Page 96 of Shattered
I shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
He ushered me inside, and I glanced around. The place was cluttered, styrofoam takeout containers stacked on the counter, cigarette stubs spilling out of an ashtray, and a blanket spread on the floor covering something up. The total disarray was familiar. But Jake and I came from different backgrounds, and the woman who had once lived like that wasn’t inside of me anymore. He unfolded a plastic chair for me and took the open chair near the card table.
“So what’s up?” he asked. “How you been?”
“I’ve been thinking about you,” I said. It was misleading, but there was no real point in saving his feelings anymore. After this, I would never see him again. “Everyone wonders where you went.”
His eyes dimmed. He bobbed his head to himself. “The chef’s been giving me free food,” he said. “Leftovers and what not. I figured you would have found me sooner.”
I shook my head. “She kept your secret well.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling down at himself. “Listen, whatever you do, don’t let Kendall go to the cops.”
“Kendall?” I asked. “That new server I fought?”
“She said I raped her or something,” he said, “Threatened to go to the cops. Only she begged for it. But you know, only some people get that.”
“And not Kendall,” I said, hiding my clenched fist.
“Not her.”
I shook my head. Jake didn’t only have a pattern; he had a bad habit.
“Did you drug her?” I asked.
“I told her that I was giving her an extra-strong drink, Mel. She didn’t care.”
“Extra-strong drink does not translate into Rohypnol.”
“She made her own damn choice to drink,” he snapped.
“But you did that to me too,” I said. “I had no idea you put Rohypnol in it.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. He didn’t deny the accusation then. Wehadbeen drugged. “You passed out while we were drinking, but youknewyou were drinking. It’s not my fault if you can’t handle it.”
I shook my head, the rage inside of me making me hot. “Do you like screwing us like that? When we can barely even move?” I slammed a hand into the chair underneath me. “Dead fish, Jake? Is that what you like?”
“You’re not dead fish,” he smirked. “All of you swear like you never liked it. But trust me. You remembered my dick every time. You just needed a little help from a roofie.”
I shook my head. “Whatever,” I said, trying hard to not let my anger get the better of me. Resorting to violence right now wouldn’t help anything, especially with Rourke waiting for me.
“I can show you,” he said. “Let me get you a drink. We’ll record it. We can make sure you remember this time. We’ll watch the playback together.”
“Why not?” I said through my teeth.
He went to the kitchen, talking to himself. “See, it’s just a little pill. Crush it up, dissolve—”
I slipped on a disposable glove, then pulled the bundle of ropes out of my purse, placing it underneath his couch.
“What’s going on?” he asked, walking over to me.
I stood up quickly. “Dropped my phone,” I said. “On second thought, I can’t do it tonight, but maybe another time.”
“Seriously?” He held up his hands. “You’re ditching out on me again?”
Again? “You were the one who ran away,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Fine,” he said. He opened his arms for a hug, and I cringed inwardly, but I hugged him back, with all of my might, trying to pretend like I didn’t care about any of the things that he had done. Because one last hug was worth it, for what would come tomorrow.
