Exposed: An Anthology

by Brooke Cumberland

  I’m done by four and walk back to The Ladybug. I drive to my second job where I bartend on the weekends, and a couple nights during the week. I’m hardly a drinker, but the tips help pay the bills.

  I pull my hair down and brush my fingers through it. I shimmy out of my sweater, leaving only a pink cami. Not only did it get hot during the busy rushes, but also guys tip better the more skin I show. Shallow perhaps, but necessary, yes.

  As I walk through the back, I grab my apron and tie it around my waist. Then I head up to the bar where Julia and Kenna are already working.

  “Hey girls,” I smile as I punch in my code on the computer screen.

  “Carissa coming in tonight?” Julia asks.

  “As far as I know.” I pinch my lips together tight. I helped Carissa get this job, but she’s somehow managed to give herself a name. And not a good one.

  “Can I get some fucking service over here?” I turn and see a man who has clearly been drinking for a while. His eyes are bloodshot, and he can barely stand. He holds on to the bar for support and nearly stumbles as he waves his ten-dollar bill at me.

  I’m used to customers like him. It doesn’t really bother me much, but at times, it can be annoying. Carissa will usually yell some foul language back at them, and then squeeze her boobs together to get them to calm down.

  I scowl and make my way in his direction. I grab the money from his fingers, and lean down to face him.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “Are you an option, sweetheart?” Ugh, he’s disgusting. He laughs at his own question. I back up and cross my arms. I roll my eyes at his lame attempt.

  “No. Now either tell me what you want, or I’m leaving you here to drool.”

  “Whew…I like ’em feisty! Especially with a rack like yours.”

  “Get your ass out of here!” Carissa yells from behind me. She waves the guy off and stands in front of me.

  “I had it under control, Riss,” I pout that she doesn’t think I can handle it.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you did.” She smirks and hands a customer a beer. “You wanna stock?” It’s slow enough still, so I nod and head to the basement. I grab a couple cases of beer and head back up. I go back and forth five times before I finally have everything I need. Beer. Liquor. More beer.

  “Hey, Riss? Can ya help me?” I call out from the back freezer. I don’t hear her walk through or call back, so I yell again.

  Where the hell is she? I hear two men yelling, then I hear Carissa telling them to keep it down. I hear a bottle breaking, so I rush to my feet and run to the front of the bar.

  There are four guys in the middle of the bar. Two are yelling at each other, and the other two are holding them back.

  “You motha-fuckin’ asshole!” one yells. He’s clearly drunk, waving his fists by his chest preparing to fight.

  “You cock suckin’ fucker, what did you call me?” the other yells back. He’s a good five inches taller than the other one but has a beer gut. He’s holding an empty bottle of beer over the other guy’s head, ready to smack it down again.

  I don’t know what, but something drives up inside me as the two fire out curse words at one another. I push past Kenna and end up right in the middle of the brawl.

  I yank the beer bottle from gut boy’s hand and push the other one aside. Anger and rage build up inside me as I yell at them to knock it off.

  “Look, Princess, this is between us men. Now get out or put out!” the shorter one spits beer at me. His friend next to him laughs, and I’m beyond mad at this point. The word Princess strikes a nerve…Princess. I smash my hands hard against his chest, which is unexpectedly easy seeing that he isn’t solid at all.

  “Get out! All of you!” I scream back. I feel my body heat as they smirk at me. They obviously don’t take me seriously. “Carissa, call the cops. Now!” I demand as I look over my shoulder. She grabs her cell from her pocket, and puts it to her ear after she dials.

  “Oh no, you called the po-po on us,” the taller one mocks. Without thinking, my right hand meets his face across the cheek. He immediately stops laughing and lunges for me.

  “You little bitch!” I’m sandwiched between the two men, inhaling their awful beer and liquor breath.

  “Get away from me!” I squeal, pushing against them. They close in tighter not giving me any way to get out.

  I hear Carissa calling out my name as she tries to brush through. “Move, dammit!” she yells, pushing her body through the mass of drunks.

  Before she reaches me, the two men are pushed apart, and a beer bottle slams to the floor again. I can hardly believe the police are here already. Wait, not police.

  “Get off her, man!” he yells. It’s Eric’s voice, but not his southern, sweet tone. Rather he sounds hoarse and aggravated.

  “What the hell? We saw her first!” one of them yells again.

  “Touch her again, and I swear to God!” Eric threatens. They look at his biceps bulging out of his t-shirt and back away.

  “Be cool man,” beer gut guy protests with his hands up in surrender.

  “Are you all right?” Eric turns to me and asks. I try to catch my breath, but can’t look him in the eyes yet.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, ignoring his question.

  “I was grabbing a beer after work when I walked in on you gettin’ your ass kicked.” He laughs and nudges me with his elbow.

  “I wasn’t getting my…butt kicked. And I had it under control!” I defend, but his smirk tells me he doesn’t believe me.

  “Oh right. I saw how under control you had it, Velaney.” He rolls his eyes and huffs under his breath.

  “I don’t need you saving me, Eric. I’m a big girl.” I brush his arm and walk back behind the bar. I don’t know why I just acted the way I did. He did nothing wrong. In fact, he’s so right. So sweet…charming…sexy. I hate that I need saving. Or that I like him. Or that I like him saving me. But there’s no reason he needs to know that.

  I help a few more customers before I finally settle down. Carissa tells me to go sit in the back, but I convince her I’m fine and continue working. The bar settles down, and the four of us get back to work.

  “Doing okay?” Julia rounds the bar, wiping up spilled beer.

  “I’m fine. Seriously, guys. I’m not that little.” I give the biggest cheesy smile I can form and laugh as she mocks my grin. “Whatever. It was just a fight. No big deal,” I lie.

  “Your hero is still here,” Kenna smirks and nods her head to the corner part of the bar. Eric is sitting in a booth intently watching me. His lips are pressed in a firm line. He looks mad, but his eyes are soft. I can’t figure him out. He’s looking at me, watching my every move.

  “Ugh, what is he doing here?” I groan. I grab a bottle of beer and march over to his table. He watches me walk toward him and fights back a smile.

  “Here,” I mumble, setting it down in front of him. “It’s on the house.” I stand next to him and cross my arms. I don’t know whether to hug him, or slap him.

  He grabs it and puts the neck to his lips. The liquid runs down his throat, and I don’t know why, but it’s insanely sexy.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, not wanting to admit my bad behavior. I lower my head, and place my hand over his. “Thank you. Again.” I chuckle, hoping he accepts my pathetic apology.

  “No big deal.” He slams the rest of his beer and stands up. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He walks past me and out the door.

  What the fudge was that? Apparently, it is a big deal. I spend the rest of my night serving drunks as I think about him. I attempt to push his name out of my head, but Eric Eric Eric…craptastic.

  “Let’s rent a movie.” Carissa walks up behind me and wraps her arm around me. “I’m in the mood for something…erotic.” She giggles as I cringe at the way she rolls the word erotic. She knows I don’t like those movies, yet she insists on it every time.

  “What is it this time? Cruel Intensions 1, 2, or 3?
” I ask as we walk to our cars. She’s made me watch all three at least a dozen times.

  “Let’s make it interesting.” She pretends like she’s thinking deeply. “One. I could use some Ryan Phillippe in my life.” She smiles. We reach our cars and say our goodbyes, even though we’re heading back to the same apartment.

  Chapter Three

  “Sweet baby Jesus, this movie turns me on.” Carissa fans herself as she lusts over Ryan Phillippe. She’s wearing shorts and a sports bra that makes me envious of her natural petite body. I know I shouldn’t complain, but being an athlete my body is toned with solid calves.

  “I don’t get it,” I groan. “How can a man sleep with so many women? Disgusting.” I stick my tongue at her as she continues to drool.

  “When you look as smexy as he does, you can do whatever the hell you want!” she retorts playfully. She grabs another handful of popcorn and shoves it in her mouth.

  “Smexy?” I cross my hand over her lap and spoon a handful for myself.

  “Smart and sexy. And he is definitely that.”

  “What makes him smart?” I ask, shoving more popcorn in my mouth.

  “His glasses.” I glare at her and she bursts out laughing. “He was one of the hottest actors in the 90’s. I’d trade places with Reece Witherspoon any day just to grab a piece of that meat.”

  “Dear bejesus…you have sex on the brain 24/7.” I adjust my body as I get a cramp from sitting. “No wonder you’re so feisty.”

  “Hey, men like feisty! If you’d ever give a man a chance, maybe you wouldn’t be so…pleasure deprived.” She bumps my elbow and lowers her brows to me.

  I cough out a few pieces of popcorn. “My pleasure is none of your concern.”

  “We’re roommates, Lane. Trust me, it’s my business. Especially since you’re not getting any!” She throws a kernel at me as I scowl.

  “How did we get on the topic of my sex life?”

  “Because you need to get one.” She looks at me and says, “I love you, Lane. But I’m worried about you.”

  “Oh good gravy…here we go,” I sigh. She is always lecturing me about my undesired want to have random hook ups with men.

  We continue to banter until Sarah Michelle Gellar’s diary is photocopied and released to the entire student body. Ryan’s character dies and no matter how many times we watch it, Carissa still cries like a baby.

  “I’m tired,” I whine dragging my legs out from underneath me. Sirens scream through the open windows, pulling me from the couch. “That sounds close.”

  Carissa leans over the window and spots the fire trucks on the corner of our street. There’s a restaurant on the corner that looks to be in flames.

  “Holy shit! That looks bad! Let’s go down and watch,” Carissa exclaims as she searches for her shoes. I peek out the window and notice the street is filled with smoke and ash. I think of Eric, and I wonder if he’s there right now.

  I shut the window and search for some shoes. I grab my sweatshirt as I walk out the door with Carissa. The elevator lowers us to the first floor where other residents and neighbors are all standing. Smoke takes over the view outside, but Carissa grabs my hand and pulls me out the door anyway.

  “Oh my god!” she squeals. “Cover your mouth,” she orders as she pulls her shirt over her nose. I do the same and continue to walk behind her.

  There’s a line of police tape covering off part of the street. People are lined up behind it watching as firefighters enter the building. Apartment residents of the other buildings are being escorted out. Some are being treated for smoke inhalation, and others are standing nearby crying.

  Carissa closes in and wraps her arm around me. “I’m sure he’s okay.” I don’t ask who she’s talking about, because I already know. Eric has a dangerous job, and knowing he risks his life for a living is unsettling.

  We watch firefighters exit the building one at a time. They are all in full uniform, so I can’t tell if Eric is one of them or not. I’m not sure why I feel this rush of concern for him. My gut wrenches as I think about our last encounter. It was only a few hours ago, but I feel horrible for letting him leave like he did.

  I lift my head toward the smoke that has taken over the sky when a body collides with me from behind. His hand grazes my chest, and I immediately jab my elbow in his gut. Only it’s not a gut. It’s hard, solid, and stings my elbow. I move away to get a better look at my boob grabber. He’s leaned over clenching his stomach. He’s wearing a dark hoodie making it hard to see his face.

  “What the fuck?” Carissa shouts next to me as she notices what just happened. “Don’t grab her, you motha-fuckin’ perv!”

  I stand there speechless as his head finally rises high enough for me to see those emerald eyes. His frown tells me he’s in pain, and shocked I elbow punched him.

  “Eric?” I ask, leaning down to get a better look at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Holy crap, you have an arm for such a little thing.” He stands up and pats his stomach. He’s wobbly and can barely stand straight.

  “Are you drunk?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Explains why he isn’t in uniform at least.

  “I don’t get drunk. I get happily wasted.” He smiles a crooked line and leans an arm over my shoulders. “What are you pretty ladies doing down here? Trying to find another firefighter to save you?” He looks at me and winks.

  “Gross, no. I was worried about you,” I confess, and immediately regret saying it.

  “You were worried about me, sweetheart? Well, aren’t you a doll.” He smirks and squeezes my shoulder with his hand. I don’t like that he’s having this effect on me. It’s foreign, and doesn’t make any sense to me. However, it’s there. The tingles that rise between my thighs, the butterflies in my stomach—as Carissa calls them, and the ever-noticeable heart thumping.

  “Baby!” a woman’s voice squeals behind us. “Baby, what are you doing out here?” I turn to see a blonde haired, long-legged woman wearing only a long t-shirt and sandals.

  Eric spins and smiles widely. “Nadia, baby!” he slurs. Ugh, I hate drunk people.

  “Come back to bed. It’s cold without you,” she whines, pressing her body against his. His hands go right to her bottom and squeezes. I watch as the two make out right in front of us and I start seeing red. I’m instantly jealous, and even angrier that I’m jealous.

  “Who’s your skank?” Carissa asks from behind me, crossing her arms.

  “Girls, this is Nadia. Baby, this is…” he stumbles. “Oh shit, sweetheart, what’s your name again?” He looks at me and asks. Are you frigging kidding me? Why is he acting like such a jack-hole?

  “Funny.” I roll my eyes, mostly to keep the tears in as I walk back to the apartment. If I swore at all, this would be the moment where swear words from A-Z would be screamed.

  Carissa catches up to me and holds my hand. We walk into the elevator and silently back into our apartment. She doesn’t say anything, but she looks at me intently.

  She swallows and asks, “Are you okay?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, knowing exactly why. I just didn’t know she knew how I felt. Perhaps it was obvious…except to him.

  “Honey, you can’t pretend with me. I see sex written all over your hungry pussy. You have a thing for him. In fact, I think you have it bad. So bad, in fact, you don’t even want to admit it.” She’s stern, looking me dead in the eyes.

  “Ugh, fine!” I throw my hands in the air. “Why do I have to like him, Riss? He’s a firefighter—a hot firefighter. Girls are probably all over him all the time. Firefighter—sexy…sweet…charming…and he has a frigging Texas accent! I mean, c’mon! I have no chance,” I ramble, pacing back and forth in the living room. She’s watching me, smirking as if she knows something I don’t.

  “Lane, you need to calm the fuck down. That boy down there, the one with the skank, has the fucking hot’s for your ass. Only you’re too blind to see it. That skank means nothing, anyway. I can tell.” Sh
e smiles as if she’s the queen of intuition.

  “Oh, and how can you tell?” I ask, switching directions. “You know what, never mind, I don’t want to know how you would know something like that.”

  “I can read people Lane, a-mazingly well.”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” I walk into my room and shut the door behind me. I crawl under my sheets, squeezing my eyes shut.

  * * *

  The sun shines through my window, waking me up. I feel energized and decide to go for a run. I peek my head out the window and see that the street is still blocked off. The smoke has subsided, but there’s ash everywhere.

  As my feet hit the pavement, the cool air hits my face. My hair is pulled up, and swinging back and forth as my pace gets faster. I take a different route today, hoping the change of scenery puts me in a better mood.

  I run to clear my head. It opens my mind. I let out all my frustration, rage, and regrets. I run until I can’t run anymore. I soon spot the apartment a block away and sprint the rest of the way. My arms are swinging, my legs thumping on the ground, and sweat is dripping in my eyes. Almost there…

  I round the corner just before my building and smack right into something—or someone—hard. Shizzwad that hurts! I immediately fall to my butt, and before I can put my hands out to support myself, my head falls back and smacks the pavement.

  I pull my hands to my head as I wince at the abrupt pain. The sun is no longer shining over me as I hear a man’s voice. “Oh god, are you okay, Velaney?” His voice is familiar, and I immediately know who it is. Why does this keep happening to me?

  He kneels down and tells me to make slow movements. I nod in an effort to let him know I hear him.

  “You might have a concussion. You need to be careful.” He grabs my hands and helps me to my feet. Everything is spinning. My eyes are only half open, and my head is throbbing. “I’m so sorry. I was bending down to tie my shoe and the second I stood up you were right there.” He sounds sincere, worried even.

  I open my eyes completely and look at his face. He has a strong face—square jawline, high cheekbones, and a brawny nose. His emerald eyes are diamond shaped with dark eyelashes. His forehead is wrinkle free, and his lips are full and swollen.