When Faults Collide (Faultlines #1)

by Claire Granger

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Late Thursday morning I stood in our kitchen frantically putting the finishing touches on our Thanksgiving meal.

  All of the main course was pretty much finished. I had a turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, green beans with almonds, and rolls that I picked up at the bakery. I also had an array of appetizers for the pre-meal fun. Mini samosas, a cranberry cheese spread, and pancetta wrapped asparagus.

  Lily was responsible for dessert and I was certain she would come with a traditional pumpkin pie, since it was her favorite.

  I set the oven to warm and dashed upstairs to change. I had banned Blake to the living room to watch TV because I had a certain “method” and didn’t want him to interrupt me. He took his banishment with grace.

  I heard the doorbell ring as I slipped on my skinny jeans, white tank, and orange boyfriend cardigan.

  I quickly fixed my hair into a bun and then went back down the stairs to find Tom, Lily, and Blake in the living room.

  I hugged and kissed them both on the cheek and then sat down so we could talk.

  Tom’s realtor had been working with Blake’s and they had plans to close on Blake’s old house in the next few weeks.

  “Can you believe we are going to be neighbors?” Lily asked me excitedly.

  “I can’t wait!” I said, grinning at my best friend.

  “Well, ahem, we have some news.” Lily said.

  I sat up straighter and tilted my head waiting to hear it.

  “We set a date. January 10th,” Lily said, eyeing me.

  “Wow, that’s soon!” I said, and then seeing her distress I quickly added, “But it’s great! Where’s it going to be?”

  “At my parent’s vacation cabin in the mountains.” Tom answered.

  “Lily that will be gorgeous!” I said excitedly.

  Tom’s parents had a vacation home near the Blue Ridge Parkway that was a huge log cabin with a deck that has panoramic mountain views. It was a fun and regular vacation spot for us.

  Tom told Blake about the cabin as Lily told me about the opening of My Fair Lady, which was set for the next week.

  “You will be there, right?” she asked.

  “Duh. Wouldn’t miss it. Have I ever missed an opening night for you?” I answered.

  “No, but, you know. Things are different now,” she said before adding, “Good different. Just different. You know?”

  I reached out and held her hand. “Yes, I know. But yes, we will both be there.”

  The doorbell rang and I stood up to answer. Gus greeted me warmly with a hug.

  Gus was a tall guy with a very fit physique. He had dark black hair, deep brown eyes, and carried himself with a sense of authority and prowess. He was slightly older than the rest of us, and had just finished up his PHD in art history.

  “Gus! So good to see you!” I said.

  “Back at you, blue eyes. Where’s this young man who seems to have taken you off the market?” he teased.

  I led him to the living room and introduced him to Blake.

  Lily gave him a big hug and then proclaimed, “Thank God you aren’t with that horrid witch!”

  Blake looked at us with confusion while the rest of us laughed, Gus included.

  “Blake, Gus dated Mandy for a brief time,” I explained, moving to his side.

  He nodded. “Oh okay. You never did tell me what happened with you two.”

  I told them what had occurred with Mandy, both at the grocery store and at Shine, and by the end everyone was fuming.

  “Ash! You should’ve told me! Oh, what I wouldn’t do to go give that bitch a piece of my mind!” Lily said furiously.

  Gus appeared to be the angriest, but he said nothing; he held onto his beer bottle with white knuckles.

  “Don’t worry about it, guys. Really. I took care of it,” I said, trying to reassure everyone.

  Gus leaned in close to me and said quietly, “If she ever gives you any more problems, let me know immediately. I will remedy the situation.”

  Outside I heard a motorcycle pull up.

  “There’s Beatrice!” Lily exclaimed.

  I leaned into Blake as Lily went to greet her and kissed him softly. He wrapped his arms around my back then said, “I’m going to ban Mandy from Shine. She won’t be back there.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no reason to do that, Blake. She manages a ton of local bands. We are going to cross paths with her at some point. There’s no reason to make it awkward. Just ignore her desperate cries for attention and everything will be fine.”

  He looked at me for a moment and then kissed the top of my forehead. “I don’t care if she manages every local band. She’s never stepping foot in my club again.”

  I squeezed him tightly, appreciating his need to protect me.

  “The party has arrived!” Beatrice exclaimed as she came into the living room with the rest of us.

  I giggled and turned around to greet her.

  “Blake, this is Beatrice. You both enjoy risking your life on death machines,” I said, introducing them.

  Beatrice reached her hand forward to shake Blake’s. “You ride?”

  Blake nodded. “Well, yes and no. I don’t have my own bike, but I ride my dad’s from time to time. Nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, my family all rides too. My mom actually married a motorcycle club president.” Beatrice said.

  “Really? I didn’t know that,” I said, surprised by this.

  Beatrice shrugged. “You never asked.”

  Beatrice and Blake quickly became engrossed in death machine discussion. Tom and Gus were talking sports, so Lily and I made our way into the kitchen to grab all of the appetizers.

  As soon as we got in there Lily pulled me close. “I saw your blog post over the weekend...thanks for telling the whole freaking world first!” she whispered.

  I giggled. “Oh come on, Lils. Are you jealous?”

  She nodded, completely serious. “Yes. Now, tell me all about it.”

  I relayed the story to her about the ride on his motorcycle and my decision to show him that I trusted him and how that led us back to the bedroom.

  “Oh my God...it’s like something from a romance novel!” Lily exclaimed.

  Lily pretty much lived with her nose buried into a smutty romance novel. I never found the appeal; I found them to be a little ridiculous, but they were like the oxygen she needed to breathe.

  After we got all of the appetizers set up, Gus walked into the foyer to answer his phone. Even though he was trying to be quiet, I heard bits and pieces of his conversation.

  “Listen to me, Amanda. I do not care what you think, I told you from day one what this was, and harassing my friends is unacceptable.” (pause) “No, and do I need to remind you of exactly who I am?” (pause) “Then you will back off. Do you understand?”

  Beatrice leaned in and whispered. “You know he’s into all that kinky stuff.”

  I looked at her with confusion. “What?”

  She patted my back and then whispered again. “Let’s just say Mandy knows who the boss is...he’s just reminding her.”

  I stared between Beatrice and Gus, but didn’t ask any more. This conversation was way beyond my comfort zone.

  The rest of the day went without a hitch, and while I loved spending time with my friends, I was grateful when everyone was gone. I wanted some time alone with my guy.

  As I closed the door, I felt his arms come around my waist.

  “Hi, gorgeous girl,” he said into my hair.

  “Hi there,” I purred in reply.

  Sometime later, I rolled over and laid back on the bed, breathing heavily and soaking up every ounce of bliss from the moment before.

  “This feels like a drug.” I said breathlessly.

  “Ha. Yeah, to some degree, my intense fear of it is probably a good thing. A lot of guys who have assault histories end up being extremely slutty,” Blake replied.

  “Can I ask...what kind of drugs did you do?”


  “Coke, mostly. My possession charge was for coke,” he answered.

  “And you stopped after the charge?”

  “No. I wish it had been that simple. No, I stopped after Amy caught me snorting lines off of the top of my dresser about six months into my placement,” he said, looking up as if remembering.

  “Oh. She convinced you to stop?” I asked.

  “She didn’t have to. Her eyes showed so much disappointment. She threw away my coke and then just held me into a hug and told me that she loved me repeatedly. I kept trying to push her off of me and tell her to fuck off, and she just held on,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

  “She loves you,” I said softly.

  He nodded. “She does. They do. And I love you.”

  I rolled onto my side and put my arm across his chest. “I love you, too.”

  Blake accompanied me to my session the next day with Katherine. He was off work and since Katherine had been bugging me, I finally conceded and let him join me.

  We met her in her office and sat in the black leather sofa across from her “therapist chair,” as I called it.

  “So, we’ve made some big progress as I understand.” Katherine began.

  “How did you—? Lily,” I said, annoyed.

  Katherine chuckled. “Yes, Lily.”

  Blake reached over and held my hand.

  “So, Blake, I would love to hear your thoughts. Why do you think you both have been able to overcome your fears of intimacy and graduate into sexual intercourse?” she asked, sipping what appeared to be green tea.

  Blake cleared his throat. “I...uh...I think it’s because we were able to make it...you know...about us...instead of the act.”

  Katherine nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Lily told me the details and it sounds as if Asha letting down her walls to allow herself to trust you. And in your desire to provide her with that trust, it allowed you both to make the experience an emotional act of connection versus simply a physical act of lust.”

  I put my free hand over my face. This was absolutely mortifying.

  “But we can move on to something else, since this subject is obviously upsetting dear Asha,” Katherine teased. “Let’s talk about the box.”

  “The box?” Blake questioned.

  “No. We don’t need to talk about the box,” I said quickly.

  “Yes we do, Asha. Would you rather talk about the box or about your sex life? Your choice. I’m more than happy to inquire about positions,” Katherine said, deadpanned.

  “You bitch,” I muttered.

  “What’s this box?” Blake asked.

  “A box of my mother’s things,” I said, playing with an imaginary thread on my skirt as I spoke.

  “You have a box of your mother’s things? Why is this bad to talk about?” Blake asked.

  “Because she has never opened it or looked inside, and she has refused myself and her father to look inside,” Katherine answered.

  “There’s no reason to look inside,” I said in a voice that could barely be recognized as a whisper.

  “Oh, I disagree. Dear girl, you have grown so much. I think you will admit that a lot of your growth is due to the fact that you are willing to open up to Blake here and talk about your past. You are letting this box hold you back. It’s time to open the box,” Katherine said firmly.

  Blake squeezed my hand and I lifted my face to meet his gaze.

  “I think it would be good for you to look,” he said softly.

  My lip trembled and I felt a lone tear sneak down my cheek. He reached out and wiped it away with his thumb.

  “What if it makes me go back there? I’m doing good...” I cried.

  He nodded and continued to hold my cheek in his hand. “Yes, you are doing good, but I think you will do better when you deal with this. If it makes you have a flashback, I will be there to bring you back. I won’t leave you in your darkness.”

  I nodded and looked over at Katherine, who was watching the two of us curiously.

  “What?” I asked her.

  She shook her head. “Nothing at all, dear.”

  I didn’t believe her, but decided not to push the issue.

  We wrapped up our session after a while and Blake and I headed home.

  Blake got a call to go down to Shine to handle some kind of ordering issue; he offered to stay but I insisted that he went.

  Katherine was right. It was time.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  I breathed in and out slowly, paying close attention to my own inhale and slow exhale.

  I could do this. I just had to shake off the nerves.

  I slid open the lid of the box and a tear immediately fell down my cheek. The tattered sheet that covered my childhood doorway was folded and lay at the top.

  I sighed. Blake had offered to be here, and I had told him no.

  Why had I told him no?

  Because you need to do this for yourself, I reminded myself internally.

  “Okay, shake it off, Asha. You got this,” I whispered.

  I pulled the sheet off and set it aside.

  My lip trembled when I saw the additional contents. I pulled out a small stack of books.

  The Count of Monte Cristo, Macbeth, Animal Farm, Pride and Prejudice, and a few other classics were among the small stack. I set them to the side, running my fingers over the cover of Pride and Prejudice, as it had been my mom’s favorite. The cover was badly worn and felt cracked beneath my fingertips.

  I pulled out my childhood journal and set it aside and then my head tilted to the side in confusion when I saw another journal beneath it. It wasn’t mine, so it must have been hers, but how could I not have remembered her having a journal?

  I hesitated before I picked it up. Did I really want to know what was inside?

  I opened it to the first page and my hand flew to my mouth as I slowly read the first page.

  Chandra says that it gets easier. That I will learn my role and will even get to a point of enjoying it. I don’t know that I could ever enjoy this. I feel like I’m living a personal hell and that there’s no salvation. My only salvation packed it up and moved to America ten months ago. Does he think about me? Sometimes when the men visit me, I pretend in my mind that it’s him...it makes it almost bearable. Almost. Chandra’s role here is to secure the men who come. Most people think that she is like us, but she’s not. She’s far better. She treats me well and makes sure that I’m taken care of, so long as I take care of the men. Sometimes I want to leave, to try my hand at the city without this brand of “whore” on my forehead. Chandra is always there though, to remind me that there is no life for me outside. She reminds me that he left and isn’t coming back. She reminds me that my own father abandoned me. She is my family...she’s all that I have. Except, of course, for Asha. She is two months old today and is the best baby in the world. I hold her and rock her and feed her my milk and all I can think is that she deserves more. But I don’t have a choice. Chandra was good to us. She gave me shelter and food and didn’t make me work my entire pregnancy. She is the reason Asha is here and safe and healthy. So if being with these men is what I have to do to keep my daughter safe and healthy, then it is the burden I must carry.

  Tears poured down my face as I tried to process this information. I picked up my phone. I couldn’t deal. I just—I couldn’t deal.

  It rang once before he picked up.

  “Hey baby, what’s going on?” he asked, concern laced in his tone.

  “Blake...I—” my voice croaked.

  “I’m coming home,” he said firmly.

  “Thank you,” I squeaked, unable to hold back the sobs anymore.

  I hung up the phone and it only took him a few minutes to get home.

  He sat in front of me and pulled me into him. I soaked up his scent and found my center. I steadied my breathing and focused on him.

  He held me and stroked my back, running his hands down my hair as he did.

  After a few minutes I pulled back and wiped away my
tears.

  His eyes met mine and were searching. He looked in pain, probably trying to figure out how to make me feel better.

  “Chandra...” I said simply.

  He cocked his head to the side questioning. “Who?”

  I took a deep breath. “Chandra. She was my mother’s best friend...I thought that anyways. I thought she was a prostitute just like her.”

  His eyes still showed confusion. “Okay...what about her?”

  I held up my mother’s journal. “I have never seen this before. It was my mother’s journal. Chandra was her...what’s the word... madam. That’s it. Her female pimp. My entire life I had no idea. I—I feel so...”

  His hands grasped onto mine. “What do you feel baby?”

  “Pissed off. Hurt. Confused,” I said, trying to put words to the emotions swirling around inside me.

  “Did you not think your mom had a pimp?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. I just thought she chose to be there. It doesn’t sound like it though.”

  My voice cracked and the tears came again. I showed Blake the first page and let him read it.

  His eyes swirled with his own level of emotions that I couldn’t place as he read. He closed it after finishing, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

  “Holy shit, Ash,” he said in a whisper.

  “What?” I asked.

  “My mother also kept a journal. I swear to God it sounds so similar. I seriously feel like I just read a page of my mother’s journal,” he said, his eyes still closed.

  He suddenly stood up and walked out of the room. He went to the hall closet and I heard him digging around. He returned a moment later with a tattered and torn composition book. He opened it and flipped through a few pages before landing on one.

  “Here. Read,” he said, handing it to me.

  I took the abused book and set it on my lap. I looked down and began to read.

  Dante says that nobody in the whole world gives a shit about me but him. That he’s my only family. And I believe him. He’s done everything for me. He is everything to me. But damnit, I can’t do this shit anymore. This is too much. Last night he took me to a party; apparently I was the party favor. There were six men there. I am so sore today I can hardly walk. Dante saved me, and I owe him everything, so I guess I need to toughen up and learn how to do this. He says that it should give me pleasure to give him pleasure. I’m trying, I really am. The only person I want touching me is him but he won’t do that unless I make him happy, which means making the customer happy. The Johns are always first. His affection is something I yearn for, something I crave. But I have to earn it. Besides, even if I wanted to leave, Dante says that nobody would hire a former prostitute. That charge a few months ago assured that I will forever be branded a whore. It wasn’t Dante’s fault I caught a charge. Shit, he’s the one who bailed me out and took me home! My home is here with him, he’s everything to me. I just have to figure out how to make him happy. He’s so good to Blake too. I worry sometimes what this world will do to him, but I would be dead or worse if it weren’t for Dante. Blake will understand. Someday, I hope.