Flawed Beauty (5 page)

“I can see why you would have
nightmares, Tate. That’s a lot for a young girl to go through, especially at
that time of your life. What happens in your nightmares?” Dr. Randall asked.

Tate shifted agitatedly in her seat.
“It’s not one thing; it’s like a collage of all of those things. Sometimes Mr.
Smith is there, running the video camera. Sometimes it’s my father offering me
the orange soda. Sometimes I’m on a pool table and my angel is trying to pull
me up to save me, but my father and Nick are holding my feet tightly to the
surface of the table. It’s not what’s in the dreams, it’s the intense feelings
of fear and dread that frightens me. It makes me feel unsafe and insecure. It
makes me feel… helpless; like I’m thirteen all over again.”

“Tate, when we’re young, we start
out as blank slates, and over time we begin to build a foundation of who we are
and what we will become. When your foundation isn’t formed properly, by either
not feeling loved, by feelings of neglect, or by suffering abuse, it is natural
for you, as an individual, to feel ‘unsettled.’ Just like a house whose
foundation isn’t set properly, that foundation will eventually cause the house
to crumble. We need to find ways to fortify your foundation.”

“Okay, what do
you
suggest?”
Tate asked almost with a smirk as she’d heard this all before.

Dr. Randall leaned her head back
against her chair and contemplated Tate before answering. “Tate, I’d be willing
to bet there isn’t one person whom you trust, is there?”

Tate eyes blinked rapidly while she
thought, but then slowly shook her head.

“Do you know the purpose of a
foundation? It’s to help you stand, even when bad things happen.
Because, I hate to tell you this, but bad things will happen again.
Life is unpredictable and forever changing. So you can either learn to adapt to
those changes and live a full life connected to others, or you can stay as you
are: rigid and unbending – never giving people a chance to live in your world.
And while it might seem safer, it’s a lonely world when you push everyone away.
My grandmother had a saying:
Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater
.
People are multifaceted, containing both good and bad qualities. If you push
them all aside because of the bad things, you’ll never get an opportunity to
see the good. You need to open yourself up more. You need to experience the
wondrous things life has to offer. You need to let the past go – learn from it
surely; know there are truly horrible people out there. But there are some
really wonderful ones, also. I think your subconscious is trying to tell you
that you’re missing that connection to others. So, we can do one of two things,
or maybe both for a while. You can either force yourself to build trust with
others, or we can put you back on the medication you were on previously. Or as
I said, we can try a little of both. The decision is yours.”

“I don’t want to take any more
pills,” Tate muttered as she mulled over the doctor’s words.

“Okay, over the next couple weeks, I
want you look for the good things you see in people, then look for the bad
things. Place the two, side and side, and see which prevails – the good or the
bad. There are none of us perfect, Tate, not even you. Surely you know better
than anyone that everybody deserves a chance. Give them that chance. You’ll not
be disappointed, I promise.” Glancing at her watch, Dr. Randall said, “It looks
like our time is up. Can you come back in two weeks at the same time?”

Tate hesitated, but slowly nodded
her head.

“Good, good. I’ll expect a full
report. It’s been a privilege to meet you, Tate Morgan. I’ll see you two
weeks.”

Tate thought about the doctor’s
words as she lay on her bed, waiting for her shift to start. She thought back
at the people she’d trusted: her parents, her sisters, Alan and Beth – even
Nick. They’d all nearly destroyed her – some by their actions and some by their
inactions. She thought about Toby and Markus, her last foster parents. They’d
never hurt or disappointed her because she’d never given them the opportunity
in the year she’d lived with them. Could she actually open up enough to let
someone in? Sadly, she shook her head. It looked like she was going to have to
be happy leaving the bathroom light on.

§§§

She was with a table when
Jace
walked into the nightclub. She frowned as her heart
began to beat a little faster and her palms grew sweaty. He’d not called her as
he’d promised.
That was definitely going in the bad column,
she thought
.
He grinned at her and began making his way to her, but was waylaid by someone
in the band. With a small wave, he turned and followed his fellow band member
onto the dais, and that was the last she saw of him until the band began to
play.

As he had every night since
beginning with the band, towards the end of set,
Jace
sat on a barstool and sang a ballad. This time, it was actually a country song
he’d adapted to his own style, originally sung by Rascal
Flatts
,
What Hurts the Most
. Tate stopped in the middle of her service with her
tray held against her chest as it seared with pent-up emotion.
What hurts
the most is being so close – and having so much to say – and watching you walk
away – and never knowing what could have been – and not seeing that loving you
is what I was trying to do.
His smooth, easy voice seemed to vibrate
against the walls. This man could really, really hurt her –
if she let him
,
she thought.

When the first set ended, she stood
at the bar, waiting for Thor to complete her order, when she heard
Jace
behind her. “What does a guy have to do to get a
drink?” he teased.

She stiffened automatically and
thought,
Tread carefully.
She straightened the lime green Zeal’s T-shirt
worn for Saturday nights and forced a laugh. “I think you’ve already done it
with that voice of yours. Just sit back, my friend. I have a feeling the drinks
are about to come flying at you.”

“Like the one you sent flying at me?
I don’t think my head can take it.”

“Uh, no.
All your fans are salivating with
the need to obtain your attention,” she jested.

“I only care about your attention,”
he said, tugging on her curl ponytail.

Tate couldn’t stop the leap her
heart gave at his words. Here was this sexy, gorgeous man – a doctor no less –
and he said he wanted
her
attention… yet, he hadn’t called. She turned
her body and head slightly in order to look at him. When she did, she saw his
attention had been captured by a dark-haired beauty. She had one hand wrapped
around his bicep, while the other stroked his arm – her long, red-lacquered
fingernails looking like daggers. His head was bent and he was laughing as she
whispered something in his ear. Tate had no doubt as to the inappropriateness
of whatever the dark-haired woman was suggesting.

Tate shook her head at herself. She
knew better. This was why, if she were going to date, she’d not date a guy in
the band. Her jealous, insecure heart couldn’t take the constant barrage of
females turned on by a guy who could sing and/or play an instrument. Turning
back around, she saw Thor patiently watching her. She realized her drink order
was now on her tray. With a small smile of apology, she reached into her apron
for her bank and paid for the drinks. Taking a shot of Fireball, a
cinnamon-flavored whiskey, from her tray, she spun and tapped the good doctor
on his arm to gain his attention. When he looked up from his sultry beauty, she
handed him the drink.

“From your fans,” Tate murmured
before grabbing her tray and moving past him.

As she moved away, she heard him
call after her. “What? Wait. Tate, wait.” But she continued on her way. She was
at work and was too busy to get wrapped up in the comings and goings of Dr.
Jace
Staton
.

For the rest of the night, she again
carefully avoided
Jace
; which wasn’t hard, as he was
continuously surrounded by throngs of women. She’d gotten about halfway through
her shift when she noticed a new group enter the nightclub; among them was the
guy she’d nicknamed ‘Blondie’ from before. Plastering a fake smile on her lips,
she approached the table.

“Hi, welcome to Zeal’s. My name is
Tate and I’ll be your server this evening. What can I get you gentlemen from
the bar?” she said, parroting her usual greeting.

Blondie turned his head back to the
group. “See, guys, I wasn’t lying. Isn’t she the most beautiful girl you’ve
ever seen?”

Internally, Tate rolled her eyes at
the college boy’s words. She’d heard this all before. She’d learned a long time
ago not to have her head turned at the ramblings of drinking college boys. With
a strained smile, she thanked him for his compliment. She wasn’t stupid. She
worked for tips and this was all just part of it. After asking again for their
order, and checking their IDs, she hurried off to collect the two pitchers of
beer and plastic glasses.

Her shift crept slowly and by Last
Call, Tate’s head pounded with the strain of maintaining a close surveillance
of
Jace’s
whereabouts, while not drawing attention to
the fact that that was what she was doing. Blondie’s group was always a huge
cause for her headache. Blondie once again didn’t understand her subtle – and
sometimes less than subtle – hints to keep his hand off her butt. She’d served
the group numerous pitchers of beer, but had slowed her service down to them in
the familiar tactic of slow-walking their orders.

As she approached their table to
encourage them to leave, she grimaced.

“Okay, guys, time to go. Would you
like for me to call you a taxi?” she asked.

She purposefully stood on the
opposite side of the table from Blondie. He gave her a sloppy smile and shook
his head.

“Nope, we walked,” he slurred. “Hey,
I have a fantastic idea, why don’t you come with us to our place? With you, we
could really get this party started,” he said while tapping out a drum roll on
the table.

With a strained smile, she shook her
head. “I’m sorry, but my husband and child are expecting me right after work.
Thanks for the offer, though,” she lied. “We’re locking the doors in five minutes,
so please finish up.” She gave them another small smile and turned away from
their table.

As the tables cleared, she and the
other waitresses went behind them, clearing and wiping the tables down. She
worked quickly and gave a sigh of relief when Blondie and his group left the
bar. As she’d swept the floors the night before, she was free to go once the
chairs were all up. Without acknowledging anyone and giving them an opportunity
to stop her progress, she grabbed her keys and left out the front in order to
avoid those sitting at the bar – including the luscious Dr.
Staton
.
She wasn’t surprised to see him surrounded by Sabrina and Megan, two of her
fellow waitresses. She wondered why he’d lingered at the bar as he’d been
surrounded by panting females for most of the night. She’d assumed he’d have
taken the offer of one of those in his fan club – particularly his dark-haired
vixen with the red fingernails.

She rolled her shoulders to relieve
some of the stress that had accumulated there. Untying her apron as she walked,
she slipped it off and draped it over her arm, careful to ensure her bank and
tips stayed within its deep pocket. She’d just turned the corner of the bar,
when she noticed Blondie and his group standing about midway between her and
the wooden staircase. The
group of five guys were
all
similarly dressed in long-sleeved T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers – the standard
apparel of college students. She hesitated only briefly. She’d learned a long
time ago in her past to not show fear. Fear let others have control over you –
it let them
know
they had control over you.

Keeping her head held high and
wrapping her apron tightly around her hand, she continued forward, and giving a
small nod to the group, she went around them, giving them a wide berth. She’d
gotten one foot past them when she heard Blondie call out. “Hey, Tate, we were
hoping we could convince you to come with us. We’ve been waiting patiently for
you to get off work. What do you say?” he asked with forced casualness while
leaning against the wall of the bar.

“No thanks. My family
awaits
,” she said as she kept walking.

Without warning, she felt her arm
being caught in a vice grip, spun around, and then came face to face with
Blondie.

“Now, don’t be that way. I’m sure
your family is used to your late nights.”

Swallowing convulsively, Tate forced
the panic way down in order to keep control... she’d learned self-defense just
so this type of thing didn’t happen to her again.
Moving one
step closer to Blondie as if to whisper in his ear, she waited until he leaned
into her before jacking her knee into his groin.
She stepped back
quickly, but not quick enough to miss the downward movement of his head as he
bent swiftly at the waist to gasp in pain. The hard knock of his head against
her head caused her to fall hard on her backside. Before she could scramble up
or away, she felt hands grab both her arms. Her apron fell from her hands and
went sailing, sending her money flying up into the air and settling on the
ground before the wind caught the bills and sent them blowing away. With
panicked eyes, she watched her hard-earned tips and bank fly around on the
breeze.