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I push his hand away. “Those are from tripping on the stairs and ramming into the banister at my apartment,” I say, not meeting his eyes.
“April,” he says, soft but firm. He doesn’t believe me.
“He’s not that bad,” I tell him. “Now are you the angel I believe you to be, or are you a devil who’d keep me here against my will?”
He frowns, then kisses me until I swoon against him, dizzy even though I’m lying down. Just when I’m about to forget everything in my life but what he’s doing to me, he pulls away and sits up, reaching for his shirt.
“Come on, then. Get dressed.” He grins, looking at my tattered underwear in pieces across the room. “I’ll get you something. Hang on.”
He brings me some running pants and the sweatshirt I wore last night. I have to roll the waistband half a dozen times to keep them from falling down. I wonder how I’ll explain the strange outfit to Amelia when I left in a sweater and skirt; which must still be in the dressing room at the club.
We’re quiet on the drive back to my apartment, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. I just don’t know what’s left to say. As he pulls up in front of my building, I get out and stand on the stoop, watching as he slowly drives away. Is he waiting for me to run after him, or is that wishful thinking? I certainly want to.
As his car rounds the corner and disappears, it feels like the last bit of happiness I was so graciously offered is disappearing along with him. I don’t want to relegate last nightto just a memory, but that’s all it can ever be. A perfect, wonderful memory.
I hope to get inside and change my clothes before anyone notices I’m back, but Uncle Harris is already awake, brewing coffee in the tiny kitchen. He’s in a great mood. Too good. His smile is more like a lion baring its teeth when he turns to me.
“I take it the auction money’s already in your account?” I ask, keeping my tone from sounding as bitter as I feel. If I could get my hands on even a tenth of that money, Amelia and I could run and never look back.
“It is, indeed,” he crows. “And it was such a success I’m already working on another one. This time we won’t go through the club though, so I can keep all the earnings. The clientele won’t be as upscale, and you’re used goods now, but you’ll still make plenty.”
I have to stare at the tattered rug on the floor so he doesn’t see the hatred I feel for him. I really think I could kill him then and there, but then what would happen to Amelia after I went to prison? I don’t say a word as I somehow get to my room without lashing out at him in utter fury. Amelia is sitting up on her bed in her outgrown princess pajamas with a book on her lap. I wonder if she slept at all last night or stayed up worrying about me.
She looks over my strange attire while I force a smile and tell her I’ll play a video game with her as soon as I’m done showering. I don’t want to erase the feel and scent of Michael from my body, but it’s an excuse to lock myself in the bathroom and away from her questioning eyes. I make it until the water is blasting noisily from the shower jets before breaking down into uncontrollable sobs.
Chapter 8
Michael
Since I don’t currently have a job and I can’t get my mind off of April, I decide that we’re not finished yet. Dropping her off at her apartment was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, but she’d been adamant, almost panicked about getting back there.
I didn’t understand it then, but now I do.
Waking up the next morning, free of my position as head of security at The Black Door, but nowhere near free from the thing that got me fired; I did a little sleuthing.
Some might call it stalking, but I called it curiosity. Active 1: Never mind that when I saw April coming out of her apartment building that morning, all I wanted to do was run over and sweep her into my arms. Press her against my body where she belonged. Then a much younger girl followed her out of the building. She looked like a mini version of April, maybe eleven or twelve years old.
With their heads down the whole way, it was easy to follow them the couple blocks to the middle school where April hugged her goodbye, then turned and scurried back to her building. Her little sister. April didn’t want to leave her with that monsterthey had to call an uncle. I followed them every day for a week, looking for a reason. A new bruise, because I didn’t buy her story about falling down the stairs for one second.
I stay hidden while hoping she’ll sense my presence and demand to know why I’m watching her.
But despite April looking more defeated and tired by the day, it’s been a week and nothing’s shown up. She never looks left or right, just keeps her head down and drags herself home after dropping off her sister. Now I’m sitting in my own tiny apartment, at the crack of dawn, sipping my black coffee before heading out to follow them on their trek to the school. Then I plan to stake out April’s place in case she needs me.
I’m convinced I need to do something, but what? I see my little hole in the wall with fresh eyes. The kitchen, living area, and my bedroom are basically the same room, divided by the kitchen counter and the couch that turns into a bed. There’s another room that anyone who lives in the middle of the country would call a walk-in closet at best, that I’ve turned into a makeshift office. It barely fit the desk and chair I shoved in there. The single bathroom is even smaller than that.
I try to imagine bringing April and her sister here, but there just isn’t space. Considering the apartment further, I dismantle the desk and haul out my old camping gear. The inflatable mattress fits from one wall to the next with no room at the head or foot, and there’s about fourteen inches of free space on the side.
“Perfect room for any little kid,” I say out loud, my voice more bitter than the coffee.
It’s time to oversee the walk to school and I leave with an angry, helpless feeling that’s suffocating. It’s made worse when April seems more crushed than usual, with dark circles ringing her eyes and her delicate face looking almost gaunt. I squeezethe steering wheel until my knuckles are white, hating watching her spirit fade away.
This is my girl. I have to do something. I’m pissed as fuck at myself for waiting so long. With the decision made, I only have to wait for her to collect her sister at school. I’ll meet her there where she’ll feel safer, away from her uncle.
As I’m planning, the door to her building swings open and the uncle bursts out, his mean face twisted up in a snarl. It’s rare he leaves and the idea of just removing him from the equation all together is powerful.
But I’m not a criminal, not a hitman, and April would probably despise me. The next thing I know, she’s being pulled out of the building by the man whose head I was just fantasizing about tearing off. April looks more upset than the night of the auction, the fear on her pretty face turning to a look of pain as he jerks her down the steps to the sidewalk. Seeing his rough hands on her, along with her fright, makes the urge to destroy him almost too powerful to resist.
What has this woman done to me? She seems to have changed my very essence so that all I can focus on is her. Her safety, her happiness, her comfort.
