Degradation (36 page)

“Sounds like a good time. Would you like to have a good time?” he asked. She laughed.

“
Sorry. I think I've had enough good times to last me a lifetime,” she replied, finally turning to face him.

“Pity. I think we could be really good together. Jameson told me about you,” he told her. She lifted an eyebrow.

“Did he now,” she replied softly.

“
Yeah. Told me how you like things a little crazy. A lot rough. Now that Pet's back in the picture, I thought you might need someone else to, uh ...,
provide
those things for you,” Dunn said.

“He told you that,” she whispered.

Tate was offended, but it was slipping away. The xanax was taking control. She didn't really care. Jameson thought she was a whore. Jameson broke his promise. Jameson set up an elaborate plan to cruelly humiliate her. What was one more log on the fire? Jameson told all his friends what a deviant freak she was in bed.

I just don't care
.

“
So. I think, that, we could have a
really
fun time together, you and I. I might even be better than Jameson,” Dunn teased.

No one is better than Jameson
.

“Sure,” she blurted out. Dunn looked surprised.

“Seriously?” he checked.

“I just got dumped tonight, right? Very publicly. What could be better than a revenge fuck? Sounds like a plan, let's suit up,” Tate laughed. Dunn's hands went to his belt buckle, started pulling it apart.

Her stomach dipped to the right and she wondered if she would vomit. Hoped she vomited on Dunn. She felt like she was standing outside of herself. She swayed back and forth, wondered if that would help her find her ghost.

I want Ang. Where's Ang?

“So just how rough do you like it, baby?” the guy growled at her, working his pants down his hips. Tate laughed again. It was hollow sounding. Alien. She glanced around. Who was laughing?

“Hit me with your best shot,” she chuckled.

He backhanded her so hard that she spun around and her head crashed in to the mirror, breaking it.

That's definitely gonna leave a mark.

She groaned, not even sure what the fuck was going on, when he grabbed the back of her dress and slammed her flat against the granite sink top. She let out a cry as her jaw smacked down hard.

Okay, there's rough, and then there's
rough
. I may not be boss-bitch enough for this.

“
You're so fucking hot. I knew the first time I saw you, I had to fuck you.
So fucking hot,
” Dunn groaned, clawing at her underwear and dragging it down her legs.

Maybe this isn't a really super good idea.

“Wait, wait,” she mumbled. Her tongue felt heavy and thick.

“You're gonna love this, I promise,” he grunted, pushing her dress out of the way. She tried to push away from the counter, but her movements were slow and clumsy.

“Wait, I don't want -,”

Tate cried out as he pushed inside of her. She wasn't exactly prepared for sex, and Mr. Dunn apparently wasn't interested in foreplay. It was rough, and it hurt. She gripped onto the edge of the sink and bit down on her tongue so hard, she tasted blood. She wanted to say stop, but every time she opened her mouth, only a sob came out. A piece of mirror was biting in to her cheek and she ground her face down harder, welcoming the pain. But then, suddenly, she was being pulled backwards.

“
No no no no no no,
” she chanted, trying to grip onto the sink so she could break away. But she couldn't really flex her fingers and she slid backwards, falling to the floor and landing on her butt. She fell back against the door and then forward, winding up in a heap halfway in the bedroom and halfway in the bathroom. She tried to focus, but the room was so dark and she was so drunk, she couldn't figure out what going on at first.

Wrestling. Two people were wrestling. She started to laugh. Jameson was wrestling with Mr. Dunn. They were shouting, but she couldn't tell what they were saying. Jameson sounded
very
angry. She glanced down at herself, realized what a fright she must look. Managed to wiggle her underwear back on, push her dress back down, all while still folded up on the floor.

When she looked back up, the wrestling was over. Mr. Dunn had disappeared. Jameson was slowly walking towards her. She could only see his legs from her position, so she tilted her head back. Back.
Waaaay
back, taking him all in. He was such an imposing man, a person needed outstanding vision to see him. She blinked up at him.

“I fell down,” Tate whispered.

“Yes. Yes you did, baby girl,” Jameson whispered back. She hiccuped.

“Did you win?” she asked. He sighed and squatted down in front of her.

“For once, I did not. You dealt the last hand. Had all the chips. Did you invite him in here?” Jameson asked in a gentle voice. Tate shook her head and nearly threw up.

“No. He came after,” she replied.

“After what?”

“Afterrrrr ...,”

“Did you want him to do that?”

“I thought I did.”

“You asked him to have sex with you?” Jameson questioned her. Questions. So many questions.
Q
. What a strange letter.

“No. He asked me. I can't feel my lips,” she told him.

“And you said yes,” Jameson whispered. She nodded.

“Yes. You have a Danish beauty. I'd like a financier of my own,” she laughed. Jameson smiled down at her.

“Wait right here, please,” he requested, and then he left the room.

She laid back down on the floor. Curled up in to the fetal position. She was pretty sure she was crying. What had she done?
What had she done!?
Something horrible, terrible. Jameson was Satan, but she was worse. He hurt other people, which was bad. She hurt herself, which was
so much
worse.

All I have is me
.

Jameson came back in to the room. Tate managed to push herself upright again, but had to keep her hands planted on the floor to keep from swaying. He squatted down again, and she looked up at him. Narrowed her eyes. He had something in his arms, bundles of something. He began dropping them on the ground, all in front of her. She looked down, tried to focus.

Oh my, that is a lot of money.

When there were no more bundles, she looked back up at him. He had his hands clasped together.

“Eight weeks. $4,000 a week. Your services are no longer required, Ms. O'Shea. Please get the fuck out of my house,” he said, oh-so-politely.

Tate held her tears in check until he left the room. Then she sobbed. Climbed to her feet. Stared at the money. She stumbled back in to the bathroom. Tried not to look at the broken mirror or the blood on the counter. She grabbed the bottle of Jack from off the floor, and then swiped the bottle of pills as well. Then, on her way out of the bathroom, she grabbed a set of keys off a hook by the door. When she left the room, she kicked the piles of money out of the way.

Tate didn't want to see anybody, didn't want anyone to see her. She took a set of back stairs, previously service stairs. Had to go out a back door and cut around the side of the house to get to the driveway. No small feat, while wearing five inch heels and borderline black out drunk. When she got to the line of cars, she pushed the car lock button till she saw the Bentley's lights blink.

“
Thank
God,
” she groaned, shambling towards it. She had her hand on the door handle when there was a crunching sound.

“What are you doing!?” a voice yelled from behind her, and then she was being yanked in a circle. Sanders was holding her arms.

“Sandy!” she cried out, falling to the side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her upright and then leaned her against the car.

“Oh my god, what happened?” he asked, holding her face towards the light. She pulled away.

“Oh Sandy, didn't he tell you? I won! I finally, finally won. Chalk one up to the little guy. I'm going home now, I don't know if I'll ever see you again,” Tate told him, moving and yanking open the car door.

“I don't think that's such a good idea,” Sanders said quickly, grabbing her arm again.

“Oh, I really do.
Mr. Kane
personally asked me to leave. He's a very sore loser. Please keep in touch,” she asked, trying to drop in to the seat. Sanders pulled her up again.

“Please. I'm begging you. Just stay here,” he asked. She pushed him away.

“I wouldn't stay here another minute, not even if you paid me,” she informed him. He gripped her arms hard.

“
Tatum,” he said her name sharply. That got her attention. Sanders had never, ever said her first name before; she wanted to cry again. “
Don't do this.
”

“I have to do this,” she replied, and then shoved him as hard as she could. He stumbled over the loose pebbles and she slipped in to the car, locking the doors. Sanders pounded on the roof but she ignored him and started up the car. Wiggled her fingers at him as she drove off.

See. This isn't hard. Way easier than playing with Jameson Kane.

“
You have to stop her
.”

Jameson looked up. Sanders had just burst in to the library. He looked like a ghost.

“Excuse me?” Jameson asked, leaning back in his office chair.

“Tatum. She just left,” Sanders explained. Jameson chuckled.

“I think that's probably for the best,” he replied. Sanders shook his head.

“No. She's drunk, Jameson,” he stressed. Jameson frowned.

“She'll be fine.”

“She's not fine! She just to-,”

Jameson slammed his hand down on the top of his desk.

“
Don't fucking talk about her again! I don't want to hear her name,
anything
. Don't even reference her!” he yelled. Sanders stared at him for a minute.

“
You don't mean any of this. You need her. What you did was
wrong
. Go find her, and apologize,” he said in an even voice. Jameson was shocked.

“
I'm not apologizing for shit. Yeah, I did a shitty thing. She fucked my friend, Sanders.
My business partner,
in
my own home
. In
your
bathroom! I gave her money, she's gone. It's done, it's over. Drop it,” he snapped. Sanders took a deep breath.

“Are you saying you will not go after her? Not even, at the very least, to ensure her safety?” he asked. Jameson glared at him.

“Your are skating perilously close to the edge,” he hissed. Sanders stood up straighter.

“Then consider this my notice, sir,” he stated.

The shocking just did not stop.

“You can't mean that,” Jameson actually laughed. Sanders refused to look at him.

“Effective immediately. I will clean out my stuff and be gone within the hour,” he said. Jameson jumped up.

“
I am practically family! You barely know her! You've known me for ...,
for forever!
” he shouted.

“I do not wish to be employed by a man of your caliber, sir. I find it beneath me,” Sanders replied.

She really got to him.

“If you really feel that way, Sanders, then fine. Go. I wish you all the best. This job will not be waiting for you,” Jameson attempted to call his bluff.

“Pardon me, sir, but
I
will not be waiting for
it
,” Sanders said, and then hurried from the room. Jameson blinked after him, then picked up a heavy crystal tumbler. Threw it at the wall as hard as he could. Watched it explode everywhere.

Well goddamn, no one knows how to fuck something up quite like I do ...,

Tatum wasn't sure how she did it, but she made it all the way back to Boston without crashing, and without getting arrested.

She couldn't figure out why she was so upset. She had drunken enough to knock out a sailor. The two xanax had been no help, either. She struggled to open the pill bottle while she drove, swerving all over the road. She knocked five more pills in to her mouth, then chugged some more whiskey. When she looked in to the bottle and saw that there were only four pills left, she figured what the hell. Anything to make pain stop. The empty bottle went out the window. Then when she was right outside the city limits, she picked up her phone. Called the only person she could think of; the only person she wanted to talk to, ever again.

“I'm so glad you called, sweetie. I'm sorry for everything I said -,” Ang began gushing the minute he answered the phone. She let out a loud sob and he stopped.

“I can't, Ang. I just can't. I need you so much,” Tate cried.

“What's wrong? Where are you?” he demanded.

“I don't know, I don't know where I am. What am I doing!? He was so horrible, Ang. So horrible. And she was so beautiful,” she sobbed, coughing and hiccuping.

“Jesus, you sound really drunk, Tate. How much have you had?” he asked.

“Oh, no no no, not enough. Not nearly enough,” she said, her breath hitching.

“Where are you, right now?” he asked again.

“I'm such a horrible person, Ang. I did the worst thing,” she whispered, her words starting to slur. The road was definitely getting blurrier.

“Oh god, what did you do?” he gasped.

“I didn't want to do it. I just wanted him to bleed a little. I don't think he has any blood. Does Satan bleed?” she asked, her mind starting to settle. Like a fog. She swerved across a lane and a car honked at her. She jerked the wheel back.

“
Jesus christ, Tate, are you
driving!?
” Ang shouted at her. She hummed in to the phone.

“
I'm flying,
” she whispered.

“
Shit.
Pull over,
right now,
I'm coming to get you. Tell me where you are,” he demanded. She shook her head.

“Don't waste your time on me. I don't have a watch,” she laughed.

“What the fuck are you going on about!? You're scaring me right now, stop it.
Stop the car!
” he ordered. She shook her head violently back and forth, and then saw two of everything.

“I can't. I'm so dirty. He made me filthy. I have to wash him away. I have to get clean. I'm gonna go get clean. Clean, clean, clean, clean,” she began to sing softly, and then she dropped the phone. It hit the edge of the door and skittered out the open window, carrying Ang's screaming voice out onto the road.

A long time ago, on one of their jaunts through the city, she and Ang had discovered a swimming pool. In a nicer neighborhood; Olympic sized; beautiful. But expensive entrance fees. Fuck that. They had found a basement window that would open if someone wiggled it the right way. All Tate could focus on was getting to that pool. She parked the car – or at least she was pretty sure she parked it – and managed to get the window open, no problem. Dropping down was another issue. She was pretty sure her ankle was sprained.

She hobbled to the pool. Large windows lined the top of the building, flooding the room with light from the parking lot. Everything had an eerie, silver glow to it. She walked around the tiled edge, taking off pieces of clothing. When she was down to her bra and underwear, she stepped down in to the shallow end. Waded deeper, and then laid on her back. Floated off in to outer space, the bottle of Jack Daniel's still in one hand, floating along next to her. She stared at the ceiling.

See? This is nice. Still and quiet. That's all I ever wanted.