by Kira Barker
Darren gathered me close, cradling me in his arms as his hand stroked my back, letting me lean on him in more than just the physical sense. He kept on like that until I pushed away from him, my eyes still hurting. I paused for a moment, then walked into the bedroom to undress and clean up the mess my crying had left on my face. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I wondered for the first time if this was really worth it. Yes, I loved Darren, but I had been doing just fine on my own when I still had my job. Being with him was special, sure, but I hadn’t felt so damn uprooted and alone before. Was it really just insecurity, as he claimed, that made me feel like I didn’t belong, or was I simply not cut out for this life?
With any answer still eluding me, I slid into bed five minutes later, turning onto my side, facing away from Darren. It only took him moments to cozy up to me, but I didn’t react when he first brushed the side of my breast, then let his hand slide down to my thigh.
“Not in the mood?” he whispered, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Kind of served him right after the way he’d talked to me earlier, I figured.
“Not really. Good night.”
He paused, then rolled over, away from me, and I fell asleep an eternity later, still not knowing what to do.
In the morning, I found the other side of the bed empty, with Darren long gone. No kiss good morning, no note, no nothing.
Chapter 26
Sunday dragged on forever, but even when the new week started, things didn’t change for me. I still had nothing to do, I had no intention of following up on any of the insincere invitations I had received, and in the few minutes I saw Darren, he was acting rather distant.
It had been years since I had been in a relationship, but even so I could tell that things weren’t going well between us. It wasn’t like the fire was gone—there was one instance on Wednesday night that ended with me panting against the library wall, him taking me from behind—but now there was something else in that space between us besides passion, love, and an innate need to be with each other. Or maybe it was absence of something, I couldn’t say, but it deeply disturbed me.
I looked up creative courses next—painting, pottery, something like that, but those would have just been a distraction for a few hours. I needed something more; I needed a cause in my life. So I went one step higher and drove into the city to peruse a few art galleries, not quite knowing what I was looking for, but sure that I would recognize it when I saw it.
What I saw were lovebirds everywhere. Touching, kissing, smiling at each other—the entire city was overrun by people lost in each other’s madness. I knew that I was getting grumpy when I sneered rather than smiled at a couple of teenagers holding hands as I passed them on the sidewalk. With that realization came annoyance, then rage, pain, and finally sadness. I needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand—and that someone couldn’t be Darren because he was as much part of the problem as I hoped that he would be part of the solution.
So I did what I’d vowed myself not to do—I called Brigitte.
With my old, dedicated phone in the lock box at Adam’s, I had to use my normal phone, which in and of itself was strange. It felt sacrilegious somehow, as if I was breaking one of the golden rules of conduct. There was a reason why I’d always had a different phone for her, and not just for paranoid or legal reasons. As my madam, she’d taken a very special place in my life, one that I had to admit I didn’t exactly miss.
But what I was in terrible need of was a friend right now, and while she’d often been the one pulling my reins and whipping me on, she’d also been there to comfort and support me just as often, if not more.
All of that went through my head as I waited for the connection to be established, then the call to go through. Three rings, five, ten, and I was starting to wonder if she would even pick up. She could be spiteful, so I didn’t hold it beyond her to punish me by ignoring me. But, underneath all that tough bitch attitude that she had to have in her line of work, she was also a good person and likely knew that if I called now, it wouldn’t be to gloat.
A moment before the call could go to voice mail, I heard the telltale static of her picking up.
“I would say, ‘what a surprise,’ but really, I’ve been waiting for this call for almost a week now,” she opened with, her voice even.
At least she wasn’t jeering at me from the start, which was something, I figured.
“Why—miss me?” I quipped, then scrunched my eyes shut when my voice almost broke. Oh, great. I couldn’t even fool my old madam for five seconds.
“Actually, yes, which kind of surprised me,” she admitted, her voice now taking on a harder, more normal tone. Just because she could be gentle didn’t mean she showed that side of hers often. “So how is life in your gilded cage?”
“Cagey,” I replied, then snorted. “Not too bad, though. I am allowed to take any of the cars out for a joyride whenever I want. I’m quite fond of the Jaguar.”
“Beautiful cars,” she purred. “May I presume from your comment that the honeymoon phase is over? And you didn’t even get hitched for that, or did you? Last I heard you’re engaged, and not quite the city’s hottest new commodity where dinner parties are concerned.”
Why I was surprised that she was still keeping tabs on me, I didn’t know, but it was oddly comforting.
“It’s a tough crowd when everyone just sees you as the whore, as you very well know.”
Her laugh was as rich as it was real.
“Do I ever. And I distinctly told you that this was going to happen,” she reminded me.
“If I should accept your offer and take over the business for you,” I amended.
“That offer still stands. I could really use a hand with the books, and there are a couple of new girls interested in joining. With the economy being what it is…”
“That’s not why I called,” I replied, although I couldn’t help but wonder for a moment how things would change if I accepted. For one, I wouldn’t be bored out of my mind. Then again, the day I embarked on this new journey would likely be the last time I’d ever see Darren.
“A shame, really. Then pray tell, to what do I owe the honor of your call?”
I hesitated and took a deep breath to keep on stalling, but there really was no sense to that.
“I need a friend.”
“Don’t you have dear Darren now? Last time we talked, it sounded as if he was the solution to all your problems.”
“Not if he is the problem,” I admitted.
“Ah,” was all she replied, but there was a world of meaning in that one word.
“It’s not bad,” I amended quickly. “Just not as good as it could be. I think.”
Brigitte took a long time to reply, and it was only when she spoke again that I realized that she was debating with herself how to react. It touched me deeply that the friend won out over the madam.
“All relationships have ups and downs. You rushed into things, so it makes sense that now that the initial momentum is gone, reality is bitch-slapping you. I presume that the problems are not of a sexual nature?”
That last part she said with a playful lilt, making me chuckle in spite of myself.
“I wish. There are easy solutions for that.”
“So what is it that ails you? Is he ignoring you? Not attentive enough? Expecting you to jump when he snaps his fingers and roll over and be happily enthusiastic to receive him whenever he gets a stiffie?”
I hated how easily she could cut to the chase. It made me feel very normal, and stupid about feeling so lost.
“Kind of,” I grudgingly agreed.
“Which one?”
“All of them,” I replied. “Plus he keeps telling me that I have to stop loading the weight of the world on my shoulders because I feel like everyone is judging me for being a whore.”
“Former whore,” she pointed out succinctly.
“Wasn’t it you who once told me that once a whore, always a whore?” I quippe
d back. “And with the way they were looking at me at that party, you’d think I’d done nothing all evening long than molest their husbands. It was disgusting.”
“Don’t I know it,” she murmured, then paused. “You know, you really shouldn’t feel bad about what you’ve been doing. We both know that it always goes way beyond sex, and maybe there would be a few less lunatics out there shooting people for no reason if they fucked a hooker more often.”
I shrugged, even though I knew that she couldn’t see it.
“It’s not exactly that I feel bad, but it’s just who I am. Do you know what I mean? Not in a derogatory way, but realistically. I’ve been an escort for fourteen years, almost the entire length of my adult, sexually active life. I can’t just shake that from one moment to the next.”
“And you shouldn’t,” she agreed, sounding sad now. “Penelope, I really don’t know what to tell you. You are well aware of my opinion regarding your decision, and I am well aware of your opinion regarding my opinion. All that comes to mind is talk to him. If he’s really the love of your life, maybe you’ll find a way. But if you’re already having issues that get between you, it’s probably for the best if you quit before everything goes up in flames.”
As diplomatic as her words were, they still left a stale taste in my mouth.
“So that’s your answer, just leave him and go back to putting out?”
She took her time to phrase her answer.
“Honestly, yes. I think right now it would do you good to fill your schedule from morning to midnight and fuck him right out of your system. To tear him down from the pedestal you’ve put him on and just make him one of many other guys again. Will it hurt? Yes. But you’ll move on, and in a few months from now it will be nothing but a faintly painful memory.”
Part of me wanted to accept right then and there, and that realization deeply disgusted me. How could I be so heartless? How could I just move on, as Brigitte had phrased it? Sure, it would have been the easy way—avoid conflict except for that one huge fight, then put everything behind me and just let myself drift along with what I was familiar with until I resurfaced later, all emotions and feelings drowned in the meaninglessness of life. Exactly the kind of life that had felt like its own kind of hell the last few days I had lived it, and that I had been so damn glad to put behind me.
Things between Darren and me weren’t perfect, but I hadn’t expected them to be. But talking to Brigitte now, hearing her clear-cut, calculated plan masquerading as good advice made me realize that I’d made the right decision, even though it wasn’t an easy one.
“This was a bad idea,” I replied when eventually my mind quieted down again.
A sigh answered me, and from that sound alone I could tell that Brigitte’s anger was finally surfacing.
“Don’t call me again unless you’re ready to come crawling back. My time is too valuable to waste it on a stupid girl who has already given up on herself.”
Then she hung up, leaving me glaring at the phone but once again sure that forward was the only way to go.
Chapter 27
With my faith renewed, I set out to make sure that Darren and I would get over this little bump in our relationship. At least that’s what I was telling myself our temporary issue was—a small problem that we had to conquer which would eventually help us grow closer and build a firmer base.
Maybe I should be considering a career in writing self-help books? Or maybe not.
I’d called Brigitte late in the morning, so I still had the entire rest of the day to wait for Darren to—hopefully—return early from work so we could sit down, have a lengthy conversation, maybe have sex, and move on. Thinking about that now, I realized that likely it was all based on misunderstandings. He kept appealing to my rational side, and for the past weeks I had let my emotions run rampant. That had never happened to me on the job, but then keeping things to business strictly without intimate involvement had been key. Maybe figuring out how to live together wasn’t that different.
The first obstacle I saw was having that conversation at home. That was Darren’s turf still, and he had place and opportunity aplenty to avoid me, as he’d proven over the last couple of days. Just because we were in the same building, or sometimes even the same room, didn’t mean that we actually got to talk to each other.
There was an easy solution to that, which was having our conversation elsewhere. With an entire city full of restaurants and bars, it shouldn’t be that difficult to find a place that would accept reservations and give us some privacy.
But as I kept mentally scrolling through my options, I realized that I had another problem. Now that I knew what to do, I was positively vibrating with energy, and waiting until tonight sounded more and more like the first circle of hell to me. So I did what any not-exactly sane person would do and decided to swing by his office after calling the recalcitrant receptionist to make sure that he was in and hadn’t scheduled any appointments with clients over lunch.
I arrived just before the earliest of early lunchers would be out and about, sure that I would be able to intercept any plans he’d made. As I swept in, I was lucky not to run into anyone I actually knew, and the receptionist I ignored, so I went straight on down the hallway to Darren’s office. The door was open, always a good sign, so I put my most winning smile on my face and walked in.
He was sitting at his desk—no surprise there—scrolling through something on his screen while a stack of files lay open before him. Also on the desk was perched a perky twenty-something in a tight blouse and even tighter pencil skirt, half obscuring the files but giving a very good view of her cleavage.
This was not what I had been expecting.
Both Darren and the brunette looked up as I came to a halt just inside the door. Immediately, a frown appeared on Darren’s face while the girl just blinked stupidly at me.
“Can I help you?” she asked as if I hadn’t just walked in on… whatever it was that I had walked in on. Then her voice registered, or rather the light accent, and I realized that she must be his assistant. He had mentioned her before, a very promising paralegal currently studying law in what couldn’t be much free time, but somehow he had forgotten to tell me that she was more bombshell than shy mouse. Not that I felt threatened or anything, but there was only one reason for a woman to wear an outfit like that, and it had nothing to do with comfort or professionalism.
“I’m here to talk with my fiancé,” I said, trying not to sound like a bitch but probably failing.
Neither Darren nor his assistant looked impressed.
“We are busy right now. Maybe if you come by later…?” the girl suggested, her tone still perfectly guileless.
Darren, though, was a different case. Our brief exchange had given him time aplenty to make up his mind, and clearly he was not happy to see me here—again.
“Didn’t we talk about you showing up unannounced?” he asked as if speaking to a child. Half of my good intentions went up in flame, but I dug my claws into the other half and hung on for dear life.
“I called your receptionist and she assured me that you weren’t seeing any clients today and had no court appointments,” I explained. “It’s almost lunch time. I’m sure you can make a little room for me? This is important.”
He was still frowning, but after a moment he turned to his assistant.
“Take five. And talk to Stacy about the copies we requested. They should already have arrived.”
“Will do,” the girl replied, then slid off the desk with more ease than should be humanly possible. On the way out, she closed the door behind her.
Five minutes didn’t sound like enough, but I figured I’d make the best out of that. Only that Darren never let me get even a word of my carefully crafted speech out before he tore into me.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“Kidnapping you for lunch hour?” I tried humor first, but when I saw that I didn’t get through to him, I switched course. “We need to tal
k. Now. If that’s impossible, then in the evening, but as things are right now, they cannot continue. This is driving me batshit crazy, and I know that you’re feeling about the same.”
Something crossed his features but was gone too quickly to make sense of—a look of dread paired with conviction?—and his voice was still hard as he replied.
“As you can see, I don’t have time for this right now, and I’ll likely need to stay late for the case. Can you maybe not drag your artificial drama into my office? We can discuss whatever it is that is irking you now when I get home.”
If I’d ever heard a dismissal, it was this. It hurt, but already the voice at the back of my head was laughing at me. What did I expect? That he’d miraculously make a place in his busy life when I had so obviously been delegated to the sidelines?
“This is all you have to say? We’ll talk later?” I asked, incapable of keeping accusation out of my voice.
“What else is there to say?” he asked, completely neutral.
“You know, maybe Brigitte has a point,” I mused. “Maybe I should just cut my losses and go back to my old life. At least there I was valued by the guys who were screwing me, which is not what I’m feeling from you right now.”
At the mention of her name he went rigid, his entire body tensing.
“You talked to Brigitte?”
It was probably petty, but a tiny part of me enjoyed getting under his skin.
“Yes, I called her. Am I not allowed to talk to my friends anymore?”
“Brigitte is not your friend,” he growled, his eyes narrowing.
“Actually, she is. All things considered, she has always had my best interest in mind.”
He snorted, the sound shy of derision.
“You weren’t quite that fond of her when she let Ray have his way with you,” he pointed out.
“And whose fault was that, huh?” I shot back, not caring that I was probably making an ass of myself should none of Ray’s tales have any validity to them.
