by J. L. Paul
“As you can see,” Edward said, taking advantage of my momentary silence, “we cannot allow this. We need donations in order for the Center to survive. Certainly you understand this.”
“Hold on,” I said, leaning forward. “First of all, Ronnie is not addicted to drugs. He’s a good person.”
“The band he belongs to has been shrouded in controversy for years,” Tight-lips said.
I ignored her. “And my friendships have nothing whatsoever to do with my work.”
“We cannot have your friends visiting the Center,” Edward said. “It’s detrimental to the children.”
“They don’t visit,” I said.
“I believe two of them visited before,” another woman, who’d obviously been waiting to add something, said. “We found out from one of the employees.”
“That was one time,” I said.
“At any rate,” Edward said, talking over me, “we are here to ask for your resignation.”
“My resignation?” I asked.
“Yes,” Edward said. “We’ve decided to nip this in the bud before it escalates.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said as I tried to wrap my head around what was happening.
“It is necessary,” Tight-lips said. “You have a choice, though. You may give us your resignation or we can terminate you.”
I sank back into my chair, disbelief radiating throughout my body. As my brain fought for coherency, one thing flashed in the forefront of my mind: Brad. This entire thing had his name written all over it.
“Fine,” I said, scooting my chair back and getting to my feet. “You can have my resignation and you can also go to hell.”
As calmly as I could, I collected my purse and the few personal effects I had on my desk, aware of the eyes watching my every move. Perhaps they thought I was going to steal a box of paper clips or a stapler or something. Once I had my things, I left, pausing briefly to tell Addy I was leaving and she needed to take charge.
Fuming all the way home, I wondered if my thought had been right. Was Brad behind this? Did he have enough influence to persuade the Board to get rid of me? And if so, why?
That evening, I paced my living room, moving from the window to the kitchen doorway and back numerous times. My mind was a blur of red as anger possessed it like a demon to a host body. My phone remained clenched in my fist but I was unable to think of a single person to call. And even if I did, what would it accomplish?
Of course I wanted to call Brad and ream him out but I fought the urge. No need to accuse him of something that I wasn’t even sure he caused. Maybe he wasn’t responsible – at least, that’s what I tried to tell myself. But ever since the engagement, Brad had been increasing his hold on me, tightening his fist around my life as if I was an energetic puppy he was trying to mold into a well-trained show dog.
Finally, my phone rang. It was Brad.
“Hello?” I said through clenched teeth. I reined in my anger, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“Hello, darling,” he said as if nothing was wrong. His innocent tone meant nothing – I knew how he worked. “I was wondering if I could stop by tonight? If you haven’t eaten yet, we could run over to that little pizza joint on the corner.”
Something was definitely up. Brad abhorred ‘little pizza joints’ as much as he abhorred sloppy dress and slang. But it was okay – I was more than prepared for him.
“That sounds great,” I said with a smile that was anything but warm.
“Excellent,” he said. “I’m close so I should be there in five minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I said, hanging up before he could respond. Sure, it would irritate him – he hated rudeness, too, but I was beyond niceties.
I stood by the window, watching as Brad eased his car into a space and then strolled up the stairs. Opening the door before he could knock, I inhaled, preparing to unload.
“Good evening, darling,” he said, kissing my cheek as he breezed by me, briefcase in hand. I paused, taken aback by the appearance of that briefcase. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it before – he carried it everywhere except inside my apartment.
“I thought we were going out,” I said as I took a wary step inside, closing the door behind me.
“We will,” he said as he sat on the sofa, sliding his brief case on the coffee table. “I just need to discuss a few things with you first.”
The saccharine sweet tone of his voice put me on edge. I only ever heard it when he was on the phone, speaking to a client or employee before dropping a bomb.
“Oh,” I said in as casual a voice as I could manage. My mind shot back to my visit to Jake. Had he found out somehow? “What’s that?”
“Well,” he said, popping the snaps on the case but not opening it. Instead, he tipped his head in my direction. “I received a phone call from Edward Marsh. I understand you had a bad day.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did,” I said. “It was totally uncalled for, the Board members asking for my resignation.”
“I understand your indignation,” he said as he clasped his hands together, letting them fall between his knees. “But, in this case, I have to agree with the Board’s decision.”
Anger stirred in my stomach. “You do, huh?”
“Yes,” he said, far too calm for my liking. “Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, Edward Marsh and I spoke prior to his visit.”
“I figured as much,” I muttered.
“Now, Isabella,” he said. “You know I don’t approve of you mumbling. You need to speak in a proper tone.”
“I am my own person,” I said.
“Of course you are,” he responded, maniacal little smile toying with his lips. “You do things your own way without thought to consequences or appearances.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
Standing, he moved closer to me, folding his arms over his chest. For a moment, fear niggled my heart, but I shoved it aside. Brad was controlling and had grabbed me from time to time, but he wasn’t violent.
“Have you been in contact with Jake Johnson lately?” he asked.
There was no use denying it – he knew the answer. It was written all over his demeanor.
“So what if I have?” I asked. “Jake is my friend. That’s all.”
“That’s all,” he repeated as he turned away, strolling around the coffee table as if taking a walk in the park. “That’s all.”
I didn’t bother responding, just watched as he bent over his brief case, lifting the lid, and pulling out several magazines. It didn’t take a genius to know that they were tabloids. He tossed them on the table, that eerie smile still pasted to his face.
The top magazine was, naturally, the Star Gazer. On the cover was a photo, obviously taken through wrought iron bars of a gate and several branches, of me standing close to Jake, Nick hovering in the background. My breath stuck in my chest.
“What’s that say?” Brad asked in that sickly sweet voice.
I glanced at the headline, reading it in my head. Are Jake and Isabella Back On? it screamed.
All the angry words I’d intended on hurling at him. All the accusations. They fell to the floor at my feet, useless.
“No comment, Isabella?” he asked.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked.
He crossed the room in three quick strides, standing in front of me, all facades gone now as anger overtook his face.
“Do you know how humiliating it was to be with George Tharpe at his home, enjoying a peaceful business lunch, when his wife walks into the room with these rags? Do you understand how this looks? I’m supposed to be a professional, engaged to a devoted woman, preparing for a life together. But instead, all my clients and colleagues can see this and see that my fiancée is a lying, cheating, whore!”
I flinched at his words and the volume of his voice. Fear returned as Brad’s face contorted in rage, turning a deep red.
“Sorry,” I said, although I had no clue what I was apologizing for. I just wante
d him to step back and give me some space.
“Sorry?” he said, inching closer, bending to leer in my face. “Is that all you can say? After all I’ve done for you and your family, this is what I get? This and a pathetic apology?”
I took a step back, which was a mistake. He seized my arm, squeezing. I didn’t bother to struggle, knowing it would only make it worse.
“Are you sleeping with him?” he asked, his eyes blazing. “Tell me the truth, Isabella. Are you sleeping with him?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. I didn’t see his hand until after it collided with my face.
“I told you not to lie to me,” he continued, increasing his grip on my arm.
Anger began to compete with fear as my spine straightened. My free hand went to my throbbing cheek as I met his eyes.
“Let go of me,” I ordered. “And don’t ever touch me again.”
He hit me again, near the eye, with enough force to knock my head into the wall. Never had I seen him so angry but I couldn’t stand there like a frightened rabbit. I had to get away from him.
“Let me go,” I said, my eyes watering. “Right now.”
“I’m the one calling the shots,” he said, but I barely heard him. I lifted my knee as hard as I could, connecting with his most private body parts. He released me instantly as he doubled over, groaning. I didn’t wait to see what he would do next – just snatched my purse and keys from the table near the door and ran, stopping only to get inside the car. I looked up in time to see Brad standing in my doorway, shock on his face. He shouted something to me but I couldn’t hear him as I cranked the engine, backed out of the parking lot, and shot off into the night.
Eleven
It wasn’t until I hit the interstate that I realized I was sobbing. I’d been far too busy watching the road and my rearview mirror for Brad’s car to worry about anything else. Once I entered the late traffic, I tried to relax, only to have a buzz in my seat. Leaning forward, I yanked my phone out of my back pocket and glanced at the screen. It was Brad. Ignoring his call, I tossed my phone on the passenger seat and concentrated on driving.
Nearly an hour later, and a bucketful of tears, I pulled up to the newly installed gates and jabbed the buzzer several times, worried that Brad had somehow caught up to me.
“Yeah? Who the hell is it?”
“It’s Iz,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Please, let me in?”
“Iz?”
“Just open the gate!”
The gates creaked open and I punched the gas, zooming up the dirt drive and stopping in front of the pole barn. As I opened the car door, I spotted four dark shadows on the porch, one of them sprinting down the steps.
“Iz,” Jake said as I got out of the car. He reached me, slightly out of breath, and yanked me to his chest. “Are you alright? What happened?”
I shook my head, not able to speak. I just leaned into him as all the shudders and shakes that had threatened to overtake my body during the drive finally let loose.
“Come inside,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he led me to the steps. “Let’s just get you inside.”
The crowd hovering near the door parted as Jake escorted me in the house and to the living room. He gently sat me down on the sofa and sucked in a breath when he got a look at my face.
“Holy shit, Iz,” Ronnie gasped, standing in front of me. “What happened? Who hit you?”
“Did that son of a bitch hit you, Iz?” Jake asked with controlled fury.
I shook my head, sucking in oxygen like water in the desert. I didn’t want to talk about the ugly scene in my apartment. I just wanted to bathe in the presence of my friends.
Matt zipped out of the room and returned a moment later with an ice pack. Sinking beside me, he pressed it to my face. I smiled my thanks but the gentleness that was always present in his eyes had been replaced by cold steel.
“Who did this to you?” Nick asked as he sat on the coffee table. “You need to tell us, Iz.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said as I took the ice pack from Matt and leaned into Jake. “Please.”
“We should call the cops,” Ronnie said as he whipped out his phone.
I shook my head. “No. No, it will make things worse.”
“What things?” Jake asked as he eased me back. “Iz, you’re not going back there.”
“I’m not,” I said, exhaustion sweeping over my body. “You’re right, I’m not. But it’s over now and I don’t want to call the cops. I don’t want a big deal and more tabloids and all that.”
Jake shot Nick a look before pulling away, gently pushing me to Matt, who draped a comforting arm around my shoulders. Jake got to his feet and pointed at Ronnie.
“You have a kid and a wife,” he said as Nick stood and moved beside him. “And Matt has a wife. You guys stay here with Iz. Nick and I will take care of this.”
“No,” I said, wriggling out of Matt’s grasp. “No. Please, Jake, just stay here. I don’t want you going after anyone. I don’t want you or anyone else getting into any trouble.”
Jake’s eyes bored into mine. He stared into my face, studying my features, before slumping his shoulders and returning to his seat. “Fine, Iz. For now. I’ll stay here with you tonight but I will pay that bastard back for hitting you.”
“I’m fine,” I said, stifling a yawn. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just … tired.”
“Okay. Let’s get you upstairs,” Jake said, helping me to my feet. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
Nothing sounded better.
When we got upstairs, Jake led me through his bedroom and into the bathroom. He flipped the toilet lid down and nodded. I sank down, watching as he retrieved a washcloth and wet it under warm water.
With soft hands, he cleaned my face, barely touching the sore parts. Once he finished, he left me to rummage through the dresser drawers in his bedroom and returned with a t-shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts.
“Why don’t you change and then hop into bed,” he said. “I’m going to go downstairs and talk to the guys for a second.”
I grabbed his wrist as panic returned. “Please, Jake. Don’t go after Brad.”
He squatted in front of me, brushing the hair off my face. “I promise I won’t, Iz. Relax, okay?”
Nodding, I gave him a weak smile, the knot between my shoulders loosening. Standing, he helped me to my feet and, holding my hand, guided me to his bedroom. He tossed back the blankets, dropping my hand to do so, and then pointed at the bed.
“Get in,” he said. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you in a bit.”
“Thanks,” I said as my eyes fluttered shut. I didn’t hear him leave the room.
When I woke next, it was still dark and I had the impression that I hadn’t been asleep for long. Turning my head, I spotted light drifting out from the bottom of the bathroom door. A second later, it disappeared as Jake emerged. Quietly crossing the room, he sat on the side of the bed, brushing my hair back from my face.
“Jake,” I whispered.
“Sorry, Iz,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. I’ll be right across the hall.”
“No,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Stay here, please.”
“Are you sure, Iz?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, as I scooted to the other side of the bed.
With slight trepidation, Jake climbed in beside me, pulling the sheet over his body. I moved closer, burrowing into his side. He kissed the top of my head as I closed my eyes once more.
***
The next time I woke, sunlight was pushing through the opening between the heavy curtains, forcing its way to my face. Birds sang outside the window, greeting another beautiful day.
Turning my head, I winced as my sore cheek touched the pillow. Memories of the night before returned as I looked for Jake. His side of the bed was empty.
I padded to the bathroom, Jake’s t-shirt falling to below my knees, covering the shorts he’d given m
e last night. When I peered into the mirror, I grimaced at the ugly purple and black bruise under my eye and the angry red mark on my cheek.
“Great,” I muttered as I carefully washed my face, ran my fingers through my unruly hair, and searched for a toothbrush. The only toothbrush I could find was Jake’s and even though we’d shared many things that summer I’d stayed with him, a toothbrush wasn’t one of them. I decided I’d just have to run into the little town and get one later.
After fussing with my hair – finally using Jake’s comb to tame some of the wilder locks, I wandered downstairs in search of the other humans.
At the bottom of the steps, voices drifted toward me from the kitchen. Obviously, the others were still here. With a shrug, I pushed open the kitchen door to find Jake, Nick, Ronnie, and Matt sitting around the table, nursing coffee.
“What’s this – a meeting of the minds or a Knights of the Round Table session?” I asked, hoping to inject some humor into the air. I didn’t want them focusing on my bruised face or a hunt for Brad’s head.
“Morning, Iz,” Nick said, rising from his chair to fetch a mug from the cabinet. He poured coffee and then set the mug in front of the empty seat next to Jake.
“Thanks,” I said, inhaling the rich, caffeinated smell rising from the cup.
“How are you feeling?” Jake asked.
“Fine,” I said, forcing a smile. All eyes were on me, making me squirm in my seat. “Honestly, I’m okay.”
Jake opened his mouth to protest but Matt cut in. “I called Greta. She’s going to bring some clothes over for you in a little bit.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Why isn’t she here?”
“We had a session last night,” Ronnie explained. “We were going to work on music all weekend. We usually just crash here when we do.”
“Oh,” I said as heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” Jake said, dropping a hand to my knee. “We’re glad you came here.”
Nodding, I dropped my eyes to the warm liquid in my cup. “Thanks, all of you.”
“Iz, what happened?” Ronnie asked amidst little sounds of annoyance and irritation. Ronnie ignored them as he kept his eyes on me. “We’re not supposed to bug you about it but I cannot sit here and do nothing when one of my best friends has bruises on her face.”
