Chapter Five #2
I laughed. The sound came out harder than I meant it to. “The woman you fell for, huh? Is that what I was? Because the way you told it, I was needy and boring and not going anywhere. Which is it, Brett? Am I the love of your life or am I dead weight you couldn’t wait to cut loose?”
His jaw tightened. The flush started at his collar, creeping up his neck. “I was trying to be honest. That’s what you always said you wanted. Honesty.”
“Honesty would have been telling me you had someone else lined up. Honesty would have been moving out before my birthday instead of after. This wasn’t honesty. This was you being a coward and a dick.”
The flush deepened. His voice stayed level and reasonable, but his words held bite. “You want to talk about cowardice? Hiding behind some biker trash at a bar? Letting him put his hands all over you where everyone could see? That’s not strength, Junie. That’s embarrassing.”
“I didn’t hide behind him, Brett. I climbed into his lap and kissed him because I wanted to. There’s a difference.”
Something cold moved behind his eyes. The reasonable cadence didn’t change, but the temperature rose substantially.
“Do you have any idea what kind of people you’re mixed up with?
Motorcycle clubs are criminal organizations, Junie.
They run drugs, guns, prostitution. That guy you spent the night with --”
“I didn’t spend the night with him.”
“Don’t lie to me. Where’d you stay, Junie? His place? Some clubhouse full of meth heads and felons? Jesus Christ, use your brain for once!”
The apartment felt too small. The walls pressed in. That stupid cologne seemed to fill up the breathable air and made my stomach turn. “Get out, Brett. Take your boxes and get out of my apartment.”
“Not until you answer me. Where did you go? What did you do?”
“Brett, what I do or who I do it with is none of your business. You ended it. Remember? I just took you seriously.” I pointed at the door. “The boxes. Take them and go.”
He didn’t move. The flush had reached his temples now, two bright spots of color against his pale skin.
His voice stayed quiet. Dangerously quiet.
“I’m trying to help you, Junie. These people…
they’re not like us. They’re predators. They see a young woman alone and they move in.
That’s what they do. That’s their business.
” He took another step. I backed into the counter.
“I care about you. Despite everything, I still care. So tell me where you were.”
“I was safe.” The words came out steadier than I felt. “I was with someone who asked what I wanted and then listened to the answers. Something you never managed in two and a half years, Brett.”
His hand shot out and closed around my upper arm. His fingers dug in hard, right above the elbow, twisting the skin against the muscle. The pain was sharp and immediate. I gasped, surprised at the sudden violence in his touch, which was a very new development.
Brett got right up in my face. His breath smelled like mint gum and coffee. “You have no idea what you’re doing. None. When this blows up in your face -- and it will -- don’t come crying to me.”
He held on for several seconds, staring me down. Then he let go and stepped back, smoothing his blazer and adjusting his tie. “The boxes.” He picked up the first one, hefted it against his chest. “I’ll send someone for the rest.”
“Anything you want to keep, you take now. Anything still here when you leave is going in the dump.”
He took the second box. Stacked it on the first. His arms were full now, the muscles in his forearms standing out under the weight. He managed the door somehow and pulled it open. “You changed the locks, I assume?”
“Yesterday. I had to put together enough money for someone to do it because I’m not exactly the best handyman.”
He nodded, then left, the door swinging shut behind him. I threw the deadbolt. The sound echoed in the empty apartment. My arm throbbed and I pushed up my sleeve and looked. Four finger marks stood out on my pale skin, a faint reddish bruise already darkening into a deeper red.
The boxes were gone, leaving only a couple of garbage bags which I’d set in the hallway for the building manager.
She loved to yard sale and at the next one she had, she’d have some expensive but useless items even Brett had no idea what to do with, apparently.
Whatever happened between me and Brett next would be something else entirely.
I was late opening the shop, but it didn’t really feel safe to leave before daylight. Fortunately, my regulars weren’t too upset.
As the afternoon light slanted through the front windows and turned the display case to gold, I finished cleaning the workstations and prepped for the next day, putting ready-made cakes in the fridge for frosting later. I wiped down the last of the counters with a rag before removing my apron.