All of our girls that dance at RISE are required to take kickboxing classes here for their protection. In our line of work, we must know how to defend ourselves if any of us are put in a position we don't want to be put in. Eden and I both know how that feels. I shudder at the memory—all of the memories—but the handsome stranger's presence behind me breaks me out of it.
"So that's twice now. Once, I'd say, is a coincidence, but twice makes me wary. Did you jump in my way on purpose?"
I glance at him over my shoulder, and his smile fades.
"No!” he says quickly, shaking his head. “No way. I swear I didn't. I didn't realize how close I was getting. You're...the way you jump rope, it didn't even look real."
"I've been doin' it for a very long time. Sometimes I don't even feel the effort; it just feels like I'm floatin'."
We get to the counter to order my peanut butter banana protein shake, and Mr. Blue Eyes orders the same.
"So I should probably know your name by now. I'm Landry."
He puts his hand out to me, and if the blonde hair and blue eyes didn't clue me in, his name did.
He's definitely not Italian. Good.
"Magnolia."
I smile at him, shaking his hand, and a bolt of electricity shoots up my arm. All of a sudden, my body—a body that's been numb and cold except when I dance—comes to life. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, sweat trickles down my back, and I realize I'm panting.
I glance over at Landry, and he has a look of confusion on his face. I pull my hand away quickly and look toward the counter. The girl starts to ring up both of our shakes, and as I hand over my card, Landry steps up, putting his in front of mine.
"Please, take mine," he tells the girl behind the counter.
"Landry! I said I would get you a protein shake."
"And you did, thank you, but I'm paying for it."
The girl nods, taking Landry's card, and I shake my head, pulling mine back.
"You knew what I meant," I mumble.
"I did, yes, but that doesn't mean I agreed with it," he laughs.
I smile, taking my shake off the counter.
"Thank you."
"You're very welcome. Want to sit? Chat a little?"
The familiar feeling of panic takes over, my eyes darting from side to side, trying to find an out.
"I…"
"Don't chat, right? All right, all right, I get the hint. If you're not interested, just tell me."
"I'm not interested," I say quickly.
He opens his mouth then closes it, taken back by my outburst.
"Well damn, that hurt a lot more than I thought it would," he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head.
"That's...that's not what I meant. I mean, you're sweet and funny and very good-lookin'. Really, really, ridiculously good-lookin' but I…"
My cheeks heat, realizing what I just said, and I stumble over my words, trying to backtrack. I've never had to do this. Talk to the opposite sex like this...without my mask. At the club, I'm protected. I can be Madam Siren, not Magnolia Giordano, a twenty-five-year-old divorcee with enough baggage to fill Atlanta's colossal airport. Giacomo was picked out for me before I was even interested in guys that way. I was married off almost before I even got my period for the first time. This is different, and I have no idea what to say or how to act.
"It's okay, really. You have a boyfriend? Married?"
He glances down at my hands like he did the first time, and I see the moment of recognition on his face. They aren't as bruised as they were a few days ago, but I see the flash of pity anyway.
"No, I just...don't really date. I'm sorry, I…I'm gonna go before I make an even bigger fool of myself. Thank you for the shake. Sorry about your shoulder, and your head, and for...not chattin' or not drinkin' tea or—"
He steps up to me, brushing my blonde, stray strand behind my ear, and I suck in a breath at his touch. My eyes widen, but then his soft movement against my ear slowly makes its way down to my cheek, and before I know what I'm doing, my eyes are closed, and my face turns into his palm.
"You don't have to apologize, Magnolia. You're allowed to feel the way you feel. I am not going to make you do something you don't want to do."
His voice is low and soothing, and I want so badly to shake my head, tell him to keep talking, convince me to take him up on that coffee date. I want to. I want to so badly, but my fear overrides any desire I have.
I feel his fingers move over my knuckles, and I flinch.
"Is this from the gym? You don't have to answer me, but if someone is hurting you I—"
"No," I say quickly. "It's...it's from hitting the heavy bag." I slowly open my eyes as he nods, not entirely convinced but relenting.
"Take care, Magnolia. It was a pleasure to see you again."
My cheek is cold as he pulls his hand away, and I immediately want it back. How can a complete stranger give me comfort just from a simple gesture?
"Take care," I whisper.
He walks backward, keeping his eyes locked on mine, and then he turns and leaves without a look back. I lean my head against the wall and sigh, letting out a frustrated breath.
"Dammit, Magnolia. Dammit, dammit, dammit."
I sit in the back row of our weekly domestic abuse gatherings run by Everleigh's mama at Hope House, a shelter for women. Being the wife of a cop, she's heard plenty of stories and experienced some heartbreak herself, so it was only fitting that she opened up a safe haven.
"Hey there, beautiful."
I smile, standing as I hug Ev's mama.
"Hi, Mrs. Greene."
"That's the girl I was telling you about," she whispers, nodding to the front.
I turn my gaze to a petite little brunette with clear blue eyes, hair cut short above her shoulders. She's in a band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and old sneakers as she nervously looks around the room, biting her lip.
"Okay. Am I up first tonight?" I ask.
"Up to you. Gail is here too, but you can go first if you'd like."
I nod, walking toward the front of the room, and turn to the small group of women. There's about seven tonight, a little less than our usual twelve, and I always have that feeling of dread when some are missing. Did they go back to their abuser? Did they give in to their fear?
"Hi, y'all. My name is Magnolia Giordano for those newcomers we have tonight."
"Hi Magnolia," they all greet.
"So I've been dealin' with the aftermath of an abusive marriage I was in for two years. It was an arranged marriage, I was sixteen years old, and he was twenty-six. For two years, I was verbally abused, some nights sexually abused as our parental pressure to have a baby weighed down on us."
I take a breath, remembering so many nights of laying in our bed just taking whatever Giacomo was going to give me, night after night, just wanting it to end.
"I started to realize I was too young to live my whole life like that. I wouldn't make it. If he didn't eventually hurt me bad enough to...maybe I would have…"
I trail off, shaking my head as I swallow the shame.
"I started to make my own money, made a plan to leave him, and he didn't like that. He followed me, got aggressive, and...that was the last straw. With the help of my best friend and her parents, I started over."
I look up, locking eyes with Mrs. Greene, and smile at her.
"Support. We are all here to support you because you deserve happiness. You deserve to want to wake up every day. If I can do it, so can you. Thank you."
There are a few claps as I make my way toward the back of the room, and Mrs. Greene pulls me in for a hug.
"You would think that speech would get easier," I mumble.
"It never gets easier, baby; you just get stronger."
"Excuse me?" a soft voice says from behind us.
I turn and see the girl Mrs. Greene was talking about and break the hug.
"Hi."
Mrs. Greene smiles, walking
away, leaving me with the girl.
"Hi. I..I'm sorry about what happened to you," she mumbles.
"Thank you," I respond, keeping my eyes locked with hers, trying to find any indication that this is her reaching out. I've learned to look for the signs, and the bruises around her neck are an obvious one, but it's the silent ones that speak volumes. "So is it your first night here? I haven't seen you around."
The girl looks around the room and nods, shifting her weight from one sneaker to the next.
"How...how did you make enough money to leave your husband?" she asks.
I lean my butt against the table behind me and grip it, wanting to cross my arms over my chest but knowing that's a defensive sign and she doesn't need that right now.
Let it out, Magnolia, this is why you do this. Bleed for these girls so they can acknowledge their own wounds and heal.
"I...started dancin' at a club. A friend's uncle owned it, and I'm a great dancer. I made enough within a few months to find my own place."
"Stripping?" the girl squeaks.
"Yes. I know what you're thinkin' and...well yeah, that club was sleazy and terrible," I mumble, shuddering at the memories from The Devil's Playground. "Now though, I…" I look around, making sure Mrs. Greene is far enough away before I continue. "I know some girls that own a high-end gentlemen's club, and it's different from the rest. It's freein' and empowerin'."
She seems to ponder this for a moment, biting on her lip and starting to play with the frayed corner of her t-shirt.
"Do...do the girls make a lot of money? Enough to take care of themselves?"
I nod, reaching into the back pocket of my jeans, and look around before I hand her our card.
"Take this and stop by sometime tomorrow after six, just between us, okay? No pressure, just...come and check it out."
The girl cautiously takes it, flipping it over to the back.
"Madam Siren?"
I smirk, nodding my head.
"She's the best dancer, in my opinion. If you wanna learn, she's the one you need to see," I finish with a wink.
"I beg to differ. If badassery is what you're searchin' for, Madam Roxie is your girl."
I roll my eyes, seeing Eden walking toward us.
"Eden, this is...oh gosh, I'm sorry, I don't even know your name," I gasp.
"Quinlin," the girl responds. "Quinlin Kincaid."
"Quinlin. Beautiful name," I muse. "Well, stop by tomorrow, okay?"
"I will. T-thank you, Magnolia."
Quinlin smiles at me as she walks away to the refreshments table, grabbing a donut and water, and makes her way out of the conference room.
"Can't save 'em all, Lia," Eden says softly.
"I'm savin' her," I decide. "Lord knows I'm too far gone, but she isn't."
"Oh, shut the fuck up. You are not. Get the hell out of your head right now, or I'll drag your ass to the gym down the hall and beat you senseless."
I laugh, rolling my eyes.
"Like you could. No whips and chains, just fists," I sass, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Now, where’s the fun in that?"
I link my arm through Eden's as we walk to the exit door, waving goodbye to Mrs. Greene and out to the parking lot.
"How was the self-defense class? Full house?" I ask.
"And then some. Three new women. Everleigh is addin' another weapons class tomorrow. There's a high demand for it."
I nod as we get into Eden's pick up truck and head back to our apartment building.
"I always wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I'm happy that so many women are wantin' to be able to protect themselves, but at the same time, that could be more and more women needing to protect themselves from God knows what."
"All we can do is give them the tools and opportunities, Magnolia. You know I get it better than anyone, but they come at their own pace. Just make sure you're not pushin'. Remember what it was like for you."
I do. I remember like it was just yesterday having to defend myself to my own father, begging him to help me out of a marriage that he put me into. A red cheek, black eye, and tear-stained cheeks, and he still turned his back on me.
I remember those past few months like it was just yesterday. I locked myself away in Everleigh’s room for two days straight, making myself sick as she tried to get me to eat, shower, do anything. Mr. and Mrs. Greene gave me time, Everleigh did, Addy and Eden, and by that third day, all of them were dragging me out of that room whether I wanted to or not, and that’s exactly what they did.
I showered, ate one piece of toast as they all sat there, trying to figure out how to help me. I didn’t have an answer for them because I didn’t even know how to help myself.
The silence stretched on and on until Mrs. Greene told me to get dressed and drove me to Hope House. I sat in the back row, listening to these women recall their lives, the abuse they endured at the hands of men they loved. Giacomo didn’t marry me for love; he married me out of obligation. If these women had to go through years of abuse at the hands of men who were supposed to love them, what the hell kind of hope was there out there for me? How could I ever truly trust a man ever again?
Then everything changed. Their stories started to evolve, and their haunted expressions changed as they talked about their new spouses, bringing children into this world, a boyfriend that makes them happy, and that they hope to marry someday. How? How could they all forget their past? How could they forget the horrors they went through and trust again? Go through it all, not knowing if it will happen again?
It took weeks, months even for me to finally agree to see a therapist, confiding in someone about my shortcomings, bringing the abuse upon myself because I couldn’t give Giacomo what he needed. A baby. It wasn’t my fault, I know that now, but at the time, that’s all that invaded my mind.
Months later, when I could finally afford it, I got a lawyer and started the divorce proceedings, not taking a damn thing from Giacomo because I just wanted it to end. Living with Eden and Addy and splitting the rent, I could afford to cut down at the club and double my class load. I focused on dancing and school, putting all my effort into things that I never could before now that I was free. The hole was hard to mend, though—the hole my family left when they decided their name was more important than the people who had it.
The hole never went away; it just got smaller. Small enough for me to fill it with things that mattered, people that would never abandon me the way they did. I was shocked they let me go that easily, but grateful there wasn’t more of a fight. It was bittersweet, not having to fight with my own family but at the same time not being important enough to be fought for.
I started to forge a path of my own, figuring out what I wanted out of life and what made me happy as I opened up more in my sessions. The Devil’s Playground became my safe haven, despite how unsafe it was. I was naive to all the horrors those brick walls have seen, but my memory would never let me forget when the reality finally hit me.
I grab Eden’s hand across the console, remembering her cries, remembering her face as her sick and twisted uncle raped her right in front of my eyes, and I know we’re all stronger because of our past, not weaker.
We all picked up the pieces of each other and came to each other’s side and never, ever left. My pieces didn't fit exactly how they did before, but that was okay. I didn't want to be the same puzzle. I wanted to be different. The Devil's Playground was a cesspool for filth and grime, but it also lit something inside me I always had to suppress. Fire. I dealt with the consequences of giving my soul to the Devil dancing at that club, knowing one day, the price would be worth it.
After Eden parks her truck in front of our prestigious apartment building, we make our way to the top two floors, housing our gorgeous 2,000-square-foot apartments. I knew this was it. I walk into my home, glancing over at the key ring hanging by my door. Seeing the lanyard that houses my key card to get into the hospital I work at, delivering babies, something my father and Giaco
mo both said I would never do, causes a wave of pride to wash over me. Freedom. I did this.
Keep pushing. You deserve to be happy. One day at a time.
The next morning I eat my banana and take my headphones from the front foyer table, ready for my morning run. I knock on Everleigh's door and hear her signature "Fuck off, Lia!" and laugh, taking the elevator down to the street. One day that girl is gonna come for a run with me.
I pop my headphones into my ear and take my usual run to Centennial Park. It's a brisk January day, but as soon as my blood gets pumping, the chill subsides.
My sneakers pound against the pavement as Halsey belts out in my ear, and I pick up my pace, knowing I'll pay for it tomorrow when I'm shaking on the pole.
I finally make it to the park as I survey my surroundings. Deserted due to the cold weather, so I turn back toward my apartment. The feeling of the wind against my face, running away from the past and doubts, like they can't touch me as long as I keep running, is exhilarating.
Making it to my block, catching my breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I reach into my armband for my key as I get closer to my building and take out my headphones from my ears.
"You're hard to catch!" a voice gasps from behind me, grabbing for my shoulder, but I don't have time to register it. I react without thinking, landing a jab to the stranger's nose and an uppercut straight to his chin.
"Ah, fuck! Magnolia, it's me. What the fuck? Since when are you Jackie-fucking-Chan?"
I furrow my brows as the man stumbles back on his feet, and my jaw drops.
"L-Luca?"
"Ciao, sister. How have you been?" he laughs, wiping at his bloody nose.
"I… How did you know I live here?" I ask defensively.
"You're my sister, Nolie. Of course, I know where you live."
"God, your nose. Come inside," I say softly, nodding toward the doorman as we walk inside.
Delivered in Sin Page 2
