Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
“Suits me, perfect. Much rather be a sweetheart than a face-buster anyway. Everybody knows I hate when they make me go old school. Thanks, bud. We should grab a drink soon.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “Busy in two Saturdays?”
“Not so far.”
“Come to the Numbers grand opening. We pushed up the opening night so hadn’t gotten any invites out. You interested?”
“Of course.”
“Great. It’s black tie. I’ll have Alana give Lou a VIP package for you. Bring Janine.”
“Will do. Ciao, Kill. Thanks, man.”
“Ciao, Henny. Owe you.”
“Naw, man. We’re square. A) I don’t hafta deal with Iadanza and B) Was hopin’ for an invite to that opening.”
“My pleasure. You would have got one anyway.”
“Nice, man. Cool. You piqued my interest about your business with Iadanza, but clearly you don’t wanna say.”
I chuckle.
“All right, man. No hints, I see. See you there.”
“See you there,” I return without inflection.
“Eesh,” he adds as he hangs up, laughing.
Of course he wants the skinny, but he knows enough not to push.
I message Alana with instructions to pay Henny’s man Lou from petty cash and to invoice me for it with the code ‘advance’.
She replies that she will but then sends another text to remind me I’m my accountant’s worst nightmare.
I smirk, but don’t bother replying.
Instead, I then lean back and stare out the window, considering my next moves.
7
Violet
I’m home after working a few hours late, worried about going home and relieved to see my parking spot empty. I haven’t heard from him all day, but don’t feel relief at the notion of coming home to an empty apartment, because the unknown is daunting. I’m sure he’ll be back eventually and dreading the inevitable feels like the story of my life right now.
***
Ray crawls into bed with me just before dawn and gathers me close, crying himself to sleep, dripping tears onto the back of my neck.
I stare into the dark, feeling numb as this happens.
“I love you, Violet. I’m sorry I’m such a fuck-up. I’m not giving up on us. I’m not giving up on being a man who can give you everything.”
I say nothing. There’s nothing to say. I’ve heard this before, too.
I pretend to sleep through it, and lay still until my alarm goes off.
He’s snoring when I slip out of bed and as quietly as I can, get the heck out of there to go to work.
All day, I’m like a zombie. I need out. I need him out. Something.
I’m unable to shake the feeling of impending doom. And honestly, it’s been creeping up on me for months, but now it’s just not going away.
I hate it. I have to do something.
***
Again my parking spot is empty, and the apartment is quiet and dark when I get in after work and just as I feel a small measure of relief wash over me that he isn’t here, the lamp turns on. I see Ray from the corner of my eye.
I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Shh.” He puts his index finger to his lips and moves quickly to the door.
He moves so quickly I jerk back against the wall defensively. He drags the chain across, grabs my hand and pulls me into the bedroom.
The light is on, but the curtains are closed, the comforter hangs over the curtain rod. This is why I couldn’t see light when I looked up from the parking lot. The bed is unmade, the little TV on but on mute, and beer cans litter the dresser and nightstand, one of them on its side with a dark spot on the carpet where it spilled.
“Anybody out front? In the elevator or halls? Anybody talk to you or seem out of place?” he asks with both urgency and a slur in his voice.
“No.”
Where’s my car? I’m afraid to ask.
“Shit. You wouldn’t even know what to look for if you were bein’ tailed. You talk to your parents yet?”
I jolt with a double-take.
“I told you I needed fuckin’ help, Violet,” he says, loud.
“My parents won’t lend me money. I’ve had only a handful of conversations with them in months and…”
“And that’s my fault?” he whisper-shouts and then seems to think twice and presses his hand down in midair as if telling himself to calm down. A vein bulges in his forehead.
I hear a loud knock at the door. It’s assertive, the way a cop knocks. I turn to head in that direction, but Ray grabs my arm, roughly, halting me.
He shakes his head and puts the pad of his index finger to my mouth to shush me before pulling us to sit at the edge of the bed. He wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my neck. He’s shaking. He’s really scared.
He’s trembling so hard it’s making my body vibrate.
And I’m numb about the fact that this is really my life somehow. Is there a debt collector at my door, ready to do bodily harm? I work hard. I’ve always done my best to be a good person. I don’t do anything illegal ever. I don’t even do that grey area stuff that every day average people get away with like watching pirated movies. I pay my way. Always. I was raised that way and I’ve always believed it’s the right way to live. I paid his way, too, because I used to love him. I tried to support him and be there through rough times, through screw ups, because that’s what you do when you love someone. But, when it’s all take and no give and when that person breaks you down through shouting, belittling, through extreme mood swings, lately most of them lows instead of highs?