Claudia
“S
o,” I begin, “do you think that’s the end of it?” I ask Lishelle. “You think you put the fear of God in this guy and he’s going to leave us alone?”
“I did my best,” she responds. “I can’t imagine him even trying to mess with us from this point onward. Let’s face it. Guys like that—they’re bullies. They prey on you if they think you’re weak. My phone call to that shithead told him we’re anything but weak.”
I mull that over as I reach for my mimosa. It’s Saturday morning, and Annelise, Lishelle and I are in Liaisons for brunch. We normally do it Sunday, but with all the crap that’s gone down this week, we wanted to get together earlier.
“You know what’s insanely weird?” Annelise asks. “One minute we were in Vegas having a great time. The next, we were back home and I found out that Charles had killed himself. Then some creep started stalking us. My house sold and I get a nice, fat check on Monday. So much has happened in the span of a couple weeks that it feels like so much more time has passed.”
“I know what you mean,” I agree. “Seems like we went to Las Vegas months ago.”
Lishelle’s lips curl. “Are you saying you’re already ready for another vacation?”
Annelise’s eyes brighten. “Not a bad idea. Maybe we can all head to Costa Rica, and take Samera.”
“Costa Rica?” Lishelle asks. “Not that I object to the idea of gorgeous, Spanish-speaking men—but why there? I wouldn’t think you’d want to go back there after the whole ordeal with Charles.”
“Personally, I’m happy to go to Hawaii or some other exotic place. But my sister…well, it seems she left the love of her life in Costa Rica.”
Lishelle swallows her mouthful of eggs, then says, “You’re joking.”
“No. I’m not.”
“What about Reed?” I ask.
“Reed was convenient,” Annelise replies. “He’s not the man of her dreams.”
I smile, my hopeless romantic feelings coming to life. “So your sister’s in love. Sweet.”
“With a guy who’s not an asshole. Do you see why I’m anxious to get her back together with him?”
“No offence,” Lishelle begins, “but your sister knows how to find trouble. I don’t know that I want to go anywhere with her again.”
I wash my Belgian waffle down with a swig of coffee. “At least life is never boring around her.”
Annelise chuckles. “You’ve got that right.”
“And to make things even more interesting,” I go on, “I can call my fabulous masseur from Vegas and ask if he wants to come along. And you can bring Dominic,” I say to Annelise.
“Of course,” she agrees.
My gaze lands on Lishelle. “And you can bring Rugged.”
Lishelle rolls her eyes. “Talk about stalkers. He has called me at least ten times since we got together on Thursday—and it’s only Saturday!”
“He likes you,” I chime.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have fucked him. But my God, did he ever give it to me good.”
“So bring him to Costa Rica and you’re guaranteed a great time,” Annelise says.
“I could barely walk on Friday,” Lishelle continues, her eyes widening as she looks at me and Annelise in turn. “And I’m not kidding. I had to pretend that I twisted my ankle.”
I crack up, and Annelise does, too. I laugh so hard I start to make these wild snorting sounds.
“Go ahead, laugh,” Lishelle says. But she herself is smiling.
“The guy’s got a big dick and you’re complaining?” I ask. “That’s not the Lishelle I know.”
“Hey, I love his dick,” Lishelle says frankly. “The thing is, I’m starting to feel like he’s in love with me.”
“Already?” Annelise asks.
“You didn’t see the absolutely ridiculous bouquet of roses he sent to the station for me—on Friday morning, after we’d had that incredible night together. It was so huge, it took two guys to carry it into my office. It’s becoming like a funeral home in there.”
“Aww, that’s sweet,” I say.
“Sweet?” Lishelle balks. “He sent me roses on Thursday, then again on Friday. What next—a diamond ring on Monday?”
“He sounds really romantic,” Annelise says.
“He’s twenty-four,” Lishelle reminds her. “Practically a baby.”
“I bet you didn’t think he was a baby when you were calling out his name.” I smile sweetly.
“I’m not gonna lie. The guy is great in bed. No, beyond great. And the stamina. Holy shit, I think he could have fucked me for two days straight, if I didn’t have anything else to do.”
“See?” I say.
“No, you’re the one who’s not seeing the big picture. If it were just sex, that’d be one thing. He could come to town, and we could go at it like rabbits. But I think Roger has fallen in love with me. And love…that’s what I can’t deal with.”
“I know Glenn burned you—” I begin.
“This isn’t about Glenn,” Lishelle interjects. “It’s about me not wanting a relationship right now. Finally I figured out how to fuck like a man—to enjoy the act but leave the emotions aside. And this would have to be the time that the guy decides to get all emotional.”
“It’s not hard to see why,” Annelise says. “You’re gorgeous, talented.”
Lishelle smiles at her. “Thanks. But I think I need to cool things with him for now. Maybe I can tell him that until we’ve planned the fund-raiser, we should abstain from sex.”
“Or maybe you should continue screwing him until we’ve finished the fund-raiser,” I suggest. “It’d be a fun couple months, in any case.”
“I’ll figure out what to do after tonight,” Lishelle says.
“Why after tonight?” Annelise asks. Then, “Ahh, you’re seeing him again!”
Lishelle only grins.
“You little whore,” I say, and laugh. “Then what was with all the drama?”
“Hey, do you expect a hot-blooded woman to say no to amazing sex?” Lishelle asks. “I just don’t want to hurt him.”
“She had me going there for a minute,” I say to Annelise. “What about you?”
Annelise nods. “I believed it.”
“Shut up, you two!” Lishelle gives us a look, then downs the last of her mimosa. Annelise and I share a heartfelt laugh.
“Tell us we’re wrong,” I dare her.
“Okay,” Lishelle goes on. “I’ll admit that I sound like a hypocrite. I’m not quite ready to be done with him. He’s fun. Fucking him is fun. I guess I’m just saying that I’m not ready for a long-term commitment.”
“Has he asked you for one?” Annelise asks.
“No,” Lishelle answers.
“Then don’t stress yourself out. Have fun. Lots of it. If he does give you a ring or something crazy, then you break it off. But with the way the guy travels out of town most of the time, it’s not like you’ll have to see him every day.”
“Sounds like the perfect booy call arrangement,” I point out.
Lishelle nods slowly. “You’re absolutely right. Maybe I’m just afraid of the idea of another relationship.”
“But this isn’t a relationship,” I tell her. “You said so yourself.”
“All right,” Lishelle says. “I’ll deal with this fling with Roger one day at a time.”
“You mean one orgasm at a time!” Annelise corrects her.
Annelise and I share a heartfelt laugh, and even Lishelle can’t help joining in.
I quickly flag the waitress down and order a second round of drinks.
“God, it feels good to be laughing,” Annelise says.
“Does it ever,” I agree. “And you know what—I think we’re going to be laughing for a long time. I talked to my cousin and there are
ten
rap artists signed on to participate in our fund-raiser. That’ll be
ten
concerts around the country. We are going to raise a huge amount of money for the Wishes Come True Foundation!”
Annelise squeals.
“I’m so excited,” Lishelle says.
“I was talking about the charity,” I say, trying to keep a straight face. “Not your scheduled romp for tonight.”
Now Lishelle whacks my arm.
“Shut up!”
But she laughs. And so do I.
And I can’t help thinking that Annelise is right. That it feels so good to be laughing again.
Samera
A
week after my sister told me I could move in with her and Dominic, I’ve finally made the decision to leave Reed’s house.
I’ve stayed out of a sense of obligation, but we’re fighting a lot, and the sex is impassionate, and I just don’t know why I’m here anymore.
I could simply tell Reed that I’m moving out, but I doubt there’ll be anything simple about it. His temper scares me sometimes, and I want right now to make a clean break.
That’s why I’ve waited until Friday night to make my move, one of Reed’s busiest nights at the club. While he’s there, I take the time to pack my stuff. The clothes I originally brought from my apartment, as well as all the new stuff I purchased.
Yesterday it hit me. Hit me hard. That I can’t stay with Reed, play house with him and lead him on when I don’t really want a future with him. He saw an application I had filled out for a restaurant job, and he hit the roof.
“You don’t appreciate me…what about my suggestion that we work together…” I listened to his tirade, and it went in one ear and out the other.
I was weak, running to him after getting the letters, but I can stay with my sister or even get a new apartment. That’s the one great thing about my job as a stripper that I’ll never regret. I made tons of cash and was smart enough to save most of it.
And this is perhaps a bit of a chicken-shit way to do this—sneaking out of Reed’s house while he’s at work—but I don’t want to face him. I know he’s not going to let me go without a fight, and I don’t need that.
What I need is a clean escape. To have him come home and find me gone and just know that it’s over forever.
No more playing games.
I take my time writing Reed a note, considering every word carefully. I don’t want to hurt him, because as much as I know we’re not right for each other, I really do appreciate all he’s done for me. When he gets over feeling hurt, I hope that we can be friends.
The note finished, I place it in an envelope with his name scrawled on it, then leave the envelope on his kitchen table.
Then I head to the closet to pack my stuff.
I go through the closet in the spare bedroom, and when I’m through gathering all my clothes, I notice that some outfits are missing. Like the new dress I splurged on at Fendi, and a couple pairs of jeans.
Odd. Because I know I haven’t worn them yet.
I head to Reed’s bedroom and open his closet. I don’t find the outfits there, either.
Maybe I
did
wear them, and Reed sent them out to be dry-cleaned. It’s been a stressful few weeks, and much of the time my brain has been in a fog.
My eyes land on the bag at the far end of the slender closet. It’s a burlap sack, one I’ve seen tightly tied since I moved in here. It suddenly occurs to me that it could be a laundry bag, and I wonder if he’s put any of my clothes in there.
I sit on my butt and pull the bag onto my lap. I work the tie, which is almost impossible to open. But after a few minutes, I pull it loose. I open the bag and start to sift through it, emptying various clothes items onto the floor one by one.
My hand closes over a shoe. A stiletto heel. Frowning, I pull it from the bag. And immediately recognize it as part of a pair I wore in Vegas.
The ones I wore the night I had my date with Rusty.
The ones I left in his room.
Only now, the shoe has spots of blood caked on the front of it.
Is
it mine? I stare at the shoe, study it to be sure. It’s size eight, my size. I flip it over, and now I feel a chill. The initials SP are on the bottom of the shoe, written in black marker. When I worked at the club, because other girls would often borrow or steal another dancer’s shoes, I took to marking my initials on mine.
The chill slithers down my spine as I hold the shoe. My mind scrambles to make sense of how it could be in Reed’s room.
And then the truth hits me like a ton of bricks.
If Reed has
this
shoe—
“Samera.”
I scream at the sound of my name. Then I whirl around, my heart beating so fast I’m sure my chest will be bruised.
Reed is standing at the doorway to the walk-in closet, staring at me.
“Jesus, Reed.” I breathe out heavily. “You scared the shit out of me.”
He doesn’t say anything. His eyes volley from my face to the bag.
Shit. I’m on the floor, the contents of the bag beside me, my lost shoe in my hands. I can’t explain away this situation.
But more important, neither can Reed.
“Samera, Samera, Samera.” Reed puts one foot in front of the other, slowly but surely, until he reaches me. For the life of me, I can’t move. I just sit on the floor stupidly.
“You—” I swallow. My throat is suddenly dry. “You found…my shoe…”
Reed lowers himself onto his haunches in front of me. Stares at me. His hard, cold eyes freak me out. “Well, this is an interesting situation, isn’t it?”
“Um…” What do I say, what do I say?
“You know why I did it, don’t you?”
My stomach lurches.
“Don’t you?” Reed prompts.
“I—What do you mean?” Lame!
Reed smiles, but there’s no warmth in it. “I know you’re not stupid. You know where I found that shoe.”
“I, um, I…” Damn it, I can’t form a coherent sentence.
But, God help me, my brain is working, and it starts to connect the dots. The notes. The
head
in my apartment. All that fake blood…
Reed freaking out at the airport, worried that they were going to go through
his
luggage…
“It’s not just the shoe, is it?” I finally ask. “The notes. The one on my car, the one in my mailbox. And my God, Reed, that elaborate scene with the severed head in my apartment.”
I get nothing from Reed—except that cold smile.
“Say something. Tell me I’m wrong, you fucking son of a bitch!” The realization of his deception changes something within me. I no longer feel like I’ve been caught snooping. Anger rises in me.
“I would have thrown the shoe out, but it was security.”
“Against what?”
“Against you leaving!”
I stare at Reed in disbelief. “That’s what this is about? You didn’t want me to leave you?”
“I wanted to punish you!” Reed yells. “Show you what happens when you decide to act like a friggin’ whore!”
“
Whore?
You run a strip club, sleep with half the dancers, and you tell
me
I’m acting like a whore?”
Reed grips me by my shoulders, his fingers pressing into my skin. “You could have gotten killed. Or have you forgotten already? For God’s sake, I found you disoriented in the lobby of the fucking Venetian. You didn’t know if you were coming or going. And why?” He squeezes my cheeks like an adult scolding a child. “Because you were in some stranger’s room, sucking his cock, instead of here with me, the guy who loves you.”
I jerk my face away from his fingers and position myself on my knees. “Love? This isn’t love. Trying to scare the shit out of me? That’s deranged.”
I just say the words, don’t think about them, and the moment I do I see I’ve made a mistake. In Reed’s eyes I see his wrath before his hand slaps me across the face.
“No one loves you like I do.
No one
.”
Though the slap hurt like hell, I will not let it show. I will not give Reed the benefit of seeing me cry.
“You’re an asshole,” I spit out as I get to my feet. “You don’t know what love is.”
The moment I’m standing, Reed slams my body against the closet wall. I cry out in pain.
“You think you’re going to dump me?” Reed asks. “After everything I’ve done for you?”
I swallow. I’m not sure what to say, but I decide to go for honesty. “Reed, if you loved me so much, you never would have fucked someone else.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“And my going to Costa Rica? Didn’t that prove that I love you?”
“That was because you couldn’t have me,” I tell him, and not until then do I realize that all along, this is what I’ve believed. That it was his ego that had him getting on a plane, not his heartfelt realization that he had screwed up the best thing to ever happen to him.
“Fuck, Samera. I’ve never known you to be so…so goddamn emotional. I messed up. It happens. It was just pussy. Not about love or caring. What do I have to do to get you to see that you’re the one who means everything to me?”
Reed’s anger seems to have ebbed away. I’m not frightened of his wrath anymore. “Reed,” I say, then sigh. “Look, we had something good for a while. But it’s over. It just is.”
Reed releases me and heads out of the closet. After a moment, I follow him.
Thank God, it seems like the fight is over. It finally seems to have clicked in Reed’s brain that our relationship has run its course.
I open my mouth to tell him that I hope we can be friends, but the stark realization of what Reed has done hits me as if for the first time.
Rusty.
Murdered
.
But how did Reed get into Rusty’s room, unless he’d been spying on us that night. Suddenly I remember feeling as though someone
was
watching me.
And if he killed Rusty, what will he do to me?
It’s as though Reed has read my thoughts, because with his back to me he says quietly, “You know why I did it, why I killed him?”
A tear makes its way down my cheek. Hearing Reed admit what he’s done—it’s overwhelming.
“But I don’t understand. You were with me that night. How?”
Reed turns and faces me. “You’d had so much to drink, by the time I brought you back to my hotel room, you passed out.”
I don’t doubt it. But I still don’t understand how Reed knew where to go, how to find Rusty.
“I still don’t get it. How on earth would you have found Rusty?”
“That was a bit of luck, I guess,” Reed says. “I was in the club at Bellagio the night you came in with him. I saw you right away, and I could tell you were already drunk. You didn’t see me. You were so…wrapped up in that guy. But when he went to the bar to get some glasses, I followed him. Chatted to him for a bit. Found out all I needed to know right there.”
Oh, God. Reed had been there. Watching me that whole time.
“He told me he was in the restaurant business,” Reed continues. “So, I just had to tell him that I own a winery and would love to talk to him about business. He was excited about the idea—but not that night, since he was out with this really hot babe. I told him I could call him the next day and the dumb ass gave me his room number.” Reed laughs. “As simple as taking candy from a baby.”
I swallow. Hard.
“After that,” Reed goes on, “once I found you in the lobby and put you to bed, I knew I could go back to pay Rusty a visit and you’d never be the wiser.”
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply.
“I did it for you,” Reed says. “If you were gonna fuck that guy, I could deal with it. But when I saw you in the lobby, all scared and out of your mind…I never would have hurt him if not for that. I did it for you, babe.”
“Please, don’t say that.”
He marches toward me, anger flaring in his eyes. He grabs my arms, squeezes hard. “You don’t think I love you, but I killed that fucking pig for you. If I didn’t love you…Wait a minute. Are you crying over that piece of shit?”
I sob softly. I can’t stop.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare look at me like that after what I did for you. He and his friend wanted to gang rape you!” Spittle flies from Reed’s mouth as he yells. “I should have killed both of them!”
“How can you say that? You, you slit a man’s throat! And why—because I fucked him. Because I was stupid. And then you—you sent those letters, not just to me, but my sister, her friends.” Every breath is a struggle now. I’m wheezing as I speak. “And the head—”
Reed clamps his hand over my mouth. “Stop that, Sam. Stop fucking freaking out.”
Until you’re trapped in a room with a madman you know is going to kill you, you don’t know what it’s like to feel stark terror swallow you whole. Because despite Reed’s anger and jealousy, never before today would I have thought him dangerous enough to slit a man’s throat and push him out of a hotel window.
For me.
My God. Reed is going to kill me.
I try to force the tears to stop, but I can’t. I can’t do anything but cry and gasp at the sickness I feel inside me.
“Stop fucking crying!” Reed heaves me forward and throws me to the ground. “You better stop crying, or I’m gonna think you’re
real
ungrateful.”
I snivel. Wipe my tears. “Reed, you
murdered
him.”
“I know what the fuck I did and I know why.”