Beautiful PRICK (8 page)
Authors: Sophia Kenzie
I can’t sleep. I’m tossing and turning. I feel like he’s
watching me. He, them, those guys. I want to scream. I want to run. I want this
feeling to go away. I want to feel normal again.
I hate that I can’t. I always thought I was stronger than
this. I never let other people have this affect on me. Why now? Why these
people? Why am I, all of a sudden, weak?
Because they took away my power. And, I can’t seem to find
it again.
It’s been two weeks, and I don’t think I’ve slept more than
an hour at a time since that night. I go to work, and I do what Johnny asks of
me. I even bought a can of hot chocolate mix with a measuring spoon so that his
nighttime protein shakes have just a little less than a packet of mix in them.
“See, I told you that you’d figure it out.” He winks at me.
I don’t argue. I don’t sass him. I just nod and go on with
my assigned tasks.
I work, I eat… sometimes, and then I go home, constantly
checking around me to see if I’m being followed.
It’s silly. It’s ridiculous. I was barely even hurt. My
bruises have disappeared and I’m left with nothing more than a few healing
scratches. So why can’t I shake this? Why can’t I just get over it?
Why can’t I go back to being me?
Thanks to Netflix, and my inability to sleep, I’ve watched
the entire first three seasons of
Criminal Minds.
Unfortunately, that
show doesn’t really make you feel better about the world… or your own safety. I
actually think it might be contributing to the nightmares. But, otherwise I’d
be just staring off into space. That’s probably worse… probably.
Melissa keeps stopping by to check on me. It’s nice of her,
but the way she looks at me just makes me feel as though I’m a shelter dog that
no one wants to adopt.
Why’d I make that simile? Now I’m sad.
Anyway, I begged her to stop coming by,
told her I needed more time. I needed to be alone. After
about a dozen times, she finally respected my wishes, but now I wish I made no
such request. I miss her. I’m lonely and I’m scared.
And, it sucks.
I start to pace my floor, praying that this weight on my
chest will just finally lift and I can move on with my life. I want
to be the person I was: the person who read the
Times,
the person who ate cereal any time of the day,
the person who chose
breakfast over showering. Now, I choose neither. That, or I spend three hours
not washing myself, but just letting the stream of water hit me.
I think I’m hoping it’ll wash me away.
I grab my keys. I don’t know why. It’s after midnight. I
shouldn’t be leaving my house. I’m actually too scared to leave my house, and
yet the fear is not as strong as the emptiness, and I finally decide that I can’t
let myself be this person anymore. I won’t let it take over me. I won’t let it
become me.
My car starts and it feels… good. I’m doing something.
I turn on my high beams and pull out of my parking spot. I
switch on my Pandora station, trying to remember a time when I sang along to
the music. I drive the streets I have come to know so well, even in my
perpetual fog. It’s a little chilly tonight, but I keep my window open just a
crack. It makes me feel alive.
Honestly, it makes me feel
something
.
I slowly drive by the little alley where it happened, secretly
hoping that the group would be there, and I could run them over. I’d blame it
on driving while tired, or texting. I’m pretty sure if I squeeze out some fake
tears, I could get away with it.
And if not, it would be a great plot for a television pilot!
But they’re not there. My fantasy remains a fantasy for
another day.
The vibration of my phone on my lap startles me, and I look
down to see a picture of Nick on the screen. It’s after three. Why is he
calling me?
“Hello?” I put the phone on speaker.
“Oh, so
now
you answer.” He sputters.
“Nick. Are you drunk?” I don’t have the mental capacity for
this right now.
“Drunk on
love.
” He gives the word ‘love’ two too
many syllables.
“Listen, it’s late. I’m going to go.”
“No. No. You stay right there.”
I pull into a parking spot on the street.
“What do you want, Nick?”
“Why didn’t you ever call me?” He whimpers right into the
receiver.
“Well, you broke up with me on my answering machine. That
might have something to do with it.” I snap at him.
“It wasn’t real.” He sounds like a sad, whiney child.
“Go to bed, Nick. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“You’re going to call me?” He keeps up his whiney voice.
“I’ll call you.” I am barely paying attention.
“I love you.”
I don’t say it back. I can’t. He’s not on my mind. My sights
are set on something much greater.
“Bye Nick.”
I hang up. I take a deep breath. I check my mirrors to make
sure no one is lurking outside of my car.
Then I step onto the sidewalk. I walk to the door. I ring
the buzzer.
“Hello?” His voice crackles on the other end. I feel a jolt
of electricity spring through my body as I prepare to respond.
“It’s Caroline. Can I come up?”
The door buzzes open.
I take the stairs. He’s only on the fifth floor, and for
some reason, I have energy that I desperately need to exert. I feel empowered,
enlightened.
For the first time in two weeks, I finally am coming back to
myself.
The door is open when I reach the top of the stairs, and
Johnny is standing in the doorway.
He’s wearing a tight white tee shirt that clings to his cut
muscles, and a pair of light gray sweatpants with a drawstring hanging out of
the front. His hair is shaggy and in his face, and his eyes are half closed, as
if I woke him up.
But his look is of concern.
“Is everything okay? What happened?” He steps toward me.
I’m quickly alarmed, as this Johnny is not the one I see
everyday in the studio lot. This Johnny is not the one who yesterday threw his
daily script pages at me because I highlighted them in yellow and not green. This
is the Johnny that carefully rubbed ointment on my ribs and asked his sister to
drive my car out to my apartment. This is the Johnny that made me wonder if
there was something to Julia’s comment about me being “special”.
But that’s not the Johnny I need right now.
“Are you okay?” He asks again, obviously worried that I have
yet to respond.
“I’m fine.”
“Then… then what are you doing here?”
I see a quick glimmer in his eye, as a knowing thought comes
across his face. He’s a man, and a good-looking one at that, and there are only
a handful of reasons a girl would show up at his apartment in the middle of the
night.
“I’m not here to have sex with you, Johnny.”
His face drops. It’s kind of cute.
“Then…”
I cut him off as I confidently step into his apartment.
“You’re going to teach me how to fight.”
I smile the first real smile in maybe my entire life.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Now? You want me to teach you how to fight now?” He wipes
the sleep from his eyes.
“Not right now, no.” I half laugh at his worried look. “I
just mean…”
I stop myself and look around at the darkened apartment. It’s
the middle of the night. What did I think was going to happen? Did I want to
start now? Did I think he would just have boxing equipment sitting next to the
door, ready to be used at a moment’s notice? Or did I really just come over
here to ask him to train me sometime in the near future, and now I’m going to
go home? Am I really going to go back out there alone and walk to my car? Am I
ready for that? In this darkness?
I feel the weight come back to my chest. My breathing
becomes labored. The room starts to spin.
That jolt of adrenaline that got me here without the
slightest ounce of fear has dispelled, and all that is left is the person that
had spent two weeks curled up in bed, jumping at every odd crack or creak. I
feel my knees try to give way, and I grab onto Johnny’s arm for stability.
“Caroline? What’s happening?” Johnny places his hands on my
shoulders, helping to steady me.
“I just… I wanted to…” I look at him, helplessly. I can’t
pretend I’m okay; I’m not. Not yet, at least. “Can I stay here tonight?”
He pulls me to his chest and hugs me. He’s never hugged me
before, and I didn’t ask for a hug. But wow, it’s exactly what I need.
How did he know?
After a few seconds, I wrap my arms around his ribs and let
my weight collapse into him. It feels good to be held, especially when that
holding has intention. I close my eyes and let it happen. I allow myself to
feel comforted.
He buries his nose into my hair and sighs. I can’t help the
smile that spreads across my face, even if I do try for a split second to hold
it back. But I don’t try very hard, because for someone so God-awfully
annoying, he’s good at this kind of stuff.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He whispers when he finally lets
go.
“You don’t have to…”
But he doesn’t let me finish, and I’m so happy for it. I
want to sleep in a bed.
Hell, I just want to sleep.
We say goodnight and he flips the light off as I curl up
under the covers. I close my eyes, and allow my exhaustion to finally take
over.
And take over, it does.
Until I feel him shake me awake.
“Wake up. Caroline, wake up.”
“What? What?” I spring up, fearing a catastrophe has
happened. “Is it an earthquake?”
“An earthquake?” He stops shaking me, and laughs.
“Yeah, California has earthquakes. Don’t laugh. It’s bound
to happen sometime.”
“California does have earthquakes.” He agrees with me.
“Then why are you laughing?” Now I’m getting defensive. Why
won’t he stop laughing?
“Because California isn’t currently having an earthquake.”
“Then why’d you wake me up?” I purse out my lips to show him
I’m not happy about it.
“You must have been having a nightmare, you were screaming.”
He pushes my hair from my face, suddenly changing.
“I didn’t realize.” My eyes refuse to focus, as I’m still
half asleep, but it makes sense. I don’t remember the nightmare, but I can feel
it. Maybe that’s why I thought it was an earthquake. I can feel the ache in my
bones. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He caringly smiles. “I just wanted to make sure
you were okay.”
“I am.” I nod, but I think I’m lying.
“Good.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me, and I’m okay with
that. For some reason, I don’t want to hide from him. “Then I’ll…” his gaze at
me softens. “I’ll get back to the couch.
I let him reach the door before I stop him. “Wait.”
“Yes?” He quickly spins back around.
“Stay.”
“Here?”
“Please?”
He’s already in bed and under the blankets before he says,
“of course.”
That certainly didn’t take much convincing.
He keeps his distance, which I really appreciate, and yet,
honestly, am slightly disappointed by. But just knowing he’s there makes me
feel safe.
I feel a little guilty after hanging up on Nick earlier that
I’m now laying in the same bed as Johnny. It’s not like anything is happening
or will happen, and yet I still feel guilty. Or maybe it’s that I feel guilty
that I don’t really feel guilty.
Emotions: what the heck?
I begin to drift back off to sleep, but before I do, I reach
my hand out to the center of the bed. I don’t really know why, or what I’m
hoping for, but when I feel his fingers wrap around mine, it all makes sense. He
must have been hoping for the same thing. I close my eyes and fall asleep.
The next time I open my eyes, the sun is shining through the
lightly draped windows, and I can feel its warmth on my face. I haven’t moved,
I’m still curled up on the same side of the bed, but Johnny is no longer on his
side. He’s wrapped around me,
his arm slung over
mine, and his leg wrapped around my hip.
But I don’t say anything. I just lay there with a smile on
my face.
Johnny Braylock, my childhood crush, is snuggling with me.
Life can be pretty funny sometimes.
Johnny’s been on set for seven hours so far today with only
a few quick water and snack breaks, and in that time, neither of us have
mentioned how we woke up wrapped around each other.
I can tell we’re both hoping that if we don’t speak about
it, maybe we’ll both forget.
Not because it was awkward, but because it wasn’t. Actually,
when I rolled over this morning and looked up, I could have sworn he was
staring at me.
And I stared back.
I hear the director yell “cut”, and Johnny steps off the
set.
“Hey.” He jogs over to me.
“Hey back. You have your lunch break in twenty minutes. They’re
giving you two hours.”
“Perfect.” He chugs his water bottle before the make up
artist comes over to retouch his bumps and bruises and scratches and scars.
“What would you like to eat?” I grab a notepad and pencil
from my back pocket.
“Hmmm.” He sucks his teeth. “You know what, make us those
kale and pineapple smoothies.”
I begin to jot it down, but stop. “Us?” I look up at him.
“Yeah, you’re going to have one too. I’m teaching you how to
fight today, remember?”
Although I do remember, I feel like I’m being a burden. “It’s
a long day. We can do it another time.”
“Oh no, no, no.” He chuckles as he takes another swig of
water and turns so the make up artist can touch up the bruises on his
shoulders. “Tomorrow will turn into the next day and the next day will turn
into the next day. I know how these things work, Caroline. We start today.”
Then
he takes his shirt off. Really?
That’s how he’s going to put his foot down? I mean, there’s a reason for taking
his shirt off: they want to give him a clean one to start the scene over again.
But still, it’s no fair that he can make an argument and then end it that way. If
I tried that… well, it wouldn’t be on a movie set, I’ll tell you that.
I’m sure it wouldn’t have the impact that he just had.
Damn him and his muscles.
I walk off set in a daze, knowing I have to make smoothies,
and put on something to wear that I can work out in, and something else.
Something else… something else…
You know when you know there’s something you have to do,
it’s on the tip of your tongue, and yet, you absolutely cannot think of what it
is? And then you think it might not be that important because you can’t think
of it, but then you wonder what will happen if it actually is important and you
don’t do it. That wouldn’t be good. So instead, I try to walk around in a
circle and pinpoint the last place I was when I reminded myself that I had to
do that one thing. And then I rack my brain, trying to find a trigger, and I
look at my phone to see if maybe I put it on my to-do list, which I definitely
should have done, but the likelihood that I did…
I have to call Nick.
See, pacing led to my phone and my phone reminded me that I
had to call Nick.
“Hey you. Hung over?”
I hear him groan on the other end of the line.
“Do you want me to call again later?”
“No. Now is good. How are you?”
I haven’t talked to the boy in over two weeks.
How are
you?
That’s not a question I can really answer right now.
“I’m fine, Nick. How are you?”
“I miss you, Caroline.”
What am I supposed to say to that? Because the truth of the
matter is that I don’t miss him. Not once in the last two weeks did I wish he
were there. I wished someone were there, yes, but not him.
I wished to be held, yes, but not by him. I wished
for someone to talk to, to cry to, but never once was he the one on my mind.
And I’m not saying someone else was on my mind. Actually, no
one was on my mind. My mind was blank.
I never felt more truly alone.
“Did you hear me, Caroline? I said I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Nick.”
I don’t condone lying, but I just don’t know what else to
say.
“What happened to you? You disappeared.”
So
I tell him. I tell him
everything, even that Johnny was trying to get me to spend the night and I
locked myself in the closet. I tell him about trying to walk home because I was
too drunk to drive, and I couldn’t find a cab. I told him about the group of
guys and not being able to defend myself.
I told him about Johnny finding me and taking care of me and
getting my car, and my license, and my credit cards, and lending me cash…
And Nick said nothing.
“Hello?” I’m not sure if I lost him.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Well, they took my phone, Nick.” I blew air out from
between my lips. “And by the time I finally got another one, you had already
left me those very comforting messages.”
It was pure sarcasm, and I made sure he knew it. He hurt me.
I didn’t feel bad for keeping him out of the loop.
“You need to come home.” His tone is dead serious.
“Excuse me?” I hope he’s kidding.
“I’m serious, Caroline. You’ve been playing this game long
enough. It’s time to come home.”
“Game? What
game,
Nick?”
“Your writing thing. It’s obviously not working.”
“I’ve only been here for four months.” I can’t control my
anger.
“And what have you accomplished? I got a promotion. You got
mugged by a bunch of gang bangers.” He clears his throat: his way of telling me
that he’s made his point.
I much more enjoy Johnny’s way of ending the conversation,
come to think of it.
“Why are you laughing?” He interrupts my little fantasy.
Shoot, I guess I was laughing at the thought of Johnny
making his point by pulling off his shirt. I didn’t realize I was laughing out
loud. Whoops.
“Nick, I have to go.” I don’t even answer him, because
shirtless Johnny is now standing in front of me.
“Who is it?” Johnny winks as he whispers.
I raise my eyebrows at him to let him know I don’t think
he’s funny.
“Nick… Nick…” And he’s yelling at me. “I’m hanging up.”
Johnny pries my phone from my fingers and raises the
receiver to his lips.
“Caroline is mine for the next two hours. Sorry bud.”
And then he hangs up.
“Johnny, what the heck?” I know I’m going to get an earful
about that exchange later.
“What?” He shrugs and winks again. “It’s true.”
“You can’t just wink and think everything is cool. You just
told my boyfriend that I was yours and then you hung up on him.”
“I said for two hours. He can have you back after that.”
“Not the point, Johnny.”
“What are you wearing?” He changes the subject as he steps
back from me.
I give up. I’ll deal with it later.
“A tee shirt.” I throw my arms in the air. “Is something
wrong with a tee shirt?”
“You’re wearing a baggy tee shirt and baggy sweatpants.” He
corrects me.
“Yes, comfortable work out clothing.” I press my lips
together, hoping I don’t scream at him.
“But I need to see your body.”
“Oh my God!” I explode. “You know what? If you can’t take
this seriously, I’ll find another teacher. I think I’ve made it quite clear that
I have no interest in sleeping with you. Can you get that through your thick
skull, or should I just walk away right now?”
I think I’ve made my point. He doesn’t give me one of his
quick responses, just looks to the ground and takes a deep breath.
“Caroline, I need to see your body and how it moves so I can
make sure you’re doing the things I teach you correctly. That way, you won’t
hurt yourself in the future.” He takes another deep breath and coyly smiles. “Is
that okay with you, Miss Carver, or do you need to walk away right now?”
Okay, now I’m officially embarrassed.
“I don’t have anything else.” I mumble.
He tilts his head while he looks at me. “First thing’s
first: are you blind?”
“What? No!” I defend, not really knowing what I’m defending
against.
“Good. Give me your glasses.” He holds out his hand.
Oh, he meant to ask me if I was literally blind, as in: can
I see without my glasses on.
“I can’t keep them on?” I twist my face, not wanting to give
up my glasses.
“Not unless you want them to break.” He shakes his head at
me as if I asked something really stupid.
I guess I kind of did.
“Fine.” I pull my glasses from my face and look away as I
hold them out to him.
“Hey. Look at me.” He softly coos.
I quickly bat my eyes as they focus, but do as I’m told. “What?”
He takes a single step into me, but doesn’t come any closer
than that. “You’re really pretty, Caroline.”
Why is it that every time he has me convinced that he’s the
most self-centered, egotistical jerk on the planet, he then goes and says or
does something so absolutely genuinely good-hearted? That really confuses the
crap out of me.
“Thank you.”
“Now for the second thing.” He gives me his quintessential
Johnny wink. Awesome. What could he possibly have in store for me now?
Johnny grabs his backpack and pulls out a small plastic bag.
“What is this?” I question as I catch his throw.
“I figured you might need it, so I had one of the P.A.’s run
out and buy an outfit for you.” He smiles.
“You know, dude,” I jokingly refute, “I’m your P.A. That
should have been my job.”
“Eh, I didn’t trust that you’d buy the right thing.” He
winks.
“There you go winking again. I can buy my own clothes, thank
you.”
Without another word, I steal away to the other side of the
trailer, behind a small curtain I put up so that Johnny wouldn’t have an excuse
to continually drop his pants in front of me. I quickly strip off my tee shirt
and sweatpants and reach inside the little plastic bag.
“Uh, Johnny?”
“I’m right here.”
“I think your P.A. gopher forgot half of the outfit.” I
grumble, hoping I’m right.
“Let me see.” He tries to peel back the curtain, but I stop
him.
“No!”
“Caroline, I’ve seen you in just a bra, remember?”
He tries to make it sound innocent, but I know better.
“You did this on purpose.”
“I told you: I need to see your body. Now I can.”
He overpowers me and the curtain is ripped from my fingers.
“Yes I can definitely see your body now.”
I try to cover up, but it’s a moot point. I’m wearing
nothing more than a black sports bra and some sort of underwear that is
disguising itself as shorts. I’m pretty sure I actually have underwear that
covers more than these.
“I’m going to say it again: you did this on purpose.” I
shake my head as I drop my hands to my sides.
He rapidly blinks, but doesn’t take his eyes off of me. I
can see the corners of his lips rise in a devilish sort of smile.
I’m not going to lie: I don’t hate it.
He’s still staring at me, and not talking, so after I feel
that he’s gotten enough of a show, I speak up.
“Fine. I’ll wear this. But I’m wearing my tee shirt and
sweatpants to walk over to the gym.”
“Or…” Johnny wets his lips. “We could have your first
session in here.”
“Jonathan Michael Braylock, did I not make myself clear?” I
even stomp my foot to bring his attention back to my eyes.
“Michael?” His entire demeanor changes. “How’d you know my
middle name?”
Freaking IMDB. Why did I ever have to Internet stalk him?
“I made it up.” I quickly ramble. “Was that right? Michael? Wow.
What are the chances?”
“You didn’t make it up.”
So I completely brush it under the rug. “Ready to go?” I
awkwardly laugh as I pull my sweatpants up over my hips and slip my arms
through my tee shirt.
He makes some silly jokes as we walk across the lot, mostly
about how much I must have been in love with him as a child to know what his
middle name was.
I make a mental note that I should never let it slip out
that I also know he can tap dance. But wow, I would really like to see that
sometime.
After I disrobe and Johnny wraps my wrists, we climb into the
ring. He says he just wants to get a sense of my strength and knowledge of
defending myself, to which I reply that he has his work cut out for him.
“Remember what I looked like when I woke up in your
apartment that morning?”
He obviously remembers, but brushes it off. “This is good
though. It means I don’t have to break any bad habits.”
Oh, you can definitely break some of my bad habits.
Oh my God, why did I just think that? Why did that thought
flash through my mind?
That’s not good.
“Caroline?”
“Yeah? What? I didn’t say anything.” I quickly defend.
“Are you ready?” He smiles.
I nod and take a breath.
“Punch me.”
