“I’m sorry, Gia.”
I nodded but knew words were pointless. I’d lose my composure and nothing would change. My history couldn’t be rewritten and my child was still sick.
“Goodnight, Jase.” It was all I could muster.
“Night, love.”
His breathing evened out shortly thereafter, and I knew he was asleep. I laid awake for hours analyzing that one word. He’d called me babe. He always called me Gia, but he’d never called me love.
Chapter Eleven
I was out of work for the next two weeks dealing with Emmy’s herx and constant doctor’s appointments. Pearl couldn’t take her to them, and I needed help with the twins so I could. We’d gotten her on a treatment plan that seemed to be working, but it was a slow process, and the recovery was just as time consuming. I’d be screwed if it weren’t for Drake, Holland, and Max. I didn’t know if Jase said anything to them, or if they genuinely just needed my company, but they’d been around a lot recently and had me with them several nights.
Drake and Max were lovely as always, but something changed with Holland. After that night in the back of the limo, he’d seemed to think it was acceptable to be flirtier, more…hands on. He hadn’t crossed the line again, not that I blame that solely on him, but he certainly danced around it. Each time I saw him, he got a little more comfortable touching me in places I didn’t think he had any business being. I knew if I’d told Jase, it would have stopped, but so would the dates, and at five hundred dollars a pop, it was the only way I’d keep the visits to multiple doctors and treatments paid for. I was able to justify it in my mind as long as it wasn’t physical—I told myself I owed this to my daughter for what she had to endure due to my negligence. So, I kept my mouth shut and tolerated his behavior.
I had hoped to return to work after two weeks, but with lingering symptoms in the third, I wasn’t comfortable leaving Miss Pearl to deal with four kids alone. She’d started showing signs of illness, and I couldn’t risk Emmy getting sick. I was taking enough of a chance allowing the twins to go over there during the day, but Emmy’s immune system was too fragile.
There are some benefits to being friends with one of the senior partners. Jase had gotten all the paperwork from Human Resources for me to file for FMLA, and I didn’t have to worry about my job, but without making an exception to company policy, once my vacation was used, I was on leave without pay.
When Holland called to ask about a last-minute event he’d decided to attend, I couldn’t turn him down. Miss Pearl agreed to watch the kids, and I knew they’d be asleep in an hour or so anyhow, so I changed and waited for him to pick me up. I didn’t know where we were going, but he’d said business casual, so I put on slacks and a silk blouse with heels. I tried to dress up the outfit a little with some sparkly jewelry, but when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see much I was proud of. I was starting to look my age, maybe older. I felt haggard and the reflection matched that.
Holland arrived on time, looking dapper as usual. I liked him a lot—he was a great guy, and next to Jase, had been my favorite of his friends. But every time I saw him now, texted with him or spoke to him on the phone, I was flooded with memories of having him in my mouth. I warred with whether or not it was an experience I’d enjoyed at the time, even if I regretted it after. If I were honest, there was a tiny piece of me—a smidgen I wanted to ignore—that had indeed enjoyed it. Not Holland himself, but the act of intimacy with a man. I pretended those needs no longer existed in my world, but they did and they were strong. He just wasn’t the man I craved them from.
It turned out Holland didn’t have an event…he didn’t want to go to dinner alone. Part of me wanted to be irritated, but I got the impression he was doing this as a favor to me. He may not know why I needed the money, but he knew and this was his way of helping me out.
After dinner, he said he needed to stop by his house before he took me home. I didn’t question it. He’d bought my time for the evening, and if that meant he wanted to stand on the sidewalk and stare at passing traffic, that’s what we’d do. He had me follow him inside and into his study. He reached into a drawer in his desk and handed me a wad of cash. When he handed it to me, he hovered in my personal space. I watched his eyes caress my body and desire begin to fill his gaze. He didn’t make a move to initiate contact, but he didn’t stop taking me in, either.
I hadn’t dated in high school. My sole focus was getting out of the projects, and I’d met Ryan in college and married him. That was it. That was as far as I’d gotten. I hadn’t had any intimate contact with any man other than Holland since Ryan had been arrested—and I was pregnant with Emmy then. I liked Holland, and if I’d never met Jase, Holland would have been someone I could have found myself easily attracted to, but I had met Jase first.
Holland had this way of reminding me, without saying anything, that Jase wasn’t mine and I wasn’t his—there was nothing beyond friendship on Jase’s part. I think Holland knew my feelings leaned romantically toward his friend, but he never really acknowledged it other than that one time he said Jase would never feel the same about me. Holland kept coming back for more; he wanted to spend time with me, so much so he paid to do it. It had ceased to be just about having someone on his arm and became more about actually spending time with me. He hadn’t openly admitted that, but tonight was evidence.
He motioned for me to take a seat on the couch. “Would you like a glass of wine?” The offer of a nightcap wasn’t something I was interested in.
“I appreciate it, but not tonight.”
“I know you have a lot on your mind, Gianna. I’m sure missing work has made things even tougher for you, regardless of how much Drake and Jase have helped you out.” He opened a cabinet to reveal a small built-in bar and poured the wine while he talked. With the two glasses of red in hand, he came to my side and took a seat on the couch.
I took the glass from him and eyed him warily, wondering where he was going with this.
“Jase said Emmy’s pretty sick. Is she going to be okay?” The wine touched his lips, caressed them in the most sinful way. Briefly, I watched as his mouth took on an erotic shape. “Gianna?”
My gaze jerked back to his eyes. “What?”
“Emmy. Is she all right?”
“Mmm. She will be. We’ve been through this before. She’s a tough kid.” I didn’t know what he knew, but I assumed Jase had told him it was chronic, even if he hadn’t told him specifically.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I found myself sipping my own wine while we talked, unable to tear my gaze away from his moving lips. Something about them kept drawing my attention back; they were intoxicating. Their fullness, the way his tongue would slip out to moisten the bottom just before he tasted the wine. I became mesmerized by them.
“We’ll be okay but thank you.” I was only half participating in the conversation. My mind was fuzzy, and there was a halo of light hovering around Holland. When I coaxed my eyes away, I realized there was a ring surrounding everything I focused on. I felt good, warm on the inside. My eyes were heavy but not sleepy.
The conversation didn’t register; I spoke but nothing was coherent. When Holland laughed, I realized he was laughing at me, not at something I said. I was making a fool of myself, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I was so loopy.
“I bet money’s a huge concern for you these days, isn’t it?”
I nodded my head sloppily. I hadn’t been this drunk in years, but I had nothing more than a few sips of wine.
He moved closer, taking my glass and setting it on the table next to the couch along with his own. When he returned his attention to me, he tucked my hair behind my ear and gently caressed my cheek. I leaned into his touch. The warmth of his hand was inviting, the smile he gave me tickled my insides, and as he dragged his hand down my neck, between my breasts, tingles began to build between my legs.
Holland was affecting me in a way I didn’t think I’d wanted until now, although somet
hing didn’t feel right. My judgment was clouded, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He offered small talk, making me promises of money and gifts, and all I could think of was how odd all this seemed. I didn’t want to want it, yet for some reason, it’s all I could think of.
His sudden movement to the floor startled me. He knelt in front of me and spread my legs apart to settle between them. My eyes closed when he hooked his hands behind my knees and pulled me to him. I felt his fingers on the button to my slacks, and then there was nothing.
I woke the next morning, fully clothed in my own bed—unaware of how I’d gotten home. I didn’t remember anything past going to Holland’s house and the glass of wine he’d offered me, but I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Every inch of my being hurt. I laid perfectly still, hoping to calm the beating inside my head, but I was unable to stave off using the restroom any longer. Stumbling to the bathroom, I pulled my pants down and sat on the toilet. The stream of urine burned my skin like I’d been ripped in half, and when I jerked my head between my legs to see what was causing the discomfort, I noticed the prints on the insides of my thighs.
With as much movement as I could bear, I started to take my clothes off as quickly as I could. There were bruises and marks all over my legs and my pelvis. When I stripped off my blouse, I found bite marks on my breast and nipples. Standing naked in front of the mirror with pee dripping down my leg, I stared at my reflection and wondered what the fuck I’d done.
Irrationally, I wanted to get in the shower, but with each movement, I felt more pain. My bottom hurt just as much as it did between my legs, and I knew there was no way I’d ever agree to anything happening there. Drunk or not, it wasn’t my thing. I glanced at the clock and noted it was just after six in the morning. I put the clothes on I’d just taken off, grabbed my purse and some change for the bus, and went to the hospital.
I didn’t call anyone; I didn’t tell Miss Pearl where I was going. She wouldn’t be expecting me for another couple hours, and there was no need in getting anyone worked up if I had imagined things. I forced my mind off the path it seemed determined to go down and thought of anything I could besides what might have happened last night in Holland’s study.
When I reached into my pocket for change to drop into the box on my way up the bus stairs, I pulled out a wad of cash…far more than I should have had. There was no one on board, so I counted it out. Twenty-five-hundred-dollars. It was confirmation of what I didn’t want to believe. Two thousand dollars more than I should’ve had. It was a clear indication I’d consented to something he paid big money for. But I couldn’t remember a minute of it. Nothing. There was his study, wine, and then waking in my bed, but not a flash of memory in between.
I got off the bus just outside the hospital, dreading where I knew this was going, but unwilling to not follow through. Stepping inside the Emergency Room doors, the peaceful quiet of an early morning was lost, and the chaos of an inner-city hospital ensued. The lady at the front desk asked me if she could help me and seemed frustrated when I just stared back at her.
“Sweetheart, are you all right? What can we do for you?”
I shook my head. No. I wasn’t okay; I was far from it. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”
“Girl, if you heard the stories I get in here, you’d know there’s nothing you could tell me I haven’t heard before. So shoot—what’s going on?”
I leaned over the counter to make sure no one else heard what I said. I didn’t even want to hear it. “I think I might have been taken advantage of last night, but I don’t remember.” My voice was weak and filled with uncertainty.
Her head moved slowly up and down, her eyes roamed my face. Then her voice changed from that of a tired nurse who’d likely been here for twelve hours to one of concern and pity. “Can you fill these out for me? Do you have an insurance card and picture ID? I’ll need to see those as well.” I gave her what she asked for and took a seat to fill out the forms.
It wasn’t but a few minutes later she came around the desk and whispered in my ear, “I can take you back now. I didn’t want to call your name. I’m sure you’d rather this be private.”
I appreciated her concern. Nothing made any sense. Holland wouldn’t hurt me—ever. But he was the only person I’d been with. I’d last been at his home and then woke in my bed, still in the same clothes. He would have been the one to bring me home, open my door, put me in bed. He’d never do this, though. Surely, he wouldn’t.
She hooked her arm around my waist as I meandered down the hall with her leading the way. Lost in a daze, I couldn’t escape my thoughts. I followed her instructions and got undressed on the large sheet of paper she put on the floor. A nurse came in and collected the paper and my clothing. I was inundated by swabs in places Q-Tips shouldn’t be, but I gritted my teeth and bared it. With a large wooden toothpick, she scraped under my fingernails and dropped each utensil into a separate baggie before sealing it. They combed through my hair and took countless pictures of every inch of my body before I put on the hospital gown she offered. Then, I waited for the doctor she promised would be in shortly. The exam had taken a few hours and been far worse than the actual incident, but only because I couldn’t remember any of it.
Luckily, the person who entered was a woman—I wasn’t sure I could handle a man at that moment. When she asked what happened, I gave her the best account I could. “I remember being in his study. I remember him pouring two glasses of wine. And then, feeling really warm, very heavy but not tired. Then I woke up this morning in my bed.” I told her about the sensations between my legs and my cheeks. I admitted I knew him and that I’d gone out with him, knowing it would limit my credibility.
“I want to draw some blood and urine to do a tox screen, too,” she informed me. “We may find evidence of narcotics in your system. It sounds like you were slipped Rohypnol, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Her smile was kind and her tone soft. I wondered if I was in shock. I felt like I should be freaking out, but I was eerily calm.
A couple of hours later, the doctor returned with the nurse in tow and tox screen results on her iPad. “You were given Rohypnol at some point last night, and it was a pretty healthy dose for it to still be at this level in your urine. You mentioned knowing the person who might have done this to you. Do you want us to contact the police for you?”
I shook my head.
The look of disappointment crossed her face, but she wisely didn’t express it. “The kit will be kept at the crime lab for six months. Should you choose to press charges, here’s the number you need to call. Think about what you want to do before you make a final decision.” She patted me on the knee. “We’ll get you checked out so you can get out of here.”
“What about clothes?” I hadn’t had the forethought to bring anything with me.
“Do you have anyone you can call to bring you some?”
I shook my head as tears filled my eyes. Calling Jase would ensure Holland’s crucifixion, and if anyone was going to annihilate him, it’d be me. But I couldn’t have that conversation or any other until I got home, and I wanted a shower more than I craved revenge right now.
“Let me see what I can find. I’ll be back.” They left the room together, pulling the curtain closed behind them.
Not long after, the same nurse returned with some sweat pants, a T-shirt, and cotton panties and sports bra. “I promise the panties and the bra are new. I just opened the package. I know they’re not super stylish, but they’re clean and will get you home. The clothes were donated by staff.” She brought me some apple juice and a muffin and set them down with the outfit.
There’s nothing to say to someone after they’ve swabbed your anus and taken pictures of you nude. She’d been kind and gentle, and all I could offer her was, “Thank you.”
“Here’s your discharge paperwork. Once you get dressed and you’re ready to go, just follow the exit signs out. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No. I’
ll be okay.”
I could tell by the look on her face she wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t have it in me to try to reassure her. The clothes were too big, but they were clean and smelled of fresh linen. The fluorescent light above me flickered as if to warn me it was about to give out and it was time for me to go.
~~~
When I finally got back to my apartment, it was nearly eleven in the morning. I was shocked I hadn’t heard from Miss Pearl or the kids. I ran inside to quickly shower and change clothes before I went next door to get them. Needing to hurry, I didn’t dry my hair. Jeans and a T-shirt were as formal as it would get today. I wasn’t going to work, there were no doctor appointments, and all I wanted was to get my kids and hang out. The park, the apartment, I didn’t care as long as I could see them smile. I prayed Emmy was feeling well enough to go outside and soak up some of the gorgeous weather and cooler temperatures.
Trace opened the door, and I knew there was something wrong. Derrick was crying, Megan was holding an unhappy Emmy, and Miss Pearl was nowhere to be seen. He grabbed my hand, and without so much as a hello, dragged me to her body crumpled on the ground in front of the stove.
As soon as I saw her feet, I ran to her on the floor. “Oh God, Miss Pearl.” I shook her as I said her name. Then directed my attention to Trace. “Buddy, what happened? How long has she been like this?”
He shrugged but didn’t speak.
“Son, I need you to tell me what you know. What happened to Miss Pearl?”
“I dunno, Mommy. We woked up, and she was sleepin’ on the floor. I tried to wake her up and Derrick yelled at her, but I made him stop. I know I wasn’t ’posed to, but I came and knocked on our door, but you didn’t hear me. I tried to yell at you, but when you didn’t come, I came back over here. Derrick’s been cryin’ and so has Em, but I didn’t know what to do.” He raised his little shoulders, indicating he was at his wit’s end.
I kissed the top of his head as I stood. “You did perfect, buddy. Mommy needs to get her phone. Can you stay right here? I’ll be right back.” He agreed to my request and I dashed out the door. I didn’t know Jase’s number by heart, and it dawned on me I should have called 9-1-1 before I called him anyhow. I dialed the number as I ran back to Pearl’s apartment. Unable to give them much information other than a faint pulse and shallow breathing, they dispatched an ambulance.
Fallen Woman Page 16
