10. Renne
Renne
L’Octane is a chic restaurant located near downtown in the affluent part of the city on the other side from where I live. The valet greets Pete as if he knows him, then fits Pete’s sports car right in a parking space near the entrance.
Since Pete’s friend, who is a girl, owns the restaurant, the dark, masculine interior decorated in severe modern gray, marble, and cold blue walls surprises me. It smells like lavender, not food, in here. The waitresses wear little black dresses like mine. I guess I fit right in.
While we wait for our table to clear out, we’re offered cocktails at the bar.
I order a glass of red wine. Usually, I’m a beer drinker, but holding a bottle of beer or even ordering one feels wrong somehow. I fidget with my hair.
A petite blonde wearing a sharp black suit joins us.
“There she is,” Pete says.
They air kiss, and she giggles as if he’s saying something hilarious. I can’t help but notice the way her lips have been overfilled several injections ago. It’s because she smiles, but her lips can’t stretch naturally anymore.
Nevertheless, I return her smile.
“Who do we have here?” she asks.
I stick out my hand and introduce myself.
Lizzie shakes my hand and proceeds to ignore me for the next few minutes. Just as well. The wine is excellent, and I’m enjoying the spicy aftertaste.
The pair of doctors chat about surgeries. She’s a physician who runs this restaurant at night. She and Pete seem very friendly. She’s not wearing a ring, and she keeps touching him as she speaks, once in a while glancing at me as if she wants me to notice.
I do notice, but if she thinks I’ll correct her or get possessive and make a scene, she’ll be disappointed. I might not be a lady like her, but I don’t stir up shit in public. I have manners. And also, the free wine can buy my happiness. I order another one.
By the time our table is ready, Pete has ignored me for over half an hour, I’ve had three glasses of wine, and I’m not hungry anymore.
We’re finally seated. Pete texts someone. The waiter flares out the napkin, and I smile up at him, having no clue that I should lean back so he can cover my lap with it until he tells me to do so.
The booth we’re seated in could hold five people, and soon, more people join us.
Now our date has turned into a gathering of local doctors.
I don’t know them from the hospital where I work.
They’re plastic surgeons, and one is an anesthesiologist. They make many jokes about nurses and tell me it’s nothing personal.
It’s like I’m in a dream. Waiters walk by. An array of plates are set on and removed from the table. More drinks. I’m pretty tipsy at this point.
Pete comforts me by sliding his hand between my thighs. “You ready to head out to my place?”
Wine gives me wings. Or balls. I don’t know. Either way, Pete’s about to get an earful of my opinion. I close my legs, but he slides his hand back between them. I move away from him, but he grips my thigh and pulls me back.
“Where are you going?”
“You’re crazy if you think I’ll sleep with you tonight.”
Pete tightens his hold.
“Let me go.”
“Go where? It’s not like you have anything better lined up. You live in the gutters. At least take a shower at my place.”
I look around the table. His friends might not hear everything we’re saying over the music and the chatter from the bar area, but they’ve overheard enough. Even if they haven’t heard a word, I heard him.
“Well, Pete, that’s not entirely true. You forgot that I could have eight and a half inches of pierced Crossbow dick inside me. I think I’ll shower in the manor.”
Pete’s grip on my thigh is relentless. I grab his wrist and try to move it. Under the table, nobody sees what he’s doing. I fucking knew it. I sensed his violence when he tugged my hair, but I ignored it. This is what Dina warned me about.
“We’ll leave together in a minute,” he growls.
“I’m leaving now.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I have to use the bathroom.”
The table grows silent. Lizzie appears uncomfortable and slides out, then disappears. Real hero, that one. But somehow it works, because Pete lets go of me.
Albeit with a warning. “Come right back. I want you to try their dessert.”
In the bathroom, I empty my bladder, then remain sitting on the toilet on the verge of crying again.
Making an enemy out of Pete would jeopardize my job. He has strong ties to the Selnoan healthcare industry, and besides being one of the best surgeons in the city, he’s friends with my supervisor.
Can I sleep with a man because I need him to let me keep my job? The job that feeds my baby. Selnoa General is the only hospital in the city. They own all the clinics in the area, so if I lost my job there, I wouldn’t be able to get another one in the clinics.
Witness protection works best in this city. It has something to do with the Crossbows being the enemy of the guy I’m hiding from. He’ll never come here, is what my contact said. Unless I leave the country, I have to figure out how to fit in here.
I hold my head in my hands. Why is adulting so hard?
If I don’t sleep with Pete, I’ll lose my job. And if I do, I’ll lose myself.
Pete trapped me when he set his sights on me. He doesn’t get rejected often, and he knew it was just a matter of time until I caved in. It wouldn’t have mattered if the date was great or average or even a complete disaster. Pete didn’t have to impress me at all. He knows I’m trapped.
I feel small. Helpless. Powerless. I’ll fight for my job tomorrow, but tonight, I want to go home.
There’s usually a back door in a restaurant kitchen. I know because my parents used to own a small deli. The exits are required by law in case of a fire. I walk through the kitchen as if I belong there, which I do, seeing as how I’m wearing a black dress like some of the staff.
It’s chilly outside. I cross my arms over my chest and walk to the bus station, checking the time as I go.
It’s nighttime, and I’m alone, but at least I’m in a nice part of town.
Even though criminals run the city, you can find children kicking a soccer ball in the park late into the night with nobody bothering them.
Bus 74 comes first. That’s not the bus that takes me home, but it does stop near the bottom of the mountain where the manor road starts.
On a whim, I take bus 74 and get off at the bottom of the mountain.
It’s a few-mile hike, but it’s not too terrible.
Besides, it’s only a matter of time before the Crossbow surveillance system picks up on a woman in a dress climbing the street to get to their house.
Barefoot, because one can’t hike with heels on.
Five minutes into my walk, an SUV with tinted windows blocks the path. The window rolls down, and a dark-haired man in a tactical uniform asks, “Are you lost?”
“No, sir. I’m making my way to the Crossbow mansion. Dina is my friend. My name is Ekatia.”
The man speaks on a walkie-talkie in a language I don’t understand.
Once done, he hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Get in.”