He stroked my cheek adoringly, not even cringing at the tiny beads of sweat that had sprouted in the last 30 seconds. Then he smiled, emitting warmth and comfort in that simple gesture, telling me that it was ok. That I was safe and he was there to, once again, catch me.
His eyes flickered up, and he held a finger up to someone, telling them he’d be with them in a moment. Then he squatted so he and I were eye level, and took my face in his hands.
“You scared me,” he whispered. The pads of his thumbs drew circles on the apples of my cheeks. “How are you feeling?”
I nodded, but I couldn’t find it in me to tell him I was okay, because I knew I never would be. I would always be a nervous fucking wreck, successfully ruining any hopes of a normal relationship.
I swallowed, though my mouth was as dry and thick as cotton. “I’m sorry.” It seemed like the right thing to say.
“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about.” A small frown rested between his brows. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did nothing wrong.”
With his hands still cradling my cheeks, I wanted to believe him. His touch did strange things to me, including making me ignore the warning signs that could have helped us to avoid this drama.
“I’m going to get you some water. Will you be ok to sit here for just a second?”
I smiled my most convincing smile, despite being completely humiliated. “I’m fine. I feel normal now.” I tried to get up to prove it, but Blaine quickly dampened my efforts.
“No, sit here. Don’t try to stand yet. Let me get some water and food in you first.”
I sat idly, feeling like an invalid, while Blaine fetched a cold bottle of water and a basket of fries from the kitchen. He demanded I at least try to eat and drink while he apologized to the waiting customers and quickly filled their orders. I told him I could help, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. I wasn’t about to argue and draw even more attention to myself.
When I had consumed enough food and fluids to appease Blaine, I excused myself to the ladies room to freshen up. Mascara had settled in the corners of my eyes, and sweat-drenched strands of hair stuck to my neck and forehead. I looked like a hot, sweaty mess, and it only added to my embarrassment. I fixed myself as well as I possibly could and made my way back to the front. I needed to work my ass off and redeem myself. Plus, if I appeared busy, maybe Blaine wouldn’t question what brought on the sudden episode.
However, my game plan was quickly forgotten when I spied a pair of boobs practically playing patty-cake with Blaine’s face.
Neither Blaine nor his “friend” noticed when I reentered the bar until I asked a customer if they needed to be helped. It was obvious that Blaine was too busy helping himself to two Slippery Nipples.
“Oh, uh, I don’t know if you two have met, but Kami this is Wendy, an old friend from high school. Wendy this is Dive’s hot new commodity, Kami.”
I rolled my eyes at Blaine’s description of me. It was a typical man move—trying to diffuse the situation with flattery or humor instead of just admitting that he was a super-douche. I shook off my annoyance and quickly gave Wendy a tight smile and a wave. There was no way I was letting him know I was bothered.
“Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing,” Wendy remarked in her heavy southern accent. All that was missing were daisy dukes, blonde pigtails and mid-drift top adorned with cherries. “The guys here must just eat you up, huh? I bet that CJ has been puttin’ the moves on you. You certainly are his type.” Her eyes ran the length of my body as she took a sip of her Appletini. Typical.
“Is that so?” I replied flippantly. “And what type is that?”
“Oh you know…the ethnic girls. The wild, exotic ones,” she explained with a straight face, free of shame or embarrassment. This chick was describing me like I was some rare breed of bird, and she was totally convinced that it was ok! Wow, just…wow.
“CJ isn’t getting anywhere near her,” Blaine snapped before I could respond to her ignorance. Both our eyes were on him as his expression suddenly turned cold.
“Oh well,” Wendy shrugged, waving off his odd outburst. “Anyway, Blaine, I was thinking I would hang out and wait for you until you close up for the night. You never did get to show me your truck like you promised. I guess neither one of us were thinkin’ about it that night.”
For the second time in the past hour, I felt sick. But it was for a totally different reason this time. It wasn’t out of fear or anxiety. It was out of sheer anger and disgust. Blaine was just talking about being alone with me tonight for…I don’t know what. And now he’s making plans with some big-boobed bimbo?
I should have seen it coming. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the concern he showed when I nearly fainted. I knew the kindness in his smile was generic. The moment Blaine saw that I wasn’t a sure bet for the night, he moved on. And, judging by the pure lust that dripped from Wendy’s glossy pink lips, he’d be moving right into her in a couple hours.
I thrust myself into serving, even offering to help out the waitresses after I had wiped down every surface behind the bar. I could feel Blaine trying to catch my gaze, but I refused to look at him. I had to admit, he was good. He’d almost made me believe that he was something other than what I had always feared. But a tiger can’t change his stripes, no matter how hard he tries to mask them.
True to her word, Wendy stuck around, tossing back drinks and dancing to the music coming from the jukebox. Blaine only spoke to her when she needed a refill, but I chalked it up to him being embarrassed about getting caught. I would have preferred he be upfront about being an asshole. I would have respected him more and it would give the ache in my chest meaning. My suffering wouldn’t be in vain.
After the bar was mostly empty and the waitresses had cashed out their tips, I popped into the back to retrieve my belongings. Mick was gone, delaying my plan to apologize for my behavior and assure him that I would never be caught flirting with Blaine again. Ever. When I returned to the front of the house, the lights were dimmed, and everyone had left for the night. Even Wendy and her twin flotation devices.
“If there’s nothing else…” I said quietly, fixing my eyes to the exit sign. It was so close. Soon I’d be free to scream, punch pillows and eat insane amounts of ice cream. Too bad Angel and the girls had a gig out in Raleigh. I really needed one of her man-bashing sessions, and no one did that better than Angel.
“Kami, wait,” Blaine said, leaning against the bar.
“Look, Blaine,” I said, spinning towards him. He was keeping me from Ben & Jerry, the only other guys I loved even more than Dom, and it was annoying the hell out of me. “Whatever you were hoping for, forget it. I’m not the girl you’re looking for. I’m not going to waltz in here with my tits propped up to my chin to get your attention. I’m not going to hang onto your every word like a fucking puppy. And I’m not interested in seeing your truck, hanging out after work, or being alone with you. I’m not the girl, ok? So whatever bullshit you were just about to feed me, save it. You’re off the hook. Goodnight and goodbye, Blaine.”
I turned towards the refuge of the exit, trying to keep my eyes trained on those glowing red letters to avoid looking back at Blaine’s confused expression. When I hit the night air, still muggy and warm despite the late hour, I sucked in a deep breath, gulping down oxygen to combat the sob rising in my throat. Not here, not in public. I wouldn’t let myself crumble.
In my devastated state, I hadn’t even noticed my surroundings. Had I been paying attention, my senses not diluted with thoughts of Blaine, I would have been fisting my keys. I would have kept my head down and walked swiftly to my car. And I would have noticed a darkly dressed figure approaching me just as I was feet away from my vehicle.
“Hey, girl, come here. Whatchu doing out here all by yourself?”
I didn’t answer. I just kept rummaging through my purse, praying that my trembling hands would find my car keys before fear completely washed over me. I could feel it—the building anxiety causing my extremities to l
ock up. I wanted to run, wanted to scream, but once the fear had seeped into my bones and attacked my senses, it was impossible. I couldn’t hear the man taunting me anymore. Couldn’t even hear the sounds of gravel crunching under his boots as he stalked closer to me. Finding those keys was the only thing my mind could focus on.
The moment I felt the stranger’s hand grip my forearm, I yelped, causing the sob in my chest to break free. He reeked of hard liquor, dirt and body odor, and my stomach roiled in response. I froze. I should have fought, should have yelled for help, but I couldn’t. I had shut down, letting my thoughts wander into the darkest places in my mind. The places I never visited, for fear that I would never be able to return...
I was just a little girl, completely helpless, useless, and defenseless. I knew fighting would only make Daddy mad. And when he got mad, he hurt me more. Every time Daddy hurt me, Mommy would try to stop him, earning the full brunt of his anger. It was better to just stay still and let him have his fun. It made him happy. Making Daddy happy was what Mommy and I always tried to do. Even if that meant slowly killing ourselves in the process.
Something began to tug at me, pulling me away from the bleak fog of remembrance. I still couldn’t escape it. The memory had taken hold and refused to let me go, clawing into me, making me relive every single sordid second. But whoever was pulling me to safety, freeing me from myself, was much stronger.
I could hear his voice, asking me if I was ok, telling me I was safe. My body was crushed against his, a crumpled, trembling mess of tears and sweat. We were on the ground, the hardness of the concrete unnoticed by me, as I rocked back and forth, my knees drawn up to my chest. When he pulled back a bit to assess my face, it was my undoing. Those brown eyes, wise beyond their years, full of so much concern and fear for me, snatched me away from the hell of my memories completely and brought me back to the present.
The scream that pierced the night air sounded unnatural, like a wounded animal’s cry. I didn’t recognize it though it had come from me. I couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop rocking back and forth as I squeezed my knees impossibly tight. I bawled until there was no more agony in me to dispel. Then I cried some more.
“Kami! Kami, I need you to calm down. Look at me. Look at me and try to understand what I am saying,” Blaine said urgently.
I locked eyes with his, letting his touch, his smell, permeate my senses. I needed to calm down, and I needed to trust him. I didn’t know why, but that is exactly what I wanted to do.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, cradling my tear-stained face once my shrieks had quieted to whimpers. “Do you want me to call the police? An ambulance? Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
I shook my head furiously, squeezing my eyes shut. “No,” I croaked hoarsely. “I’m ok. I just need to go home. I need to go home, Blaine.”
“Ok, let’s get you up. Do you need me to carry you?”
I shook my head once again but made no move to stand. I couldn’t. I was still utterly frozen with fear. I didn’t even know how I had gotten in that position on the ground. The last thing I remembered was searching for my keys then…
I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt too heavy. Too tight. I struggled to fight for just the tiniest breath, yet oxygen had abandoned me.
“Breathe, Kami. Breathe,” Blaine said soothingly, stroking my hair. He took deep, animated breaths as if to demonstrate them to me. I focused on his voice, his touch, those warm brown eyes, and followed his lead.
“Good. That’s good, baby,” he said softly. “Ok, I’m going to unwrap your arms now. Ok? Then we’re going to get up.”
I nodded, afraid that breath would escape me again if I tried to speak. Blaine gently placed his hands on mine and clutched my fingers. Though I couldn’t willingly release my death grip, he somehow freed my knees without resistance from me. Once my hands were balled at my sides, he brought his face close to mine, searching for signs of approval. When he wasn’t met with another scream or sob, he slid his hands under my arms and gently lifted me to my feet.
“Kami, I’m going to go into your purse and get your keys, ok?” he said, still supporting most of my weight. I nodded again, focusing on his soothing voice.
Not having his face to hold my gaze as he rummaged through my purse, my eyes roamed the area around us. They came upon a clump of dark clothing a few yards away, completely still in the night. I couldn’t see a face, but I knew what it was—who it was. Horror rocked me again and I hunched over and vomited, my body heaving violently as it pushed away the remembrance of his hands on me. Blaine jumped back, then maneuvered his body behind mine and gathered my hair in his hands. Once I was absolutely sure that I wouldn’t get sick again, he eased me into the passenger seat of my car.
“Kami…” Blaine turned to me, the steering wheel groaning under his tight grip. His face was full of confusion, pain…anger?
“You’re hurt,” I whispered, noticing his bloodied knuckles.
He shook his head, flexing his hands. “I’m fine. Not my blood.” He knitted his brows together, and then shook his head again. “I need to know where you live. You don’t want the cops, but I can bet that someone heard you screaming and called them. And that piece of shit might wake up soon. I really don’t want to spend the night in jail.”
For some God forsaken reason, his words sparked a memory.
“Did you hear what he did to that guy? I heard they released him from prison early for good behavior.”
I knew it was the most inopportune time for the thought to pop into my head, but I suddenly had the urge to ask him about what that girl said. But I wouldn’t. This wasn’t the time for sharing details of our dark pasts. It would never be the time for that.
I gave Blaine directions to Angel’s condo at The Madison in Uptown Charlotte. I could tell he wanted to ask questions—there was no way I could afford to live there on a bartender’s salary—but he just nodded and cranked up the car. We rode in companionable silence, neither one of us wanting to discuss the events of the evening. There was honestly nothing left to say, and I was thankful that Blaine didn’t push me to talk.
After pulling it together enough to greet the night doorman, we made our way to apt. 1202. Blaine insisted that he see me up to ensure I was ok, and I didn’t object. Having him close distracted my mind from what had just happened. My brain had somehow gone into recovery mode, erasing the moments before Blaine found me on the concrete. I was thankful. I didn’t want to know what he had found in that parking lot. I didn’t want to imagine his horror when he saw me cowering on the ground next to my car, shivering and sobbing into my knees.
The lavish apartment was empty when we entered. I knew Angel would be staying in Raleigh overnight, but I had no clue where Dom was. His car wasn’t parked in one of our assigned spaces, and the alarm system was set. It was unlike him to be out this late on a Sunday and I began to worry about someone other than myself.
“I’m going to make you some tea and run you a bath, ok?” he said once we stepped into living room.
“In my room,” I said nodding towards the hallway. “I have a bathroom in there.”
Without hesitating or thinking about his sore knuckles, Blaine grasped my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. Comfort filled me in a way I had never felt before. I wanted to believe that maybe he had sought the same comfort in my touch. Maybe he was scared too.
I led Blaine to my room, something I had never done. Ever. It was my sanctuary. My hideaway. The place I went to when the world got too big, and I felt too small. He pretended not to check it out and walked straight into my bathroom, his hand still in mine. When he pulled it away to start the water and pour in some bath salts, I nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.
“Ok, I’ll let you get undressed…and, um, uh…” His eyes roamed my fully dressed body before falling to the floor. It was as if he was ashamed of feeling flustered over the mention of me being naked. But at the moment, I was glad he still found me attract
ive. I needed it. Knowing that part of him still desired me after seeing me so broken made me feel better, almost whole again.
“Blaine?” I said, just as he turned to exit the bathroom that had suddenly felt small and intimate.
“Yeah?”
I needed to thank him for saving me. Tell him how much it meant to me that he was there. Explain to him what happened to me in that parking lot and earlier at the bar. I swallowed, the taste of vomit a reminder of the shackles that kept me bound in anxiety.
“The kitchen? Off to the right of the living room, past the formal dining room. Tea is in the cabinet over the stove.”
No, I couldn’t tell Blaine no matter how wonderful he had been. He was still a man. He was still one of them. He had the potential to hurt and abuse and torture. I wanted to believe that he was different, wanted to believe that I could be different, but facts were facts. I still wasn’t what he was looking for.
After he was gone, I eased open the bathroom door that Blaine had closed behind him, shakily letting out the breath I had been holding since he had left. I undressed, praying that he wasn’t peeking at me through the crack in the door. Then I attempted to scrub away the disgust and fear left behind by the evening’s events.
Several minutes later, after my skin was pink and raw and I had washed my hair, I heard a rustle behind the door.
“Kami? I’m, uh, I’ve got your tea, and I didn’t know if you wanted it now or later,” he said nervously, his back turned. It was almost endearing how nervous he was about me being naked just a few feet away from him.
“I’ll be right out,” I called, a sliver of a smile on my face. Before today, a man other than Dom in my personal space would have had me bent over, hyperventilating and trembling. Yet, having Blaine waiting for me on the other side of the door only brought me comfort. I felt cared for, even a little cherished, as I imagined him holding a soothing cup of tea for me.
I brushed my teeth furiously, then stepped out into my bedroom wearing only my terry cloth robe. Blaine was at the windowsill beside my bed looking at framed pictures of me and my roommates, and my collection of little trinkets. Ordinarily, the sight of his hands on my things, disrupting the order of each item, would have sent me into a panic, but for some strange reason, I was completely content. It only gave me the warm feelings of anticipation, eager for him to get just a tiny glimpse of Kamilla Duvall without the mask.
Fear of Falling Page 9
