Distraction
Page 13
I don’t even know who she is anymore.
“It’s going to be okay.” His arm wraps around my shoulders and he pulls me into his side. Turning my face, I press my nose to his neck, allowing myself a brief moment to escape the turmoil going on inside me and accept comfort from him before pulling away.
“Did you need anything else?” I question as I stand and adjust my skirt. His eyes scan my face for a long moment then his hands clench into fists as he stands to his full height, which towers over me even in my heels.
“Mags, if she—”
“She’ll be back,” I cut him off, speaking with more conviction than I feel, wanting so badly to believe my own lie. His hand wraps around the side of my neck and his thumb runs down the column of my throat as his eyes soften further.
Prior to Morgan moving in with me, it wasn’t abnormal for her to disappear for days at a time before turning up strung out, wearing the same clothes she disappeared in. Even though I know deep down this time it’s something different, there’s nothing I can do. When I went to the police, they were hesitant to even fill out a missing person report, because they know her history. They know she has a drug problem, and to them, she was just one more druggie in a long line of missing drug users.
“I’m here for you,” he says gently, moving his thumb in soothing strokes that cause me to lean into his touch instead of pull away like I should. I want to believe him, but I know people. I know you can only really depend on people until they get what they want, and then they turn their backs on you. My family is a shining example of that. My whole life, I have been the person my family turns to when they need something. I have always been the adult, always the responsible one, and always the one left holding the bag when they get what they want and walk away.
“Thanks,” I choke out, feeling that pressure in my chest press in on my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
“It will be okay,” he says, leaning in, pressing his lips to my forehead, and letting them linger there until the feel of them is imprinted on my skin. Then, he pulls back enough to catch my eye. “Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight?” he asks softly, searching my face.
“I think I’m just going to go home and get to bed early,” I tell him, taking a step back before I can say something stupid, like ‘yes.’ I like Sven way too much, and the more time I spend with him, the more I like him.
“Sure.” He nods. “Get some rest.” Seeing the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes right before he turns his back on me makes me waiver in my decision to keep my distance, but then I remember what has happened every time I let someone in.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur as I step out of his office, taking the stairs down to the main floor. I walk through the empty club, waving at Eva, who’s on the phone behind the bar, as I pass her on the way to the door.
“You heading home already?” Teo asks when I step outside.
“Yep, Sven had me up early to run errands, so I’m off now.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.” He stands from the small metal stool he was sitting on and tosses a half smoked cigarette into the street.
“You don’t have to do that,” I assure him, motioning for him to sit back down.
“Sorry, I mean I am walking you to your car.” He grins, wrapping his giant hand around my bicep.
“Fine,” I sigh, knowing there is no point in arguing with him. Since I started working here, there has never been a time I have gone to my car alone. Even in the middle of the day, someone is with me.
“You know Sven doesn’t like you leaving the club alone,” he says, leading me around the side of the building to the parking lot. Ignoring his comment and the way it makes me feel, I try to keep up with his long stride in my heels as we walk past Sven’s giant SUV to my car that is about ten times smaller in size.
“Sven doesn’t like much of anything,” I say under my breath, hearing him chuckle.
“One day, this shit’s gonna go nuclear.”
“What?” I ask, tilting my head back to peer up at him as we stop at the back of my car.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head as a small smile forms on his lips.
“If you say so.” I frown as his eyes study me, running over my hair and face then down over my body before stopping on my shoes, moving back up to meet my eyes once more.
“Fucking nuclear.” He shakes his head, and his smile broadens, confusing me even more.
“Um…”
“Get home safe,” he rumbles, opening the door to my car.
Giving up on understanding him, I lean up on my heels to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
Nodding, he steps back, allowing me to slide behind the wheel. Starting my hybrid, I check the battery and make sure I have enough of a charge to make it home before backing up and waving at Teo as I pass him.
Getting home, I head up the stairs that lead to my apartment and unlock the door, silently praying that Morgan will be inside, but she’s not. The place is quiet and is exactly the same as I left it this morning before I went to run errands for Sven.
Heading to my room, I slip off my heels and toss them onto the pile of shoes in the bottom of my closet. My bedroom is my favorite room. After my first modeling job, I splurged and bought a bedroom suite that was made for a princess. The white, four-poster canopy bed with sheer curtains that hang down around the sides remind me of a bed from Sleeping Beauty. The white matching dressers, one tall, the other long, have etched glass mirrors on the front of each drawer, with shiny silver handles. The side tables match the dressers, and each has a blown glass lamp on top; the Tiffany blue color matches the duvet on my bed.
Walking to my long dresser, the one covered in frames of different sizes, I pick up a picture of Morgan and me. I must have been about six at the time, and Morgan was around four. We were sitting outside my parents’ house on the wooden steps that lead to their front door. My arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and we were naked, wearing nothing but rain boots and covered in mud. We were happy. She was happy. Picking up another picture of us from around four years ago, I run my finger over her face, wondering where her light went. There was a time her smile lit up the room; people would gravitate toward her without even knowing they were doing it. I don’t know what happened to take away her light.
“What happened to you?” I whisper, gaining no answer. I set down the picture and put my hands behind me to unzip my skirt then slip out of my blouse, tossing both items toward the bathroom, where the washer and dryer is located. Then, I slip off my bra and go to the laundry basket next to my bed that is full of clothes I need to put away. I find a pair of sweats and a shirt and put both on and then head down the short hallway, past the guest bath and Morgan’s room, which used to be my office. Stopping in the living room, I turn on the stereo, allowing Adele to fill the silence, and then toss the remote on the sectional across from the television.
Heading toward the kitchen, a letter sitting on top of the stack of mail I brought inside yesterday catches my eye when I see my mom’s swirly handwriting. Sliding my finger under the edge of the envelope, I pull out the folded up letter and read it quickly. My parents don’t have phones or internet, so my mom keeps in contact with letters, and this one is just like the rest: a short update about her and my dad and an invite to come visit when I can.
“It’s going to be okay.” His arm wraps around my shoulders and he pulls me into his side. Turning my face, I press my nose to his neck, allowing myself a brief moment to escape the turmoil going on inside me and accept comfort from him before pulling away.
“Did you need anything else?” I question as I stand and adjust my skirt. His eyes scan my face for a long moment then his hands clench into fists as he stands to his full height, which towers over me even in my heels.
“Mags, if she—”
“She’ll be back,” I cut him off, speaking with more conviction than I feel, wanting so badly to believe my own lie. His hand wraps around the side of my neck and his thumb runs down the column of my throat as his eyes soften further.
Prior to Morgan moving in with me, it wasn’t abnormal for her to disappear for days at a time before turning up strung out, wearing the same clothes she disappeared in. Even though I know deep down this time it’s something different, there’s nothing I can do. When I went to the police, they were hesitant to even fill out a missing person report, because they know her history. They know she has a drug problem, and to them, she was just one more druggie in a long line of missing drug users.
“I’m here for you,” he says gently, moving his thumb in soothing strokes that cause me to lean into his touch instead of pull away like I should. I want to believe him, but I know people. I know you can only really depend on people until they get what they want, and then they turn their backs on you. My family is a shining example of that. My whole life, I have been the person my family turns to when they need something. I have always been the adult, always the responsible one, and always the one left holding the bag when they get what they want and walk away.
“Thanks,” I choke out, feeling that pressure in my chest press in on my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
“It will be okay,” he says, leaning in, pressing his lips to my forehead, and letting them linger there until the feel of them is imprinted on my skin. Then, he pulls back enough to catch my eye. “Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight?” he asks softly, searching my face.
“I think I’m just going to go home and get to bed early,” I tell him, taking a step back before I can say something stupid, like ‘yes.’ I like Sven way too much, and the more time I spend with him, the more I like him.
“Sure.” He nods. “Get some rest.” Seeing the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes right before he turns his back on me makes me waiver in my decision to keep my distance, but then I remember what has happened every time I let someone in.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur as I step out of his office, taking the stairs down to the main floor. I walk through the empty club, waving at Eva, who’s on the phone behind the bar, as I pass her on the way to the door.
“You heading home already?” Teo asks when I step outside.
“Yep, Sven had me up early to run errands, so I’m off now.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.” He stands from the small metal stool he was sitting on and tosses a half smoked cigarette into the street.
“You don’t have to do that,” I assure him, motioning for him to sit back down.
“Sorry, I mean I am walking you to your car.” He grins, wrapping his giant hand around my bicep.
“Fine,” I sigh, knowing there is no point in arguing with him. Since I started working here, there has never been a time I have gone to my car alone. Even in the middle of the day, someone is with me.
“You know Sven doesn’t like you leaving the club alone,” he says, leading me around the side of the building to the parking lot. Ignoring his comment and the way it makes me feel, I try to keep up with his long stride in my heels as we walk past Sven’s giant SUV to my car that is about ten times smaller in size.
“Sven doesn’t like much of anything,” I say under my breath, hearing him chuckle.
“One day, this shit’s gonna go nuclear.”
“What?” I ask, tilting my head back to peer up at him as we stop at the back of my car.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head as a small smile forms on his lips.
“If you say so.” I frown as his eyes study me, running over my hair and face then down over my body before stopping on my shoes, moving back up to meet my eyes once more.
“Fucking nuclear.” He shakes his head, and his smile broadens, confusing me even more.
“Um…”
“Get home safe,” he rumbles, opening the door to my car.
Giving up on understanding him, I lean up on my heels to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
Nodding, he steps back, allowing me to slide behind the wheel. Starting my hybrid, I check the battery and make sure I have enough of a charge to make it home before backing up and waving at Teo as I pass him.
Getting home, I head up the stairs that lead to my apartment and unlock the door, silently praying that Morgan will be inside, but she’s not. The place is quiet and is exactly the same as I left it this morning before I went to run errands for Sven.
Heading to my room, I slip off my heels and toss them onto the pile of shoes in the bottom of my closet. My bedroom is my favorite room. After my first modeling job, I splurged and bought a bedroom suite that was made for a princess. The white, four-poster canopy bed with sheer curtains that hang down around the sides remind me of a bed from Sleeping Beauty. The white matching dressers, one tall, the other long, have etched glass mirrors on the front of each drawer, with shiny silver handles. The side tables match the dressers, and each has a blown glass lamp on top; the Tiffany blue color matches the duvet on my bed.
Walking to my long dresser, the one covered in frames of different sizes, I pick up a picture of Morgan and me. I must have been about six at the time, and Morgan was around four. We were sitting outside my parents’ house on the wooden steps that lead to their front door. My arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and we were naked, wearing nothing but rain boots and covered in mud. We were happy. She was happy. Picking up another picture of us from around four years ago, I run my finger over her face, wondering where her light went. There was a time her smile lit up the room; people would gravitate toward her without even knowing they were doing it. I don’t know what happened to take away her light.
“What happened to you?” I whisper, gaining no answer. I set down the picture and put my hands behind me to unzip my skirt then slip out of my blouse, tossing both items toward the bathroom, where the washer and dryer is located. Then, I slip off my bra and go to the laundry basket next to my bed that is full of clothes I need to put away. I find a pair of sweats and a shirt and put both on and then head down the short hallway, past the guest bath and Morgan’s room, which used to be my office. Stopping in the living room, I turn on the stereo, allowing Adele to fill the silence, and then toss the remote on the sectional across from the television.
Heading toward the kitchen, a letter sitting on top of the stack of mail I brought inside yesterday catches my eye when I see my mom’s swirly handwriting. Sliding my finger under the edge of the envelope, I pull out the folded up letter and read it quickly. My parents don’t have phones or internet, so my mom keeps in contact with letters, and this one is just like the rest: a short update about her and my dad and an invite to come visit when I can.
