Silent No More (2 page)

“What’s it going to be, pretty lady?” His smile is
warm and sincere. It matches his chocolate eyes and dark hair that is peppered
with a bit of grey.  

“Vodka tonic and NO questions, Sam,” I say,
emphasizing “No” as I remove the small round diamond ring from my ring finger.
I should have taken it off earlier. I twirl it around my fingers while I’m waiting
on Sam to bring my drink over.

Cripple dick.

Surprisingly, I’m more hurt by my best friend than
I am the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. What does that
say about our relationship?

Sam returns and I place the ring on the counter to
take the drink from his hand. He eyes me with concern when he watches me lay
the ring on the counter, but doesn’t say anything about it. He turns, walking
to the other end of the bar to serve two men in business attire who have just
sat down.

I’m not one of Sam’s regulars, per se, but we are
on a first name basis with each other, and he always recognizes me when I
stroll in. I pop in occasionally after work on Friday evenings. I like to have a
glass of wine to relax before going home to get ready for a night out with my
friends. Friday nights generally consist of Katelyn, Stacy, Ben, Kyle and
myself. Luke and Ally always have to work. Plus, Stace has never gotten along
with Luke so I try to keep them apart as often as possible.

I look at Sam at the other end of the bar as I
take my first sip. The liquid doesn’t flow smoothly down my throat. It’s a bit
tart, and normally I’d want to make a disgusted gag face and stick my tongue
out, but I force it down anyway before taking a larger gulp. The larger the
sips I swallow, the faster I’ll be done. The faster I’ll be done, the faster
I’ll forget today ever happened.

I know Sam is probably wondering why I’m here on a
Wednesday night, but I’m grateful he doesn’t question me. I’m in no mood for
conversation. I just want to forget what I saw and vodka is the way to do that.
I lift the lime wedge from the rim of my glass to suck the juices out before
tossing it into the liquid.

Just as I’m swallowing a small sip from my fourth
glass of vodka tonic, my phone starts to buzz on the counter. I’m now wondering
why I bothered pulling it out of my purse as I grab it, eyeing the display
screen. I roll my eyes, and then when I swipe the answer button across the
glass screen of my phone, I speak in the harshest voice I can muster, “Go! To!
Fucking! Hell!” I punctuate each word to get my point across, then press end,
tossing it into my purse. Why doesn’t he just give it up already? He’s the one
that fucked up, not me. He and I are finished! There is no talking your way out
of that shit. There is no apology that can undo it. Our relationship is over!

I hope his dick falls off! Yeah, that’s a bit
harsh, but who gives a shit?? Not me. 

Fuck him!

And fuck her too!

I nearly jump in my seat when I hear the sound of
a man’s voice. It’s a deep strong, modulated voice, the type of voice that
penetrates your ears and demands attention. “He must have fucked up pretty bad
to make a beautiful woman sit in a bar, drinking all by herself.” 

Although the voice is pleasant to my ears, I just
want to be left alone tonight. Getting hit on really is the last thing I need
right now. I look in the direction of his voice to glare at him. He’s sitting
around the corner to my right, only about five feet away from where I’m seated.
My eyes automatically soften when they meet the bright blue flames. Talk about
intense. They look like the blue embers of a roaring fire reflecting back at
me.

Damn!

I need to say that again.
Damn
!

Those might be the most perfect set of eyes I’ve
ever seen, and definitely the most intense. I lean back a little, feeling like
I’ve been knocked back against a wall. Air momentarily leaves my body. How have
I not noticed this man before now? It may be dark inside the bar, but those
eyes stand out; they’re virtually glowing at me from a few feet away. When the
oxygen returns, I silently ask myself, am I that caught up in myself? Yeah, I
am. At least, tonight I am.

The way he’s staring at me is
unnerving…unraveling. It’s as though he looking inside my head and really
seeing me, seeing the “me” I don’t allow people to see. The last thing I want
is for anyone to see that deep inside. Of course, maybe it’s just the alcohol
and I’m only imaging the way he’s gazing at me.

As I take in the rest of his face, I notice his
hair is dark brown or it could be black. It’s too dark in the bar to tell. It's
messy on top as though he’s run his fingers through it a few times. He has a
square jaw with a little stubble on his face that makes him slightly rugged,
but sexy as sin. A mouth that looks like it could devour anything it touches.
Allowing my eyes to dip, I see he’s wearing a dark-colored
suit jacket with a white shirt, no tie. The jacket is open with the first two
buttons at the top of the shirt undone. There is no hair that I can see poking
out, so he probably has a smooth chest. His shoulders are broad…large. He’s not
a small man by any means.

This guy is smoking hot and oddly…familiar, but I
know I’ve never met him before. I would remember a man like this.

I begin to feel a little off balance and not
because of the alcohol I’ve consumed. My body heats up and I feel a flush
creeping across my face. Whatever thought washed through my mind is gone now. I
can’t remember what I was going to say, so I turn back to my drink, taking an
even larger sip, not liking this feeling in the pit of my stomach one bit.

I don’t know why I’m even drinking a vodka tonic.
I hate this drink. Tonic, yuck. But I can’t lie to myself; I know exactly why
I’m drinking this. Vodka will get me where I plan on being the quickest. I have
a goal, and I intend to get there. 

He addresses me again as I’m draining the liquid
in my glass down my throat. “You really should slow down. That’s your fourth,
and I don’t want to see that beautiful face of yours hit the floor.” 

He sounds like he is genuinely concerned. I don’t
give a shit how concerned he is. I am none of his business, and how much I
drink is certainly none of his concern. Who the fuck is he to tell me to slow
down? I’m starting to get pissed off. It’s been a long fucking day, and an even
longer time since anyone has told me what to do. I’m not about to let someone
do it again.

Ever!

I look in his direction, giving him my best “fuck
off” expression. “I don’t believe I asked nor need your permission to do as I
damn well please, so why don’t you mind your own God damn business, and stay
the hell out of mine?” I say this in a calm and controlled tone, hoping that it
will shut the fucker up.

It doesn’t.

His eyes darken and smolder. I wish he wouldn’t
look at me the way he does. It makes me squirm in my seat. The look in his eyes
screams authority and control. I’ve seen that look once before, but not exactly
like his. He doesn’t scare me at all.

“Careful, sweetheart, you may pay for that remark
later,” he says as he takes a sip of his drink. His eyebrow is arched and I can
see the corner of his lips turn slightly upward behind his glass.

“Are you threatening me?” I ask, with I’m sure shock
written all over my face.

“No, just a warning,” he laughs out. His eyes
soften, but still remain intense. His smile widens as though he’s thinking
about something, but he never breaks eye contact with me. 

So, he’s an arrogant fuck! That smile probably
gets a lot of women to drop their panties. Sorry, buddy, but I’m not that kind
of girl.

I roll my eyes and pick up my drink, knocking the
rest back in one gulp. I wave to Sam, ordering my fifth. Sam looks hesitant,
but fixes me another anyway. Blue eyes and I don’t say another word to each
other, but I notice he orders a gin and tonic with lemon right after Sam brings
me a fresh glass.

I reach for my phone inside my purse to check the
time. I clear out the ten missed calls not even bothering to look at the text
messages. I’ll deal with all of them tomorrow. Finally looking at the time, I
see it’s almost 9:30 pm. At least I’m getting drunk early. I’ll still be able
to get enough sleep before work in the morning.

I’m mid-way through my sixth drink; my head is
fuzzy and clouded. Maybe I should have taken the man’s advice and slowed down a
little. If anything, his remark made me continue down my path.

Asshole.

I know it’s time to go, and God, I really hope I
can make it to my room. I wave Sam over, asking for my check while reaching
into my purse for my credit card. I place the card on the counter then store my
phone in an inside pouch.

As Sam approaches a few seconds later, I push the
stool back standing up. Everything starts to spin.

Shit!

Double shit!

I’m dizzy and this is bad. I needed a distraction,
but I think I may have pushed myself too far. Why the hell did I do this to
myself? I’m
so
going to pay for this
tomorrow morning.

“God damn it, Shannon!” I faintly hear to my right
as I lose my balance. I try to grip the bar, but it slips from my grasp as I
start to fall backwards. 

Who said my name? I’m surprised my brain can even
form a question as it’s barely registering that I’m falling to the ground. It
wasn’t Sam. I’m sure of that, and I never told Mr. Hotness my name, so it
couldn’t have been him either.

I don’t land on the floor like I think I’m going
to. Instead, I’m being lifted into warm strong arms. My eyes are closed and too
heavy to open, but I smell him. It’s like a powerful and unique natural male
scent. There is no hint of cologne on him. I’ve never been attracted to the way
a man smells, but by God, this fresh, sweet scent is maddening. I’m too far gone
to object his hold on me when I hear Sam’s voice. It’s low and behind me. He
mentions something about my room, but I don’t hear everything. I feel warm and
safe.

This is
everything I wanted to feel since I left my apartment earlier today. 

I wake feeling warm, comfortable and well rested.
Slowly, I sit up in my bed, but quickly realize this is not the bed in my
apartment. Everything from the day before comes rushing back to me. Images of
Luke and Ally in my living room flood my mind. I remember coming to
The Cove
last night, but I’ve stayed
here a few nights in the past so I know this bed is plusher and has nicer
linen. This isn’t the bed in my room, unless I was upgraded and don’t remember.
I’m a little worried. 

As I look around the large room, for the first
time in my life, I don’t know where I am. Light through the white sheer
curtains filters into the room, but no one besides me is in the bed…or this
room. I pull the covers off and scoot to the edge of the mattress. My eyes
widen as I look down. Panic flutters and threatens to rise in my chest.

“What the fuck have I done?” I question out loud,
as I take in the sight of myself. I’m wearing my white panties and matching bra,
along with a huge white t-shirt that I know is much too big to belong to me.
Plus, I didn’t bring any of my clothes, so where the hell did it come from?

Oh. My.
God. No. No. Nooooo
! I’m
screaming in my head.

I spot the clothes I was wearing yesterday sitting
on a chair in the corner neatly folded. My cream pumps are lying next to the
chair on the floor. I can’t help but sigh in relief.

Getting out of bed, I quickly change into my white
button-up shirt, grey pencil skirt and pumps. I leave the tee shirt on the
chair where my clothes had been.

I walk to the door, putting my ear against the
wood, listening for any sounds in the next room. All is quiet. I take a second
trying to recall last night, but the last thing I remember is my conversation
with the jerk at the bar. I remember nothing else. I say a silent prayer to God
not to let me open this door and see him…then again, maybe I do. What’s worse? The
guy I remember from last night or another man I do not? 

Fuck! 

I can’t believe I let this happen. This is so not
me; I swear.

I ease the door open and walk out. Sitting at a
desk next to one of the windows is the asshole himself. I’m overcome with
relief for some strange reason. That’s a weird feeling and one I don’t think I
should have at this moment. He looks up and our eyes lock. He still has the
most amazing eyes I have ever seen. Super intense. That part I definitely
remember. He smiles at me, showing no teeth, but it’s definitely a warm smile.

“Good morning,” he greets me as he closes the lid
on his MacBook. Shutting the door behind me, I continue looking at him,
wondering how I ended up here. I try to rationalize everything in my head, but
I
was
in his bed after all. I always
think the worst of every situation I’m in. At least I was wearing my underwear.
Surely, that’s a good sign?

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Shannon.

“Hi,” is the only thing out of my mouth as I tuck
a stray strand of hair behind my ear. My tone is low and soft. I sound unsure
of myself. He has a smirk on his face as he stands up from his desk chair.
After he pushes the chair back, he walks around to the side of his desk.

He leans against the desk crossing his legs. He’s
dressed very similar to the way he was last night, only his white dress shirt
is buttoned all the way and he’s sporting a black tie to match his suit. The
jacket, however, is open, same as last night’s attire.

Wow, the man really is hot! No one should be this breathtaking,
especially early in the morning. The five o’clock shadow I recall from last
night is gone. In its place is the beginning of a goatee. He looks positively
scrumptious. I regret not finding a bathroom to make sure I look presentable. I
probably look like crap.

Slowly, I ask the question screaming in my head.
The question I’m not sure I want to know the answer to. “How did I get here?”
My voice is still low.

“I brought you here last night,” he tells me as he
picks up a coffee mug from his desk, taking a small sip. He never breaks eye
contact with me. He’s looking at me the same way he did last night. I feel
nervous and my body warms all over. This is a feeling I’m not used to, and on top
of it, his response annoys me. I ask the question again and I clear my throat.
I know he knows what I’m really trying to ask, but apparently, he wants to play
games. I hate games and I’m not about to be played with.

“Let me rephrase. How did I end up in your bed,
half naked, wearing what I assume is your shirt?” I mentally pat myself on the
back; I sound stronger. I cross my arms across my chest, waiting for his
response. I try to look the part of someone assertive. His smirk turns into an
amazing wide smile, showing off perfect white teeth. Is there anything not
perfect on this man? He lets out a small laugh, obviously finding this funny.

I don’t.

“Well,” he starts out, “when you passed out at the
bar and nearly fell on your face like I told you would happen, I brought you
here where you would be safe and could sleep it off.” After a beat, he adds,
“To clarify, you weren’t in just my t-shirt. I believe you were also wearing a
lacy bra and panties when I put you in my bed last night.” My mouth falls open.
He has a tight smile, but doesn’t wait for me to respond. “So how’s your head
feeling this morning?” 

“Fine,” I spit out a little too quickly, but it is
the truth. I probably should have a nightmare of a headache, but I don’t. I’m
well rested and that’s a little scary. People are supposed to have hangovers
from hell when they drink like I did last night.

He rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t believe me.
“Really?” he asks with a huff, and then takes another sip of his drink. He sits
it back down on the desk, and then crosses his arms to match mine. 

“Yes…really.” I hesitate breaking eye contact to
look for the door. “I have to go,” I say as I spot it on the far end of the
room. Making my way over to the door, I grab my purse sitting on the coffee
table then bolt out. Once I have exited, I’m relieved he didn’t stop me. 

Leaning against the door, I try to calm my nerves.
That was awkward to say the least. I still don’t know what happened…did I…if
we. Ughhh.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I get that
drunk?
Because your boyfriend cheated on
you!
I remind myself, and your best friend might as well have gutted you
with a knife.

Fucking bitch!

I make my way to the elevator and press the down
button. As I wait for its arrival, I notice I’m on the top floor, the floor to
the penthouse.
Wow…way to pick ‘em up,
Shannon.
I don’t let my mind wander any longer. I get in, pressing the
button to the seventh floor. At least I’m still in the hotel.

Once in my room, I place my purse on the bedside
table; I need a hot shower. I don’t have any clean clothes and putting back on
the ones I’m currently wearing is not an option. Dirty underwear is gross and
something I don’t do. 

Shit!

I grab my phone from my purse. Taking a seat at
the head of the bed, tucking my left leg underneath my butt, I look at the
display; I have thirty-plus missed calls and seventeen text messages. A few of
the calls are from Luke and Allison, but most are from Katelyn and Stacy. 

I press Katelyn’s number from my missed call list
first. Less than three seconds after it starts to ring, I hear Stacy’s voice
screaming at me. “Are you okay? Where the hell are you?”

I smile at my friend’s concern. Apparently, she’s
spoken to Allison, but I don’t want to think about that bitch right now. “Slow the
eff down, Stace. One question at a time, please.”

I hear her huff and imagine she is trying to calm
herself down. Stacy excites very easily. “Well,” she draws out. “Are you okay?”
Stacy doesn’t pause to let me answer which is good because I don’t have any
intention of getting into a serious conversation over the phone. “Allison
called last night. I just don’t want to believe it,” she sighs out.

I ignore what she has just said. I don’t want to
discuss Allison or what happened yet. I don’t even know how I feel. I only want
clean clothes, and she is my source of getting them. “Do you have to work
today? I really need some clean clothes.”

Knowing Stacy as well as I do, I can imagine she’s
getting irritated that I’m dodging what she is after, but I don’t care. 

“Yes, but not until later this afternoon,” she
tells me. “You didn’t answer my question,” she says, stating the obvious.

“Good. Can you bring me some of Katelyn’s clothes,
and we will talk when you get here? I’m at
The Cove
, room 704,” I tell her while adjusting the pillows
behind me.

“Sure, but what’s wrong with my clothes?” she asks
in a tone that tells me I have offended her. I roll my eyes. Like she doesn’t
know! No one can fit into the tiny pieces of material she wears as
clothes. 

“Nothing, except everything you own is either a
size zero or extra small, you skinny bitch. It’s not going to happen when I’m a
size eight,” I say adding a playful laugh, trying to lighten the conversation.

“Point taken,” Stacy snorts. “It’s good to hear
you laugh, Shannon. We were worried about you when you didn’t answer any of our
calls or texts last night.” 

Finally, I give her the answer she wants, but I
keep it short because this is not a conversation I want to have over the phone.
It’s not a conversation I want to have at all. I wish I could make it all
disappear. I just don’t want to deal with any of the shit today or even
tomorrow. God, I hate him for doing what he did. “I’m okay; now put your ass in
gear and get over here. Please don’t take all day!” I shout in the sternest
voice I can muster. 

“Okay!” she shouts back. “Is there anything in
particular of hers you want me to bring? I can be there in about an
hour.” 

“Jeans if possible, but nothing dressy or sloppy.
Thanks,” I say and hang up. I still need clean underwear so I dial the
concierge desk asking for the cleaning service to come pick up my clothes for a
wash. A nice sounding man tells me that service will be up in ten minutes. I
hang up and quickly strip out of all my clothes. I place them in a garment bag
and set them just outside the door. After shutting the door, I head for the
bathroom. 

Entering the spacious room, I turn the shower on
to hot. As I wait for the right temperature, I reach for the new toothbrush
resting in its holster. I apply toothpaste and silently say a thank you to
management for this hotel supplying all the required toiletries one needs to
freshen up.

As I begin brushing my teeth, steam from the
shower starts to filter in the bathroom; I know the water is perfect. I get in
after rinsing the toothpaste out of my mouth. 

I stand under the water letting everything wash
away from the previous day. My tense shoulders quickly relax under the heat of
the water, and surprisingly, I feel great. I should feel like shit after
yesterday and drinking last night, but oddly, I think I’m relieved. I’m not
sure why that is, or what that really means. Seeing Luke and Allison the way I
did hurt, a lot, but not in the way I think it should have. Maybe that means
I’m not in love with Luke anymore. Was I ever? I don’t think two people who are
in love can just fall out of love.

They certainly don’t cheat.

Two people who are truly made for each other can
get through anything life can throw, except cheating. Perhaps some people might
be able to get past something like that, but I can’t, and I won’t. For me, there
are no second chances or forgiveness from that.

I hope his dick gets flesh-eating rash. It would
serve him right. He’s a cheating shit, and he deserves everything he gets
– twofold! Yet, as the water beats down on me, I have to admit; I’m not
heartbroken.
Why am I not sad over the
loss and betrayal of my fiancé?
I
am
beyond pissed off though.

Five years down the toilet.

I put the thought of him out of my mind and think
about Allison as I massage shampoo through my hair. She, on the other hand, I
hate. I never thought that was possible. I loved her the way I imagine I would
love a sister. That person you tell everything to and never feel ashamed or
embarrassed. So why the fuck did she do this to me? It’s a total mind fuck. I
don’t understand.

It’s unforgiveable.

I shut all thoughts out of my mind and rinse the
conditioner out of my hair. I quickly shave before turning the water off.
Stepping out of the shower, I grab a towel to dry off.

Fifteen minutes later, I
’
m showered, shaved, moisturized and now snuggled
in a cozy, plush bathrobe. Again, I thank management. This hotel is amazing.