I’d locked the door already, or so I’d thought, after I’d shooed Polly out of it, Luis and his car keys trailing her. She only left when I promised there would be plenty for her to do tomorrow, or else she’d still be in here, gathering napkins and half-eaten canapés.
I’m glad she’s gone. Maybe I should’ve told her then, but I couldn’t. I don’t want her to find out now.
I swallow, straining to hear the clink, clink of glassware and willing Primrose to stay where she is. Tod has buggered off to God knows where, which is his usual MO when there’s work to be done. I haven’t seen Raif for more than an hour.
Please let them all stay where they are. Doing what they’re doing.
I straighten my shoulders. Tighten my grip on the glass. I’m glad we’re alone.
Just like before, I control the narrative, if not the situation.
“You’ve done well for yourself,” he murmurs, ignoring my instruction in favor of a slow stroll along the adjacent wall. “Your brother must’ve helped.”
As his head turns over his shoulder, I ignore the malicious gleam. There’s no way in hell he’s getting paid off a second time.
I’m not the person I was back then.
But would I tell this time?
“You choose this one?” he asks, pointing at Tod’s gaping metal vagina.
“I need you to leave.” Fuck off. Explode. Disappear in a puff of smoke. I don’t care which.
“See,” he says, stretching his shoulders, “I don’t think I will.”
“Fine. I’ll call the police.” I pivot on weak legs, cursing that this dress doesn’t have pockets. I’d have my phone. “Trespassing is a criminal offense.” No matter what passed between us five years ago.
The police won’t care that he stole my virginity—took what I wasn’t ready to give. That he dumped me the same week to move on to my so-called friend. They weren’t there to witness my crumbling. I’d felt dirty and discarded. Like I would never be clean again.
Would it have mattered to them that I was drunk? Maybe even a little high? It didn’t matter the evening I launched a brick through his window when he called them.
Being under the influence was not an excuse, but it was the reason I spent the night in their cells.
Whit sorted it out and paid Julian off so he didn’t press charges.
I wanted to tell my brother that he deserved nothing but pain—I wanted to scream it. Wasn’t I the victim? But I kept my secret. Turned it inward. Let it explode outward, knocking my life off course for a a little while.
It was my story. My choice to share it or not. But the story ended.Fin.
I moved on. I’ll be damned if there will ever be so much as a postscript, let alone a sequel.
“You don’t want to do that.” My wrists in his hands, his soft voice is menacing. “Not after what you did last time.”
“Get the fuck off me.” I’m not that girl. I am every woman. Hear me roar eternally, even as a tear tracks down my cheek.
The glass in my hand now smashed against the counter. Shards slicing my bare leg. The jagged edges embedded now in his thigh.
“You stupid fucking bitch!” His hands fall away, his face rage filled.
My lashes flutter, and a thought flits across my brain. Did I just make things better or worse?
“You’re gonna pay for this.”
I shake my head. “I already have.” I throw the glass, not bothering to see where it lands as I pivot away, my mind screamingrun!
30
RAIF
