Unbound: The Pentagon Group, Book 2

by Rosemary Rey

  Eric: Hi, Perla. I’m checking in to see if you’re okay. You didn’t show to work. Saw a big bouquet of flowers at the service desk which never happened before, so I’m assuming you and Matt discussed the information I gave you and the flowers were a peace offering? If I hurt you in any way, I’m sorry. I only wanted to keep you safe. I’m your friend. Call me when you’re able to talk.

  ‘Not likely, buddy.’ I placed the phone on the night stand, and lay down to sleep. I prayed tomorrow would give me a better day. I didn’t want to continue mourning over Matt for any longer than necessary. I was so tired my eyelids couldn’t be pried open even if I wanted them to. I was emotionally and physically spent, sleeping until the middle of the night when I needed to use the bathroom. I crept back to bed and snuggled in until the bustle of the morning traffic and pedestrians woke me up.

  *****

  I dreamt of my mother. In the dream, she and I were getting ready to go out on Easter Sunday. I was about four-years-old. She’d bought me a lovely little spring trench coat with flowers at the waist. My most favorite thing was the white pantyhose and white patent leather shoes. My dress was yellow with a flouncy skirt. Everything was tight because I was a round preschooler, but my mother snuggled and kissed every plump inch of my body. She loved all my beauty and all my seemingly unsightly bits. My mother never let my hair down because it was always too big, curly and wild, but for the occasion she set and curled my hair until it was long, wavy and cascaded over my shoulders and back. Despite loving my hair loose and flowing, I put on an Easter hat with small flowers on the brim.

  My mother dressed in a long white dress with long sleeves. She wore opaque pantyhose to keep her shapely legs demurely covered. Her shoes were sensible, white leather, and low heeled. She pulled out a white trench coat from the closet. She told me she had a surprise for me. I jumped up with glee. She pulled out a white patent leather purse with a gold handle and gold snap for the flap. My mother loved sharing her purses with me, and I finally had one of my own. I beamed and hugged the glossy material and turned and closed the buckle on the flap. We walked out the front door hand in hand.

  It wasn’t necessarily a memory. It was a subconscious message being delivered. I needed to not let this stop me from living. I needed to be like the little girl; happy to go out into the world with my mother’s spirit beside me, lifting me up. I shouldn’t bend to the control Matt, or any man for that matter, had over me.

  When I awoke, I resolved to get out of bed and shake off the depression invading my spirit. I took a long shower, conditioning my hair while I shaved and trimmed everything on my body. I plucked the stray hairs from my eyebrows. I put on the radio while I did a clay mask as the deep conditioner saturated my long curls, changing the radio station when stupid love songs came on. Preferring to listen to high energy dance music, I wasn’t strong enough to listen to love lost and regrets. I planned to ‘fake it till I make it’.

  Once I finished my bathroom routine, I moisturized every inch of my body. After towel drying my hair, I doused my curls with hair products to keep it frizz free and fabulous for my outing. As my hair dried naturally, I put on waterproof mascara and tinted lip gloss because the heat of the day would melt any makeup.

  I pulled out a blue romper with a flowing bottom. It looked like a halter dress, but covered my curves. The swinging shorts, much like a skirt, hit above the knees. I slipped on flat, strappy sandals. Spritzing sweet perfume, reminded me of my mom. I hardly used it because I’d get sad, but I was happy to smell like her. Not immensely happy, but ‘okay’ and encouraged life would get better. I inserted my gold hooped earrings and a few gold bangles I’d inherited from her. The memory of hearing the jingle of bangles made me laugh instead of the usual tears which welled in my eyes. When she danced, you could hear the jingling and clanging of her bangles as she shimmied and shook her body to the beat of the music.

  Despite being heartbroken over the depressing end of my love affair, I looked at myself in the full length mirror and admired how pretty I looked. I smiled at myself, smirked and uttered, “Fuck you, Matt.” I guess I’d quickly moved to the ‘angry’ phase of ‘break up’ grief. I grabbed a shawl in case I got cold. Even though it was hot and humid in Boston, the air conditioning in some buildings created a mini tundra. I put all my things in a tote. I grabbed my sunglasses and put them over my head. My keys were on the hook beside the door and I grabbed them to lock up. I bounded down the steps to the entry of the building.

  When I opened the door, I found another bouquet of flowers. I sighed in exasperation. My name was on the card. I pulled out the note and ripped it up and shoved it in an interior pocket of my tote. The flowers from yesterday were no longer there, so I decided to do the same with the new bouquet. I didn’t care if he’d spent a lot of money on these deliveries, it was an infinitesimal consolation.

  With my sunglasses shielding my eyes, I walked off the steps toward the bus stop. I heard a car honk, but ignored it and walked without pausing. The honk happened again, and I was a bit creeped out by it. I didn’t turn to look to see if the honk was intended for me. When you’re a single woman, you have to be vigilant and defensive when walking around alone in the city. I wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction by looking, and usually it was a ‘him’. When I heard my name called by a familiar voice, I panicked. I was too far to go back home and I couldn’t duck anywhere to evade him. It was too soon for him to come see me. ‘Why couldn’t he leave me alone?’ I thought as I walked faster.

  “Perla!” Matt yelled from inside his convertible car. He drove his Mercedes with the top down.

  I stopped at the intersection to look before crossing the street. His car approached and stopped at the stop sign, double parking. As he opened his door, my heart beat furiously and skipped a beat at seeing how handsome he looked with his long, wavy hair flowing in the wind. His eyes shielded by polarized sunglasses, and his muscles rippled under the arm bands of his tight t-shirt. His worn jeans hugged him in all the right places. I looked down to his feet and saw he wore leather driving shoes without socks. He jogged over to where I stood at the corner. He appeared cautious in his approach. The frown I sported kept him on high alert.

  “Hi.” He whispered.

  I grimaced, “What do you want, Matt?” I crossed my arms in front of my body, holding him away from my personal space. Thankfully, he couldn’t see the tears stinging my eyes from behind my dark lenses.

  “I have to know how you’re doing. You ignored my texts. You blocked me from your number. You didn’t go to work yesterday. Chelsea told me I needed to back off both of you, but . . . I can’t. I can’t walk away from us.” His voice was hoarse. He took a step forward, while I recoiled back. He frowned at my reaction and put his arms behind his back, tucking his hands in his back pockets; no doubt trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch me.

  I inhaled deeply and looked at my surroundings to see if I could make a quick getaway. I still had a long walk to the bus stop. My plan was to have a good day, and the contact with Matt wasn’t part of my plan. I should’ve known he would come here and try to talk to me.

  “I can't be with you after everything that’s happened. I don’t see a reason for us to talk. It’s better for you to leave me alone. Move on. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I turned, but he lunged to stop me from moving away from him, one hand on my hip and the other on my arm. I yelped, partly from surprise and the other from the aching need to feel his touch.

  He must’ve thought I was scared. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Perla. I wouldn’t dare hurt you.”

  “The fact is, Matt, you did. You hurt me. I’m hurt. I can’t forget. I’m not able to forgive. Do you even know how to treat a woman you claim to love? I was in such a great place when I first walked into your office. And even though you didn’t flirt with me, I felt hope that I could finally be interested in a man again. And after we had sex, for the first time in a long time, I felt desired. But the reality is, even if you tell me everything we exp
erienced wasn’t faked, I will never believe you. And a relationship can't develop or continue on a lie, and especially without trust. Before Thursday, I felt like I would place my life in your hands, and right now, I don’t even want to be in the same universe with you because I don’t come first. Pentagon comes first. They always have and they always will. What’s the fucked up saying? Bros before hoes? Now, please, move on. Forget about me.” He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He swallowed hard a few times before responding.

  “I’ll do everything you ask to make us work. I’ll sell everything. I’ll cut my ties to Pentagon. I won’t see my friends. I’ll quit my affiliations overseas. It’ll just be you and me . . . forever. We can start a family.” He pleaded. My eyes widened, and then my brows furrowed.

  I chuckled at the audacity and raised my arms, “You think I would ever consider starting a family with you. I want children who have a father they can depend on to take care of and support their mother. I need a husband who isn’t a liar, a user, and a thief. I don’t . . .” A honking car behind Matt’s illegally parked car interrupted me. He ran his hands through his hair

  “Fuck.” He shouted when he looked over to his vehicle. The driver of the honking vehicle yelled out the window at us.

  “Good bye, Matt. And I really mean it when I say ‘good bye’. No damn flowers or notes. I’m better off without you. Go have a fresh start with someone else. Maybe you can find someone else to use; maybe, a resort in Maine as your next project.” I walked away toward the bus, refusing to look back to see if Matt was following or if he stood there in stunned wonder like he did the first night at the dance club. I assumed he went back to his car because the honking stopped soon after we heard it. After many deep breaths and uplifting mantras, my breathing and blood pressure evened out, I was able to continue on my task.

  The wait at the bus was minimal. Getting into my regular routine, which I’d abandoned because I’d fallen for Matt’s control and expectation that I live at his apartment, was easy. I’d had an epiphany; Ben had once controlled me, and Matt sucked me back into being controlled again under the guise of love and passion. Even upon the dissolution of our marriage, Ben controlled the rest of my life. I was free to a degree, but he maintained control until I paid off a false debt. After the experience with Matt, once again I regained the control by being the strong, independent woman my mother always wanted me to be. I reaffirmed my plans on the bus ride.

  After a short walk from the T, I arrived at the library and immediately went to a librarian. I requested some help with finding books on job hunting and resume writing. When she pointed me to the section, I eagerly walked to peruse the shelves. There were so many books on the topic. I spent half an hour perusing titles, reading the summary, and finally selected two books which looked promising because it incorporated job hunting, resume writing, salary negotiations, and relocation information. I couldn’t tolerate the romance and erotica books I usually borrowed, so I went to the stacks of newly released fiction books and hoped a few covers would reel me in.

  There was a handsome man standing at the stacks. He seemed pretty young, maybe a college student, he smiled at me when I approached the section, and I nervously returned the smile. I trained my eyes on the stack down the aisle from where he stood. I picked up a book and read the summary on the flap, but felt uncomfortably exposed, as if I were being stared at. I tried to ignore the sensation and continued looking before me, but couldn’t focus on the summary of the book I held.

  “That’s not such a great book.” He exclaimed.

  I turned to look at him, and confirmed he was speaking to me. “Oh?” I responded, turning the book from front to back.

  “It starts off well and then loses steam midway and becomes painful to finish. It was not the best ending. Do you need help picking a book? What genre do you like? I can suggest something.” He eagerly offered.

  “Um. I’m just perusing. I’m not quite sure what genre I want to start reading; perhaps, literary fiction . . . I’m more of a romance novel type, but . . .” I thought quickly before I said something personal. “I’m trying to expand my horizons. But I don’t want to take your time.”

  “Oh, you aren’t. I love to read and I like offering suggestions.” He scanned the stacks and pulled out a book. “This one is really good. It has a bit of adventure, mystery, and it’s funny throughout. No romance, so you should be safe.” He handed me the book as he looked around for another and plucked it from the shelf. “This one was a great story of a young woman trying to make a name for herself and all the obstacles she overcomes. Lots of witty and funny dialogue, you’d like it.” I took it from him.

  “Thanks, these are a good start.”

  “So, do you come here often?” He paused and snorted. “That was lame. I didn’t mean it the cliché way it’s typically asked. Sorry.” He stated sheepishly.

  “I didn’t take it that way. Actually, I do come here often . . . in between shifts at my jobs. I love reading here. It’s relaxing. Are you a librarian?”

  “I’m interning here. I’m a Master’s student in library science, so I get to work here a few shifts a week.”

  “Ah, no wonder you’re so knowledgeable, and literate. You’re doing a great job. You’ve eliminated endless options for me, and I thank you.” I smiled.

  “Well, you could return the favor by going out to coffee with me.” He smiled hopefully.

  “Umm. . . Wow. I’m sorry.” I paused, gathering my words so I could be sensitive and firm. “I think you’re a kind man, and yes there is a ‘but’. But I’m not in a place to date anyone. Super complicated life, hence no romance books for now, so regrettably, I must decline. If we would’ve had this encounter three months ago I would’ve asked you for coffee.”

  “My loss.” He extended, sincerely. “I’m Jonah.” He extended his hand.

  I shifted the books to my left arm, “I’m Perla. Nice meeting you and again, thanks. Good luck with your studies.”

  “Thanks. I hope to see you again.” He smiled. I nodded and returned the smile, and walked away.

  The pain and humiliation from Matt’s lies still lingered in my mind, but having a complete stranger try to pick me up was ego inflating at such a delicate time. As always, the universe’s timing sucked, but it was for the best. I needed time to evaluate what I wanted from a long term relationship. As I checked out the books at the automatic checkout stand, I felt so much better. Even the minor interaction with Jonah was worth the trip.

  I walked out of the library, seeking out a coffee shop because I needed to get a latte and some food before commuting back to my place. I found a shop across from the T’s entrance. It wasn’t very busy, which kept it quiet. After selecting a sandwich, ordering a latte, and paying for it all, I found a seat and waited for my latte to be up. I pulled out one of the novels Jonah recommended and started reading. The first paragraph hooked me. It was funny, and I couldn’t wait to delve in deeper.

  My name was called to pick up my latte, and I retrieved it to infuse a vat of sugar in the creamy concoction. I needed the sugar to energize me. By the time the crash occurred, I’d be home in bed reading the novel. A man sidled up beside me at the coffee prep station.

  “Hi.” He said. I looked up and it was Eric.

  “Eric . . . Hi. What are you doing here?” I asked nervously.

  “My office is nearby. I’m just taking a break, getting some coffee so I can go back to work. What are you doing here?”

  “I went to the library to get a few books. Now, I’m getting lunch.”

  “I called you last night, but you didn’t respond. I wanted to make sure you’re okay. How are you doing?”

  “I’m as best as I can be considering it all.” I stirred the sugar and replaced the lid. “Look, Eric. I don’t mean to be ungrateful for your trying to protect me, but I need to distance myself from this whole sordid tale. I can’t continue to see you or talk to you after this revelation. It isn’t appropriate fo
r me to talk to someone who is connected to Pentagon. I just want to move on and part of it is distancing myself from you too.”

  “What?” He looked hurt, and it wasn’t my intention. I wasn’t prepared for the discussion, but my request was best said sooner than later. “Perla, I’d like to be your friend. I gave you the information as a friend, trying to protect you.” His eyes changed from hurt to pleading.

  I took a sip of the hot coffee, needing the jolt of energy. I walked toward my table, leaving him standing at the creamer station, and I sat down. He followed, taking the free seat in front of me.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, Eric, but I have to eat and I’d rather eat alone.” I started to unveil my sandwich from the wrapper. He put his hand over mine, stopping me from retrieving my sandwich. I sighed and took a deep breath. “Do you mind?” I glanced at his hand and then looked sternly at him. He pulled his hand away. I pulled out my sandwich and took a bite, chewed and then took a sip of my coffee. He remained seated and watched me as I ate. In my famished state, I didn’t complain because I was thinking of only myself.

  When I finished half the sandwich, he started speaking again. “I will admit I’m extremely attracted to you. I’ve never pretended otherwise, but I didn’t give you the information to destroy your relationship with Dr. Keene. I just wanted you to connect the dots so you’d be informed because he obviously didn’t let you decide for yourself.”

  “Eric, honestly, what did you expect would happen when you gave me the information? What do you get out of it?” I asked, invoking Carson’s attitude. I took a sip, never removing my gaze from his.

  He swallowed. “To protect you from being further hurt by the people who own Pentagon. I don’t know Dr. Keene’s intentions, but he wasn’t going to tell you. It wasn’t fair. If he loves you, he should be protecting you and not using you.” The appreciation, anger and hurt were colliding in my chest.