Twisted, p.5
Twisted, page 5
“Mrs. Morrison!” Mary called, dragging her husband behind her. Patsy's smile twitched and seemed less forced when she acknowledged Brielle's parents.
“Mrs. Jeffries,” Patsy said as she clasped Mary's hand. “What a pleasant surprise. I wasn't sure whether to expect you and your husband.”
Leonard took her hand, leaned in, and kissed her cheeks, and then Patsy motioned to the man beside her. “You remember my husband, Fraser?”
“Oh yes, of course,” Mary said as she greeted Patsy's husband. “It's been ages since I've attended one of your events. We couldn't resist this one. I knew it would be well worth it and I am not disappointed. As always, a beautiful engagement; your ability to throw a flawless event never ceases to amaze me.” She blinked her long eyelashes at Patsy before glancing at her husband. “Isn't that right, Leonard?”
Leonard smiled. “All Mary has spoken of since last year was this function.” He motioned toward the party. “It's truly a good cause.” The AHW was famous for its support of women who had suffered trauma.
“The charity has always been close to my heart,” Patsy said. Her gaze lifted and glanced past Mary and Leonard to where Brielle stood. “Oh my goodness, Brielle?”
Brielle forced a smile when she heard her name. “Hi Patsy, it's been a long time.”
“Far too long,” Patsy said. “We must catch up soon since you're back.”
“Right,” Brielle agreed. “We should.” Though she knew they never would. That was all girls did these days, fake smiles and false sentiments. Did anyone have a real friend anymore?
Patsy smiled again and waved them into the large banquet hall. “Please, find your seats and enjoy yourselves.”
“You'll come by our table later, won't you?” Mary called as Leonard led her away.
“Of course. See you later, Brielle.”
“See you,” Brielle said, following her parents. As they made their way through the banquet hall, Brielle looked back at the couple greeting guests. Patsy's smile had disappeared, and Fraser pulled her close. His jaw was stiff and his gaze hard; his easy expression upon greeting them was gone.
Patsy didn't meet her husband's gaze as he spoke to her; his grip on her waist tightened, and she winced before he released her. When Fraser stepped back from his wife, Patsy’s eyes quickly darted around. Her gaze met Brielle's, and she immediately dropped the contact.
If it wasn't age her makeup was trying to cover up; was it something else? Maybe those weren't bags Brielle had noticed, but fading bruises. Perhaps that was why the charity was so close to her heart.
Brielle turned away as Patsy and her husband entered the grand hall. How had the most confident girl in their high school ended up here? Patsy never touched drugs; she never drank a drop. She was most likely to succeed, and now it looked as though she had fallen the furthest, and for once, Brielle didn't hate herself for the life she'd endured.
Chapter 8
Melanie Parker
“I won’t always have this opportunity, Patsy,” he said through gritted teeth. His voice lowered, and he breathed hot air on her as he huffed out the words. He took her hand in a tight grip. Too tight. “It’s like you don’t want me to succeed.”
She flinched. “You know that’s not true.”
“I don’t know anything when it comes to you,” he snapped.
She glanced around them, worried about who might be listening. They'd always done a good job hiding their marriage flaws in the past. Recently, his displeasure with her had been getting more erratic by the day.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it.” She risked a glimpse behind her toward the beautiful setup in the banquet hall. She hoped this night would be one when his anger was forgotten, and she could pretend their marriage was as picturesque as it was when they first met. She was always fooling herself into silly dreams.
She released a breath when his grip on her loosened and his expression softened. “Of course. You were confused.” He reached up and affectionately smoothed her hair, and she stood stock still, hoping he wouldn't notice how she always winced at his touch. Not that anyone would blame her. These days she didn't know if a pat or a hit would come from his initially loyal and loving hands.
He pulled her back against him, his mouth at her ear. “Now, let’s join those women you call your friends and forget you ever said anything.”
She closed her mouth and forced it into a confident smile as he led her further into the banquet hall. Her strained smile only caused pain to shoot through her face. The bruise had been so prominent yesterday and had faded enough today to cover up. It wasn’t enough to stop the discomfort he'd caused, physically and emotionally. It was really hard to feign happiness when you were dying slowly inside.
Mel jolted awake at the sound of her phone. Groggy, she reached for it, trying to silence the annoying alarm. Patsy. She'd dreamed about a Patsy.
The alarm wouldn't let up, so Mel grabbed the phone, realizing it was a call.
Jackie's picture covered her screen.
“It's early,” Mel said. She placed her hand over her eyes as she listened to Jackie on the other end of the phone.
“How are you asleep? Do you have any idea what happened?” Jackie's voice was breathy. Her words came out too quickly.
Mel sat up, goosebumps making her arm hair stand on edge. She was alone in the room. Blaine must have gone out early. Or had he not come home? Last she remembered, he was taking one of the girls to a job and planned to be home once everything seemed in order.
“What are you talking about?”
“Mel,” Jackie said, her voice harder. “Blaine assaulted someone last night. They have him at the police station.”
That had Mel out of bed and on her feet immediately. Blaine knew better than to get caught by the cops. Already Mel could see her operation spiralling out of control. Blaine would be charged. He'd get a record. The cops would keep an eye on him, then discover the truth about her line of work and how she kept so many young women employed. What was he thinking? Immediately, she brought up a mental list of each woman who had worked for her and started considering the best way to dispose of the paper trail.
“Have you talked to him?” Mel switched her phone to speaker as she frantically peeled off her sweat-soaked nightshirt and pulled on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt.
“No,” Jackie said. “I spoke to Amara. She told me he attacked the guy she'd been servicing. The police were called and took all three of them in for questioning.”
Mel closed her eyes. This was not good. She descended the stairs, about to head to the police station to get Blaine.
“Is Amara okay?”
“She's fine, but she's gone.”
“Gone? What does that mean?”
Mel didn't hear Jackie's answer, as the door swung open before she responded, and Mel pulled the phone away from her ear. There in the doorway stood Blaine, looking exhausted and angry.
“Jackie. I have to go. Blaine just got home.”
Mel ended the call and gaped at him. “What the hell happened?”
Blaine's jaw clenched, and he slammed the door shut behind him. He didn't say a word. Instead, he brushed by Mel and headed toward the kitchen.
“Blaine!” Mel reached out and grabbed his arm. He shook off her hold. She followed his steps. “You have to talk to me. Did you get charged?”
“Of course not. Not unless he wants to be charged.” Blaine growled the words at Mel as he turned to face her. Mel didn't step away. She only continued to glare up at him.
“What happened?” she asked again. “Because you attacked somebody last night … like the idiot you are.” Mel spat the words at him without thinking.
Blaine's hands curled. “Don't.”
“Not until you tell me what happened,” Mel demanded. “You got picked up by the cops. You're putting our whole operation in jeopardy. Did you even think?” She reached out to grab him again. Blaine's hands flew up and caught Mel's wrists.
“I said, don't.” His eyes flashed as he shoved Mel away from him. He stormed toward the stairs.
“You'll have to tell me eventually,” Mel said, following. “I'd rather not have cops come knocking on our door.”
He turned sharply and held his cold gaze on her. “That asshole lied to you,” Blaine said through his teeth. His chest rose and fell quickly. “I dropped Amara off and waited. Less than an hour after I left her, I got a call. There was no one on the other end. All I could hear was Amara screaming no.”
Mel's eyes widened. Her stomach twisted with guilt.
“When I got back to the house, he was laughing his ass off with a camera while one of his fucked up friends held Amara down so the other ones could ...” Blaine looked away as he trailed off. He closed his eyes for a moment as if not willing to relive it. He didn't need to say. Mel understood they were raping her.
“So you attacked them?” Mel snapped. Despite what happened, Blaine put them all in danger with his actions. She wished their lives could be different and they didn't have to hide what they did. She wanted to give absolute security to all working girls. That wasn't a reality, and Blaine knew better than to jeopardize their lives and the lives of the women they employed.
Blaine's eyes narrowed. “I saw red, Melanie. There was nothing else I could do.”
“Yes, there was,” Mel said, matching Blaine's glare. “You could have gotten her out of there without putting someone in the hospital.”
Blaine's jaw clenched again, and he shook his head. “He didn’t go to the hospital. His sleazy friends took off once the sirens sounded, and I was left to pick up the pieces. He told the police we were fighting over a girl. Amara didn't speak a word.”
He looked away, and Mel knew what he was thinking—a part of him wished she had. Maybe Mel would step away from this life if Blaine and the other guy had both been charged. He was an idiot for thinking it.
He turned back to her with a sad, merciless smile. “You don't need to worry. You may have lost a girl, and she may have been assaulted thanks to you, but your operation and life are safe.”
Blaine turned on his heel and headed up the stairs.
Mel opened her mouth to retort and found she had nothing to say. His words had been both cruel and true. She didn't ask about Amara. She was supposed to be better than this. She was supposed to be the one to help girls like Amara, to give them a liberating job where they were in control of their bodies and not ruled by men. How could she have been so careless?
Mel went to the kitchen and lowered herself onto the barstool. Then she reached for her phone and dialled Jackie.
“What happened?” Jackie sounded out of breath when she answered.
“He's home. He's not happy.” Mel placed her forehead in her free hand. “There wasn't a charge against him. He was free to go. Still, he put us all in danger with these actions.”
“It's not like he wanted to attack them.”
Mel paused, knowing Jackie was right. Blaine was the farthest thing from an aggressive person. She'd only seen his anger come out twice in the two years they'd known each other. The first time was when a John got too pushy with Mel and wanted more than what was agreed upon. Mel had always been able to hold her own, and when things got out of hand, she called Blaine in. He'd made quick work of the man and had Mel out the door in under five minutes.
The second time was only a few months back when Mel decided to go back to her ex. She still didn't know why she went to see him or what she'd done to cause him so much anger. He was always angry these days.
Blaine interrupted a particularly rough morning, finding Mel cowering on the kitchen floor with her ex standing over her, ready to hit her again. The only thing Mel remembered now was seeing Blaine in the doorway, eyes narrowed, as he stormed across the room, grabbed the back of the other man’s shirt, and swung him across the room. He punched him too many times after that, and it was all Mel could do to beg him to stop. The loser wasn't worth Blaine going to jail for homicide.
Mel let out a long sigh. She'd been unfair to Blaine.
“It must have been pretty bad,” Mel whispered after a while of silence. “For Blaine to do that.”
“Be glad it wasn't you, or they'd all be dead, and we'd be dealing with a murder.”
Mel couldn't deny it.
“Instead, we're a girl short, and Blaine is pissed.”
“I think he's upset. He was protecting Amara. It's not like he punches every asshole we come across.”
“I was too hard on him.” Mel stood. She needed to talk to him. “Jackie, I'll call you later, okay?”
“Don't bother,” she said. “I'm here.” She ended the call as the front door creaked open.
Mel left the kitchen to find her in the front hallway. “You didn't have to come.”
Jackie didn't speak; she walked to Mel's side and took her in a firm hug. “We'll be okay.”
Mel didn't answer. She just let her friend comfort her.
When Jackie pulled away, she frowned, reached up, and touched Mel's cheek.
Mel quickly swatted her hand away as pain shot through her face.
“What happened to you? Are you bruised?”
“Nothing.” Mel reached up and touched her tender cheek. She couldn't remember anything hitting her in the face that would have caused such discomfort. She glanced in the hallway mirror and saw the faded yellow splotches around her left eye.
Mel quickly laughed it off. “Blaine rolled me off the bed the other night when things got a bit passionate. You know how clumsy I can be.”
Pretending with Jackie always came easy. The girl would believe anything Mel told her. However, Mel couldn't so easily convince herself. It had been a while since she'd suffered severe memory lapses. Or discovered unexplained bruises. Maybe she'd been drinking too much. Stress sometimes made her go a little heavy on the sauce.
She couldn't let Blaine find out. The last time a boyfriend found out about her blackouts, she was sent away for psychiatric help. It had done nothing but cause her more distress. She wouldn't go through that again.
The idea made Mel's stomach twist; however, she had no idea what may have caused the faded bruising or any idea why she hadn't noticed a bruise in the first place.
Jackie cracked a smile that disappeared quickly, and she chewed on her lower lip. “What do we do now about the Amara thing?”
Mel turned back to her friend. “We change our tactics. Get better at screening. I won't let that happen again.”
Mel went for the stairs, resolved to find Blaine. She owed him an apology.
Jackie didn't speak again, only let Mel walk away. They both were thinking the same thing. In their line of work, how could they ever be sure they were one hundred percent safe?
Mel’s ears perked at the sound of the front door opening. It had been over three days since Candy had left, and Jackie had gone home the day before. For once, Mel and Blaine were expecting a quiet night alone.
“Hello?” The voice sounded from the front hall. “Anyone home?”
Mel rolled her eyes and threw her legs over the side of the bed as she discarded her day planner on the bedside table. Blaine looked up from the book in his hand as she moved toward the door.
“What an astute question,” she mumbled more to herself than Blaine. Why would the front door be unlocked if no one was home? She glanced back when her phone chimed on the bedside table and almost went to pick it up.
“Hello?” the voice came again.
Mel resolved to answer whoever it was later and headed down the stairs to find Candy at the entrance.
“You're okay.”
Candy smiled, kicked off her shoes, and placed a small bag she'd been carrying on the floor. “Yeah, though the asshole didn't give me much.”
“You're lucky he gave you anything.” Mel paused, then added, “And didn't hurt you more.”
“I guess.”
Mel's eyes narrowed. “You are. To think otherwise is pretty naïve.” Or lucky. Candy had never seen the abuse Mel had.
Candy grimaced, shifting uncomfortably under Mel's gaze. She looked as she did when she left. No worse for wear.
She really was lucky.
Mel shook her head and turned for the stairs, uninterested in Jackie's pet.
“Uh,” Candy said, forcing Mel to look back in her direction. “Is Jackie here?”
“No,” Mel said.
Candy hovered in the doorway, seemingly unsure how to proceed.
“Come with me.” Mel waved Candy to follow her. Mel had hoped Jackie would be here when Candy returned. Without her, Mel would have to tend to her in her friend's place.
Candy picked up her bag and followed Mel up the stairs. Mel led her into Jackie's room, reached into the top drawer, and pulled out the bracelet Candy had given them days before. “Here.” Mel held the bracelet out to her. “Jackie will be glad you're back.”
Candy eyed the bracelet. “Keep it.”
“I don't want your blood diamonds.” Mel took Candy's hand and thrust the bracelet into it.
Candy frowned and ran her fingers over the diamonds before putting them back on her wrist.
“I owe you for taking care of me, for letting me stay. I don't have any money. This is all I can give you.”
“You could work,” Mel said as if their job was a basic career. “I lost a girl this week. I could use another who’s cute, innocent looking.” She waved her hand up and down Candy's body. “You fit the bill. What do you say?”
“I don't know what I'm agreeing to.”
“You can't stay if you don't pay your way.”
Candy lowered herself to the bed behind her as if to consider where to go from here.
“What do I have to do?” She met Mel's gaze.
Candy said nothing while Mel explained the complex operation she and Blaine had set up in the previous year. Her eyebrows were set in a hard line, and she seemed uncertain.
