Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
“I do need to coddle her because a, it’s not coddling, it’s called being cautious. And b, she has a heart condition and if we do want her to live, being cautious is the only way.”
“You’re so responsible now, aren’t you?”
“If by that you mean I know that a coffee table isn’t an ashtray,” I retort, giving in to the urge to provoke her, “then, yes I am.”
At my words, she sneers and her face turns into something cruel and ugly. “If you’re such a big girl, how come you’re out of a job?”
“What?”
She shakes her head at me. “Went to the strip club to ask around about you but apparently you don’t work there anymore.”
No, I don’t. Which is why I have the evening free.
I thought about it afterwards, about what he did, how he had me fired because he talked to George before I could. As in, I thought about it the next day lying under the covers in my bed while Snow kept coming to check on me because she thought I was sick. I told her that. I told her that was why I was staying home that day. Because I’d come down with something. It was a lie, but it wasn’t hard to believe, because it did look like I had come down with something. My eyes were all puffy and my nose was red. Plus I felt and looked so weak that it seemed like I could fall apart any second.
In any case, along with his black leather shoes, getting me fired was probably another bullet point on his long checklist of things to do. It wasn’t a secret to him that I never liked that job. It made me feel unsafe. I only did it out of necessity. He also knew that if he broke things off with me, like he was planning on, I wouldn’t quit it. So he made sure to have me fired. He also made sure that I don’t ever go back to it because I did call George when I could—a couple of days later—and he literally hung up on me. God knows, what he said to my old boss to make him so scared.
And I know, while on the outside it looks all cruel and assholish, he did all that to help me. In his own twisted way. Which is so very strange because he hates me now but also so very like him.
My safe space made of thorns.
“No, I don’t,” I confirm.
And Mom doesn’t like that. “Now, what are you thinking? That was your highest paying job. How are you going to take care of your sister now? How are you going to keep this roof over your head, let alone deal with all the medical bills and everything else?”
Turns out, I don’t have to.
Because another thing on his checklist was to pay off my debts. Yeah, he did that too. Along with getting me out of my unsafe job, he paid all of my debt. All 102,327 dollars. This, I found out two days later, after my call to George. It left me panicked and I went online to check the state of my finances. But according to the person I’d called to talk to about this crazy turn of events, my debt was settled the same day everything fell apart. So basically, another bullet point. And I wish I could say I don’t get it but I do. I so, so do.
He did to help me. He did it because of our connection. He did it despite me sullying that connection. Despite me lying and betraying him. He probably hates that connection now. As much as he hates me.
I don’t blame him.
I just wish I could say thank you. I could go to him and tell him that he changed my life. He made it better. He made everything better. And that I love him. I fell in love with him—or rather, realized how much I love him—while riding his boot. Something he made me do so he could humiliate me and exact his revenge for me being a lying bitch.
“I didn’t like that job,” I tell my mother, and she narrows her eyes at me. “I hated it. I hated taking orders from the drunk assholes who thought just because I was smiling at them for big tips, I was asking for it. They all looked at me like I was not a waitress but a whore. That job made me feel unsafe, Mom. It made me feel trapped. Like I had no choice.”
Such an interesting word, whore, isn’t it? Derogatory in most cases but freeing in others. While the rest of the world made me feel like a whore in a demeaning way, him calling me that felt like freedom. It felt like I could give wings to my desire for him. I could feel filthy things for him but still not actually feel filthy. Still not feel anything but beautiful in his arms.