Page 1 of The Last Call
The instructions I’ve heard—that I’ve recited myself in our meetings with the new pledges—circle around and around in my mind.
Preserve evidence by placing belongings such as clothes in a paper bag.I shove my bloody panties and ripped skirt down to the bottom of the trash can and cover them with a wad of paper towels and stale cupcakes left over from Jordan’s birthday that no one’s ever going to eat, tossing the empty box in the recycle bin.
Don’t shower or bathe.I gather my damp hair into a pile on top of my head. Not bothering to comb out the tangles.
Go to the nearest emergency room and ask for the sexual assault advocate.I tiptoe to Margaret’s room. Grateful to see the light still on. A sweet, studious girl who everyone loves. Although I always wonder if she knows how much people make fun of her behind her back for never drinking. But now I realize that all along she’s been the genius. Never having a drop of alcohol in her life, she sits at her desk typing away. Free from harm. Safe and content. Without any guilt or pain or fear.
She doesn’t seem surprised when I knock on the cracked door. Maybe a lot of people bother her this late.
“Hey Sydney. What’s up?”
I’m terrified out of my mind and don’t know what to do. “I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could take me to the drug store.” I smooth down the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Trying to hide the shaking in my body and my voice. “I mean if you don’t mind. I really, really need to go.”
Worry reddens her freckled cheeks, and she runs a curious gaze down my body. Almost as if she senses something’s wrong. I guess wearing jeans and such a heavy top does seem strange when it hasn’t been less than eighty-five degrees since the summer semester started.
“Sure. Let me get my keys.”
“Thank you.”
My whisper must be loud enough for her to hear because she nods and grabs her phone off the dresser too. I follow her mutely down the hallway and through the common area to the back door. Realizing when I traveled this same path hours earlier I thought all my dreams were coming true. So different from the nightmare destroying me now.
The interior light of a red Hyundai sedan blinks on when she pushes the button on her fob. Practical, sensible, and efficient just like her. I forget how tender I am until I drop onto the seat. My mental anguish worse than the physical pain until this reminder. She doesn’t say a word but I’m sure she hears. How can she not notice when I gasp like a furnace kicking on?
She looks straight ahead as we drive while I stare at my hands. Fingers scratched from fighting with his. I gag a little from the dark pink lines under my nails. Not sure if it’s his blood or mine.
Neither of us attempt any small talk. I don’t think I could manage a conversation even if I tried. We don’t even play music which is kind of weird. But good too. The club where we were at tonight ruined my favorite song anyway.
Only three other cars fill the parking lot. Flooded with artificial light, bright and welcoming for shoppers anytime of the day or night. Or exposing them to all their sins they want to hide from in the darkness.
I guess I sit for too long since she puts the gear in park and turns off the engine. She clears her throat and pats my trembling arm. The amethyst stone in her high school class ring so innocent and clear. Just like I used to be. “Do you want me to go with you?”
Yes, please. I don’t want to be alone. “No, I’m good. But thanks.”
We both know I’m lying but she doesn’t argue and I don’t let myself beg her to come along. I keep the mask on, portraying the flawless straight-A sorority girl cheerleader I’ve always been, and slide out of the seat. Forcing myself not to cringe or whimper. Because no one can ever know that I’m not perfect any more.
Itoss the black crystal fob into the valet’s outstretched hand. Not even bothering to threaten him about what I’ll do if my One-77 comes back scratched. No need. Although I’ve never seen the kid before, the young guy’s already trembling.
He nods furiously. Wild brown curls bouncing from the force. His wide-eyed gaze flits from me to the Aston Martin and back again. Afraid, like I’ve actually spoken the warning out loud. Warned, I guess, by his boss to fear me. Everyone here frightened of my wrath. As they should be.
“N-no worries Mr. Sabatini. I’ll take good care of her…” He swipes at the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his hand. Embarrassed by his misstep. “…I mean it…the c-car for you.”
Funny how much I used to love that shit. Stuttering and stumbling to appease me. Which stoked my already inflated ego. Fuck yes he should be scared. But right now I’m too furious to answer or care. I’ve got much bigger issues to deal with. Zeke’s fucked up, and he’s going to realize how much when I find him.
I stride between the massive pecan doors, winding between the four floating fireplaces in the expansive lobby, and down the wide, gray-toned hallway to the bar. Pride wells up in my tight chest despite my irritation. My first hotel and still my favorite after all these years. A complete dump when I bought the property. Stalled in sales and travel site rankings. With a lame ass bland 80’s atmosphere that no one had ever bothered to update. So that was my primary priority, and I sunk every penny I had at the time into the project. Taking an enormous risk with all the money I actually earned myself rather than inherited from my father to create an experience that actually makes staying at my place better than your own house.
Ignoring the advice of the haughty decorators arguing for a neutral décor, I went with my gut instead. All chrome and glass with blasts of red, silver, and black. Overstuffed sofas and abundant leather ottomans instead of plastic tables and metal chairs. All the open areas just an extension of your room. Grab a whiskey, prop up your feet, and relax. Even if it’s only for fifteen minutes while your boss checks his messages or the kids nap or your wife blows out her hair. You’re away from home, and because of me, you’re going to fucking enjoy every second of the trip.
Only took six months to earn the reputation of the premier resort in the area. I have the magic touch. So I bought another and another until I was competing against myself. Now my properties hold the number one spots in the business, romance, and family categories. All of which provide the perfect cover for my family’s real business. Thousands of people visiting my lodges every day. Bringing in and taking out everything we need to rule this fucking city.
And I’m not going to let my formerly best captain ruin my success. I pause in the doorway of the bistro and glance around the warm space. About half of the club chairs are filled as happy hour quickly approaches. Not at all pleased. Stupid fucker’s late. Again. And some dark-haired goddess sits in my usual spot at the bar.
I’ll admit she’s spectacular. Sophisticated in her white dress that’s completely modest yet sexy as hell. Silky fabric covers every inch of her full breasts and narrow thighs down to her knees. Yet the luxurious material smooths over her luscious curves more sensual than lingerie. Standing out like a siren even in this opulent setting.
Yet, her confidence draws me to her even more than her body. Unlike most women who would be restless in their insecurity from sitting alone, she conveys an assured ease. Relaxed and carefree, sipping a dark wine. The claret as rich as her lipstick. She doesn’t look around for company or attempt to alleviate her uncertainty by playing on her phone. Just enjoys her drink.
I march up to her like a tyrant. She must not know who the fuck I am. “You’re in my seat.”
Now that I’m closer I can tell what a classic beauty she really is. Sure, make-up covers her flawless face, and loose curls, perfectly coiled from some kind of styling tool, spiral down her slender back. Bare except for a hint of sparkle floating over smooth skin. Fucking stunning. But underneath all that, she’s naturally gorgeous. Smells fucking great too from some expensive perfume wafting over her.
