The Shameless Hour

by Sarina Bowen

  “Not much. Pretty quiet here tonight, isn’t it?”

  “Game tomorrow,” came the answer.

  Ah. “Coach ordered you to get some Z’s?”

  Apparently something crucial happened on screen, because I did not get an answer. And anyway, Whittaker appeared, wearing Harkness sweats and flip flops. “Hey, girl,” he said, giving me half a smile. “What’s shakin’?”

  I didn’t blame him for looking a little confused. We’d only hooked up that one time after Casino Night.

  Now, I stood here regretting it. The sex had been pretty darned average. And afterward, of course I’d had to put myself back together and descend the very public staircase toward the front door, while his frat brothers smirked at me.

  And now here I was again in this creaky house with sticky floors. Stupid girl.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” I asked him, trying my best to sound casual.

  I saw a flicker of fear cross his face. “Is this the kind of talk I’ll need tequila for?”

  “Sure, but only because tequila is for every day,” I replied.

  He gave me a wry grin. “Yo! Dash!” When the younger guy came into view, he asked for two shots. Then he steered me into a breakfast nook off the kitchen, away from everyone else.

  Dash carried in our two drinks, lime wedges and salt. After the guy disappeared, Whittaker turned to me with a question in his eyes. “What’s up?”

  I cleared my throat. There would be no more stalling now. “It’s not a big deal,” I lied. Because it was to me. “But I found out that I recently acquired chlamydia.”

  His eyes widened. “No way.”

  “That was my reaction too.”

  He drained his shot glass, then set it down with a thunk. “You think I gave it to you.”

  “It appears that way. But if you didn’t give it to me, then you could have caught it from me. So you need to take the pills anyway.” I put Ms. Ogden’s card on the table and told him what she’d said about prescribing over the phone.

  It was hard to say whether he was even listening to me anymore. “Do your shot, Bella.”

  Right. With nervous fingers, I tossed it back. The wedge of lime had a sharp, sour flavor that seemed to go perfectly with the sharp, sour day I was having.

  “Dash!” Whittaker called again. The guy came skidding into the little room like a well-trained dog. “Can you make us tonight’s special?”

  The guy hesitated for a second, and I decided that he was being tested in some way. There was probably a stupid frat rule about it — forget the drink special, and do two hundred naked push-ups in the middle of Fresh Court. Or something.

  “Sure,” Dash said after a beat. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I didn’t give it to you,” Whittaker said when we were alone again. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Okayyy…” I was officially at the end of my script. What was the appropriate response to outright denial? Because if he didn’t give it to me, that meant that the shame could only flow in one direction. I’d brought this ugliness to his doorstep. “The, uh, doctor said that most people never see symptoms.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered.

  Welp, (awkward) mission accomplished. Now I really wanted to get the hell out of there, never to return. I was about to thank him for the drink and make my excuses when Whittaker surprised me by changing the topic to a less loaded one. “How does the hockey team look this year?”

  “Pretty good,” I said numbly. “We’ll miss Hartley a lot, but there’s a lot of other talent on the lines.”

  “Who’s the captain? Don’t tell me it’s that gay dude.”

  My blood pressure kicked up another notch. I wasn’t the kind of girl to let that bit of assholery go unchallenged. But this really wasn’t the day to get into an argument with Whittaker over his homophobia. “Trevi is captain,” I said quietly. “He’s a smart guy.”

  Dash strode into the room again. He set two drinks on the table, and I looked down to try to identify the drink special. Hmm. It was a rocks drink with a blush color.

  One had an umbrella in it. “Aw, mine is accessorized,” I said, smiling up at Dash.

  He gave an uncomfortable shrug and left the room. Dash was never going to win awards for his conversational skills, that was for sure. I picked up my drink and had a taste. “It’s… a madras?” I asked.

  Whittaker clinked his glass into mine. “Smart girl,” he said, taking a gulp. “Drink up.”

  I wasn’t really in the mood to get drunk, but it seemed rude not to sit a minute longer. I still couldn’t tell what Whittaker was thinking. Either he wasn’t that worried about what I’d told him, or else he put up a pretty good front. I took a gulp.

  “What classes are you taking?” he asked me a minute later, sipping his own drink.

  “Um… I’m in that Urban Studies lecture,” I said. “And I’ve got two psych courses…” My head felt a little swimmy now. I hadn’t eaten very well since my awful doctor’s appointment. Usually, I wasn’t such a lightweight.

  Across the table, Whittaker asked me another question, but I couldn’t quite catch it. “What?” I asked. The glass in my hand felt too heavy, actually. I set it on the table roughly.

  The last thing I registered was Whittaker’s beady stare.

  Eleven

  Rafe

  It was only seven-thirty on a Sunday morning and barely daybreak. I’d already run more than five miles, but a new blister on my heel was giving me trouble. My running shoes needed to be replaced.

  That would set me back another hundred dollars. Which I did not have.

  I stopped running when I reached the outskirts of campus, slowing to a walk to cool myself down. I loved being alone so early in the morning, when the sun made slanting lines against the limestone facades. Thanks to my fancy new iPod and an overpriced arm band, bachata tunes pulsed in my ears. I walked slowly down the sleepy fraternity row. It was still cold enough outside that my breath made visible puffs in the morning air.

  At that hour, I fully expected to be alone. It surprised me to hear a door slam on one of the wooden porches. My eyes traced the row of houses, but it was not a fraternity member who stumbled into view. A girl, her head bent down, made an awkward descent from the last porch in the row. As I watched, she grabbed the railing to steady herself. In spite of the chill, she had on skimpy clothing. And I couldn’t help notice that her arms and legs were strangely tattooed.

  The drooping girl seemed to gather herself with a deep breath, and then shove off into the morning. But her feet weren’t willing to play along. She stumbled after a few steps, and then fell awkwardly to the sidewalk.

  Shit.

  Yanking my ear buds out, I draped them around my neck. Then I jogged forward as the skin of my heel yelped in protest. By the time I reached her, the girl was attempting to pull herself to her feet.

  It was Bella.

  For a moment I just froze there, my brain too startled to react. But her knees buckled again, and my reflexes came back online. I lunged forward, clamping one hand on either hip to steady her.

  Bella let fly with a hoarse shriek of terror.

  Shit!

  “Bella, sorry. It’s just me. Rafe. Sorry.” I was babbling, but she was trembling in my arms, and it was freaky. I stepped around her body so she could see me. “Are you okay?”

  As I waited for an answer, I took in more strange details and began to understand that she was not okay. Not at all. What I’d mistaken for tattoos on her limbs were actually words inked in marker. Some person — or people — had written on Bella.

  FILTHY BITCH had been scrawled on her upper arm in black ink.

  And on her leg? If I used any of those words, my Ma would slap me. My chest clenched just to see it. Acting on instinct, I stepped closer to Bella, leaning her against my chest. Then I looked up at the frat house I’d just seen her leave.

  Beta Rho.

  The house was completely still. And except for the slow creaking of a birch tree moving in t
he breeze, there was no noise at all. There were no faces in the doorway or at the windows.

  What the hell went on in there?

  My neck tingled, and I fought off a shiver. Bella was silent. The whole situation was creepy as hell.

  I really needed to get Bella home before she fell over again. “Come on. Let’s go.” I repositioned her in the crook of my arm, my hand pressed against her hip.

  Moving down the sidewalk, I was practically frog-marching her. Not that it was easy. Every few steps she stumbled. With my free hand, I grasped Bella’s other elbow. Her skin was cold to the touch.

  Thankfully, it was only a few minutes’ walk from fraternity row to Beaumont. “Can you tell me what happened?” I asked once.

  “No,” Bella whispered. The glassy look in her eyes gave nothing away.

  When we reached our entryway, I hip-checked the laser reader, hoping for enough contact to unlock the door. I heard a reassuring click, and stepped up to open the door. Bella stumbled over the marble threshold, and there was an awkward moment when I thought one or both of us was going to end up on the tile floor.

  “Whoa,” I said, steadying us. I peered up the stairs. “Come on, now,” I whispered. “Almost there.” With Bella still tucked under my arm, we reached the first stair step.

  With a hand on the railing, she dragged herself up the first five or six steps. Then she stopped. “Just leave me here,” she said, her voice low.

  “No can do,” I replied.

  She actually gave me a little shove with her hip. “Go.”

  There was no way in hell I would walk away from her. Maybe I hadn’t known what to say or do since our crazy night together. I’d probably handled things pretty badly. But I knew exactly what to do right now.

  Instead of arguing with Bella, I stepped into her space. I bent my knees and wrapped my arms around her hips, lifting her into the air.

  For one shocked second, she said nothing. I slung her over my shoulder, grabbomg the railing with my free hand. Then I began to climb.

  “Down,” she insisted to my back. “Put me down.”

  “Nope,” I exhaled.

  She gave my back a thump with her arm, but I only held her more tightly. I powered up the stairs. I didn’t want someone sticking his head out to catch us this way. It would look as though I was overpowering a drunk girl.

  And I was, if you wanted to get all technical about it.

  About a minute later, I was sliding Bella down my body and onto her feet in front of her fourth-floor door.

  Her face had pinked up, and her eyes narrowed. I was glad to see it. An ornery Bella was much better than a stony-eyed one. She patted the pocket of her skirt, drew out a set of keys and then dropped them.

  Before she could react, I snatched them off the floor and stuck the room key in the lock.

  “Hey,” Bella argued. But I wanted her inside her room and off her feet. She still looked as if the slightest breeze might knock her down.

  Behind us I heard the squeak of a door. Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of her famous neighbor’s face peeking out. Lianne’s eyes grew wide before she shut her door again.

  Bella pushed her own door open, yanking the knob from my hand. She crashed into the room, stumbled over to the bed and fell onto it.

  I shut the door behind me, then went over to kneel beside the bed. “Bella,” I whispered. “Are you hurt anywhere?” She seemed so weak and that was odd. I didn’t have much experience with alcohol poisoning, though.

  In answer, Bella only closed her eyes.

  I took the opportunity to examine the words marked on her limbs. Two or three different pens had been used. The lines weren’t all the same width, and some of the handwriting was different.

  The only consistent feature was how awful it was. DANGER someone had written. And that was just about the only word in the bunch you could say in church. A lot of it wasn’t coherent, which may have been a blessing. But even misspelled, FILTY PUSSY was unfortunately legible.

  As I looked her over, the creepy tingle returned to my spine. Someone had done this to Bella. No — several someones. It was almost impossible to picture. They must have stood around her passed-out body, egging each other on.

  I tasted bile imagining it. And I couldn’t help wondering what else they might have done to her.

  Shit. I’d gotten Bella home safely. But it occurred to me that the job wasn’t over. “Bella,” I whispered. “Do you need to go to the police? Or the hospital?”

  Her eyes flew open again. “No,” she ground out. “They didn’t… It wasn’t about that.”

  “Then…” I grasped for the right question. “What was it about?”

  “EMBARRASSING me!” She sat up. “It worked. You’re staring!”

  I sat back on my heels and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be right to just let this go. “I don’t know what happened to you, but this is disgusting, and you need to tell someone.” I slipped my iPod out of its sports sleeve. I opened up the camera app and aimed my device at Bella’s leg.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped, swatting at my iPod.

  I held it out for her to take. “When you’re ready to talk, you’re going to want proof.”

  For the first time since I’d found her on fraternity row, she squared her shoulders. Then, before I even knew what was happening, she grabbed my iPod and threw it across the room. I heard a sickening crack as it crashed into the plaster wall. Sections of my fancy toy flung themselves in opposite directions on Bella’s floor.

  “OUT!” Bella yelled. She dragged herself onto her feet and pointed her body toward the little bathroom.

  I stood up to follow because she still looked unsteady.

  She gripped the door frame and swung an angry face toward mine. “Don’t you dare follow me into the bathroom.”

  I heard the sound of another door opening. I looked past Bella into the bathroom and saw the neighbor’s face peering at me again, this time with shocked, wide-open eyes.

  Fantastico. I took a step back, hoping to look nonthreatening. “Listen. If you don’t want me here, that’s fine. But who can I call for you? I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

  Bella gave her head a single shake. “Just GO!” Bella’s head swiveled to take in Lianne’s curious gaze. “What are you staring at?”

  The other girl’s bathroom door closed quickly. That was a shame, because now was really the perfect time for a girlfriend to step in.

  “I’m showering,” Bella said, her hand on the bathroom door. The expression on her face was fierce.

  I took a couple steps backward, still unsure what to do.

  “Get out of here,” Bella slurred. Then she shut the bathroom door in my face.

  Standing there, staring at the wooden panels, I didn’t know what to do. After a moment, I heard the sound of the shower. Still, I was not going to leave her alone here. Not in her condition.

  I left Bella’s room, as she’d asked me to, but I didn’t go downstairs. Instead, I knocked on the neighbor’s door.

  She opened it warily. “Hi,” she said through the narrow opening.

  “Hi. I’m Rafe. I’m your downstairs neighbor.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  Fair enough. “So… Bella is not doing so well, and she won’t tell me why. Are the two of you close?”

  Slowly, the girl shook her head, a look of regret in her eyes.

  “Okay.” I cleared my throat. “That makes two of us. She’s in the shower now I think.”

  Lianne tipped her head toward her own bathroom door, and nodded.

  “Can you just… check on her in a few minutes?”

  “Okay,” she whispered. “What’s the deal with…?” She gestured toward her arms and legs.

  “I really don’t know. I was out running when I found her. And she won’t talk about it.”

  Lianne cringed.

  “Just check on her, okay? Are you going to be home for a while? I’ll come back upstairs later to see how she
is.”

  I waited for Lianne’s nod before I turned away.

  Still in my sweaty running clothes, I went downstairs to my own bathroom. I showered and dressed. Bickley was still passed out in his bed where I’d left him a couple of hours before.

  This morning I’d almost slept in too, skipping the run. If I hadn’t gone, Bella might still be sprawled on the sidewalk somewhere. The idea made me feel sick.

  I was hunting for a pair of clean socks when there was a tentative knock on our outer door. When I opened it, Lianne stood there, looking uncomfortable. “She’s still in the shower,” she said.

  “Okay.” A long shower wasn’t the end of the world.

  Lianne bit her lip. “She sounds really upset. But when I tried to ask her if she needed help, she just screamed at me. She doesn’t want me in there.”

  Dios. “Do you want me to try to talk to her?”

  Lianne nodded.

  “All right.” I headed up the stairs followed by Lianne. On the landing, I caught her elbow. “Hey. Can you tell me who Bella does talk to? Does she have a girlfriend I could call? Someone she trusts?”

  Lianne looked thoughtful. “Bella doesn’t have girlfriends. She hangs around with the hockey team.”

  “Well…” I couldn’t exactly start dialing from the top of the team roster. “Anyone special?”

  “I don’t know their names. One of them speaks a lot of French.”

  I remembered that guy from Casino Night, but had no idea who he was. And for all I knew, he was the one who hurt her. “Can you let me into the bathroom?”

  Lianne led me through her room. When I entered the bathroom, the shower curtain was only partially closed, and I could see movement. Bella was seated on the shower floor, furiously scraping at her skin with a bar of soap. “Damn it, damn, damn,” she chanted. I took one step closer. The skin on her leg was raw-looking and red.

  “Bella,” I said. I think I startled her. She dropped the soap and folded over herself. “Come on out of there now,” I said as gently as I could. She didn’t answer me. She only hugged her bent knee more tightly, her face turned away from mine.