Kimberly’s body went rigid as she felt his hand grab at her crotch. He was pulling at her panties and suddenly he ripped them apart, the fabric burning against her skin.
Kimberly did the only thing she could do. She went back into that world, the world that there seemed to be no escaping from. It was only in that world that she would be able to do this and not feel anything. She channeled her mind and in a second, she was gone. She would return some time after it was over.
11
Kimberly had still not yet found herself as she sat on the edge of the bed, putting her clothes back on. That fifteen-year-old girl that learned to channel the world out was still a part of her, seeming to be so now more than ever.
“I gotta tell you, Paige.” David stuck his head out the bathroom door. “I was a little disappointed. I mean, you’re getting a little long in the tooth, but I know you have better stuff than that. You were stiff as a board.”
Kimberly stood up slowly, feeling light-headed. She had done what she had to do.
“You had to put it on Prince Charming,” David continued as he made his way to the closet. “Otherwise, there is no way he’d settle for you.”
“This is over, David.” She reached for her purse.
“Well, I don’t know about that.” David was rummaging through the closet.
Kimberly turned to face him, certain she was hearing things. “This was the deal. You get nothing more.”
“You know those pictures?” he asked. “I lied. The ones I sent you were the only ones I had. I didn’t even have negatives.”
Kimberly remembered the pictures were on the floor in the next room. She would get them and burn them. “So you’ve got nothing to corroborate you even knew me.”
“No.” David turned around, still dressed only in cheap silk shorts. “There is no way for me to prove that I knew you ten years ago. But I have something better than that.”
From behind his back, David pulled out a tiny object and held it up for Kimberly to see.
“What is that?” she asked, taking a step closer.
“It’s a video card.” David laughed as her face went stark white. “The only better thing than proving I knew you ten years ago is proving I know you now, in a biblical sort of way. Yeah, I taped us.”
“You son of a bitch!” Kimberly lunged at David.
He pushed her away, but not before she left a deep scratch on his chest.
“Look what you did.” David looked down at his bleeding chest. “Is that any way to treat your daddy?”
“Give it to me,” she demanded. If he had taped them just then, this was the only copy. All she had to do was get it. “Give it to me or I’ll kill you.”
“We’ve been through that before, Paige. You can’t do it. You’re too chickenshit.”
Kimberly could barely breathe. She was shaking all over. “I have nothing more to give you!”
“I agree.” David casually walked to the bed and sat down. “But I don’t want anything from you anymore.”
“What do you want?”
“You’re not the reason I lost the last seven years of my life.” David leaned back on the bed. “Well, you are the cause, but not the reason. Now I get back at Michael Chase.”
“You can’t!” Kimberly rushed to the bed, pleading. “You can’t do it. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“When the world sees a tape of his wife in bed with another man spread all over the Internet, he’ll be humiliated beyond words.” David sneered. “No matter what happens to me, once it gets on the World Wide Web, all the money and power in the world can’t stop it. He’ll know then who the real man is.”
“You’re willing to risk your life just to embarrass him?”
David’s smile faded. “If you could catch a glimpse of my seven years in that prison, you wouldn’t bother to ask me that.”
He moved the video card between the fingers of his left hand. “You’ll have a lot of explaining to do to the in-laws. And what are your little boys’ school friends going to say when—”
Kimberly snapped. The mention of her sons sent her into a rage she didn’t even know she was capable of. When she jumped on David, he seemed surprised enough to yell out in fear. He tried to push her away, but her will was stronger than his might. She grabbed his head and pounded it against the headboard. She was screaming something, but she couldn’t comprehend her own words. She could only feel her anger.
David finally pushed her away and onto the floor, but just as he got off the bed, Kimberly was up again and this time with a kick to his groin. As he doubled over, she looked around. All she could find was the nightstand lamp. She grabbed it and pulled until the extension cord ripped out of the socket. He was still holding himself with one hand, trying to straighten up.
“Paige!” David held his hand up to stop her.
Kimberly saw real fear in his eyes, something she had never seen before. He suddenly looked like a pitiful excuse for nothing, what he really was. She felt no intimidation, no misplaced paternal longing. She felt no fear.
“My name is Kimberly,” she said just before she flattened the lamp on his head.
The lamp broke into several pieces. David fell back, the front of his head gushing blood. What happened in a second seemed like a minute or more to Kimberly as she watched him hit the back of his head against the bedpost, knocking himself forward again. He fell facedown onto the plush cream carpet.
Kimberly was frozen in place as she looked down at him. Blood was streaming out like a water fountain so fast that it seemed fake. Slowly, she reached down and placed two fingers against his neck. She could hear her heartbeat as loud as a jet engine, but felt nothing against her fingers.
She gasped, pulling her hands away. She pushed at his back once, then twice. Grabbing his right hand, she checked for a pulse at his wrist. Nothing.
Looking at his lifeless body, Kimberly stood up and took a deep breath. She knew then that she had wanted to kill him since that first night he’d taken her to the motel more than ten years ago. She thought she should feel panicked but she didn’t. She was calmer than she could remember being in a long, long time.
It was over.
Turning to the bed, she saw the video card nestled against the pillow as if it had been put there just waiting for her. She reached for it, but that was when she saw the blood on her hand and arm. David’s blood.
Kimberly rushed to the bathroom and was relieved to see the blood hadn’t gotten on her clothes. She reached for a towel and quickly wiped her arm and hand down. She tossed the towel in the hamper and returned to the sink. Running the water until it was freezing, she knelt down and splashed it on her face. It felt . . .
Thump.
Kimberly’s head shot up, her eyes as wide as saucers. She turned toward the half closed bathroom door. Was it all in her mind or had she heard . . .
Slam!
Kimberly freaked at the sound of a door slamming. That wasn’t in her mind at all.
She searched the bathroom and saw nothing but a glass tissue holder. She grabbed it and with weak legs stumbled out of the bathroom. She would just have to kill him again.
The first thing Kimberly did was go around the bed and look at the floor. David was still there, lying lifeless in a pool of blood. Confused, she looked around the room and what she saw made her scream. No, it was more like what she didn’t see.
The video card wasn’t on the pillow. It wasn’t anywhere! Kimberly tossed the tissue holder to the floor and rushed for the door. She got outside just in time to look down the hallway and see the girl, wearing that same pink shirt she had on the first day Kimberly saw her in the café, step into the elevator.
Kimberly ran toward the elevator as the girl pressed a button over and over again. The doors closed just as she reached them. Kimberly pressed the Open button again and again, but it only lit up. Nothing happened.
The girl was gone.
As soon as she reached the front door to Lyndon’s mansion, Leigh
noticed it was already open and that was odd to her. Stay positive, she said to herself. Lyndon answered the call box when she drove up to the gates and his voice sounded a little weird to Leigh. It was high pitched and he was laughing; no, almost giggling. She wanted to stop being a doctor all the time, but she couldn’t help it. In the few seconds it took her to drive from the gate up to the house, her stomach wound tighter and tighter.
As she walked inside, she told herself that she was being paranoid because of what her parents said. She really let them get to her too easily. Wanting to please them both, above all else, had led her down the wrong path so many times, yet she couldn’t stop.
So maybe that was it. Her subconscious was trying to make Lyndon into everything she didn’t want him to be, so she could say she stopped seeing him for reasons of her own and not just to please her parents.
“Lyndon?” Passing through the foyer, Leigh stopped for a second. She didn’t hear a response, but heard noises coming from behind the winding staircase, in the media room.
When she entered the room, designed to look just like a movie theater right down to the cup holders on the side of each lush, velvet chair, Lyndon was lain out in the front row of seats with all the armrests pushed up. He was watching one of his movies, an action film. Or rather it was on, but he didn’t appear to be paying attention to it. The room held the pungent odor of marijuana and beer.
“Lyndon.” Her tone was harsher this time. This wasn’t at all what she wanted to see.
Lyndon turned and tried to lift himself up, but he couldn’t control his own body and fell to the floor. He was still laughing when Leigh walked around to the front of the seats. As he stumbled to his feet, she felt her heart fall into her stomach.
“So I guess we aren’t going out tonight,” she said.
His eyes were bloodshot, what little she could see of them considering they were half closed.
“Yeah, yeah . . .” When he reached her, he leaned in for a kiss, but she pulled away.
“Not a chance,” she said. “I’m not taking you anywhere near that art gallery like this.”
Lyndon rolled his eyes. “Come on, Leigh. Don’t be so uptight. I’ll just go wash up a little bit and we can go. I’m looking forward to it.”
She doubted that was true. The look on his face had been anything but excitement when she suggested they go to an African art exhibit instead of their usual dinner and a party. But if they were going to be serious, he had to learn about her world.
“You’re already going to stand out, Lyndon. I don’t want—”
“Because I’m white?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, already annoyed with him. “Because you’re Lyndon Prior. And these people know who I am. Those two things combined mean we’re already guaranteed to make the press. I can’t have you—”
“You can’t have me what?” Lyndon seemed to try to appear angry, but didn’t have the wits to pull it off. “Embarrass you?”
“Embarrass yourself. And how do you think you can convince your friends to get help if this is how you behave?”
“It’s just a little weed,” Lyndon claimed. “You said yourself you’ve smoked it from time to—”
“You’re a mess, Lyndon.” She looked around the room, counting the bottles and cans she saw. “There has to be . . . you’ve been drinking all day?”
“No.” He held up a pointed finger as if he was going to say something important, but apparently forgot it and lowered the finger. “Look, I’m going to clean up real quick and I’ll be fine.”
“Lyndon,” she called after him, but he was already running out of the room and headed for the stairs.
“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.” She repeated the words in a whisper to herself. So he got drunk and smoked a little weed. What guy didn’t do that? Well, the kind of guy she wanted didn’t do that, but most guys did. That didn’t make him a bad person and it certainly didn’t make him an addict.
But something was wrong. Leigh counted at least ten bottles of beer and even more cans. There were also two glasses half filled with something that looked like straight liquor. If Lyndon had been drinking all this, he would’ve passed out by now. There must have been . . .
“Hello, Doctor.”
Leigh jumped with a start as she turned around to face Nick only a foot away from her. “Nick . . . where did you come from?”
“I was in the bathroom,” he answered in a slur.
He looked worse off than Lyndon, and Leigh felt a cold chill run down her spine at the way his eyes set on her. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I guess not.” He reached out as if he wanted to touch her hair, his fingers coming only inches from her face before she stepped back. “What’s wrong? I just wanted to touch your pretty curly hair.”
“No, thanks.” Leigh tried to step around him, but Nick moved to block her way. Her female intuition told her to run, but her ladylike upbringing told her to stay where she was and not be rude. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just giving you a compliment.” His tone held a hint of anger. “I like your hair. It’s pretty and . . . it’s not a weave, right? I know black girls like to wear those weaves.”
“Excuse me?” Leigh looked him up and down. “What would you know about black girls? No, don’t answer that. Just get out of my face.”
This time he not only blocked her, but he grabbed both her arms. “In my experience—”
“Let me go.” Leigh struggled against him, fear spreading through her.
“In my experience,” he repeated, jerking her once very hard. “Black rich bitches are even more stuck-up than white rich bitches.”
“Get off me!” Leigh was trying to push away with all her might now, but the more she tried, the tighter his grip seemed to get.
“And you’re the ones who should be the most appreciative.” He slipped his foot against her legs, tripping her up.
Leigh felt her legs go out from under her and she fell against him. His hand went to the base of her head as he pulled her face to his. He was trying to kiss her and Leigh felt panic take over. She was pushing harder and harder while still trying to stand up straight.
“Stop it!” She turned her face to the left to avoid his mouth. “Lyndon!”
“No need to include him.” Nick’s hand groped her butt. “He’s already had his taste. It’s my turn.”
She kept screaming no as she pushed away. His smell was making her sick and she felt as if she was losing control at any minute.
“Stop fighting,” a frustrated Nick mumbled.
That was when it hit her. She wasn’t fighting. She was trying to get away and that was the wrong move. Everything she’d learned about self-defense told her she needed to fight first and then break free.
Nick seemed stunned by her sudden change in attack. Instead of pulling away, she was leaning into him, hitting him with her hands, her legs, and even butting his head with her own. He stumbled back, loosening his grip on her to just one arm. Leigh turned inward and kicked as high as she could. She hit his thigh with the sharp point of her Deneuve pumps.
She was finally free and was ready to run when Lyndon suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“I was calling you!”
“I didn’t hear . . .” He looked at Nick on the floor. “Was he . . . What was he doing?”
“He was trying to rape me!” Leigh screamed.
“She’s lying!” Nick used the wall to stand up. “She pretended like she wanted to kiss me and then when I—”
Nick was completely taken off guard when Lyndon punched him flat in the face, sending him spinning into the row of seats, where he fell to the floor unconscious.
Leigh ran to Lyndon and he wrapped his arms around her. She felt like crying, but she also felt like screaming out loud. She pushed away from him in anger. “Where were you?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought it was the film. I didn’t realize you were . . . I came as soon as I could.”
Leigh rushed
over to her purse, which had fallen to the floor in the struggle. She grabbed her phone and flipped it open. She only pressed 9 before Lyndon ripped the phone out of her hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m calling the police.” She reached for the phone, but Lyndon held it away. “Lyndon, I have to—”
“You can’t do that.” He immediately began pacing in front of her. “Just wait a second. I have to call James first.”
“Your agent?” Leigh couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why would you . . . Give me the phone, Lyndon.”
“Do you know what this could do to me?”
“To you? He didn’t try to rape you, Lyndon.”
“You don’t know that was what he was going to do,” Lyndon said. “Nick is a jerk. He’s always kissing women and playing games. He’s never raped anyone.”
“That you know of.”
“Okay, look.” Lyndon ran his fingers through his hair and grumbled. “Having an attempted rape happen in my home, by one of my friends, would be one hundred times worse than sending a friend to rehab. Jesus, Leigh. It could ruin me.”
Leigh was speechless. She was looking at Lyndon and seeing something she had never seen before, and it hurt her more than she could even explain to herself. “You want me to let him get away with—”
“No,” he proclaimed. “I just think we should talk to James first. He’ll know what to do.”
“Give me my phone,” Leigh ordered.
“Just wait, and—”
“Give me my phone now or I will find the nearest phone I can and call every news station in L.A.”
Lyndon appeared shocked by Leigh’s threat. She sensed he doubted her, but she held his eyes with her own until his doubt was gone. He offered her the phone and she snatched it back. She heard him call her name once as she ran out of the house, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t look back.
Once she was safe in her car, Leigh locked the doors. She put the key in the ignition, but she couldn’t turn it. Suddenly, her hands were shaking. Then her arms, her legs, and finally her entire body. She slammed her fist against the dashboard a few times before gripping the steering wheel and leaning forward as her face streamed with tears.
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