Chapter 8 SOS - Avery
“You can drop me here, thanks.” Handing the cab driver a twenty, I shut the door behind me, staring up at the sign to the RV park. The pink and blue neon sign glitched, the power on the fritz, and “The Oasis RV Park” looked everything but like an Oasis.
Cold. Uninviting. Run-down.
Tucked away in a dark corner off the Strip, The Oasis, felt nothing like home and everything like a steppingstone in my life that I prayed could only lead to something greater. It had to go up from here.
The gravel crunched beneath my feet, and with every step I took closer to my van, my stomach sank.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the old VW had a run-down engine by now, unable to drive.
After my breakup, I took the beat-up metal box and parked her here without thinking twice, refusing to let my spot go.
If I just up and left, anyone could take my place, and this damn parking spot was the closest thing I had to a permanent home.
When I was sixteen, I inherited this van. Ol’ Red, I called her. When everything else was taken from me, I refused to let her go.
Dad died of an overdose when I was ten years old and Mom never recovered from him leaving us. Mom wanted so badly to join him that she took up his addiction. I may have only been a kid, but it only took one time of getting kicked out of the garage to realize it wasn’t dinner Mom was cooking.
When Mom had parties and told me to go to my room, I’d sneak out of my bedroom window and slip into the van for some peace and quiet. Ol’ Red was the only place where I knew what happiness felt like.
Before Dad died, we’d take her on road trips, drive the coast, find a place to park, and watch the sunset as the waves crashed against the shore. We’d grab some fast food, play cards, and camp out overnight before heading back home. It was always just the three of us.
Thinking of such a far-off memory, when life was completely different, it felt like a fabrication or a dream.
For countless nights, Ol’ Red was a safety blanket for me. Old crusty seats that smelled of fried food became my bed, and the exposed foam from the rips played as my entertainment. The red van acted as a sound barrier between Mom’s poor excuse of a life and my cries for a better one.
As a kid, every night, I’d gaze through the sunroof toward the moonlight, and wait for a shooting star, hoping that falling star would be my way out. Even when I didn’t see one, I’d squeeze my eyes shut and wish for Ol’ Red to whisk me away.
Unfortunately, a wish upon a star wouldn’t save me, Narnia wasn’t real, and everything you saw in movies and read in books as a child were only there to protect you from what life really was.
Six long years later, Mom finally got her wish and joined Dad, leaving me to fend for myself. Scared out of my mind to enter the foster care system, my ex-boyfriend’s mom was kind enough to take me in at just sixteen.
All that was left from my past was the place I now called home. And just like the van was when I was a kid—a safe space surrounded by darkness—it served the same purpose here in this neglected RV park.
Fiddling with my keys, the sharp edges ran along my finger. I glanced up at my tiny home—Ol’ Red had come a long way. We’d been through it all together.
With a stove that was once used to make hot chocolate for cold nights on the beach, it now provided me with hot soup or mac and cheese at the end of a long day.
The old fabric seats that reeked of fried chicken and burgers, were changed out with faux leather—giving off a cozier look.
The warm lighting, greenery, and inviting décor that made my home mine, was nothing it used to be for a quick road trip or the run-down version of Ol’ Red as she collected dust parked in the driveway.
Ol’ Red had been repurposed for the better. She was built to keep me safe long term—for however long I’d call her my home.
After unlocking the door, I was immediately greeted by my bed.
There was very little space that wasn’t utilized by the tiny kitchen, small bed, or storage areas, but I made it work.
Luckily, there were bathrooms on-site. Another reason I couldn’t afford to give up my parking spot.
Most RV parks were usually filled with trailers that had bathrooms of their own.
On the occasion that I had an overnight with a client, or I worked my shifts at the pool, I mostly used showers that weren’t the ones at the RV park.
The idea of showering at night in a cold building separate from my van didn’t feel right.
At first, it was a difficult adjustment, but I’d been able to build a routine and come around to how life had to go for just a while longer.
Slipping out of my dress and heels, I threw on an oversized shirt and boy shorts to sleep in.
A sigh escaped my mouth as I leaned back, and my head hit the pillow. Warm white Christmas lights ran along the interior of the van, illuminating the small dark space. Only seconds had passed when my stomach growled, echoing throughout the cabin.
Space to store groceries was almost nonexistent. I often shopped while I was out, only keeping a handful of items to eat on hand at a time. After getting up, I searched the cabinets to find half a loaf of bread and some expired peanut butter.
It would have to do.
Sandwich in one hand, my phone in the other, I pulled up the group text with my girls and typed out a quick message.
Me: SOS
Tonight was supposed to be just another night on the job. Instead, it was a total shit show. One that I needed to talk to my girls about.
Andi: Uh oh. What’s up girl?
Peyton: He asked you out, didn’t he?
Me: Yes…
Andi: Called it! You owe me $10.
Me: I didn’t agree to that bet.
Peyton: Okay, spill! He asked you out, now what?
Me: This has been the longest most confusing night of my life.
Me: First, I ran into him at the pool, he tipped me FAT, then he gave me his phone number and asked me out.
Andi: How fat is fat? Like fat enough that you can give me the $10 you owe me?
Peyton: LOL.
Me: $1000...
Peyton: Um, I’m sorry… WHAT?
Andi: Did you fat finger the zero too many times?
Me: Nope. He tipped me one thousand fucking dollars.
Andi: And I’m guessing you used his number to text him? Maybe thank him with a titty pic? It’s the least you could do babe.
Me: Wrong. But I did see him tonight…
Peyton: Holy shit, I’m still stuck on the fact that he tipped you like crazy. You’re telling me you didn’t properly thank him?
Me: He asked me out. I wanted to say yes, badly. But I had to work tonight. I planned to use his number when I got home but then I ran into him before I had the chance...
Me: WHILE I WAS WORKING.
Andi: Oh, shit…
Peyton: That can’t be good…
Just as I was trying to text back, my screen filled with an incoming phone call.
“LUCIFER IS CALLING – DON’T ANSWER” flashed on the screen as a warning.
After my lying, cheating, blackmailing, ex-boyfriend turned into a wolf in sheep’s clothing, I took Ol’ Red, changed his contact’s name, and got the hell out of dodge.
I wish I could say we didn’t talk anymore, but he was the reason my life was a dumpster fire.
He was the reason I ate peanut butter sandwiches and dry ramen noodles for dinner.
He was the reason I could only treat myself to a couple of cheap drinks a week.
He was the reason I couldn’t afford to rent a place, so I was living out of my van.
He was the fucking reason I had to put my post college dreams on hold and sell myself to the high rollers of Las Vegas.
After ignoring three straight phone calls, I returned to my group chat.
Me: Meet me for brunch at Bluff City tomorrow so we can finish this conversation. Lucifer is blowing up my phone, gotta turn it off for the night.
Powering off my phone and switching off the string lights, I pulled up my laptop and played one of the hundreds of movies I had downloaded, hoping it would help me fall asleep.
Even after years of sleeping in my van, there was still something unsettling about trying to fall asleep in this cold environment. Especially after my ex-boyfriend had just blown up my phone.
Just as my eyes began to give in, the heaviness taking over, three loud knocks on my window startled me.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
My body stiffened, his voice echoing through the thin metal walls as I clutched the wooden bat at my bedside.
“Open up, Avery! If you aren’t going to answer my phone calls, you damn well better answer the door.”
He hardly made house calls. It was only as of recently—the more clients I took on in order to make more money, the higher payments I made to get this all over with sooner—that he started acting more erratically.
A whimper crept from my shaky lower lip, hopeful that he would walk away and assume I wasn’t here.
“Answer me right now, Avery, or I swear I’ll break a window!” he shouted, likely waking up the entire RV park in the process.
“H-hold on!” My voice wavered.
Gripping my bat, I reached for the lock with every intention to meet him outside.
Unfortunately, he was quicker.
“What the fuck are you going to do with that? Huh?” His eyes traveled down my body and back to what protected me from him. “Scoot back,” he ordered.
He kept the door open as he sat on the edge of my bed, me on the opposite side, as far away from him as possible.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “What are you doing here?” I could only hope that the tremble in my voice didn’t sound as scared as I knew I felt deep down.
“I’m here to collect. You owe me and it’s the seventeenth. You’re two days late and I’ve been more than patient.” His dark eyes glared at me, glowing like a hungry wolf in the night.
Fuck. How could I forget the date? I was never late.
I did this to my fucking self. I should have known it would trigger this type of response.
“I’ll send the money in the morning. Just waiting for a check to clear,” I answered, praying my excuse would be enough.
“Don’t forget, if you’re late, the video I posted of you on the internet can easily stay there longer.
Just think of all the men’s fantasies you’ll be able to fulfill in the meantime.
” My stomach clenched at his manic laugh—a laugh that still felt so foreign to me, and the complete opposite of the carefree chuckle that used to slip out in our past.
Jax was my boyfriend for eight years. We moved here together to start a new life. Him and his mom took me in when I’d lost everything. Never in my life did I think that the video I allowed him to take of me, for his eyes only, would be used against me as revenge porn blackmail.
“You’ll have your money in the morning. Promise.”
Creeping closer to me, Jax reached his hand out; a devious smirk looking nothing like the smile I used to know grew on his face as he ran his thumb along my lower lip. A move like that used to drive me wild, only now, I flinched at the feeling of his hands on me.
“I have to imagine that whatever you’re doing to earn so much money, it’s perfectly suited for you.
You always were an easy fuck, willing to do whatever I told you to do.
” My insides boiled. The overwhelming urge to bite his finger off and kick him between the legs only made my grip grow tighter around the hard wood of the baseball bat.
My breathing picked up, but my words were lodged in my throat. As tears threatened to spill over, another sinister chuckle escaped his mouth.
“Send me my money first thing in the morning and add on another five grand for being late, or I’ll be right back here to greet you as you wake up. Got it?” he threatened.
After biting my tongue to argue about the extra money he tacked on, I offered a quick nod and watched as he left.
The stench of cigarettes was the only thing left behind, immediately sending my mind into a downward spiral of the past.
His engine roared as the noisy muscle car skid out of the RV park. The further he drove away, the more at ease I felt. But it didn’t stop the tears from soaking my pillow and the dark thoughts invading my mind as I tried to fall asleep.
As teenagers, Jax had his moments of rage.
But it was never anything close to how he’d grown to be since the end of our relationship.
Even in his worst moments, I remembered a kid who was like any other—emotional and hormonal.
Sometimes, he’d get into it with his mom, he’d get mad.
But on my worst days, he was happy and made my grayest days shine a little brighter.
Jax grew up with a single mother. There wasn’t a man around to show him how to treat a woman.
So even when he wasn’t the boyfriend of the year, he was still the closest thing I had to a best friend growing up.
Vegas was supposed to be our escape. Our new beginning.
Getting out of our hometown was supposed to help us grow.
I didn’t have a plan set in stone. I just wanted to get out.
I’d get a job and let the pieces fall into place.
Going to college and getting a general degree in business didn’t guarantee any job for my future, but it was a step in the right direction.
Las Vegas was supposed to offer endless opportunities—maybe I’d work in the hospitality industry, who knows?
Instead, something grabbed ahold of Jax the moment we entered the city, and it has yet to let go.
He turned into someone I didn’t recognize.
A man who lied, cheated, and had to have every ounce of control.
He’d forgotten who he used to be, and this new version of him couldn’t give a damn what he was holding over my head.
The one thing that was clear as day: any dream I had for my future would have to wait.
Walking away from a relationship like ours was supposed to be freeing. Yet, I was paying the price every single day, and all I ever did was love him.
Tears continued to flow, and thoughts of never being good enough echoed in my mind like a lullaby, drifting me to sleep.
Even if I wanted to be with a man like Spencer, I would never deserve him.