43. Abigail – “Music replays the past memories, awaken our forgotten worlds and make our minds travel.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
43
Abigail
“Music replays the past memories, awaken our forgotten worlds and make our minds travel.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
“You don’t look so good, sugar.” I look up from where I was loading beer bottles from a case and give Gary a weak smile.
“Nothing a box of peanut butter cookies won’t fix,” I tell him. Or Colt walking in here right now, taking me in his arms in front of everyone and telling me he does want this. He does want the world to know about us. Telling me he loves me.
God, I’m so tired. And weary. I couldn’t stand to look at him after I left Blake's room, and I wanted nothing more than to be away from him and out of his life. I’m thinking of staying at my sister's tonight. I don’t even want to go back to his lake house. Maybe I can crash here. I know Sherry keeps a bed in the back for nights she’s too tired to go home.
I pull out my phone and open Instagram, glancing at the new comments. My anger and resolve are still there, but so is the sadness now. I miss him, but I hate myself more. I love and want him, but I can’t be around him. He makes me laugh, and I feel at peace when I’m with him, like I’m home. Like he’s the only thing in my life I understand. But I don’t understand myself anymore. Someone has to fight for me for a change.
“You clocked out before closing the tab before you left last time,” Greg says, pulling cash out of his wallet. “Here’s your tip.” He slides a couple of twenties across the bar, and I close the cooler and laugh under my breath. My eyes felt heavy with fatigue. “Greg, it didn’t even occur to me,” I tell him. “Don’t sweat it. I’m just happy you’re here,” which is the truth. He saves me from conversing with anyone else while I’m working. He doesn't flirt or make crude comments. And he likes the music I play on the jukebox. I leave the money and clear off his empty bottle, popping off the top of another and setting it in front of him.
“Hey, can I have two Buds,” someone calls, holding out money at the bar. I head over, hearing the phone ring and seeing Sherry grab it. Opening the cooler, I pull out the two bud lights.
“Abigail?”
I look over at her, setting the two beers down.
“Who’s calling?”
I keep my eyes on her as I take the guy's money and ring up his drinks. “Jared?” she says. She casts me a look, and I know all the blood must have drained out of my face, and I look as pale as a ghost. And I shake my head. How the hell did Jared find out I worked here?
I forgot he even existed. But I’m sure he is calling about the car. I know it’s not for me. Maybe he found out it’s all in my name now and wants to bitch me out for it. I blocked his number over a month ago, even before Colt and I started having sex. I’m sure he saw the video and put two and two together. I should take it down since I know that’s what Colt wants me to do, but I guess I’m not ready to let go of that moment, that feeling of people thinking Colt was mine.
“Yeah, she’s not here.” Sherry lies. “Sorry, you must have the wrong place or girl you’re looking for. I would try her cell phone.” She hangs up. Probably not waiting for him to say anything else.
Jared calling makes me think of Colt. He called my cell once today but didn’t leave any voice messages and hasn’t texted. Naturally, I reach for my phone in my pocket, checking it for the millionth time tonight.
Sherry approaches me.
“What is going on, honey?”
“Nothing. Just got a lot on my mind.” I slip my phone back into my jeans pocket. The video already had 11 Million views on my Instagram, with thousands of likes, shares, and comments. Some people thought we made a cute couple. Others thought Colt was smoking crack for being with me. Some thought I was a gold-digger. Some people put two and two together and discovered I was related to Naomi. Those were the comments that hurt the most.
He downgraded from Naomi.
What a homewrecker. We love C and N together. What are you thinking, Colt? Better Bolt!Before you end up with child support and an ugly baby.
She’s got a smoking hot body. I would fuck her.
She’s dam lucky! Live the dream girl before he wakes up!
The list of horrible, nasty comments goes on and on in my head, but the one that stood out the most was being called a demon child. I wasn’t sure why or where that came from, but it made no sense.
I looked up the username, and the profile looked fake, so I wasn’t sure if it was someone who created a profile to say these mean things or if it was a legit person. It was a picture of some guy with his dog in the profile. Gary was his name, and he called me a demon child and white trash in another comment right below the first one. Then said, the truth always comes out.
I didn’t think anything of it at first, but as the night went on, I couldn’t help but question it. All the other comments were about Colt and me, or how I looked, but this one was directed strictly at me only.
“You look exhausted” Sherry cocks her head at me. She gently pushes my hair behind my ear as I wipe down the bar. “Have you eaten anything today?”
“I’m fine,” I snap. “Just tired.”
I desperately want to talk to her, but I’m sick of being the pathetic girl who has to walk away from a guy who doesn’t want her because I’m not good enough. “It’s a slow night, hun. Why don’t you go home and come back tomorrow refreshed? I know that video must have set you off.”
“You saw too, huh?” Tears stung the back of my eyes.
“Honey, he’s the quarterback for the Cardinals. It’s hard not to see. He’s a good-looking guy, so even if he weren’t a famous athlete, that video would have gotten people to stop in their tracks. Not only that, it was adorable. You have my vote for Team A and C.” She smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks, Sherri. But it doesn’t appear as it seems. We were just messing around, and Colt wanted me to see-” I trailed off, remembering his words. “Me for me, how he saw me, to make me believe I am pretty.”
“Like hell, it’s not. I think the whole world can see the chemistry between you two. Why do you think so many people are commenting? Open your eyes and see it for yourself, Abigail.”
Sheri knew about me and Colt somewhat, but I didn’t tell her the extent of how close we’ve gotten over the summer.
“You are good enough, Abigail. And fuck that bitch Naomi. From the sound of it, I don’t even like her. We got enough of that straight hair-blonde-Jessica Simpson- want-to-be around here anyway.”
Sherri was trying to cheer me up, but that didn’t make me laugh.
“You stick out, honey. You shine and need to stop letting people dim the light on you. That luster doesn’t look pretty on a girl like you.’
“I just don’t know what to do, Sherri. If you heard Colt earlier, it’s like he was mad that people saw us together.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons, and I'm sure being a single dad, dealing with the pressures of the media and all this crap. It’s not easy on him. But the only way you’ll find out what’s going on in that head of his is by talking to him.”
“That’s the thing, he doesn’t want to talk. Not about us right now. And he’s not the most talkative guy. It’s like he has to be in the right mood.”
“Oh, one of those, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Just wait then. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Maybe he’ll come around.”
“And if he doesn’t?” My stomach drops, waiting for her response. Sheri wasn’t cruel, but she never held back when it came to the truth.
“Then your heart will heal, and it will be even more ready for the next one. Stronger even. That’s the beauty of getting your heart broken. So the next time you fall in love, the guy will have to work harder to pierce through that big heart of yours.” She points to my chest, letting the reality of how she may be right sink in. I was holding on, but maybe the best thing to do was to let go. Maybe the Killian brothers and I were just never meant to be.
“Go home and get some rest,” Sherri says. “That’s an order. I may not be your mom, but I can spot heartbreak when I see it. You need to get some sleep.”
I nod.
“Go grab some food out of the kitchen before you go. I want you to eat something.”
I do as told before clocking out and returning to the lake house. A Michael Jackson song starts playing on a station I’m tuned to. But I turn it off, not in my usual mood, to have the escape I typically crave when my spirits are lifted by music.
It took me a good twenty, aimlessly minutes of driving around town, lost in my head before I committed to going back to Colt’s lakehouse. Even though I didn’t want to see Colt, all my clothes, books, and school stuff were in the apartment, so I needed to get my things before making rash decisions.
I didn’t open the door to the front this time. I went straight to the back. I knew Colt was probably already in bed. But since we’ve been sleeping in his room together, returning to the apartment, alone, felt weird. Since he hadn’t called or texted me all night, I figured he wanted to be left alone, which was totally unlike him. But I wasn’t sure if it was the video Bodie posted or what his dad told him. Maybe even his mom said I wasn’t good enough for an NFL star. I wanted to find time to ask him what was going on with him.
Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I snuck into the main lake house to see what was happening. And to see if Colt has finished cleaning up Blake's room. I quietly opened the backdoor to the kitchen. I could see the TV playing through the window, but it was turned down low, so I assumed no one was watching it. When I walked up to the couch, I heard Cliff snoring before reaching him. I laughed to myself as I slowly walked upstairs. Colt’s room was closed, but Blake’s wasn’t. So I peeked inside. The room was as I left it. I cleaned up most of the papers but left the journal with the CD attached to it. Since no one was around, something told me to take it, so I did. I needed to find out what was on that CD. For all I knew, it could be a finished record.
Once I grabbed what I needed, I padded to Bodie’s room and peeked my head in. He never knew it, but I’ve kissed his cheek every night. I read to him at least three times this week when I didn’t get home late, and enjoyed every second of our time together. It’s become our routine. I brushed a strand of golden brown hair off his face. The moonlight shined on him, revealing his smooth, boyish skin. He was so innocent, and I felt like he was mine the more we got to know each other. And his love for music reminded me so much of Blake. A small part of me wanted to keep him forever, but I knew that was just a selfish fantasy I had to keep to myself.
I took a deep breath before slowly backing away .
This was going to hurt like hell once this summer-pretend-happy family came to an end.
I opened the back door and walked back to the apartment. A chill ran through me the instant I smelled grassy smoke mixed with a musky scent.
“If I knew you were into tricking, we could have made some money, girl. You get more use out of sex than drugs.” Jared says. “Didn’t know you could pull some NFL ass, but then again, you always tried hard in bed, which always made you a good little lay. Better than all those good-looking hoes that sat back and just liked to get fucked.”
“What are you doing here?” I say, ignoring his comments. The only thing I heard loud and clear was the pounding of my heart.
“I need our car back—my car. Do you think you would get away with that shit? Now that you fucked an NFL player?”
The street lamps make his facial features glimmer as he takes a step closer, and even though it’s dark, I can tell he’s on something. His eyes are bloodshot.
“I paid the car off with a job. You know, something you’re not familiar with.” Survival mode has kicked in. My brain is in control now.
“Right, like I’m supposed to believe that.” he taunts, and his whole presence feels closer and his voice more evident.
“You know, since you’re paying your rent money opening up your legs, I can think of a way you can make it up to me. Right now. Right…here.”
“What makes you think I would want to fake another orgasm with you?”
His lip curls into a snarl, and his hands clench at his sides. I know he wants to lunge forward and make me pay for the remark I made. He stands before me in his jeans and a t-shirt, and I pray silently for him to leave. But his expression grows cold as he glares at me through dark brows.
“The lies you must have told yourself that convinced you that you made me cum all ten times we had sex. I would lay there after, confused, then amused at the fact that nothing about you wasn’t pathetic.”
His top lip twitches, and right now, he’s determining how likely he is to get away with what he wants to do to me since he knows he easily can. It’s dark, and all our neighbors are asleep.
“Now I feel sorry for any girl that suffers the same experience. Because no matter how much they fake their orgasm, it still doesn’t make you a man.”
He lurches forward.
I straightened and pretended to grab something in my back jeans pocket.
“Get out of here,” I tell him, calm and even. “And I never want to see you, or speak to you ever again. I thought I made that message clear when I broke up with you in a text.”
He hesitates a moment. His chest caves with heavy breaths, and I can hear the anger fuming inside him. He wants to rush me so severely. But I’m not even scared. I feel nothing.
I know I won’t l get far if I decide to scream.
“Leave, Now,” I say, sounding as confident as I can muster.
“Or what? Is someone going to come save you, Abigail?” He looks around, holding out his arms wide this time.
“Because unless your fancy football fuck is hiding in the bushes, I don’t see anyone around.” He starts to walk forward, and I step back, trying to figure out if I can make it to the apartment in time to close the door and lock it. That will give me time to call the police.
“I was going to play nice, but after that comment, I think I’ll take my chances.” A snide grin spreads across his face before he lunges for me. I scream and turn around so fast that I almost think I’m free until I feel a hand grab my arm and shove me to the ground. I flip over and try to break free from his grip. But he’s bigger than me, and for being intoxicated, he’s got one hell of a grip.
“Get off of me.”
He takes his other hand and grabs my shoulder, picking me up slightly to jerk me back down on the ground.
“You fucking bitch.” He says as my head hits the ground. I try to reach for my head, but I can’t, and he’s banging me against the concrete floor again. A sharp slap hits my face. And memories of the first time he came close to hitting me come flooding back.
“Stop!” I scream. I try to make out what I’m seeing, but my vision is starting to blur.
“You think you can talk to me that way and get away with it. You are nothing but a dumb bitch that relies solely on her body to get a man. We all know that’s all you got.”
His words stung. Not because they are true but because he knows my deepest insecurities and is using them to hurt me.
“So why don’t you use the only thing you can to save you right now.”
I hear him unbuckle his pants, and my brain registers what’s happening.
“No!” I scream. “Get off of me.”
He slaps me again.
“Shut up and take this dick, you owe me. Now spread those pretty legs.”
I feel him move over me and start to pull my pants down. I move my hands to stop him, but he pushes them away.
“I know how much you love dick you cunt.” I can smell the alcohol on his breath as he whispers in my ear.
Please God. Stop him. Please. I think in my head. I repeat the words repeatedly until a new voice rings in my ear.
“Hey!” I hear a man’s voice again. Before I know it, Jared is off of me.
“C’mon man, let me go.” I hear him say as I rub my pounding head. “I’m not greedy.”
I hear a punch with the cracking of bones.
“Jesus Christ, man. I’m an actual fan. What the fuck was that for. She’s just some bitch spreading her legs for r-” Before Jared can finish his sentence, Colt grabs him by the collar and whips him around. My vision is back to normal now, and I gasp at the sight of them. My heart stops as I see him throw him to the ground—and Colt charges after him. Jared shoves Colt away, but Colt grabs his arm, throwing his fist back and throwing it down like a hammer, pounding Jared in the face, not once, not twice, but three times.
“What the hell is all this ruckus about?” I hear Cliff say as he opens the back door. Cliff’s eyes go wide as he takes in what is happening. Colt lifts Jared back to his feet and drags him to his car.
“Don’t worry, we can share the little whore,” Jared says as blood trickles off his lip. Cliff rushes over to me and kneels by my side. “Are you okay?” he says as he lends me a hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he pulls me up, helping me to my feet.
“Get the fuck off my property before I call the cops,” Colt says, almost loud enough to wake the neighbors. Jared spits near Colt’s shoes before a bloody smile spreads across his face.
“You haven’t gotten away with this. I'm sure I’ll see you in that strip club next to the bar soon. You’ll be spreading your legs for all the guys to make that rent money, and I’ll come in and buy your ass. That’s a p- ” Colt punches Jared again, shutting him up. And Jared growls. Bringing one of his hands to his lips, inspecting it.
“You knocked out one of my teeth. I’m a fucking model. I don’t care who you are. I’ll press charges against you asshole. How’s that for publicity.”
“Yeah, go ahead and try. I’d love to see how that goes.” Colt seethes.
“Fuck you, man, she’s not even worth it.”
“Get out of here!” Colt waves his hand, and Jared takes no time to get inside it.
I’m not shocked Colt did some damage. They both are tall, but Colt has at least thirty extra pounds of muscle on him. Sweat glistened across Colt’s brow as everything around us disappeared. Cliff looks at me and Colt, and I’m sure he feels tension.
Once Jared is no longer in sight, Cliff says, “Is everything alright? Who the hell was that?.”
Colt doesn’t say anything. I blink, and Colt drops his gaze. The spell is broken.
“Alrighty then. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
Colt stares at me for a moment, looking me over, and I’m guessing he’s checking to see if I’m hurt. I’m not bleeding, and since Jared slapped me, I’m sure the only sign of brokenness is a red cheek, which is hard to see in the dark, but so is my shattered heart that bleeds out with each passing second he stands before me, unmoving.
“You okay?”
I swallow. My throat is dry, and the only thing I can do is nod. He shakes his head a couple of times before looking to the ground and then back up at me before he turns around and starts walking back to the lake house.