Chapter Twenty-Five #3
He holds out his arms for a hug, but Micah doesn’t move from in front of me. I can’t see Micah’s face, but I’ve seen his eyes when they turn dangerous and I’m sure—based on the way Nigel stepped back—that’s exactly how they look now.
Nigel, never wanting to concede his supposed alpha male spot, clears his throat and pivots his approach. “Well, how have you been? I saw you stopped doing runway and started doing little, um, videos, right?”
Please. His comments on several of my posts were practically begging me to notice him. Now he wants to pretend they were barely a blip on his radar. “Yep. Best decision I ever made.” My voice conveys a strength I don’t feel.
He smiles, just barely covering the sneer I know he wants to send my way. He’s deemed my career change inadequate because it’s taken me out of his web of control. I know this, and yet it still eats me up to see him do it.
“Good, good. Well, how long are you here for? We should get dinner to catch up,” he offers.
“Nah,” Micah responds. He doesn’t offer any excuse or try to soften the blow, he just shuts the possibility down with one word. It’s incredibly attractive.
Nigel, noticeably avoiding Micah’s gaze, waits for a response. As if Micah’s was invalid.
Normally, I would say something along the lines of “sorry, we’re actually heading out now” or “maybe next time,” anything to make myself seem unbothered, but Micah’s strength feeds mine, pushing me to say what I really want.
“I would rather chew on a jean jacket than share a meal with you.”
Nigel balks at that. “Excuse me?”
“You’re disgusting. You’re a predator who has to rely on his status to force your way into women’s lives. Men like you don’t deserve to draw breath, so no, I don’t want to ‘grab dinner and catch up,’” I say in quotes. “I’m embarrassed to even be talking to you.”
His stunned expression shifts into a maniacal grin. “Wow. You’re serious. Danielle, if I hadn’t discovered you, you’d still be—”
I don’t give him the chance to finish. “I’d still be what? Does it make you proud to say you find women when they’re young and vulnerable and take advantage of them? Does that make you a man in your eyes?”
“I never took advantage of you. I gave you what you wanted.” When Nigel’s gaze wanders down my body, Micah clenches his jaw.
“You didn’t give me anything that I didn’t earn.”
He lets out a small chuckle.
“Men who get a ton of work done to still be a five should never laugh,” I add.
All the color drains from his face.
My fingers start to twitch and spots cloud the corners of my eyes.
We have to wrap this up. Nigel will not win.
I’m not sure he’s ever been in this position before.
He’s used to being the one to make people—women in particular—cower before him.
When he saw me, he thought he’d get a quick boost to his ego and disparage me.
I hope he chokes on regret for approaching me today.
When he opens his mouth again, Micah speaks first. “Do you have anything else to say?” he asks me.
“No. I’m finished.”
Micah looks back at Nigel. “Then I suggest you walk away while that’s still an option.”
Nigel makes up some excuse to get as far away as possible.
I don’t turn to blatantly watch him, but I do keep him in my sights until I can’t anymore. Then, I fall apart.
The thumping of my heart is so loud in my ears, I’m sure my eardrums are about to burst. My trembling hands have given way to full-blown tremors. I try to grab my right hand to stop its shaking, but it only causes the shaking to spread through the rest of my body.
“Dani. Hey, hey, look at me.”
I hear Micah’s voice, but it sounds so far away, lost in the spinning void that is my head.
Deep breaths, Dani. Deep breaths.
That does nothing to ease the tremors.
You’re okay. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.
I keep repeating the mantra to myself, but my head keeps spinning. It’s getting so bad I have to close my eyes to keep from tipping over. My breath becomes shorter and shorter until I hear myself choking from somewhere outside of my body.
Micah keeps calling my name. At least, I think that’s what he’s saying, but his voice is faint and foggy.
“You’re okay. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.
Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine.” Saying the words out loud doesn’t make this feeling subside.
Maybe giving in would be the better option.
Just let the sensation overtake me until it decides to spit me back out.
I resolve to do just that when I feel my feet leave the ground.
I register a hard surface pressed against my body.
“Dani. Listen to me, okay? Follow the sound of my voice. I need you to tell me five things you see around you. Okay? Just five things.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them, I see we’re in a bathroom. Not a public bathroom—we’re in someone’s home.
I blink repeatedly until the features of the room start to get less blurry. “Sink. Shower. Mirror. Cabinet. Tile.”
“Good job. Okay, can you tell me four things you can touch?”
Trying my best to focus, I start swinging my hands around.
“Floor.” My hands settle on the cold, hard floor beneath us, my body finally recognizing another temperature other than boiling.
“Nose.” I touch the tip of my finger to the tip of my nose.
“Lips.” I let my finger slide down my face until it reaches those lips, just to make sure they’re still there.
“You.” I hold his wrist in my hand, counting the beats of his pulse.
“You’re doing so good, Dani. Now give me three things you can hear.”
“Pulse. Clock. Laughter.” Laughter drifts through the open window in the bathroom. It sounds specifically like children’s laughter.
“Two things you can smell.”
I don’t hesitate. “Lavender. Musk.”
His features are more prominent now, so I see the edges of his lips twist into a grin.
“You’re almost done, Dani. One thing you can taste.”
I lick my lips, the flavor of my ChapStick coating my tongue. “Cherry.”
He takes a few deep breaths, motioning for me to do the same, and I do.
The trembling in my hands subsides and I can finally hear myself think over the sounds of my heartbeat.
“How do you feel?” he asks, scanning every inch of my face twice over.
“Better.” And it’s not a lie. I’m so grateful for my breaths coming easier that I don’t have the emotional capacity to feel embarrassed that Micah is seeing me like this. “Where are we?”
The bathroom, though nice, feels very clinical. It’s a stark white and there are no personal touches anywhere.
“We were right by a hotel my boy owns. I got him to get us into a room real quick.”
I must’ve been pretty bad if I didn’t notice any of that.
“Got it. Well, tell him I said thank you.” The shame is starting to creep into my consciousness now.
“Don’t do that, Storm.”
My head flies up at his authoritative voice. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t be ashamed of this. You’re safe with me.”
And I know he means that. I feel it every time we’re together and even when we’re not. I nod my acknowledgment, and he relaxes.
Let go, Dani. Let him be there for you.
Hot tears scorch my face, and as fast as I swipe them away, more keep coming.
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
I nod vehemently and he pulls me into him, burying my head against his chest and planting soft kisses on the top of my scalp.
“None of it is your fault.”
That’s all he says. It might take some time for me to believe that, but I want to get there. I let myself be held by him for a while longer, not even caring if my makeup is transferring onto his shirt.
When the tears finally stop falling, I sit up and watch in awe as Micah gracefully moves around the bathroom, running a washcloth under water and using it to dab the tears from my face. He steps out to give me privacy to touch up my makeup.
I pop a pain pill when the signs of a tension headache start showing and take a minute to observe the woman in the mirror. She looks like hell, but she feels lighter. That’s a start.
When I open the bathroom door, Micah is sitting on the edge of the bed concentrating on something on his phone. He looks up and he doesn’t look at me like a disaster. He looks at me like a gift.
We walk out of the hotel, and it feels like an entire day has gone by. I want to go home and crawl in my bed, but I’m doing what Tanya asked of me. It will take more than this one confrontation, but I’m stealing my life back from this city.
“Can we go home now?” I ask. I don’t care if it’s his home or mine, I just want to stay with him.
“Of course we can.”
A short plane ride later, we make it back to my house and Micah takes such good care of me. He pulls me into the shower, scrubbing every inch of my body. He dresses me in my favorite silk pajamas and he holds me while we watch a movie.
Long after he falls asleep, my body is calm, but my mind is still reeling. I’m full of disappointment that I wasn’t able to keep my emotions at bay, gratitude that Micah was there with me, and rage at Nigel’s boldness.
I tap into that rage as I grab my camera to set it up. Rage I can do well, and it’s time I direct its laser at the people who put it there.
I don’t bother setting up any aesthetics for the video. I just sit in front of the camera and press record.
“We need to talk about why Nigel Pierce and men like him are dangerous to this industry.”