Page 85 of The CEO's Revenge

I take a deep breath. No, I won’t give myself the luxury of wallowing in self-pity.

I have to get out of here. Right now. I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do, but nothing can be as bad as this. I stand up and go to my wardrobe. I pull out a duffle bag and throw in some clothes and my makeup bag. Then I put slid in my laptop and my cell phone charger. I move to the bedroom door and stand listening. I can hear Mom and Dan talking in the living room. If I’m quiet, I can get to the bathroom and back without them noticing.

I sneak to the bathroom and grab my toothbrush, half a tube of toothpaste, my deodorant, a razor and a bottle of shampoo. It’ll have to do. I sneak back to my bedroom and pull a brush through my hair. I toss it into the bag. I put my coat in the bag and zip it up.

I open the tiny drawer in my nightstand and pull out the little amount of money I’ve managed to save. I count the money. I have a grand total of one hundred and twenty-two dollars and fifty-three cents. It’s not going to do much for me, but I’m going to have to make this work. I put the money in my pocket and straighten up. I pick up the duffle bag, take a deep breath and leave my bedroom for the last time. I make my way down the hallway to the kitchen. My mom hears me and looks up. She nudges Dan and they both sit looking at me. Dan is now bleary eyed and holding a bottle of what I think might be rum. He takes a swig as he looks at me.

“Well?” my mom says. “Are you ready to apologize?”

“Yes,” I say. “Dan, I’m sorry you’re a fucking rapist who blames everyone around him for his actions. Mom, I’m genuinely sorry for whatever happened in your life to make you think this is the life you deserve.”

Then I turn and leave the trailer, leaving Mom and Dan staring after me with open mouths. I’ve officially burnt my last bridge there, but that’s alright. I’d sooner die on the streets than go back into that hell hole.

Chapter Four

Amelia

I have been desperately walking the streets since I left the trailer. I swear I’ve been into every business I’ve passed, practically begging them for work, but it’s the same old story everywhere. They’re either not hiring or they tell me to send in my resume. I feel like curling up in the gutter and crying my burning eyes out…

But I won’t do that. Or go back to the trailer.

I’ll make it or I’ll die trying.

Sure, it’s been three hours, I’m no closer to finding a job than I was at Dan’s place, and I’ve discovered the tiny amount of money I have would pay for two nights in a cheap motel. I have no intention of using it up like that.

I try to think where I can go. Lucy’s place is out of the question. Her parents are super strict about having people staying over. Maybe if I told her mom what happened, she would let me stay, but knowing her she’d probably want to call the cops and social services and God knows who else. I don’t want that.

I don’t want anybody thinking ill about my mother. No matter what she ismymother and I’ll never betray her.

I don’t really have any other close friends. Sure I have a few acquaintances, girls I hang out with now and again, but I can’t just turn up at their doorstep and ask them to house me until I sort my shit out.

I scrunch my forehead and try to think of my options. Obviously, I had colleagues at work and did get quite close to some of them. If I had to guess Jason might put me up for the night, but the truth is I really don’t know him well enough to lay my problems on him. He might even have a girlfriend by now. The more I think about it, the more I shake off the idea. I’ve been ghetto Amelia and trailer trash Amelia for too long. I’m not going to let myself become slutty Amelia or seductress Amelia.

No, I’m on my own with this one.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts as a door opens in front of me and a drunken man stumbles out. He gives me a lopsided grin and I shrink back, but he just stumbles along on his way. I have to stop thinking everyone is like Dan. I look at the door the man stumbled out of. The Pink Flamingo. It’s a bar and the biggest dives around here. Always full of people drinking too much too early. And fights like you wouldn’t believe.

I can’t help but look at the sign taped to the door. Help Wanted. I’ve seen it already since I’ve been past this place twice already.

I’m just going in circles now, figuratively and literally.

This is the one place I haven’t been to. I mean do I really want to work in a place like this? The answer is no. I most definitely don’t. But it’s starting to seem like it might be my only option, and anyway it can’t be much worse than what I just left.

Maybe this bar and I are a good fit.

Maybe we deserve each other. We’re both at the bottom of the barrel. We’re both the thing people come to when they’re all out of other options. Maybe working here won’t be as bad as I think.

I lean against the steamed up window for a moment and think about it. If I can get a job here I might make enough money to rent a little studio apartment, but even better if I stick it out for a few months and get some experience, I might be able to find a new job in a decent place. I think for another few minutes, pretending to myself like I have another option, but I don’t.

This is my last shot.

I push myself off the window, take a deep breath and push the door open. A cloud of humid heat hits me. The place is heaving and everyone looks drunk. The tables and booths are all taken and several people mill around in groups, standing in the open spaces around the place.

The bar is crowded too and even from here I can hear people screaming, they’re next. The jukebox is playing in the background; a country song I don’t recognize. It’s barely audible over the sound of drunken laughter, conversation, and shouts.

Well, they all sure look happy. Actually, very happy.

No one is fighting or arguing. No one looks like they don’t want to be here. In fact, everyone seems to be having a great time except the harried looking waitress who pushes through the crowd with a tray loaded down with drinks. I could do that, I tell myself.

---