by Elena Monroe
I coughed on the coffee lodged in my throat wrong after she mentioned deep throating and crucifixes in the same sentence. Very clear, Abigail wasn’t most girls, which was good, because I wasn’t most guys.
I didn’t even know what to say to her past that she unfolded in front of me. Her ugly past was bullying mine to show itself, even though that was a deal breaker for most people, even me. I could show her that shit and the door at the same time. No girl wanted to know exactly how guys ended up this far gone. They just wanted to think they could fix it, and if they only knew how deep wounds went, they wouldn’t think that way anymore.
My phone buzzed against the hard marble of the countertop, and Abigail’s eyes went wide. The baby hairs flooding her hairline made her look even more panicked. “That’s the time? We’re gonna be late for work. We have to leave, like now. I’ll look up the traffic.”
Finishing my coffee, I tried to find the fucks I didn’t actually give. The Clave could go up in flames, and I wouldn’t blink an eye.
Following her up the stairs, I watched my shirt barely cover her ass, and suddenly the fucks arrived. I could care if it meant this view and deep throating crucifixes echoing in my head.
GRIMM
Abigail strutted into the office in her clothes from last night still soaked in the stench of a dive bar and cheap alcohol. She refused to wear anything of mine into a workplace, throwing around words like “unprofessional” and “inappropriate” at me while I still adjusted to being awake.
Xanax was a bitch between pills. It left a groggy film over you, a pill-induced haze until the next dose kicked in. Until then, my ass was being handed to me by Abigail. The only woman who had more of an effect than all my pills combined.
She didn’t notice me leaning against my office door watching her take out the spare outfit she kept in her office drawer, like the control freak I knew her as. I couldn’t hold in the snicker when her head snapped my direction. “I’m not staying in these clothes all day for people to notice. I’m already late.”
Abigail was tense when she spiraled out of control. Not the kind of tense that seemed so uptight there was no hope; those girls weren’t fun to play around with.
With a hand waving her on, I walked into my office—the unused, worthless thing it was. Being forced to work a 9 to 5 gig when I couldn’t actually kill anyone here was my parents way of keeping an eye on me. Vic, too, was the poster boy for the Clave, and was an easy to rat type.
Finally reading my text messages that I had ignored all morning, I saw each person as problems—ones I didn't want to deal with. They were all unique and frustrating in their own ways.
KHAOS: Your mom asked my mom when you’d be here today. Jessica is in town… don’t say I didn’t warn you.
VIC: We need to talk about the Zeus meeting. I’m unavoidable.
BOWEN: Found his weakness. Some blonde attached to his hip. Guess who you get to kidnap? She’s hot, if you’re into blondes.
BOWEN: I’m not… to be clear.
I slumped into the office chair, with my legs out wide. My beanie still favored my left side, covering up the Virgo tattoo I got on a dare. Losing a dare with these three guys bored at a boarding school in the middle of nowhere always meant you wore that loss forever. I had come to like it now, but I wasn’t convinced the stars really meant anything other than dying stardust lighting up the sky.
The frosted glass made it hard to see if anyone was coming, if Jessica was in fact in town, and somehow feeling the need to drop by the office.
Fucking Clave members.
All bulldozing their way into whatever they wanted. It would be like my mother to conspire after seeing Abigail half naked.
I was on edge the entire time, expecting her to show up uninvited. As the day went on uneventfully, the feeling grew; the anticipation crawled over and under my bones. It wasn’t until I went to leave, standing next to Abigail at her desk, that I felt the tension ease some, telling her I could drive her back to my place for her car. No offense to her, but I wasn’t driving the standard ass Mercedes the Clave provided.
I was pretty sure it was bugged, and I couldn’t trust her enough to not say everything she wanted to.
“What? It’s only 3:06. Work isn’t over til 4…” Her face looked offended for no damn reason, when all of it hit me at once. This wasn’t a fucking act. This was Abigail at her finest—controlling, overachieving, model employee.
Miss Perfect had a thing for monsters.
“Offer expires in ten minutes.” I left her to stew in her glory of not breaking any rules, while I headed for the kitchen for a Red Bull. I was leaving early. I gave Jessica and my mom enough of my time to show up and ruin my day.
Abigail followed me, whisper-yelling, like leaving early was a direct violation to whoever the fuck this girl answered to. “What do you mean the offer expires? You drove me here. My car is at your house.”
That was another thing I came to love about her: her need to state the obvious. She thought she was the only one seeing logic in her observations.
“I’m leaving. Do you want a ride back to my place? That ride leaves in…” Looking down at my watch, I continued, “…7 minutes now.”
I could feel the cold front breezing off of her crossed arms against her chest. I couldn’t decide which was more annoying: Abigail being uptight or Abigail being silent.
Walking back to my office to grab my phone and beanie, I heard Jessica’s voice. The thick Russian accent was hard to blend into the office chatter.
Fuck.
Now I’m stuck between Abigail and Jessica, not a place I wanted to be sandwiched. These women were the fucking clash of the Titans.
Jessica glided over in her heels, practically walking on water, heading straight for me. Cracking open my Red Bull, I gulped it down in two big gulps, even though it wasn’t going to work as a cure for avoiding this.
Jessica’s hand landed on my arm, giving my bicep a squeeze with a smile. “Jason. I’ve been looking for you. We have good time at the estate, no?”
Fuck my fucking life.
Miss Goody-Two-Shoes is the reason this is happening. If she had just said yes, we would be in the second elevator avoiding the look on her face right now. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Abigail, a kind of mad that made her eyes squint and her tongue bully her cheek into keeping silent.
Fuck my life.
“What are you doing here, Jessica?”
“I came for you. The sad boy with big brown eyes with all these tattoos. I am intrigued. You understand, no?”
Understanding a crazy Russian who was willing to Google how to use a musket hours before using it was not something that translated. There was a language barrier so strong I felt almost sane in comparison.
“Jessica, nothing went on up at the estate. I slept in my car.” Pushing her hand off my arm, I was hoping it was enough.
“Little girl, we’re having a private conversation. We have such a good time in your childhood room.” Her hand found my forearm instead, staining more of me with her crazy.
Grabbing her hands and holding them together, I couldn’t coddle Abigail right now. This kind of crazy needed to be contained right away. “Jessica, I don’t know what or who you did, but it wasn’t me. I can promise you that.” Letting go of her hands, I grabbed Abigail's wrist, trying to say it all in one look. I’m sure she had rules like using your words, don’t speak unless spoken to, if you have nothing nice to say… shit like that.
Abigail pulled her wrist out of my grip so quickly without any words for me to go on.
If you have nothing nice to say…
Standing closer to her, I whispered into her space, “Please, go get my phone and beanie. We’re leaving.”
Pushing past me, she extended a hand towards the enemy, “I’m Abigail. You’re Jessica? Hi.”
My eyes went wide, and my hands glued to my hips, watching her not listen to me for the millionth time since I’ve been her boss.
“You’re his secr
etary or something?” Jessica’s thick accent was bitch mode all the way.
“Actually, last night—” Clamping my hand over her mouth from behind, I had no choice but to stop those words from coming out. Jessica was too close to my mom, and my mom wasn’t going to stand for Abigail to be the girl I settled down with, in a few years when the uncommitted life came to an end.
It was customary that our parents picked our wives for us. It wasn’t a choice, not when and not who.
Whispering in her ear as I held her back against my chest, my hand still over her mouth, “I’m your boss, Abigail. Just please listen to me, just this once. Get my fucking phone and hat so we can leave.”
She was lucky I said please.
Khaos wandered into the kitchen, probably hungry or suffering a sugar high crash, when he basically bull in a china shopped his way to the fridge. Letting go of Abigail, she shoved her hand into my ribs, pushing me off her, just before she headed for my office.
Jessica leaned into me, with her hand on my chest, trying her best to seduce me. “Finally, alone. Show me your place.”
“Look, I get it. My mom convinced you to come over her and play up whatever the fuck you think happened. Nothing happened. I can assure you, I slept in my car.” Backing away from her, Khaos’s hand landed on my shoulder so I wouldn’t crash into him listening in.
“Hey, Jessica, why don’t you wait downstairs? I’ll pep talk him, and he’ll meet you down there…” Khaos was the mastermind behind carrying on a conversation. The rest of us four weren’t as talented.
I watched Jessica listen to him with no real issue as she walked away, leaving me alone with Khaos. He threw his hands up. “Don’t be mad.”
If Khaos had a catch phrase, it would be those exact words. He was the type to do it anyways and apologize later. Permission was overrated.
Fixing my nose rings on either side of my nose, I crossed my arms and waited for whatever fuck up Khaos managed this time. That was the foundation of our relationship: He would fuck up, and I would be the one he came to, not Vic or Bo. It wasn’t even to fix it, but to unburden himself.
“So I came looking for you, and I found little Miss Russian Barbie blindfolded, begging to be taken. I knew you weren’t gonna enjoy that, so…”
Shaking my head, more annoyed than anything, I walked away before he got to the details I knew he was itching to tell someone. I found Abigail sitting at her desk, typing away on her laptop and ignoring me with such precision I had to think if I was really there or if this was some kind of hallucination.
“What are you doing? We’re leaving.”
“I think you’re leaving. I’m working.” All cutthroat and all sour.
“Abigail. Get up. We’re leaving.”
She wouldn’t even look at me. I was standing there, waiting for any kind of hint to how she felt or a chance to explain. I wasn’t stupid. I knew she was floored by Jessica showing up. Hell, so was I.
With my hand flat on her desk, I leaned over, bearing all my weight on my hand. “I’m not playing games with you. Get the fuck up. We are leaving, Abigail. I’ll explain shit in the fucking car.”
After a long minute, she finally pushed out her chair and stood up, grabbing her bag aggressively.
What’s worse than ‘fuck my life’?
Grabbing my phone and hat really quickly, I found myself taking big steps, not wanting to give her more time to stew. My hand clamped around her elbow, guiding her towards the elevators. “I’m not talking to you right now.”
Sucking in air, I tried to breathe through how aggrieved I felt. The Clave, my mom, Jessica… my whole life was aggravating. I lived for control, under the fucking assumption I had control, when really I had none.
I slammed the door to my car, pushed the start button, and barely waited for the engines to fire before I swerved out of the garage at an alarming speed. The anger always gave the monster in me a license to be reckless, while the silence gleamed between us.
“Who is Jessica? What happened at the estate?”
“Jessica is the girl I’m supposed to marry in two years when our fathers retire and we take their places.”
“And you fucked her at the estate? Was she allowed to make you come?” Her voice hissed the words out.
“I’m not talking about this. I said nothing happened, so nothing happened.”
“Well, that’s not good enough for me.”
I had a feeling nothing was good enough for her. It was an attitude or standards; it was an accurate depiction of how I saw Abigail. Too good for us all.
“Why, Abigail? Because you can’t control me too?!” The palm of my hand slammed against the steering wheel, only so I wouldn’t break anything else. I wanted to break everything. I wanted to kill everything that didn’t make me feel the way she did.
When she didn’t respond, I glanced her way to see her lip quivering and eyes filling up with water. I had yelled at her. Well, my monster had, but I was gonna take the blame.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Now she’s gonna cry.
“You’re so beyond being controlled that it’s comical, asshole. You stomp around doing and saying exactly what you want with little regard for anyone else. Throwing that elitism status in everyone’s face.” She practically shouted the words at me, with rage flicking off her body and making sure I got hit.
“I’m a fucking warning sign, Abigail. One you didn’t bother reading before you broke that rule.”
She sunk back into her seat and went mute the rest of the way back to my house. I expected it. Hell, on some level I deserved it.
ABIGAIL
One you didn’t bother reading before you broke that rule.
His words played on a loop inside my head, weighing me down to the leather seat and forcing my gaze out the pitch black tint of his windows.
I read all the signs, and I did nothing to heed his warnings.
I broke my own rule to read the goddamn rule before I broke it. If I took the time to read Grimm, I would have talked myself out of breaking that one. Instead I let his obvious looks and his obvious uniqueness drag me by the hair deeper into his trap.
That’s the thing with bad boys with pretty faces: They’re everything inviting so you don’t see the bite coming.
Let me save you the pain; that bite has fucking teeth because you were dumb enough to fall for their tricks.
Meeting Jessica sent every petty emotion on high alert. In my mind, I stopped to the level of making fun of her accent and inappropriate lip color for the daytime. I even called her a cheap hooker, which I know isn’t nice, but you stand there in my shoes. You get sloppy drunk, show up at Grimm’s house, have the best orgasm of your life (the kind where your legs literally don’t work after), then witness his previous fuck squeeze his arm saying his real name like she won the privilege.
None of it had to be true for it to hurt the way it did.
Grimm was my boss, and here I was sulking over his sex life that excluded me.
“So it was just a drunk mistake?” I was thinking it, but the words appeared before me instead for Grimm to hear.
“I was sober. You were drunk.”
He didn’t answer the real question, only making observations that we both knew already.
“So my mistake, right?”
I hadn’t had time to process what his generosity in bed meant yet. He was still my boss, and Grimm looked like a hard pass on relationships.
“Abigail.”
“No worries. Got it. Cool. I’m not Jessica. I don’t scream sex and throw my pussy at every hot guy.”
Again, petty and unfair, but it was pleasing the angry parts.
“I didn’t fuck her, Abigail. Khaos did. I don’t have to share the minor fucking details of my life with you. She’s just some girl who failed to earn my attention. If you left when I asked, just listened to me for fucking once, we would have avoided all that and this.” His hand waved over me like I was the this he was referencing.
“Typical fuc
king asshole. Nothing is your fault, right? If you were honest with me about working for the Clave, about who you are, actually be my boss… none of this would be happening.”
“How does that fix how you look at me, Abigail?” He didn’t even wait for a response when he pulled down his driveway and got out of his car so fast it was obvious he was running away.
All the pretty ones did. When it comes to arguing, they completely called it quits, preserving every ounce of good looking from the aging of stress.
Getting out of his spaceship after searching for the fucking door handle longer than anyone should, I got out. “How do I look at you? Seriously? What about how you look at me?”
I didn’t expect Grimm to turn around and close the space so quickly between us. My butt pressed against the car door, and my chin was turned up. I stubbornly made eye contact like the lead he had on my height was easily demolished just by looking up, even though he seemed to tower over me.
“You know exactly what I fucking mean. You don’t just look at me like you want me to fuck you. It’s like you can love me—broken or not. Me of all people.” He paused only long enough for me to swallow that horse pill. “Exit is that way, toots.”
I watched Grimm head into his house, leaving me with all this information I didn’t know what to do with.
Did I look at him in such an accepting way he saw love?
Did I give him false hope?
Did I cause this?
I felt like a monster, even though I knew he was right. I could love him. I could always love the ones who needed it most. I could love him simply for his talents in bed, but I wasn’t that shallow. All the dark and twisty parts of him turned me on more than his other assets. His dark parts spoke to the chaotic I hadn’t seen since the need to control took over.
The chaotic, messy, disordered parts of life died the minute the PTSD decided to not let up until I found a way to combat it.
Pulling the keys from my purse, I got into my car, still fuming from everything. All the words knocked around in my head and the contempt grew at him being not only pretty and privileged but right.
