Exposed to You (5 page)

“You have to live in
Brooklyn,” she said and scrunched her nose.

“So what? The commute
isn’t that bad.”

In all honesty, I was
less than thrilled to be living in Brooklyn, but I really didn’t have much of a
choice. Besides, as boring as commuting would be, it was much better than
reading textbook after textbook of boring law stuff. So really, I was the one
better off. At least that’s what I told myself.

“You’re so sweet,” Sam
said before carrying the box out of the room.

I shivered,
remembering the person that last said that to me. Maybe I had to work on being
a little less sweet.

I called the number
for a studio apartment and made an arrangement to see it after work. Then I
walked to the subway and went to the Cat and Fiddle Café.

Before we started
training, Michelle asked if I’d mind tidying up a bit. It was only her and
Jackson on shift that day, and Jackson had been swamped making drinks while
Michelle took the orders.

“Aren’t we pleased to
have you,” Jackson smiled warmly. His dreadlocks were secured in a ponytail.

It took two hours
until the lunch rush slowed enough for them to train me. Jackson showed me a
laminated book with pictures and steps for making the various drinks and
Michelle walked me through how to use the espresso machine. By the end of the
day, my apron was covered in coffee grinds and I smelled like espresso. I was
also heavily caffeinated from all the free coffee I could drink.

“So what made you
decide to take sketching and painting?” Jackson asked as we cleaned up together
for the night.

“I just love it.” I
pushed the mop around, moving chairs on top of tables as I cleaned. “I’ve
always loved drawing and want to find a way to make a living out of it. I’ve
thought about being a teacher. I don’t know… I don’t want to return to school
until I’m sure what I want to do. I thought I’d work for a few years until it
becomes clear.”

“I’m working on an
Accounting degree right now,” Jackson said, leaning a hip against the counter
and watching me.

“Really? I didn’t peg
you for the Accounting type.”

“Why? Because I’m
black
?
Or
gay
?” Jackson pretended to be insulted.

I knew he was joking,
but I reddened anyway, never comfortable with those types of jokes.

“No, because, um… your
hair.” I glanced pointedly at his dreads.

“Just because my job’s
boring as hell doesn’t mean I have to be.”

I laughed. “So why are
you doing it?”

“I’m good at it, I
guess. Also it will pay the bills. My plan is to work hard, play hard, and
retire early.”

I sighed. “Maybe I
should have done that.”

He shrugged. “It’s a
shitty tradeoff. I dread going to class every day. Is that any way to live a
life?”

After Jackson locked
up, we went our separate ways and I headed to Brooklyn. I met the landlord Bran
at the bottom of the building and he showed me to the room. And that’s all it
was: a room. A tiny studio that didn’t even have a kitchen, only a hot plate
and a microwave. But it was clean. It was also entirely empty and available for
me to move into immediately.

“I’ll take it,” I told
him.

***

That night, I finished
packing all my things into boxes and Sam and I celebrated our last night as
roommates together. We shared a bottle of red wine, both of us teary and
nostalgic. We’d been best friends since High School and had lived together all
throughout University. It was going to be a big change for both of us.

I showed Sam a picture
of my new apartment and she cried harder.

“You can’t live there!
It’s a hole.”

I snatched my phone
away. “It’s
my
hole. It’s my first apartment alone and I will decorate
it to look nice,
thank-you-very-much!”

Sam’s face fell. “Oh
Amy, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just worried about you and I feel
so bad. If I weren’t moving in with Luke, the rent my parents pay for me would
go to supporting half of a nice two bedroom. You could afford that.”

I waved her away. “I’m
not going to be anyone’s charity case, okay? I’m actually excited to have a
place of my own. I’m going to decorate the walls with my artwork. That will
make it a lot homier.”

“Are there a lot of
locks? I mean, is it… safe?” Sam asked, wiping away her tears. “I’m just
worried about you,” she added quickly.

“I know you are. And
yes, it’s safe. You can even come see it on the weekend if you and Luke would
help me move?”

“Of course! We’d love
to help. And we can use Luke’s car.”

Luke showed up a bit
later to start loading boxes. He was tall, broad and tanned with blonde hair
and blue eyes. A line of freckles dotted his nose, making him look cute despite
his size. We’d met him at a Students’ Union event our first year and he and Sam
had been dating ever since.

“Hey Ames,” he said,
putting an arm around me. “I heard you got a temporary job and a place.
Congrats!”

“Thanks,” I said,
squeezing him back. “I’m pretty excited to be doing my own thing, you know?”

“Yeah totally,” Luke
said before messing up my hair.

I helped them carry
boxes down to his parents’ SUV. After the last box, Sam said she would come
right back, but I told her not to worry about it.

“Enjoy the new place.
I have to be at work early tomorrow anyway.”

Tears pricked her eyes
and we hugged again.

“I’ll see you on
Saturday for the move,” she said before climbing in into the car.

Back in our student apartment,
I felt alone for the first time. Even the loss of Sam’s boxes made me feel sad
and sentimental. I closed the door to her room without looking inside, and then
went to my own room to crash.

My room was also
half-packed, but the bed was still together and I had sheets and clothes for
the next few days. I leaned up against the headboard of my bed and scrolled
through my phone, checking my Facebook and Email. I sat up bolt right when I
saw I had a message from the numbered email. Dallon King.

Dear Miss Clair,

I want to apologize for how our meeting went
down the other day. I understand your concerns and wish to assure you that I
will not be selling the pictures. They are safe with me. You are very beautiful
and I feel privileged to have been able to take your picture.

It was wonderful to have met you,

—D.

I stared at the email
for a few moments. He was trying to be nice and reassure me, or else make me
back down, but it wasn’t going to work. In fact, it just made me angrier. I
quickly wrote a response and sent it back.

Dear D, that does little to make me feel better
at this point. What kind of a person keeps pictures of a sensitive nature
against someone’s wishes? I will be reporting your ad so that other women can’t
get tricked by you in the future.

I
wish I had
never met
you
,

—A.

I hit send and lay
down on the bed, crossed my arms. There. I felt better. I wasn’t going to be
able to sue his rich ass, but I didn’t have to put up with his fake
pleasantries either.

I decided a bubble
bath was in order to help me get my mind off things. My candles were still
lining the tub, so I lit them while the bath filled and plugged my iPhone into
the player. Soon classical music filled the bathroom and I settled into the
warm water with my book.

An hour later, I wrapped
a towel around myself and pulled my phone out of the player. As I walked to my
room to change into pajamas, I noticed that King Douche had responded to my
email. Considering his lack of response to my first email, I was surprised.
Wasn’t my last one clear enough for him? I clicked on the email to open it.

Dear A, I have no desire to fill the position
with anyone but you, so don’t worry about future women. Your position is safe
with me.

I would be careful not to anger me, though.
This is what might happen if you do.

I scrolled down and
almost dropped my phone. At the bottom of the page was a picture, but not just
any picture.

It was the picture he took
right after he spanked me.

“That asshole!” I swore and threw my phone across the
bed.

How
dare
he?

I sunk down on the bed, feeling like I was no longer
stuck in a dream—I was stuck in a nightmare. A crazy man—a man I didn’t even
know—had just sent me a photo of myself after he’d spanked me. And he still
thought there was a chance I’d accept his freaky job proposal!

My hands were shaking with anger. I wanted to rip his
throat out. I’d never considered myself to be an angry person before, but Mr.
Fucking King was changing me. He was threatening to make me crazy, too.

Tears burned my eyes and spilled forth onto my cheeks. I
sat against the wall with my knees drawn up and stared at the phone like it was
a bomb. When my breathing had slowed, I crawled across the bed and picked up
the phone carefully, looked at the photo again and blanched. Luckily it was
taken from an angle where you couldn’t see between my legs—thong or not—but the
red mark from his hand was clearly visible. The plaid skirt was pushed up to my
waist and my back was bare except for the line of my black bra. I was facing
forward, so my face wasn’t visible, only blond hair falling over a white
shoulder.

As much as I didn’t
want to admit it, and as much as it disgusted me to think it, I did look kind
of hot in the photo. Slutty, but hot. I’d never seen myself from that angle
before. I did have a pretty nice figure, like past boyfriends had told me, and
my butt looked really good in that picture, even with the hand mark. In a way
it was kind of sexy…

Ugh! I quickly closed
the email, feeling incredibly guilty and embarrassed. What was wrong with me?

I changed into my
pajamas and turned off the lights, but I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I stared at
the ceiling, thinking about the photo and Dallon King’s piercing grey eyes.
Man, he was good looking. It was a shame he was such a nutty bastard. I mean,
who did that kind of thing? Maybe an ex-boyfriend, but not a successful
business man who didn’t really know someone. Was he in the habit of doing this
kind of thing?

To show him he hadn’t
gotten to me, I decided to write him one last email.

D, leave me alone or I’ll sue you for
harassment. Good lawyer or not, a court case like that could tarnish your
reputation. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve done as well as you have, being that
you’re a complete lunatic.

Then I turned my phone
off and fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of piercing blue eyes and camera
shoots.

***

The next day, I tried
to pour myself into work, making drinks as fast as possible and keeping the
café the tidiest it had ever been. Michelle was highly impressed, but I was
still thinking about King Douche. I wondered how he’d reacted when he’d
received my email, if it had scared him into leaving me alone or just given him
a good laugh. Somehow, I kind of suspected the latter. He acted like a man who
was used to getting what he wanted and wasn’t afraid of any repercussions for
his actions.

The worst thing about
it was that I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. He was one of the most
frustrating, arrogant, messed up people I knew, and for some reason, that
fascinated me.

What did that say
about me?

I checked my email a
few times throughout the day, but there was no response. It seemed that he had
taken my threat seriously. Good.

At the end of my
shift, I called Jeremy and asked if he wanted to get together for drinks. I
needed a distraction and pretending to have met with Jeremy made me realize
that I actually missed him. He said some of his co-workers from the law firm he
was working with for the summer had taken him to a bar and gave me directions
on how to get there. By the time I arrived, they were heading on to the next
place, but Jeremy said his goodbyes and stayed with me.

“So how are things
going there?” I asked.

“I’m glad to have a
break for the summer,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “The long hours haven’t
started yet and I’m tired of reading textbooks and studying for exams,
obviously. Glad this year will be my last. What about you? What are you up to?”

I hesitated before
responding. “I’m okay. I’m a bit worried I won’t find a job in my field and
that I have no real life direction other than drawing, but I’m working at a
café for now. Moving into my own place on Saturday.”

Jeremy smiled
reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. There’s no rush to sort out everything
now, right? Just take it easy.”

I smiled. It was nice
to be able to tell someone my fears without worrying about burdening them. I
loved Sam, but she could be like a worrying mom. Jeremy’s relaxed attitude was
exactly what I needed right now.