Chapter 13
“ R ose?” I called, stepping into the foyer from the garage and slipping my shoes off. She was very particular about “outdoor germs” not contaminating the house. She didn’t answer, and I wondered if she had fallen asleep. She had texted me a few hours ago asking if I could come home when my show was done instead of going straight to the airport, and what Rose wanted, Rose got. I had booked myself a commercial flight and drove to our house up in Beverly Hills while the rest of my band flew to New York. I stopped in the kitchen and saw that she had left a box of those huge cookies everyone loved in the fridge.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I murmured to myself, picking one up and taking a large bite. Despite my arguably shitty eating habits, I was thin. Paired with my height, some would call me gangly, but I liked to call myself lean. It sounded nicer. At twenty-eight, I still hadn’t really grown into my body. I had the potential to have muscle, but that required eating well and working out. But since I always traveled with security who carried anything heavy for me, and the most strenuous thing I did all day was hold a microphone and strum a guitar, working out wasn’t exactly high on my priority list. I wiped the crumbs off my hands and bounded up the stairs to look for Rose. She would be so excited that I hadn’t flown out directly from the show.
“Babe?” I peered into our bedroom. It was dark, and the bed was still made with the twenty little pillows on it that she artfully arranged every single morning.
“Rose?” I called out again. Her Mercedes SUV was in the garage; I had passed it on my way in. So where was she? My spidey senses perked up, and I found myself tiptoeing down the hall to my office, which doubled as a recording studio. The door was slightly ajar, and I slowly pushed it open even more. What I saw made my stomach churn.
“Rose?” I whispered in a horrified squeak. Her hands were tied behind her back, a scarf was stuffed in her mouth, and she was on her knees next to my safe. A safe that a man with leather gloves and a ski mask on his face was trying to crack.
“I’ll tell you the code. Take it all; just leave her alone,” I shouted.
The second man, who was standing to my left, holding a gun, laughed. I felt chills rush up my spine. Rose shook her head at me, her voice muffled behind the scarf. I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I was helpless. My security was at the airport. I was weak and defenseless. No way could I take on one of these guys, forget two. I had no weapons, I couldn’t reach for my phone, and I couldn’t defend Rose. I felt my throat close up with fear. I tried to reason with them again.
“What do you want? I’ll give you anything you want. Just please leave,” I begged.
“Shut up,” the guy at the safe ordered. I heard a click, and the safe opened. He grabbed the cash, the bag holding a diamond necklace and my Patek Philippe watch.
“Take it… and go. We won’t stop you.” I walked further into the room, and the guy with the gun turned and smacked me across the face. I fell with a pained shout and held my hand to my jaw, which was already feeling like it was beginning to swell.
“Unfortunately for you, this is a classic case of wrong place, wrong time,” the guy who had just emptied my safe said to me from behind his mask. “You weren’t supposed to be here. She wasn’t either.”
“Pretend we’re not here,” I begged. Rose was crying, and tears were streaming down her face into that goddamn scarf.
“But you are, and the bad news is the bitch saw my face.” His words reverberated in my head.
“She won’t say anything, I swear.” I was babbling now. “I’ll give you more money.”
The two men exchanged a long look, and then the one holding the bag of my belongings shook his head. The man holding the gun pulled down the zipper on his pants.
“What are you doing?” I stood and rushed him in a feeble attempt to stop him, but the masked intruder just turned and smashed the butt of his gun into my head. I fell to the floor as my vision went black.
I woke up to the sound of Rose screaming. I felt foggy, my head was pounding, and when I pulled my hand away from my scalp, I saw blood covering it. I turned my head, and from where I was lying, I saw that he was raping Rose. I started to cry. I tried to sit up, but I was so dizzy and in so much pain all I could do was lie there and beg her to look at me.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay,” I garbled through my cries. The man with the gun finished, and then his partner took over.
“Stop it,” I pleaded. “Please stop hurting her. She didn’t do anything to you.” Blood was pouring down my face now, mixing with my tears and dripping off my chin. “Rose, Rose, look at me. I’m so sorry, baby. Rose.”
My ears were ringing, and my eyes were getting blurry. Stay awake, I commanded, stay awake. I was half a man, lying here in my own blood, unable to save the woman I loved. I had barely even tried. They hadn’t even bothered to tie me up because I was so pathetic. I turned my head, forcing myself to stay conscious. Rose’s eyes were full of tears, the horror clear in them, as her body was used, and I, who was supposed to be her man, her protector, couldn’t do anything to stop it.
“Get off of her!” I roared in a moment of fury, using all the strength I had left to yell. I stretched out my arm so I could touch the tips of my fingers to hers. They had taken the scarf out of her mouth, I realized. The reason why made me feel incredibly nauseous, and I had to hold myself back from throwing up.
“I love you,” she mouthed. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.” I was sobbing now. The blood was clouding my vision, and I had to keep wiping it away. I’m going to pass out was the last conscious thought I had until I woke up again to a dark, empty office, staring into the open, blank eyes of my fiancée. It’s not your fault. Robin Williams intoned in the background. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. I screamed.
“Kian! Kian!” A voice was frantically calling my name, and someone was shaking me. I was having a nightmare that I had already lived.
“You’re screaming!” the frenzied voice above me said. My eyes popped open, and I looked around. My boxers and the blankets around me were soaked with my sweat. Where was I? What was happening?
“Kian?”
“Jessa?” My voice was hoarse, and my throat hurt. The lamp next to the bed turned on, and I blinked in the sudden onslaught of light. Jessa peered down at me, worry and confusion evident in her eyes. I lifted my arm and saw the slopes of muscle in my bicep. I let out a sigh of relief. I am strong now. I could defend myself and those I cared about. I had literally turned myself into a fuck-around-and-find-out meme.
I sat up gingerly. What had just happened? I had never dreamt of that night. I hadn’t gone back there ever since it happened. Why now? Was it my sleeping with Jessa? Was it the movie? Was it my system getting overwhelmed by texting my bandmates? Recording the song? Listening to the voice note? I didn’t know, but all I did know was that it had to stay in the past. The worst night of my entire existence could not come back to haunt me. That night had caused me to leave everyone and everything I loved behind and hide. Hide and just languish in my anger, my grief, and my self-loathing. Jessa’s warm hand brushed over my face.
“Do you need a drink of water?” she asked.
I nodded. “Y-yes. Water is good.”
She got out of bed, and I heard her murmuring to Myles. God, how embarrassing was that? Even the guy who had barely been sober for two days wasn’t waking the rest of the place up with his screams. I ran a hand roughly over my face. Jessa came back in with a cup of water and watched me take a sip.
“Want to talk about it?” Her tone was gentle and inquisitive. I shook my head.
“Not now.” That wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either, and that was progress.
“Should I go?” I felt bad for waking her up and for doing it in a way that probably scared the living shit out of her too.
“Do you want to?” She got back into the bed and hugged her legs to her chest. I ran my hand through my hair as I finished my water.
“No,” I answered sheepishly. “But I don’t want to bother you if it happens again.”
She wordlessly patted the pillow next to her. I lay down and fell asleep with her hands rubbing my temples and her soft words in my ear.
I woke up a few hours later feeling rested and embarrassed over what had happened last night. Jessa was curled up next to me, her insane amount of hair spread out around her. Her long, dark lashes made shadows on her cheeks. She let out a breath, and it made a little whistling sound. I smiled and pushed some of the hair out of her eyes. She shifted but kept sleeping. I didn’t know when coffee girl had started to mean something to me, but I felt it thrumming in my veins. I would absolutely go feral on someone for her, and now, with my sculpted body, I could. I genuinely could. That knowledge gave me so much peace.
I leaned over to kiss her dimple and then lay back down, content to just listen to her breathe. Could I somehow have my life back and keep moments like this too? I had six weeks left till the last big fight, and then I had to reconnect with my band. I didn’t even know if she liked me enough to listen to my whole story when I was finally ready to tell it, and I only had less than two months left to find out.
I felt her shift, and I opened my eyes.
“Good morning,” I whispered.
“I need to go brush my teeth.” She slipped out from where she was lying on my arm and started to get out of bed.
“You’re beautiful.” The words just slipped out, and it didn’t hurt as much this time.
“Thank you.” She flashed me her dimple. “But I still have stinky breath. I’ll be right back.”
She was so confident, it amazed me. I was so used to women deflecting compliments or self-deprecating themselves. I didn’t think I had heard Jessa say one negative thing about herself yet. She was so different from Rose, and not in a comparison way like one was better than the other. More just an observation. Jessa was simple in her beauty. It shone from within, and it felt warm and inviting. Rose had come across as icy and standoffish because she was shy. She was delicate and small and never wanted anyone to see her without a full face of makeup. I couldn’t recall ever seeing Jessa in a full face of makeup yet. I felt guilty thinking of Rose in the same sentence as Jessa, and at the same time, I already knew what Jessa would be like when I told her about Rose. She would not be jealous at all. She would compliment Rose. She would point out all of her attributes and would ask questions to know more about her.
Rose would have been jealous of how easily Jessa loved. Of how confident she was. Of how genuine she was in her feelings and existence. The thought burned in my chest as Jessa came back into the room, pulling on her black bell-bottom jeans that I had come to recognize.
“Myles is at a meeting, then he has one-on-one therapy, and then he has group therapy, which apparently means he is going on a hike today, and he is kind of mad about that.” Jessa giggled. “For two people who live outside, we are definitely not always one with nature.”
“Lived,” I corrected. She placed a hand on her hip and stared at me.
“I love your confidence, but I don’t think this room is going to last forever.” She didn’t seem worried or anxious about it; she just stated it factually. I wanted to tell her I would keep her in the room for as long as she wanted, but I didn’t have the guts to possibly make her mad at me before my six weeks were up. I watched as she turned away to change her bra. I got a glimpse of some side boob, which immediately had me aching in my boxers.
I cleared my throat before asking, “Today is your day off, right?” She looked over at me as she pulled on a plain black T-shirt and then a huge black and white plaid button-down shirt over it.
“Yup.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I have no idea. I’d rather be working.” She sprayed something in her hair and began combing her curls.
“Let’s do something fun,” I urged.
“Fun costs money, music man.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“I’ll cover it.” I got up and stretched. I saw her eyes travel over my body. “My eyes are up here,” I teased.
“I know that. I’m not looking at your eyes,” she retorted back. I laughed so hard I ended up with tears in said eyes.
“Touché.” I ruffled her hair as I went to put yesterday's clothes on. “I have some things to do, but I’ll meet you back here in ninety minutes, and then we will have a fun day. On me. Okay?”
She shrugged.
“I’m not a huge fan of you paying for things,” she admitted.
“What else am I gonna do with it?” I asked her. “I have another fight soon. I will win, and I’ll make it all back. I promise.”
“Okay, on one condition.”
“I bring you to the fight?”
“You bring me to the fight.” Jessa nodded excitedly.
“Fiiine,” I acquiesced. “But you have to listen to every single thing I say in regards to you being at the fight.”
“Deal.” She gave me her hand, and we shook on it.
“I’ll be back soon,” I told her and left to go to the gym, where I planned to wreck my body and rid myself of last night's nightmare.
I worked myself to the bone for sixty minutes, then I cried in the shower for fifteen minutes and made it back to her room exactly ninety minutes later. She was eating licorice when she opened the door.
“That’s not breakfast. Let’s go eat some real food, then maybe a little spa day? Some shopping?” I inquired as we left the room. She looked at me like I had four heads.
“Who are you?” She laughed.
“Just throwing out girly things to do.” I defended myself. She gestured to herself as if to say, not your typical girl here .
“Okay, well, what constitutes a fun day for you?” I watched as she stuck another candy in her mouth and pulled her coat closed as we stepped out into the cold air.
“I thought about it while you were gone. I’m down for food. If by shopping you mean Goodwill, I’m okay with that too, and I would love to go to a rage room.”
She surprised me with that last one.
“A rage room?” I asked as we walked past the hotel.
“I overheard a customer talking about it, and it sounds fabulous.”
“What does one do in a rage room?” I was full of rage all the time; I just didn’t know they made rooms for it.
“It’s a room that you go into, and you put on protective gear. Then you choose angry music, and you beat the fuck out of a bunch of shit with crowbars and bats. Stuff like TVs, computer screens, mugs, plates, bottles, a stereo… you name it, they got it.”
“Are you serious?” I herded Jessa to the side of the sidewalk as someone sped by us on a bike. She nodded.
“Very serious. I looked it up, though, and it’s not cheap.”
“I don’t care. Let’s do it.” I was feeling spontaneous. Her eyes lit up.
“Yeah?”
I nodded and was rewarded with a smile. God, she was pretty.
At breakfast, I noticed another difference between Rose and Jessa. Jessa liked food. She wasn’t afraid of carbs and wasn’t embarrassed to eat in front of me. I had offered to take her to a place called Iron Gate Cafe, where they served eggs Benedict, but she insisted on going to a simple diner called Babe’s, where she proceeded to order French toast, a burrito, and hash browns.
Rose was always counting macros or carbs or calories. When we first started going out, she would order a tea and vegetable soup. She’d then take a few spoonfuls and would complain that her stomach hurt. Jessa, on the other hand, was having toast with her maple syrup and had a smattering of confectioners’ sugar on her nose. The difference was obvious. I didn’t know why my brain was doing this, and it was uncomfortable for me because it didn’t really matter. Rose was gone, and I was trying to heal. Yet here my mind was throwing up fun facts about how different this maybe, possibly, new girl was in comparison to my dead fiancée.
After breakfast, we walked from the diner to a Goodwill, where Jessa found me some new guitar picks, a vintage leather jacket that fit perfectly, a pair of baby-blue, high-waisted pants, and a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt. She obviously didn’t know that as an adult, I never went shopping for my own clothes, let alone in a Goodwill, and I was loving every minute of it. Of course, she didn’t want me to buy her anything, but I insisted that she look, and she finally gave in. She found Myles a green and maroon striped knit sweater, a pair of joggers, and brand-new brown Timberland boots. For herself, she agreed to get two more pairs of cargo pants, one that fit tighter to the leg and one that ballooned around her like a parachute. She also got a black knit sweater, a hat, and a lace black bodysuit that I chose and told her she had to wear to the fight. When she balked, I reminded her that she had agreed to listen to me when it came to the fight, to which she rolled her eyes but didn’t argue with me further.
Once we finished shopping, we walked back to the van and drove to the rage room. We entered with a tinkle of the bell above the door. The girl behind the counter had a ton of piercings and the word “Love” tattooed right under her left eye. We filled out our waivers and listened to her spiel about safety. Then she brought us back, where we put on protective goggles, chest protectors, a welding shield, and gloves.
“Damn, look at you, you sexy raging warrior,” I teased and was surprised as I said it. I had missed this. This non-grumpy, less closed-off side of me. Jessa gave a little twirl in her safety wear and then picked up a crowbar. The playlist we had chosen began to blare from the speakers, and I felt excitement boil up inside of me. I was going to blast this mother fucking room apart, and it was going to feel amazing.