7. Serenity
Chapter seven
Serenity
T he rest of the night goes by without any drama. Ivanov watches me but doesn't say anything else to me. Declan, Daniel, and Harrison, all watch me, too, without comment. I serve the tables assigned to me, chat with Benji, and collect my tips.
The customers start to fade away and just before three AM it's almost empty. I'm exhausted. My feet hurt, my calves hurt, and I haven't eaten anything all day except the sandwich Daniel made me. But I'd survived my first shift, and I prayed it was good enough to get me a second one.
I head to the front, not wanting Declan to wait for me. He'd been nice enough to offer me a guest bedroom, so I have to make it up to him. I'm not sure where he was, but before I reach the front foyer, he's walking beside me.
Declan motions to the front door and I step out into the freezing night air. Sitting at the curb is a black car with a man standing next to it. He opens the back door as Declan approaches. I'm stuck still on the sidewalk, unable to move myself forward.
Declan said he would drive me to his house. Not that he would have a driver waiting for him. For some reason, I know I need to get into the back of the car, especially when Declan motions for me to go in first, but I can't physically get my body to move.
He sighs gently before coming back for me and placing a hand on my lower back. The touch, the warmth, the gentle shove unstick my feet for me.
"Serenity, this is Joseph, my driver. Joseph, this is Miss Serenity."
The older man dips his head towards me. "Evening, Miss Serenity."
The simple greeting is welcome. I know how to do this.
"Good evening, Joseph."
I slide into the back seat and to the farthest away from Declan, trying to take up as little room as possible. I've already majorly inconvenienced him.
***
I wake with a full-body start. It's dark. I don't know where I am. My skin prickles with adrenaline. I'm not safe. I whip my head side-to-side, trying to understand where I am, but my eyesight is blurry, and it's dark. I'm panting. The breath I'm sucking in is not enough. My heart is pounding so hard my neck and my forehead ache and my ears whoosh, which means I can hear a man's voice, but I don't know who he is and I don't know what he's saying.
I blink rapidly and see movement. I scramble away from the dark, blurry vision of a man.
I'm not safe.
I whimper, realizing I can't escape because something hard is behind me. My hands fly out in front of me, my face turned away as if I can protect it from the man.
"Serenity!" He shouts, grabbing both of my wrists. My whimpering becomes a high-pitched whine. "No, no, no, no, no, please!"
A second male voice joins the first and my terror consumes me. I'm full-on bawling now, certain that this is the end. Two loud doors slamming blanket me in quiet. But the quiet only means my heartbeat in my ears and my breathing is deafening. Eventually, the quiet feels comforting. The men are gone and aren't a threat anymore. I focus on slowing my breath and focusing my weary eyes.
I'm in a car.
And it's nighttime.
And beyond the windows is a gorgeous-looking townhouse. Shadows are created by the streetlights and the front lights of the building. Standing outside, casting shadows, are two men. One is speaking while the other runs his hands through his hair.
Oh.
Oh.
As if today didn't bring enough shame and embarrassment with everything else, I freaked out on the one person offering me shelter and safety. As if I didn't already feel unworthy of both.
Internally, I berate myself. Even as my breathing slows down, I kick myself for being such a fucking nutcase. I can't just be normal, can I? He was only trying to wake me up because I'd fallen asleep, and I went full-on psycho on him. Maybe this is what breaks the camel's back. Maybe this is when he decides I'm not worth the effort.
Feeling slightly calmer than a few minutes before, I open my door and stand. The car being a barrier between us somehow makes me feel safer.
"I...I'm sorry...you startled me..." But the bottom line is I don't have a good excuse. I'm a freak. A burden everywhere I go. Worthless.
I stare at my shoes.
I'm relying on the generosity of a very grumpy sex-club owner, a man I met today who took pity on me. Hot tears threaten to slip between my eyelids. My situation, my embarrassment, and my self-loathing have hit an all-time low. I look down the street, wondering if it would be better for everyone, easier for everyone, if I wasn't here; if I didn't exist. What good was I, anyway? I don't contribute to society in any meaningful way. If I was gone, no one would miss me. DC might even be a better place for it. I'm what? A homeless, failed sex-club waitress who can't even remember orders without writing them down explicitly.
I don't want to break down in front of these men. They've been kind to me, but I don't want their kindness. I want to find the nearest bridge and jump off of it. The Potomac is mostly frozen now. I've heard freezing to death is a nice way to go.
Joseph approaches me slowly, around the front of the car.
"Miss Serenity? It's alright. You were sleeping, and we woke you up. We're sorry for startling you."
I look at Declan. Joseph is speaking a lot for him right now. Is he really sorry? Or is Joseph smoothing things out?
I don't know. And right now, I don't care. I'm tired and I want to escape from today, whatever that looks like.
"Let's get you inside, into your new bedroom, comfortable, and then maybe you can sleep again without interruption." Joseph casts a sideways glance at Declan, almost chastising him. But that can't be right. Joseph works for Declan. He'd never correct him, right?
I nod again, too fucking tired to do anything else. I follow Joseph into the beautiful townhome, my feet shuffling, my head cast down. All I know is that I'm too tired to fight anything.
Joseph opens a door, and a beautifully decorated guest bedroom appears before me. I don't know how I feel about it. It's too opulent for me. It's also too cold. Declan could bring anyone here. A sister, a stranger, a politician. But then I guess he doesn't really care where I sleep. Joseph shows me the bathroom and suggests a shower. And after twenty-four hours on my feet, a shower sounds decadent.
I thank Joseph lamely. I don't even have enough energy to instill enthusiasm into my voice. I start the shower, put it to hot, and strip naked before I get in. Hot water is a luxury I'm not accustomed to. But the need to burn away the day hits me to my core. If I can burn, if I can punish myself for being so... me... if I can feel the pain... maybe I'll be able to sleep tonight.
I do a rush job of washing my body and my hair before I turn the shower off. Wrapped in a towel, I realize I don't have anything to sleep in. I stare at the pile of dirty clothes but wrinkle my nose. I really don't want to sleep in dirty clothes. I also don't want to sleep naked in the house with a man I don't know.
I step into the guest bedroom again; the steam trailing behind me. At the foot of the bed, I notice a neatly folded forest green t-shirt. I walk over to the small pile and run my fingers against the soft fabric of the shirt. It must be his. And it's been well worn. It's a surprisingly thoughtful gesture. He knew I wouldn't have anything to sleep in, so he lent me his shirt. And when I pick the shirt up to pull it over my head, I notice a folded pair of black boxer briefs as well. His boxer briefs.
The thoughtful gesture has reality crashing against me hard. In a pile on the bathroom floor, dirty, is everything I own in the entire world. I wouldn't even have clothes to sleep in if Declan hadn't left me these. Or did Joseph? The crushing weight of my situation weighs me down heavily. I flop onto the floor, cross-legged, and simply cry.
I knew things with my parents were bad. I knew they weren't good parents. But I never gave up hope that one day I'd get ahead. One day it wouldn't be so bad. One day it wouldn't be so hard. I never imagined being loved by them.
But tolerated? Maybe there'd be a day where I made enough that they could get enough of their fix, and the bills would be paid, and maybe we could have lived at least comfortably? That's all I wanted. To be comfortable. To not have to scramble and fight for every tiny thing.
After a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I put the shirt and boxers on and take a moment to appreciate how soft the fabric is, and how well the boxers hug my bottom half. I don't want to think about whose clothes they are. I'm grateful I don't have to sleep naked.
I don't hear from Joseph or Declan anymore that night. Thank God, because I'm not sure I'd know what to tell them.
It isn't until hours later that I have a problem.
I'm laying on a mattress as soft as a pillow, and I'm so tired I could sleep for a week. But for some reason, sleep doesn't find me. The comforter is decadent, and the mattress is leagues above the one I have at home where I have to sleep in a specific way to avoid the springs that threaten to come through the fabric.
I can hear the sound of the city muffled outside, but instead of soothing me to sleep like it normally does, it sounds too quiet, too far away. I can't hear the constant drum of the window AC unit from our apartment or music or shouting from the neighbors.
I look at the clock to see it's already 5 am. I have no idea what time Declan gets up, but I peek out of my door and find the house quiet and empty. I didn't pay attention when Joseph showed me to my room, but I tiptoe into the hallway, balancing on the balls of my feet so the wood doesn't squeak. My heart races as if he's going to find me any second and be angry with me.
His home is simple but incredibly elegant. The hardwood floors are older, but clean. The wide baseboards and detailed crown molding hint that this is one of the older homes in the city.
I cross through two sitting rooms, both with couches, fireplaces, and bookshelves full of older-looking books. Through a dining room at the back of the house, I finally find the kitchen.
I just want a glass of water. That should be okay, right? I don't think he'll be mad at me for just water.
I move slowly, trying to tilt the glass and fill it silently. I drink half of it down before curiosity gets the better of me and I start to look at the kitchen around me. I want to see how the other half lives. There's a massive gas stove with eight burners and a huge refrigerator. I open it to see it fully stocked with everything I could ever imagine. Sodas, juices, smoothies, fruits, vegetables, leftover containers - all organized in neat little plastic totes.
It's enough to make me cry. I close it gently before opening the pantry.
The walk-in pantry looks like a small grocery store. He has enough food here to feed an army. I take a few cautious steps in and let my gaze run over all of the different packages. Pasta, canned veg, sugar, cookies, four different types of flour. Four!
I let out a stunned breath.
Serenity, we're not in Kansas anymore.
I don't even know what I would do with all of this. I wouldn't have to go grocery shopping for months. The urge to use all of these ingredients hits me hard. I guess when you live with scarcity, you want to latch on to any sudden abundance.
I feel... calm.
And tired.
It's silly how a man's pantry could have such an impact on me, but it does. I guess food has always represented my poverty.
It's always been the one thing we could go without. When my parents are drunk or high, they're not hungry. When I sleep, I'm not hungry. So food was always the last thing we spent money on. Food was a luxury we couldn't always afford.
My eyelids are heavy now and my heart is finally slowing down. I could just take a quick cat nap in here and be gone by the time Declan wakes up.
I'm not bothering him or anything.
I lay down on the hard, cold floor, but it's actually more comforting than his super soft mattress.
I swear I've barely laid down before I'm out.