Chapter 15 #2
Gabe looks back at me, and I do my best to fade into the wall, which is not like me at all.
I was born under a spotlight thanks to who my parents are, and even who my grandfather was.
I’ve never been selfish or conceited, but I’ve never been a shrinking violet either.
So, I make a mental note for when the bullets are done flying and the smoke has cleared, to put some thought into how Gabe makes me feel about myself. And how not great that probably is.
“I’ve got this covered,” Manny says.
Gabe leans into me and whispers, “Be good, fresa.”
And then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him before I even have the chance to utter the word never.
“It’ll be all right,” Manny says gently.
I turn to look at him.
There are a lot of things I should be concerned with right now, but the one thought that flits through my head over and over is the word that Gabe keeps calling me. I have no idea what it means, but I can’t help but feel like it’s important. So, I open my mouth and ask.
“Manny?” I call out softly.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you a… umm… question?”
“Yeah,” he replies gently, but the laugh lines around his eyes tighten and he looks watchful. Almost wary.
“Umm… what does fresa mean?”
“Literally, it means strawberry,” he says.
That’s not bad at all. Strawberries are sweet and everyone loves them. They’re one of the best parts of summer.
I was right; it’s a term of endearment. Maybe I’m beginning to mean something to Gabe too. I mean, why else would he have asked me to call him by his first name the other night?
“But it’s also slang for spoiled bitch.”
Yep, that tracks with my life.
“Oh.” My reply comes out in a rush of breath.
Wow. That hurts more than I thought it would.
I’ll always be the girl in Daddy’s shadow, the one no one thinks worked her ass off to get where she is.
That’s cool, it’s all cool. Now I know where I stand. I mean, I got the memo when he didn’t even wait for his dick to soften before he pulled out and pulled up stakes, so I know he just wanted to hit it and quit it. Maybe when the job is done, he’ll move on to somewhere else. Someone else too.
Love that for him.
“I’m sure—” Manny starts, but I cut him off.
“It’s fine,” I say with a smile that we both know I don’t really mean.
“Listen—” He tries again, but I mean come on, man, how much more am I supposed to take here?
“No, really, it’s fine.”
“But—” Before he can get any deeper in to explanations or excuses, the door opens and Gabe prowls in.
“Time to go.”
“I need to change really quick.”
“Do it,” he commands.
I glsnce around pointedly at the lack of privacy, and both men spin to walk out of the small room and back into the garage.
Before he clears the door, Manny turns back and looks at me. It seems like he wants to say something but is holding back, so I smile brightly to show him that I’m fine when I’m anything but.
Good news is they won’t see me cry.
Worst day ever.
As soon as the door clicks behind him, I change back into my travel sweats and tuck my phone into my pocket. I quickly and efficiently pack up my fire suit and my gear for transport. The crew will load it up and take it and anything else, with the car when they load it onto the trailer.
When I walk out of the little room, I hear Gabe and Manny arguing quietly.
“It’s fine,” Gabe bites out. “Just leave it.”
“Do you know what you’re doing with her?” Manny asks.
“I said to leave it.”
“You keep doing what you’re doing if that’s want you,” Manny says, “but I can’t promise there won’t be blowback on you.”
“There won’t be anything,” Gabe snaps.
“As you say, hermano.”
“Uh… I’m ready to go.”
“We’re done here,” Gabe says to Manny, then leads me out to the SUV.
When we climb in, I pull out my earbuds and pop them in my ears, selecting my Peaceful playlist on my phone. I lean my head against the cool glass of the tinted window and watch the lines on the highway blur past us. And before I know it, I drift off to sleep.
“Adrienne. We’re here. Wake up.”
At the whispered words, I blink my eyes open to see I’ve fallen forward in my seat. Gabe and I are practically touching as he leans over me, nose to nose. I jump back and get tangled in my seat belt.
“Wh-What?” I stammer.
“We’re here.”
I look up and see my house. It’s dark now, and even though I’ve slept the entire drive from Los Angeles, I still feel exhausted. Today was a high of highs and still had some pretty epic lows. I’m not sure how much more I have in me, now or any day in the near to far future.
I mumble, “Okay,” before climbing out of the car.
I stand quiet and obedient while Gabe makes sure the house is safe. And when he lets me in, I go straight to the kitchen and pull down a wine glass, grabbing a bottle of wine and a water bottle from the fridge.
“Hungry?” he asks, and I startle a bit. I didn’t realize he’d followed me into the kitchen.
“What? Oh, no,” I answer. “I think I’m just going to take a hot bath and go to bed.”
“Are you sure?” His gaze drops to the bottle in my hand before meeting mine again. “I could fix something quick.”
“No, no. It’s been a long day. You’re off babysitting duty. Have a good night, Gabe.”
And then with my wine and water, I scurry around him and head up the stairs. I close my bedroom door, flip the lock, and drop my forehead to rest against the cool painted-wood surface. What the hell is going on in my life? The need to get a grip, to gain control, is overwhelming.
I stand and take a deep breath, moving into my bathroom.
I set the wine and the glass on the counter and turn the taps to fill the tub, then crack open the water bottle and chug the cold water.
I unravel my braid and pull my heavy hair up into a messy knot on top of my head.
Then I strip off my clothes and put them in the hamper.
Maybe I would do better if there was a little more neat-and-orderly in my life.
Then again, maybe not.
I pour myself a glass of wine and grab the bottle, stepping over the edge of the tub.
I sink down into the hot water, sipping from my glass and let the crisp, fruity flavor burst on my tongue.
And the day, all of it, seems to overwhelm me.
The win, the gunfire, and the undeniable knowledge that Gabe thinks I’m good enough to fuck but does not find one additional thing about me likeable.
I set the glass on the floor next to the tub and lean forward, wrapping my arms around the front of my legs, and drop my cheek to the top of my knees.
I squeeze my eyes closed in an effort to shut out the events of the day, but it’s no use.
I feel the bullet whiz past my head. I hear the report and feel his heavy body covering mine.
And then I hear fresa, fresa, fresa repeated over and over again in my head.
I’ll never be enough, never be seen as anything other than a spoiled bitch.
Maybe I should stop letting them protect me and let the bad guys win for a change because I’m just so fucking tired. I’m tired of it all, the pressure, the fame, the way the world wants to look at me from afar but never truly know me.
Unwillingly, I let the first teardrop fall.
And then the next.
And the next.
A sob bubbles up from my chest, and I finally give in and just let myself cry until I think I have nothing left.
With a hiccup, I climb out of the now cool water and towel off. I pull on a tank and pajama shorts, forgetting all about the abandoned wine in the bathroom, and I tuck myself in and pray I find sleep.
Instead, all I find are more tears.