by Nesly Clerge
“I’ve read enough about this to grasp what it is they feel.”
She fixed her blue eyes on me. “Only read about it?”
I didn’t answer, but neither did I look away this time.
“You’re welcome to continue to attend our meetings.” She smiled. “That is, should you wish to expand your research.”
“Thanks, but I’m on spring break. I’m in medical school at Stanford.”
Emily’s smile stretched wide. “Then you’re in luck. WAM headquarters are near your campus. Follow me.”
I followed her to where she’d tucked her purse away in a kitchen cabinet. She extracted a folded sheet of paper, unfolded it and handed it to me. “Here’s the location, date, and time of the next meeting. Even if you go only once, at least do it so you can meet Patricia and hear her story. She tells it at the start of each meeting for the benefit of new attendees. If you decide to go, tell her I sent you with my greetings.”
I thanked her as I folded the paper and dropped it into my purse.
The last thing I was inclined to do was form some sisterhood type of relationship, much less get up and spill my guts at such a meeting. I’d never shared the details of my experiences with anyone, not even Abigail. I wasn’t about to start now.
I’d been on break a little over twenty-four hours and already it would be a relief to return to school. A relief to escape back to even the boring lectures.
Anything but wallow in this topic.
CHAPTER 29
I glanced at the three-ring binder filled with recipes Abigail had handwritten and forced on me before I returned to Stanford. The likelihood I’d ever use even one recipe was close to nil. No cooking allowed in the dorms would be my excuse if she asked, which she might, because Abigail was in town. She’d called and told me she’d driven in, gotten a room at a motel downtown, and would pick me up in thirty minutes for dinner and what she called a night on the town, whatever that meant.
I freshened up and changed clothes in the bathroom, brushed my straightened hair, and dabbed on some lip gloss.
Jenni looked up as I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. “You’re going out? Let me guess. You worked on and finished your paper while you slept.”
I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I can think of no reason why the activities of my life should concern you.”
“Geez. It was just a comment. No reason to get all clenched up about it. It’s just unusual—make that extraordinary—for you to go out on a Friday night.”
“Your point being?”
“You barely talk to me anymore, not even to insult me.”
“You’re the one who slings insults, and always first.” I turned the knob. “I know it was you who accused me of cheating.”
Jenni turned radish-red. “I would never do that.” She fastened a sneer on her face. “You think too much of yourself.”
“And, yet, your beta-adrenoceptors have exerted a dilator response on the basal tone of your facial cutaneous venous plexus.”
Her snide expression collapsed into one of disdain. “You really think you’re something special, don’t you?”
“I don’t think about it. However, it’s apparent you do.”
“Leave me the hell alone.”
“I intend to, and would have done so several seconds earlier had you not interfered.”
“You’re such a bitch.”
“Talking to your reflection again?”
I made it out of the room before the book she flung at me hit the door as I closed it behind me. Another demonstration of a penchant toward violence from her and I’d request a roommate change.
Abigail was fifteen minutes late. “Sorry, K. Buckle up. I’m starving.”
“Did you decide where you want to eat?”
“I asked someone to recommend a nice place. My treat.”
“You look fabulous. Not at all like someone who drove in today.”
“Actually, I got in last night.”
“I didn’t know. I suppose you had your reasons for not telling me. You must have slept well. You look rested.”
A small smile played on her lips. “There’s an art to relaxing.”
“And you have the art?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Maybe you can share it with me.”
“I intend to.”
CHAPTER 30
I rested back in the passenger seat and sighed with contentment. “That steak was huge. We should go somewhere and walk it off.”
“Forget walking it off. We’re going to dance it off.”
“You know I don’t dance.”
“I know you know how. I taught you.”
“That was in your living room. No chance of humiliating myself there.”
Abigail drove a few blocks then turned into a parking lot, which caused me to sit up straight. “This is a motel.”
“It’s where I’m staying.”
“Oh. Okay. I can live with dancing in your room.”
“Don’t be silly. They have a lounge.”
Abigail drove to the back of the motel and parked in a slot several spaces down from a back entrance. She pointed. “We’ll go in through that door.”
We entered the hallway. Abigail pointed to the first room on the left. “That’s my room.”
“I really don’t want to go to the lounge.”
“Loosen up, K. I need this.” She looked back and grinned at me. “So do you. More than you know.” She slowed her steps, wrapped an arm around my waist and said, “C’mon, K. Let’s have at least one drink and see how you feel. Do this for me, okay?”
“If I want to leave after one drink, you’ll do it?”
“Sure. But you’ll change your mind. Trust me.”
The music boomed and hurt my ears. People packed every square inch on the dance floor, every small table and booth, passageway, and around the bar.
Abigail shouted over the cacophony, “Follow me.”
I squeezed through people as I trailed her to the bar. We found about eight inches of unoccupied space and stopped.
“What do you want?” Abigail screamed next to my ear.
“Orange juice.”
“With vodka, right?”
“You know I don’t drink.”
“One little shot won’t do anything.”
“Abigail.”
“All right.”
Either the juice was off or the bartender ignored her. “My drink isn’t right. I think there’s alcohol in it.”
“Relax, K.”
“I’m not into these kinds of places.”
“I am.”
“Obviously. Are you looking for someone?”
“Why?”
“You keep looking around the room.”
“Just checking out the scenery.” She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, K, you’re the most uptight person I know. But I can fix that.”
“In this environment? Good luck.”
“I’ve got something better than luck.” She fished around in her small purse and pulled out a small medicine bottle, no label.
“What’s that?”
“Mood elevator. One pill in your drink will do the trick.”
“My mood doesn’t need elevating. Neither does yours.”
“Honey, trust me, you have no idea what you need.”
“I don’t do drugs, or alcohol, and you know why.”
“You sound like a broken record. I don’t do this. I don’t do that.”
Abigail plunked a pill into her drink, stirred and sipped. “See? Nothing to it.” She dropped a pill into mine and gave the straw a few swirls.
“I’m not drinking that.”
She puckered her lips into a pout. “You don’t trust me. You’re going to ruin my fun. After all these years of loyal friendship and …”
Abigail kept going until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “All right. I’ll sip on it.” That seemed to appease her.
I’d sipped about an inch of the beverage in the tal
l, narrow glass when Abigail began to jump up and down in place, waving a hand in the air. At first I thought she was happy about the music then followed where her eyes were focused. Two men fought their way through the throng.
“You know them?” I asked.
“I met them here last night.”
“And told them you were coming back tonight.”
“I told them we would be here tonight.”
My spine stiffened. I grabbed her arm. “How could you do this? First of all, you’re happily married to Hubby-Buns. Second of all, I don’t date.”
“I never got that about you. I mean, what’s the big deal?”
“I have my reasons. One of them being that men are disgusting.”
She faced me and grabbed my arm, hard. “Don’t you dare embarrass me, Katherine Barnes. I need a break from routine, and I want my best friend to enjoy it with me. Now act like a normal person for once. Can you please do that much?”
The insult crushed me. Getting it from Jenni was one thing. Getting it from Abigail was quite another.
The alcohol and, I suppose, the pill, whatever it was, were starting to take effect. I’d show her just how normal I could act. All I had to do was copy her antics.
What could possibly be difficult about that?
Easy-peasy, right?
CHAPTER 31
Abigail cheek-kissed the two men when they finally reached us. She rested her hand on the upper arm of the man with blond hair. “This is Jared. He’s my dance partner tonight.”
He rubbed Abigail’s bottom. “Baby, we are gonna dance until we can’t move.”
She giggled and slapped his arm playfully then pointed to the other man, tall, brunette, with brown eyes focused on me a little too intently.
“This is your date, Katherine. His name’s Clyde. I figured since both your names start with a hard sound, you should be together.”
Jared snickered.
Clyde raised my hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m pleased to meet you, Katherine. Don’t you look delicious this evening.” He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket, handed it to me, and said, “In case we discover we like each other enough to get together again.” He winked.
Pretend, I reminded myself. I dropped his card into my purse and attempted a giggle like Abigail’s but hiccuped instead. To cover my ineptness, I plastered a grin on my face.
This wasn’t as difficult as I’d imagined.
What a question—can I be normal? I can normal your derrière off, Abigail Wright.
On the dance floor, we gyrated under strobe lights that made me dizzy. Abigail let Jared grope her. She groped him in return. I decided to ignore them. That was mostly because Clyde was acting like a gentleman, making it easy for me to let the other two act stupid. Still, I wondered when this night was going to end. A person can pretend only so much and for only so long.
After six more songs, Clyde asked if I was thirsty. I nodded and asked him to get me an orange juice. He took my elbow and guided me to the bar.
It had to be bad juice or an inferior product because it tasted as bad—make that worse—than the one Abigail had gotten for me.
Clyde and I stayed at the bar until we finished our drinks then returned to the dance floor. I forgot about time. I forgot about school. Forgot that I detested everything about this environment and these people. Actually, it was more that I no longer cared. Nor could I recall why I’d objected before.
Abigail tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to follow her. Arms waving in the air to the music, and with Clyde’s hands on my waist, I did.
The lounge doors closed behind the four of us, but the bass thumping through the door and walls like a heartbeat followed us.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Are we calling it a night?”
Abigail and Jared had their arms around each other. She said, “These nice men are going to walk us to my room.”
It made sense to me. Abigail was in no condition to drive me back to my dorm. Spending the night with her was the logical thing to do.
We walked, though Abigail and I mostly staggered, along a couple of hallways. She pulled her key from her purse. Jared took it and opened the door.
I turned to tell Clyde goodbye, but Abigail pulled me into the room.
She turned on the radio and began to sway to the music. Jared clutched her to him, hands squeezing her backside, and they danced like that for several seconds. Then Abigail laughed and pushed him onto the king-size bed.
I watched, transfixed, as Abigail began to dance and remove her jewelry. She kicked off her shoes and kept going, dancing, removing one article of clothing at a time, until she was down to her bra, panties, garters and stockings. She always wore pantyhose. What was going on?
That question and others were in my mouth but couldn’t make it past my lips. Confusion set in. I wanted to get out of there but my body ignored orders from my brain.
Abigail looked at me, winked and said, “Consider this an early birthday present. Enjoy it, K. Once you get into it, you’ll see what you’ve been missing.” She pushed Jared onto his back and straddled him, began to unbutton his shirt. He unhooked her bra and played with her breasts.
This was all wrong and I couldn’t pinpoint why.
The room began to spin.
Clyde slipped his arm around my waist and led me to the bed. He slid my blouse over my head, unhooked my bra and tossed it to the floor. His fingers trailed over and around my nipples. He smiled and said, “Let’s see how long it takes for chocolate to melt.”
CHAPTER 32
Half-awake and eyes closed, I diagnosed that I must have been in an accident and my head had split open. I was sure of it, based on the pain level. I must have lain undiscovered for a long time because my tongue felt glued to my palate. I opened my eyes into slits and moaned as a streak of sunlight coming from a gap in drapes covering a window to my left hit me in the face. I slammed my eyes shut, moaned again, and wondered which hospital I’d been taken to.
Each second I lay there, another portion of my body made its condition known to me. Heaviness across my chest. Sore and sticky between my legs. Nipples and breasts, achy and tender. Something was wrong with me, but at least I was where hospital staff would take care of me. I called for anyone who might hear me but all that came out was a hoarse whisper.
I forced my eyes open. The ceiling, the drapes, the dresser and mirror across from me—all wrong. I had no clue where I was. The weight on my chest shifted. Looking down, I saw it was an arm. Hairy. Muscular.
Although it hurt, I turned my head to the left. A naked man lay snoring face-down on the bed, the back of his head to me. Panic flooded through me. In my attempt to slide from under his arm, he woke, faced me and pulled me closer. Screams came fast but faint. Despite the pain it caused, I kicked at him and beat him with my fists.
“Hey. Hey. Relax, baby. Did you wake from a bad dream? After last night, you should be purring like a kitten.”
I struggled away from him and staggered to my feet.
The man propped himself up on an elbow and raked his eyes over me. “Come back to bed.” He threw the covers off and stroked his erection. “I’m even better when I’m sober.”
“Who are you?”
“The man who turned you on last night. Well, one of them.” He studied me for a moment then grinned. “You are hungover. It’s Clyde, baby. Now come here and give me some more of that brown sugar.” He licked his lips and waggled his tongue.
My hand flew to my chest and I felt skin. I stepped back, onto something—my jeans. I grabbed them, turned, and slid them on. Holding my head I searched for the rest of my clothes. “Where am I?”
He gave me a sleazy leer and said, “No-Tell Motel.” At my horrified expression, he added, “Abigail’s room? Remember?”
“I don’t remember anything.”
He snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those?”
I found my bra and put it on. “I have no idea what you mean.” Fo
und my blouse and slipped it over my head.
“One of those women who play it wild then fake amnesia.”
“I’m not faking anything.” I found my shoes and slid them on. “You said this is Abigail’s room. Where is she?”
He shrugged. “No idea. Maybe she and Jared went to get coffee or something.”
“Who’s Jared?”
“Now you’re really stretching it.”
“I’m not stretching anything.”
“That’s right. You left the stretching to me.” Clyde sat up in bed. His erection gave no indication of diminishing anytime soon. “Look, baby—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“All right, Katherine. Keep your tits cool.”
“You’re revolting.” I found my purse between the dresser and the wall.
“That’s not what you thought last night.”
“I told you, I don’t remember anything about last night.”
“Then come back to bed so I can give you something you will remember.”
I glanced at the bathroom, desperate to use it for a number of reasons, but I was more desperate to get away. As quickly as I could manage, I moved toward the door.
“When you recover,” Clyde said, “call me.”
“Rot in hell.” I slammed the door behind me, exited the hallway door and buckled over from searing head pain as sunlight blasted me full-on. One thing I did recall was that Abigail had parked here at the back, just not where exactly. Up and down, I scanned the rows of cars parked next to the building and at the fence line opposite this back entrance. Abigail’s car was probably there, but I was in no condition to recognize it.
Body throbbing everywhere, I walked around to the front of the motel and entered the lobby, where I asked the person tending the reception desk to call a taxi for me. The clock on the wall behind the desk showed the time was 11:32. I panicked, again, when I thought I’d missed my morning classes. Then I remembered it was Saturday.
I waited inside, to the right of the double doors, out of the harsh light, and fought back tears brought on by Abigail’s egregious betrayal.
CHAPTER 33
Thankfully, Jenni was absent from the dorm room. I grabbed clean pajamas, swallowed a few analgesics and two glasses of water, and stood sobbing in the shower until the water ran cold.
