Trashy (18 page)

Roxie

A slip of the tongue.

It’s all it took for me to know how I truly felt.

Boyfriend.

One word.

One seemingly insignificant word.

Adam was so much more than my “boyfriend,” but I had no idea how else to classify him.

Keeper of your heart,
a voice in my head whispered.

My stomach squirmed with nerves because it felt like too much too soon.

We’d only just started seeing each other. Technically, I guess we still weren’t. I never did tell him if I would be his. My subconscious told him, though.

I wondered if he noticed what I called him just before I drove away. I was sure he did, and he didn’t correct me. I smiled and turned up the radio.

This car was incredible. It slid over the road like its tires were made of butter. Yet I felt like it owned the road, that it was stable and reliable. The seats were buttery soft leather, the controls on the dash right at my fingertips. It was a convertible two-seater, but it was just too hot to have the top down. The A/C was sinful, and I sighed in appreciation at how cold and crisp it blew out of the vents. My car’s air never got this cool, even when it worked.

But even if Adam didn’t have a nice car or an apartment on the beach, I would still have fallen for him. He didn’t seem to put much value into material things. I think he just liked nice stuff. I couldn’t fault him for that because everyone liked nice stuff. And he worked for the things he had; he put in the hours and the late nights. He earned it.

He didn’t try to sell his girlfriend into adult films to pay his bills.

I blanched, a sour taste in my mouth. I’d almost forgotten about that little confrontation I had with Craig. But then Adam mentioned tomorrow, and it all came crashing back.

Be at that address day after tomorrow, Roxie. Come dressed like the trashy bitch you are.

It’s already a done deal.

Craig expected me to show up at some skeevy address tomorrow and have sex on command. Sex with someone I didn’t know. Someone I didn’t want to know. Someone who would probably make my skin crawl.

If I had any doubt that I had any love left in my heart for Craig, it was completely gone. I could never love anyone who tried to whore me out. Literally.

I hadn’t lied to Adam. In fact, the truth had been hard as hell to say out loud. But I wanted him to know. I wanted to give him all the info before he decided he really did want me.

Craig would always have a little piece of my heart. I think it’s like that for all first loves. At least I hoped it was. If not, then I was one twisted bitch.

But I was finally okay with that. I was okay with it because that little piece of me belonged to the Craig I knew when I was seventeen. The guy who wore hoodies in the cold and sang to the radio way too loud and off key. He was the guy who fed me Fritos right out of the bag and the first guy to make my heart flutter beneath my ribs.

That Craig wasn’t the same one I knew today. This Craig scared me.

I wondered what he would do when I didn’t show up. How angry he would be. What if he took his anger out on Adam and not me? Could I live with myself if Adam got hurt—or worse—because he got caught up in my past?

But I couldn’t go. Just the thought of starring in some porn made me want to pull over and vomit. Yeah, Craig mentioned it when we were still together. He brought it up more than once. I always told him he was crazy, and he always sort of laughed it off.

But he hadn’t been joking.

One night when he was really drunk and really high, he came home crying. He smelled like cinnamon schnapps, and it made my stomach heave, but even still, I sat with him, close to his side, while he cried about how unworthy he was.

We’d had the same conversation many times.

It didn’t matter how many times I told him he was good enough, that he was worth more than he thought… Turns out you can’t tell someone their own self-worth. They have to feel it for themselves.

And then he turned desperate. He told me he had a way to get us free of the life we were living, a way to solve all our problems.

If I did just a couple movies, we’d have enough to settle all our debts (our debts = money he owed his dealers), and he could go to rehab, get clean for real, and then we could start a new life. A better life.

I already knew the only better life for me was one without him. I’d known for a long time. I just didn’t know how to get out. I didn’t know how to get away.

Of course I told him no. I said it as gently as I could. I promised I’d find another way to get him into rehab and out of debt.

He didn’t like my answer.

He screamed ugly things at me. The scent of that damned cinnamon schnapps gusted over my face. He told me I had to do it. I didn’t have a choice.

I tried to leave.

He hit me.

He hit me more than once.

When he passed out, I snuck out. I slept in my car that night.

Shortly after, I met Harlow. I moved out and months passed.

I thought he’d forgotten about the porn stuff. I should have known better.

The revving of an engine brought me out of the terrible memory. It was close by, and I glanced out the window in the lane beside me, then in the lane to my right. There was no car with a revving engine.

Then I heard it again.

I glanced in the rearview mirror.

A car that looked like a something you would find in a cereal box was riding my bumper so closely that I couldn’t see the front end of it at all.

My pulse spiked and adrenaline started to pump through my veins. I squinted down at the speedometer. I was traveling five miles over the speed limit so I wasn’t being slow.

Again, I scanned the lanes to my left and right. There was plenty of opportunity to pass me.

Suddenly, the car behind me swerved erratically and sped up beside me. The car was so incredibly close to the side of the BMW, I flinched, bracing for a hit.

What the hell!

I peeked over to get a look at the driver, but he yanked the steering wheel and almost smacked into me. I screamed and jerked the wheel to get away.

The car in the lane beside me laid on their horn as I cut them off.

The matchbox car was now driving in the lane I’d just been in and he was swerving around, coming close, then backing away and repeating the action over and over.

Cars around us were beeping their horns and speeding up to get around the maniac driver.

Every time I tried to pass him, he’d swerve at me again, trying to run me off the road.

Oh my God, he was trying to run me off the road.

I punched the gas and pulled onto the shoulder of the road and drove that way, passing a couple cars illegally and then taking a sharp right-hand turn to avoid my pursuer.

The sound of tires squealing and horns blaring had me looking out the back window. The car had literally cut through the traffic to follow me.

Fed up and scared out of my mind, I slammed on the brakes, jerking the car to a sudden halt. I pulled to the side of the street and sat there.

Let him come.

I was sooo not in the mood for this today.

The matchbox car rolled down the street toward me, almost creeping. It was freaky because I felt like I was being stalked. Hunted.

I hated it.

I rolled my window down just as he slid up beside me.

His window was down too.

He was wearing a hat pulled low over his face, an oversized sweatshirt, and a pair of sunglasses. He lifted his arm, pointing something in his hand at me.

My mouth fell open and I froze.

Was that a gun?

“No!” I shrieked and threw my hands up in front of my face.

The tires screeched as the car jerked to a halt.

Slowly, I pulled my hands away and looked at the man holding out a gun. Even though he was wearing shades, I felt it when our eyes connected.

“Shit,” he mouthed.

Then he lowered the gun and sped away.

I collapsed against the seat, breathing like I’d just run a marathon.

That man had tried to run me off the road and then he meant to shoot me!

I don’t know what scared him away, why he suddenly changed his mind, but I was grateful.

I could be dead right now.

Adam

I went through the glove box of Roxie’s Mazda. The receipt for the so-called new air conditioner was there. She paid a shit ton of money and they screwed her.

It pissed me off.

I noted the address of the place, then jammed the receipt in my pocket and let myself in the club. Everything looked in order, the place was clean and ready to open tonight.

I went in my office, read through the short but thorough report Cam jotted on a bar napkin, and then checked my messages.

Once I answered the most urgent shit, I palmed the keys to Roxie’s car and locked up the club.

The repair place was about ten miles down the road, so I pulled out onto the main drag and stopped immediately at a red light. I’d been in this car for all of two minutes, with the windows down, and I was already sweating and miserable.

It pissed me off even more.

When the light turned green, I gassed it, hoping to get some airflow in this tomb. As I went through the intersection, I noted a red sports car pull out behind me. I might not have noticed, but it was a sweet ride and I liked sweet rides.

I got an even better look at it when it pulled up right behind me.

I got this feeling in my gut. It wasn’t a good one. I kept driving down the road, glancing at the car every few seconds. It was definitely following me.

Since this was Roxie’s car, that meant whoever that asshole was back there probably thought they were following her.

Oh, hell no.

I jerked the wheel into a nearby parking lot. Ironically, it was an auto repair shop. I didn’t bother pulling into a parking spot.

The red car pulled into the lot behind me, rolling across the pavement toward the Mazda. I unhooked my seatbelt and sprang out of my driver’s seat. Red tinged my vision and my teeth gritted together.

This better not be who I thought it was.

I’d fucking beat his ass.

Then I’d run him over.

Leaving the car door open, I rose to my full height, letting the pumping adrenaline fuel my muscles, and walked toward the car traveling closer.

I stared at the windshield where I knew the driver sat. The glare of the sun on the glass made it impossible to see who was driving. I didn’t really care. Whoever this was needed to know following around Roxie was a giant hell no.

The car slowed as I marched toward it. Challenge was clear in my presence. Then the car shifted into reverse and backed away.

I started running.

The tires peeled, leaving behind a little cloud of smoke as the car sped down the street, hung a left, and drove out of sight.

I was kind of sorry he left in such a hurry.

I got back in the Mazda and drove the rest of the way to the repair shop. Those fuckers didn’t stand a chance. I parked the car right at the entrance in a spot that wasn’t a parking spot at all and stalked into the service center.

I pulled out the receipt and slapped it down on the counter. Everyone in the place jumped and sat up at attention.

I snarled as I spoke. I told them how very unhappy I was that my woman got ripped off and was sweating her ass off in the southern heat.

Then I made sure they knew just how unhappy I was.

By the time I slammed out of the place, Roxie was getting a brand new air-conditioner, an oil change, and a set of brand new tires.

For free.

It would be done tomorrow.

If it wasn’t, this place would be shut down by the end of next week.

Fuckers.

I took a cab back to the club.

Who the fuck had been following Roxie? And why?

Roxie

I was still shaking when I pulled into a nearby gas station. It wasn’t the one I usually stopped at on my way home, and I chose that one on purpose.

I needed a few extra minutes to calm my racing heart. I knew Harlow was most likely at home, and I didn’t want to get there looking as freaked out as I felt.

Maybe it was just a joke.

Maybe it had been a horrible, horrible joke.

It wasn’t,
a voice inside me hissed.

I decided, since I was there, to top off the tank. Technically, Adam didn’t need gas, but I figured if I was going to drive his car, the least I could do would be to replace the gas.

When I was done, I drove the car forward into a spot by the door. I walked inside to pay for the gas and decided to grab something cold to drink. Maybe the icy cold water would jolt me back to reality.

Scratch the water. I needed something with sugar.

I wandered down the candy isle and when I spied a pack of SweeTarts, bile rose in my throat. Once my favorite candy, it now ignited my gag reflex.

Lovely.

Avoiding all the food, I went toward the back and the row of drink coolers. I stood there staring at all the choices for long minutes without processing what I was seeing. Finally, I blinked and opened the glass door and reached in for a Sprite.

I felt sort of numb. I guess I was in shock. It wasn’t every day a girl had a gun pointed at her face. Not even Craig had done that to me.

I let the door slip from my grasp and it fell shut with a thud. An image reflected in the glass in front of me.

There was a man standing right behind me.

He was menacing and intimidating. Waves of anger rolled off him.

I spun around, startled.

Craig curled his upper lip at me and practically snarled.

“How did you know I was here?” I gasped and held the bottle of soda between us like it was a weapon.

“What the fuck are you doing in his car?” he asked, stepping toward me.

I took a step back, trying to recover the distance between us. My back came up against the cooler door, the chilly temp of the glass shocking me through my shirt.

“I’m having car trouble,” I said, hating that I was explaining. But I was scared. I knew I shouldn’t be, but I was.

Craig’s eyes raked over my body and fastened on my shirt. Adam’s shirt.

“Are you wearing his clothes?” he rumbled low, but it might well have been a roar.

Yes. Yes, I was. And it reminded me that I wasn’t with Craig anymore. It was over. He didn’t own me. I pushed off the cooler and moved to walk past him.

He grabbed me by the arm and tossed me back to hit the glass again.

I glanced around for someone that had seen, someone I could signal for help. No one was there.

“I’m leaving,” I said in a strong, even voice.

“You can leave when I say you can,” he replied.

Men like him were so incredibly arrogant. He thought he could walk into any place, even a public place, and dominate me. He thought he could get away with it. In a way, I guess he was. Craig knew how to abuse me in the most quiet of ways. He knew exactly how far he could push without drawing anyone’s eye.

“I’m just here to remind you about our appointment tomorrow morning.”

“I told you I’m not coming.”

His hands fisted at his sides and he leaned in close. I didn’t flinch or cower away. “Listen here, you little whore,” he whispered. The scent of cinnamon schnapps on his breath made me gag. I couldn’t force it back, and my shoulders heaved.

Craig grabbed my chin, crushing it in his grip and pinning my head against the cooler door. “You might be spreading your legs for Mr. Playboy. Maybe he’s even filling your head with pretty lies,” he said. “But you’re mine. And you
will
do this.”

I jerked my head out of his grasp and shoved him away from me. He bumped into the rack behind him and chip bags fell to the floor. His eyes widened in shock that I would dare put my hands on him.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” I said. I rushed past him and up to the counter. I dug some money out of the bottom of my bag and slapped it on the counter. “Pump three,” I told the cashier as she reached for the cash.

“And this,” I said, holding up the soda. “Keep the change.”

I rushed out of the mart as fast as I could go.

With shaking hands, I fumbled with my bag, trying to find the keys. When I pulled them out, they fell from my grasp onto the pavement. I bent to pick them up and noted a pair of dirty sneakers stepping up beside me.

His knuckles slammed into my side, and I made a high-pitched sound. I stumbled over and caught myself from falling with my palm.

Pain radiated through my middle and scorched across my lower back. Craig grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head to the side so he could whisper-yell in my ear. I felt the disgusting spray of spittle slap against my ear as he spoke. “Be there tomorrow or that punch will be the very least of the ways I’ll make you suffer.”

He shoved me down and stalked away.

I climbed in the BMW and locked the doors.

Once Craig had driven away, in the opposite direction I needed to go, I drove home in silence. I barely noticed the pain in my side because the aching in my chest was much worse.

I had a really bad feeling about this.

Just as I thought, Harlow was at our place. She was in the bathroom curling her hair when I hurried past on my way to my room.

“Hey, stranger!” she called out.

“Hey, yourself!” I called back, trying to inject some kind of enthusiasm in my tone. I went into my room as my chin wobbled.

I would not cry.
I would not.

I distracted myself by pulling out an oversized duffle bag and throwing in a bunch of stuff. I didn’t need all this crap for one night at Adam’s, but I figured this way I didn’t have to think and could match something up later, so I just kept shoving it in.

When I was done, I pulled out a pair of dark skinny jeans, wedge heels, and a pink top with a draping cowl neck.

Just as I was about to change, Harlow appeared in my doorway. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Just changing for work.”

“So you’re the boss now, huh?” she said.

I laughed. “Guess so.”

“And you and Adam…” She trailed off, her eyes wide and her smile cheeky.

“Adam’s amazing,” I said, fingering the shirt I was still wearing.

Harlow bounced farther into the room and threw her arms around me. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Thanks,” I said, returning the hug. I didn’t realize how much I needed one.

“You two are perfect together,” she said, pulling back.

I wasn’t sure I was perfect with anyone, but I didn’t burst her bubble. “Hey, I’m going to be staying at Adam’s tonight.”

She wagged her eyebrows at me. “Is he a good kisser?” she asked.

“Duh,” I said.

We both laughed and some of my tension relaxed.

“I knew it,” Harlow sang and walked toward the door.

“Hey,” I said, and she turned back.

“You should stay at Cam’s tonight.”

Her brows drew together. “We were going to stay here tonight.”

I shook my head. “Stay at Cam’s.”

I didn’t want her anywhere near this place. I was afraid of what Craig might do. He was very angry, and if he came here looking for me…

“Roxie, what’s going on?”

“He’s been coming around,” I admitted. “He’s said the most awful things.” I couldn’t stop the broken sob ripping out of my throat. “Threats.”

“He’s threatened you?” Harlow asked sharply.

I only nodded. “He was drunk.” I made an excuse. “He’ll probably forget all about it when he sobers up.”

That was a lie. Craig never forgot anything.

“Maybe we should call the police.”

Maybe we should have. I’d protected Craig for far too long. In a way, it had only made him worse. In trying to help him, I’d become his enabler.

It was the worst feeling I’d had in a long time.

I had only wanted to love him.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.

Harlow hugged me again. The silence of the room was interrupted by my cell going off. Harlow stepped back, and I pulled it out of my bag.

It was Adam.

“Hey,” I said.

“Get your ass to work,” he said gruffly into my ear. Then in a much softer tone, he followed up his order with, “I miss you.”

“Me too,” I echoed. A feeling of homesickness washed over me. The sound of his voice made me want to see him. To touch him.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said, and then he hung up.

His words made me hurt a little bit less.

“Adam?” Harlow asked, a smile on her lips.

I nodded.

“Talk to him, Roxie. Let him help you deal with Craig.”

I agreed, but only because I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t want Adam and Craig anywhere near each other.

“So you’ll stay at Cam’s tonight?” I asked before taking my clothes in the bathroom to do my makeup and hair.

“Sure.” She conceded. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course!” I said, relieved.

Harlow went into her room to finish getting ready for work, and I took all my stuff in the bathroom. “See ya at work!” I called before shutting myself inside and hunching over the sink.

A flashback of the gun being pointed at me earlier made me squeeze my eyes shut.

Be there tomorrow or that punch will be the very least of the ways I’ll make you suffer.

My head snapped back. I stared at myself in the mirror, truth reflecting back from my tired eyes. The only way Craig could truly make me suffer is by hurting those I cared most about. By hurting Adam.

That gun wasn’t meant for me. It was meant for him.

I made it to the toilet in time to throw up. After my stomach was completely empty, I rested my cheek on the cold porcelain of the seat.

What the hell was I going to do?