] The Right Place

Cassandra Blair

Copyright © 2022 by Cassandra Blair All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents Chapter 1

1

Chapter 2

12

Chapter 3

17

Chapter 4

20

Chapter 5

23

Chapter 6

29

Chapter 7

36

Chapter 8

40

Chapter 9

46

Chapter 10

49

Chapter 11

56

Chapter 12

65

Chapter 13

72

Chapter 14

77

Chapter 1582

Chapter 1 ***

31 years old today. I’m granted an additional stretch mark with every year of life. The pale-colored pink stretchmark may show on my inner thigh or underarm this year. Wherever it may be, I’ll hide it with jeans and a long sleeve shirt all summer. It won’t matter that I have armpit stains or my crotch is a swampy wetland from sweating. Being fully dressed makes me feel a little less self-conscience. I can hide behind my clothes. It’s too early to be thinking negatively. I told myself last night before I fell asleep that I’ll have a better day than yesterday. Although, seeing the March weather creeping through the blinds today explains how I feel. There are clouds taking over the sky but some sun trying to say hello; I feel miserable yet there is still some hope. My alarm went off at 6:00 AM because as an adult, no one cares that it’s your birthday. My parents didn’t enter my bedroom in the early morning with chocolate chip pancakes topped with tons of syrup, singing “Happy Birthday”. I’m glad they didn’t since I have a naked man lying next to me. The guy isn’t a steamy one-night stand that you tell your girlfriends about over endless mimosas in an upscale restaurant. This is like a onenight stand you regret because you don’t have your beer goggles on anymore. It’s an “oh shit” moment. Although, this is a four-year one-night stand of repetitive, mindless sex that you try to slide one eye over to sneak watch TV or think how many Oreos you’ll devour after this five-minute hump session is done. Sex can’t go on any longer anyways unless I want a chaffed vagina. In my eyes, once 1

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you hit thirty; your body does not create that gushing, Niagara Falls discharge. It is more like the Sahara desert with sprouts of cacti. It could be the man I am with or my vagina is saddened with how it has been treated, or not treated at all. I keep telling myself to get my life together. One day. At the moment, I look like I’ve crawled out of my gravesite. I am no sleeping beauty when I wake up. I toss, turn and drool in my hair all night. I want to do more than the bare minimum with my appearance for my birthday. I want to turn a few heads today. It’s my day, damnit. Turning the bedroom light on, Joe shields his eyes. A long groan comes out of him. Thoughts race through my mind like “It must be nice to sleep in every day” or “Some acknowledgment of what today is would be nice”. I decided against the early morning fight. Be positive. I put a few curls in my long brown hair instead of the normal ponytail and bobby-pinning the extra falling pieces. I pulled out the good makeup that costs over ten dollars, instead of the Dollar Tree makeup from 2014. I couldn’t spruce up my attire. My outfit was the same daily for work. I have to wear the company logo shirt that says in large orange lettering “Bass Insurance” and tight khakis. My male boss thinks the tighter the clothes, the more insurance I can sell. I understand his way of thinking is vile, but this is the best-paying job that I could find. We can’t have two unemployed people in one household. After grabbing a three-day-old, powdered donut, hoping to not get too much on my clothes and look like a cocaine addict, I walked to the bus stop. Living in a small apartment on the outskirts of New York City is not the American dream, but there is never a dull, quiet moment. Joe and I decided to rent an apartment until we decide to have children. I don’t see any children soon, so my ovaries need to understand their existence, and work ethic is important to me, just not now. My relationship is at a standstill until Joe decides to figure out what he wants to be when he’s older…at 37 years old. Joe lost his landscaping job a year ago when he decided to show up to work hungover after a guy’s night out. His boss looked past him smelling of alcohol but not when he vomited in the new sod the other 2

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employees just laid. I’ve been paying the bills for the past year. He figured him being fired from his job was a sign to pursue his music career. I should mention that he has never played an instrument in his life before all of this. He puts on daily concerts in the shower. I would like to return my ticket for these shower concerts. There is no musical ability. He just doesn’t get my sly hints when I tell him music should be a hobby for him, not a career. Our neighbors in the apartment across the hall are elderly so they never hear his repugnant, attempted guitar playing. I enjoy having elderly neighbors because they wake up at the crack of dawn for no reason to sit on their porch in complete silence. I guess after over fifty years of being together, you don’t have much to say. With them sitting on their porch at the same time I leave for work, I normally get a smile and sometimes breakfast on the go. Today, there was no Greta and Giorgio sitting on the porch. Of course, the day I want to feel special, they decide to sleep in. After the short six-minute walk to the bus stop, I already planned that I want Joe to take me to the new Chinese restaurant, Chan’s Gourmet House, then finish the night off at Ricky’s Bar and Grille to get sloshed, which is only about three margaritas, but it’s enough to make me hate myself in the morning. The regular 7:00 AM people are at the bus stop. It’s always a mixture of professionals in ironed business clothes or blue-collar workers with multiple stains on their clothes. The freaks of New York normally don’t rise until afternoon. Sometimes one of the freaks straggles onto the morning commute bus but the evening bus ride home is when it is a real shitshow. I have seen men with high heels, junk hanging out from a skirt, and women with boobs almost down to their belly buttons like bras were never invented. The worst of all are the men with tiny “man buns.” I watch them in awe thinking how are you so self-confident to have a tiny nipple of hair atop your head? What woman has ever said, “My favorite thing about you is when you let your man bun down into a mullet or bob cut.” But what do I know; I’m with a man that has a receding hairline that it’s made a tiny hair island on his head. He refuses to shave it off, 3

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saying it is not noticeable. It’s noticeable just no one else has the guts to tell him. I sit in my usual seat on the bus, far enough from the bus driver who likes to talk about her grandchildren like they are the only children in the world who do the “cutest things” but close enough to the entrance so I don’t have to shimmy past many seats bumping them with my large thighs saying “excuse me” eleven times. The bus is never full enough for people to sit next to each other, but I always people watch and imagine what their lives are like. The man in his fifties with the expensive, tailored suit who is glued to the latest iPhone probably has a mistress. He doesn’t know that the mistress is his wife’s hairstylist. He can’t keep his secret forever. I will go as far as giving these people fake names and sometimes feel bad for something that is not even happening. I once started crying on the bus because I thought of a fake story that the tired guy, wearing a grease-covered uniform, nodding off in the backseat of the bus was on his way home to his dying child but he had to keep working to support her medical bills. I looked like one of the freaks of New York after that tearful episode. The bus riders normally catch me staring but I have a friendly enough smile for them to not think I’m a pervert or not all mentally there. After a 45-minute bus ride, I’m lucky to only have a few steps to my work building. The building consists of over forty businesses. Bass Insurance is the only life insurance company in the building. The buildings are filled with law firms, dentists, family physicians, and other high-paid professions. My twenty-one-an-hour job does not compare to their salary. Their lunch deliveries are fresh sushi, steaks, and some foods that I can’t pronounce or even have an idea if it is meat, vegetable, or dessert. I learned last week that Foie gras is the liver on a duck or goose. I made a tradition to visit one of the three fast food restaurants within a mile of my work building. I pamper myself with anything on their dollar menu. I never mispronounce items off the dollar menu. To make me feel better, I like to think at least I am getting three cheeseburgers rather than one steak. Once I hit the twelfth floor, the smell of fish whips me in the 4

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face. It isn’t the type of fish that you smell at a strip club or after you have done a five-mile run and your crotch needs a good washin’. My boss, Brian, is obsessed with fishing which may be obvious for naming his company after a fish. Brian hired a not-so-reputable company to install fish tanks along the wall. He pays them to clean them biweekly. The company completes a 15-minute lazy scrub of the glass. When a fish passes from the disgusting conditions, they replace it with a replica. Along the walls, Brian has mounted fish that he has caught on his multiple vacations. He claims his weeklong excursions are a part of work finances since it’s technically décor. I won’t argue with his statement. It’s a week without him in the office. Other than Brian being a sexist cretin, my co-workers are tolerable. There are three of us who run the show at Bass Insurance. Donovan is a twenty-two-year-old boy toy. I don’t know how many divorces or break-ups he has created. Smooth-talking, tattooed, and straight out of an underwear model magazine man. His dark brown hair and chinstrap are always perfectly groomed with no stray hairs. When he walks by, a scent of apple cinnamon fills your nose. It’s a nice change from the fish smell. His tanned, silky-looking skin and baby-blue eyes are an exemplary couple. I can only imagine what he offers in bed with so many women lovesick. Women have shown up at the office because he hasn’t responded to their several calls or texts. Some have been so lovesick that they will bring him lunch. That normally leads to ten-minute meet-ups in the bathroom for a quick bam-bam in the ham, jamming the clam, stuffin’ the muffin” …you get the point. From his eye candy appearance, my other co-worker is the complete opposite. Regina is Brian’s mother-inlaw. Secretly, I think Brian’s wife wanted to use Regina as a spy in the office to make sure Brian is not cheating, but his wife claims she wants her mother to feel like she has a purpose. Regina hits a little over five feet with a head of curly gray hair. Being over eighty years old, she speaks like a train is blowing through the office. I can’t tell her to use her indoor voice or ever get angry with her in fear of being fired. Being fired isn’t an option for me at the moment if I want a place to live. 5

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The New York streets are not kind to the homeless. Since being an adult and learning to keep your mouth shut, you also learn to not ask for days off that are not an emergency. My arm could be limping in the wind from being broken; Brian still would not deem it as a necessary day off. At meetings, Brian slips in that personal days are only for the weak. The joy of being an adult on your birthday is you don’t get the day off. You still go to your job and get a few half-ass “Happy Birthdays” from co-workers you secretly hate but have to get along with because you weren’t born into a wealthy family and have a trust fund. I’ve already done the research to make sure I was not adopted and my real parents are Fortune 500 business owners. I obviously had negative results. Walking onto the floor was just another day. Donovan was trying to be secretive texting under the desk while Regina was typing one letter at a time on the keyboard with her glasses sliding down her nose. Donovan gave me the normal head nod and Regina gave me a loud “Sweetie, how are you today on this blessed day” which I always return with “Ohh, I am good, Regina” with the sweetest smile I can muster. My desk is in the corner facing away from everyone else. It faces one of the fish tanks, but I still feel like I am in time out. I normally get distracted by the fish swimming back and forth. I compare my life to the four neon-colored fish swimming in a tiny aquarium. I figure they are stuck in the same tank as I am with my co-workers and their tank always has a musty smell, especially when Donovan finds it hilarious to pass gas when he passes Regina or I’s desk. It’s always the silent ones. He thinks that I don’t realize it but his laugh gives it away. Regina always whispers “Those dang fish” and goes back to work. Age does not bring wisdom in some cases. Brian interrupts my thinking with a smirk and stares at me. He can be cunning with his words to not get a sexual harassment charge. I’ve received “You look like you’ve got plenty of sleep last night” or he can be straightforward and repulsive saying “Your chest is saying hello to me today” with a wink. I always nod with a halfsmile because it normally gets him to leave. “I love whatever you did with your hair”, Brian said. I did my 6

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half-smile and nod. He didn’t leave though. He placed one butt cheek on my desk and said “How does it feel to be over the hump at thirty-one?” I replied, “I didn’t know that thirty-one was over the hump, I more so expected it to be around forty or fifty.” He said “Well when my wife was your age, she had her mid-life crisis and decided to have a child. That goes to my next question, do you not want kids because you are getting to the age where it could be dangerous?” It was too early for this. My morning coffee wasn’t even half empty. I snapped back “I could have children at forty if I wanted to. I prefer to wait until I am married to Joe.” Brian made a sarcastic “HA-HA” and added “Sweetheart, he is not the boy you want to marry. You need a real man with a job, a man that treats you right physically, mentally, emotionally, and most of all in bed.” I rose from my chair and angrily responded “Thank you for your advice, but I do not need it”. I walked to the bathroom down the hall. I needed to calm down. I didn’t want to say anything that I would regret. I felt sweaty from anger as thoughts raced through my mind. Why does Brian think his shit doesn’t stink or that he can get away with saying those disgusting things to me? I guess because I let him but what if he is right? What if Joe does not treat me the way I should be treated? I don’t remember the last time he complimented me. He hasn’t said a simple “thank you” for being the only income so he can live his dream of being a musician. I have not had a date paid for me in over a year, other than a few items off the dollar menu at Taco Bell down the road from our apartment. That’s only because he made money selling items from around our house. Might I add that he only goes there because he can walk and does not have to ask for gas money? Then again, I am comfortable in my relationship. I don’t have to wake up early and apply makeup before he gets up. I can even poop with the door open around him. I don’t have to run the shower, the faucet, and put the fan on to cover the gurgling poop noise either. I can’t imagine going through the awkward phase of dating again. Am I even attractive enough to date or is anyone my age even looking that doesn’t have children or has been married before? The thoughts must stop; it was only one unmindful remark 7

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from Brian. He doesn’t know anything about a decent relationship. I can’t count the times that he has had pretend business meetings in his office with the blinds and door shut with several young, skinny broads. Not that many young women are looking for life insurance and if they were, why wear a tight skirt so short that your vagina lips are playing peek-a-boo with the world? Regina is so naïve that if she caught him kissing another woman, he could simply say “I was smelling her breath to see if she needed gum” and she would say “What a sweet soul you have, Bless your heart.” I got so worked up over Brian’s comment that I didn’t realize I was hiding in the bathroom for over twenty minutes, just pacing back and forth. I took a few deep breaths before peeking out of the bathroom to make sure Brian returned to his office. I calmed myself down. Damnit, it is my birthday and I am going to have a good day. I need to just remind myself of that. At my desk, I saw a bright blue cupcake with an unlit candle. Regina stood up, walking towards me with a huge smile. She said “It is not difficult to remember all two of my co-worker’s birthdays. I wanted to get you a little treat.” Finally, the first good thing to come out of today is a cupcake with two fingerprints on the sides from her grabbing it to put on my desk. I gave her a hug and said “Thank you, I really appreciate it; you do not understand how much I do.” She said, “No problem sweetie, enjoy the rest of your day.” And with that simple act of kindness, I already felt better. After my eight-hour workday and 45-minute bus ride home with the evening weird crowd, I felt relieved to be walking down those bus steps. The air was still warm and you could smell a bonfire nearby. That was another positive of living on the outskirts of New York City; you could at least smell a bonfire and grass. Downtown New York City had a smell mixture of urine and corndog. There wasn’t much grass to see either. As I turned on my street, I noticed three cop cars, an ambulance, and a firetruck. I didn’t have any panic in me since living in an apartment building; people will call emergency services if they just smell something burning. Its normally someone’s cooking. There 8

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should be an apartment rule that you warn others of burnt food and never cook fish without all your windows open. The hallway reeks of fish on Fridays. We only had one small fire when a child knocked a burning candle over. The mother was able to put it out with only damage to the carpet, but not quickly enough. The fire alarms rung for over 30 minutes until the fire department could contact the landlord to turn them off. All the tenants are kind of used to it now, but as I got closer, I noticed a few people crying. I still didn’t think too much of it. I reached the entrance of the apartment building and was stopped by a police officer. He said, “I apologize ma’am, but you will need to wait off to the side.” With a bit of attitude, I said “I only live a few steps away.” I didn’t mean for the attitude to slip out. Clearly already irritated, he said “I understand that, but you need to wait until the scene is clear.” I thought about stomping away like a bratty teenager mad at their parents, but decided to comply to his orders even though I wanted to get to Joe to see what he had planned. I planted myself near the other crowd of neighbors and pulled out my cell phone to keep me busy. I overheard one older man in his eighties say “I could be next, you never know.” I became more curious as to what was happening. Everything was not adding up to be a burnt casserole left in the oven too long. I was trying to find someone I remotely knew to ask what details they had until I saw a stretcher with a white blanket covering a body coming down the steps. Panic shot through me. I started searching for the only three people I knew in the building. I was frantic. Where are they? I don’t see Joe outside. The police officers are right next to my door. Joe didn’t call me to wish me “Happy Birthday” all day. I did not see him post any stupid memes on Facebook either. What if this covered body is his? Another covered body on a stretcher was wheeled out of the entranceway by a paramedic. My low self-esteem caused me to think Joe had another female over. Something terrible happened. My emotions switched to anger. Joe knew I was at work. He could have had a female over. I wouldn’t put it past Joe to meet someone off social media and the female turn out to be a murderer. 9

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He would deserve it for cheating. I grew angrier with my imaginative thoughts until the same older man in his eighties said “Giorgio and Greta were such good people; it is a shame they had to go.” My head spun. I felt dizzy and faint. Giorgio and Greta have no major health issues that I am aware of. They have only complained about their high blood pressure. Did I get the date wrong? Is it not March 21st? Is it April’s Fools day and they thought this would be funny? This is some crazy prank they would pull. Last April Fools, they bought a real tarantula and let it roam the apartment hallways. Finally, someone stepped on it but Giorgio and Greta got a kick from hearing people scream while they sat safely on their balcony. The year before, Greta poured ketchup over her shirt saying Giorgio stabbed her. I cried while she laughed hysterically. The couple always knew how to have fun and keep things exciting. I ran to the officer as he was shouting the scene is clear and we are able to return to our homes. I panicked. I only got out “Giorgio? Greta? What?” The police officer sighed. He was still annoyed. He said “A phone call was received around four in the evening from an older male saying a female was having trouble breathing. When officers and paramedics arrived, it was too late. The female had passed. When the male heard about the woman passing, he fell to the floor in a panic attack. We believe that led to a heart attack. He passed shortly after.” My stomach dropped. I ran to Giorgio and Greta’s door. They would obviously answer and say it was all a mistake. They have no clue what I am talking about. It was two other people under those white sheets. I pounded on their door. I continued pounding and shouting their names. I was sobbing and went to my knees. They were gone. The two people I felt closest to are gone. Did Giorgio die of a broken heart? Is that even possible? I needed to be in the comfort of my own home. I slowly walked to my door. The door swung open. Joe was standing in his boxers. He nonchalantly said, “What’s up Hun?” Through the tears, I managed to ask him if he knew what happened. He shook his head no and said “I was asleep all day and rudely was awoken by all the commotion 10

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outside. Was it another dumb fire?” I was furious. What if Giorgio tried knocking on our door for help and Joe shrugged it off? If he was awake, he could have comforted Giorgio and maybe saved at least him. I blamed both deaths on Joe. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I stood up and knocked shoulders with him on purpose and mumbled to get out of my way. I sunk into my bed not wanting to think or deal with the world. I turned my brain off and quickly fell asleep.

11

Chapter 2 ***

I woke hours later to complete darkness in the room, freezing from not having blankets on me. I rolled over to check my phone. 8% and 9:00 PM with no missed calls or texts. I cannot believe I slept my whole birthday away even though I was not much in the mood to celebrate. I stumbled out of bed to turn the lights on and find Joe. After opening the door, there was only more darkness. None of the lights were on. The whole apartment was empty. I genuinely felt sad like a mashed banana. I had no energy. I was drained. I was upset. I was hurt. I felt like it took energy to breathe. I made my way to the couch. On the coffee table, a piece of paper lay there in the mess. In tiny handwriting, written was “went out with guys, see you later.” He forgot. Joe completely forgot that my birthday is today. After four years of being together, he did not remember the one day that is relevant to me. I know his birthday is January 3rd. I rented a fire hall for his birthday this year. I invited all his family and friends, had it catered by his favorite Italian restaurant, and even had a DJ that just played his playlist from his phone. I worked overtime for that birthday party. There was no “I love you” or “Happy Birthday” on the note. I grabbed my phone and planned out what I was going to say about his stupidity. I called with no answer. I called again and again with no luck. Tears swelled in the eyes. My anger sent a hasty, colorful text message. I could find the bar he is at and cause a scene. I wanted him to know how upset I am. Upset that he is not here to comfort me for the death of two 12

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people I cared deeply about or that today was supposed to be my day. I ended up lying on the couch, crying myself to sleep only to be woken in the middle of the night by Joe staggering in. The rage never left me. I stood up quickly. I said “Nice of you to show up finally. Did you not bother to check your phone?” Joe slowly said “You were moody when you got home. I figured I would let you sleep.” “Moody? Do you even know what today is?” Joe started to lean against the doorway to the bedroom and have a slight wobble. “I don’t know, I just want to go to bed.” I sat down in disbelief while he disappeared into the bedroom. I had no fight left. I sat on the couch while he climbed into bed like everything was fine. I wanted to sleep. I wanted a new day to start fresh. I tossed and turned all night, checking social media hoping to find something to take my mind off everything, but my mind felt like it was on its deathbed. There were no animal videos or prank videos that could cheer me up. I couldn’t take lying on our yard sale couch any longer. The springs may have made a permanent indent in my back. I walked into the bedroom not caring that I would have to sleep next to Joe. A putrid smell hit me. I know New York streets can smell, but it has never crept into our apartment like this. I was too tired to care; I just wanted to lie down on something more comfortable. I wanted to cover myself with a blanket that actually covered my whole body instead of the tiny throw blanket on the couch. I wanted my memory foam pillow that cost the same amount as my weekly grocery bill. I slid under the covers. Something wet greeted me. I quickly rose. My hair was wet where I laid my head down. The smell followed me as I went to turn the bedroom lights on. As I flicked on the light, it hit me. That rancid smell was vomit. Joe was lying in a pile of vomit that spewed across his pillow and mine. My hair, the side of my face, and my sweatshirt were covered. I ran to the shower before I vomited the only contents of my stomach, the cupcake from Regina. I scrubbed my whole body from head to toe like this would be the last shower I would ever have. I finished my bottle of body wash and began to use Joe’s stash. Let me smell like a man. I didn’t care. I was disgusted. The shower was my thinking spot. I had 13

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to decide what my plan was. Do I let him sleep and he can find his mess when he is hungover and has to clean it? Should I be a good girlfriend and clean the bed and guide him to the shower? I threw my wet towel at his face thinking he would wake up. Joe didn’t flinch. There was no waking him. I was in complete disbelief that this is how my birthday was ending. As I stared at Joe laying there, I started to think of all his negative qualities. His brain for thinking being unemployed and relying on your girlfriend is acceptable, his eyes for always looking at other women thinking he is being sly, his mouth for always saying the wrong things, his dirty fingernails that he eats the dirt out of, his penis that has an abnormal curve, and all the way down to him never clipping his toenails and cutting me in bed with them. I tried to think of positive traits about Joe. I was racking my brain. I could only think about the beginning of the relationship. He was a charmer when we first started dating, but after the first couple of months, the door was held open, and kisses on the forehead slowly drifted away. Why have I put up with Joe for so long when I am clearly unhappy? What would I do if I decided to leave Joe? I already lost two important people to me, was I willing to lose another? I glanced over at his lifeless body I knew was still alive due to the snoring that could wake the dead. If that old saying was true, I’d have Greta and Giorgio back and that would be the one positive thing about Joe. Giorgio and Greta, their deaths were so unexpected. You never know when something could happen to you and we take advantage of our lives every day. I could die tomorrow by getting hit by a car or even choking on my morning donut. I would die unhappy with my life. I could not live like this anymore. I needed to find what makes me happy. I am not even sure what does other than fried foods and caffeine. I needed a plan quickly. If I thought more about this, I would talk myself out of leaving. I started packing my clothes. The apartment was in my name but I wanted to just leave. I knew I could be loud and Joe wouldn’t move a muscle. I packed enough for a week but realized I don’t have the money for another apartment. I could maybe afford a night or two in a hotel, but I would end up 14

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right back here. I would have to put my ego aside and take a trip to my parents’ house. I haven’t spoken to them in over a year. They think I’ve made the wrong choices in life and are quite open about that. They don’t agree with my career, relationship, or even what area I chose to live in because of the crime ratings. I needed my parents financially though. I packed three bags and grabbed some snacks for the long drive. I have a seven-hour drive to Rogers, Ohio. My parents live in a small village where the population is a little over 200. When I say village, many people think they live in little huts in the middle of the woods and live off the land. Rogers looks like the middle of nowhere when you get there, but they have running water and heat. The hottest spot in Rogers is an auction and flea market park. Some people survive off what they sell at the flea market. I didn’t want that life for myself. I wanted to see the bright lights and a diverse group of people in New York City. My passion for the city wore off quickly when I realized how much I’ll pay in rent monthly. Jobs are scarce, but there is always something to do at any time of the day. I wanted the New York City excitement. My parents never accepted that. This would be the needed change in my life. I would not turn back. I’ve already made the first step. I flipped Joe’s old note over and wrote “Hello, please give me a call and clean up your mess.” I am horrible with confrontation. I would have loved to leave a note saying “We are done, you have a week to pack your stuff up” but that’s not the adult thing to do. I can’t always take the easy way out. I was ready to walk out the door until it registered that the only thing Joe has in his name is the car. I forgot a huge factor. I did pay for the past several car payments. He doesn’t have money for gas anyways. Screw it. I couldn’t stay in this house any longer. I felt the walls were closing in on me. I had no space of my own. I grabbed the car keys that were hanging on his poop emoji lanyard. Another reason why I can’t be with him on the list. I added “took the car will return ASAP” on the note and hauled my belongings down the apartment steps. The air was bitter but refreshing. I took a deep breath in and out. 15

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I could see my breath leave my body with how cold it was. I smiled remembering how my middle school friends and I would pretend we were smoking at our bus stop when it would be cool outside. I missed being able to laugh at such effortless things. My bags were packed in the trunk. This was it. I made the decision. I turned on my favorite radio station to 92.3 JC’S Pop Hits. Listening to music and being able to sing along will keep me awake. I can perform my own concert in the car. Better than Joe ever performed in the shower. I didn’t need Joe. I can make it without him.

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Chapter 3 ***

The clock read 6:21 AM. As long as everything goes smoothly, I should reach my parents at 1:00 PM. They would have already been awake for six hours and on their fourth cup of coffee. The house would be quiet. I could see my mother knitting whatever project she was on, while my dad read the newspaper. He would let out a “Huh” with anything he thought was interesting. The radio or television playing the news would be on. If the news wasn’t on, soft music would be playing. They were the standard old retired couple. I was excited to leave the apartment but unsure what I would tell my parents. I didn’t want to support their idea that I am a failure in life. I wanted no ammo in their court. No matter what I told them, they would twist it. I was never sure where our relationship went wrong. My parents were always strict. No pants, no cleavage shown, and no makeup was to be worn. I was in before dinner. Partying, sneaking out, or having boyfriends were not even a thought in high school. I wouldn’t dare disobey them for fear of what they would do. Once I graduated high school, I moved to New York City for college. My parents wanted me to stay local, but I wanted my freedom, finally. We lost touch. It never felt right to call them to share my successes. I couldn’t let it bother me. They were still my parents. I could go to their house for a night or two. They shouldn’t question me visiting. It was a smooth ride. The calories and caffeine were going down without a problem. My 90’s Pop music was blaring while I danced 17

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and sang. Spice Girls can cheer any girl up. I didn’t see any cops as I went a little over the speed limit to beat my GPS time. I was being positive and keeping all negative thoughts out of my mind for the past four hours. I only cried once but realized I had to stop. I couldn’t see the road through the tears. My phone started vibrating. It could only be one person. I still had unfinished business with Joe. I was going to be tough. I had to stand my ground. I would not give in to him pleading for me to come back. It was time for him to get a job and find somewhere to live. A music career was not in his crystal globe. I answered with a soft “Hello.” I wanted to let him do the talking. “Good morning, I feel like garbage”, Joe said. I kept quiet. He sighed and said “I guess you saw the mess. I threw away the sheets. You have to go buy new ones.” The breathing techniques that were supposed to keep me calm were not keeping me calm. I hastily said, “Why don’t you go buy some?” He giggled “They don’t accept Monopoly money at Walmart. Anyways, where are you?” Here it was the argument that I had hours to prepare for. I said “I decided I am leaving you. After your little stunt last night and forgetting my birthday, it was the last straw. I can’t be the sole provider and receive nothing in return. I don’t remember the last time you kissed me. I would have taken a high-five at this point. I can’t do it any longer. I’ll return the car to you next week after I stay at my parents for some alone time.” Joe responded calmly, “I didn’t forget your birthday; I just figured thirty-one wasn’t worth celebrating but sounds good, I will see you here next week.” “You know I said I am leaving you, right?” “Yeah, too bad but I’ll pack your stuff up and we can switch. You give me my car and I will give you your stuff.” “That apartment is in my name and you can’t afford it” “We can switch names on the lease and I will figure it out. I got to go because the baseball highlights are going to come on.” He hung up without even waiting for me to say goodbye or counter-argue. Part of me wanted to argue. I wanted to let out the worst of words and the other part wanted Joe to actually fight for me. I wanted him to cry, apologize, and come up with a better excuse for yesterday. I didn’t get either. I 18

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was left more confused and heartbroken. I thought by thirty, I would have my life figured out. I am a year late. I thought I would have the American dream of being married with a child and living in a neighborhood where people wave to one another but secretly hate each other. Although, you know you could rely on them if your house was in flames. There would be neighborhood block parties that you wonder the next morning if you said too much about your personal life. Someone’s wife is sleeping with someone’s husband but only the “in crowd” knows. Now, I am an hour away from my parents’ house with cookie crumbs all overlap and chocolate milk stain on my shirt from a speed bump that had no business being on a busy road.

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I pulled into Quickie-Mart. I don’t see how the owner must have thought that was a good name for a truck stop convenience store. I have heard stories of women standing outside of truck stop bathrooms to please truckers that stop by. I’ve never seen it, but Quickie-Mart would have been a great place to start. Stop for a snack, have a quickie, catch some herpes, and be on your way. The advertisements for cigarettes on the door looked like they were back from the 1920s with the color disappearing. The corners were drooping down. I didn’t know when the next gas station was so I had to take the chance with this one. I needed the coffee for my last hour of driving since I would only be seeing corn fields from each side of the road. The man behind the counter was wearing a tie-dye shirt and a red bandana. I could see a sliver of his faded jeans from the side of the counter. To top it off, he had a ponytail longer than I have ever been able to grow. He looked like he smelled of macaroni cheese dust and boiled hot dogs. I smiled to be polite but inside he made me feel uneasy. We were the only two people in this building. We might be the only two people in a twenty-mile radius. I was thinking of all the things that could go wrong. I’m not sure how many people would actually care enough to search for my body. I don’t think anyone would even realize I am missing. It would take a week or two for Joe to realize I wasn’t bringing back the car. Brian would assume I quit my job without notice. 20

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I walked to the coffee pots. They were stained brown with what looked to be mold growing on the sides. I wasn’t interested in getting food poisoning. If I arrived at my parents with liquids spewing from every hole, they would assume I was drunk or consumed drugs. I went to the right where the store coolers were. A sealed coffee will do the job but when opening the cooler door, it was lukewarm. Okay, no coffee for me today. I turned to the uninviting cashier and asked where the restroom was. I figured I can at least use the restroom before I finish my drive. He snarled “It’s only for paying customers.” I grabbed a pack of gum and threw it on the counter, annoyed by this occasion. He smiled with all three teeth in his mouth and said “Calm down”, which made everything worse. You never tell a woman to calm down. That’s almost as bad as telling her she is being crazy or she does indeed look fat in her jeans. I gave him the $2.27 for the overpriced pack of gum with the evilest glare I could manage. It probably resembled the face of someone constipated. He handed me a wooden rod with a key on it and pointed to the back door. I couldn’t imagine what human creatures have touched this contraption or where it has been placed while using the restroom. I unlocked the bathroom door to find one toilet and a tiny sink. There was no mirror or soap dispenser. Tiles were missing from the bathroom wall. Writing and artwork covered what tiles were left. Crumpled toilet paper lay next to the garbage can. I nervously opened the toilet lid with my shoe. Just get this done. I was squatting over the toilet, trying to not fully sit on it. I don’t need to add crabs to my list of problems. Scanning the bathroom walls to keep my mind off the burning in my legs from doing a squat, there were several engraved names and a few phone numbers. There were names with hearts around them and names with death threats. One stuck out that had “Abby + Grant” in a red thick-lined heart. A knife mark went across the heart. The knife engraved “Die slut” on the side. These two people were in love at one point. Now, one hates every ounce of the other. I know how you feel. It could also be a random person who scratched it out. I don’t see many people frequenting 21

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this truck gas stop more than once if they don’t have to. The stick figures having raunchy sex to the right side of the mangled heart took my mind to a better place. I could be that woman now having racy sex and breaking a sweat instead of the five minutes, missionary style with Joe. I don’t believe my legs could get as high as the female stick figure though. I looked at the other masterpieces on the stall. Reading the stall was like a book. It made me forget about my life and indulge in another world. It made me also forget the stomach-turning smell in the bathroom so I could complete my business. I washed my hands with cold water since, by no surprise, there was no hot water. I returned the bacteria-ridden rod to the cashier and decided to get this last hour drive done and over with. I shoved two pieces of gum in my mouth to make myself feel fresher and started the drive.

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A half-mile driveway surrounded by mammoth oak trees on each side lead to my parent’s one-story ranch home. There were no broken cracks in the paved driveway. The grass was neon green while the trees were neatly trimmed. My parents drilled “Appearance is everything” into my brain. I guess they are right. Joe and I faked happiness for the past year and none of our friends noticed. It may have been that we were drinking all the time around our friends. I seem to love everyone after a couple of mixed drinks. At the top of the driveway was a banner hanging from the post that said: “Welcome to the Kowalski Home” with a bald eagle gazing at the American flag. Next to the banner was a fake wishing well with pristine tulips and lilies. I can’t remember to dust my fake plant, let alone keep real flowers alive and watered. My parents upheld such a perfect, flawless appearance. They could not have one wilted flower petal, or their hanging banner had a dirt smudge. Ohio weather is not kind. It will be sunshine at 9:00 AM, a tornado watches at 9:30 AM, and then a snow and rain mix at 11:00 AM. The flowers must be fake. I sat in the car trying to convince myself to not turn around. I had to at least put a smile on when I see them. Mother and Father said my attitude is why I can’t make friends. I dusted the granola crumbs from my shirt and wiped my teeth with my sleeve hoping it would wipe off any yellow plaque and stepped out of the car. All I needed was a deep breath and a quick eye roll to get out of my system. Little words of encouragement could do no 23

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harm either. I didn’t want to grab my packed bag in case I had to lie about why I was there and needed a quick getaway. I had to test the waters with Mother and Father. After feeling the real flowers to convince myself, I walked up the four porch steps. I stood at the door debating whether to knock or ring. Why was this so difficult? They are my parents. They should be happy to see their daughter. Before I decided what to do, the door swung open. A teenage girl was standing there, staring at me with annoyed eyes. She sighed, and said “yeah?” Well then, not the greeting or person I was expecting. I thought should I push through and say “This is my house” or what if they don’t even live here anymore? The hanging banner says so, so I went the attitude route. “I’m sorry but I have no clue who you are. I am looking for Edward and Suzie.” The unknown girl said, “You mean Suzanne?” I said, “Where are they?” I was growing impatient. She motioned her hand into the house and muttered “Right this way.” The entryway looked the same with family photos, none of me of course, strung along the wall. My grandmother’s gold urn was still displayed on a wooden stand. The urn is always the first thing people see when entering the house. There’s a bright, white light shining on the urn. Sadly, if someone wanted to rob the house, I would recommend the urn. It’s made out of real gold and worth more than anything else in the house. I’m unsure what they would do with my grandmother. Do robbers have a heart? Would they try to pawn off my grandma’s powdery ashes as a drug to make even more of a profit? Who even thinks that? Grandma Edna was always cheerful and the center of attention in the room. Without fail, she would have the funniest jokes. Her booming laugh matched her personality. She lived six houses down from us. She was my go to when I couldn’t stand my parents. She always knew how to comfort me. Her house smelled of bleach from cleaning and homemade banana nut bread. She said it was a simple recipe that she couldn’t mess up. It may not be the best combination of smells, but anytime I smell banana nut bread or Clorox, it makes me think of Grandma Edna and the carefree, enjoyable moments 24

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we shared. She was my getaway until she passed in her sleep when I was twenty-three. I felt warm and comforted like Grandma Edna was near, forgetting about the unknown female in my childhood home. She was still behind me motioning me to move forward. I was halfway down the entryway into the kitchen before the teenager said “Mother and Father will be angry if you don’t take your shoes off at the entrance.” Show no emotion because you obviously did not hear correctly. It didn’t feel real enough to believe. I nodded my head and walked back to the door to slide off my sneakers. I heard my mother shout “Honey, hurry, your food is getting cold and we have to leave soon” from the kitchen. She was definitely not shouting to me unless she had a mother’s telepathic instinct that she has hid for over thirty years. The teenager shouted “Someone is here to see you and father.” There it was again, the mother and father name calling. Stop. My mother popped her head out of the kitchen and her eyes grew once seeing me. “Abigail, you are not supposed to answer the door unless you know who it is.” So called Abigail replied “Well, this weird lady was just staring at the door when I was going to get the mail.” Mother said “Grab the mail and leave us be for a few minutes.” Once Abigail left the room, my mother hissed “What are you doing here?” “That is not really the warm welcome I was expecting. I’m here for a visit to see how you and father are.” “We are fine.” Here comes the eye roll, don’t do it. “Yeah, obviously, and?”, as I motioned toward the front door that Abigail walked out of. My mother did her eye roll. I guess I know where it comes from. She said “Don’t you get right to things? To make things short, your father and I adopted Abigail four years ago when she was eleven years old from Ecuador. We were too old to have another child and start from the beginning. We thought adopting would be the best.” I had an evil glare on my face. She was nonchalant about all of this like she bought green apples instead of red apples. No big deal. I had several questions buzzing through my head. I wanted them answered all at once. “Why does that girl not know who I am? Why did you not tell me?” She looked away and sighed. I bet Mother did another eye roll when she looked away. “We never got to telling her 25

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about you. It’s been busy. There was no reason because she would just be interested in who you are. We haven’t seen you in over four years and we only spoke last year for a few minutes on the phone.” I stood there with a straight face. I was at a loss for words. I moved my hand to urge her to go on. She cleared her throat and said “We did not want her to be disappointed. You do not make the best choices and we do not want you to influence her with your behaviors. She is doing so well in school and extra-curricular activities. I am leaving now to take Abigail to piano lessons. You are welcome to stay for dinner. We will be home around 4:00 PM.” That was the end of the conversation. She grabbed her keys and went to the door. I stared at her with resentment and disgust. I wanted the last word before she walked out the door, but I couldn’t think of anything. I could not think of a good enough remark so she feels the same way that I am feeling right now. I still had questions. I knew they wouldn’t be answered any time soon. I sat on the couch and rested my feet on the ottoman. Another rule when I lived here, no feet on the furniture. I had no care to listen to the rules now. I needed to process everything. Parents are supposed to be your support system. Parents should always be there for you. My parents have failed me or would it be different if I would have called more? My life was falling apart too fast for me to fix. Tears came rushing out. I began wheezing like I ran a marathon. I am so out of shape that even walking up the steps would be a good comparison. I grabbed the zebra print throw from the top of the couch and cuddled into a ball. I was going to shut the world out for a few minutes. I woke up to a puddle of slobber and my mascara leaking onto my parents bright white pillows from crying. My father was standing over me in his normal attire of a bright polo and dress pants. Even with both parents being retired, they still dress well. Appearance is everything. I enjoy lounging in sweatpants and shirts that I have to smell the armpits to see if I can get away with the pit stench for another day. “Hello dear, I was not expecting to see you home.” I quickly sat up and wiped my raccoon eyes. He let out a laugh and 26

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said “It looks like you were at the bar all night, you look a mess.” I put a fake smile on and in a raspy voice “No, I came to visit.” “Well what a pleasant surprise. I am going to wash up and prepare dinner. Your mother and…” He stopped. He didn’t realize I already knew about my hidden, adopted sister. “Abigail, I already know”, I said. “Yes, Abigail. They will be home shortly. Go fix yourself up in the downstairs bathroom and we will eat together before you leave.” My parents must have the similar trait of walking away before letting the other person speak. He walked up the steps to the bedroom. His last comment made me feel even more unwelcomed if that was possible. I grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of jeans from my packed bag in the car. There was no point in bringing it in and minimizing myself anymore with having to ask my parents to stay. I would figure something out, but I needed a warm shower and to change out of these clothes. I was starting to smell stale and I could feel the bacteria multiplying in my over-a-day underwear. Before I got to the steps, I heard a phone ringing. On the dining room table was my father’s cell phone. The name came up as “Richie”, which is my father’s brother. My Uncle Richie and I have always gotten along. He is a laid-back, retired lawyer who lives in a penthouse in Las Vegas. He calls at least once a year near Christmas to see how I am and gives me an update on his extravagant lifestyle. I picked up the phone with an excited, almost screaming “Hello!” A woman responded, “Who is this?” Confused, I said “Uncle Richie?” “No, this is Reena. Where is my Eddie?” “Uh, this is his daughter. Your Eddie is in the shower” “Okay, I will call back later” and she hung up. My family doesn’t have a Reena. At this rate, she could be my other adopted sister that my parents are not telling me about. I decided to snoop through his phone to see if I can find anything. I felt like I was back in high school snooping through a boyfriend’s phone to see if he was cheating on me. There were only three text messages from Richie. I opened the thread and was greeted by a large set of tan breasts. Uncle Richie is always full of surprises but surely, he did not get breast implants. The message before that read “Miss you monkey” with my father responding “Can’t wait to be 27

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with you.” The response back was a wink face. A winking face can almost always be taken sexually. If you write “I had fun” or “I’m hungry” in a text, it sounds innocent. You add a wink face and it automatically turns into a “sext.” I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I put the phone on how I found it so I wouldn’t be caught, but as soon as I saw my father, I blurted “Your Reena called for you.” His eyes widened and he stopped moving. “Why were you on my phone?” “I don’t think I am the one under questioning. Who is she?” He stumbled on his words but he got out, “She is an old friend. Your mother doesn’t know her.” This was my time to walk away. I am the one in power, finally. I turned the corner to make my way to the basement. My father was calling my name behind me. It seemed with each step going down to the basement; his shouts grew louder when they should have been growing quieter. I still felt like the black sheep of the family, but felt like my father’s wool was slowly fading to black.

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Walking down the steps, I noticed a change in décor. It wasn’t the sophisticated, traditional décor anymore with everything as an off shade of white. The basement was bright colored-and eccentric. The walls were bright orange with large canvas paintings adorning the walls. There was a canvas with each color of the rainbow that had an encouraging quote on it. A vivid red one had “You Are Responsible For Your Own Happiness”, while a yellow one stated “Be Strong. Be Brave.” I know positive quotes are supposed to raise you up when you are feeling down, but I was past feeling down. I was rock bottom and angry at the world. I had confusion bubbling in my head. I wanted to rip them all off the wall. My muscles are lacking so I couldn’t do too much damage anyways. Maybe get a few kicks in. The room had a yoga mat laid out in the middle. A giant blue exercise ball was in the corner. There were bamboo trees throughout the room with one next to a flowing waterfall on the table. A Buddha statue sat in the midst of the waterfall. In the middle of the wooden banister on the ceiling, painted in neon green, was “Abigail’s Hideaway.” This was all for Abigail. Fucking Abigail. Other than playing the piano and being from Ecuador, the third thing I knew about her is she tries to be hip or maybe she is hip and I am far from it. My parents would not even let me paint my room from beige to light pink when I was younger. I would never dare tape a poster on the wall because it would chip the paint. My bedspread always stayed 29

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white with lace on the edges. My furniture was white along with the curtains. You would think I lived in a palace with a maid and butler until you realized you were in the middle of nowhere in Rogers, Ohio where it is a daily occurrence to see Amish in a horse and cart. If you were lucky enough, the horse did not poop while you were driving with the windows down. I heard someone slowly coming down the steps. I could only think it was my father wanting me to affirm that I wouldn’t let his whorish ways slip out. I turned to see Abigail peeking from the staircase banner. She stared with a blank face like she was confused or waiting for me to speak. We stared into one another’s eyes. I made mine bigger in a “What do you want?” way but she looked at me with vacant, expressionless eyes. Maybe she is not all there. She could be a crayon or two shy from a full box. My parents are always looking for some way to brag about their good deeds. I cleared my throat to break the awkward silence. Abigail whispered “I apologize for earlier.” I nodded my head and did a half-ass smile thinking her actions were of a normal teenager. I would have acted the same. As a teenager, I did not want anyone looking or talking to me. I only wanted my headphones plugged into my MP3 player and to lie on my bed staring at the ceiling throwing a pity party. Little did I know how much life would become worse when you were an adult. You have to wake up from your pity party to go to work. “I’d imagine this room is yours?” Her face brightened as she began to speak about the basement. “Yes, I decorated the basement to have a room that I can relax in. Mother won’t let me do anything with my bedroom, but Father convinced her to let me do what I wanted with the basement. No one really comes down here.” I smirked “How much convincing did you have to do with father? He likes to be a neat freak like a mother.” It felt weird talking to someone calling the same people “Mother” and “Father.” I feel like I should know everything about this girl since the day she was born. We should have baby photos together while in the bathtub and memorable scars from playing together. “Um, Father and I made a bet and he lost. He had to convince Mother.” Just then, Father 30

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shouted, “Abigail, I need you in the kitchen.” She smiled and started to walk up the steps. I wanted to continue talking but couldn’t be a bad influence already and say not to go upstairs. I went through the back entrance of the basement where the tiny bathroom was. I was ready to wash this depression off me. Plus, my hair was well beyond using dry shampoo. There was enough grease to cook bacon for a Sunday morning breakfast rush at Denny’s. I started the shower at the hottest temperature I knew I could handle. The level of hotness where you get out of the shower and your skin looks like sunburn in patches. I made sure to use loads of shampoo and conditioner. My parents are thriftless about the skin products that they don’t use. I used handfuls, not only because it made me feel cleaner but because I felt like I was disobeying my parents by being wasteful. I can still have a teenage mentality. The shower was my time to think in peace and relax. Some of my best ideas were created in the shower. I was alone with only the sound of water falling. I closed my eyes to feel the water run down my face until a repulsive thought crossed my mind. My Father kissed the neck of a slim, blonde-haired woman with huge breasts, which is the usual image that Hollywood plays for all home-wreckers and girl next-door fantasies. How many times? It was enough for her to be attached. What type of name is Reena anyways? It reminds me of rectal. Reena Rectal. The hot water began to chill. I was avoiding my family. There was no way I could leave without being seen unless I opened the bathroom window to shimmy out. With my thighs, it was not happening. I would get stuck halfway then my parents would have to call the firefighters to pull me out like a dry tampon when you haven’t realized your period stopped. You have to wiggle it out and bare the pain. I also imagine all firefighters look like the ones on the calendars. Muscle on muscle, glistening skin, perky pecks, and the mysterious look like is he going to take me to dinner and give me the best sex of my life? I was not ready for the ordeal of needing to be saved stuck in a window. Slowly, I put on my clean clothes. Mostly because I hate putting 31

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on clothes while still having damp skin. I already felt better after a hot shower. I felt like a new woman with a clean canvas on my face for make-up and clothes that did not smell of truck stop convenience store. Before I made it up the steps, I overheard my mother shouting. “Look at this, they are ruined,” My father said to throw it in the washing machine, and they will be as good as new. My mother sighed. I entered the room and saw her holding the white pillows with bits of my mascara smeared on. Before I could even apologize, she glared and said with disgust “Completely worthless.” My father intervened before a catfight could break out. “Let’s eat some dinner and forget about it.” I kept my mouth shut because I was unsure of my next move. Do I travel back to the apartment that I no longer verbally own or do I stay here and suck up all this bullshit? Abigail entered the room with a plate of stuffed banana peppers, while my mother pouted at the dining room table with her arms crossed. My father interrupted the silence by asking Abigail how her piano lessons were. After Abigail responded with the normal teenager answer of “good”, he began talking about his day of afternoon drinks and tennis with his old co-workers. He bragged about how he won three games in a row and his old age cannot handle all the running back and forth. My mother took the lies in and nodded her head with a smile on her face. I was impressed with how great my father was at lying. I caught Abigail rolling her eyes. She must have heard his stories enough that she was bored with them. He only stopped babbling when his phone started ringing. He glanced at it and stood up quickly. “Richie is calling to give me an update about his cancer.” My mother shooed him off and said “Of course dear, you must get that.” I was astonished that my Uncle having cancer was not something my parents would have mentioned or when I spoke to Uncle Richie on Christmas that he would have told me. I was not speaking to my mother so I waited for my father to return to ask him more questions. “No one told me Uncle Richie has cancer, what kind?” My father said “He has lung cancer but he should be fine, he does not like to talk about it.” “Well, I spoke to him on Christmas and he didn’t say anything about it. How long has he known?” Worry 32

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grew in my voice. Uncle Richie was the only family member that truly accepted me. “For a couple months but do not bring it up with him, he is sensitive about his condition.” Right there, I knew it was a cover-up. I thought the real Uncle Richie was calling him. Uncle Richie was an open book with no filter. He once told me his “knackers” hurt because he zipped them up while putting on jeans. Uncle Richie turned him zipping his testicles in his jeans into a life lesson. He said “Never be in a hurry. You saw what happened to me. Be in the present because the future comes quick.” He turned many things into a life lesson. Some of his words of wisdom were meaningful while others were frivolous. He would not keep anything hidden. I wanted my father in the spotlight for using a family member as a distraction. I asked my father “Did they say how long his treatment would be or is there anything they believe that caused it?” I smiled at my Father. He knew that I picked up on his lie, but still played it off. “No, he doesn’t mention things like that. He just keeps me updated.” “Well, have you visited him or sent money to help him out? He is probably hard on cash with all those medical bills.” My mother jumped in and said “Yes, your father is not a bad man. He took a week trip to visit him and sends him money monthly so he can continue to live his lavish lifestyle.” I had to laugh at the stupidity of them all. Uncle Richie has more money than all of us put together times two. My Mother should have figured out that he wouldn’t accept money either. An enormous amount of confidence grew in me. I am not the good-for-nothing daughter they believe I am. I distanced myself from my own parents without me even knowing because I knew I was better off without them. My mother chimed in on my actualization, feel good moment to tell me cancer is not a laughing matter. I chuckled and said “Neither is your husband porkin’ a hussy.” Her face grew red while my father’s grew pale. Abigail whispered “I promise I did not say anything” while looking at the ground like she was the one that had her world turned upside down. I felt the need to comfort Abigail but knew my statement needed more explaining to my Mother. “You need to have a talk with your husband and stop 33

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thinking I am the worthless one.” I pointed to my father “And you need to own up to your mistakes” My mother muttered “Enough” and stood up slowly like every emotion and breath was taken from her. She pushed her chair in and disappeared around the corner to go up the steps. My father still pale followed her without saying one word. I looked at Abigail with her head still looking at the ground and asked how she knew the affair was going on. She said “I saw them at the mall together. I was with friends. He let me have the basement to decorate any way I wanted so I would not say anything.” What a disgusting man to bribe your daughter. The vain thought of wondering why he did not try to bribe me ran through my head. I would like to think I would not take the bribe, but I do like money. I finished my dinner in silence with Abigail. It was not how I expected the first time meeting my sister would go. I knew we could not have a friendship or sisterhood until both of our lives were figured out. We were not close enough to care about one another and each other’s problems. Her life is currently crashing down with her parents divorcing or living in misery with one another. My mother would hold a grudge against Abigail for keeping a secret. I have freed myself from my parents mentally this time. I don’t need their egotistical, abusive mentality. It was a weight off me. A hot shower and wiping my hands free of my parents, are two small things that have made me realize I can start fresh in this world by myself. I decided to leave without saying goodbye. I am wiping my hands clean of that mess. While walking to my car, I thought of one of Uncle Richie’s words of wisdom sayings “It doesn’t do no harm to be your own good luck charm.” And I was going to do just that, I was going to change my misfortunes into something positive. Adrenaline was racing through me. It felt like espresso was running through my veins. I was taking control. I was ready to make myself happy. I would have to put all this on hold until I finish up my duties back home. If Joe wanted to ruin me, he could have reported his car stolen. My background is clean other than two street sweeping violations. I sent Joe a quick text that said “Will be there late tonight to return the car” so I don’t turn up on the Most Wanted list for 34

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vehicle theft. After that, I started my seven-hour drive back to New York with no goodbyes and no second guesses.

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Chapter 7 ***

After four bathroom stops, which included one on the side of the road in Pennsylvania, and two fast food stops, I saw the place I used to call home at 2 AM. I saw the place where I had moments of laughing that I let a little pee slip out and where I shared moments of pure passion and intimacy with a man I loved and never doubted our future. This apartment was where we spent years experiencing some of our greatest achievements and delight. We were supposed to plan a wedding, have our first child, and celebrate buying a house. Now, I have such dread of even seeing the building. I could vomit the 3 double bacon cheeseburgers and two large fries that I emotionally ate. My phone showed no new messages. I assumed Joe would have at least sent a “K” because he knows how much that annoys me. I gathered my garbage of fast food bags and made my way to the front door. It was dark inside and smelled as if a skunk had intercourse with a sweaty, musty long-haired armpit. There were clothes lying everywhere. I don’t mean just the furniture. There was a piece of clothing on the sink, on the window seal, and a few socks under the dining room table. An empty pizza box was on the floor next to the coffee table. It must have taken too much space since there needed to be room for the various assortments of empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the coffee table. In one of the shot glasses was a tiny blunt. Joe picked up a new hobby in less than a weekend. I’ve only smoked weed once, but that was enough for me. I coughed like I was giving 36

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a violent blowjob then after a little while, became paranoid. Even though we were in a fenced-in backyard with the neighbors being over 2 miles away, I thought the cops were hiding behind trees and there would soon be a helicopter with a light shining on me and shouting my name. After fifteen minutes, I was sound asleep. I filled two suitcases full of my belongings. I grabbed everything from the closet, even though I only wear maybe three tops and a few jeans out of all this. I couldn’t forget my retainer, which I should be wearing nightly, and Mr. Buzz Lightyear. I did name my vibrator and put a lot of thought into it. He is green and you can figure out the rest. There have been times that I ruined my own mood by him about to enter the dark cave and think “To infinity and beyond.” There is no going back after you quote a children’s movie. Although, once I am able to complete my task with him, I don’t mind him saying “I’m proud of you cowboy.” We have a special bond. After two hours, I was exhausted but finished packing. One of the biggest positives about living in New York is you can get a taxi or ride service at any time of the day and night. I was seconds late from leaving because I heard the front door open. I heard multiple voices. I recognized one as Joe’s friend nicknamed Banger. I never cared to learn his real name because I didn’t think Banger and I would ever be good pals. I heard a giggle. This was no man’s giggle. I poked my head out of the bedroom. Joe and Banger were standing with two females. I know I am supposed to play the jealous ex-girlfriend card but the two females standing in front of me were nothing to be jealous about. I had more teeth than both of them combined and sometimes more clothes are better especially when your breasts are looking at the ground and your thighs are trying to escape your denim skirt. You ever look at a person and just know they need a shower? I came from the darkness and said “Hello.” It didn’t come out as powerful and strong as I would have liked but it got their attention. Joe looked as if he didn’t know who I was or waiting for me to speak more. Joe finally said, “Ladies, you remember I was telling you how my sister is moving out and Banger moved in.” One of the girls 37

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walked toward me with her hand out. She slurred “Hi Greta, it is so nice to meet you.” Joe gave me the face of please play along. He couldn’t have been creative enough and given another fake name. It had to be our dead neighbor of fewer than 72 hours. Old me, 48-hour-old me would have run out of there embarrassed and upset which is what he was expecting but I am supposed to be a more positive, life-fulfilling me. I smiled and gently shook the girl’s hand. I had to remember to wash my hand thoroughly later. I grabbed my lanyard with the apartment key on it. “I better give you your key back. Thank you for letting me borrow the car and visit our parents.” He graciously smiled but I could tell he was nervous. “They are fine, but they are upset about how you have been treating me when I was just trying to help” I had the girls caught on a hook while Joe was on edge. Banger probably did not even know where he was. He was spaced out on whatever drug ten dollars got him. One girl with a raspy voice that sounded like she’s been chain-smoking since eleven said “Is everything okay?” Reel it in girl. “Yes, I moved in because Joe kept wetting the bed. He has severe night terrors. I have to check the closet and bed for scary monsters. I have been changing his diapers at night but he gets just so angry with me. I guess you should know this since you are here. Make sure when he wakes up, you don’t make direct eye contact.” And that was it. The girls just stared at me. Banger was now staring at me but he was not in the present world. Joe was straight-faced. It was my que to leave before the wrath of Joe came out. I grabbed the two suitcases and headed out. I would have loved to see the aftermath. I ordered an Uber that was six minutes away. That was six minutes I had to find an address of where to stay for the night. The homeless shelter was more in my budget but luckily there are credit cards. I picked the first hotel with a free breakfast. It would be one less thing to worry about in the morning. I don’t mind the goopy, powdered eggs and mystery meat sausage that hotels serve for breakfast. In my mind, it’s an added bonus. The car showed up and the driver looked like he was not going to harvest my organs so I put the only belongings I had in the trunk 38

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and buckled up. I took a last look at the apartment before pulling away. It didn’t spark any emotions. It looked like any other building to me. I was ready to end that chapter in my life.

39

Chapter 8 ***

I bet you’ve never taken the time to smell sperm. Maybe you have and you know exactly what it smells like, but for me, walking into my motel room was my first idea of what it would smell like. A bitter aroma with a dab of salt and sweat. My salary doesn’t allow extravagant hotels or even hotels that are cleaned daily. I couldn’t imagine what creatures and stains are lurking in the room. A black light would tell all but sometimes the unknown is better. The motel was sporting a 1980s look with dark green carpets, brown floral bedspread, and a television as heavy as the desk it sits upon. I lay on top of the bedspread. I wasn’t ready for any surprise underneath. Hesitantly, I looked under the bed and in the closet to make sure there was no one hiding in there. I had too much running through my head. Check out was in less than eight hours, meaning I had less than eight hours to figure out my life because my bank account did not want to spend another eighty dollars on hotel sperm bank. I had 31 years to figure out my life and I couldn’t even do that. Brian would be expecting me at work in a few hours too. I don’t know how normal I could act at work. I haven’t brushed my teeth in 2 days and I don’t know which pocket the toothbrush is hiding in, or if it’s even in a pocket. I started to slide off the bed to start my search when I heard laughing through the wall. It wasn’t cute, tiny girl laughing. It was a deep, belly laugh. It could have been a “That’s a funny show” laugh or “I’m going to murder you” laugh. I jumped as a large thud echoed through the wall. I was frozen in my 40

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spot. Do I call for help? Another large thud and a deep voice said “You better shut the hell up.” That’s it, there’s a murder next to me. After all the true crime murder mysteries and investigation shows I’ve watched, it’s happening. I am going to be on a show telling my side of the story and how greatly devastated I am. I will need to get psychological help for years. Another booming thud. “What are you going to do about it?” said the deep voice again. Well, I know I won’t sit around. I could be a hero. I could have my face all over the newspapers how I saved someone’s life, obviously with my teeth brushed. Still frozen, like the man would hear me and come busting through the door like the Kool-Aid man, I slowly glided to the phone on the nightstand. I pressed “0” for the front desk. An older gentleman that sounded like he was asleep picked up. “Front Desk, How can I help you?” “Hi, I’m in room 212 and I believe there is a violent altercation to my left.” Calmly, the man said “I’ll be up in a little. Goodbye.” Click. There is someone possibly being eaten alive and there is no hurry? Multiple thuds this time but faster and faster. A scream from a female pierced through the walls. I had enough. I was going to pound on the door. I grabbed the first weapon I could find, the plunger. I didn’t even think of all the leftover feces caked on or how many unwashed hands touched the handle. All I knew is that it is a hard stick that I could smack or stab someone with. I fast walked out of my room, took a breath, and pounded on the door. I waited and waited. It felt like forever but not even a minute went by according to my cell phone. The door swung open and that is when I got my first look at BDSM. I’ve seen the category on porn sites and some short clips as advertisements but I never thought I would see it in person. I never thought people actually did BDSM for fun or pleasure. I thought it was just for views on porn sites. An overweight pale, almost computer-paper white, hairy chested man in his 40s took off his leather mask while holding a metal chain in one hand and a leather tasseled whip in the other hand. His smile was so normal and nonchalant like what he was doing compared to pumping gas or ordering a cheeseburger at McDonalds. He stood 41

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naked other than tight, form fitting underwear. I couldn’t help but glance down at his bulge. Does his penis even have enough room to have an erection or at least a sub-chub? It must be so squished in there. With a smile still on his face, he said “Hiya mam, sorry if we were being too loud. Sometimes the old lady and I forget other people stay in this garbage pit.” A woman peeked around the corner of the door. She sported a leather choker necklace but at least she was covered with a towel. “We will keep it down dear. This is our once in a blue moon date night away from the kids.” I wonder if their children know what crazy animals they are. Where do they hide these toys so the children don’t find them? I would be scarred if I found any type of whip in my parents’ bedroom. I was trying to put my head down; ashamed that I ruined their evening but I felt if I looked down, the man would think I am staring at his junk. I attempted a smile but I could feel my face burning up with embarrassment. I was stuttering over my words and speaking quietly. “It’s no problem; I like the company knowing I am not alone in this place.” My statement didn’t help the situation. Now he thinks I am looking for an invite. The man and woman nodded with a half-smile on and I could tell they were waiting for me to leave. I started walking away and said, “Goodnight, see you later.” I shut my motel door and closed my eyes. What is wrong with me? See you later. I made it sound like I would be back over with my bondage material and ready for a fun-filled night. I lay back on the bed and shut my eyes to play repeatedly what just happened. Four missed calls and seven texts. The alarm clock next to me had 10:34 AM. Crap, it was almost checkout time. Brian had been trying to get ahold of me. More importantly, I missed breakfast. My body did not want to move. Stiff joints must be the new gift with turning tthirty-one It could also be the mattress had to at least be twenty years old. I wobbled my way to the bathroom, still questioning if what I saw was real last night. My body feels like I took a beating last night too. I can’t imagine how the couple next door is feeling. . I was hoping I wouldn’t run into them during checkout. I squatted over the toilet, still upset I fell asleep last night without 42

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at least brainstorming my future plans. I can’t bring my suitcases to work. I already don’t look like I belong there with all the rich, welldressed people in that building. Everyone has gone through rough spots so Brian, Regina, and Donovan would have to understand. I found my work clothes and toothbrush which of course were underneath everything else. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. I am supposed to be thinking positively and realizing life only goes up from here but I felt I had a long road ahead. People were already on their second child or second marriage at my age. It is hard to be positive when there is a thin, brownish hair only centimeters from where you laid your toothbrush staring at you. Deep down, I knew it was a pubic hair that did not belong to me but I lied to myself and said it was from my nose or eyebrow. After brushing my teeth and rinsing my face, I felt better. I was slowly becoming human. Three minutes until my Uber got here and two minutes until check out. I was making good time. In less than six minutes, I was able to brush my teeth, rinse my face, put on work clothes, order an Uber, and be out the door. My Uber was a college-aged man who rather text and drive than interact with me at all. I didn’t mind because I had a reason to not tip him and if he crashed, I would at least have an excuse as to why I was late. Positive thinking. No crash and I was seated at my desk by 11:19 AM. Brian nor Regina were nowhere in sight. I slid my suitcases under my desk. Donovan had headphones in. He was bobbing his head and playing the finger drums. I knew he wouldn’t notice me strolling in. He can’t focus on more than one task. A little after an hour of catching up on work, Donovan came back to reality. He shouted across the room “What’s up?” I responded with the same phrase every working person says “Just living the dream.” “I hear you, Want to grab lunch?” I knew my eyes and face showed joy. I could feel the crow’s feet around my eyes scrunching up. Even though Donovan was almost ten years younger, I haven’t been asked to go anywhere in years by a man. I felt like a freshman teenage girl who had just sprouted boobs but still had remnants of acne and sported braces. My self-esteem 43

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was slowly rising but not yet at the “I can stop tugging at my shirt to hide my belly fat” phase. Donovan was the senior football player who even though he drove a rusted-out 1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass, had his own ride and every young teenage girl likes an older, more experienced man. I was awoken by my fantasy when I heard Regina come up behind me saying “Sweetie, is everything alright? We missed you at the training today.” Get out of here old lady and leave me to my fantasies. Grinning, I said “I am okay Regina, just didn’t feel well this morning. What was the training about?” “Well bless your heart for still showing up today! The attorney’s office upstairs invited all of Bass Insurance to attend their sexual harassment training. No one wants to eye up my old self but I got free donuts” “Why didn’t Donovan go? He has been here the whole time.” “Donovan or Brian didn’t attend. Donovan said he doesn’t have to attend and Brian said he had a meeting to attend at the Grand Hotel Plaza.” Yes, in one of Brian’s meetings that he never comes back with a finalized sale or even a real potential customer for insurance that we can follow up with. After my conversation with Regina, I wasn’t sure if the lunch offer with Donovan was still on the table. He probably found a new woman to eat lunch with. I know what I wanted on the table though; my bare cheeks with Donovan impaling me. Isn’t the normal thing to do after a breakup is to have a rebound? He has had so many women hooked on him and bringing him lunches and sweets that he must be doing something right. I knew nothing serious would come of this fantasy. He wouldn’t be my future husband or baby dad unless of course the condom broke, but the excitement and thrill made me want it. I desired to feel touched. I glanced toward him and shouted “Wow! I’m hungry” hoping he didn’t have the memory of a goldfish. Without turning to look at me, he said “Cool, five minutes. Sushi sound good?” I hated sushi and anything fish but I agreed. I finished up my last email and walked into the bathroom to “freshen up”. That really meant dryly shave my vagina and not worry about the bloody nicks it created. I knew I was over thinking this lunch offer but I wanted to be prepared. Donovan 44

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has at least two different women show up a week. After scrubbing my vagina with paper towels to make sure any abnormal odor was eliminated, I went back to my desk to watch Donovan discreetly out of the corner of my eye to see when he was ready. I didn’t want to look eager. Finally, he got up from his chair. I waited a few seconds then I got up. I thought maybe if I act annoyed and I didn’t care that it would be a turn on. I was wrong. “Are you feeling okay?” “Yes, just over the week already.” He didn’t put on his coat or grab his wallet. He started walking towards the entrance. I hope he doesn’t think I am going to pay. He isn’t that good looking. Never mind, I could see the outline of his muscles through his shirt when he pressed the elevator button. He is worth a lunch on my credit card. I believe I still have a credit card with just Joes name on the account. The elevator went to floor three. Floor three is the community lunch room. I followed him to the refrigerator where he pulled out two pre-packaged sushi containers. “It was a BOGO deal today since they expire tomorrow. I can’t eat that much sushi and you looked like you were having an off day. I figured you didn’t pack your lunch.” A soft thank you was mustered out with my head down. I felt like I was going to cry. Is it even okay to feel this sad and disappointed about not getting a dicking from a gorgeous man? I had more important things going on in my life and I was upset about this. Yes, I was allowed to feel this way. I have enough on my shoulders. I wasn’t asking for much. Damnit, I am at least a four out of ten. Donovan patted the chair near him like a “c’mon boy, come sit here.” I started to pull the chair out but I felt my body turning back towards the elevator. Without a word, I walked away. I’m not sure if Donovan said something but my mind became numb. The elevator traveled to floor 13. I was in robot mode. I walked past Regina without a word or smile. I gathered the few items on my desk and wrote on a sticky note “I quit.” I stuck it on Brian’s door and walked out with my belongings. I was done.

45

Chapter 9 ***

I found myself at JFK airport with a one-way ticket to Las Vegas. I called Uncle Richie in the cab on the way over. He sounded ecstatic to have me visit. I didn’t get into all the details of why I was coming with such short notice, mostly for the cab driver’s sake, but Uncle Richie didn’t question it. While I sat on the airplane waiting for takeoff with my $6 Dasani water and $4 bag of M&Ms, I couldn’t help but feel relieved. I prayed to the Gods above that I wouldn’t have a seatmate. I was already blessed with a window seat so I couldn’t ask for more. This could be my mid-life crisis and I was totally f ’ing up or it was my much-needed new beginning. I was flying away from all my stress of work, Joe, and my parents. A man that looked to be my age made eye contact with me and back down at his boarding pass. He said, “I guess this is my seat.” I half smiled with shyness and looked out the window. He was almost a ten out of ten on my scale. He was over six feet but scrawny. I need to be able to knead my hands into a man’s belly. I am always cold and need that warmth from blubber. Full head of brown hair combed to the side with a matching mustache and groomed beard with deep blue eyes. He looked well put together like he has an important job or maybe that’s just because he is wearing a blue collared shirt and khakis. A collared shirt could make anyone look more sophisticated. Here I am imagining if he’s good enough for me while he’s just my airplane seatmate. I glance over and he’s scrolling through Facebook. No wedding ring. 46

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During takeoff, I asked my seatmate if he would like a piece of gum. He responded with “No, thank you.” He closes his eyes and puts his head back on the chair. Dang, he’s going to sleep this whole flight. At this point, I just want a decent conversation in my life. After we were allowed to get our electronics back out, he went back on Facebook. I tried to glance at what he was doing on Facebook just to live through someone else’s life, but he catches me. He tries to make me being caught less awkward by smiling and saying “I hate flying.” “Yeah, I hate being so close to people. Not that you’re bad to sit next to, but I have some bad flying experiences.” I feel my face turning red. It’s one of the negatives about being so pale. He nods his head “This is my first time flying.” “I hope it’s a smooth one for you”, I said. After he thanked me, he went back to his phone. It was the most normal, adult conversation I had in a week, but I craved more. The flight attendant made her way to our row for drinks and snacks. There were less than 30 minutes of the flight left, but I still ordered vodka and cranberry. The mystery man asked her to make that two and told her to put both on his credit card. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that” I said. “It’s my treat for being my first flying partner,” he said with a smile on his face. I couldn’t help but gleam. We sat sipping our drinks in silence just looking around the plane with him glancing at his phone every few minutes. It felt like we both wanted to say something but didn’t know what. We started our descent and still no more words were spoken until he accidentally dropped his phone on the floor. He let out an “oh shit.” When he bent down to pick it up, I could see the brand Calvin Klein on his fluorescent orange underwear. Maybe he has a decent job to afford name-brand underwear, or he found them at Goodwill. Most of my name-brand clothes are from thrift stores. Hopefully, he made sure there were no skid marks if he got them at Goodwill. Once he sat back up, he smiled at me. The plane was slowly emptying with everyone grabbing their bags. My time was up. No romantic rendezvous. I had a delectable man sitting next to me. I couldn’t even make conversation. I wasn’t going to let my anxiety get the best of me. 47

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We were now squeezed together standing in line on the airplane with him in front of me. The first thing that blurted out of me was “What brought you to New York?” He turned his head around like he was surprised I was speaking to him. “I was in town for my Grandma’s funeral.” My mouth just stayed open but my eyes showed my condolences. I couldn’t get any words out. “No need to say anything. I knew it was coming so I was prepared.” I said “I am really sorry.” There was silence. Once we walked of the jet way bridge, he said “I’m Kelvin by the way. Maybe I’ll see you around?” I felt arms scoop me up and half twirl all 180 pounds of me. Uncle Richie was behind me shouting my name. “You made it! How was the flight? Did you have a few drinks? Eat enough stale peanuts?” While trying to answer all his questions, I was still side eyeing where Kelvin went, but he was gone. I would be frightened too of Uncle Richie’s excitement. He was always cheerful and upbeat. The Las Vegas heat hit me in the face, stepping outside the airport. It was immediate sweating. “Here’s my baby” he said showing me his teeny car. “She looks nice Uncle Richie. I didn’t think you’d be at the airport waiting for me.” Uncle Richie said “Of course my dear. Your father already called me and said you were going through a rough patch. I wanted to be the first to greet you in the lovely world of Vegas.” I rolled my eyes but smiled. My father probably only called to cover his story up about Reena and put everything on me. “I’ve had a few ups and downs. I thought a trip here would help sort some things out” I said hoping he would believe my lie of it’s been all downs and I need completely picked up. Uncle Richie gave me another hug before he opened my door and took my bag. “You’ve come to the right place dear.”

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Chapter 10 ***

Once we reached Uncle Richie’s penthouse or “Master Richards Love shack” as Uncle Richie jokingly calls it, stepping inside was an architectural holy grail. The place was immaculate. Opening the front door, a view of the Las Vegas strip hits you. A clear crystal like spiral steps leading to the second floor was to the right. Dazzling white and blue marble flooring, statues as large as me, and walls that displayed artwork with bright colors. I have only seen places like this on movies. Uncle Richie could tell I was impressed when I just stopped dead center to look around me to take it all in. With a warm tone, he said “Follow me to your bedroom.” The room was almost the size of my old apartment back in New York. I was afraid to touch anything. “Rest up before dinner. We eat at 6:00 PM” Uncle Richie said closing my door. Uncle Richie has always been a people person. He knows when people need space and I need a second or a thousand. There were three doors in the bedroom. Two were walk-in closets and one was a full bathroom. Correction, this is much larger than my old apartment back home. There was a glass shower and a Jacuzzi tub in the private bathroom. Everything was so elegantly decorated in gold and cream colors. I wouldn’t dare put my lumpy suitcases on the neatly made bed. The Nevada heat was brutal so I changed into cleaner jeans and a shirt. It was nice to lie on a bed that you know doesn’t have bed bugs. I was exhausted after today but I couldn’t get Kelvin out of my 49

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mind. We didn’t share anything special but it was a nice moment. Plus, he was amazingly good-looking. I pulled up the note section on my phone to make goals for myself for this trip. I couldn’t waste any time. I wrote “1. Have relations.” Backspace, I’m not Bill Clinton. “1. Get poked.” I can keep it G-rated. “2. Celebrate your birthday how I want to”, “3. Job” I plan to go back to New York but need a job first. I can stay with my friend, Stacey until I get an apartment. It felt good having a plan and this was all for me. I’m not making Joe, my parents, Brian, no one happy, just me. My timeline: two weeks. First, download all dating apps. I don’t know anyone in Las Vegas and completing my first goal will be almost impossible with my social anxiety. I started downloading all the ones that popped up with the highest reviews. Bumble, Hinge, Tinder, HER, Jswipe, Match…. Get em’ all. I then started reading the description of each one. Some are solely used for Jewish people while others are known just for marriage. I would hate to disappoint a Jewish man when I show up and I don’t know one ounce of their religion. Tinder it is. I deleted the rest. I haven’t used tinder since before Joe but it’s like nothing changed. My fingers were speed demons going left and right. It was invigorating to judge people based on a couple of pictures and a short few sentences about themselves. After an hour, I went through every guy within a 10-mile radius. After another hour, I swiped through all guys within 22 miles. Every time I increased a mile, I kept thinking maybe I’ll find Kelvin. Just one more mile, but maybe he’s only on there looking for guys so he wouldn’t pop up anyways. I messaged a few guys back and forth. Some were promising and some I cut off immediately. I’m a sucker for ingenuity but not common corny pickup lines. I started heading down for dinner and I heard several voices. Uncle Richie was surrounded by 3 gorgeous women. All four of them were chatting away and didn’t realize that I came downstairs. I cleared my throat to get their attention. Uncle Richie said “Ladies, this is my fabulous niece. She’s here to stay as long as she would 50

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like.” I didn’t feel that last part was necessary but I smiled at them and said it was nice to meet all of them. I still wasn’t sure if I was interrupting anything so I just stood at the end of the stairs until Uncle Richie explained that they were the ones who we can think for dinner and keeping the house clean. I still felt awkward but I said thank you. The three beauties served us chicken marsala and red wine. They ate with us and all chatted freely about what they did last weekend. After listening quietly, I learned the shorter brunette with definite lip injections but natural beauty was called Jade, the blonde with Pamela Anderson knockers was called Kandi, and the very slender brunette with the only meat on her was her bodacious buttocks was Kitty. If they could mutate together, they would be the perfect pornstar. The four of them were like best friends. Jade finally spoke to me asking what my night plans were. I told her I was a little jetlagged and planned to just sleep and start fresh tomorrow but she insisted I go to Blue Agave Club with them. She spoke of it like I should be a frequent flyer there. After my 5th “No I’m okay” and Uncle Richie recommending I get out, I decided I would go. I had no clue what the Las Vegas scene was like. I planned to keep my blue jeans and old high school t-shirt on but the beauties laughed at that. They practically ransacked my suitcases and decided none of my clothes were good enough. One beauty brought in a fitted bright blue dress with light brown suede heels. The other beauty brought back a curling iron and a bag of makeup. All three girls went to work on me like a science experiment. I was open to their recommendations. After 30 minutes, the end result didn’t look like me. I was speechless in the mirror. I didn’t look like such an oompa loompa next to them. I’ve been too nervous to even wear shorts in 90 degree weather. I haven’t had this confidence boost in a while. I don’t think it was the makeup or clothes. It was getting out of my comfort zone. It was trying something new. I looked amazing. I couldn’t help but smile at this gorgeous woman in front of me. In the back of my head, I wish Joe could see me now. I wish he could see what he lost and couldn’t get his life together for. 51

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Uncle Richie was on the couch with his nightly whiskey and cigar when we all walked down the staircase. He jumped up and said “You all look fabulous.” He came over to me and kissed my forehead. “I know you’re tired but a night out to forget everything is needed to start fresh”, He said with a father like tone. I’m not sure how true that is, but let’s go with it. A limousine was waiting in the front of the building for us. A plump man with slicked back hair opened the limousine door for us. He nodded his head at each of us as we entered the limousine. I’ve never felt so fancy or pampered in my life. The limousine was lit with LED lights around the interior. Champagne glasses hung neatly above bottles of various liqueurs. The seats were leather which didn’t go well with my short dress. I knew any sweating would leave my legs sticking to the seats. I felt like I was a part of the beauties. They bombarded me with questions about New York and what the city was like. I was surprised they never visited. New York didn’t seem special to me, but maybe that’s because I lived there for years. I loved the attention and feeling like people actually cared. “How long are you visiting Rich?” asked Kandi. “I plan to stay for at least two weeks and then go back to New York” I said. It was my plan and I was hoping I could stick to it. The girls sounded like robots all simultaneously saying “Aww.” “You can stay as long as you’d like” said Kitty with a head nod from Jade. My face scrunched a little, not wanting to hear the answer, when I asked “Do you all live there?” I want to think my Uncle Richie just has these women come to cook and clean then leave. They all laughed looking at each other. I didn’t need my answer or want to know more. Blue Agave had a line outside the door. The people wrapped around the building waiting to be allowed in. I thought one of the girls would recommend we go elsewhere but the plump limousine driver said he would be back at 2:00 AM at this same spot. I haven’t been out that late in almost two years since I threw Joe a surprise birthday party. He was late for the party because he slept in. Not to mention, it was at 6:00 PM. 52

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I followed like a lost puppy behind the girls to the front of the line while people glared at us from the line. One guy shouted “Dumb bitches think they can cut” while Kandi flipped him off and laughed. I didn’t say anything. I was out of my normal territory. The bouncer stood up when we got to him. He was at least 6’7. His arms were the size of my head and covered in tattoos that I couldn’t make out what they were. The lamppost made his bald head shine and glisten. I was waiting for a rude remark but his straight face went into a smile. It was Satan turning into a teddy bear. “My sweet Isabella” he said as he kissed Jade on the cheek. “Katherine, Blair, baby girls, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a week.” “We took a little break from the nightlife. We brought Richs niece. She’s here as our plus one. All good?” replied what I thought was Jade but the bouncer was calling her Isabella. As the bouncer opened the rope, he nodded and replied “That’s fine, but be safe. Stay out of trouble.” I stayed completely silent waiting on them to explain their name change but we all walked in the club straight to the bar. Kandi or whoever shouted four of something to the bartender. There were two levels to the club from what I saw. Strobe lights were dancing their way back and forth while a DJ was on a stage. You could feel the music vibrating through your body. A mix of pop and hip and hop blared through the club while hundreds of people were crowded on the dancefloor. You could almost taste the sweat and alcohol. The beauties were dancing in place waiting for their drinks. I tried to sway my hips and smile so I looked like I was enjoying myself. I knew I had to look awkward. I never had much rhythm. I was handed a mojito and Jade shouted “follow” in my ear. We went to the second floor where there were over fifteen couches facing a stage. A tinier DJ booth was set up. There were only a few spotlights on this dancefloor but no one was dancing. The DJ was getting his mic set up. We all sat at a couch that had a reserved sign, but Kitty wasn’t with us. I wasn’t too worried because she was complaining of already having to pee while we were in the limousine. She was probably in the restroom. Females normally travel in packs 53

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so I’m surprised she didn’t ask one of us to accompany her. It was a little quieter on this floor other than the DJ introducing himself. I decided to speak up to ask about what happened outside. “What’s up with the bouncer?” “That’s Jeffrey. We have known him for about 3 years. He always has our backs” replied Jade. Before I could clarify what I meant, I hear “Let’s welcome Ms. Kitty to the stage.” Kitty walked out with a sheer white robe and a pink bikini underneath. There isn’t much left for imagination. The music starts and she began slowly taking off the sheer white robe. She would take a little off, put a little back on, and then take it off. Finally, the robe falls to the floor. Every male in the audience is sitting near the stage with big eyes and watching every move. Someone could yell “fire” and no male in this room would move. Every lady bit is spewing from the bikini. Men are holding money in the air as she graciously glides towards them. Jade whispers to Kandi “I knew Blair would look amazing in that.” Kandi nodded her head and replied, “Girl, she should have bought it in all the colors!” I didn’t know if I should watch to be a good friend or turn away because this was not something I am interested in. I hope we don’t make eye contact. I don’t see why Uncle Richie or any three of them thought I would be interested in this. Kandi nudged me and jokingly said, “Do you want to get up there next?” I laughed and hope she wasn’t serious. I was hoping this wouldn’t be the whole night. “Do you and Jade go next?” I asked. Kandi responded “No, we take turns on different nights. It helps with keeping things even and call me Katherine.” “Why does Uncle Richie call you Kandi instead of your real name?” “Honestly, he thinks it’s sexy to call us by our stripper names. We don’t say anything because he pays us well.” My face definitely gave away what I was thinking because she answered my question without me having to ask it. “We don’t sleep with your uncle if that’s what you think. We do live there but we have our own room we share.” I was relieved and smiled at her. Uncle Richie isn’t such a pig as I was thinking. Now I have to remember Jade is Isabella, Kandi is Katherine, 54

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and Kitty is Blair. I repeated it in my head several times. Kitty’s performance was done and she returned to the couch. She announced she made $549 dollars and a coupon for a free coffee at McDonald’s. She wasn’t even mad about the free coffee coupon. All the girls high-fived her so I joined in. She bought us another round of mojitos and they told me all their crazy stories of being on stage. Isabella once had a man projectile vomit on her, Blair had a man stalk her and propose to her in the middle of the street, and Katherine had fallen, broken her ankle but still kept going. When they asked me what I did back in New York, working as a life insurance agent wasn’t as exciting to them. I did brag about Donovan and how good looking he was to make my job sound a little more exciting. The girls took turns telling me how I should have approached him differently so I could have gotten what I wanted. When we spoke of ex-boyfriends and I brought up Joe, they talked crap on him like they knew him. I felt like I had best friends. We gossiped, laughed, and had a good time. The hours went by and so did the drinks. The mojito count could have been anywhere between seven and seventeen. It was nearing 2 AM. When I stood up from the table, the alcohol hit me all at once.

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Chapter 11 ***

I woke in my bed with a pounding head and blurry eyes. I had several eye boogers that needed cleaned out. It hurt to think but I don’t remember getting into bed. I was alone in bed so that’s a start. I didn’t make any dumb decisions with bringing someone home. I felt nauseous, but I lifted myself up. The once bright blue dress that made me feel sexy lay on the floor crumpled up. I was completely naked. The AC was blasting. A glass of water and half eaten Pop-tart lay on the night stand. I was trying to piece together the night. The last I remember was Blair paying the tab and joking that Uncle Richie’s credit card was paying for our night out. We took a shot of something repulsive, maybe whiskey, and left. Now I am here, naked and freezing. I felt embarrassed that I drank that much and hope I didn’t say anything stupid or give away how out of sorts my life is. I felt my stomach twist and ran to the bathroom. I dry heaved a few times with nothing coming up. At the corner of my eye, I saw the other half the Pop-tart. I must have attempted to eat it while using the restroom last night. I’m proud drunk me thought to drink water and get a carbohydrate in my system even if it didn’t pan out. I reached for a hand towel to wipe my mouth and bumped my boob with my arm. A sharp pain shot through me. I grabbed my boob and there was a small piece of metal on my nipple. What the hell. It was a barbell through my right nipple. The left nipple was untouched. I looked around the bathroom like someone was going 56

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to explain this moment to me. I checked my body for any other piercings or tattoos that I didn’t know I had. I had no recollection of this. I can’t even piece together the minutes before or after this happening. I slid my robe on and walked downstairs. The smell of bacon hit me halfway down the staircase. It made my stomach feel worse if that was possible. I squinted at the sunlight coming through the large, bare windows. Isabella and Katherine were sitting at the kitchen island sipping on coffee with their backs to me while Blair cooked. I whispered “Good morning.” It hurt my head to speak any louder. They all turned looking like they got eight hours of beauty sleep and woke up with perfect makeup. Maybe being almost nine years older than them had something to do with that. “There’s the party girl. I’m surprised you’re alive before noon” said Isabella. It hurt to even smile. “I feel alright.” I lied. Blair laughed handing me two pills with orange juice saying “You don’t look alright.” I started to put my head down in shame until Blair said “But you are my hero, girl.” I wish I knew what I did other than the right nipple piercing. “I’m not sure how to say this without sounding like a lightweight, but can someone fill me in what happened after the club?” I said trying to look innocent. Blair then handed me a plate of bacon and eggs and said “You’re definitely not a lightweight. You outdrank most men I know. We maybe had four drinks each and a shot. The receipt said you had 13 mojitos and 4 shots.” Katherine laughed. “I was surprised you were able to walk to the limo and keep going.” I squinted my eyes and questioned the “keep going” part. I guess I stopped remembering things before we left the club. I thought they had the same amount to drink as me. “You had Reginald take us downtown. You weren’t ready for the night to end.” said Isabella. She smiled at me tilting her head following with “You mentioned you haven’t been out in years. You should have told us. We would have taken you elsewhere and made the night memorable!” My eyes widened. “I think it was memorable. I have a nipple piercing. How did that happen?” The girls stopped talking and just stared at me. They looked at each other. Blair spoke up saying “We 57

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weren’t there for any nipple piercings.” “Are you sure you got them last night?” asked Katherine. “Yes, its super sore. It’s only one nipple and a small silver barbell.” All of them laughed. “Girl, we wouldn’t let you get one nipple done.” said Isabella. Excitedly, Katherine jumped up from the barstool, “Wait! Remember she wanted to go into the male strip club and disappeared on us?” “Yeah, we figured you were getting special treatment from one of the guys so we hung out waiting for you. We didn’t think you wandered off to get your nipples pierced” said Blair. Laughing Isabella said “Nipple, not nipples.” I rolled my eyes. I was ashamed for what I did. I just met these girls and was already blackout drunk around them. I didn’t know what I said or did for hours. I should be happy I didn’t make any of them mad. Katherine already had her phone pulled up googling the location. Right on the map next to “Rockers Gentlemen’s Club” was “HardKore Tatz.” Isabella said “Let’s go get the other one done today.” Blair gently slapped her shoulder and told her to shut up. “If you need help unscrewing it, let me know. If you decide to keep it, it’s going to be painful for a few days. I have mine done” said Blair. That’s right she does have hers done. I remember seeing them during her performance last night; maybe that’s how I got the idea. “Thank you. I’m going to take my breakfast upstairs and get some sleep.” They all said their goodbyes to me. I am happy Uncle Richie wasn’t downstairs to see the ordeal or hear what happened last night. I didn’t even care to wonder where he was. I ate a few bites of my breakfast and fell asleep. I was awakened by shouting. It sounded like Isabella or Katherine. The clock read 12:29 PM. I was able to get a couple hours of sleep in. I felt so much better. My head didn’t feel like there were seven bricks on top of it. I actually felt hungry and had some energy. My mind was clearer but I still couldn’t piece the night together. I peeked out the bedroom door to see if I could make out who it was. I couldn’t understand the words that were being shouted. I knew one voice was a man. It sounded like Uncle Richie. I couldn’t 58

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make out the female. It didn’t sound like Isabella or Katherine anymore. I knew the voice but I couldn’t pinpoint it. It was over 90 degrees outside, but I still put on my grey sweatpants and “I heart NY” long sleeve shirt. Uncle Richie keeps it at 64 degrees in the house like he has leather skin. The argument was coming down the hallway near one of the spare bedrooms. It was bothering me that I couldn’t figure out how I knew the voice. It would take a lot to get Uncle Richie upset. The door was closed but I could make out the conversation. I stood still against the wall with my ear pointed to the room. “You’re trying to bullshit. It’s not working.” Uncle Richie loudly said. I could tell he was done with the argument. He wanted it to end by the tone of his voice. “I did not go there. I was in Miami visiting my mom” the female pleaded. Uncle Richie said “It’s done.” There was silence. I can’t imagine trying to argue with my uncle. He was rated as one of the top ten lawyers in Las Vegas for numerous years throughout his career. I heard footsteps. The female said “Rich, believe me” several times. Every couple seconds I kept telling myself to start walking back to my room. If one of them opens the door, I’ll be caught. I won’t have any excuse to be down this end of the hallway. Uncle Richie finally said “He told me you were there. You broke a family up and I told you not to. I don’t accept that in my household. Leave now.” The last part was so demanding and strict that my body listened to it and I started walking away. I wasn’t done snooping, yet. I walked down the steps trying to find one of the girls. I wanted to see who was in that room. Katherine was folding clothes in the laundry room which was near the front door. It was a perfect spot to hang out until the mystery woman came downstairs. The mystery woman was obviously leaving soon. “Do you know who’s upstairs?” I asked. Katherine sighed “I rather not talk about it.” “I heard Uncle Richie arguing with a woman” trying to probe her of anything. Uncle Richie is normally a very calm person. When someone broke into his penthouse last year, he practically showed him around. He stalled the criminal long enough until the cops got there. Uncle Richie can smooth talk anyone and 59

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saved his anger for the courtroom. Katherine kept it short by saying “She used to be our friend and work here with us. We had a visitor” She stopped for a moment. “She ran off with him but continues to lie about it.” I asked her why Uncle Richie would be mad. I didn’t want her to think they were all replaceable but why does he need four women cleaning and cooking for him. Three seems to be working just fine. It’s so clean in the penthouse that I haven’t even got a crumb stuck between my toes yet. I have to remind myself to not walk through the balcony glass because it’s so clean. “She went with someone that was close to Rich” Katherine said as she was looking out the laundry room door. She was being secretive. I could tell she wanted to get out of the room with me. I was standing in her way. I’m not the brightest crayon in the box but I can read people well. “What are you hiding from me?” I said getting annoyed. I only speak to Uncle Richie once a year. I don’t see how this involves me. Katherine put the shirt she was folding down. She spoke fast. “Your dad came to visit in November. Reena and him hit it off. He promised her a home and family. I guess he couldn’t provide and now she’s trying to come back. I wasn’t sure if you knew about your dad.” I disliked my Father before but now I hate him. How could he promise someone a home and family? Did he plan on moving her in with my mother and adopted sister? Did he plan on buying her a home and knocking her up? Maybe he said that just to get her to Ohio. He didn’t just meet the woman he cheated on my mother with, he moved her across the country. Now she’s less than 15 feet from me. My family was already ruined before her but my Father and her ruined any normalcy for my adopted sister. I had nothing left to say to Katherine. My mind was set on Reena. I wanted revenge. I knew I couldn’t go to jail for trying to fight her. I didn’t know what she looked like other than her tan boobs from my Father’s phone. She could be a secret MMA fighter for all I know. I enjoy having all my teeth. I grabbed the vegetable oil and olive oil from the kitchen cabinet. 60

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I unscrewed both lids. Both bottles were almost full. I felt like my eyes were red and you could feel the heat coming off my body. I saw Uncle Richie standing outside the spare bedroom door. He started saying my name but stopped and tilted his head. He knew that I knew. He wasn’t going to stand in my way. I poured both oils in her suitcase, covering her belongings. The oils flowed out smooth. They were meant for this. Her clothes, handbag, several shoes were all coated. I felt like a complete badass. I’ve never done anything like that before. It’s the first revengeful thing I could think of that wouldn’t land me in jail. I’ve cooked with oil many times and ruined clothes. Oil is almost impossible to get out of clothes. All of her belongings are ruined. Now she has nothing. I wanted to think I was doing this for Abigail but this was all for me. Reena walked out of the bathroom with a makeup bag. She needed to walk back in that bathroom and actually use the makeup. She had an amazing body but her face looked decades older than she was. Reena must have tanned for a full-time job. I was upset she didn’t get to see my show. All she saw was me standing with two empty oil bottles. “Meet Edwards’s daughter” said Uncle Richie as he stepped in from the doorway. Reena and I stared at each other. We both had nothing to say to each other. It almost felt like a staring contest. Reena finally said “Hello.” I still stared at her. Neither of us smiled. We both kept a straight face. I was drastically judging her. She must not have put the empty oil bottles and me being the daughter of the man she cheated with together. I don’t understand if she thought I was going to be friendly to her. I wasn’t about to take her out for margaritas. I had questions. They swirled in my mind. I wanted to blurt out “You didn’t feel bad for sleeping with a married man” and “who broke it off” but it didn’t matter. It happened. Nothing would make it remotely okay. Nothing would make me think that it was a justifiable decision either. From a week ago, my confidence has boosted. I have taken so much negativity out of my life. I felt I finally had control. I don’t 61

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need to give her any more of my time. I threw the two oil bottles in her suitcase and turned to the door. Reena sounded disgusted saying “Excuse me.” If only you knew Rectal Reena. I walked past Uncle Richie out the door. I could hear Uncle Richie saying “You’ve got five minutes.” I felt untouchable but I locked the door. I don’t know how crazy Reena is. When she sees the oil spewing from her suitcase, she could come running in with a machete. Anyone who leaves Las Vegas for Ohio, especially to be with an old man, definitely has to be some sorts of crazy. I lay on the bed and opened my dating profile to keep my mind off of what just happened. I had 23 unread messages. I started responding to the men who wrote more than two words in their message. It only felt like 30 minutes sending messages back and forth to random men but the clock read 4 PM. Two hours of my life laying here. I made a connection with a man named Wade. It was probably because he was online the whole time that I laid here so the conversation was flowing. Some people have lives and only respond once or twice a week. Wades profile read he was 7 miles from me. That was perfect to find somewhere to meet between. The main profile photo showed him standing against a white brick wall. He had a navy blue blazer with a crisp white tee underneath. His hair was groomed to the side. I love the clean cut look. It gives me hope that a man keeps his undercarriage the same way. I hate a wild jungle with possible toilet paper remnants. The second photo was giving a dog a fake kiss. I hope that shows he has a fun side. I went through my rigorous questions with him. I wanted to be 100% sure he wasn’t a serial killer or faking who he was. I would be devastated for either outcome. More so the serial killer. I feel like since I messaged him first, I set the tone for the conversation. I asked him about his career, the dog in his profile photo, what he likes to do around the area, and if he has had any weird Tinder date stories to share. The last question was asked for three reasons. I could see what he finds weird, if he has been on several dates, and 62

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how long he has Tinder. He shared a story of a woman showing up thirty minutes late and blaming her cat would not let her leave. He said he wouldn’t have been so upset if they didn’t plan to meet in the park and it was only 45 degrees. I joked he must have never visited New York because 45 degrees was still shorts weather for some. I could tell from his story he has at least had Tinder since Las Vegas winter time. He may not be a complete weirdo. Wade asked if I would like to get coffee next Sunday. I jumped right into asking what he’s doing tonight. My hangover wasn’t fully gone but I felt well enough for a date. Surprisingly, he was free. I pulled up Google Maps and figured Ranaldi’s Steakhouse was an eleven minute walk from Uncle Richie’s penthouse. If I walked slowly and took a few breaks, I wouldn’t sweat off any makeup. I couldn’t promise my lady bits would be the most fresh, but I can pack supplies for that. Wade agreed to meet at the restaurant at 8:00 PM. If the date went well, I would hope he had his own place. His profile listed him as thirty-six years old. Not everyone was like me and almost homeless. I knew Uncle Richie wouldn’t mind if I had visitors but it didn’t feel right. I wouldn’t be comfortable knowing a family member was one floor away from me while I was trying to orgasm. I only wanted a one night stand as a rebound. Joe then lingered in my head. I wondered if he slept with one of those women. It could have been in the bed that we shared for over four years. It was nothing for him to bring females back to our home. My old home. I wasn’t going to let my memories damper my mood. I couldn’t change the past. I had a little over an hour to get ready. I straightened my long, thick hair. I tried to remember how the girls put my makeup on last night so I could match it. There were so many colors, but it blended so well. Once I went to change shirts, I forgot about the nipple ring. I tried to unscrew the ball on the end. My hands were either too greasy or it was tightened well. It was starting to hurt from pulling and tugging. The soreness had gotten worse. I was desperate to get it out before tonight. I would have to remember to keep my shirt on with Wade. I rather have two nipple piercings than one. I didn’t 63

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have time to visit the tattoo parlor before our date. A knock at the door made me jump. Uncle Richie asked if he could come in. I hurriedly threw on my shirt. I didn’t answer immediately until he said he was alone. I unlocked the door and peeked out. Uncle Richie stood there with two martinis. “I thought you could use a drink,” he said with a “forgive me” smile. His dark brown eyes had such love in them. “Thank you but I’m actually going out” I replied. He looked confused but also worried. “You’re not leaving, are you? Like flying back to New York? I want you to understand that I tried to stop Reena from going. Your dad was set on bringing her to Ohio. There was no stopping his stubborn self.” “Uncle Richie, no. I know it wasn’t your fault what they did. I wish it wasn’t kept a secret from me. It’s over with though.” I smiled to lighten the mood and hoped he wouldn’t push the subject. “You’re right. Now, where are you going? My ladies already left for the evening.” I was hurt they didn’t ask me to go with them but Katherine probably told them about Reena visiting. They probably assumed I still needed to recover from the night before or mentally recover from today. “I have a date. I met him online but we have been talking all day” I said reassuring Uncle Richie that he doesn’t seem like a serial killer. Uncle Richie said “Do you need me to go with you? I can follow behind so he doesn’t know I’m watching. I want you to be safe.” I laughed, deep down wishing he was my real father. I didn’t agree with all his life decisions but he always treated his family and friends with love and respect. I said “You’re a large, loud man. I think he might know someone is following us. I’m also not fifteen. Thank you though.” “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you be. Call me if you need this large, loud man” he said winking as he walked out the bedroom door. My phone went off four times during the short conversation with Uncle Richie. The messages were from potential date candidates and one from Wade. The message said, “Can’t wait to meet you.” It could have been gas from all the bacon I ate earlier but I think it was butterflies in my stomach.

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Chapter 12 ***

The walk to Ranaldi’s Steakhouse was relaxing. The weather was cooled down from earlier. It was almost bearable. Many couples and families were strolling the streets and seemed to be enjoying the evening. I tried smiling at each passerby. I packed a washcloth and razor in a small purse to freshen up if I ended up at his house. I showed up 20 minutes early so I didn’t have to make a grand walk-in and stare me down while I look like an idiot searching for the table. I wasn’t fully sure of what he would look like in person so I would be searching tables for a man that looks like two photos that I have seen. I would rather be comfortably seated, get a feel for the atmosphere, and have time to calm my nerves. I also need time to examine the menu. I have a hard time making such an important decision. Unfortunately for me, my plan didn’t work out. There was a 35-minute waiting list. All the waiting area seats were taken. I made a spot in the corner which happened to be right at the entrance. It was either there or next to the restrooms. I didn’t want any chance of the restroom smell lingering off on me. I was the only single person in the restaurant. There were two families and several couples. Some were chatting but most were playing on their cell phones. I didn’t want to be caught staring at anyone so I pulled my cell phone out. No messages from Wade. It was 7:50 PM. He told me he hated people who were late. I thought he would be early. Being stood up didn’t cross my mind while I spent over an hour getting ready. 65

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I pulled up Tinder to start finding a plan B man in case Wade was a no-show. I didn’t look this good to sit in my room all night. I started replying to all my unread messages but still watching the time. 7:54 PM. With each minute that passed, I could feel more anxiety. My phone vibrated at 7:57 PM. I was sure it was a response from someone on Tinder but the message came from Wade. It said “Just parked. Wearing jeans and yellow polo.” My nerves switched from disappointment to nervousness. It’s finally happening. I turned my phone off from all future Tinder messages. Joe would never be at a steakhouse. He would prefer a bar with a live band. I would too but sometimes switching it up is a must. I’m not against trying new things. My palms were sweating. I tried wiping them on my pants. I should have rehearsed how to say “Hello” in the mirror. I could do the sexy slow “hello” or the upbeat; I’m still young “Hey.” I saw him through the restaurant window. He matched his profile photo other than the mop on his head. His photos had his hair neatly groomed. In-person, Wade had at least four inches of curly hair thrown on his head. I can get past the unkempt look if he doesn’t scratch his head the whole time. The front door opened. I had to make up my mind on my “Hello” quick. I’m not sure what evil spirit took over my body at the moment, but I shouted “BOO!” at Wade. I was too focused on Wade’s reaction to noticing almost every person in the waiting area looking at me. Wade looked to the right then to left then back at me. He was probably wondering what he got himself into and how to get himself out. He smiled and introduced himself with a hug. He smelled of Irish Spring soap. It’s such a cheap but manly smell. He didn’t acknowledge my weird greeting. I was embarrassed that was the “Hello” I chose. “Yo” or “Wazzup” would have been better. He asked me how long I’ve been waiting. I lied saying “Only five-ish minutes.” He replied “Good, good.” Wade pulled out hand sanitizer from his jean pocket and squirted a little in his hands. He said “Open up. You never know what germs are out here” and squirted some in my hands. Wade said “Rub, rub.” Maybe he was 66

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trying to match my silly energy that I let off. Kowalski was called for our table. Wade didn’t move. I said “That’s for us. I used my last name.” His eyes grew and his eyebrows rose. “Why would you use your last name? That’s how people are stalked and murdered.” I laughed thinking he was joking. His lips were a straight line. He seemed serious. I shrugged my shoulders feeling scolded. “I think people are murdered because there are crazy people” I said. He let the conversation go once we sat down. The menu was only one page but the prices were exorbitant. I would have suggested McDonalds for a first date but that might give off the impression that I’m a motel blowjob hooker.  It was silent while we looked at our menus. I tried to rack my brain with questions or conversation starters. I was drawing a blank. Once Wade put his menu down, there was no silence on his end. “I’m so happy we met up. My evenings are normally the gym and friends.” He proceeded to tell me every gym equipment piece he uses. He didn’t look like “an everyday gym-er.” When I thought I could get a word in about myself or comment on his delightful gym trips, he told me about his friends. I sat there just smiling, nodding and throwing in a few “Yeahs.” I opened my mouth a couple times to speak but I was shut down. Wade had word diarrhea while I was itching to let some of mine release. He was a recording and didn’t realize I was there until finally he asked me a question. With sincerity, Wade asked “Do you get headaches?” I perked up a bit and excited to be able to speak. I said “Yeah, at least once a week.” “I’m guessing you also toss and turn at night too?” “You must be in my room!” I laughed. I was hoping this would be our turn around and we could start joking with each other. He smiled “Well, I noticed you have been slouching this entire evening. I wanted to tell you before the food got here. Poor posture equals poor digestion.” He winked at me. I took a slow sip of my beer to collect my thoughts. I felt like I was on a date with my father. I wanted laid but not this bad. I don’t think when you watch porn and girls are screaming “Oh daddy” that they think “Wow, what a great father figure this 67

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man is” or imagining their own father. The waiter showed with our food just in time when my beer was empty so I could reorder. After the hangover that I experienced and the decisions I made, I told myself I wouldn’t drink more than one tonight. I gave myself a special pass. The alcohol also numbed the soreness of my nipple. After finishing my second beer, I could look past Wade’s fatherly ways. I tried to think positive about it. It could be a sign he’s a giver in the bedroom. Wade might even tell me what I’m doing wrong and how to fix it. I may leave with a bruised ego but more rounded in the bedroom. “Thatta sport”, he will say as I suck his dick. I was disrupted at making jokes in my head by a salivating, heavy breathing noise. My biggest pet peeve, open mouth, loud chewing. Wade licked his lips. “The aioli and cauliflower complement each other so well.” Every bite he took, my body cringed. I couldn’t concentrate on my own food. I tried to tune his loud chewing out. Between bites of my burger, I spoke loud to drown his chomping noises. Nothing worked. I ordered another beer. I excused myself to the restroom. Wade gave me a “go ahead” head nod. I grabbed my purse and phone. It looked like I was leaving but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. The bathroom had complimentary mouthwash on the countertop. A basket of tampons were next to the mouthwash cups. I put a few tampons in my purse. I didn’t have to use the restroom but I needed a mental break. I sat on the toilet scrolling through Tinder. Since I turned the notifications off, I didn’t realize I had 18 new messages. I didn’t have time to find new plans without Wade thinking I wasn’t taking a huge crap in the bathroom. It would at least be fifteen minutes before I could make plans. That’s only if someone is online and I won’t have time to go through my serial killer questions. I put my phone in my bra instead of my purse. It’s God’s natural purse. I only carried the purse to look more feminine. I put four more tampons in my purse before returning to the table. The restaurant should have put a “One per customer” sign. It’s not my fault they didn’t think their generosity through. 68

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Not even fifteen seconds after Wade was finished eating, he started about his vegetable garden. I kept looking around for the waiter. I wanted the check as soon as possible. I was ready to lie in bed and mourn my loveless vagina. The check was finally given to us. It was placed in the middle of the table. It was up for grabs for either one of us. I didn’t care at this point. I was ready to leave. I went to reach for my purse. Wade put his hand up and said “Ladies never pay on the first date.” He pulled out two gift cards and set them in the leather folder. “It was luck you recommended this place. I have had these gift cards since Christmas.” That was a short lived moment of almost giving him brownie points. It was a silent walk to the entrance of Ranaldi’s Steakhouse. My mind was made up to walk back to Uncle Richie’s penthouse. We stood in the front of the steakhouse. The vibrant Las Vegas lights surrounded us. With someone else, this moment could be romantic. “I have two binders of over 1,000 DVDs. You can come over and pick one to watch with me” Wade said. That could have been a question or command. “Let’s do that next time. I’m going to walk back since I have an early morning.” Both were lies but I had no intentions on ever seeing him again. “I’ll hold you to that. Let’s get you a taxi. You can’t walk back alone.” “I will be okay. It’s a busy street and only a couple minutes” I am on a roll with the lies. “I don’t like that ma’am.” I stayed quiet and he didn’t say anything else. He held his arms wide open and went in for a tight hug. He rocked back and forth a few times and rested his hand on my head. It was what I dreamt a normal father hug would feel like. I patted his back, not reciprocating the hug. He let go of me and leaned in for a kiss. I thought fast. I ducked down a little. I didn’t duck enough for a forehead kiss, thanks to my creaky knees that remind me I should get to the gym, and he planted a moist kiss on my nose. The whole sight was awkward. I felt uncomfortable for anyone who had to witness the scene. Wade shouted “I’ll message you later” as he walked away from me. I walked the opposite way relieved this was over. Most importantly, relieved I could let out the fart I was 69

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holding in. I knew Wade wouldn’t be a second dater but for the sake of other people eating around us, I clenched my butt cheeks. At least let some people blossom their love tonight. Seven minutes to go on my walk. I tried to not stare at the people walking by me. It was like being back on the city bus. I was coming up with imaginary stories of people’s lives. The couple holding hands and laughing were walking to the chapel to get married by the Elvis impersonator. The female had a silky red dress that went slightly above her knees. She wanted to wear red to go against her parents. They wanted her to wear white to show her pure soul. She knew she wasn’t pure and wanted to rebel. I didn’t need to make up a story about the six girls stumbling towards me. The bachelorette satchel said it all. A few hours ago, their hair was probably neatly done up and make up flawless. The Vegas heat, crowded clubs, and alcohol did them dirty. Hopefully they would remember the night forever. The male behind them was no taller than 5’5. He couldn’t weigh more than 140 pounds. He didn’t look to be a part of their gang in glitter and pink. I would have thought he was a kid until he got closer. His bald head resembled a peach pit. It was rippled and saggy looking. He had to at least be in his forties. He wore a light pink shirt which was perfect to match his peach pitted head. We made eye contact but I quickly looked down. I began thinking of my imaginary story for him until I felt a sharp pain on my neck. This wasn’t an aging pain or “because you’re slouching” pain. It happened quickly. The man squeezed my neck. His hand only made it halfway around my neck but it almost brought me to my knees. The other hand ripped my purse off my shoulder. For a man with short legs, he could run. He passed the bachelorette girls who were at least half a mile ahead of me before I mentally realized what happened. I wanted to run but my body froze. I was shocked. I was afraid. In fight or flight, I’m laying down and take me. I knew I wouldn’t have caught him. The bachelorette girls wouldn’t hear me screaming above all their cackling and shouting. There was no one else on the strip of the sidewalk. He saw me as an easy target and he was right. I couldn’t even scream. How pathetic. 70

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I stood silently with tears rolling down my face. My stomach was queasy. My neck already felt sore. I didn’t even want to carry a purse tonight. I grabbed it last minute. I wanted to magically appear at Uncle Richie’s penthouse, tucked in my bed. I slowly started to walk, looking behind me every few steps. I would have to borrow Uncle Richie’s phone to call the police. I know he would make a big deal out of this while there’s a slim chance the police will find this guy. There are thousands of people in Las Vegas. Not to mention, the tourists that come and go. I felt two quick vibrations. It was my phone! I forgot I put my phone in my bra at the steakhouse when I went to use the restroom. I quickly pulled it out to call the police. My credit card and driver’s license fell onto the sidewalk. My brain light went off. I put those in my bra while getting ready. Since it was last minute on deciding a purse, I never put them in. Peach man only got away with a washcloth, a used razor, and a lot of restaurant tampons. Whoever my guardian angel is, I owe him or her a huge thank you. I ran until I reached the front entrance. He might come back for not getting what he wanted. I wasn’t going to call the police for items less than fifteen dollars and so invaluable. It was going to be kept a secret. I didn’t want Uncle Richie to think I couldn’t take care of myself. I tried to fix my makeup and hair in the stainless steel reflection of the elevator. When I walked in, I saw Uncle Richie lying on the couch. His cigar and whiskey lay next to him on the table. Uncle Richie was asleep but the cigar had smoke lingering off in the tray. His shot of whiskey was only half gone. I knew he tried to stay awake for me. I pulled a blanket over him. Half thankful, I didn’t have to lie about my night. The other part of me wanted a shoulder to rest on.

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Chapter 13 ***

The time difference between New York and Las Vegas had me waking up before everyone else. My phone screen displayed 5:22 AM. I clicked the notepad on my phone. My three goals popped up. (1. Get poked, 2. Celebrate your birthday how I want to, 3. Job) I backspaced goal number one. I still had a fierce craving in me to have sex but after last night, there was more to it. It wasn’t just to be in bed with anyone. I typed “1. Meet a nice man.” I wanted to genuinely smile when meeting a man. It was broad but I believe it was achievable during my time in Las Vegas. He didn’t have to be my soulmate but someone who wasn’t Wade and definitely not anyone like peach man. I kept my pajamas on but slid a bra underneath. I didn’t want to scare anyone with these laser pointer nipples. I can’t forget the new metal addition that once HardKore Tatz is open today, I’ll be making a trip. I walked downstairs to  start the coffee. I needed to start goal three. I wanted to at least fix my resume. If the coffee hit the right spot, I could send an application or two. Uncle Richie must have made his way to his bed since the blanket was folded on top of the couch. I laid the blanket on me while I sat in the computer chair. I thought my body would get used to how cold Uncle Richie keeps it in the house. I was wrong. I learned to always save a copy of my resume in my email so I can access it anywhere. I guess part of me knew I would be jobless 72

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in another state one day. I should have left Bass Insurance on better terms. I was hurt no one bothered to reach out, especially Regina. As the boss, Brian should have had questions about me quitting. I wasn’t worried about him saying anything bad about me if a potential employer called. He knows I have enough to ruin his home life and bring the company down. My resume was almost completed until I started falling asleep. As much motivation as I had earlier, it’s hard to stay awake when it’s quiet and you’re wrapped under a blanket. My head was bouncing up and down as I tried to stay awake. The coffee was too hot to drink. A hand landed on my shoulder. My reflexes threw my hand backward as I twisted my body to stand up. There was a loud smack. “Ow. What the hell?” cried Blair as she held her cheek. “I am so sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be awake for a while.” She put her hand down. “And I didn’t expect you to be so jumpy or slap me. I thought you heard me getting coffee.” I noticed a bright, red line down her cheek. There were tiny droplets of blood forming on the line. “My nail must have got you. I’m so sorry. We have to put peroxide on it. I can grab an ice pack” “I can do it. It’s just a scratch” Blair sounded annoyed. As she was walking away, I shouted “I’m really sorry. I was falling asleep. I was just startled.” I knew that wasn’t the entire issue. Last night’s incident must have bothered me more than I realized. Blair returned holding a tissue over her scratch. “My makeup can cover anything up. Take this.” She handed me a small orange and white pill. I grabbed it not knowing what it was. I didn’t want to take any chances of upsetting her since I felt bad. She smiled. “It’ll get you going on your job search.” I was embarrassed she knew I was looking for a job. I didn’t want anyone to know I was searching. I didn’t want anyone to assume I was jobless or struggling financially. Their assumptions would be correct but I didn’t want it known. “I’m just tired of my job back home,” I said. She nodded to the pill saying “That’ll help you focus for a few hours.” Other than being jobless, I also didn’t want to blurt out I only smoked weed once when I was 25. I’m the sheltered, follow the rules girl. What 73

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they saw of me my first night here was not me. Blair could tell I was nervous. “Calm down, it’s Adderall. You’ll stay awake and won’t punch any more people.” Blair laughed but I wish she knew about last night without me having to relive telling the story. I was hesitant but I slid the tiny pill into my mouth with a sip of coffee. I sipped my coffee while waiting for any effects to take place. I started regretting my decision in case I had to take a drug test for a job. It was too late to back out now. The pill was in my body. Maybe my body was immune to the pill or it was a dud. I didn’t feel any different. I finished my resume and pulled up the job search websites. I didn’t realize within the hour, that my foot was tapping. I was humming every lyric to Spice Girls while dancing in my seat. My fingers were running across the keyboard. I had 12 applications completed. I had equally submitted six in New York and six in Las Vegas. There was a slim chance I wanted to stay in Las Vegas for a little longer. The submit button was on fire. My trance was broken when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I had all Tinder notifications on silent since the date with Wade. If I didn’t, my phone would be vibrating all day. “Joe” came across the screen. Our relationship was over but there was still something that squeezed my heart. I closed everything down on the computer. It felt like immediate depression seeing his name. It could also be a coincidence that the pill was giving me a crashing effect. I went into my room to open the message. “Hi.” That’s all it said. What the hell is this? I started typing “What?” but backspaced and typed “Hello.” He responded immediately. “Can you come home?” I closed my eyes. I imagined myself walking into the apartment. I imagined sitting on the well-loved couch that we bought from a yard sale. We didn’t care that it was used. It was polka dotted and bright green. We fell in love with the quirkiness of it. I imagined pouring my homemade sweet tea into our matching Darth Vader cups to read the funnies section of the newspaper together. I imagined our abnormally tiny shower and always attempting to have sex 74

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in it but would end up with us on the bed. Those were the few good memories of our home. Now, that apartment isn’t my home. I felt Uncle Richie’s penthouse was more of a home to me than what I have felt my entire life. I feel truly loved here. I know I am respected and always welcome. Uncle Richie’s penthouse isn’t my permanent home though. I planned to make one for myself. I went to my phone settings. I clicked “Block Number.” There was nothing left for me with Joe. I felt that was one unwritten goal checked off my list. It’s time to move on. Another unwritten goal is this nipple ring. HardKore Tatz opened at 4:00 PM. I had a little less than an hour until they opened. I was hoping one of the girls would join me. I didn’t want to be alone in Las Vegas whether it was daylight or nighttime. All three girls and Uncle Richie were sitting downstairs. I started getting used to their odd family dynamic. “Hey, are any of you free to run an errand with me?” Uncle Richie immediately spoke up. “I’d love to. We haven’t gotten to spend any time together since you’ve gotten here.” I wasn’t ready to share my embarrassing story with him. “I was hoping for one of the girls since it’s more personal.” Uncle Richie looked offended. “What do you have to do in the city of sin that is personal? We’re family. We can tell each other everything.” “You didn’t tell me about Reena” I slipped out. I immediately felt terrible. I was still upset Uncle Richie didn’t tell me. He’s not to blame for Reena and my father. I shouldn’t have any hard feelings for him but there’s a sliver of betrayal still lingering in my mind. Isabella said, “Oh that was harsh, girl.” “I deserved that” responded Uncle Richie. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week.” I took a deep breath. “I just prefer one of the girls to come with me to the store. I don’t want to Uber alone.” Blair laughed out loud. She said “I know” and winked at my boob. The other two girls caught on. Uncle Richie was glancing around at all of us. I’m thankful no one told him. “Fine, call Reginald and all of you can go.” “We can Uber. It’s fine” I said almost pleading 75

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with him. I didn’t want any chance of extra eyes being on my boob. “Nope, it’s dangerous out there. You four stick together.” He was adamant. It seemed the girls stood up all at once, in sync. They were excited, chatting about what to do after. I couldn’t even think about it after. I just wanted this over with.

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Chapter 14 ***

HardKore Tatz was a standalone brick building. The front glass panel displayed the store name with a hand-drawn skeleton holding a heart and tattoo gun. I wish I remembered this place. I made a deal with the girls in the limousine. If they don’t come into the shop with me, I’ll go to one bar with them after. I was in no mood to drink but it was six fewer eyes on my nipple. The inside of the store had a strong bleach smell. I was hoping that meant they’re at least clean. I don’t want to explain to people if I contracted HIV and how. A round, burly man was tattooing another man on his upper thigh. The man getting tattooed was at least three times smaller than the tattoo artist. He looked like skin and bones. The round man was covered in tattoos while the man lying in the chair looked to be getting his first one. It also looked like it would be his last. He was biting on a rag closing his eyes. “Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt. I had a piercing done here a couple of nights ago that I need removed” The round, burly man didn’t look up. He responded “Piercers off. Come back tomorrow.” “It’s just a ball that needs to be unscrewed ma’am.” I was hoping he would attempt it. I would take the walking twig getting tattooed to try at this point. “Then tomorrow the ball can get unscrewed.” There was no point in arguing. The tattoo artist had no intentions of moving from that chair. It was another day with my nipple piercing. I wanted to rip it out. I’d just have to try again later, hoping it wasn’t as sore. 77

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I couldn’t help getting back into the limousine and tearing up. I tried to hide it from the girls. It’s been a rollercoaster ride. Katherine put her arm around me. “Did it hurt that bad?” That’s when I pulled a Wade. I word vomited. I told the girls about my breakup, my family, my job, going on a date with father #2, and being robbed. They sat so quietly listening to me. They didn’t try to interrupt me making it about them. They all waited until I was done to bombard me with questions. They called me brave and strong. I never looked at myself like that but they are right. I have been on a rollercoaster but I haven’t fallen off. I’m still along for the ride. After my blabbering mess, I had to be fair on my end of the deal. The girls and I had Reginald drop us off at Gail’s Highway Bar. It wasn’t on a highway. It was a back road dive bar. It wasn’t a place that I would think the girls would enjoy. It was a small one-story bar that needed to be updated. It was 2021 but a jukebox sat in the corner. The lighting was dim. There were no strobe lights or disco balls. No DJ shouted “Let’s go” every ten minutes. With five tables and bar seating, only four customers were inside. They all looked to be over 60 years old. The girls chose a table in the corner. “What do you see in this place? It’s the complete opposite of the Blue Agave.” Isabella replied, “Sometimes it’s nice to have a quiet afternoon.” Katherine and Blair shook their heads in agreement. We were in the middle of a conversation about foods we dislike when someone new walked into the bar. It seems to be automatic to look at the door when it opens. You want to see who is coming in. You eye them up and judge everything they do. Smart, cautious people are aware of their surroundings. I need to be like those people. I couldn’t see the full facial features of the man walking in. When I saw the rippled bald head, I knew exactly who it was. He glanced around the bar upon entering. He must have been eyeing everyone up too. He either didn’t recognize me or didn’t notice me. He sat at the bar. His back facing towards me. I tapped each girl’s arms repeatedly to the side of me. I wanted their attention without causing 78

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attention. I whispered “That’s him! That’s the peach man. That’s who robbed me!” All three heads turned to look at me then at him. Isabella whispered “Let’s go fight him. Four against one.” “Shut up. Let’s call the police” said Katherine. Blair and I were just staring at him. It felt like the air escaped my body. I didn’t know how to feel. “He doesn’t have anything valuable of mine,” I said. “So? He still grabbed you and stole from you.” Isabella was getting herself fired up. I started rubbing my neck, feeling the sore spots. He grabbed hard enough to leave bruising. Katherine had her phone out. She wasn’t dialing anything but she was ready to. Her thumb was laying on the “9”. Katherine was waiting on my go-ahead. Blair was still silent, still staring at peach man. I felt embarrassed that I put them in this situation. It was not their responsibility to take action for what happened to me. I told the girls “Let’s let it go. Revenge doesn’t solve anything. I got nowhere with Reena.” As I was saying that, I was sliding out of my chair. I was standing up, “We need to work on forgiveness.” The girls looked up at me. Only Katherine shook her head in agreement. Isabella said “We can also call Reginald. That’s why Rich sends him out with us.” Katherine sounded more frightened than I was the night I was robbed. She was fumbling on her words. “Yes, yes Reginald has his belt. His black belt. He does. We can leave. Tell Reginald.” Blair finally spoke. “Or let’s break the fucking beer bottle over his head and slice his throat.” We all stared at her. Her comment only pumped Isabella up more. “Hell yeah!” She shouted. “No, this isn’t your battle to fight,” I said. “Well, you’re our friend. We stick up for each other” said Katherine. Blair shook her head “yes”, while Isabella said, “Right, so let me take a swing and not let Blair kill the man.” Isabella made a quick glare at Blair. They thought it was nothing to call me their friend but it meant everything to me. I only had a couple of females back in New York that I called friends, but I knew they were just acquaintances. These girls were sticking up for me. The friends back home would have said “That sucks that happened” and moved on to the next conversation topic. To think I thought the worst of them when I first saw them. 79

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 I wanted to hug each girl. Blair quickly snapped me out of my happy thoughts. “What’s the plan, girl?” she said. None of their plans were going to be put into action. I didn’t want them involved. This was my battle to fight or walk away from. I started walking over to him. The girls watched me from behind. Each one was ready to put their plan into action, if mine went awry. I thought I could hear my heart beating. I felt nervous but adrenaline raced through me. His back was still turned away from me sitting at the bar. I stood behind him, just staring. I kept replaying that night in my head. The fear and helplessness I felt. The anxiety it’s given me, and causing me to harm Blair. He must have sensed I was behind him. Peach man turned around. We made eye contact again for the second time in our lives. He smiled at me, showing no teeth. Maybe he didn’t have any teeth. I couldn’t tell if he recognized me. It could have been a smile that he was happy a female was coming up to him at a bar or a smile that he knew who I was and felt no regret. Whatever the smile was, it made me angry. He didn’t deserve to smile. My hands clenched up. With all the force in my body, I punched him in the face. My fist made contact with his jaw. That wasn’t enough for me. I opened my hand and slammed his head on the bar. His head sprung up like he was some sort of robot that didn’t feel pain. I was waiting for him to react. I was waiting for pain to come my way. He looked like he was going to say something but his head fell slowly to the bar. I felt Isabella tug on my wrist. She shouted “C’mon let’s go!” The bartender screamed she was calling the police. I heard Katherine in the background that she already did. Reginald already had the door open waiting for us. It’s almost like he never moves or he sensed us coming. Reginald didn’t say one word to us. He simply nodded his head as he saw each of us. Isabella pushed me into the limo. I shouted “I can’t leave the scene!” “We aren’t leaving. We are waiting in here for the cops. If that man wakes up, you don’t know what he will come do to you” said Isabella. Katherine had tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m proud of you but I hate fights. They make me so nauseous” she cried. I hugged her. I realized then I had blood on my hands. I quickly grabbed hand sanitizer 80

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from the side tray. I was grossed out but mostly didn’t want the cops to see. I would confess to what I did but having blood on me makes me look more like a criminal. I want to look as innocent as possible. We didn’t even have a chance to talk. A cop car arrived in less than two minutes. Two police officers stepped out of the vehicle. The female officer immediately went inside. The male officer looked intimidating. I wish the female would have stayed to speak to me instead. I slid out of the limo. The male officer asked to have a word with me. His shiny, golden nametag read Sergeant Rhiner. I couldn’t look him in the eye feeling like the worst criminal. I was ready for handcuffs and to be read my Miranda Rights. He asked for my side of the story and I started at the beginning. I had Wade’s word diarrhea. I started too far at the beginning with almost every detail about why I am in Las Vegas. He listened intently. I thought it was odd he wasn’t taking notes. That’s what I always saw in the movies. I don’t know how he would remember this for my court date hearing. After almost 10 minutes of speaking, Sergeant Rhiner asked “Will you come to the station to complete a written statement?” I shook my head “yes.” He was straight to the point. He wrote an address on a piece of paper and handed it to me. I stood still but he walked off into the bar. I must not seem like a flight risk. I do have a gentle voice. It must have been me wiping the blood off my hands that saved me a ride in the police car. The girls were outside of the limousine. They were listening to everything. “Off to the police station!” Blair said. She sounded excited like this was an adventure. While we were waiting for Reginald to start driving, the female officer exited the building with a peach man handcuffed from behind. He had blood running from his right eye. It was dripping on his light pink shirt. It was the same shirt that he had on that night. I was finally able to see him in the broad daylight. He looked scarier than ever. I’m glad the limousine windows were tinted and he couldn’t see me. I never wanted to make eye contact with him again.

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Chapter 15 ***

I couldn’t describe how I felt out loud. I was ashamed but satisfied. Isabella did a replay on Blair that was overdramatic. I tried to keep the positive energy going but I was full of emotions. I still didn’t know my fate. My hand felt sore, but I didn’t want to add any more attention to myself. Katherine sat looking frightened like we were still in the bar. “Lighten up Kat,” Isabella said. Katherine rolled her eyes and pulled her phone out. I’m glad there’s one person in the group that’s levelheaded. The sight of the police department calmed Blair and Isabella down. They must have sensed me saying “Shit, shit, shit” in my head over and over again when we were pulling up to the curb. Once we stopped, no one moved. We glanced around at each other. I knew we were all questioning if I would be returning to the limousine with them today. Sighing, I said, “I guess this is me.” “We all go in. We are witnesses” Isabella said. “To what? Me punching a guy and slamming his head down? He didn’t do anything to me today.” “We could say he threatened you since he remembered you from the night before?” asked Blair. “No, I’ll just tell the truth” We all walked in together. The receptionist was a silver-haired lady. She looked like a perfect grandma being slightly overweight and thick-rimmed glasses. She didn’t sound like a grandma. “Name, date of birth, and telephone number. Write it down here”, she said pointing to a clipboard. 82

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Trying not to succumb to her rudeness, I said nicely “Sergeant Rhiner told me to come here for questioning.” Without looking up, she pointed to the clipboard. I filled out the clipboard and sat down. The girls were called up one by one to do the same. I didn’t expect the police station to feel like home, but I didn’t expect it to feel so jail-like. There were no magazines in the waiting room. There was a sign that said, “Cellular use prohibited.” Next to it, a sign read “Quiet, please!” We tried whispering to each other but it wasn’t worth it. The silver-haired lady glared at us at any noise. Finally, Sergeant Rhiner called my name. He asked for me to come back for questioning. The girls stood up as he called my name. “I’ll get you, ladies, if I need you.” I hated doing this alone. I had to pass through a metal detector at the entrance. I placed my cell phone and wallet on the table. I slowly walked through. The metal detector beeped. Sergeant Rhiner asked, “Do you have a belt on?” I shook my head “No.” I patted myself down and pulled out a piece of gum in the wrapper from my back pocket. I don’t know how long that has been in there. I walked through again. The metal detector still beeped. Sergeant Rhiner asked “Any jewelry, piercings, watches? I didn’t want to tell him. “I have a piercing under my shirt. I’ve been trying to get it out.” Sergeant Rhiner grabbed a long wand. He started going slowly over my body with it. It beeped right at my chest. My cheeks turned red. I didn’t think one dumb mistake would cause so much embarrassment. He told me to follow him. I was grateful he didn’t question me further. Sergeant Rhiner walked me into an empty office. It was a bland room. The walls were an eggshell white. The table and chairs matched the walls. The carpet looked like it used to be an off-colored white but there were so many muddy footprints and stains that I couldn’t tell. The brown stains on the floor were probably coffee but I thought “What if they were blood?” “Please have a seat,” Sergeant Rhiner said. The female officer from earlier entered the room while Sergeant Rhiner exited. She put her hand out. “Hello, I’m Officer Price. I have a few personal 83

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questions and I’d like to get some photos.” I nodded my head. “Can you lift your hair so I can take a photo of your neck?” I did as she said, not saying a word. She walked around me taking photos. “Are there any other marks?” I quietly said “No ma’am.” “You aren’t under arrest. We have been watching Mr. Matthews for months for suspected crimes. We haven’t had any solid evidence until you. We had patrol cars near the bar thinking he would do something. When the call came in, we figured it was a prior victim getting her justice” I didn’t like knowing his name. I felt more of a connection to him now. I wasn’t completely in the clear yet. “I’m not going to get in trouble for punching him?” I asked. It was a mixture between a smile and a smirk, she said “As long as you’re willing to testify against him, you are in no trouble. We will file a restraining order for you also” A bag of bricks was lifted off my chest. “I can do that, no problem,” I said. I was beyond ecstatic. I wanted to jump out of my seat and scream with joy. I could hug this random woman. “Great! I apologize for what you had to go through, but I thank you for your bravery” Officer Price handed me a paper for a written statement. She also handed me pliers and K-Y gel with a smile on her face. “I overheard. We have had to take out piercings before sending individuals to jail. This will help. There’s a restroom down the hall to the left.” I was almost done with my written statement when Kelvin walked in. I thought I was imagining things. This day couldn’t get any weirder. I almost didn’t recognize him in his uniform. Right on the shiny badge said, Officer Milliner. His smile was contagious. I almost forgot I was sitting in a police station. “I didn’t think this is how we would meet again,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a police officer,” I said. “And I didn’t know you caught Matthews. I’ve had my eye on him for over 8 months” I was thinking that I’ve had my eye on you since we met. “I’m sorry what you went through.” He sounded so sweet and sincere saying it. I was trying to hide the pliers and K-Y gel with my arm. He laughed knowing what I was trying to do. “I don’t want to put you on the spot but I watched your interview on Sergeant Rhiner’s body cam at the bar. I also watched 84

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Officer Price talk to you through that window” He pointed to a mirror directly to the right of me. I must have been so nervous to not think of a two-way mirror. “This was partially my case so I had to watch.” I was trying to think back on everything that I said to Sergeant Rhiner and Officer Price. It was nothing flattering. “It’s been a long day. I don’t know what all you heard but I hope I helped.” “We have Curtis Matthews off the street. He wasn’t the worst of the worst but he was a repeat offender. Also, I hope you don’t mind I told your friends they could leave. I can give you a ride home.” I was upset the girls weren’t in the police station with me. They were the one stable, constant thing I had during this. I almost felt like they were my rocks. I couldn’t complain about spending time with Kelvin though. “Not a problem. I’m staying on the West side of the strip.” “My office is three doors to the right. Just come grab me when you’re done.” He glanced down at the pliers and K-Y gel and said “Enjoy your time.” I scribbled the rest of my statement down. My mind was on Kelvin. I could only think of what the coincidence it was that we were together again. It must have been fate. I put the pliers and gel in my bra. It seemed that everyone at the station already knew about my issue. I probably didn’t have to hide the borrowed tools. I hurriedly walked to the bathroom door and locked it. I lifted my shirt, staring at my poor nipple. It looked infected. There was crust encompassing the barbell. I started surgery by rubbing a small amount of gel on the end. I whispered “I’m sorry” like it had feelings. I was preparing myself. I held one side and twisted the pliers with the other hand. The tiny, silver ball made a “plink” sound bouncing on the floor. Sliding the bar out was a mixture of tickling and pain. I wasted no time throwing the jewelry away. I didn’t want to keep it as a souvenir for the trip or a memory. Maybe five years from now, I could laugh about the occasion. I didn’t bother looking for the ball on the floor. I could not hand Kelvin the pliers or gel or go looking for Officer Price without feeling more uncomfortable than I already was. I set the two items in the urine collection bin that was 85

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attached to the wall. Someone will find it. I tried to do as much damage control to my appearance before leaving the bathroom. I looked for any remnants of blood. I washed my hands and arms in warm water. I was in the clear. I was happy Kelvin offered to take me home, but I was worried about what the girls would tell Uncle Richie when they got home without me. Uncle Richie would have several questions. I checked my cell phone for any text messages from the girls or Uncle Richie. There was nothing. I had three voicemails and two new emails. I listened to the voicemails. All three were employers calling to set up job interviews. The emails were the same. Out of the five, two were in New York. Three were in Las Vegas. I will call back first thing in the morning. I didn’t want any chance of me being at a police station to slip out. I peeked my head into Kelvin’s office or as the plaque outside says, Officer Milliner. “Hi, I’m all done. “I was so happy I didn’t peek in his office and say “BOO!” I had different nerves with Kelvin. I was nervous but he gave me a sense of calm. I had a sense of security. He grabbed a pair of car keys sitting next to him. “Let’s get you out of here.” I followed him to the back exit of the police station. His butt was two rounded, plump cinnamon rolls in his uniform pants. I couldn’t help but stare. He led me to a newer four-door car. How sensible. Kelvin held the door open for me. I wonder if he does this for every victim or maybe I’m still considered a criminal. His co-workers must think this situation is odd. He gave me his phone to type the address in. It was only a six-minute drive. I was worried about what I smelled like, but I couldn’t let him get away this time. “Thank you for the ride home” “Your friends were annoying the receptionist with questions. It was a win-win on both sides” “I just met them last week. I’m staying with my uncle to get away for a little. It’s a long story”, I said forgetting he heard most of it on Sergeant Rhiner’s body camera. He looked over at me. His big brown eyes were gorgeous. “I have time.” There 86

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were only 4 minutes left on the GPS. He must have seen me looking over at his phone. “I’m in uniform so I can’t go out and do anything personal” I knew I would probably regret this if everyone was home but I said “Would you like to come in? My uncle has a back patio?” I didn’t want him to assume I was inviting him into the bedroom. He nodded his head and said, “Of course.” I was singing Alleluia in my head. I was overjoyed. I knew it wasn’t gas this time. This was all butterflies swarming my stomach. They were fluttering everywhere. Kelvin and I walked into the penthouse. Feeling tense at the sight of what we would walk into, Uncle Richie was sitting at the dining room table while the girls were cooking. I could hear all three girls reassuring Uncle Richie that I was fine. When I walked into sight, Uncle Richie scrambled toward me. He began checking my face for any marks. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have every cop searching for that piece of shit?” “That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Uncle Richie gave me a long hug with several squeezes. He then looked at Kelvin. Kelvin put his hand out introducing himself as the police officer on the case and my friend. Uncle Richie shook his hand. “Both of you, come sit. The girls are serving homemade lasagna” Uncle Richie could be intimidating but Kelvin didn’t look timid or tense. He sat next to me and leaned forward. He crossed his hands and rested his head on them. He was ready for conversation. He seemed interested and ready to engage in conversation. When the girls brought the lasagna to the table, they also carried a covered dish. Katherine said, “We felt so bad about what you told us earlier and not being able to celebrate your birthday.” She lifted the lid. All three girls shouted “Surprise!” It was a homemade cake with hot pink frosting. Silver sprinkles scattered the edges. In white lettering had “Happy Birthday Lucy, We love you!” Kelvin put his hand on top of mine and whispered “Happy Birthday.” This is exactly how I want to celebrate every birthday. Everything felt complete. And just like that, all my goals were met. I felt right at place.

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