Chapter 5
Arianna
Lottie joins us after finishing work, and we sit on the balcony on the shaded side of the hotel.
The Las Vegas sunshine is too hot to sit in directly, but it’s great to be outside in the fresh air.
If you had asked me a week ago what I thought I would be doing right now, I certainly wouldn’t have painted this picture.
It feels like I have known Dana for years, she’s easy company and very sweet.
She rolls her eyes at Lottie’s antics, but it’s all done in an affectionate motherly kind of way which is just what Lottie needs as her own parents are so dysfunctional.
Lottie is a little quieter than usual, I notice.
She’s not so quick to fire comebacks where I would expect her to, and she seems somewhat subdued.
It might be because she homed in on the truffles as soon as she arrived and hasn’t had more than a minute without her mouth being full of the chocolatey deliciousness.
And damn if I wasn’t a little outraged that she let herself in and finished them off.
And, in true Lottie fashion, she insisted we opened a bottle of Prosecco, just because we can.
The only lady missing from this picture is my mom. I’d put money on it that she would get along fabulously with Dana, and maybe a little further down the line it’s a picture that will be possible to arrange.
“Is everything okay, Lottie?” Dana asks casually, but I don’t miss the gentle concern in her voice.
“Sure,” she mumbles unconvincingly around a mouthful of truffle.
“You’re quiet,” Dana remarks.
Lottie shrugs, then sighs. “I had a shitty day … I had a complaint from a customer,” she says, looking into her lap.
“Wanna talk about it, babe?” I offer.
“No,” she grumbles before she can’t hold it in any longer and blurts out, “Can you fucking believe it? A complaint … Asshole. Well, he wasn’t smiling when I poured his gin and tonic into his lap, was he?
No, he wasn’t. Maybe he’ll think twice about snapping his fingers at me like I should come to heel like a pet dog, then having the audacity to complain because he asked for ice and no lemon and instead I gave him lemon and no ice.
” She rants the whole sentence in just one breath.
Dana is looking on, her eyes wide with a smile to match.
Lottie is unique, but it’s hard not to love her.
She might have flame red hair and the temper to go with it but she has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known.
“Lottie!” Dana says unbelievably. “You can’t go around throwing drinks into customer’s laps.”
“Well, he was an asshole,” Lottie grumbles.
“So what did your boss say?” I ask.
“Oh look! We’re out of Prosecco, I’ll go to the fridge and get some more, shall I?” She hops up from her chair in one swift move and makes an escape back into the apartment.
“Lottie!” Both Dana and I shout out to her at the same time. I hear her footsteps falter then scurry away. Lottie doesn’t usually use avoidance tactics. She’s a straight up, head on kind of girl. So, I’m beginning to think there’s more to her story than she’s letting on.
“Do you want to go check on her, or shall I?” Dana asks.
“I think maybe we should just give her a minute, she’ll come out in her own time. You know Lottie, she’ll talk when she’s ready. She can’t stay quiet for long.”
Dana and I chat for a few minutes before realizing that Lottie still hasn’t come back with the Prosecco, and for her to avoid us this long really means something is up.
“I’m going to go check on Lottie. This is unusual for her,” I say, before making my way back through the balcony doors. As I step through the doorway, I let my eyes adjust from the bright sunlight to the cool, shadowed room.
“Lottie …” I call. No answer. She’s not in the kitchen area or the lounge, but her bag is still where she slung it on the back of the couch, and her shoes are left in the middle of the lounge rug in true Lottie, haphazard style.
If Lottie could spend her life barefoot, she would.
She’s constantly torn between her love of heels and the freedom of letting her feet breathe.
If you saw this girl’s shoe collection, you’d think she was crazy.
“Lottie … Where are you?”
I pad through the bedroom and stop at the closed bathroom door.
“Lottie?” I say, quieter this time.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she calls back. Her voice sounds different and I’m sure I hear her sniffle.
“Babe, is something wrong?”
No answer.
I push down the handle slowly and crack the door open. Lottie is sitting on the edge of the tub, with her elbows on her knees, and her head bowed. She has handfuls of tissues and when she looks up at me she has mascara streaks running down her face.
“Oh my god. Lottie, what is it? What’s happened?”
I rush forward and hold on to her shoulders, making her look up in my direction.
“Nothing,” she says trying to stand and brush me off. “I’m just a bit hormonal is all.”
“I call bullshit, Lotts. Tell me or I won’t let you leave this bathroom.” I stand in front of her indignantly with my arms crossed.
“Ari. I’m not in the mood for playing, okay?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“No?”
“No. I’m not playing. I won’t let you leave until you tell me what the problem is. You would do exactly the same if it were me, right?”
She shrugs her shoulders then drops them dejectedly.
“Right. So … What happened? It’s obviously something that happened at work. Did you get fired for throwing the drink over your customer?”
“No … Well, not exactly for that.”
“What, so you did get fired?”
“Yes,” she squeaks through a sob that catches in her throat. Tears spring from her eyes and she can’t stop them. This is not my fierce, strong friend. I could count the number of times I’ve seen Lottie cry on one hand.
I pull her into me, wrapping my arms tightly around her hunched shoulders and cradling her head into my shoulder.
“Are you upset about getting fired or is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I can’t tell you …”
I push her shoulders away and push up her chin with my index finger.
“Lottie. You are my best friend. You can tell me anything … and everything.” I feel like a hypocrite saying this to her as I should have told her about Jonny and everything that was happening at the time, but I couldn’t bring myself to voice it aloud.
At the time, I didn’t know if it would have helped or made things worse, and I was in so deep that I couldn’t see a way out so it seemed best that she knew as little as possible.
She would have felt so helpless, just like I do now, knowing there’s something hurting my best friend and she doesn’t know how to tell me.
“Please tell me, Lotts …” I whisper.
“I can’t. Spike will go mental. It’s stupid anyway …”
“Well, maybe just tell me first then we can work out what to do, together.”
She sucks in a huge breath, trying to compose herself and steady her uneven breaths.
“My boss was pissed that I ruined the customer’s nice pants and caused a scene.
He hauled me into his office and sat me in the hard plastic chair, in front of his fucking ridiculously huge hardwood desk strewn with paperwork that’s supposed to make him look busy.
I mean he’s a restaurant manager, not a CEO, Asshole. ”
I raise my brows pointedly at her, knowing she’s veering off track in the conversation to avoid getting to the part that’s getting to her the most.
“So, he just basically tore a strip off me. Which I suppose, I was half expecting. I know I shouldn’t have done it. I was expecting my knuckles to be rapped. Then he said I had two choices. He’d pay me what I was owed and I could walk, or …” She swallows hard.
“Or what?”
“Or he’d let me keep my job if …” she looks up at me through helpless eyes. Tears still clinging to her lashes. “If I slept with him.”
“He WHAT?” I yell. “Did he touch you?
Lottie doesn’t answer straight away, so I push further, “Lottie. Did he touch you? Tell me what that fucker did? I swear, I’ll take a rusty fucking knife to his balls …”
“He just …”
“He what, Lottie?” I say impatiently. I can feel my temper rising and the tone of my voice matches it. I’ve not ever seen my best friend like this and I don’t like it one bit. I want my strong, determined Lottie back.
“He cornered me. He tried to kiss me and when I refused he grabbed me.” Lottie starts to cry again and my blood boils at the situation she was in.
I know the feeling of not being able to escape.
I know it all too well, and I know that Lottie only experienced a fraction of it but it’s no less scary, and she should never have had to feel that kind of fear from a man.
“Where did he grab you? Did he touch you innapropriately?” I hear the frantic tone in my voice and realize it’s not helping Lottie calm down. So, I take a deep breath and take her hand to lead her into the bedroom. I sit us on the edge of the bed and turn my body toward her.
“Lottie? Babe, you need to get it all out and tell me what happened.” I say softly. “I know it hurts right now, but we will sort it out and make it better for you. I promise.” I wait patiently for her answer and hold her hand tightly.
She steadies her breathing and then starts to talk.
“I tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t having any of it.
When I tried to leave, he backed me into the corner and pinned me with his body.
He started to get all feely, then he was rough.
I didn’t know what to do, so I kneed him in the bollocks.
I’ve never done that before and after seeing you do it in the club, it was the first thing that came to me.
” She smiles a little half smile, and I smile back knowing I might have helped in some way.
“I guess he thought I would just open my legs and beg for my job back. He called me all sorts of names. Nothing I haven’t been called before, but he said them with such venom. No one has ever treated me that way before … like I was … he made me feel like a whore.”