Page 17 of Vicious Sentiments

I feel silly in it now though, standing in a salon with the three of them, all my wounds on display. At least Marney doesn’t seem concerned, and Margo is expertly avoiding looking. But I know Julian is examining me from his peripheral vision from the clench in his jaw.

“Everyone ready to get out of here? I think Mipsy wants to go home.” Margo waves Marney up.

“Wait! We have to get the Dyson!” Marney jumps up.

“We aren’t getting a six-hundred dollar blow dryer.” She rolls her eyes and starts gathering the other shopping bags, including the one with my clothes.

“Get the girl the blow dryer.” Julian tightens his arm around my waist.

“Don’t start in. This girl is more spoiled than any other tween on the planet.”

“Ew don’t call me that. I’mthirteen,not a tween.”

“You’ll be a teen when you’re twenty.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Neither does a six-hundred dollar blow dryer.” Margo waves us toward the front of the salon.

I expect Marney to start throwing a tantrum, to become mean and entitled, but instead she gives a single huff and heads towards Margo.

“I’m going to show you a video on how it works and then when we come next time you’ll buy two, one for you and one for me.”

“We’ll see.” Margo smiles conspiratorially and then looks at me and Julian. “Are you two statues? Come on.”

I make to titter forward but Julian keeps a hold of me.

“I think we are going to find some dinner.” He looks down at me and smiles. “You look too good not to go out,” he says under his breath, and I hold his eyes, the blush blooming on my cheeks as I try not to duck under my hair.

Margo pauses, the bags crinkling on her arm. “Julian,” her voice takes on an edge.

“It’s just dinner, Ma.”

“Sure it is,” she sighs and turns her back. “You bring her back to my house. Not yours.”

Chapter Fifteen

I’m forced to sit like a lady because of the short dress. We’re in Julian’s nice car and my silky hair tickles my bare shoulders as the wind whips in from the window. It’s not the McLaren, it’s a different car but still just as nice. I eye the radio dock and wonder if there’s a gun hidden behind it as well but then quickly look away when Julian quirks a brow.

“Music?” He asks and taps a dial.

The car fills with a low hum, and I shift in my seat, trying to tug down the dress and find a comfortable position. I’m not used to having to be conscious of how I sit since I typically don’t wear anything so revealing.

I notice it draws Julian’s attention and his eyes linger on my legs. At first, I warm, admiring my legs as well, how well the blue dress compliments my skin, and then suddenly my stomach turns. A pit of unease and cold dread steels my spine, coiling around me. It’s such a sudden flip in my emotions that my heart starts racing. The air in my lungs disappears.

I shouldn’t be in a dress this short. I shouldn’t be alone with him. I shouldn’t feel warm under a man’s gaze.

I grip the leather center console on my left as if just waking up and realizing what I’ve gotten myself into. I shouldn’t have agreed to the salon. I shouldn’t like my new hair. It draws too much attention. Ishould have gone back with Margo and Marney. I shouldn’t like the way Julian called me his girl or said I looked too good not to go out. What did that mean? Did I trade the evil I knew for an evil I don’t?

“Hailey?” Julian shifts the gears and the car slows. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t speak. I can’t speak. I shouldn’t speak. His hand comes up to mine on the console and I jerk away before he can touch me. This is it, this is where my instincts are proven right. I’m so stupid. How could I let my guard down? Feel anything other than numb? Now I’m screwed. I’m going to feel every lash, every thrust, every stinging slap. All the walls I built are in ruins on the ground and I have nothing to protect me.

I should have let go on the bridge, be damned if he witnessed it. He wouldn’t have been able to save me. I should have been braver. What kind of person can’t do what it takes to prevent the pain? Death would have swaddled me in her blissful nothingness, taking me somewhere hope and despair aren’t a toxic pair that make each other so volatile.

I gasp for air, clutching my chest as my heart slams against my breastbone. My body can’t take it. I knew my body couldn’t take anymore, that’s why I chose to feel nothing. If I didn’t feel happy, I couldn’t feel the pain that threatened to crush my body like a soda can. What have I done?

The car is pulling over to a curb as I clutch at the silly dress, as if I can somehow change my actions and turn it into a burlap sack that no one would find appealing. Tears flood my eyes as the fabric cloys at my dampening skin, sweat drowning me in shame. I’m so stupid and I’m screwed.

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