Unbound: The Pentagon Group, Book 2 (4 page)

I cried myself to sleep, but was later awakened by the sound of my phone ringing. I looked at the face of my phone to see it was Chelsea.

“Hey.” I answered groggily.

“Were you sleeping?”

“Yeah, I’ve been sleeping all day. And now I’m going for round two. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re still okay. Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m exhausted and I’m trying to work through this.”

“He called me again.” She said meekly.

“I’m sorry Chelz. I wish he wouldn’t involve you in our issues. Ignore him. I’ve blocked him on my phone. I suggest you do the same.”

“Perla, I just don’t know if you should run away without trying to figure out this whole thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I figured out what he did to me. He didn’t deny it. He may not have known every detail, but he was involved and I can’t be with a man who deceived me. I can’t trust anything was real.” I said evenly, but with a hint of agitation.

“I feel it’s real. Ben never once called me to check on you, and we grew up together. I just feel this is different.” Chelsea revealed.

“Are you taking his side? Do you not recognize how I’ve been mistreated? I was used and my dear friend was hurt. And I can’t fix it with her because she shouldn’t worry about this while she’s dying. She’ll die not knowing she lost her Inn because I opened my legs to a very deceitful, albeit gorgeous, doctor. She had no children. She had her husband, and to a very small degree, she had me—and I turned against her. I had no choice. And the fucked up thing, I handed over every bit of ammunition he needed to get the building. It all came down to the money. It came down to him and his friends tramping over people’s feelings and needs to get a ‘pay off’. I’m lying down on my bed one hundred thousand dollars poorer, while he is over a billion dollars richer. He and his friends are billionaires. He doesn’t have to worry about paying rent and eating. I live in a studio apartment I can barely walk in without stubbing a body part. He lives in a million dollar high rise apartment and owns three more places and luxury cars. And he used me to get more? It doesn’t make sense. I’m hurt. No, I’m destroyed. I thought a man really wanted me for me, desired me for me, and I felt I finally had a potential life partner. It was all a fucking lie.” I sobbed.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to argue with you. You come first. I just want you to know I’m so sad for both of you. Do you want to come over this weekend? I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t know if I’m up to company, but I’ll let you know. It’s harder this time. Last night, I thought I was stronger, but just before you called, I was on the verge of passing out. I think it was a panic attack. It used to happen when my mom was sick and I felt overwhelmed. Remember?” I reminded her.

“I think you should go to the doctor. Doesn’t sound so good.”

“Yeah, right. Me go to a doctor. With my luck, I’ll meet another hot doctor and he’ll use me for a free gym membership. Chelz, I need sleep. I’m gonna go to bed. Please ignore his calls and texts. Be on my side, please.”

“I’m always on your side. Good night, sweetie.”

“Night, lovey.” I hung up.

I hung up the cell and tossed it back on the night stand. Because of my penchant for romance books, I had nothing to read which would help me keep my mind off of Matt. It would’ve been a better idea to stay with Carson. We could’ve watched a movie. He would’ve fed me. I could’ve taken a bath in his luxurious tub instead of the quick shower I have to take in my hovel.

The phone rang, which startled me out of my sad thoughts, I grabbed the phone and realized I didn’t recognize the number. I let it go to voicemail and then listened to the message. It was Eric. ‘How did he get my number?’ I wondered. He was the second to last person I wanted to talk to. I didn’t want to shoot the messenger, but in my present state, what I didn’t know didn’t hurt me. He ruined my delusion of being in a happy, loving relationship.

Carson posed very good questions about Eric’s payoff for telling me about Pentagon. Eric did come onto me pretty heavily in the beginning. There were a couple of uncomfortable moments when he’d approach me and get in my physical space. Dashing saw it once and we’d had a pretty spirited discussion about it. I was thrown by the way Matt took me in an act of jealousy because I’d never been aggressively pursued before.

The fates were against me, sending me two handsome men with strong interests in having a relationship with me. With the truth revealed, Matt didn’t pursue me for a relationship. I was used for financial gain. And logically speaking it meant Eric wanted to use me too, but for what? He was very flirtatious and created any opportunity to get physically close. I was flattered. Honestly, I was intrigued, and under other circumstances, I would’ve been more receptive. Who wouldn’t want a young, gorgeous man to pursue them? My faithful nature would never allow another man to disrupt the relationship I was in, even if the relationship wasn’t defined.

Matt and I only had a sexual relationship. It was monogamous, but we’d never sat down and said we were exclusive partners. I assumed actions spoke louder than words: we spent every single free time together; I spent nights at his apartment; I kept clothes and toiletries over at his place; We held each other out as boyfriend and girlfriend; and we said “I love you” to each other. I was honest with Eric, but he didn’t seem deterred. Carson made me aware something was off with Eric’s disclosure. Analyzing more about the situation, wouldn’t Eric have to keep all the contents of Pentagon’s digital or electronic information confidential? Why breach it to tell me?

Deciding to keep Eric at a skyscraper’s length distance, I needed to sort out my feelings. I didn’t want a charming, handsome man to confuse me and use me when I was at my most vulnerable. I heard a beep for a text. I inhaled and pressed to retrieve the message.

Eric: Hi, Perla. I’m checking in to see if you’re okay. You didn’t show to work. Saw a big bouquet of flowers at the service desk which never happened before, so I’m assuming you and Matt discussed the information I gave you and the flowers were a peace offering? If I hurt you in any way, I’m sorry. I only wanted to keep you safe. I’m your friend. Call me when you’re able to talk.

‘Not likely, buddy.’ I placed the phone on the night stand, and lay down to sleep. I prayed tomorrow would give me a better day. I didn’t want to continue mourning over Matt for any longer than necessary. I was so tired my eyelids couldn’t be pried open even if I wanted them to. I was emotionally and physically spent, sleeping until the middle of the night when I needed to use the bathroom. I crept back to bed and snuggled in until the bustle of the morning traffic and pedestrians woke me up.

*****

I dreamt of my mother. In the dream, she and I were getting ready to go out on Easter Sunday. I was about four-years-old. She’d bought me a lovely little spring trench coat with flowers at the waist. My most favorite thing was the white pantyhose and white patent leather shoes. My dress was yellow with a flouncy skirt. Everything was tight because I was a round preschooler, but my mother snuggled and kissed every plump inch of my body. She loved all my beauty and all my seemingly unsightly bits. My mother never let my hair down because it was always too big, curly and wild, but for the occasion she set and curled my hair until it was long, wavy and cascaded over my shoulders and back. Despite loving my hair loose and flowing, I put on an Easter hat with small flowers on the brim.

My mother dressed in a long white dress with long sleeves. She wore opaque pantyhose to keep her shapely legs demurely covered. Her shoes were sensible, white leather, and low heeled. She pulled out a white trench coat from the closet. She told me she had a surprise for me. I jumped up with glee. She pulled out a white patent leather purse with a gold handle and gold snap for the flap. My mother loved sharing her purses with me, and I finally had one of my own. I beamed and hugged the glossy material and turned and closed the buckle on the flap. We walked out the front door hand in hand.

It wasn’t necessarily a memory. It was a subconscious message being delivered. I needed to not let this stop me from living. I needed to be like the little girl; happy to go out into the world with my mother’s spirit beside me, lifting me up. I shouldn’t bend to the control Matt, or any man for that matter, had over me.

When I awoke, I resolved to get out of bed and shake off the depression invading my spirit. I took a long shower, conditioning my hair while I shaved and trimmed everything on my body. I plucked the stray hairs from my eyebrows. I put on the radio while I did a clay mask as the deep conditioner saturated my long curls, changing the radio station when stupid love songs came on. Preferring to listen to high energy dance music, I wasn’t strong enough to listen to love lost and regrets. I planned to ‘fake it till I make it’.

Once I finished my bathroom routine, I moisturized every inch of my body. After towel drying my hair, I doused my curls with hair products to keep it frizz free and fabulous for my outing. As my hair dried naturally, I put on waterproof mascara and tinted lip gloss because the heat of the day would melt any makeup.

I pulled out a blue romper with a flowing bottom. It looked like a halter dress, but covered my curves. The swinging shorts, much like a skirt, hit above the knees. I slipped on flat, strappy sandals. Spritzing sweet perfume, reminded me of my mom. I hardly used it because I’d get sad, but I was happy to smell like her. Not immensely happy, but ‘okay’ and encouraged life would get better. I inserted my gold hooped earrings and a few gold bangles I’d inherited from her. The memory of hearing the jingle of bangles made me laugh instead of the usual tears which welled in my eyes. When she danced, you could hear the jingling and clanging of her bangles as she shimmied and shook her body to the beat of the music.

Despite being heartbroken over the depressing end of my love affair, I looked at myself in the full length mirror and admired how pretty I looked. I smiled at myself, smirked and uttered, “Fuck you, Matt.” I guess I’d quickly moved to the ‘angry’ phase of ‘break up’ grief. I grabbed a shawl in case I got cold. Even though it was hot and humid in Boston, the air conditioning in some buildings created a mini tundra. I put all my things in a tote. I grabbed my sunglasses and put them over my head. My keys were on the hook beside the door and I grabbed them to lock up. I bounded down the steps to the entry of the building.

When I opened the door, I found another bouquet of flowers. I sighed in exasperation. My name was on the card. I pulled out the note and ripped it up and shoved it in an interior pocket of my tote. The flowers from yesterday were no longer there, so I decided to do the same with the new bouquet. I didn’t care if he’d spent a lot of money on these deliveries, it was an infinitesimal consolation.

With my sunglasses shielding my eyes, I walked off the steps toward the bus stop. I heard a car honk, but ignored it and walked without pausing. The honk happened again, and I was a bit creeped out by it. I didn’t turn to look to see if the honk was intended for me. When you’re a single woman, you have to be vigilant and defensive when walking around alone in the city. I wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction by looking, and usually it was a ‘him’. When I heard my name called by a familiar voice, I panicked. I was too far to go back home and I couldn’t duck anywhere to evade him. It was too soon for him to come see me. ‘Why couldn’t he leave me alone?’ I thought as I walked faster.

“Perla!” Matt yelled from inside his convertible car. He drove his Mercedes with the top down.

I stopped at the intersection to look before crossing the street. His car approached and stopped at the stop sign, double parking. As he opened his door, my heart beat furiously and skipped a beat at seeing how handsome he looked with his long, wavy hair flowing in the wind. His eyes shielded by polarized sunglasses, and his muscles rippled under the arm bands of his tight t-shirt. His worn jeans hugged him in all the right places. I looked down to his feet and saw he wore leather driving shoes without socks. He jogged over to where I stood at the corner. He appeared cautious in his approach. The frown I sported kept him on high alert.

“Hi.” He whispered.

I grimaced, “What do you want, Matt?” I crossed my arms in front of my body, holding him away from my personal space. Thankfully, he couldn’t see the tears stinging my eyes from behind my dark lenses.

“I have to know how you’re doing. You ignored my texts. You blocked me from your number. You didn’t go to work yesterday. Chelsea told me I needed to back off both of you, but . . . I can’t. I can’t walk away from us.” His voice was hoarse. He took a step forward, while I recoiled back. He frowned at my reaction and put his arms behind his back, tucking his hands in his back pockets; no doubt trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch me.

I inhaled deeply and looked at my surroundings to see if I could make a quick getaway. I still had a long walk to the bus stop. My plan was to have a good day, and the contact with Matt wasn’t part of my plan. I should’ve known he would come here and try to talk to me.

“I can't be with you after everything that’s happened. I don’t see a reason for us to talk. It’s better for you to leave me alone. Move on. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I turned, but he lunged to stop me from moving away from him, one hand on my hip and the other on my arm. I yelped, partly from surprise and the other from the aching need to feel his touch. 

He must’ve thought I was scared. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Perla. I wouldn’t dare hurt you.”