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But I had to force myself to do it. After Jax climbed down the fire escape, Mike had barely grunted at me before he’d passed out on the bed. With him snoring so loudly, completely out of it, I’d snuck into the other room, climbed up on a stool and reached into the deep recesses of the uppermost shelf to get out my backpack. The one with my stash of money. With shaking hands, I’d counted it all up. I had a little over 800 dollars. I’d almost started crying.
I felt like I needed 2,000. The getaway wouldn’t cost too much money. Bus fare to Phoenix was cheap, and then I could stay in a pay-by-the-night hotel, but probably only for a week. Those places were rough. I didn’t want bedbugs, guys harassing me, fights outside my door between a pimp and his girls. Plus, it was too public. If Mike somehow figured out what city I headed to, he’d start by looking in those transient hotels, knowing that was where I’d be most likely to be found.
What came next was the part that would require a lot of cash. I needed to disappear. I figured the best way to do that would be to find a little apartment somewhere in a quiet neighborhood where I could keep to myself. With cash on hand, a landlord wouldn’t require references, my credit history, my last address, making all the kinds of inquiries and phone calls that would light up a trail connecting me to Mike. I could find someone who’d take it in hand, no questions asked, and give me a place to live.
I bet I could find work pretty easily. Everyone needed health aides, whether for home care visits or in a facility. I was sure Maria would act as a reference for me, and I knew I could trust her completely to never divulge anything to anyone. But that would still take time to find and start a new job.
At this rate, it would take me another eight months to save up what I needed. That made me want to break down and cry. I had to find another way to make money.
Pushing an elderly resident in her wheelchair, giving her a slow turn around the courtyard for some fresh air and sunshine, I racked my brain. I loved baking pies, but they weren’t exactly a huge moneymaker. Baking in my kitchen in small batches, mostly using fresh ingredients since they tasted best, I had a narrow profit margin. I hadn’t crunched all the numbers since it was still a hobby more than a business, but I figured I made about 50 cents a pie. That would be a lot of pies before I hit 2,000.
Almost as soon as the next idea came to me, I pushed it aside. I wasn’t that desperate. Yet. But I knew a girl back in my hometown who’d started making good money as a camgirl. She’d bought herself a webcam for 50 bucks, set it up in her bedroom, joined a site and started her career.
She’d bragged about it to anyone who’d listen. She said that the guys were dumb and it was easy to get them to pay you to do things. It was fun to earn 300 bucks masturbating in your bedroom for a few hours. I already spent pretty much every night doing that. Jax had me so worked up I could barely see straight. If I could really earn that kind of money, in one week I’d be all set and ready to go.
But I couldn’t do it. First, there was the very real possibility of Mike finding out. If he walked in and found me naked, playing with myself to an online audience, he wouldn’t exactly laugh it off. And then there was the fact that I just didn’t think I could do it. I was pretty handy with my vibrator, but that was in the dark, alone, for my own private enjoyment. There was a good chance that in front of my computer, lights, camera, action would leave me anxious, uptight and dry as a desert.
So, no to camgirl. No to pie making. I’d just have to work as many extra shifts at the home as I could. And maybe I could cut back even more on spending? Never buy a cup of coffee. Always bring my lunch to work, and make it something cheap like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Making good on my intentions, I covered the first couple hours of Maria’s shift that night. But that meant when I got home, it was late. And Mike was there.
“You cheating on me?” he asked, breath hot and heavy with the fumes of alcohol.
“No, I covered part of someone’s shift.”
He stalked over, backing me into the corner, leering through bloodshot eyes. “You can’t get nothing past me.” He fastened his hand to my throat, holding me against the wall, pinning me there while he stared into my eyes. I clawed at his hand, unable to breathe, eyes wide with panic. Then he released me, told me he wasn’t staying for supper, and headed out the door.
In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face, then sank to the edge of the tub. Head in my hands, I knew the truth. There was something deeply wrong with Mike. There probably always had been, I just hadn’t wanted to see it. I’d been too excited to leave my small town of people doing nothing and going nowhere. Too flattered that the big, tough motorcycle guy from L.A. had picked me to ride with him to Vegas.
I’d seen clearly during those few seconds he’d gripped my neck. He was strong enough to cut off my airflow. But what was worse, I could see the capacity to do it in his eyes. There was a coldness there, something dead, non-responsive and black.
I needed out, and I needed out fast. If I worked as much as I could and lived like a nun, maybe by February I could leave. Six months. I could make it that long. Even if it sounded like a lifetime away.
But during that time I absolutely had to stay away from Jax. It felt so good in his arms, everything I’d dreamed it would be and more. I lost all my inhibitions, instantaneously. All common sense, all awareness of reality had vanished the second he’d touched me. That was the problem. He was like a drug, and people got crazy when they were on drugs. Now wasn’t the time to get crazy. Now was the time to play it safe, keep my head down and focus on my goal. So I kept ignoring his texts, even as he kept trying to reach me.
The next Monday, he came to visit Ace. I knew we were bound to see each other soon. He arrived in the late afternoon. I’d been holding my breath, waiting and wondering.
“There she is!” Ace exclaimed as I entered, carrying a package that had arrived for him in the mail. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!” Ace always made me feel like I started a party by walking into the room.
“Let me get that for you.” Jax took the package from me, his hands grazing mine for the briefest moment as he lifted it. My heart raced, the air between us so charged I could practically feel it crackle. He looked so dark and big my mouth watered just from being in the same room. Now that I’d been wrapped in his arms, standing so close without touching felt painful. Resisting the unknown temptation was hard. Resisting the known delight was even harder.
So I bustled around, tidying, asking Ace about his day, what he’d eaten, whether he’d taken his medication. “Your movie request got approved,” I enjoyed telling him. He liked shaking things up.
“No kidding.” He looked pleased. Friday night, the retirement community would be watching Dirty Grandpa featuring Robert De Niro and Zac Efron. “You should watch with us,” he encouraged me. “It has that young boy in it. The one with the nice chest.”
“I might do that,” I agreed. After plumping the pillows on the couch and folding up a blanket strewn across a chair, I excused myself, explaining I had a lot to do. All the while, though I was so hyper-aware of Jax’s presence, I managed to not even make eye contact.
But he followed me to the door. “You working anyone else’s shift tonight?” His low, gravelly voice made anything sound sexy. I bet even when he called to order a pizza the woman taking his order fell for him.
“No, not tonight.”
“You’re off at six?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, look or any other basic functions. It took all my focus and effort to walk out the door. Why did Jax remember the timing of my shifts when my own husband couldn’t? Because he paid attention to me. Because he liked me. I knew the answers now, and it didn’t exactly firm up my resolve to keep my distance.
When I walked out at ten past six, Jax was waiting for me standing by his truck. I slowed down when I saw, but kept walking toward him. His magnetism was so strong he may as well have caught me in a tractor beam.
“Hey.” He shifted his
stance, from leaning against his truck to standing, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans as he looked at me. “Can I give you a ride?”
Swallowing, I nodded. As he walked around and opened the passenger door, I followed, telling myself I wasn’t violating any rules about keeping my distance. This way, during the ride home, I could clearly and calmly explain why we needed to stay away from each other. It would be a clean break.
In the cab together, I instantly realized I’d made a grave mistake. I’d changed after my shift, as was my habit. August was Cavallo Canyon’s hottest month, so I’d slipped into a sundress with spaghetti straps and a high hemline. It showed way too much skin. Now that I sat so close to Jax, every inch of it tingled.
“How you been?” he asked as he pulled out into the street.
“Fine. Working a lot. You?”
“I’ve been worried about you.” He glanced over before returning his gaze to the traffic. “What happened that night?” He shook his head, seeming angry with himself. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation. But I can’t say I’m sorry it happened.”
“Jax, this is really…” I closed my eyes, struggling for words. “This is really complicated.”
“Do you love him?”
“What?” Startled, I looked up, studying his profile, his strong jaw locked and tense. At the next store we passed, he turned into the lot.
Behind the building, he parked in a space. Then he turned to me. “Do you love him?”
“Mike?” I knew he meant Mike, I just couldn’t quite believe we were discussing him. Over the past six months our growing friendship had neatly and completely avoided the subject. Jax nodded in affirmation.
