by Ashley Beale
When he doesn't go, my voice rises to a piercing volume. "You need to leave!"
Shaking his head back and forth, his positions his hands in front of his chest, palms facing me. He's showing he means no harm, I get it, but I'm not going to sit here and take it. He has no reason to dig through who I am and what has happened to me- not now nor in my past.
"Fine," he says after a second. "Fine, Brenna. I was trying to help, but..." He shakes his head more, reaching for the door. "You know what... You can push me away if you want to. You can get defensive and pissed off. Whatever you need to do. I'm fueled with anger myself, but... if you need help, protection, against whoever did this to you, you know where I live."
With that he shuts the door- more of a slam actually- and because his voice was spoken with such sincerity, it jumps me to hear the aggressive thud from the door latching.
I probably ruined any potential to a great friendship, but I also saved him from the torment of being my friend. He hasn't realized it yet, he may never realize it, but I did him a favor.
After several minutes of staring blankly at the door- with a piece of me begging for him to come back and hold me, so I feel safe for even a moment in time- I realize that I'm being pathetic. I don't need a guy to make me feel safe, not Everett, not anyone. What I do need, however, is a friend.
Walking into the kitchen, I strip entirely of my clothing, undergarments and all. They go straight into the trash. My heels are gorgeous, and I paid more money on these ones than any other pair I own, but I can never look at them again the same way, so they also go into the trash as well. I pull the bag out, tie it up and toss it at the door. Anger and aggression flood me. I can feel myself ready to lose control.
Reaching into the cupboard, I pull down a wine glass then walk over to the wine rack I have on my counter, reaching for my most expensive red wine. Before I grab it, I tell myself this isn't a time to sip on wine and relax, this is a time to get fucking shit faced drunk and forget who I am. Even if it's for a few hours.
Bending down, I pull out my unopened bottle of Grey Goose from the cupboard, then open it to take a straight shot. It feels unsettling, but that doesn't stop me from taking another few swigs.
Padding through the house to the bathroom, I start the shower and step into the cascading hot water, washing away the sins from today. There are too many parts on my body that ache and burn, and the water running down the drain has flashes of blood. I thought the steaming water would bring me some solace, even for a second, instead it only brings more remorse. My fist curls and I can't help the slam of my knuckles against the stone wall. They don't bleed, nor even crack, and somehow this angers me more, so I punch it again. Then a third time. My middle finger starts to swell.
At this point it doesn't matter though, because my entire body is pained, inside and out.
I haven't exactly raved about my job, but I've definitely enjoyed it. It has many incredible perks. Then it has times when it truly sucks, and I wonder to myself if I'd be better working a real job. More often than not, I realize this is a job meant for me. Sex, money, luminaries, secrets, entertainment, and most importantly, no strings attached... ever. I've never been to this point, to where I wasn't sure I was going to walk out of the room.
I don't ever want to be put into that predicament again either.
Maybe from here on out, unless they're regulars, I won't allow my body to be for rent. I'll safeguard myself. I know Kandy will understand once I tell her.
Kandy, shit. I need to speak with her.
Turning the shower off, I climb out and wrap a towel around me. Twisting another one around my hair. I avoid the mirror entirely as I scurry pass. My reflection is not something I want to look at right now.
My phone is shoved down in my purse- when I pull it out, I have three missed calls and two messages. All from Kandy. She can be worse than a mother. I hit the call-back button.
"Oh, good, you had me worried," she announces as her greeting.
"I'm home, I'm good," I answer back. Closing my eyes I argue with myself, wondering if I should tell her what had happened or wait until later.
Then she asks, "How did everything go? A regular?" I hate that she sounds hopeful. Gleeful even.
It makes it hard for me to answer her back. "I can't see him again, Kandy. None of the girls should."
There is a silence over the line for a solid thirty seconds, seeming even longer due to the antsy feeling the whole situation gives me. I don't want to say it out loud, but there is no point in hiding it now. "What happened?"
"He's... He um..."
"Brenna, dear God, you need to tell me what happened. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I quickly dismiss her worries. Only to add to them. "He got rough. Too rough. I'm going to be sore for a while, and you need to cancel my clients for the next two weeks. After that, I think I'll only become sexual with my regulars, the rest need to be for arm candy and so forth." My eyes still closed, I bite down on my lip, somehow nervous for how she's going to react.
This time when she speaks, I can tell she's choked with emotion. "Sweetie, do you need to go to the doctors? Should you get checked? What did he do? Should I come over there?"
"I'm fine, it's fine, Kandy." I don't want her rushing over here or ruining her business over all this. I am a big girl, I can handle myself fine. That is a proven fact with the last decade of my life. "Seriously. Loose him as a client, and I'll keep in touch with you. Thank you for thinking of me."
There is another pause, then she says, "If you say so. I trust you, Brenn. I love you like a child, you know this."
"I do, and I'm so very thankful for you."
"Okay, sweetie. I'll chat with you tomorrow." The exuberance in her voice is gone. Somehow I feel guilty about it- like it's all my fault, but I try not to.
"Have a good night." We hang up the conversation, and I head back for the Grey Goose, bringing it with me as I head into the bedroom.
*~*~*
It's been three days since the incident. Three days of healing, and my eye looks worse than it had before. My neck even more so. All the bruising has turned a nasty greenish-yellow, with hints of purple and blue. I haven't left the house for any reason, but I'm running low on liquor.
Dressing in a pair of leggings and a loose tank top, I tie another scarf around my neck, making it look as fashionable as I can- then I add a ton of extra makeup, keep my hair down despite the humid weather, and finish the attire with a pair of oversized sunglasses. It seems that everything is covered up except the fading scratch down my arm and a little scab on the side of my lip. I try to add lip-gloss but all it does is make it more noticeable, so I wipe it back off.
Grabbing the keys and my purse, I head out the door, hoping I don't run into Everett.
I've spent too much time overanalyzing everything. A part of me hates how mean I was to him, another part says I did the right thing- for both him and me. A piece of me wants to go apologize, a larger piece says there is no way in hell. Some of me wants to tell him that some random guy did this while I was out and about, the remainder of me says to leave the entire thing alone. I've listened to that one, despite the continuous voices in my head arguing about.
Nothing some more alcohol can't fix.
Which sucks, because liquor was never my addiction, it was never the thing I ran to when I was feeling low. Instead I used sex, which is how I got to where I am. Now because of sex, I’m running to liquor. I guess at this rate, anything to erase the pain, at least while it’s still fresh.
I head straight to the liquor store and purchase four bottles of Patron, grabbing everything I need to make a few different cocktails. Okay, more than a few. I even decide to grab a couple bags of chips, since I haven't exactly eaten much. I went the last several days without even showering or anything- not until this morning that is. It's been a blurred series of drinking and more drinking. A bit of cuddling with Snuggles and some quick conversations with Kandy.
Other than that, it's bee
n a whole lot of nothing. At least, nothing that I can remember.
I'm sure with a few more days of it everything will go back to normal- at least as normal as it can be after someone strips away the last amount of self-worth you own.
Arriving back at the complex, I head towards the wall of mailboxes to check what I have. I'm sure it's mainly bills. I figured I could get away with it since Everett's truck wasn't outside. Pulling out the mail, I shove it all into one of the bags I'm carrying, then I head towards the elevator.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch him stride into the lobby, his hair a mess the way it was the first time I saw him. He has on a pair of gym shorts and a beater, and I'm angry with myself for wanting to see more of him, but I quickly make it to the elevator, pretending I don't notice it at all. It's easy to do with my cellphone in hand.
Once I'm back in my condo, I break down. I think it's the first actual time I've full on cried in hysterics over everything. I tell myself it's because of what happened the other night with the asshole who roughed me up- but all my thoughts fall onto how I treated Everett, which in return reminds me that I have no one to confide in, because it wasn't all that long before this when I ruined what I had with Hillarie.
Placing everything on the counter, including a new toy I picked up for Snuggles, I scroll through my contacts for Hillarie's number. I'm honestly surprised when she answers. Before an apology can be expressed I break down.
"What's wrong? I can come see you if you need," she gushes out, being the sweet, dear friend she's always been. I hate myself for being so selfish with her.
Despite my best efforts in avoiding telling her the truth, I finally do, not giving her any names or too specific of details. All the way to when I flipped out on Everett.
"I hate to repeat my earlier statement Brenna, but I think you should retire what you're doing."
"I understand why you think that, I do," I tell her honestly. "But I've already told Kandy that I will no longer be with anyone except my regulars. I know and trust them, and there isn't that many. Basically enough to pay my bills and have a bit of extra spending. Nothing more than that." I omit telling her I'll still escort people without sleeping with them, not needing her to worry any more than she does. I've been doing this long enough to know I'll be fine keeping it that way.
She huffs, the noise cracking in my ear. "Okay. I'm not going to argue with you, but if this happens again, please, please, please reevaluate the situation as a whole. None of it is worth your life."
"I will, I promise."
"Good. Now, about this Everett fella." I can hear her voice perk up at the thought. "Who is he, why haven't I heard about him before now, and are you in love with him?"
"No!" I gasp. "Definitely not. I hardly know him. He lives in the building with me, that's all."
"That is not all of it. Why was he waiting for you at your door the other day? How come you pushed him away like you do everyone else you care about?"
The latter of her words slice right through me. I'm sure she didn't mean to sound so harsh, so I let it slide in one ear and out the other, while leaving a scar along the way. "I don't know why he was here, all I know is he crossed lines he shouldn't have."
"What lines?"
"Being... nosey."
"You mean, concerned."
"No, nosey. None of it was his business."
"Could you honestly imagine if he noticed all your bruises and such, and he didn't try to push for the truth? That'd make him a fucking asshole. He was concerned, Brenn, you need to apologize."
"Nope."
She sighs once more, hating that I'm so stubborn. I'm hating that she is so right, so I guess that makes our frustration pretty equal to one another’s. "Fine, you win. He was in the wrong for caring about you, and for having a crush on you, and for being a concerned citizen. How horrible of him."
I can't help but smile. She's right, we both know it, I simply won't admit it out loud. Which is where her sarcasm came in, because she knows it as well as I do. "Thank you," I tell her. "That was my thought exactly."
We talk amongst ourselves a bit, and I ask her how things are going with Travis. I'm going to try to not let it bother me that I believe she's throwing her life away, because if this conversation did anything, it proved that neither of us agree with one another in our life choices but we can still respect each other, be concerned for another, and most importantly still be friends.
I feel a hundred times better once our conversation is done, especially when she tells me she'll be back in a few weeks for our monthly lunch date.
Placing the phone on the counter, the silence of my home bothers me greatly, but knowing I can't exactly go lay in the sun with all these bruises, I pull the Patron out of the bag. I'm still giving it a few days before I'm ready to face the real world again. One thing at a time, I tell myself. All in time, everything will be how it once was.
Chapter Ten
Everett
She isn't fooling anyone with that one piece. At least not me. She almost always has a bikini on, which means she's covering up something, probably many things. Cuts and bruises. Who knows what else.
I don't even want to know how many. Nor do I want to know if she has any that are new.
I stare out the kitchen window, probably a bit too huntsman-like, watching Brenna as she whips her towel to lay flat on top of the sand. She sits down on it before pulling sunscreen from the miniature pink and white cooler that she always has with her.
As she runs her hand along the skin of her arm, Emily pushes up next to me, peering out towards the beachgoers. "Which one is she?"
"Who?" I ask.
I've never mentioned Brenna, nor any female for that matter, to Emily. She's been here since this morning, and has basically been busying herself making my condo look like home. I told her not to, that I can do it myself, but she insisted- called it her nesting phase. Says she loves to decorate, organize, clean, prepare, like her mother instincts are kicking in before the arrival of my nephew.
There is no way after only spending a solid six hours with me does she know that I'm infatuated with someone. I haven't mentioned names, been distracted, or given any hints.
Peeking over at Emily, she grins up in my direction. "You're not the only detective in the family. I may only be a school teacher, but I have that intuition, the same as you. Who is she? What have you done to ruin it?"
"Who said I ruined anything?"
"You, by that nasty scowl on your face as you stare off at..." she looks out the window again. "There aren't many young girls out there, I'm assuming it's the one in the pink."
I look back out but I don't have to check in order to tell her no, she's not wearing a pink bathing suit. Brenna's one piece is navy blue with white vertical strips. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, strands falling perfectly down around her face, and she has on a pair of aviator glasses.
"So what happened?" she asks after a moment of silence.
"Nothing," I murmur, stepping from the window.
She follows behind me, straight to the fridge. I pull out a bottle of Gatorade, and she reaches around me for some water. Before the fridge closes, she grabs a bowl of fruit she bought at the store, bringing her items to the counter. "Don't tell me nothing." She puts the fork into a piece of watermelon, eyeing me the entire time, waiting for something from me. Before taking a bite, she lifts a brow. "Must be pretty bad if you're not saying anything."
I do tell Emily practically everything, unless it involves work. I guess maybe that is half the reason I don't want to say anything- even though Brenna isn't a case for me, I still find it invasive for me to tell Emily the details. Since they'll probably never meet- seeing as Brenna will probably never speak to me again- I sit down on the stool next to her, pressing my face into my hands.
Turning my head to face Emily, I watch her take a few bites of fruit not focusing on anything other than me. She looks a lot like our mom right now, with her brown hair cut short like
it is, and those hazel eyes big and round.
"She lives in this building," I admit. "We were barely friends, we haven't even hung out or talked much at all, but I enjoyed being around her anyways. Something about her is consuming. She's different in every way imaginable. It was hard not to be hypnotized by her self-respect, or her bright green eyes, or the way she attempts not to smile when I speak to her. She plays hard to get, but the thing is, I don't think she's actually playing it. I don't know." I shake my head. "We were becoming friends, and I was enjoying it, and I wanted to see more of her, but she shut me out for good."
"What happened?"
"Things."
"Such as?"
"Things?"
"Don't make me play the, I'm pregnant, so you cannot stress me out card. I will, and you won't like it."
"You bitch," I joke. Emily smacks me upside the head the same way our dad would, and I can't help but laugh. "Fine, fine," I tell her. "I showed up at her place last week, and she had arrived back from somewhere all beaten and battered. I asked her what happened, I was even extremely calm about it all, but she said she fell at work. Hit her eye on a rock. I knew it wasn't true, for many reasons, and I tried to get the truth out of her, but in the end she was screaming at me to leave and she avoids me at all cost. I've only kind of ran into her once the other day, but she looked down at her phone and acted as if I didn't even exist on the same planet as her any longer."
Emily drops her fork into the bowl of fruit, pushing it away. "Wait, first off, do you know it wasn't from falling?"
"Yes. I had a feeling she had an abusive ex due to different circumstances, maybe even a family member, but when she showed up looking the way she did, I knew it without a doubt."
"This was last week?" I nod my head to answer her. "And you haven't tried to reconcile with her again?"
"It's pointless."
"It's not pointless. Do I need to smack you again? God, guys are such idiots!" Emily hops down from the stool, rolling her eyes at me. She peeks back out the kitchen window towards the beach. "Which one is she?"
