I STUMBLE OUT OF THEclub like I’ve had ten too many, a tirade of emotion storming inside me. I lost control. I never lose control, but Tara drives me crazy in both good, and bad ways, apparently. I’m trying to make sense of it all, but the more I try, the more of a jumbled mess I become. I stagger into the first bar I see and slam my hand on the bar top. It all just needs to go away—the betrayal and hurt and anger that is quickly taking over my consciousness.
“You’re the only one I come for.”
Liar!
The burly bartender asks what he can get me.
“Jack, straight up. Leave the bottle.”
“Can’t do that buddy. Against house policy.”
I pull out my wallet and slam my black card down right in front of him.
“With one fucking swipe, I can buy this whole fucking building and toss you right out on your ass. Give me the bottle and don’t fucking bother me,” I snap. Rage burning a hole through me like battery acid. The bartender steps back with an annoyed glare, but he pours me the shot and leaves the bottle.
“She burned ya good, huh?” He leans on the bar.
“You have no fucking idea.” I down the Jack in one gulp and pour myself another.
“Towers Hotel,” I tell the bartender. “Call them for a pick-upwhen I pass out.”
The guy nods and walks away as I begin a self-destructive assault on my body and my emotions.
Down the motherfucking hatch . . .
I HAD BEEN HOLED UPin my apartment for three days crying my eyes out.
I would still be sniveling under my covers if Philly hadn’t forced me out. Now I’m a walking zombie taking drink orders at Jo Jo’s. My hair is up in a messy bun, I have zero makeup on, and my emotions are nothing but a pile of ash. All I keep seeing is CJ’s face and the pain and betrayal etched all over its handsome features. All I can keep thinking about is how much I hurt him and how much he hates me. Despises me, is more like it. That hate-fuck made his feelings crystal clear. The guilt starts to build in my chest again, one heavy brick at a time. I’m utterly devastated. I meant it when I said I loved him and that he was the only one I come for. Once he walked back into my life, my body and soul belonged to him, even if I didn’t want to admit it straight away. Yes, I was with other men, but no, they didn’t pleasure me. They repulsed me. Once you feel the hands of a man who truly cares about you, it’s only him you crave.
Why did I do it? At first it was purely about the money. But after a while I sort of liked being someone else, someone who could satisfy their indecent cravings without being judged or looked down on. It was my terrible, debased little secret. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, and I’m not trying to justify my actions. Nor am I looking for pity or forgiveness, I know I don’t deserve either of those things.
I’m foolish, selfish and, above alI, flawed. I have more flaws than most. I know I committed transgressions and hurt the people I love. But it wasn’t intentional. By the time I was ready to get out, I was trapped. And a situation I thought was temporary became my entire world. Flaws. I have many of them. They don’t go unrecognized. No, it’s not forgiveness I want, just understanding. I’m human. I make mistakes. Big ones. And now it’s time to own up to those mistakes, aware I’ll walk away from them a different person. Maybe better, maybe worse. Only time will tell.
Today, I’m taking my first step, and unfortunately, it’s in the opposite direction of Christopher John Carmichael.
“Tara, try not to look so desolate. You’re depressing the customers.” Philly attempts some humor.
I glare at him. I don’t appreciate the joke. He knows everything that happened. Every heartbreaking detail.
“You think you just bounce back from what I’ve been through? My entire life is in shambles, and I lost the man I love.” I slam the tray down on the server’s station.
Philly’s eyes widen. “Chill out, hormonally-imbalanced Barbie.” He looks around the café to see if any of the customers noticed my little outburst. Jo Jo’s is a moderate size, with exposed brick walls, antique coffee makers, oversized wingback chairs, and cushy couches you actually sink into. It’s the perfect place to cozy up in and spend all day reading a book.
“Don’t tell me to chill out,” I erupt. “I didn’t want to leave the house, but you coaxed me out, and now, I feel even worse.”
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”
“I know,” I groan, frustrated. “I think I just needed a little more time. I’m taking a break.” I grab two empty sugar caddies for good measure. “I’ll fill these up.”
I escape to the stock room, where it’s cold and dark and no one will find me.
I huddle in the corner wanting to let it all out. The tension that has been continually building in my chest the whole night needs to be relieved and there’s only one way to do that.
Cry.
I don’t just cry. I sob until my body is wracked with tears and my palms are soaking wet. Until I feel like there’s nothing left of me. No energy, or buoyancy, or hope.
“Don’t cry, shortcake.” CJ’s voice is a murmur in my ear. I jump from surprise, but he catches my upper arms to keep me in place.
