Like Glass We Break (Glass #2) (5 page)

Chapter Six

“I haven’t talked to Sophie in a couple days,” Renae mentions, sounding concerned. She’s eating a smoked salmon bagel with cream cheese from a restaurant two blocks down. It had capers on it, but she has carefully picked them all off. She hates the taste of capers almost as much as she hates olives.

“She’s been really busy with work. I’ve barely seen her, but things are going good with us. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth,” Scott explains, between sips of his coffee. They’re sitting in the break room at Danis Accounting.

“I have nothing against you two dating. Seriously. I just don’t want either of you getting hurt, and I definitely don’t want to get stuck in the middle of anything.”

“I understand,” Scott responds, nodding.

Their boss saunters into the room, and carefully places a K-Cup in the Keurig machine.

“The conference in Philadelphia has finally been booked. You leave tomorrow, check into your hotels, and meetings start bright and early at six the next morning.”

“I’ve got my suitcase already packed,” Scott says, and takes another sip of his coffee.

The boss leaves and Scott and Renae remain silent for the remainder of their breaks.

***

Sophie

Scott packs himself a lunch for his day at the office. He chops chicken, mixes it with mayonnaise, a teaspoon of mustard, diced celery and red onions. He spreads it onto a whole-wheat sourdough roll and tops it with a piece of lettuce and tomato. “Thanks for helping me make my lunch, babe. I get to spend a whole three hours sitting beside Renae in a plane. We have that conference to go to and we’re leaving tonight. I hope you don’t miss me too much.” He chuckles. “I promise we’ll spend some time together when I get back. Maybe have a date night in, playing board games with a bottle of wine.”

Sophie writhes on the floor and tries to scream. Her scream sounds more like a muffled moan, barely audible. What is left of her tongue has begun to heal over and isn’t bleeding as profusely anymore. The dried blood on her face smells metallic and she feels sick to her stomach.

“Oh, you quiet little devil. I know what you’re thinking. You don’t want me to sleep with anyone else while I’m away. I promise I won’t. I’ll come back to you.”

Sophie turns to face the wall and begins sobbing quietly. The rope around her ankles is so tight that it feels as though it’s cutting off her circulation. Scott touches her cheek and turns her head back toward him.

“Open up,” he says in an almost soothing voice. He sticks his thumb into the corner of her mouth and pries it open, gently placing a piece of chicken between her teeth. She bites down, ever so softly, though her mouth is throbbing and burning. She knows that if she doesn’t eat, she’ll die. This might possibly be the last piece of food she’s able to eat until Scott is back from his trip. The flap of skin that had healed in Sophie’s mouth tears apart again and blood drips out of the side of her mouth. Thankfully, she cannot taste. The taste of blood had almost made her vomit. She feels dizzy and closes her eyes. Scott bends down and places a kiss on her forehead. Without another word, he grabs the handle of his suitcase and wheels it to the front door. Once he’s outside, Sophie doesn’t even attempt to make any noise. Her neighbors are far away. There is no way anyone will ever hear her. The only thing she can hope for is that someone will check up on her, but that’s a slim possibility because Scott’s been texting people with her phone, pretending that he’s her. Everyone probably assumes she is fine.

***

Renae

The flight is uneventful. Avoiding awkward conversation about the whole Sophie-and-Scott-situation, Renae engrosses herself in a book. Scott is fairly quiet the whole way, other than making short conversations about the weather and the beautiful steak he cooked the other night.

Renae glances down at his legs and her eyes follow it up to his crotch.
Look away, Renae.
He’s such a beautiful man. His lips are perfect, never chapped. His hands and arms look strong. He has wide-set eyes, high cheekbones, and a tapering chin. His prominent jaw line is perfectly chiseled, like that of a Greek god. He has grown in just the right amount of light stubble for facial hair. His skin is flawless, and his dimples glow when he smiles.

He turns to her and smiles, almost as though he’s right on cue. Renae feels a stir of wetness and turns her head. She studies the other passengers on the plane. In her peripheral vision, she can see that Scott is still staring at her.

The pilot finally announces that the plane is about to land and Renae breathes a sigh of relief.
Thank god.
She reaches to her side and buckles up her seat belt. The plane has a rough landing that leaves Renae feeling a bit nervous, and she’s glad when her feet are back on the ground. It doesn’t take long for their luggage to arrive on the baggage carousel.

They check into the hotel. Their rooms are at opposite sides of the building, though they are on the same floor.

“Will I see you later?” Scott asks.

“I don’t think so. I think I’m probably just going to order room service and relax. I really don’t feel like going out.”

“There’s a bar in the hotel. I was thinking we could grab a drink,” Scott suggests.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Scott’s phone rings and he takes a look at the call display, but decides not to answer it.

“Was that Sophie?” Renae asks.

“Yes,” Scott lies. On the other end of the line is a frustrated call center agent from a collections company calling about Scott’s overdue power bill. The electricity in his apartment has been cut off for a week and a half.

“Why aren’t you answering it?” Renae questions.

“I’m going to call her from my room. She probably just wants to say goodnight,” Scott explains. This doesn't sit well with Renae, so when she turns to unlock her hotel room door, she pulls out her phone and calls Sophie’s number. It rings seven times and then goes to voicemail. Renae is confused and is about to dial her number again when a text message comes in.

Sophie: In the shower. I’ll text u later.

Renae nods, and puts her phone back in her pocket. At least she knows there’s nothing bad going on; otherwise Sophie surely would have said something about it right away.

In his room, Scott runs his thumb over the screen of Sophie’s phone. He holds the power button down for three seconds, turning the phone off.
Sophie sure is popular.
In the few hours he’d been gone from her house, she had gotten at least ten text messages. A few of them were from Renae, but the others were from men that Scott did not know. This upset him greatly. He thought she would be faithful. He really wanted her to be
the one.
And now—well, now he was going to have to find someone else.

Sophie is at home, passed out from the pain and exhaustion she’s endured in the last four days. If someone does not find her soon, there’s a good chance she won’t be waking up again.

***

There’s a knock at the door. Renae is sitting on the bed in her hotel room, across from a large mirror that sits seemingly unsecured on the dresser. She debates whether or not she should just pretend she’s not in the room, but then she stands and looks out the peep hole on the door. It’s Scott. She should have known. She stands for a second, frozen—unsure whether or not she should open the door. Although Sophie had slept with several of Renae’s boyfriends growing up, they had always moved past it. Perhaps it was time for Sophie to see just how it felt.

Renae shakes her head. She can’t do that to her best friend. She leans toward not opening the door.
I’m not here, just go away.

“Room service.” Scott laughs. “I’m just kidding, Ren. Open up. I know you’re in there.”

No, he doesn’t. How could he possibly know I’m in here?

“I can see your shadow under the door,” he continues.

What? No. There’s no way.
Renae glances down at her feet and there is barely a crack under the door.

“Open it, Ren. I’m not going to bed for a while and it’s going to be a long, boring night. Let’s at least go downstairs for one drink. I’ll buy. I just really want some company.”

She looks out the peephole again.
That chiseled jaw, those perfect cheek bones. The dimples. Oh, the dimples.

Scott is grinning. “Come on, Ren. Don’t be a party pooper.”

Renae unlocks the door and opens it just a crack. Scott immediately pushes his hand in and throws the door back. The security chain is on and the door snaps to a halt.

“Whoa,” Renae whispers.

“Sorry, I’m just really excited. Get dressed, let’s go. Nice pajamas.” He grins through the four inch opening of the door.

“Okay, give me a couple minutes,” Renae finally agrees.

Scott backs away from the door, and Renae closes it, locking the deadbolt. She pulls her light blue t-shirt over her head, revealing a pink leopard print bra that snaps shut in the front. It has jewels on both of the cups that make it look expensive and delicate.

In the hallway, Scott leans back against the wall. He pulls Sophie’s cell phone out of his pocket again. Two more text messages from other men.
That filthy whore.
He sends a message to Renae’s phone.

Sophie: Scott and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.

Renae’s phone beeps and she takes a look at the message.
Perfect.
If she isn’t interested in him anymore, that indirectly gives Renae permission to go ahead and date him—or just play with him. She pulls her panties off from under the black pencil dress she’d put on and replaces them with a tiny pink lacy pair.

She grabs her black clutch and opens the door. Still leaning against the wall, he glances up at her, and then down to her body again.

“Wow, that was quick,” he says, impressed. “You look great.”

“Thanks. Looks like you clean up well too.” She grins.

It’s not like she’s never seen him in a shirt before. He wears a shirt every day to work. But this—this was different. He definitely put some thought into this. He styled his hair and wore his glasses. Renae wasn’t sure how he knew, or if he even knew—but she loves glasses on a man. They make him look sophisticated and intelligent; not that he wasn’t, normally, but he looked even more so now.

“Where are we going?” Renae asks.

“Where would you like to go?” Scott answers her question with another.

“Well, I really don’t want to walk far. It’s pretty chilly out.”

“I think I saw a restaurant just down the street that looked pretty interesting. Let’s go check it out,” Scott suggests.

The cold air nips at Renae’s bare legs. She briefly wonders to herself why she does this—why she dresses so uncomfortably to impress guys she’s interested in. When she sees Scott check her out from the corner of his eye, her question is answered. She craves his attention and his touch.

She stares at him when he looks back at her and their eyes meet. Scott smiles and puts his arm around her. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah, a bit. How much further is it?”

“It’s actually just right there,” he says, motioning toward a concrete staircase that leads to a basement door. Renae wonders if this is actually even a restaurant. It looks dark and uninviting, but there is a bright neon sign with the words
‘
Monkey Bar.’

“Monkey Bar?” Renae speaks the words skeptically.

“It sounds interesting!” Scott exclaims.

“Okay, sure,” Renae agrees sarcastically.

They open the door and walk in to a dimly lit, welcoming atmosphere. The entrance to the restaurant sets the stage for the dining experience. The music is loud, but not too loud. The place looks tropical. There are fake palm trees in every corner, wrapped in white strings of lights. The decor is all wood. There are patio lanterns hanging from the ceiling and bamboo plants on the bar. At the same time, the restaurant looks elegant and chic. The alcohol is placed carefully on dark cherry wood shelves that have lights in the back, making the bottles glow. The waiters and waitresses are all wearing black. They’re all beautiful, as though they were handpicked from a magazine.

The tables and chairs are all high. Renae is tiny and has to pull herself up onto the bench.

She flips open the menu. Everything looks delicious and the server is at the table immediately. She is stunning. Her long blonde hair flows past her waist. Her lips are large and luscious, painted with a pink bubble-gum gloss.

“What can I get you two?” she asks.

“I’ll have the Choco Monkey cocktail,” Renae says slowly, reviewing her decision in her head. It is a smoothie with banana, peanut butter, chocolate sauce and rum. It sounds delicious, but Renae knows that if she were to have a few too many of these, they would definitely make her sick.