Alright, he’s my cousin. He stood up for me, I’ve known him all my life. I can very easily speak to this man, right?
“Thank you for picking me up,” I say softly and he grunts in acknowledgement. “If it helps, I’m strictly off dating after that. I mean what a fucking asshole. I’m just going to focus on my job at Kemper’s and figure out what I want to do next. No more men getting in the way of that.”
He makes another noise, but doesn’t speak.
Maybe I should have gotten an Uber, it surely wouldn’t be as miserable as this.
“How is the new complex coming along?” I ask, trying to change tactics.
“Fine,” he replies.
“Sorry I asked,” I whisper.
He hears it, of course he hears it.
“Penny, please just shut the fuck up until we get home,” he says, his tone even.
I swallow and look out the window and my eyes start to well with emotion.
“Sorry for just trying to have some conversation with you.”
He sighs, and pushes his head against the headrest.
“I don’t want to talk, because if you keep talking I’ll want to turn around and run that fucker over with my car. Do you know how much restraint it took for me to just slap him? God, I wanted to hit him so hard that he would have to be fed through a fucking straw. So please shut up so I can get my shit together, take you home, and go back to my normal everyday life. My life that isn’t interrupted with dramatic late night rescues because you can’t seem to have any sense of self preservation or any fucking radar when it comes to a man being an absolute piece ofshit,” he seethes the last words and the car fills with silence once again.
I hold back my tears, because I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt my feelings. Even though there's no doubt that he knows, he probably just doesn’t care.
At least he cares about me enough to want to hurt Jameson, but not enough to worry about how he speaks to me.
He has to know that I’m insecure about what a fuckup I am. That every relationship I’m in becomes my whole personality and I currently feel like a shell of a person with no path.
He’s too smart not to know. And I’m too stubborn to give him any satisfaction over it. Instead, I stare out the window while he drives and I think about how exactly I can overcome this affliction of being a hopeless romantic.
We drive past Avalon on our way home, and it feels like a light bulb goes off in my head.
“Avalon looks nice,” I say, completely wanting to avoid acknowledging how much Lincoln hurt my feelings, and maybe to piss him off.
“It’s pathetic is what it fucking is.”
I roll my eyes, taking in the bright sign.
A sex club shouldn’t be the sign I’ve been waiting on for what direction to take in my life, but here it is, beaming brightly in my face.
I need to know who I am outside of a relationship, outside of my family. Exploring this part of myself with no one else fills me with a sense of excitement and liberation.
Some of my sexual desires have been part of the problem in my past relationships—among other deeper issues. I've had to suppress some of the things I wanted to explore because my boyfriend at the time didn’t feel comfortable with what I wanted. Along with hiding who I really am.
Maybe if I’m able to get sexual gratification anonymously, I can still get laid, but work on myself at the same time. Without sex I know I’ll fall for the first guy who buys me a drink and tells me I’m pretty—my standards are in the damn gutter.
I don’t think my therapist would agree with this plan, but I definitely don’t plan on telling Deb what I’m up to.
No one besides me and the club owner needs to know what I do at Avalon. Maybe there’s some way to get a discount based on my interests. I’m trying desperately not to mooch off of my family anymore, and my salary at Kemper’s is pretty sad.
This plan has some merit to it. Maybe I won’t feel this urge to latch on to a man who gives me attention when I don’t know who it is. I can protect my heart and try to figure out who I am in the process.
Lincoln parks his car, and I get out of the passenger's side and head straight to the elevators. I’m on floor eight and Lincoln is on floor seven. We don’t speak as I hit the buttons. The elevator ride is just as stifling as the car ride was, and I take a breath of relief when he gets off on his level.
He doesn’t even look at me as he leaves the elevator and heads to his apartment. I feel like I can finally breathe once he’s out of my sight and I drag my sorry ass home.
