a pretty face but valued my worth by my size. It said I scampered like a hermit crab. You said that.”
“The editor took a little too much liberty.”
“Don’t you proofread those things before you submit? I know I do.”
“No, not when you sign over the rights for a mere $250.”
“You sold me out for $250?” Sophie could hear the strain in her voice, but hoped Ryan didn’t catch it.
“No. I sold myself out.”
Sophie threw her hands up. “Well, congratulations. You just did it again.”
Sophie stormed past Ryan, but he reached out and snagged her arm, forcing her to turn around. “Don’t leave like this.”
Sophie snatched her arm back and leaned in, nose to nose. She had one question for the man who swooped in like he’d saved the world, but really only wanted to save face. “What would your mother say?”
Ryan recoiled. His creased brows drew together, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. A haunted look spread across his face.
“Enough!” Ryan’s bark could have cleared a room.
Sophie flinched, not losing her lock on his eyes.
“I may not be perfect. I have my flaws, especially in the past, but I have tried to fix this. And for you to bring up my mother, it just shows you’re weak.”
Fire roared in her chest. Hot tears of frustration and disappointment and betrayal threatened to explode out of her. “I’m weak?”
“You need people to need you. And you can’t let anyone else make a mistake or screw up without calling them on it. I messed up. And I was trying to fix it. I don’t want this for you. But I don’t make these decisions. Yet, you don’t see that. You see that you have no control here and you’re not willing to accept that.”
“I do not need to have control.”
“Oh really? Did you call Charlie yet? Is that why you’re in my room?”
Sophie’s jaw fell open. How did he know? “I was going to but then I saw all this—”
“Exactly. Control. You have no control over those girls, you don’t have control over the magazine, you don’t even have control over your emotions. And you won’t let anyone help. You fight to hold that control. But it’s all smoke and mirrors. Sometimes you have to accept what is and move forward.”
Sophie’s legs were cemented to the floor. She wanted to yell at him and scream that he was wrong, except a small part of her knew he had a point. She was out of control. The way she treated Asher? And why else would she have purged yesterday and wanted to do it again?
For control.
Sophie didn’t have the words to argue. She dropped her eyes and looked away. “Maybe you’re right.”
Ryan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to be wrong. This is all wrong.”
Sophie nodded. “I’m gonna go.” Sophie turned on her heel and made no effort to hold back the tears blinding her.
“Sophie, wait.”
She turned, one hand holding the doorknob.
He swallowed dryly then quietly said, “Don’t say anything to the others just yet. They need to hear it from me. I owe them that.”
Right. Job first. “Don’t worry. The last thing I want to do
is talk about you to anyone. Goodbye, Pike. I hope the apple tasted just as good this time around.”
~ ~ ~
Sophie held her breath. If she didn’t breathe, she couldn’t cry. But that didn’t mean tears wouldn’t stop streaming down her hot cheeks.
Ryan’s room was closer to the stairs than it was the elevator. And though her eyes stung, she had to get as far away from Ryan as possible. She took the steps all the way to the fourth floor mezzanine, then bolted to her room. She barely slammed the door before sliding to the floor. With her knees drawn to her chest, she cried. Tears of anguish and defeat and frustration. Not just for her, but for her girls. The ones who needed her.
Or did they?
Ryan’s words had struck a chord. He was right about her needing control. But still. If she didn’t take care of those girls, who would?
She got up to wash her face, but when she stepped into the bathroom the clean smell of chlorine swirled in her gut. She fought the urge almost as much as she wanted to give in to it.
Her toothbrush lay next to the sink and she knew The Ritual would only take a moment. Her stomach grumbled, mad at her for missing dinner—something she’d plan to do with Ryan. A purge would turn that pang off too.
Not giving it a second thought, because second thoughts led to regret, she grabbed her toothbrush and dropped to her knees. She slammed open the toilet seat and vise-gripped her toothbrush with all her might. When the familiar smell of porcelain and bleach danced up her nose, her mouth filled with the needed saliva to make this effortless. Her body convulsed, giving her permission to lean in and stick that brush in her wide-open mouth.
But her muscles seized.
What was she doing? How many times had she let the hurt define this moment for her? One? Two? Three? She shook her head. Four? Five? Six thousand times?
She sat back on her ankles and ran her thumb over her toothbrush’s bristles. Its soft, synthetic blue and white fibers massaged her tender skin. She held it in front of her eyes, not willing for it to touch the back of her throat. Ever. Again.
Her thumbnail slowly flicked the quills, one by one, forcing each of the hundreds of tiny individual spines to pop up—each one a part of a whole.
A simple toothbrush, a tool meant for good, well, good hygiene at least, that she’d used for self-sabotage. She thought of her girls—individuals, who by themselves were amazing, but when working as a whole, changed each other’s worlds for the better.
But if they were such a good unit, did they need her as much as she believed they did? Charlie was perfectly capable of taking care of Deidra the other day. Sure, it was food poisoning, but even if it wasn’t, Charlie’s calmness in the situation put what Sophie was doing right now to shame. So why did they need her so much? Or—Sophie gulped—grateful the urge to purge had passed, was it the other way around?
I need them.
“I do,” Sophie said to her toothbrush, which happened to give her its undivided attention. “Love them and let them go?”
She shook the thought of releasing them to a pack of gnarling wolves from her mind, but considered what Ryan had said. What if she’d simply just transferred her control from purging to being the mother hen for the girls? It was still her trying to control. But she couldn’t always have it. Like Ryan said, control was a façade.
What if the girls really didn’t need her as much as she needed them? What if she was holding them back from their growth and development? What if freeing them into the world would make a difference to the world and to them? They needed freedom. As long as she kept them in the café, they would continually look to her for guidance and strength. And in return she would feel loved and needed.
Oh my God. Was she keeping them in a rundown café, slaving over mediocre food, for her own benefit? She felt nauseous, but for a different reason entirely than purging.
After a moment, she crawled to her feet and stared in the mirror, taking inventory. It was clear that her spiral was not because of Ryan, or work, or even the café’s financial problems. It was deeper. The girls were her safe place. A part of her believed that as long as she invested in them, they wouldn’t leave her. They wouldn’t betray her.
Was this how she allowed herself to be someone’s question mark? She had guarded her heart and only shared it with those she could trust, people like her. She'd worked so hard to heal her heart, it had taken so long. But had she really healed? Or had she hid behind the thrill of being needed? Without another thought, she marched out of the bathroom and chucked the toothbrush against the fake window. She refused for it to have any hold on her. The toothbrush dropped without a sound. It was just a tool, useless without the power she gave it. And now it lay on the floor. Powerless.
She fired up her laptop and scrolled her curser over the ‘To’ line. She typed ‘J. Tomilson.’ She made a face. Stupid scuzzy landlord. His email address popped up. Then she scrolled down to the subject line. Her mouth pulled to one side, and as she typed, her one regret was not having done this a long time ago: Notice of Non-Renewal.
Chapter 34
When the passengers finally debarked the ship in the heart of the Bay, a full thirty hours after Sophie stormed out of his room, Ryan carried his lone, black travel bag off the cruise ship and to an awaiting cab.
The mid-morning fog was burning off and Ryan hoped to get back to the local office before anyone had a chance to catch him. Yesterday’s final training went off without a hitch. Or Sophie’s attendance.
It shouldn’t surprise him by now just how easily he compartmentalized all parts of his life. His dad, his job, his friends, and of course Sophie. No one area could affect another. He once viewed that as strength, now it felt like a fault. Damn.
The cab pulled alongside the office building. Ryan paid the driver and had almost exited when Red pushed him back in.
“Not here,” Red said.
“Not here what?”
Red scooted across the seat, right up to Ryan’s leg, and shut the door. “Take us to 15th and Irving Street,” Red ordered the driver.
“What’s going on, Red?”
“Guess who just called?”
Ryan knew Red’s exit interview was scheduled for this morning, but he didn’t dare answer that question. Phil had already dropped a few A-bombs over the past four days. So Ryan went with the safe and easy. “Couldn’t tell ya. Who?”
“Well, it’s the reason our meeting won’t be taking place in my office.” Red’s plump face stared out the window as they hummed through the City. “My former office, I should say.”
Ryan froze. “Come again?”
Red turned to Ryan. “Really?”
Ryan looked straight ahead. Someone must’ve called him. Maybe Sophie. “Okay.”
Red nodded. The driver dodged three near misses with other vehicles, weaving in and out of lanes, and played Rochambeau with bicyclists.
When the cab stopped, and Ryan saw where they were, he rolled his eyes. “What are you doing, Red? We have a meeting, and then I’m going to SFO.”
“What time’s your flight?”
“Not until five, but—”
“Then you have plenty of time to humor an old man.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just pay the man,” Red instructed. “You make the big bucks.”
Ryan sighed but didn’t argue. “Is this necessary? I’ve had a long, hard week and . . .”
Red shot daggers at Ryan, and he clamped his mouth shut.
Oh, right. You were basically just fired.
Red exerted extra effort to hoist himself out of the cab, and Ryan followed. He handed the cabby a twenty and closed the door.
“Let’s have a drink,” Red insisted. “You and I need to talk.”
Ryan sighed heavily. He hadn’t slept more than two hours since Sophi
e found those papers. Torment gnawed at his conscience. He slung his bag over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets, following Red into the Sports Bar.
Red beelined to the bar and gestured two fingers at the neon sign above their head indicating that specific IPA, then turned to Ryan and said, “You screwed up.”
Red didn’t beat around the bush. Ryan glared straight ahead at all the varying labels of rum, vodka, scotch. The red-labeled scotch took him back to the tender where he threaded his fingers in Sophie’s hair and enjoyed her body’s response.
Ryan cleared his throat and gripped the opened bottle the bartender slid to him. He pressed it to his lips and took a prolonged pull. The fizz felt better than it should.
“You going to just let that little girl go?”
“Sophie?” Ryan swallowed a lump. “Red, I really don’t think that is any of your concern.”
“That bad, huh?”
Ryan took another swing and put the bottle down, peeling the label. “Got anything harder than beer? It was a blood bath.”
“That’s what I heard.”
Ryan glared at Red. “She rat me out to you?”
“She’s like a daughter to me.” His voice was gravelly. “So that makes this worse. But no. It wasn’t her.”
Ryan nodded and continued to remove the sticker from the bottle. “Donovan?”
Red nodded. “Remember we’re a family. We have our share of black sheep, but we’re still close knit. He did the right thing. He was straight with me. He’s worried about Sophie. And he told me you two spent an awful lot of time together.”
“Not to be rude, Red, but I’d like to keep my personal business private. We do, however, have some stats and ratings we can run through, if you’d like.”
Red waved his hand through the air. “Seriously, Ryan, you are green. What’s the point? The magazine is closing.”