by Pamela Clare
“No,” I said. “Why?”
“I saw it there last night. Kind of odd. When I got back from the store this morning, it wasn’t there. Now it’s back.”
It could be anything out on the street. I wasn’t sure why this particular car spooked her, except that it did look rather shiny—as in clean—for this area. And though I couldn’t quite tell from the shape of it, it seemed somewhat new. Nice cars in a bad neighborhood spelled trouble.
“It’s probably nothing,” I said. “Or the neighbor in 6A. He’s got shifty eyes.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Probably nothing.”
It looked like I’d rubbed off on even Shelly. I didn’t like seeing her shaken—that wasn’t her—so I went for distraction. “Bailey has a new trick.”
“Oh?” she asked, some of the scary flatness fading from her eyes.
“Bailey, catch.” I gently tossed the large, soft ball to her. She pounced on the ball as it hit the floor, accurately guessing the arc if not quite catching it midair yet.
“Yay!” Shelly clapped. “Who’s my good girl?”
Bailey giggled. Previously we had only played roll, so this was a whole new world for her. I left them to their new game so I could change and get to work.
*
The bakery was a study in facades, the front of the shopping-strip building all brick, with fancy porticos and signage. Back in the employee parking lot, the cement was exposed, shorter than the brick wall. The contrast reminded me of a movie-set prop.
The inside was split too. The front room, where the customers came in, was spacious and tiled and clean. The back rooms were unfinished, the innards of the building exposed and cramped. Between the two, it was fitting that I was in the back. It wasn’t pleasant, just where I belonged.
When I went inside, my coworker and slacker supreme lounged against the counter. I forced myself to smile at him as I clocked in. “Hey, Jeremy.”
He glanced at me—my mouth, not my eyes—and then away. “Hi, Allie.”
“So…what have you got for me?”
“Two wedding cakes in the freezer. Cupcakes on a timer. Rick took an order for tomorrow.”
“Shit, tomorrow? What for?”
“Don’t know,” he mumbled, staring intently at the refrigerator beside me.
I managed a weak smile. “All right. I’d better get started.”
He shrugged and went into the bathroom. His shift was up when I got in, so it’d be on me to make whatever order Rick had agreed to.
After washing my hands and checking on the cupcakes, I went in search of Rick. He looked up from his paperwork. Not bothering with his customer smile, he said, “We got an order for a birthday cake. Fifty people. Over-the-hill theme. Tomorrow.”
“Jesus, Rick.”
“Don’t start with me. This is business.” Yes, business. The business where I cooked the cake using my recipes, decorated using my ideas, and took home a barely legal hourly wage. I wasn’t too bitter about that, but I didn’t want to work overtime on top of it. Not when Bailey was home with Shelly, and Shelly needed me back so she could go to work and make much more money selling her body.
Meanwhile the Sweet Spot was billed as an authentic family bakery with an eye on modern trends. No, Rick wasn’t my family. And judging by the covert looks he’d steal when he thought I wasn’t looking, he didn’t think of me that way either. But he didn’t touch me, and that made this better than Shelly’s job. Maybe.
“Fine,” I said. “Is that all they said?”
“She wants it classy.” He rolled his eyes.
I smiled slightly, commiserating. “Right. Over-the-hill, fifty people, classy. Got it.”
The back was empty, bathroom door open, so Jeremy had already left. I got to work on the cake batter. In reality the decorating was the easy part. The painful part would be all the waiting that would happen while baking, then cooling, then the first coat, then the full-on decorating. I’d have to work past my shift today to get it done, for sure. Most likely I’d stay up late tonight, rolling out fondant pieces on my counter at home so I could apply them to the finished cake tomorrow.
I barely heard Rick’s yell over the whir of the electric mixer. I flipped it off and listened.
“Allie. Phone!”
Only Shelly had this number; only Shelly would care to call. Well, I had to talk to her anyways, ask her if she could watch Bailey late today. Wiping my hands on my apron, I grabbed the plastic receiver.
“Shelly?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
I looked at the phone, then put it to my ear. Still nothing. I hung up. Poking my head out onto the floor, I called to Rick, “Nobody there.”
He looked up. “What?”
“There was nobody on the phone. Was it Shelly?”
“It was a guy.” Rick shrugged and looked back down at his work. “Asked for you by name.”
“Huh.” Weird. My dad? Not likely.
My heart still beat too fast, thumping erratically as if my body couldn’t make up its mind whether to squeal like a teenage girl or to worry like the woman it had become.
I called Shelly just to check. It hadn’t been her, but she agreed to watch Bailey late tonight. Only after I hung up did I think about using Call Return to call the guy back. Not that it was a big deal. Guys weren’t exactly standing in line to talk to me.
That’s what I kept telling myself. At least until I dropped the entire tray of frosted cupcakes on the floor. Count backward from ten. Everything will be fine.
*
By that night I was practically climbing out of my skin. I needed the release that my monthly date nights provided. They were rough, dirty, and more than a little unsafe—but they were on my terms. Without my fix I felt panicked and jumpy.
It must have showed, because Shelly took one look at me and told me to drop Bailey back off before her bedtime. I said no and took Bailey to the park, then to the library, anything to distract us both from the anxiety that threatened to tear me apart. In the end I gave in, tucking Bailey into Shelly’s bed and singing her to sleep before heading out to the club.
As I entered the building, the stench of stale alcohol and sweat hit me. I took a deep breath, a drag. Unsteady on my heels, I wove through the crowd toward the bar. Without planning it, I ended up where Colin had sat last time, and I felt an irrational pang of disappointment to find the bar stool empty. I sat there instead, my ass where his had been, nostalgic over some dirty, cracked plastic.
I signaled the bartender for my usual, but it burned on the way down. I glanced around, feeling cornered, even though I was right in the middle. Everything—the bar, the people, the strobing lights—was covered with a film of grime and dirt and shame. No, that didn’t make sense. It was me.
A hard body pressed against me from behind. Some part of my brain flickered with hope that it was Colin. But the body pressed harder, grinding its erection into my back, and I knew it wasn’t him. Not that I could recognize his cock print, just that it was too cheesy of a move for him. Too aggressive.
The acrid scent of sweat wafted from behind me. I started to turn, but hands clasped around my waist and squeezed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a rasping voice whispered in my ear. Cold lips slid down the side of my neck, leaving a trail of wetness like a slug.
I shivered. He chuckled.
At the other end of the bar the bartender was serving a group. If I screamed, he would probably hear me, even over the racket of music. He’d help, maybe.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m not going to hurt you.” A lie. My skin prickled in warning. I wanted someone who could be mean, but I tried not to cross the line into outright crazy, and this guy was ringing all the warning bells. His hands were already so tight on my hips that they’d leave bruises. Without having seen his eyes, I knew they would be empty, lifeless. He would be more than rough—he’d be brutal, dangerous.
“Come outside and play,” he said.
This was
what I’d come for, but now that it was here, I didn’t want it.
“No.”
He yanked on my arm, and I toppled from the stool. I finally got a look at him. I looked up to angry eyes and a shaved head. His bulging stomach did nothing to negate the meaty muscle everywhere else.
His eyes looked like I’d envisioned, but with something else: a cruel amusement. Oh, he’d hurt me, all right, and he’d enjoy it. Chills raced through me.
He grabbed my arm and turned to leave, but the bartender called us back. “Hey, stop.”
The man paused and turned. “What’s up?” he said.
The bartender looked from me, to the guy holding me, then back at me. “You okay?”
I don’t want this. Help me. “No, I…” Fingers tightened on my arm, cutting into the flesh. I cleared my throat against the thickness. “I’m okay.”
The bartender narrowed his eyes; then he was gone, lost in the swirl of flesh and nylon as I was dragged through the crowd and out the door. The man pulled me over to the side of a building, toward an overflow parking lot, mostly vacant. The heavy beat of the music boomed even outside the club, but I could still hear my blood rushing through my ears. I struggled, but it didn’t slow him down.
A truck was parked in the corner, against two brick walls.
He shoved me against the truck door, the metal cold against my back. His body pressed into me as his mouth came down on mine. He tasted me, consumed me, pushing his tongue in deep. Thick, harsh hands groped me, squeezing my breasts and grabbing my bare ass beneath my skirt.
“You know you want it, you little slut. Let’s see what you got.” He yanked my shirt down at the draped neckline, ripping the fabric. The cold winter air kissed my breasts right before his hands grabbed and burned.
Oh God, I was torn. I’d come here for this. I should want this, but I didn’t. I wanted to leave. I wanted him to stop touching me. I wanted to curl up and die.
“Don’t be a tease.” He squeezed hard. I gasped in pain but let him do it. Of course I did. This was what men did, and I was the girl who let them. The sick sense of triumph I felt every time I proved it was absent this time around.
“That’s better, baby.” He ravaged my body with his mouth and his hands. He was leaving marks on me, marks I knew from experience I would study later with revulsion and fascination.
Someone else kept intruding even as this guy assaulted me. It was Colin’s tongue in my mouth, Colin’s hand yanking my hair, Colin’s cock pushing painfully into my pubic bone. I closed my eyes. Maybe that was the solution. I could get the roughness I craved, but my imagination would make it safe.
Two fingers shoved inside me. Dry. My eyes snapped open. Not Colin.
He jammed them deeper, eliciting a whimpered, “No.” I hadn’t meant to say that. I told myself I wouldn’t say no, not again. It didn’t work, just made them angry. He was moving too fast and it hurt too much, but I could already feel myself start to slide into that place—the place where my mind slowed and none of the pain or the shame could touch me.
It didn’t matter, because he didn’t mind me. He’d do what he wanted. His lips twisted into a smile.
Abruptly he spun me around so that my exposed breasts were smashed against the door of his truck. His body shoved against mine stole my breath away, then more pain, in time with muted grunts from behind me.
Just as quickly there was nothing. No hard cock pushing against me or rough hands restraining me. Disoriented, I pushed off the truck, staggering back.
“…the fuck away from her,” I heard. And shit, I knew that voice.
Not Colin turned into an entreaty in my mind. I slowly dragged my gaze up. No, please, anyone but him. But of course there he was, looking like he was leading the charge into a fight instead of just witnessing me in all my shameful glory. Maybe other people dream of being naked in front of a crowded theater, but I already knew this moment would be memorialized in my nightmares: me, half-dressed in a dirty parking lot, in front of Colin.
My arms flew to my breasts, covering them in a futile attempt at modesty. My shoulders hunched as if I could curl in on myself. I envied those little pill bugs that could roll up into a ball. But my body didn’t come with any built-in armor. There was just my almost nakedness, exposed by men and my own stupidity.
Paralyzed with humiliation, I could only stand there.
“It’s not how it looks,” said the man. His voice was loud but shaky. If anyone could recognize false bravado, I could. “She wanted it. She was asking for it.”
Oh God. I had the most wildly inappropriate urge to laugh. It was true; it was true.
“Colin,” I managed to get out. “It’s nothing. It’s okay.”
Colin swung his gaze from the man to me. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Close enough.
“Come here.” He opened his arm, and without thinking I ran to his side.
“Fuck, I didn’t know she was with you!” The man was yelling now, almost screaming. “I didn’t know. What the fuck? I wouldn’t have touched her, I swear. I wasn’t going to hurt her.”
With his arm around me, I could feel Colin’s muscles tense as if he might spring at any moment, but I wanted this to be over. I leaned into him, molding my arms around his chest in an embrace meant to comfort and restrain.
“Please,” I whispered.
He glanced down at me, eyes blazing, but said to the man, “Get the fuck out of here.”
The man, whose name I hadn’t learned, got into his truck and sped out of the parking lot, leaving Colin and me in a haze of exhaust. We stood in that embrace, my bare breasts pressed against his shirt as if it were the two of us having an illicit encounter.
He pulled off his shirt, and my fucked-up mind wondered for just a moment if he would pick up where that man had left off. And how crazy I was; I’d let him.
Colin held out his hand with the shirt. I took it from him and slipped it on with a murmured thanks, unable to look him in the eye.
“Allie,” he said.
“Just go,” I croaked, looking at his shoes.
It was over, but my anxiety had only increased. He wasn’t touching me anymore, and I could hardly blame him. I didn’t want to touch my dirty skin either. I’d crawl out of it if it were possible. Just leave this dirty body behind and be someone else.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked.
Our roles seemed to have reversed, because I couldn’t speak. He was supposed to be the quiet one, and I was supposed to act brave. I shook my head.
“I could understand you wanting to do better than me, but why would you pick that fucker over me?”
“It wasn’t like…that.” Not exactly and not for the reasons he thought.
When I didn’t elaborate, he sighed. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.” If I kept saying it, maybe it would be true. But my breath was coming more rapidly. “I just want to leave, okay? Just go.”
“Allie, stop.”
“I said go. Leave me alone. I know you want to, so do it!” My words bounced off the brick walls, making his seem unnaturally quiet.
“I’m not leaving you.”
Unable to face the intensity of his stare, I looked down, only to feel a warm, strong body encase me. I stiffened only a moment before relaxing into his arms, because I could only fight myself for so long. Safe. His chest hair tickled my face, but I rubbed my cheek across it like a cat leaving her scent.
After a few minutes Colin led me to his truck and bundled me in like I did for Bailey, snug and secure. We left the club and my car behind, driving toward my apartment without me having to give directions. The light from the streetlamps only served to make the dark roads more intimate, as if we were the only ones in the city.
It was the perfect mood for confessions, not that I wanted to make any. “How did you know where to find me?”
“The bartender.”
I pondered that for a minute. “That guy. The one who…
He seemed really scared of you.”
A pause. “He just didn’t want any trouble.”
“It kind of seemed like he knew you.”
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m a mean son of a bitch.”
“You’re not mean, Colin. You’re a good guy.”
He smiled faintly. We drove the rest of the way in silence. Despite its inauspicious ending, the whole encounter accomplished what I’d needed. I felt relaxed, sleepy almost.
Even though he’d come home with me, I hadn’t expected he would want to have sex. In fact, I would have thought he wouldn’t, either out of disgust at what he’d seen earlier or a misguided sense of chivalry.
So I was surprised when Colin led me to my bedroom and kissed me, just a touch of his lips to mine. His hardness pressed against my stomach, announcing his purpose. My feelings were a jumble, but I wanted to give him something. A thank-you, an apology. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was to let a man fuck me.
He pulled off my clothes carefully, his fingertips pausing at each bruise. I stood for him in the middle of the room, still in my mellow head space. He could have asked me to do anything for him, but what he asked was, “Will I see you again?”
God, please.
How did he do this to me? I’d told myself that men only wanted sex, and that they weren’t above using force to get it. And that made a sick sort of sense, because Jacob was a man. A good one, supposedly. One I had trusted, that was for sure. My friend.
When he’d raped me, it was easier to write all men off. The men at the club had only proved the point. They thought they were using me, but it was the other way around. Every slap, every insult, every pinch-of-pain thrust had only cemented the walls that had allowed me to move past the rape and live my life. Now Colin wanted to bring all that down.
I couldn’t go back to that dark place in my mind. I’d do anything not to go there again.
So it killed me when I responded, “Yes.”
Maybe it made me weak, but I couldn’t give him up.
“What?” The little crease in the middle of his forehead showed he was as surprised as me.
“There’s something I have to tell you first.” I took a deep breath. “I have a kid. A little girl.”
