Page 38 of Miss Trust

“It has nothing to do with my brother.” He began gathering the dishes up, agitation in his motions.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t trust that anyone can do anything for you without there being an ulterior motive.”

“Not anyone,” I whispered.

“Just me, then. Terrific. I’ll leave you.”

“No, it’s not just you. It’s men in general.” I put my hand on his arm, causing him to stop.

His eyes searched mine with intensity. “Tell me, then.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Is it because of your ex?”

“No.”

“Then what? What has you so distrustful of men?”

I let out a long sigh. “This would be a better conversation over whiskey.”

He quickly pulled out his phone and started texting.

“What are you doing?”

“Having Malik drop by a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

So that eveningwe sat at the small table in the hospital room, sipping whiskey while my daughter slept. Chance was patient while I tried to figure out if I could verbalize my teenage trauma. Or why in fact, of all people in this world, I’d choose to share it with my new boss. Maybe it was because he didn’t seem like he’d judge. Or perhaps because, against all odds, I’d managed to hurt his feelings, and wanted him to understand it truly wasn’t personal. Maybe it was because I’d never told another soul, and I was finally ready to speak about it.

“Remember I mentioned my mother was an addict while I was growing up?”

He took a sip from the crystal tumbler, matching the one in my hand. No red Solo cup for this guy.

“Yes, I remember.”

“She had a number of boyfriends, usually guys who could provide her drugs. Most were losers. My sister and I got really good at hiding out so as not to be present during any of their parties. I’d see the way some of the men would stare at me, and so I was careful.”

His hand gripped the crystal tightly. “What happened?”

Words spilled from my lips. “When I was fifteen, one of the men who hung around my mom—he was different. He wasn’t strung out, and he started buying groceries. Not only for my mom, but for me and my sister. He gave me money to pay the electric bill. We came home from school one day, and he was cleaning. He seemed to have money and would comment how he wanted my mom to start taking better care of us. He ordered pizza for us, and bought us school supplies. Hell, he paid more attention to us than my mom did.”

I took a healthy swig of the amber liquid, welcoming the burn down the length of my throat. “After about three weeks of doing all of these favors for us, he told me it was time to pay up.”

Naively, I hadn’t known what he meant until he’d put his hand on my leg, inching up. I’d been a virgin and knew about sex, but I’d never done more than kiss a boy.

I could no longer meet Chance’s eyes. My words were barely a whisper. “At first I told him no, but then he said he’d get payment from my sister if I didn’t.” To this day, I couldn’t perform a blow job without feeling triggered.

Chance stood up suddenly, both his hands fisted. Anger radiated from his whispered words “He raped you?”

“Is it rape if you don’t say no while it happens?” I’d asked myself that question over and over. I’d cried the entire time, and every time after, but I hadn’t told him no. Never dared deny him because of my fear he’d turn his attention to my eleven-year-old sister.