Page 23 of The Rich One

Slowly, I sit up and swing my legs to the side of the bed, my head hanging low. It feels like I’ve got the motherload of all hangovers but in reality, I’m not a drinker when bad shit happens to me. Though, to be honest, sometimes I wish I were so maybe I could forget shit, even if for a little while. But I don’t because I need to have a clear head to over-analyze every detail of what happened to me. I have to look at it all from every angle so that next time, I’m prepared. I’mbetterprepared.

With a heaving sigh, I lift myself up to my full height and stretch my arms up above my head reveling in the feel of my cracking spine. Getting an appointment with my chiropractor should probably be on my list of priorities.

But first, I need to shower.

On my way to the bathroom, I grab the phone that’s been sitting, dead to the world like me, on my nightstand. Pressing the side button, it still doesn't come to life which can only mean the battery is dead, which makes sense. It’s not like I’ve taken the time to charge it since I’ve been back.

With my charger in hand, I plug it into the wall of the bathroom and sit on the toilet as I listen to the endless pings echoing in the small space.

It’s my work phone, so the messages are mostly from the private app I have set up for my clients. Their secret identities secure, they message me with a code and that code corresponds to a person in my files.

I pee, I wipe, I wash my hands and the fucking thing is still pinging away. I suppose I’ll be playing catch up for a while.

Once my hands are dry, I put in all the security codes and numbers before I can actually see what the fuck is happening.

Tyler has called twenty-three times and left as many text messages. The last one is frantic, telling me he’s about to call the police but he doesn’t have my real name, which is a problem when filing a missing person’s report.

He’s angry and I find myself relieved that someone actually noticed my absence.

Kai.

I glance toward my room where my private phone lies silent. I didn’t turn it off but I’m guessing the battery is dead after… I look at the date and realize I’ve been holed up for a week.

Jesus.

A week of self-care and healing is apparently what I needed.

My thoughts go back to that night and as if on cue, my eyes travel straight to the inside of my thigh where a patch of missing skin has been replaced by a lump of crust. I may have been out of it for the last week but I was lucid enough to clean and disinfect my wound. My body is my greatest commodity. My money maker. I can’t work if I’m scarred beyond redemption.

Goddammit.

Tyler is going to notice, of course. And I’d be an idiot to think he’ll wait another week to see me.

I call him first so he’ll stop worrying.

I barely hear the first ring before he answers. His voice is tight, severe, like he’s trying his best to reel himself in.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll be right back.”

Did he just leave a meeting to answer my call? This is going to be bad, I can feel it.

I hear the slam of a door and then his voice again. This time there’s a gentle undertone.

“Rose. Are you alright?” I can almost hear all the things he doesn’t say.

I’ve been worried.

Where have you been?

Are you hurt?

He can’t actually ask all of those questions, it’s not what we’re about. I don’t owe him my private life but I feel like I should ease his mind anyway.

“I’m fine, Tyler. I’m sorry I haven’t answered my phone. The battery died.” It’s the truth.

“For a week?” There’s the boardroom king.

“It’s… complicated. But I promise, I’m fine now.” My gaze is fixed on the mirror while I try to convince Tyler that I haven’t been a broken pile of nothingness for the past seven days. Taking inventory of my appearance, I wince at the mess in front of me. My eyes are puffy from the crying, my skin is ashy, my hair a flat, lifeless mop on top of my head.

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