If he won, it’d clear up his debt with Henny. Guys like that always think they’ll win. They think they’re one bet away from their luck changing. And on the rare occasion it does, they usually don’t know when to stop.
If he doesn’t bite, I’ll just have to tempt him a second time. I live in a world of temptations – temptations that don’t appeal to me because I see what they do to weaker men.
I know how guys like Raymond Iadanza think and I know I can easily use his demons to take him down enough that it’ll give that poor girl a chance to get him gone from her life.
5
Violet
I get home from work late and Ray is nowhere to be seen. I breathe a sigh of relief once I know I’m home alone.
This is what I want. To be alone. Solitude. Freedom from him. Freedom from the bile that rises in my throat at the sound of his keys jingling at the door, at the sound of his jeans and belt hitting the floor beside the bed at night. I want to be free of that so badly, I can almost taste it.
Yeah, I wanna taste it on my tongue but to do that, I need to find a way to make it reality, and I feel cowardly that I haven’t found a way yet.
This is part of the problem – even when alone, I’m judging myself for all the things I’m not doing.
I warm up some homemade soup I defrosted and toast a bagel to have with it since that leftover stew is gone, the dishes in the sink. My stew wasn’t good enough for him when Killian was here, but it suited him just fine today. I roll my eyes at that.
I take a hot bath, and then I climb into bed with the remote control. After a few hours of mindless television, I flick the lamp off.
And then I stare up into the darkness and a reel of Killian Coulter plays in my mind. It starts with the night I first saw him three years ago, and this time it’s just him I see, not him with Ray.
And then I feel what I felt last night… his embrace. I can even smell his scent. I picture his smile. I see myself and him looking at me with that smile as he serves me dinner at the table. I remember the feel of his hand at the small of my back, feeling like a hot brand on my skin even hours after I got to work. The way he looked at Ray when Ray was being – well – Ray.
I bite my thumb, thinking about how exciting it is to be smitten with someone. Those early days of dating… how beautiful it is to feel butterflies and excitement over getting to see somebody you can’t stop thinking about. Those first kisses … how they make your lips tingle for hours afterwards. How hearing their voice on the phone feels toasty inside. How good eye contact feels.
I imagine his mouth on me. His hands on me. My hand slips under the blanket and moves down until I find my way under my nightie and slide my right hand into my panties. Just as my middle and ring fingers connect with my swelling clit, I hear the door. Ray is back.
I yank my hand out and flip over onto my side, closing my eyes and biting my cheek.
Who am I kidding with these ridiculous fantasies?
If I dig my way out of this situation I’ll need a long time before I start dating again. Killian Coulter is out of my league, too. I have a lot of work to do to get my sense of self back before I can even think about dating anybody. A rich guy who dates models is nowhere near within reach for me. And really, I just want to be alone. I just want to stop being shouted at. I just want to stop feeling like I do.
I want peace.
Not long later, I’m still on my side, in the fetal position, staring off into the dark and stewing in the too-familiar ugly feeling in my belly until the bedroom door creaks open, a sliver of light slicing across me. My eyes scream as he flicks the light on. I squeeze them shut.
“Vi?”
The bed sinks near my hips as he sits.
“Violet?”
I open my eyes halfway, seeing him hover over me. I shield them. Old me would’ve given him shit for the blinding light.
“I need the title for the car.”
“Huh?”
“Need all the paperwork. Got an opportunity and I just got to –”
“The car isn’t paid off. I have four more payments to make.”
My heartbeat is picking up pace.
“Gimme the paperwork, Vi.”
“But it’s not paid off yet, Ray.”
“I have an opportunity and-”
“A car has to be paid off to get one of those loans.”
Not only that, I don’t want to get one of those loans. I don’t need my car getting repossessed right when I’ve finally paid it off.
“Fuck! How do you not have that paid off yet?” he snaps.
He reeks of booze.
I rear back deeper into my pillow. “What’s going on?”
Typical for him to blame me that the calendar isn’t where he wants it to be. Everything wrong in Ray’s life – somehow my fault.
He stands, thrusting his hands through his blond hair. He looks furious, or maybe freaked.
My eyes are still adjusting, but I squint at him, waiting, trying to assess what’s what.
He’s a mess. Definitely freaked out.
Those calls last night, him staring out the window looking paranoid – is someone after him for money? Did he borrow money? Gamble? What?
“I need money, Vi. I have this opportunity and it’s not gonna last longer than 24 hours. I saw this billboard for online instant approval loans.”
“The car has to be –”
“Paid off. Yeah, I fuckin’ heard ya.” He storms out of the room, slamming the door, leaving the light on.
I get out of bed and turn the light back out. But it won’t be over this easily; I know better.
I’m proven right ten seconds later. He’s back, flicking the light on again.
“You need to ask for an advance at work, Vi. Tell ‘em it’s an emergency. We need seven or eight k. Before you leave the office tomorrow.”
“I can’t get an advance like that, Ray. I can’t get any advances. They cut me off after the last one.”
“You work your ass off for that fuckin’ place and they won’t help you when you’ve got an emergency?”
“What’s my emergency?”
By the time I realize how much venom is in my voice, it’s too late to take it back. He lunges at me, fist pulled back ready to strike.
I don’t even flinch. I’m waiting for it. I wouldn’t say I want it, but it’s almost like… here it is. I knew this day was coming. It was inevitable.
I stare at him. Directly into his eyes.
He flexes his fingers and then his arm drops. He doesn’t strike, instead he drops his head into my legs and lets out a big, broken sigh.
I don’t move. I stay there with his head in my lap, ugliness slithering through my veins.
Here we go. Here we go again. A-fucking-gain.
“Shit got fucked up,” his muffled voice tells me. “If I don’t have six thousand dollars by dinner time tomorrow, babe, the people I owe to – they’ll break something. My leg. Jaw. Dunno. And then if I still don’t come up with it… I don’t fuckin’ know what’ll happen to me. Well, I do know, but I don’t think you need me to say. If I have seven or eight k, I can pay it back and use the other grand or two to get us ahead.”
This happened once before, just over a year ago. It was almost exactly the same. Him in a panic and me being stupid enough to ask what I could do. Him putting his head in my lap. Me putting my hands in his hair and rubbing his head while he told me that he fucked up. He cleaned me out that time when I cashed out my company stock and handed thirty-five hundred over to him to get him out of trouble with a gambling debt. He promised he was done and that he’d get help by joining a gambling support group.