Flawed Beauty

by Potter, LR

  Glancing away from the photo, Tate thought momentarily of the sisters she’d not thought about in years. Her three older sisters had all disappeared from her life, for what, at the time, had seemed mysterious reasons. Now, Tate knew they’d probably suffered the fate intended for her. She looked back down at the clipping and read the bold heading: Local Couple Involved in Child Sex Trade. Tate ran her fingertip over the words. She didn’t have to read the story any further; she already knew the story by heart.

  She set that clipping aside and pulled another out. This particular one wasn’t folded, but had been cut out of a small section of the paper – it was all the notoriety her mother received from being shot to death after killing the police officer. Another clipping outlined her father’s trial and how the people of the state were outraged he hadn’t been sentenced to death, as the death penalty had been abolished in Illinois just the year before. If the same thing happened today, he would be sitting on death-row right now.

  Scattered on the table amongst the clippings were a couple dirty hair bows and a small bracelet which had turned green over time. Tate picked up the bracelet and read the word stamped on the small heart: Angel. She scoffed at the notion. Her life had been hell for as long as she could remember. They’d lived in an old rented house in the middle of nowhere. The yard had been composed mostly of dirt with a few grassy patches. Her mother had not been much of a housekeeper and dishes were continuously piled up high in the sink.

  Her parents were big drinkers and pack-a-day smokers and their house reeked of vomit and cigarettes. Once Tate was old enough to understand the squalor of their existence, she never invited any friends over – she was too embarrassed. She shuddered as she remembered the night her father had ran his hands over her exposed body. Nick was right; she was nothing but white trash.

  No… Jace would never understand any of these things. She didn’t want Jace to have to understand it, or be touched by it in any way. She wanted him to remember her time with him as it had been – beautiful, untainted, and pure – the time before Nick, anyway. She wanted him to remember Tate Morgan, the full-time college student who worked in a nightclub and gym to pay her way; not Patanga Moon, the dirty, poor, white trash nothing whose own parents had found her worthless. The girl who’d slept her way through high school.

  She cringed at how her supposed betrayal had hurt him; just as he’d been hurt by Brittany. But she’d rather him think of her as a cheating tramp, than the sordid trash from the other side of the tracks she actually was. She remembered a quote she’d read years before by Dorothy Dix: Confession is always a weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence. She’d not defend herself against what Jace thought he saw. That truly was the least painful way.

  §§§

  Sometimes in life, the most horrific nightmares happen when you’re not sleeping. The problem with them is… you can’t wake up. Tate felt Jace’s presence in the bar long before she ever laid eyes on him. His special brand of synergy caused the air to crackle; it seemed to sizzle along all her nerve endings. She was standing at the bar, waiting as Thor filled her tray with drinks, when Jace walked in through the back door. He wore distressed jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. On his arm was a sultry brunette with an hourglass figure showcased in a short skirt and red cowboy boots. Her stomach clenched painfully and her body tensed in pure-out defense of actually seeing him – but to actually see him with someone else was almost her undoing.

  He’d never returned her call and she was thankful because she didn’t have any answers for him. She glanced up when the tension got too great. Their eyes met briefly – his impenetrable cold stare piercing her heart. She swallowed repeatedly at the huge knot lodged in her throat and looked away quickly. She now knew what a crane must feel like when trying to swallow a fish down its long, narrow throat.

  She blinked rapidly and took several long breaths to try to ease the discomfort in her chest. She looked up to find Thor giving her a speculative look with raised eyebrows. She just gave a small shake of her head, begging him silently not to comment or ask – she couldn’t endure it.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “Thanks, Thor.”

  “Anytime, doll,” he murmured.

  Tate carefully lifted her tray in her uninjured hand and balanced it as best she could. She kept her back to the band, not having the fortitude to chance seeing Jace’s stony gaze. She plastered a fake smile on her face and continued on to her tables. She decided to concentrate on her customers and keep the peripheral things where they should be… just beyond her thoughts. She could do this. She’d been through much worse things than this in her life and she’d survived… at least that was the speech she gave herself.

  Tate was feeling pretty proud of herself for maintaining in the face of such a daunting task as being in the same room as Jace. And she had maintained, until the lights dimmed and he stepped up to the microphone to sing a song originally sang by Jesse McCartney called Beautiful Soul. She tried to tune him out of her head and not listen to the words or his soulful voice, but he pulled her into him as surely as if he’d lassoed her.

  Partially hidden behind a wooden support beam, she leaned her shoulder against it as she turned woeful eyes to the stage when he sang, You’re the one I wanna chase, you’re the one I wanna hold. I won’t let another minute go to waste, I want you and your beautiful soul. Tears stung her eyes – beautiful soul indeed. She hoped Jace could find his beautiful soul. Despair made her shoulders sag as if a hundred pounds of bricks had been placed on top of them. He would move on and find someone more suitable for him. But she’d never find anyone she’d want, need, or love more than him.

  As his song came to the last chorus, even through the darkened room, his eyes seemed to seek hers out as he finished: I won’t let another minute go to waste, I want you and your beautiful soul. As the musicians continued to play out the song, Jace threw back one of the shots continuously lined up for him, left the stage, and scooped up the dark-haired girl with the impossibly short skirt and red cowboy boots, spun her lightly into his arms before lowering his head to hers, kissing her long and hard.

  The breath left Tate’s body at his intentionally cruel display. He didn’t have to prove to her he could have anyone he wanted, or that she, Tate, was of little consequence to him. She already knew that – she had always known it. Breathing rapidly, she turned away, her eyes bright with unshed tears. It was indeed over; and one day she’d be happy about it… but not today.

  The dull throb just behind her eyes kept in perfect beat to the throb of her hand. Tate moved to the bar.

  “Hey, Thor, can I get a glass of water?”

  “Sure. You okay? That was quite an impressive display there.”

  Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she replied, “I… we decided to see other people,” she murmured.

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out two more ibuprofen for her hand. She’d never get through her shift without some relief for the pain. She tried to squeeze it into a fist but it was so badly swollen she could barely get her fingers to curl. This wasn’t good. She’d have to soak it tonight after her shift. Just a few more hours and she’d be free. She took the water Thor gave her and tossed back the tablets.

  “Thanks. I need two pitchers and eight glasses,” she told Thor.

  “Listen, why don’t you break the order in half and give your hand a rest?”

  “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” she answered as she raised a hand to her flushed face.

  As much as she tried not to continually glance his way, Tate found it hard to keep her eyes off of Jace and the dark-haired girl. They’d danced several dances together and shared a drink. She watched as he playfully tucked her hair behind her ears. Jace deserved a nice, normal girl, from a nice, normal family.

  It was just too painful after that. Heartsick, she heaved a huge sigh of relief when Last Call was finally given. Reggie and Sabrina, the other two waitresses, volun
teered to finish the cleanup once everyone was gone.

  Turning to Thor once more, she reached into her apron and pulled out an envelope with Jace’s name scrawled across it.

  “Hey, Thor. Can you give this to Jace for me?”

  “Anything for you,” he said with a grin.

  “Thanks.”

  She glanced once more in Jace’s direction before heading out. Jace and the girl with the short skirt and cowboy boots were standing at the back of the club, close to the band dais. She had her back against the wall and Jace had his hands flat against the wall, leaning into her. Tate turned away the instant before his lips met hers. With a heavy heart, Tate turned and left the bar.

  Blearily, Tate closed the apartment door behind her and went immediately to the counter where she’d set the painkillers Jace had prescribed for her. She grabbed a glass of water and downed two of the tablets. She tried to roll the latex glove she’d worn off her hand, but the severe swelling required her to cut it off. The skin surrounding the cut was oozing some kind of yellow fluid and there appeared to be red lines beginning to run up her arm. If it wasn’t better by tomorrow, she’d have to go the emergency room. She vaguely remembered Jace telling her she needed to eat with the pain pills, but she just wasn’t hungry.

  More tired than she could ever remember, and with her head throbbing, she took a quick shower, and didn’t even bother with pajamas before slipping in between the cool sheets of her bed. Burying her face into her pillow, she struggled not to envision Jace with a pair of red cowboys boots wrapped around his waist as he made love to the dark-haired beauty. Just a few days before… it’d been her.

  Round and round, spinning faster and faster.

  The glowing, blonde angel twirling her smiled and said, “You are such a beautiful angel.”

  She giggled, “No, you’re the angel.”

  The beautiful angel with the ring of flowers in her hair, smiled again. “Promise you’ll stay right with me.”

  “I promise.”

  It felt as if she’d just closed her eyes when she became aware of a pounding at her apartment door and someone shouting her name.

  Struggling to open her eyes, made heavy by the painkillers, she whispered, “Jace?”

  She eased up and the room swayed crazily, causing her stomach to roil. Sweat popped out on her face and she was suddenly freezing. She jumped when she heard the pounding again. Struggling to a sitting position, from the foot of the bed, she grabbed the blue throw with the familiar orange gator on it – school colors – and slowly wrapped it around her shoulders. She heard him shout her name again.

  Under her breath, she murmured, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  She swayed when she rose to her feet and shuffled out into the hall. The movement made her lightheaded, and she was forced to lean her shoulder against the wall to help her remain upright.

  “Damn it, Tate, I want to see you right now!” Jace shouted from the door.

  Easing forward once again, she took a deep breath to settle her stomach. She’d made it to the entrance of the kitchen when Jace slammed open the door and walked in. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, Tate took in his face, beautiful still, even though it was flushed with anger.

  He shoved the envelope she’d had Thor give him in her face.

  “What is this? I don’t need your damn money. It was a gift, Tate. Get over it!” he shouted.

  Tate slowly licked her lips, struggling to focus on him and his words, but the effort was becoming too hard. She was just so tired.

  “Jace… I.. I..”

  He cut her off. “What? Did the guy you’re screwing give you the money? I don’t want his money,” he spat.

  “No, I… I…” she swayed once more, and afraid she’d fall, she leaned heavily against the doorjamb, mashing her swollen, injured hand between her body and the wooden frame. She gasped at the pain and jumped back, causing her to stumble uncertainly on her feet.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded.

  Her head, fuzzy from the pain medication, Tate just couldn’t cope with Jace right now. Her hand throbbed and she was freezing. She’d have to deal with him later. Without another word, she slowly turned back towards the hall leading to her bedroom.

  “Where the hell are you going? We’re not done here,” he slung at her.

  When she kept going, he grabbed her shoulders, and spun her around with such force, she stumbled into his body. His arms went around her automatically to steady her. She melted into him, happy to be able to feel him… smell his familiar scent once more.

  He tensed against her body. “God, Tate, you’re burning up.”

  She closed her eyes when she felt his cool lips against her scorching forehead. He reached down and picked up her badly swollen hand and turned it palm side up. With her eyes closed, she heard his sharp intake of air.

  “Tate, I need you to get dressed, okay?”

  She blinked up uncomprehendingly. “What?” she asked.

  “You’re burning up. I need you to get dressed.”

  He shuffled her back into her bedroom and began to paw through her drawers before pulling out sweats and a T-shirt. He helped her dress quickly. Once her T-shirt went over her head, he wrapped her back in the blanket, picked her up, and hurried her out to his car. With her eyes opened in tiny little slits, she watched him as he drove quickly through the streets of Gainesville.

  “Are we going home?” she whispered hopefully.

  He turned grim eyes to hers. “Not yet. We need to make a quick stop at the hospital first.”

  “Okay. Can I have ice cream?” she murmured irrationally before closing her eyes.

  Sean Devlin was on duty when they arrived. “What’s going on?” he asked when he saw Jace carrying Tate into an exam room.

  “I think she might be septic. Look at the lines running up her right forearm,” Jace explained.

  Sean lifted her arm and whistled. “I’ll order some antibiotics right away and a blood test.”

  §§§

  “I want my mommy. I want my daddy,” she wailed.

  “They’ll be here soon, now eat the nice ice cream I bought you,” the dark-haired stranger said.

  “Then you’ll take me to my mommy and daddy?” she asked hopefully.

  The stranger gave her a smile. “I have an idea. What do you think about going on an adventure with me?”

  “What kind of adventure?”

  “I hear in the next town lives a real, live princess. Would you like to see her?”

  “Can my mommy and daddy come?”

  “They look a little busy to me. How about we go first, then they can meet us there?”

  Slowly the little girl dressed like a pixie nodded her head. “Okay, deal.”

  The stranger put his hand out, and excited, the pixie placed hers in it.

  “We wouldn’t want you getting lost, would we?” he grinned.

  Tate squinted her eyes against the brightness of the really white room. Was this where the princess lived? No wait, that was her dream. She’d been dreaming that same dream for as long as she could remember. Sometimes in her dream, she ran away from the stranger, but usually she put her hand in his. How strange. She used to ask her numerous therapists what it meant and they usually said it was because she didn’t feel safe. Well, no duh.

  She tilted her aching head and looked around. She didn’t recognize the room, but when she looked down, she saw she was lying in a hospital bed. Then images of the night before began to flit across her memory. Jace’s cold stare; Jace dancing with the girl in the red boots; Jace leaned into the girl; Jace at her house; Jace taking her home? No, he’d said we’d needed to stop by the hospital first. She wondered what happened. She looked down at the tubes running up into the veins in her arms.

  Pain lanced her heart when she thought about Jace. She wondered briefly if she tore the tubes out if she would die. What did it matter, really? She’d been trying to battle her way through life for so long, and she was
really tired. It seemed she took one step forward and two steps back into her squalid existence every day. She’d heard that expression from one of her shrinks, ‘squalid existence.’ Not understanding the word, she’d looked it up when she got home: squalid – marked by filthiness and degradation from neglect or poverty; morally debased. Yep, that was her – marked by filth and morally debased. Who was she to try and smear that filth into Jace’s life? He didn’t deserve it any more than she had.

  She lifted her eyes when her door was pushed open. Sean Devlin walked in, writing something on a clipboard. He glanced up and smiled.

  “Well, look who’s finally awake,” he said cheerfully.

  “What’s wrong with me? Why am I here?”

  “Septicemia, or sepsis.”

  At her blank stare, he smiled and said, “Blood poisoning from the cut on your hand. It got infected, and left untreated, it causes blood poisoning. You were lucky Jace caught it. You could have died.”

  “Yeah, lucky. That’s me,” she muttered.

  “I don’t know how Jace let it get so bad before he brought you in,” Sean said disapprovingly.

  It was obvious Sean didn’t know she and Jace were no longer.

  Quietly, she said, “He’s been at the hospital a lot and I haven’t seen him. I didn’t realize it was that bad. How long do I have to stay here?”

  Dr. Sean Devlin checked his watch. “As soon as you have your next round of antibiotics, I think you’ll be good to go. You will need bed-rest for a couple days. But you should make a full recovery.”