Chapter 3
I don't think I've ever seen a gun in person. Yet after twenty-one years of being alive, I had one pointed at me last night. Being ruthlessly killed by a person with a gun has always been a fear of mine. Though, it's what attending public school in America does to some. It's one of the few reasons why I've switched my college in-person courses to online courses for my final semester. I thought I'd be safer.
I haven't slept. Though, how could I after being threatened and terrorized?
I was sent home from Zac's bar after I broke not one, but two bottles of expensive hard liquor. My manager noticed I was off and shaken up the moment I had arrived breathlessly and puffy-eyed. He asked if I was alright and I think I might've lied and said I was fine.
I took an uber I couldn't afford home. It left me in deficit, but I thought I simply couldn't risk any more danger that late at night.
The fact that he knows where I live because of August is another reason why I chose not to sleep. Guilt kept me up just as much.
I don't know what the boy looked like. I don't know his age or his race. I just know he was young. He couldn't be older than seventeen, I convinced myself. His voice still had an adolescent tone to it. I couldn't get his cry for help out of my head. I'm horrified with myself to think I ran away and left him there to fend for himself when he could barely talk.
I'm a horrible person.
The jiggle of a doorknob arises a heart-dropping feeling in me. With a hand over my chest, I turn from where I sit on the couch only to see August walking in.
"Hey," she greets with a walk of shame. She stops to kick off her heels. She didn't come home last night. "Whatever you're going to say... save it."
I furrow my eyebrows together. "I called you," I tell her because I did. Several damn times with my new severely cracked phone just to make sure if she was alright.
"My phone died," she answers and she leaves her heels by the door.
"Where were you?" I ask, leaning back against our couch. I cover myself up with a throw blanket I crocheted myself.
She enters the kitchen and opens the fridge. When she bends, she unintentionally flashes me her ass cheeks in the minidress she wears. I quickly look away. She then answers, "I was with Harry. You know, the hot body piercer from the tattoo parlor."
It felt like my soul left my body the moment she said his name. Images of his green eyes and gun flooded through me again. I suck in a breath from the sharp pain in my chest. The fact that she was with Harry, possibly after he threatened he would kill her and then kill me made me physically ill. I get up from the couch after my cheeks tingled.
Suddenly, I'm in the bathroom and kneeled by the damn toilet.
"Woah! Babe, what happened?" I hear August step into the bathroom behind me. As I'm coughing my fucking lungs out, she's reaching for my dark hair to hold back. "Oh, my... You're fucking pregnant, aren't you?"
At this moment in time, I wish. I'd rather be a disappointment to my parents than potentially murdered.
I'm done vomiting little of what I've forced myself to eat. I reach for toilet paper to wipe my mouth then I flush the toilet. "No," I tell her softly. I just got queasy over the fact that you're sleeping with Ted Bundy.
"Oh, right... Matt doesn't fuck you."
She has a smirk on her face, but I don't find what she said funny at all. My cheeks feel as if they are on fire. I might've made the mistake of telling her Matt and I haven't had sex in over three months. I don't need to be reminded. "August-"
"Maybe you should fuck Harry."
I can't do this. I get up from the bathroom floor and stand in front of the sink. I turn on the facet after grabbing my toothbrush with shaky fingers. I ignore what she disgustingly suggests.
"Joelle, his tongue! My god, that man is amazing. Wait until you see his-"
"August, no!" I say through an overly aggressive brushing of my teeth. I spit my toothpaste out.
She giggles, finding pleasure in my uncomfortableness. I return to brushing my teeth as she slides her hands up my arms. "Jojo, I'm just teasing," she tells me. Her fingers then rake through my mid-length hair as she stands behind me. "You deserve better than my leftovers. You can have the hot tattoo artist, Zayn."
After rinsing my mouth clean, I turn the facet off and look at her through the mirror. That's just how she is as a person, I defend to myself. August likes to tease. She's comfortable with her sexuality and she isn't afraid to say what she feels. Sometimes, it's a little too much though.
"Jo, in all seriousness, you okay? It looks like you haven't slept."
I haven't.
August rests her chin on my shoulder when she meets my eyes through our reflection. She's hugging me from behind. "Listen, about what happened at the tattoo shop... I was out of line."
You think?
"I got excited, I think. So when you backed out, I grew a little disappointed. I ditched you for Harry just to spite you and that wasn't fucking cool. Best friends don't do that! You're my best friend, Jo. I love you. I guess I'm asking you to forgive me."
I sigh. "I love you, too, August." I turn around to look at my friend who's my complete opposite. I met her my freshman year of college and now we're seniors. We've been inseparable ever since. We live together and she is my best friend, after all. Though, something is still weighing heavy on me. Harry. "Yeah, I forgive you... but-"
"But what, babe?"
I can't tell her. If I warn her that Harry is a very dangerous man and to stay away from him, I'm afraid she will laugh in my face. My gut tells me Harry only slept with her last night as a way to warn me. I'm worried because I know how August gets when she sleeps with somebody new. Especially more than once. Right now, to August, she might see Harry as a God.
As long as I don't say anything, maybe it will all go away. Maybe Harry will leave me alone and forget all about me tomorrow when he isn't caught by the police. I swallow before saying, "Nothing, sorry... Hey, don't you have class today?"
"Oh, shit!" August steps out of the bathroom. "Why the hell did I choose a nine-thirty class?!"
I watch as she rushes into her bedroom that's right across from mine. She makes me break into a small smile. Morning classes have never been August's thing. "You tell me," I say softly when I follow her and stand at the doorway of her bedroom. I hug myself as August searches the pile of clothes on her floor for an outfit. "I suggested online classes but you said-"
"Online classes are for losers, bitch!"
"That's what you said." I nod and turn to the side. I give August her privacy by staring at the wall as she whips off her dress. "But I like it so far. I get stuff done on my own time."
She then gasps. "Wait, your internship! What was Fine Line Designs like? Have you stolen clothes yet?" August steps out of her bedroom in gray sweatpants and a cropped t-shirt. She heads into our shared bathroom again, carrying her makeup bag.
"August, I'm not going to steal clothes," I tell her with a small laugh. She's already playfully insisted that I steal only because clothes from the FLD collection are way too pricey for us. "It went well. I didn't get to meet Marjorie Horan, though. Her son, Niall, mentored me and the other three interns."
After washing her face clean and drying it off, August is now applying foundation onto her skin with a brush. "Her son? Is he hot?"
"He's attractive, yeah." I can't deny, I liked the way he carried himself. Even though Niall doesn't seem like the type to befriend an intern, I'm making it my mission to get on his good side. I'm going to be the best goddamn intern he has ever seen, I'm determined.
If Harry doesn't kill me first.
I clear my throat and shake out the thought that wants to ruin my day. I can't let it.
"Nice. When do you go in again?"
"Tomorrow. It's only two times out of the week," I inform her.
August hums as she focuses on filling in her already thick and gorgeous brows with makeup. "Right," she mumbles and I don't think she's listening anymore. She smiles at herself in the mirror. Then she picks up her liquid eyeliner. "I never thought eyeliner on a guy would be so fucking hot."
She's referring to Harry, I think. But I didn't take notice of him wearing eyeliner when his hand was wrapped around my throat.
Harry is dangerous and I don't want August around him.
"Did you just get the chills?" August laughs when she noticed the way I trembled.
"Yeah, I'm just cold," I lie. I'm fucking terrified.
___
When August left for class on campus, I didn't want to be home alone. I packed my laptop into my tote bag and I carried my textbook out the door. I had online coursework to catch up on since I didn't get anything done the day before.
Paranoia seeped in as I waited for the bus. Even in broad daylight, I worried I was being watched or followed by one specific man in particular. To my luck, I made it safely to where I wanted to be.
I got to Matt's apartment after he texted me that it was okay to come over. After he buzzed me into his gated building, I pass the water fountain in the center of the nicely maintained landscape. I then get to the stairs at the very end of the rows of the same jade green colored doors. I reach the second floor then I get to his apartment.
I knock.
"It's open!"
I hear his voice from his open window. I reach for the golden doorknob then I step inside. I expected to be greeted by his mother or teenage sister, but then I remember it's a weekday. His single mother is working and his sister is at school. I make my way to Matt's bedroom.
I'm still mad at him, but I just can't be alone right now.
"Hey," I greet him as he sits on the same stupid gaming chair. I lay my tote bag and textbook on his unmade bed.
"Hi, babe. What's up?"
He doesn't even stop to look at me. His thumbs work the controller he holds as his eyes are locked on his computer screen. It's what he does all day. Though, according to his mother, it isn't my place to remind Matt he has a degree in business and that he should put it to use.
"Can you pause your game?" I ask and I'm starting to believe what I'm asking is a long shot.
"Yeah, in a minute."
I sigh as a patiently wait for him to turn around and look at me. I want to be held. No, I want to be touched. August just had to remind me that my boyfriend hasn't made a move in so long.
It's been more than a minute and Matt still hasn't turned around. I dressed up intending to have sex today. I no longer wanted to sit and think of the scary green-eyed man with a gun. I craved to forget, even if it meant it wouldn't last long. Matt used to be crazy for me. The first year of our relationship was filled with sex. While he was a senior and I was a junior, he would take me right in the bathroom stall on the fifth floor of our campus library. We never got caught. It was completely riveting and exciting. Though, going well into the second year of our relationship, I can't help but feel like it's falling apart.
I'm taking off my white blouse to show off the white lace bralette he likes. Still in my skin-tight jeans, I walk towards him. I take my hand to run it through his black hair. Then I climb onto his lap.
"Ba-" His brown eyes move away from the screen and he finally sees me.
"Are you going to press pause now, daddy?" I use his favorite kink against him while my hand leaves his hair. He's already without a shirt so I drag my hands down his bare chest. I smirk when a soft hum escapes him. That's when I take my boyfriend's cheeks into my hands and kiss him hard.
"Jo," he says and stops kissing me.
"It's babygirl," I correct in a desperate whisper, but disappointment is quick to take over when I realize he probably doesn't want me.
"I thought you just came over to study."
Disappointment transitions into hurt. Have I bored him already? Am I not sexy to him anymore? Before I begin listing my insecurities, I get off of him. "Yeah, I did," I say back and walk over to the blouse I left on his bed. I throw it back on after feeling incredibly stupid. "Shit, I just remembered... I have to meet my new mentor for coffee. You know, from the internship you haven't asked about." I make up a lie and the twisted part of me hopes he feels bad.
I don't hear him say anything because I'm walking out of his bedroom with my bag and book. I should have stayed away and mad at him.
As I'm leaving, my back feels like it's getting pricked by a thousand tiny needles. I'm hurt, scared, and so damn lonely as I wonder where the hell do I go until it's time for my shift at the bar.
I shouldn't feel this alone. I don't have anybody else but Matt and August to rely on and it leaves me sad.
I spent the last eight hours leading up to my shift wasting time at coffee shops and shopping plazas. I was too terrified to be alone so the company of passing strangers was enough.
Evening is setting and I make it to the bar on time. I see my manager cleaning out glasses with a rag as he's behind the counter. He's tall, hefty, and I don't think he's smiled once since I snagged this job in the summer soon after I turned twenty-one.
He gives me a small wave back just before I push through the door of the backroom for employees. I walk over to my locker. When I open it, I place my heavy tote bag inside. Then I reach for the clothes I wear to bartend.
After changing in the bathroom, I walk out in a black tank top, matching shorts, and an apron tied tightly to cinch my waist. Zac doesn't appreciate it when I wear this. He's expressed before that his bar isn't Hooters, but it's what keeps the tips coming. I learned from Penny, the girl who only works part-time with me sometimes.
I need the tips tonight.
After putting away my outfit for the day in my locker, I step out and make my way behind the bar.
The place is much more lively on the weekends when it's filled with twenty-something-year-olds taking advantage of karaoke night. On weekdays, the bar is filled with middle-aged men hanging around the pool tables.
"Better?" Zac asks about my well-being after I had been scared shitless the night before.
I nod, swallowing down the vivid memories of the guy who held a gun to my head. I almost forgot I haven't slept. "Better," I lie but smile at him anyway.
He gives me a nod as I wash my hands. It's time to bartend.
It's going well. No longer as shaken up, I find myself getting lost in the art of crafting drinks for the women the middle-aged men are buying drinks for.
"Enjoy," I tell a couple after I slide a drafted beer and mango margarita on the rocks their way.
I start to collect dirty empty glasses from the countertop as I hear the ringing of the bell. More customers are coming in. When I hear the squeak of a barstool, I'm alerted that somebody might want a drink.
"Good evening, can I get a tab open-" I stop mid-sentence the minute I look up.
Harry. He sits at my bar in a black dress shirt. He's looking right at me with a fallen curl, a smirk, and smudged eyeliner framed around his eyes. His ringed fingers slide onto the table surface. His hands fold as he chews on gum.
How the hell did he find out where I work?
"No, I'll pay as I go."
I'm frozen as I tightly grip onto two glasses I picked up. I don't understand why he's here if I haven't said a word. Does he think I have?
"I'll take whiskey neat, angel." With that, Harry is sliding over a bill with black chipped polish fingernails.
I can't move again. This man paralyzes me with just a stare. I watch as he pushes his hair back with knit together eyebrows.
"I'm sorry, are you alright?" He asks while his eyes take a quick scan down my body. He forms a sly grin on his face. "You didn't think I'd find you, huh?"
Fuck. I realize I'm gripping glass. I quickly set it in the gray bin behind me and look over at Zac. He's talking to another man at the far end of the bar. I dare to step close to Harry. Even though a bar separates us, I frightfully fear he might whip out his weapon. Still, I need him to hear my whisper. "Please... I didn't say-"
He leans forward. "Now angel face, if I were you I'd shut the hell up. I just want a fucking drink, is all," he tells me as he brings fingers up to his mouth. He takes the mint gum he chewed onto his fingertips. With eyes still on me, he lowers his hand and decides to stick his gum under the countertop.
Fuck off, I want to say. I don't believe he only wants a drink. He's here to remind me of just how easy he could get to me as he promised in the alley. I've had enough of this man ruining my entire day.
Though, I don't say it. I grab a glass for a straight pour and I set it in front of him. I reach below the bar for the whiskey.
Don't drop it. Don't drop it. Don't fucking drop it, Jo.
My shaky hands have caused a shaky pour. His intimidating stare is what's igniting the fear in me all over again. I'm trying so hard not to spill, but at this point it's inevitable.
"They let you work here?" He scoffs, possibly judging from the way I poured his stupid drink.
I don't answer him and I don't meet his eyes either. I only slide the bottle of whiskey back into its place and I take the bill he left for me to collect. I turn to the register.
"Keep the change."
I don't want shit from him, but I need to pay for the bottles of liquor he made me break last night. I continue to stay silent, shoving his change into the pocket of my apron.
The bells go off again. I look up to find Matt walking in.
Shit.
"Jo, babe," Matt says, taking a seat at the bar only two stools away from Harry. "You have a minute?"
Harry is staring. I feel his eyes burning my skin as I look at my boyfriend. I find myself frozen again. Please, I just want to breathe, I beg to no one in particular.
Slowly, I step over to Matt. "What are you doing here?" I ask in a whisper.
"I felt bad over how we left things earlier."
"Matt," I say to stop him from saying more. The last thing I need is for Harry to overhear my business. "Can we do this later? I'm working."
"Bathroom. Right now, babe. What do you say?"
Oh, my god. "Matthew, I'm working," I tell him with flushed cheeks. I don't even want to know if Harry is overhearing. "Please, leave."
"You're so damn confusing, Jo. First, you throw yourself at me-"
"Matt!" The anger from within me urges me to mentally derail. I'm about to snap as I run on only coffee and zero sleep.
"I hate to interrupt," Harry says from only two seats down. There's no way he didn't hear what Matthew said. The smirk on his face says it all. "but-" he waves his empty glass of whiskey, demanding for another pour.
I can hear my heartbeat loud in my ears. For Matthew's sake and maybe for my own, I look at him one last time and say, "Go home, please." I then slide on over to pour Harry another drink.
My boyfriend scoffs from where he sits. "Find your own way home."
I try my best to show that I am not fazed over what was said. I know the man who wants to kill me is staring at me, but I focus on pouring and not breaking anything.
"Frustrated?" Harry then asks as he slides another twenty my way.
I store the whiskey away and take the bill. I don't dare to look into his eyes. It would only remind me of the trauma he inflicted upon me. Also, frustrated wouldn't even describe how I'm feeling at the moment.
"Sexually, isn't the right?"
I turn away quickly. I face the register and scoff as I collect his eight dollars worth of change. This man has no right traumatizing me, harassing me, and knowing about my practically non-existent sex life.
"Is that all for you?" I set his change down by his drink. Though, before he could even answer I step further down the bar to check on my other customers.
As I craft another cocktail, my eyes shift to where Harry is. I had seen him get up from the corner of my eye. With a cellphone pressed against his ear, he's leaving the bar and I'm thanking the Gods.
I pour the cocktail mix from my shaker and into a glass over ice. I then top it with a strawberry garnish on the rim. It's as if the anxiety has lifted from me when Satan, himself, leaves from my proximity. After handing the woman her drink, I step over to where Harry had been. He left his change for me. With a quick eye roll, I snatch it and shove it into my apron. Then I collect his glass to store it with the other used glasses.