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MY MOTHER WENT back to the shop to check on business, and I took a shower. When I was finished and blow-drying my hair, Tiffany called me.
“Holy crap, I just heard what happened,” she said. “That fucking asshole.”
I walked into my bedroom and started searching for something to wear. “I know,” I replied, pulling out a black cashmere sweater from the dresser. I threw it on the bed next to my new white denim skirt, and decided they’d look good together.
“Did you call the police?”
“No,” I replied, rifling through my underwear drawer. I held up a white silk thong, one that I’d purchased on a whim, and decided to pair it with a black and white pushup bra.
It’s not for Trevor, I told myself.
In fact, I’d decided not to meet with him later. No matter how sexy and sweet he’d been, I didn’t need to get involved with someone who had admitted that he was some kind of an outlaw. Especially after what my mother had told me. Even if it was just for sex. Amazing sex.
“Why not?” she screeched. “That guy should be locked up!”
“It’s going to be taken care of,” I said, remembering Trevor’s words.
“What does that mean?”
I sighed. “I think he’s going to be roughed up.”
She was silent for a few seconds and then laughed. “You can’t be serious? By who? Oh, wait... by Tank and his biker friends?”
“Something like that.”
“I doubt that’s going to help. It might scare him, for a while, but only really sick fuckers do that kind of stuff. He’ll start up again eventually. Seriously, Adriana, Jason needs to be locked up before he rapes some other poor, unsuspecting girl.”
“Easier said than done. I don’t have any real proof that he did anything,” I answered.
“You were drugged. That’s evidence enough.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t see him do it, and I’m sure I don’t have any more of it in my system. I don’t know if you heard, but I threw up all over him before he could even get my sweater off.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, I know it’s not funny but... I’m just picturing his face when you puked all over him. That must have been priceless.”
I smiled. It was scary at the time, but thinking back, he deserved that and so much more. “He was pretty pissed. Great timing on my part, though.”
“Obviously it couldn’t have been any more perfect,” she agreed.
“I just wish it would have happened before I got in the car with him. He dropped me off in the middle of nowhere and I had to call Tank’s friend for a ride.”
“Tank’s friend?”
“Well, I tried calling you,” I replied, not ready to tell her too much about Trevor yet. After the conversation with my mother, I wasn’t too sure about him myself anymore.
“I know, I’m sorry. I actually ended up going over to Jeff’s. I told Krystal, but she forgot.”
Jeff was a guy she sometimes hooked up with after clubbing. They used to date in high school.
“It’s okay.”
“You know, I wonder if the other guys were in on it,” said Tiffany, sounding angry again. “Gary and Brian. And... what was that other guy’s name? Lucas?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I don’t know if they knew about it.”
“Fucking assholes.”
“Have you ever seen any of them before?” I asked, knowing she hung out at the clubs frequently.
“Not that I remember. I mean, it’s possible, I guess. I may have just never noticed those guys.
My phone vibrated. “I gotta go,” I told her. “It looks like my mom’s trying to get ahold of me.”
“Okay. Call me later.”
“I will.”
I hung up and called my mother back.
“Can you come in a little earlier?” she asked. “Gerald’s got a migraine and we’re swamped. I need you to take customers.”
“I’ll be there within the hour,” I told her.
“Thanks, Adriana.”
“No problem.”
We hung up and I exchanged the sweater and white skirt for a short-sleeved black dress, knowing that my parents had always preferred their salespeople to dress more formally.
As I was putting my hair up, I thought about my father and how much I missed him. He’d been our rock and had spoiled me rotten growing up. The thought of someone shooting him and then laughing about it brought tears to my eyes.
How could anyone give such little regard to a man’s life?
Especially someone who was so much more than what those robbers had been. My father had been a kind man. A decent man. He’d been involved with the community and had given to charities. He’d even volunteered his time at the local shelter during the holidays to remind himself that anyone could fall into hard times.
“It could happen to any of us,” he once said to my mother when she’d first complained about him leaving us on Christmas Eve to volunteer. “One day you have everything, the next, you lose your job and struggle to put food on the table for your children. Look at the presents under our tree, Vanda. Imagine that there’s nothing there. Nothing. Or nothing in the refrigerator. No ham. No turkey. Not even a piece of bologna. Then, imagine what it’s like to have to look into your child’s face and tell them that there is no Santa Claus because you can’t afford to buy them a gift, let alone a full meal.” Then she said he’d grabbed the credit card and went to buy as many toys as he could carry to the shelter after purchasing a Santa Claus suit. It became a tradition, and the following year Vanda began to help him while I stayed behind with my grandparents, not having a clue as to what they were doing. Then, when I was old enough to understand, I helped wrap presents and even tagged along to deliver them. It wasn’t until we moved to Iowa, after they’d been robbed, that things changed and the volunteering stopped. Dad was diagnosed with lymphoma and his health began to deteriorate rapidly. Despite chemotherapy and trying other kinds of homeopathic treatments, he had died within eighteen months.
Remembering our last moments together, I went into the safe under my bed and took out the necklace my mother had given to me when I’d graduated high school. The one that my father had designed for the occasion, but hadn’t lived to see it. It was chunky, with white-gold chains, and a round pendant that contained a large dark blue sapphire. My birthstone. The gem itself had to be close to ten karats, and worth more than my new car.
I put the necklace on and blinked away the tears in my eyes. I decided to wear it to work. Not only in honor of my father, but as a reminder to why I needed to stay away from Trevor, no matter how hard it was to resist that sexy, blond biker.