Nightclub Surprise

by Michelle Love

  A set of blue eyes found mine as I looked at the woman seated next to him at the round table. “Natasha Granger, formerly Captain Granger of the Tenth Regiment.”

  “Ah, the Arm of Decision. Too many decisions you’d rather not have made—is that was brought you here?” I asked her as I shook her hand.

  “You could say that,” she answered. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a high ponytail.

  The first thing they’d done was give me a set of light blue scrubs to wear, and I found everyone else had them on, too. I’d been told this was because the MDMA could make some people hypersensitive to touch, so they tried to lessen this distraction with the soft, roomy material of the scrubs. The clinical staff all wore white sets of the same scrubs. The others workers in the facility all wore yellow scrubs. As I looked around, it seemed like something out of a sci-fi movie.

  One empty chair remained at the table, and one remaining person had yet to introduce herself to me: a quiet young woman with dark hair and eyes. Eyes that looked like they’d seen some shit. With a nod to the empty chair, I introduced myself to her, “Hi. August Harlow. Mind if I take this seat here?”

  “Do what you want to. Who am I to stop you?” she said, with a snarky tone to her deep voice.

  I took the seat. “And I didn’t catch your name?” I had to say.

  “Tillie,” she said, then took a large bite of her sandwich, chewing it as she looked at me.

  Natasha nudged me with her shoulder. “She’s an abuse victim,” she told me quietly. “Human trafficking, sold into sex slavery at the age of ten. Rescued last year by DEA agents.”

  Tillie’s deep voice took my attention. “My master was all I’d ever known. Now it seems I have no idea how to function in society. So, I came here to see if I can be taught.”

  “How old are you?” I asked with concern.

  “Twenty-one,” she said with her mouth full of food.

  No manners to speak of, it seemed, but who could blame her? “Your family?”

  She shook her head. “It was my father who sold me. Mom died when I was eight.”

  “Fuck me,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you find help here, Tillie.”

  I didn’t have anything compared to that poor girl.

  Tom looked across the table at me. “How long were you in for?”

  “Six years,” I said, then took a bite of the sandwich, finding it pretty good.

  “I barely made the two-year mark I’d signed up for. I can’t see how you did six.” He took a drink of water from the bottle in front of him, and I noticed there were already three empty bottles of water he’d already drunk.

  Natasha chimed in, “I made nearly ten years before this hit me. It was just like, bam! One day sane, the next day screaming at some poor lady in line at the grocery store for no reason other than that she moved too slowly.” She shook her head. “My husband told me I’d been waking up screaming, too. I don’t recall doing that.”

  “I’ve been doing things in my sleep, too,” I admitted. “And last night I hit my fiancé in the mouth, busting her lip, then went so far as to choke her. I don’t remember any of it. But the cut on her lip and the marks my fingers left on her throat told me all I needed to know. I had to get help and fast, or I’d lose her and our son.”

  Natasha nodded in agreement. “This is my second marriage. I got married when I was only twenty—he was an oil-field worker who didn’t understand why I wanted to be in the military. Now, my husband and our two kids are afraid of where I’m headed. He told me to get help or get out. At thirty years old, starting all over is the last thing I want to do. So, I retired from the marines and came here afterward.”

  “Damn,” I murmured. “My girl told me she’d be behind me every step of the way. She said she’d never turn her back on me.”

  “Don’t believe her, buddy,” Frank came into the conversation. “No one can take abuse for long, whether you do it in your sleep or not. She’ll leave if you don’t get control of this.”

  I doubted the young guy’s words. “If you don’t mind, Frank, how old are you anyway?”

  “Twenty-two. A very old twenty-two. I’ve seen shit no one should see, and I didn’t have to leave home to see it.” He downed his water then opened a new one.

  Looking around the table, I noticed everyone had at least four bottles of water, and I’d only picked up one. So, I had to ask, “I’m not trying to be rude, but what’s the deal with you all drinking so much water?”

  Tom chuckled. “A side effect from the MDMA. Excessive thirst.”

  With a nod, my jaw clenched. I didn’t like that at all. But I’d promised to give this whole thing a try. “I’ve never taken MDMA before. What can I expect?”

  Natasha answered first, “I call it truth serum. The drug lulls you, leaving you feeling good about everything. Safe, you know? Like you can say anything you’ve done or seen to your therapist and not worry that they’ll think you’re sick, crazy, or a monster. I can’t quite bring myself to admit the things I’ve done unless I’m on the pill.”

  Tom added, “And then there’s the arousal.” He looked me up and down, as if trying to get a measure of my personality. “If you’re anything like me, you’re probably worried about that part of the drug.”

  I nodded. “A bit, yes. Especially since my fiancé isn’t available to scratch that itch.”

  Everyone laughed then, and Tillie answered, “The therapeutic sessions go on for at least eight hours. I don’t begin to get antsy until the end, and when my therapist notices me squirming, she ends the session, and I have to go masturbate for at least an hour.”

  Natasha added, “It’s like a little inside joke around here. Don’t let it bother you if you see someone walking real fast to get to their room, and they ignore you. It’s just that they have to deal with some more personal matters in private.”

  “I’ve got to ask,” I said as one question ate at me. “Is there a lot of hooking up in here?”

  They all looked back and forth at each other, then each one of them looked at a table in the far corner where six people sat. One female and five males. “If you’re into hooking up, she’s really the only one into that here.”

  “No,” I said quickly as I shook my head. “I’m not into that at all. I was just wondering.”

  Tom laughed then downed the last of his water, and I saw Tasha coming into the cafeteria. She waved me over, and I excused myself to go get my schedule.

  Things were about to begin, and I felt ready for that.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Tawny

  A week had passed, and I hadn’t heard a thing from August. Leila had come over to our place to do some planning. She’d called me up, explaining that the family wanted to have the holiday at August’s place that year, which would work great, as August was set be released from the facility just a couple of days before Thanksgiving.

  I was happy to oblige as I’d already requested that my start date at the hospital be moved to January fifth; I was free as a bird and knew the planning would help take my mind off missing August.

  Leila’s kids had come over, too. It was the weekend, and they helped keep Calum entertained while Leila and I chatted over a few glasses of the wine she’d brought with her. She’d handed the car keys to her oldest, Jeanna, just after coming inside. “Here, Jeanna, I’m drinking, so you’re driving us home.”

  Her daughter took the keys and followed the others to the game room. “Got it, Mom.”

  Leila showed me the bag with the three bottles inside. “I’ve brought us some refreshments, Tawny. But I drink responsibly, never drinking and driving. My hubby’s Uncle Alonzo died in a car wreck ten years ago after drinking and driving, and I vowed then and there never to do it—even after just one drink.”

  With a nod, I led her to the bar so that we could find some glasses and a corkscrew. Texting Tara along the way, I asked the chef if she could bring us a cheeseboard and fresh fruit tray.

  Leila and I settl
ed in, sitting on tall barstools at the gorgeous dark wood bar. Leila had found the stereo system and put on some soft rock music. “I just love visiting this place. It’s like a hotel, don’t you think?” she asked me.

  “That’s what I said when I first saw it.” I chuckled, taking of sip and loving the salty undertones of the red wine. “Yummy.”

  “I know, right?” Leila asked. “I just love Napa Valley wine.”

  “A true Californian,” I added, smiling.

  Tara brought in the trays I requested, and Leila was quick to invite her to join us. “Tara, we’re going to be discussing the Thanksgiving holiday. Would you care to grab a glass and join us? Your input would be appreciated.”

  Going behind the bar, Tara got a glass and poured herself some wine. She took a pad of paper and a pen out of her apron and placed it on the top of the bar. “Okay, so we’re having it here then?”

  With a smile, I was happy to tell her the news, “We are. Our first holiday together, and I get to be the hostess. I’m so excited.”

  “Mom and Dad are coming, too,” Leila informed her. “The total headcount is thirteen. Even my elusive hubby will be home for once and will be there.”

  “So, I’ll get to meet the man behind the remarkable woman,” I said with a laugh.

  “That you will.”

  Tara tapped her nails on the bar. “Okay. Turkey is a must.”

  “Ham, too,” I added.

  Then Leila looked at me. “Tawny, please tell me your parents are going to come, too.” She looked at Tara. “Put down two more people. I forgot to add them.”

  Tara jotted that down. “Okay, fifteen people.”

  “Make it nineteen, Tara,” I quickly pointed out. “I certainly expect you and the rest of the staff would like to enjoy the meal, too.”

  A little smile crept across her lips. “Sweet of you. So, our final count is nineteen then.”

  “Do you think August wants to invite his business partners?” Leila asked me. “He used to go out every weekend with them. They’re all pretty close.”

  “I’ll ask him if he ever calls me.” And with that my cell buzzed. Pulling it out of my back pocket, I didn’t recognize the number, but saw that it was a local call. “Hello?”

  “Baby, have you missed me?” came August’s voice.

  I screamed and jumped off the barstool, too excited to stay sitting. “August! Yes! Yes, of course, I’ve missed you!” Glancing over at the two women who were laughing at me, I excused myself and headed to the next room, which happened to be a sitting area. “How are you, babe?”

  “Doing pretty good,” came his reply. “I’m feeling a little exhausted right now. A lot of memories are being dredged up. When I’m on the MDMA, I can take it all well. But afterward, when the drug wears off, then I feel drained.”

  That didn’t seem like progress to me, so I asked, “Do you feel like this is a waste of your time, August?”

  “No, they told me it would be like this at first. This is a process, and these first fourteen days are just the tip of the iceberg.” He sighed heavily. “The hardest part is being without you and Calum. I’m not sure why they think it’s so important to have us here without any kind of friends or family around, but they do think it’s important. I’ve asked quite a few times if you could at least come for a visit, only to be told that’s not allowed.”

  Biting my lower lip, I felt the same angst he did. “Well, most recovery programs want the person to know they have to handle things on their own. There can be emotional support, but the idea is to make you see that you’re okay all on your own, and that you don’t have to depend on anyone but yourself.”

  “I guess you’re right. I don’t know or care really. I’ve talked to a lot of people here this last week, about what they’ve gone through, too, and to say the overall atmosphere of depression is demoralizing is an understatement.” I could hear his breathing, and I longed to feel his warm breath on my neck.

  “Um, your sister’s here. We’re going to host Thanksgiving this year. Is that okay with you?” I asked him to get my mind off his breath and lips and everything else.

  Ugh! I needed him so badly.

  “Oh, are we?” he asked with a laugh. “So, Leila and her brood want to come trash our place, huh?”

  “They’re here now, the whole lot of them.” I chewed on my thumbnail as memories of his body on top of mine filled my head. “Oh, and do you want to invite your business partners? Leila said you’re pretty close to them.”

  “No, Gannon has big plans this year, and Nixon is flying home to Texas to be with his family. Thank you for asking though. That’s nice of you, baby.” Another long sigh came out of him. “God, I hope the next week goes by faster than this one. Once I get out, I have to come to therapy every day. The sessions last eight hours, so I’ll be gone all day.”

  “Even Thanksgiving?” I asked, despair filling my voice.

  “Yeah, even Thanksgiving. They told me it’d be from nine in the morning until five in the evening. Can we have the party during the dinner hour?” he asked.

  I wasn’t about to let him down. “Of course, I’ll make sure to tell them all that it’ll be a dinner party, with dinner being served at, say, eightish?”

  “That sounds good to me. Invite your parents, baby. I can’t wait to see them again. Your mom’s fudge was the best ever. She came over and gave us a batch every Christmas.”

  “And your mother gave us her famous peanut brittle, too,” I added.

  We did go way back. We did have a history. Maybe we hadn’t ever been a couple, but we’d spent a bit of time together as neighbors. Backyard barbeques and neighborhood block parties. Every New Year’s Eve watching the fireworks, all of us in our own backyards, but sharing things over the chain-link fence—the only thing that separated us from each other.

  “One more week,” he said quietly. “I can hold out that long. Can you, Tawny?”

  “I have to, don’t I?” I laughed to lighten things up. “So, how is it besides feeling so drained? Are there people there you can relate to?”

  “A couple of fellow former marines are here. We sit at the same table for all the meals. Natasha is thirty, and she’s married with kids. Her marriage is on the line because of her PTSD. Tom’s a kid who barely made it two years in the service. He’s seen shit that haunts him. I worry about them both. But not as much as I worry about Tillie. She’s this young girl whose father sold her into sex slavery when she was only ten. Can you believe someone would do that to their own child, baby? It’s too disgusting to even think about. And I’ll tell you, it makes me feel like a wimp that I’m having so many problems, when what I’ve been through is nothing compared to what she’s been through.”

  “You’re still human, August. You’ve still been through bad things yourself. Don’t lose sight of what you have to work on just because others have had it bad, too,” I gently chided him. “But that is a very sad thing for the poor girl.” My stomach knotted as I thought about what a horrible life she must’ve had, and how hard it would be to ever get over that.

  The world could be a terrible place. It would be wonderful if things could be perfect all the time, but that’s not the way of the world. And my poor man had been through awful things, too—things that would break the average person.

  August was beyond average. He was a hero through and through. If he could learn how to manage his bad memories, things would get better for him and for the rest of us, too.

  “When you come to pick me up, have Max drive you,” he told me.

  “Why is that?” I asked him as I pushed my hand through my hair, pretending it was his hand instead. My body tingled as I thought about him touching me.

  “Because I’m going to devour you completely on the ride home,” his voice had gone deep with lust.

  My panties were soaked with his words alone. “August!”

  “My doctors have been monitoring my sleep, too. They’re working on an idea to help me stop this nighttime shit I’ve be
en doing. They’re coming up with a plan that’ll let me keep you in my bed.” He groaned. “I want that so bad, baby. My arms hurt they want to hold you so damn bad. Fuck!”

  “It’s okay, August. One more week, and you’ll be home. Just work on learning how to use the pills to help you and use the therapy, too. I know you can beat this. I read a story…” I stopped myself. “Never mind. Let’s talk about something else.” When I thought about what I’d been about to say, I recalled that though the success story was great, it had taken the woman about thirty years to be completely free of PTSD.

  “Never mind?” he asked. “Why is that?”

  With a sigh, I went ahead and told him anyway. “Well, there was this success story I read. This woman had suffered an abusive upbringing. I mean—very abusive. It was a real horror story, what her father did to her until she was eighteen, and then he kicked her out of the house. Anyway, she was one of the first people to go through the program you’re going through now. It was just in its beginning stages though, so maybe that’s why it took her so long to be completely free of any PTSD symptoms. But that’s what I wanted you to hear about—she did become free of all the symptoms and didn’t have to take MDMA anymore either. The therapy you’re going through can work, and it can work to completely relieve you of all the symptoms, babe. Isn’t that great news?”

  “How long did it take her, Tawny?” he asked in a grim tone.

  “Thirty years,” I said quickly. “But that had to be because she’d been involved at the start of the whole program. They hadn’t worked out all the kinks, you know?”

  “Hmm,” came his uncertain answer. “Well, I’m not about to let it give me false hopes. Things haven’t been going that great for me. And the sexual arousal isn’t comfortable. Thank God I only have to take one of those pills a day, right before my session each day.”

  A thought grew in my head, and I blurted it out. “What if you took that pill at night? Say, just before you go to sleep? Maybe that would stop your nighttime episodes from occurring, and I’d be here to help you with that sexual arousal.” My body heated with the thought of how hot our love life would be if his doctors agreed with that.