Beloved Evangeline (8 page)

Finally, after feeling that staying in the bathroom any longer would be even more embarrassing than my behavior outside had already been, I splashed some water on my face (and underarms, please don’t tell anyone) and headed out. I had planned to sneak out, just leave without telling anyone, but luck is rarely on my side. Steve was waiting for me as soon as I turned the corner. I ran right into him.

“
Whoa there, girl, we didn’t get to the highlight of the tour,” he said grabbing me by the arm and whispering, “You didn’t plan on leaving before we’d had our little
chat
, did you?”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. In a former life, I would’ve shaken my arm loose, said something like, “I don’t need to stick around to find out how little your ‘chat’ is,” and kept on walking, but—I couldn’t seem to
muster the strength.
This is for the best, probably, since hiding hasn’t been working out for me so well lately. My nightmares have been returning, and the strange accidents are also back. Maybe it was just not knowing whatever Steve knew about me that made me feel so oddly powerless, so out of control. Just the thought of everyone finding out—that thought alone was enough to almost shrivel me up into nothing.

I became strangely aware of being watched, but before I could investigate, I realized, with horror, that Steve was leading me toward the master bedroom. Instead of dragging me by the arm, he was now escorting me—with his hand on the small of my back. I turned slowly, painfully slowly, to see my entire crew staring at me, watching me being escorted by Steve to the master bedroom. Gavin and Nicky, stood out especially, their wide-eyed looks of concern unmistakable.

Lyle was making a face, shaking his head, and mouthing what looked like, “Don’t do it,” very slowly. Simon was nowhere to be seen.

For some strange reason my thoughts turned to Hemingway.
Every truly wicked thing comes from innocence.
Hopefully this sentiment doesn’t apply to me, a girl—a one-dimensional character.

Steve led me into the bedroom, closed, and then locked, the door.

I raised my eyebrows.

“
I’m just thinking of your privacy,” he said, answering my look of concern.

I made a face reflecting my disbelief, which Steve ignored, grinning.

“
Can I get you a drink?” he asked smoothly.

“
I guess,” was all I could reply.

Steve smiled and poured a glass of amber liquid for both of us. I downed mine in one gulp, to numb the pain that was threatening to devour my soul.

“
That’s what I’m talking about,” Steve smirked, before handing me another drink.

I decided to drink this one more slowly. I looked around the gigantic suite, truly afraid and dreading hearing whatever he would say, when a horrific realization struck me:
For the love of God—he really
does
have a gilded mirror over his bed.

“
I can see that you’re ready to get down to it,” he said, following my gaze toward the mirror and leaning eagerly toward me.

“
Umm,” I replied, turning my face away from his, “Maybe you could tell me whatever it is you wanted to
talk
to me about?”

He laughed sarcastically. “
Right
. Well, I thought maybe we could talk a little... later?” He raised an eyebrow and sat down on the bed.

Wow. I am an idiot
. I was so worried about... other things, it just didn’t occur to me he could actually be this much of a sleaze. I guess I thought all of the talk around other guys was more bravado than anything else. Obviously, I’d been gravely wrong. I also hadn’t been in this sort of situation in a long, long time.

“
You’re different from other girls, Evangeline... I noticed that when I met you. You’re special. Anyone could tell you that.”

I winced, with my back to him, at this shameless attempt to seduce me.

“
Well,” I replied, trying my best to sound casual, “being ‘special’ isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes it really,
really
sucks.”
Particularly right now.
“Just one of those little things they never tell you in school. Anyway, you said you had a secret to share with me?” I was rapidly losing faith in my ability to redirect him.

He grinned devilishly. “You really need me to spell it out for you? Alright. What I know about you is that you’re a man-eater, a hellcat, Evangeline. That’s what everyone is saying about you, that you’re very
adventurous
, but you have to dispose of your men when you’re through with them. I’ve heard the stories. You’re into all kinds of freaky shit, but since most guys can’t handle it, you chew ‘em up and spit ‘em out. You don’t waste time with childish attachments. It’s obvious at the office—no attachments there.” He raised his eyebrows.

“
You sure do keep a low profile, though, I’ll give you that. It took me almost five years to figure you out. For the longest time I thought you were just another stuck-up bitch. Still, there was something...
different
about you, and I was curious.” He began making his way toward me. “Girls like you are very rare. Very
rewarding
. I would definitely like to be chewed up and spit out by you.
I
can handle it. I like a...
challenge
.” He smiled and brushed the hair off my shoulder, tracing his finger along my collarbone.

I was still stuck on the
dispose of men
bit. I stared down at my lap.

My left hand twitched.

“
No. There’s no misunderstanding this time.” Steve replied, tightening his grip and turning me toward him, “You knew exactly what you were coming for tonight,” he leaned forward to kiss me.

My hands were trembling slightly, but I managed to hold it together and brush him aside. “Look, I’m here because I overheard you and the guys talking about New Mexico. That’s the
only
reason I even came to your party. So please unlock the door so I can go back to my friends.”

“
Friends
?” He laughed cruelly, “What friends? Your ‘friends’ don’t even
like
you. I’ve seen how Simon looks at you. I don’t know what you did to him, but the dude can’t stand you—everyone knows that. He’s only hanging around with you as a favor to that a-hole Gavin; you do know that, right? And Nicky, she’s got her own husband and kids. She doesn’t have time for you. And weren’t you guys friends when you were kids, anyway? Yeah, so she doesn’t even count. Who’s your other friend,
Lyle
, the biggest geek on the planet?
Please
. Believe me, either they don’t technically qualify as human beings or they’re not going to miss you for a little while.”

The sickening part of his whole speech was that he was right. Deep down, I have always known it—I just don’t belong. Being a misfit is one thing, and I’ve learned to live with it, but I kept brushing it off as a trick of my imagination, the possibility that Simon really dislikes me. If Steve sees it, too, though, it must be true. While I was lost in thought, he took advantage of my silence and put his arm around me, apparently bored with talk.

I turned my head and sort of made my arm go limp in an amateurish attempt to slink from his grasp. After a bit of covert struggling, I managed to disentangle myself. However, Steve had a look of determination on his face that said much more force was needed to dissuade him.

My insides, already simmering, began to boil. I’m nearly 35—I should no longer have to be defending myself from this type of guy. It’s bad enough at the office, having to use evasive maneuvering to avoid awkward encounters, or to feign politeness in order to look like I’m being a good sport.
No
more
.

All pretense and politeness gone, I stopped struggling and turned to Steve.

“
Look, I didn’t really want to put it this bluntly, but since you don’t seem to be getting the point with subtlety, I don’t seem to have a choice: This is NOT going to happen,” I was angry, particularly at the feeling of betrayal I felt in my heart. I considered Simon among my few true friends, one of the only people in the otherwise heartbreakingly empty world whom I actually trusted. Yet another slap in the face to me, in what seemed to be an endless barrage of such behavior.

A rage in me seemed to intensify with each word I spoke. For some reason I didn’t care to think about, it felt good. So I continued, focusing all of it onto Steve. “There is no
fucking
way. Honestly, I’d rather die. I was trying to be tactful before, so I hope that makes it clear enough for you. If not, then let me add that you are just about the most sickeningly obnoxious person I’ve ever met. I have done everything possible to avoid interacting with you at work for that very reason, and I will literally vomit if you touch me again. Now
unlock
the
goddamn door
before I start screaming—or vomiting—your choice.”

I didn’t even see his backhand coming. I was knocked backward but remained on my feet, the room spinning and blurry. While I was dazed, he pushed me down onto the floor.
Hard
.

So much for honesty and standing up for myself.

“
Just who
the fuck
do you think you are, girl? You’re a
researcher
, a glorified librarian. A geek, a loser. Just because you try so hard to be different doesn’t mean you’re any better than any other piece of ass out there,” he grinned wickedly. “I knocked you down so easily—you’re not nearly the hard-core loner you seem to think you are.”

I scrambled as quickly as I could to get away, but he was faster. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me back toward him.

I kicked him off, using the back of a loveseat to pull myself up. The room was impossibly large and filled with furniture; I was just trying to get my bearings and figure a way out when Steve dove, slamming his body into me and sending both of us onto the stone floor.

To my horror, Steve was on top of me, groping and grabbing and biting at my neck and shoulders. I screamed, but it was too muffled to be heard as he was basically all over me. He was literally trying to tear my shirt off. I heard my clothing tearing as he wrestled to pin me down. I struggled wildly but for all I was worth my struggling seemed to do no good. He responded by twisting my arm behind my back, twisting it so hard that I screamed in pain. I knew I had to do something fast, or something unspeakably ugly was about to happen. I silently cursed myself for not working out more, taking some kind of martial arts class, anything. Lacking those skills, I decided what I needed do to was to kick him, as hard as I could, and make a run for it, if only I could get a leg free.

Steve was struggling with his pants, and therefore momentarily distracted and leaving a small gap between us, likely the only opportunity I was going to get. I thrust my right arm in one sudden movement with all of my strength, wrenching it free. Steve, seeing the free arm, reached out and grabbed for it, but he was too late. I was already using the arm, thrusting it downward as forcefully as I possibly could, until my fist landed on his groin with a brutal-sounding smack.

Steve’s turn to scream in pain. His entire body slackened and shifted to one side in an obvious effort to relieve any pressure from his injured area, which provided me the perfect opportunity to swing one leg out from under him.

My opportunity had come. And so I kicked. Steve flew back harder than I would have imagined possible. Absurdly, unnaturally harder. To my astonishment, he seemed to actually suspend in mid air for several seconds before crashing into a table by the wall.

After scrambling to my feet, I stood there shaking in shock and disbelief. The shock only lasted momentarily, however, before I ran the length of the enormous room toward the French doors that opened to the patio. I crashed into the doors and flung them open. I tried to run out, but my foot seemed to catch on something; I tripped out the door and fell onto the patio.

In Steve’s absence, the party had migrated to the backyard. Everyone was outside. With all my commotion, every conversation ceased; people turned to stare. For several painful moments, the only audible sound was the crashing of the waves.