by Zahra Girard
Her betrayal still stings, the wounds are still fresh, but I can’t get over the look on her face when Pierce and Victoria confronted me. Pain, regret, fear, it wasn’t the look of a con artist; I don’t know what it meant, but I know I want to find out the truth.
I owe her that much.
It was the one thing we insisted on throughout this whole misadventure.
I stand. Every eye in the room turns to me.
“Sir, did you have something to add about our Australian mining project?” some paunchy man in a suit asks.
There’s some chart on an easel behind him.
I wave my hand dismissively and head for the door. “Fuck it.”
He blinks and looks from me to he chart. “Fuck Australia?”
“No. Australia’s great. What I mean is: fuck you. And fuck this.”
I slam the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Melody
The Rook’s Roost is filled with energy and packed with vibrant visitors. Literally. There’s a group of drag queens in town, road-tripping down to some convention in Hollywood. They’re dominating an entire corner of the bar, chattering and making the place hum with energy.
“The usual?” Jim asks, seeing me sit down.
I nod, and watch the drag queens while he mixes my drink. One of them is at the head of their table, holding a black-and-white photo of an old Hollywood actress and making a toast to the picture.
It feels good to be back in a place that’s familiar, and so far, no one’s looking at me like I’m the woman who sold herself and spent the last month lying my ass off to everyone who’s anyone on the West Coast.
What did I let myself get into?
And where do I go from here?
I look around, expecting to see judgment, but everyone’s wrapped up in their won lives. Best of all, I don’t see him, even though I know he’s out there, trying to find me.
“Jim, has there been anyone asking about me while I was gone? Or even lately?” I say as he sets my drink down in front of me. I take a sip. It’s good — about ninety-nine percent rum.
He shrugs, casually wiping down the bar. “Some suits. They asked a lot of questions about you, and they got a lot of variations of ‘fuck off’ from me. Alanna gave them the once over, too. I think their balls might still be in her purse.”
I smile a little. It’s good to know I have people behind me. “Thanks, Jim.”
“Don’t mention it. Your business is your own,” he says, giving me a look that says that, even if he’s not going to voice it out loud or spread rumors about it, he knows what I was up to and doesn’t agree with it. “But you should know that Jan — she runs the Hideaway Hotel — was in here earlier and she had some guy check in a couple days ago who was asking about you. I imagine he won’t be the last, either.”
I frown. “Did she get a name?”
Jim shrugs. “No. And you should know, some of the news about you is going to be hitting the local paper, soon. I’ll always be behind you, but I imagine you’ll hear your share of gossip.”
I take my drink and find a booth for myself.
It’s not long before Alice and Alanna arrive. They order and sit down with me.
“How are you holding up, darling?” Alanna says to me, concern evident on her face.
I cast my eyes toward the ceiling. “Is there a word for confused, angry, heartbroken, and dreading the future?”
“Most people just say ‘fine’,” Alice says, putting her hand on mine.
“Yeah, then I’m fine,” I answer, only semi-sarcastic. “Hurt, angry, but fine.”
“Let me order you another round,” Alanna says, already waving to the bar.
I’m not even a third into my mojito, but I’m not going to object.
“So, seriously, what really happened?” Alice says.
“Yeah, why would you leave a man like that? I heard all about your dinner at Gordon’s, and about the two of you in Malibu,” Alanna asks. “It sounded like the two of you were having a wonderful time.”
I stare into my drink for a moment, muddling the lime leaves with my straw. “Nothing. It was fake. It was all lies, all something we invented. Until it wasn’t. And then I ruined it.”
“You ruined it? You, and not the man who’s slept his way around the world and invented at least three different sex acts?” Alanna says.
“Seriously, three? How?” I ask. I’m not surprised. Even now, I feel more than a twinge of heat between my legs just thinking about Julian. He had an incredible tongue, among other things.
Alanna nods. “That I know of. Two of them are pretty innovative, actually. The other is really impractical and takes an excessive amount of candles, lube, and a stepladder.”
“How do you even know this shit?” Alice says.
“I pay attention to the important news and I’m not afraid to experiment. Word gets around in certain circles. Besides, It’s all about keeping an open mind, dear.”
“Among other things you keep open,” Alice chimes in.
“That’s a little reductive. I just know how to enjoy life. And that means keeping yourself open. Unless you’re role playing a nun or something. But the whole chaste nun thing is overrated. It gets old real fast. Unless you have at least two dirty priests to help with the story.”
I sip my drink as the two of them natter on about sex positions and innovation and what you can do with plastic sheeting, a good set of handcuffs, and some of the sturdier fruits.
I’m going to miss them. Even when they get weird.
“— guys, I think I’m going to be leaving town, soon,” I say, interrupting Alanna as she’s partway through a diatribe on the finer points of leash-training a submissive.
“What the hell for?” Alice almost shouts, looking at me like I’m crazy.
Alanna just nods.
“Because right now, even though you guys are great, a lot of people see me different. Or they will. I’m the woman who sold herself, like some kind of prostitute, and it’s just going to get worse. I don’t want to deal with that kind of judgment.”
I don’t tell them about my ex, David. The less they know about that abusive bastard, the better. Hopefully they never even come across him.
“We understand, dear,” Alanna says, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“We do?” Alice says.
“In a small town like this, people judge, people gossip. Who I am in this community is going to totally change. I’m won’t be just Melody the veterinarian anymore. And I can’t face that.”
“So, what are you going to do? Just move?” Alice says. “What about the clinic?”
“I don’t know. You can have it, if you want. Or I’ll sell it. Julian gave me the whole building, so I’ll live off the rent and I’ll find somewhere else to live where I can get away from all this shit.”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Alanna adds. “You have to look out for yourself, do what makes you feel happy and secure. And if that means leaving Rockaway Bay, that’s what you have to do. Don’t feel bad about it.”
“When are you leaving?” Alice says. “When do I have to say goodbye to my best friend?”
“A week. Maybe sooner. Hopefully sooner. However long it takes to figure out all my stuff so it doesn’t all fall apart.”
It hurts seeing the pained look in Alice’s eyes. Another person that I’ve horribly disappointed.
It’s what I do, I guess.
“Fine,” she says. “We’ll figure it out, Mel. Give me a couple days to think about whether I want to manage the clinic or what. It might be easier to just shut it down.”
I know she’s just being practical, but thinking about my clinic closing wrenches my guts.
“I’m going to head home. It’s been a long day,” I say as I get up. I finish my drink as quick as I can. “Have a good night. And I’m sorry, Al.”
I step outside, still dwelling on just how I’ve screwed up my life in so short a time. I’ve gone from heights I never dreamed of
to a total free-fall. The only question now is just how far I can fall before I hit bottom and what happens when I do.
Freezing, keys in hand, I stand right by the door to my Fiesta. Shattered safety-glass crunches under my feet. Something tugs at my memory, the scent of a repulsive cologne, a grinning, repugnant face that I’ve tried to forget.
The words Bitch adorn the side of my car, scrawled in the paint.
He’s here.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Melody
“To be honest, Melody, it’s not much to go on,” Sheriff Dawes says, looking down at the words scratched into my car. I drove it to my clinic before I called him. I don’t want Alice or Alanna finding out about my ex, David, and asking more questions. “There are some conservative and close-minded people here in Rockaway Bay, and not all of them are going to approve of your, um, lifestyle choices.”
“So, what are you saying? That I just have to get used to this?” I show him my phone and the text messages I’ve already received from the number that I’m sure belongs to David.
He holds the phone for a minute, giving the texts a perfunctory look. “Right now, you’ve got some anonymous harassment and a little vandalism. It could be anyone. It’s just not enough to act on. But, listen, if anything else happens, call me, ok?”
This is all the same act that I’ve heard before, back in Colorado. It doesn’t surprise me, and it doesn’t really upset me, either. I just feel resigned to the fact that something serious is going to have to happen before they’ll pay attention.
“Thanks, Sheriff,” I say. Then, “can we keep this between us?”
He nods. “Sure thing. And remember, call me if you need anything, alright?”
I spend the night in my clinic, the doors locked, my phone out on the desk in front of me, ready to call the police as soon as David shows his ugly face.
It’s a hard night. Every sound tugs at my fears, every shadow makes me start. I listen to my heart thud away a panicked staccato beat in my chest while the moon traces it’s course in the sky.
I don’t think I breathe until daylight suffuses the sky.
In the morning, I take a confusing, circuitous route home, just to make sure he’s not following me. I’m home only long enough to change clothes and take a shower. In the driveway to my little rental house, I use a razor blade to scrape off a bunch of the paint and erase the word bitch from my car.
It looks like a total mess — like I sideswiped a median or something — but at least it’s less a reminder of his anger than before.
Then I head back to work. Alice is waiting for me when I get there, coffees in hand — my usual double-caramel latte — and, though she doesn’t say anything, I can tell when she sees me that she knows I slept like shit. Probably because I look like shit.
I keep my fears to myself. I’ve put enough on her, that I don’t need to become even more of a liability by letting her know that my psycho ex is in town.
“You look rough. Like, bad rough,” she says.
“So I look better than I feel,” I say, blowing on my latte to cool it down.
“Ouch. Well, we’ve only got three patients today, so if you wanted to go home and rest, I can handle it,” she says. “It’s more than usual, but, well it’s not really a ringing endorsement for keeping this place open.”
“If that’s what you decide when you take over, that’s fine. You have to do what you have to do,” I say. “I know I’m asking a lot of you. And I hate it, but I hope you can trust me in this. It’s better if I go. But if you do decide to keep this place open, I’ll cover all the bills. There’s going to be enough rent coming in from the other shops in the building to cover it.”
Alice shrugs. “I’ll have to see. At least if we close, we won’t be the only ones. I saw a sign on Gary’s Hardware store down the street. It’s been bought out and there’s a boatload of guys working on it. They’re gutting the whole place.”
“Really? I liked Gary. He helped me fix up the clinic on his free time.”
She plops down in her desk seat and stares at me through the steam rising from her coffee. “I hate that you’re leaving.”
“I hate it, too.”
“Then why are you doing it? You went with Julian to save this place — it was your dream — and now that you’re back, you’re giving it up? I mean, seriously, what the fuck?”
“I don’t want to. If I could stay, I would, but it’s complicated.”
“Some things are worth fighting for, you know. I’d like to think that your own business and your life here would fall in that category.”
“Sometimes you have to know when to cut your losses.”
She blows petulantly at the steam. “So, just like that? You’re cutting your losses here? Dropping the dead weight? Glad to know where I stand.”
I throw up my hands. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But that’s what you said. What do you mean, then? I mean, seriously, stop being so fucking obtuse.”
There’s such a heavy reproach in her look that I let out a sigh and steel myself and make myself let it go. If she thinks I’m obtuse, then I guess that’s how we’ll have to leave the relationship.
“It’s complicated, all right? Leave it alone. Let’s just get set up for our patients.”
We go through the rest of the day awkwardly avoiding each other as much as possible, which is difficult in the small clinic. Alice leaves for coffee after each appointment, and is gone for hours at a time.
Even the appointments are a bit awkward. I’m certain at least two of the owners we meet have heard all about me. They look at me like I’m some sort of oddity — a curiosity to look at from a distance and whisper about with their friends.
Alice and I end the day with a terse goodbye and she reminds me that she’ll be in at her usual time tomorrow with our coffee orders.
I shut the doors to the office and lock them, turning the key as tight as it will go.
I fall asleep, and fitfully wake to a buzzing from my phone.
It’s three in the morning. The town is quiet, the bars are closed, the only lights on are the street lamps and the stars in the sky.
I missed you.
My mouth goes dry and I stare at the screen.
It buzzes again.
Why aren’t you at home?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Melody
I don’t drive by my house until the morning. There isn’t any sign that anyone forced their way in. The windows are shut and unbroken.
I spend maybe an hour sitting in my car on the street outside, just watching until I’m sure that there’s no one waiting for me inside. Cautiously, I walk up to the house and peer through the windows like I’m a robber scoping out the place.
It’s dark inside. No one’s there.
I take my keys out and go up to the door. As I slide them in the lock, the whole door slides open. I know I locked this door when I left.
He was here.
My house doesn’t feel like a home anymore, knowing he’s crossed the threshold, that he’s stood in this very place.
I stand in the entryway. I listen, I strain every one of my senses hunting for him, until I’m sure he’s gone, until I force myself to have the courage to go inside. It’s been more than a year, but I can still picture the way his face gets beet-red when he’s angry. The way his eyes flare and his fists clench.
I’ll never forget what it felt like when he put his hands on me.
The kitchen is the first place I go, and I dig through my drawers until I find a knife. Clutching it in one hand, I head to my hall closet and grab a duffel bag and then run to my bedroom to pack a bag.
The place where I sleep is a mess. Torn to pieces in a fit of his rage. Pillows torn open, blankets ripped, the word ‘Slut’ carved into the wall above my bed.
Most of my panties are missing.
I’m not surprised.
I pack what I can. A mishmash few sets of clothes and whatever important documents I
’ll need to start a new life. The certificates and title for the clinic, my veterinarian’s license, some photos of Alice, Alanna, and me.
I’m leaving as soon as possible, as soon as I can wrap up transferring the clinic to Alice. Some signed papers, a notary’s stamp, and I’ll be done.
I grab my bag, lock my doors, and drive in to the clinic.
The street by the clinic is packed. There’s vans and trucks carrying handymen and contractors up to what used to be Gary’s hardware store. Whoever bought the place is inciting a frenzy of building and renovation in that old place.
They’re even taking up a huge section of the sidewalk as painters work on the beginnings of a sign for the place. So far, just the word ‘Mechanic’ is done.
It’s ugly. Whoever thought it up has a terrible eye for design.
I drive a little further down the street, navigating the maze of cars blocking my way. There’s even a van belonging to the local newspaper, and their reporters are milling about the shop.
I get in, park, and Alice is here. Way early. She hands me my latte, along with a heaping helping of a concerned look.
“You are really worrying me,” she says the second she sees me. “Are you sure you need to keep doing this to yourself?”
I look like a mess. I don’t blame her for questioning me.
“Yes, I am” I say, sipping my coffee and then putting the title and other documents for the clinic on the desk in front of her. “These are yours. I’m going to try and make an appointment today with a lawyer and whoever else we need to see to transfer it all over to you. Then you can sell it, turn it into a diner, keep it open, whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
She looks at the papers in front of her, disbelief and disappointment competing on her face. “You’re really doing this?”
“I am.”
“Well, it fucking sucks. I can’t believe I’m losing my best friend and I’ll never know why.”
I wish I could tell her, but I can’t bring myself to admit that I’ve been lying to her about who I am for as long as I’ve known her. Instead, I don’t answer, I leave the papers in front of her and head into the back of the clinic to clean the already-clean examination room. We don’t have any appointments today, and I need something mindless to do to help calm myself down before I start calling lawyer’s offices to get the title transferred.
