SO COLD
I WAS IN THE COMPANY of silence and obtrusive thoughts that made my temples ache. It was gone three in the afternoon. The burning gaze of the sun hid behind white blinds and the high temperature caused for sluggish limbs and sweaty skin. I was sprawled across a sofa in James' living room. He asked no questions when I knocked on his door with a change of clothes, a case with the gun Cole's father gifted to me and a toothbrush. He had told me to throw my belongings in a guest bedroom and to then join him for dinner. He received a phone call later that night from Oscar who was wondering where I was – much to my dismay. Oscar offered a crash pad. James glanced at me, repeated the caller's words, I shook my head, James passed on the message and then cut the call. I thought he'd furrow his brow in suspicion and ponder why Oscar cared enough to disrupt his night to find me but he simply tossed his phone to the side, stretched and yawned, and then sleepily said a 'goodnight' before heading upstairs to crawl under his covers.
Now James was out of the house, driving to a sitter's home to collect his son to then drive out of town to take his boy back to his mother's – a few days early, he remarked disgruntledly. Cebrián had spoiled his plans and he was not pleased. He started the day in a sour mood and his bad mood was likely going to rot in the day's unbearable heat.
The doorbell chimed loudly.
Motionless, I favoured the idea of ignoring the visitor until the chimes rang again. Slightly irritated, I got up and ambled out into the hallway. I unlocked the front door and twisted the door handle.
Oscar stood on the top step with a sheepish grimace and a pretty bouquet of soft-yellow lilies and pastel-pink roses. He shifted slightly from one foot to the other and began sincerely, green eyes wide and bright. "I want to apologise for the way I've been behaving towards you lately. It's unacceptable and I understand if you don't want me to be anywhere near you. I didn't mean to hurt you or to put you in uncomfortable situations. I don't know what's wrong with me. Normally I show a lot more restraint than I have been doing these past few days and I don't act so..."
I suggested, "Piggish?"
"Yes," he held out the bouquet, anxious. "Forgive me?"
"No."
His face fell at my blunt response. Unhappy, he tried again. "I'm sorry, I am, Shay. I don't know what more you want me to say,"
"How about 'I'm leaving to blow my brains out and I'm never returning'? I would love to hear that rather than a shitty apology. You should go, Oscar. I have a list of things I need to do and you're interrupting my busy schedule of doing absolutely nothing." I tried shutting the door and his arm shot out, hand against the door and he took a step forward, mouth grim.
"At least accept the flowers."
"No,"
"Accept the fucking flowers."
"The nice guy act didn't last long, huh?" he shoved the flowers at my chest and I made no move to hold the bouquet.
"Pick it up."
"Why? You dropped it. Why don't you bend over like the whore you are and grab it? I don't want it. Maybe you can get a return and buy something worthwhile like your common sense."
"I figured you'd be like this," his lips curved into a chilling smile and he closed the door with a soft click. He became the predator and I, his unwilling prey. He advanced closer. "I've been thinking–"
"That's a goddamn miracle."
"You're not the sort of girl to like boxes of chocolates and roses in bathtubs. You like rough handling. Aggressiveness. You can squeal all you like about how you're a feminist and how much men sicken you but I know the real truth. You become wet at the thought of men overpowering you. You want me to take you, don't you, baby?"
"No, in actual reality the thought terrifies me. I'm grossed out by you. There's a difference between dominance in the bedroom between two consensual partners and assault. What you do falls into the latter category. You need to get a clue and leave me the hell alone. I will never want you and– Stay away from me, Oscar." I growled irately, hands balled into fists.
"I can't keep away from you," he grabbed my wrists as I tried shoving him, roughly pushing me against the wall. His voice was soft, hoarse and a desperate plea to understand. He placed his head in the crook of my neck, his breath hitting my throat. "I've never wanted anyone as much as I've wanted you. You're all I ever think about. Stop fucking struggling. What makes you think you can get away from me? I will beat your fucking ass into submission. I'm not Cole, I won't entertain your stubbornness. If you don't listen to me, I will punish and humiliate you. You got that, baby?"
"I'm with Cole again."
"What?" his hold tightened for a second and then he tore himself away from me. His expression was contorted into hatred. "When did this happen?" he demanded furiously.
"Last night." I didn't flinch away from his hardening gaze. My lie sounded truthful even to my own ears which was worrying.
"You're going to regret this," he swore and crushed the flowers under his heel as he stormed out of the house, slamming the door after him in his rage. His engine grumbled to life and he pressed the foot on his accelerator, squealing down the road.
I straightened up and ran both hands through my hair in frustration. I didn't understand men. They were jaggedly cut jigsaw pieces that didn't fit anywhere in the picture. Threats and curses were ignored and often, laughed at. Oscar only backed off for respect for his friend and his unwillingness to share – as if there would ever be an option! I loathed how women in this godforsaken criminal world were treated, like objects to be used and discarded and told to stay put. It was unjust and the behaviour the men exhibited was objectionable and distasteful. It was pointless crying about this though, change was never going to happen.
I waited a whole sixty seconds to be sure he wasn't going to return and then I headed out, unlocking the Shogun and slipping in. I pulled on my seatbelt and backed out of the driveway and began driving almost aimlessly at first. I was soon stuck in a Summer's traffic jam and relaxed my tensed shoulders with a heavy sigh. Where the hell was I going? Why did I leave the house? I had no friends other than Irvin. I owned a pitiful social life. It was sad.
I slipped a hand under my shirt and double checked to see if the gun was safely secure. It felt bulky and glaringly obvious that I carried a weapon. I wasn't used to it. I hoped in a week or so I wouldn't even notice it was there. Fingers crossed.
Getting out of the queue, I signalled right and slipped into a car park. I found a spot on the third floor. It took me over an hour to return to the Shogun: I had brought a mobile phone from the mall. My wallet was terribly lighter. However, I needed a phone, it was a necessity to live and breathe.
I slipped in a Nano sim and using the mall's WiFi began setting up my phone settings.
A gloved hand suddenly knocked on the window and I jumped in fright. I hadn't expected it and my head shot up and my gaze collided with a familiar face. The man was average height and neither fat nor skinny. His arms were hairy. He had a gleaming bald patch and thin lips. White. Friendly grin. "Shay! I thought I recognized you."
I cringed.
It was Joe Berkowicz, Law teacher from college. He mimed rolling the window down and I did so, and he leaned in, his breath smelling of mints. "How've you been? I haven't seen or heard from you since you left college. This isn't too awkward, is it?"
"No, sir. And I'm OK."
"Oh, call me Joe," he laughed and it didn't appear sincere. "I was fired for having a baby with Ivy. And I went through a messy divorce and–" he stopped, and he breathed in my face, and babbled. "I should shut up. I doubt you want to hear this."
"Uh." Why was he telling me his life story? "Congrats on the baby, I guess."
"I've lost everything, can you believe that?" he flashed nicotine stained teeth at me in a humourless grin. "My fucking wife left me because of that stupid kid who I don't get to even see. I live out in my car because the bitter bitch took the house and left me penniless, and it was all because of some whore in a short skirt flashing me her hairless pussy."
"You were the teacher. Ivy was the student." I implied the obvious: he needed to grow up and accept where he went wrong.
"Yes, and your point is?" his wild eyes latched on to mine and he sneered. "She wasn't even good. She gave sloppy blowjobs and she would stay behind after class and make it obvious we were fucking. What a bitch, right?"
"Sir? Sorry to interrupt but I need to go," I said. "I've left the oven on and I must get back before the house burns down."
"Oh, alright," he sighed heavily and made to move away and then returned, "one last thing..." he levelled a silver pistol at my head and barked. "Get out of the fucking car."
**