I gave him the name of the restaurant I’d heard the women ranting about and cut the call as the engine purred to life. “Your pussy is marked with my name, little fox. You’re mine to fuck with.”
thirty-five
. . .
Ishika– 31 years old
After the girls crashed into my home, demanding I go on a date with Sean, the green-eyed journalist, I could find no valid reason to say no.
That evening, I opened my front door to Trixie dragging what she called her ‘let’s get sexy’ bag. Until now, I didn’t believe Brandi when she mentioned Trixie owned every color lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara and whatever other make-up women wore on dates that she housed in a special case.
For someone who rarely wore make-up, apart from lip gloss and eyeliner, I humored the girls’ suggestion for a Trixie makeover. An hour later, despite the exhaustion, I hardly recognized the reflection staring back at me. The woman in the mirror looked softer, confident.
“Wow, Trix, you’re amazing.”
“I know.” She danced a happy jig. “Now for the dress.” Hands on her hips, she stood outside my closet, surveying my clothes in earnest. “Here, try this one.” She reached inside then held up a black sexy number I forgot I owned.
Laughing, I removed my robe and was about to take the dress from her when her shocked gasp paused my hand mid-air.
“Oh, my God, what happened to you.” She pointed to my body.
I glanced down. Two rows of scars, starting just below each breast and descending to my panty line, in neat little stripes against my skin. For a moment, I forgot the reason I never appeared naked in front of anyone. The reason I never wore revealing clothes or two-piece bikinis, the reason I chose to be single. The reason I shouldn’t be going out on this date.
“Don’t tell me,” Trixie’s whisper had me lifting my eyes to her watery ones.
My throat thickened. Even though she’d rather I not share something I didn’t understand myself, she couldn’t hide the hurt she felt for me.
I swallowed the emotion and offered her a paltry smile. “Honestly, I don’t know what they are.” It was the truth. “As a doctor I understand they’re self-inflicted injuries, but I have no idea when they began and when they ended. Most importantly, why.” I sighed. “My sister doesn’t know either. She says I probably hid them from her. Maybe one day I quit harming myself and stuffed the memory at the back of my mind.”
“She’s right, Ish.” Trixie slid her arms around me in a tight hug. “It’s why skeletons like to stay hidden.” She leaned back to look at me. “If they appeared suddenly, they might scare people away. Or worse, they might scare the very person who imprisoned them.”
Since knowing her, Trixie’s airy-fairy attitude suddenly made sense. It was her coping mechanism for her pain. She palmed my cheeks, her blue eyes glowing with tears. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you.”
“Now.” She wiped her eyes. “Let’s find you a?—”
“What if…” I trailed off, touching the raised skin on my ribs. A phantom itch crawled along the lines. I wasn’t sure this date was a good idea.
“Don’t say it,” Trixie’s abrupt reprimand had me looking up. “Ish.” Her expression softened. “The right man will see your true beauty beneath your scars. Finding him means stepping out of your comfort zone. A case of trial and error, right?”
“Oh, my God. Such sentimentality fromyou.” I teased, lightening the mood.
She laughed, playfully punching my arm. “Oh, just you wait and see.” She narrowed her eyes at me, faking a scowl. “One day, you’ll see me for the true love guru I am.”
Laughing, I took the black dress from her. Another thirty minutes later, I stood in front of the mirror having changed my dress for the tenth time. “Too casual,” I muttered, slipping the yellow sleeveless summer dress over my head.
“What about this?” Trixie backed out of my closet with another dress.
Frowning, I took it and held it against my body, enjoying the cool feel of the material against my skin.
“It’s stunning and brings out your eyes. Not too casual, not too formal. Yet perfectly sexy.” My social media influencer with her camera pointed at me was already clicking away.
“I’m in my undies, Trix.”
“Right.” She pocketed the phone giving me a sheepish grin. “I’ll wait till you’re dressed.”
“That might work,” I didn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but my chuckle made her beam.
