chapter 22
There was already a line in front of the venue when we arrived, three hours prior to doors opening. Jack had to do a sound check and an abbreviated final run through. Lexy's name was on the marquee above the venue and Jack grinned when he noticed it.
We pulled up behind the venue, entering from a side door that was off-limits to concert-goers. There was a long alley behind the building, one that was fairly desolate and industrial given the part of town we were in.
Jack left me in the lounge as he readied himself for the night, privy to all sorts of tasty snacks and DIY cocktails. I poured myself a rum and Coke and got comfortable.
The primary A&R person at the label, Karla, showed up shortly after I did. She was a couple years older than me, pretty and fiercely enthusiastic, her auburn hair usually styled differently every day. Tonight, it was straightened and flowing along her bare shoulders. I was glad to see someone else in a dress.
We joked around about work stuff, the muffled roar of the sound check in the background as we talked. "This is gonna be awesome," Karla said, as excited as she always was. I didn't know how she did it. Caffeine abuse, maybe?
"I'm really excited too." It was no lie. I had been to shitty shows before, and this was no shitty show.
"A bunch of stuck-up press people are gonna be here too. I can't stand those a*sholes."
I nodded, not really sure what to say.
"You just wait. Someone will drag Jack through the mud just to be cool, to be controversial and edgy. He'll be furious when he reads the scathing review, and then ten seconds later, he'll be over it."
I nodded. "Oh, yeah. He told me about those people."
"They'll all stand back here sipping cocktails, acting like they really give a damn. But it's just because pretending to give a damn is their job. Anyway, I should shut up. Let's just have a good time. More drinks?"
I was okay with that.
We continued to drink until Jack came back and joined us with Lexy and the rest of the band. She sat down beside Karla and me, pouring herself a bourbon on the rocks.
Everyone was goofing around and having a good time backstage. I didn't get every inside joke, but I was okay with that. And thankfully, no one was doing any drugs.
Jack sat next to me, but only for a short while. When he got up to make me a fancy cocktail, everyone else noticed and collectively asked him for their own fancy drinks. Jack just groaned and laughed, turning back to the bottles of liquor and getting to work.
Everyone served, he sat back down and relaxed. "I might be too tired to perform now."
"I hope that's not the case when we get home tonight," I whispered in his ear. He gave me a wicked smile and said nothing further.
The party continued until finally, it was show time. Jack stood up and hugged me. "Here we go," he said happily.
"Figuratively break a leg," I said, my words a little slurred from the alcohol. I was drunker than I had intended, but then again, Jack was the one feeding me the drinks.
Karla and I walked back out to the venue ahead of the band—I had somehow managed to convince her to join me in the seats—I was amazed when we didn't see a single open seat in the house outside of the front row that was roped off for us. A total transformation from the empty interior we had seen earlier.
Everyone was laughing and talking, all excited to see the main event: Lexy Brown featuring The Jack Teller Band.
I didn't pay to get in like they did, but that didn't mean I was any less thrilled about the show. I couldn't believe how many photographers were there, scrambling around at the front of the stage to try to get the best possible photo for whatever their hip publication was.
The stage lights dropped, and then Lexy walked out alone, acoustic guitar in hand, gushing sex appeal. I joined the roar of the crowd, ecstatic about being there for this moment. She did the first song solo, and then as she strummed the final chord, a guitar lead broke out, one that made the audience even wilder.
It was the single—and they were crazy about it.
Bright lights exploded across the stage as Jack and band joined her. I almost choked on my drink as Jack sprang to life, not unlike a super hero on that stage. I rarely saw him practice guitar, and here he was, strumming away like a pro. His adroit fingers could do it anything, it seemed.
The bass drum rocked the whole theater as everyone joined in. I had never seen a more enthusiastic backing band in my life. Jack switched back and forth between guitar and keyboard duties depending on the song. It didn't matter what he played; he was great. He sang backing vocals too, his voice familiar from my brief foray into his hidden catalog.
They played through a long, full set, the only band on the schedule for tonight. Lexy had such a huge variety of songs so early in her career. Yeah, it felt like I was watching a seasoned veteran of the industry, not some beginner that Jack was just launching at this very show.
He definitely knew talent when he saw it. Paired with his own abilities, I knew Lexy was going to be unstoppable.
The band ripped through emotional highs and lows, tender moments, and moments of unremitting rock 'n' roll. Karla and I had a great time watching, dancing occasionally, spouting off compliments that only we heard.
"Jack is so f*cking awesome," she shouted at me more than once.
"I know!" It was my very likely inaudible answer each and every time.
I was so captivated that I lost track of time, lost track of the world. I was totally absorbed by this experience. Going on tour sounded like a blast, especially if every night was anything like this. It wasn't clear whether it would still be as fun after a month straight, but I didn't need to worry about that right now.
"I want to thank everyone for coming out. And I especially want to thank Jack Teller. This is our last song."
The crowd roared and I joined in again. Jack gave me an award-winning smile and then started their last song. When it was over, the crowd wouldn't shut up and there wound up being two encores. Honestly, I became as much of a screaming fan as everyone else in that audience. Like them, I wanted more too!
Finally, they finished and departed the stage. The crowd slowly started clearing out behind us, and due to our position in the VIP area, the security left us alone. My heart pounded as I realized the genesis I had witnessed. This was a huge day for Lexy and a huge weekend for Jack and me. The energy in the room was almost a tangible thing, something I could hold in my fingers.
Lexy eventually came out from the back and was flooded by desperate stragglers looking for an autograph. Security tried to herd them out, but they were relentless. Lexy seemed appreciative, however, and signed whatever was thrust in front of her.
Jack met us on the side of the stage, motioning for us to follow back to the lounge area again.
"How was I?" he asked as I approached him.
I ran up and hugged him, unable to contain my excitement at all. "F*cking hot."
"You're the superficial one! God." He stroked my hair gently.
"You were awesome and talented and brilliant and all that other stuff." I kissed his cheek, the saltiness of his sweat immediately apparent.
Karla stood behind us, acting like she was peeved about our public display of affection. "Is there a problem, Karla?" Jack asked jokingly. I slid to his side, remaining attached to his waist the whole time I moved.
"I'm just fine, Jack. And damn good job out there. Haven't seen a better show in ages."
"NYC's finest," he said with a nod. "And now the album is gonna blow up and make us all rich."
"I hope," Karla mumbled. "I'm gonna go get more drinks and act like I care what the bloggers have to say."
Jack laughed and smiled as she walked away. "Do you want to party more?" he asked.
I was exhausted, but I didn't want to say anything that might ruin his big night. This was Lexy's premiere show, and I wanted it to be whatever he wanted it to be. "I might have one more drink."
"We won't stay too long," he said, as if he had read the quiet tumult of my mind. "A lot of work to do tomorrow. And we still have that unfinished business tonight." He hungrily stared at my cleavage and I accepted his glare.
"Never subtle, Jack Teller."
"That's just the way I like it." He pulled the sweaty mat of hair out of his eyes and led us back to the lounge.
It was packed with more people than before the show, and with the inclusion of the very sweaty band members became excessively hot. I had one more drink and clung to Jack's arm, meeting random person after person whom Jack gave me the inside scoop about after they walked away. He didn't seem to trust them much, and I guess with his history, I could understand why.
"Do you want to get going soon?" he asked me during a lull in the action.
"Yeah, if we can." I was feeling genuinely burned out and over stimulated by that point. It was fast approaching one in the morning and no one else looked like they were about to slow down.
"Let me say a couple of quick goodbyes, and then we'll get out of here."
I smiled and kissed his cheek. "Okay. I'm going to go get some air in the alley."
"Just a couple of minutes," he said. "I'll call the limo in a second.
Somehow I escaped that room and crept out into the hallway, retracing the steps I had taken when I arrived. Karla had been the only person I waved to, but she had been tied up in several conversations and missed my polite closing gesture.
The alley was calm and deserted, the night breeze cooling me immediately. Sweat quickly chilled on my brow and reminded me that I should have brought a jacket. Friday night was in full bloom, and in NYC, the party would go all night. We were definitely bailing out early, but with our plans tomorrow, it was a necessary evil.
"Help me!"
What the f*ck? I heard some screaming, a sound that was unmistakably human, but bordered on sounding like an animal. I couldn't figure out if it was male or female. My curiosity got the best of me and I tiptoed forward, tracking the source of the sound. Did someone really need help?
I was cautious, concerned that I might be about to witness something horrible and needed to remain out of view. I wrestled my cell phone out of my purse, dialing 911 and resting my finger just above the call button in case I needed it.
Adrenaline spilled through my body in surges, electrifying my heart beat as I tried to remain calm. Something told me I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just stood by and let something terrible happen. It was probably just a drunken bum who had fallen over and wanted attention, but I still had to check. What if it was an old man having a heart attack or something? Someone that needed an ambulance called?
What if someone died due to my inaction? We weren't in a bad part of town, so it was probably no big deal, whatever it was.
The corner led into another smaller alley, one that wasn't lit like the one I was already in. I gave myself some distance from the wall and kept inching forward, my phone clutched like a sword. All I could hear was the hum of cars in the distance, the scream no longer present. I hoped someone hadn't already died.
When my head peeked around the edge, I saw nothing but black—literally.
I struggled as a nylon sack covered my eyes. My hands forced against the wall, I couldn't keep my fingers around my phone. It fell and settled with a sickening crack—and I immediately recalled the last time I had dropped the damn thing. Now I was really in trouble. The assailant didn't seem to notice the inadvertent destruction and remained focused on the task at hand.
A pair of very strong arms dragged me farther into the alley, stopping after there was some distance between us and the first alley. He slammed me up against the wall with a thud. "Help!" I screamed. A hand covered my mouth through the sack, muffling any further sounds. If he kept my mouth covered, it was unlikely that anyone would notice us from outside of the alley.
I was f*cked.
"Don't scream again or I'll f*cking kill you!" A knife lightly cut into my arm, just a nick, a reminder that he had the upper hand in every possible way. My eyes started watering, the pain amplified by the sheer terror I was experiencing. Although the adrenaline did numb the sensation, the cut—which proved that the knife existed—only served to inform me that I was in genuine trouble.
The first thing that hit my mind was Timothy. Had he plotted out his revenge, waiting until this big night to take action? My mind was running at a thousand miles per hour. Was he about to kill me for not returning to his side? I thought of every crazy killer in every horror movie, all of them blurring together and somehow inhabiting the body of my attacker.
Why the f*ck had I posted the Facebook event on my own wall? Yeah, that was how Timothy found me. What was he about to do with me? F*cking social media! It was so stupid. I vowed to never use it again, vowed to never—
"You f*cking cunt," the voice said, unnaturally low. "You f*cked up my life and now I'm going to f*ck up yours."
Whomever the voice belonged to wasn't speaking in their normal range, and that was clear to me. The voice kept caroming in my head as my heart beat out of control. Why would Timothy think that attacking me would solve any problems? What would he gain from hurting me?
But was that voice really Timothy's? If it wasn't him, then who the f*ck was it? My mind was fragmented, disjointed as it tried to put anything together at light speed. There was no time for hesitation.
Who the f*ck was attacking me? My dress tore and uncomfortably cool air tickled my thighs. Oh God, I know where this is going.
It didn't matter who was attacking me. Being attacked was being attacked. I had to survive this, to keep myself together until it was over. Jack would be on his way soon, he had to be.
There was a pulsing hardness against my thigh, a disgusting, vile, repulsive thing. The assailant's cock was already out, pressed against my bare skin as he forced me against the wall even harder. He ripped my panties off my body, literally tearing that seemingly flimsy material to provide him full access.
I couldn't figure it out. It had to be someone I knew based on what he said, and it seemed so f*cking simple. It was probably Timothy; that was all I had.
Time was moving at warp speed while my mind crawled along. I instantly thought about how incredible life had been only a few minutes prior. I was about to move in with Jack, the man I wanted more than any other man on the planet. The man as perfect for me as I was for him.
Who the f*ck was this man? He was a f*cking thief, someone trying to take something from me that wasn't related to money at all. Why had I made this mistake? Why had I put myself in jeopardy like this?
His hardness kept crawling up my leg, my accompanying fear no different than if it were a snake about to deliver a fatal bite. I was out of breath as outward choked sobs dominated my compressed windpipe. I couldn't see anything and that made my mind invent horrible images all around me.
Jack, please...
I couldn't let it go all the way. I had to stop him. I fought, writhing against the wall, doing my best to ensure that I couldn't be penetrated. The rumble of a car passing by in the alley was all the more prominent due to my deprived sense of sight. At least that was going well for me.
Was it the limo? Jack had to be nearby. But even if he was, he had no reason to check here. The likely places I would have wandered were in the opposite direction since the venue was near an adjacent street with bars and restaurants. Too late was approaching really fast.
Oh yeah, I was f*cked.
The smell of liquor—whiskey, more specifically—spilled into my nostrils as I continued to fight. Alcoholic piece of shit! I knew my efforts were futile because there was no way in hell I could overpower this bastard. He was strong—and overly motivated. I didn't give up though, and he had to release his hand over my mouth to forcibly shift my pelvis toward his.
"Mmm, it only makes me harder when you fight." The whiskey scent made me feel ill.
"Effie!" The scream was distant and somewhat muffled from my compromised position. "Where are you?" Even though I could hear it—which meant it had to be nearby—the scream sounded miles away.
It was definitely Jack—and he was definitely looking for me. I shrieked in response, a desperate cry that abruptly ended—a balled up fist struck my head, jarring the world just as it had before, punishment for my indiscretion. The world shook while Jack's tiny voice continued to echo in my head.
"You f*cking bitch! I told you to keep your f*cking mouth shut!" The knife slashed into my forearm, the flesh cut like it was butter. Blood started oozing down the front of my body as I realized how bad this had become. From bad to worse in mere seconds.
Oh God, his erection was pumping with the raised tempo of his heartbeat...
I was bleeding and helpless, dragged away in an alley, hidden from the man I loved while he was probably suffering through his own horrid panic attack. I obviously didn't want to be raped, but then again, being raped was better than being dead.
Rationalizing the situation made me realize that I was indeed giving up. Even if Jack found me, I could have fatal wounds before he even got to us. Maybe if I just gave in and stopped fighting, I'd wind up okay. This a*shole would do his business and leave me alone. I couldn't see him anyway, so what risk was there for him?
Well, other than being identified by his semen...
The thought of my attacker's release brought about a plague of nausea, and I tried my hardest to suppress it. Filling this nylon bag with vomit wasn't going to help me get through this at all, even if everything about it was horrifying and disgusting.
I started to relax, the attacker's body language instantly responding. "I knew you wanted it the whole time, you f*cking whore."
I wanted to say something and defend my honor, but instead my teeth clenched together nervously on my tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, reminding me that my arm was bleeding as well.
It would all be over soon. It would all be over soon...
I kept silently repeating the phrase to myself as I fought to get air into my lungs. He was inches away now, ready to slip that wretched, throbbing thing inside of me...
Then I heard it—the high-pitched trilling sound of my stupid stock techno ringtone that I hadn't bothered to switch. Jack always laughed about it when he heard it, saying that I should never change it due to how cheesy it was.
Thank you, Jack...
I couldn't tell if it was actually that clear in the night or if it was due to my hearing being more keen in this survival situation. At the very least, it was far enough away that the whole operation here would have to be seriously disrupted to silence it. I could run if he went to stop it.
The ringing would have to get someone's attention.
"F*cking f*ck," the attacker snarled, the tone both familiar and unfamiliar. I could tell he was debating further smashing the phone. But before he moved, the sound stopped—and my hope died again.
"F*cking phone." He repositioned his body and forced himself toward me again—and the ringing resumed. Oh yeah, Jack was definitely searching for me.
"Effie? Effie!" I heard, the sound actually growing louder.
With my last burst of strength, I pulled away and screamed again. "Jack!"
That not-so-friendly fist struck my face again, the response purely instinctive by the man I hated more than any other. The world started to fade as I felt the ground with the side of my head.
Would my misbehavior warrant a fatal stabbing?
"What the f*ck?" It was Jack, and it was also the failed rapist, their voices rising simultaneously. There was the sound of metal on metal and then a garbage can crashed against the wall. A struggle was in progress. I heard Jack cry out in pain, the sound causing me to wither. I should have screamed out and told him there was knife, should have spoken...
But then, I heard the clink of the knife hitting the ground and I realized I might need to get involved.
My consciousness returning, I ripped the bag off my head in time to catch Jack shove the other man into the ground, viciously pounding his ski-masked face with his fists.
The knife was near my feet and I grabbed it, clenching the handle so tight I thought I might bend the metal between my fingers. I wanted to stab that scumbag, wanted to cut him into pieces—but killing him didn't feel like it would fix anything.
Jack kept pounding and pounding, the man literally crushed by his intensity, moving less and less with every subsequent blow. I could see an animalistic fury inside of Jack, his eyes illuminated with pure terror. I saw flashing lights in the alleyway as police cars arrived on the scene.
"Jack, stop!" I grabbed at him, trying to prevent him from committing murder just as the police arrived. He wasn't going to stop, no, not until this guy's heart quit. The police were shouting, trying to figure out where we were. I couldn't have Jack take this too far.
He responded to my touch, controlling himself, tears forming in his eyes. His chest heaved as he fought for air in sync with me. "Oh God, Effie," he cried out, hugging me, his eyes noticing my torn dress and mangled panties on the ground along with my bleeding arm and the pool of blood beneath where I had been against the wall. "How could I let this happen to you? I could have called the police. I could have told them that Timothy might try to hurt you. What he did was more than enough for a restraining order."
"It's not your fault," I said, starting to sob myself. Still, despite my weakness, something didn't add up.
"God, you're bleeding. We need a f*cking ambulance!"
After he said it, I noticed his side was bleeding, his shirt torn and stained at the site of the cut. "Oh my God, you're cut too." I held him close, trying not to touch the wounded part of him.
"I went back in to say goodbye to those people I don't even f*cking care about. Just those stupid, hipster a*sholes that only exist to make my life a living hell." He was so shattered, so devastated by what he had uncovered here. "And f*ck you!" Jack kicked the fallen assailant in the gut, the body barely responding to the strike. I hoped he hadn't actually killed him.
"I almost lost you again, and I'm so sorry. It'll never happen again. I f*cking swear on my life."
There was nothing I could say in that moment to make him feel any less like it was his fault. Only time would heal his emotional wounds. I knew that clearly, but it wouldn't be so easy for him to accept.
Jack leaned forward with shared morbid curiosity and pulled off the ski mask—and we both almost fainted.
The man was still breathing and he wasn't Timothy. It was Sam.
***
The trip to the hospital was quick. Besides my nearly fainting when we uncovered Sam, I had lost a fair amount blood and, paired the with the sudden drop in adrenaline after I was safe, was actually starting to get woozy by the time the ambulance arrived. Lexy and some of the band members followed us to the hospital, agreeing to stick around until the doctors told us that Jack and I were okay. It had shaken them up almost as much as it had us.
Sam was handcuffed, and left in the back of the police cruiser, his eyes puffy and squinted. Jack had beaten him unconscious and he hadn't come to until he was inside the car, away from us. His face had been battered and bruised, bloody and obliterated. I was glad Jack hadn't killed him, even if I hated his guts with every cell of my body.
Why had he blamed me for his misfortune?
I knew that voice had sounded familiar, that faked, bullshit, scumbaggy threatening tone he had used. Fear had made me unable to think straight, unable to make the proper connections. I had been so afraid, and when I thought about a man attacking me, I could only think of Timothy—especially since Timothy had been the only man that had ever attacked me before tonight.
The alcohol should have been a dead giveaway since Timothy didn't drink hard stuff like that. He might have changed now but given his previous aversion to the stuff, it seemed highly unlikely.
Suddenly, I was confronting memories of Sam head on, that fateful night when I had run into him outside my apartment. He had been stalking me, I was sure of it now. How could I be so foolish and believe that he just randomly wound up in my part of town? I wondered just how extensive his surveillance had been.
It filled me with further disgust.
Thankfully, Jack's stab wound hadn't been deep, because it had been very close to his organs and could have easily wound up being fatal. My arm required stitches from the second cut and I had a black eye and serious headache from the punching. God, Sam was such a weak little man. At least Jack had returned the favor.
After we were x-rayed and cleaned up, the police got our statements, and I—between bouts of relentless sobbing—told them what had happened. Told them about losing my job and Sam overreacting. Told them about the false cry for help in the alley.
"What a coward," the cop had said after hearing about his shouting.
Jack and I both nodded in agreement, and then Jack told them his side of the story. He was so sullen, so depleted of his usual demeanor, like a car that had simply run out of fuel. I felt the same way. We were just hollow shells, free of any real personality as we retold the events in the numbest way possible, just exchanging information when we felt beyond emotional.
No matter what though, I felt stupid for checking in that alley, felt stupid for putting myself in such a potentially dangerous situation. Thankfully, no one was being critical of me—and it definitely helped me regain emotional stability.
"That guy has a record," the cop had said. "He's going to jail for a long time."
As it turned out, Sam had been stalking and aggressively forcing himself on a number of women over the years, which corresponded with HR's research. This time, he had gotten fixated with me, losing himself deeper and deeper in the world his mind had invented from scratch. He didn't have a wife, family, or anything else. Everything had been a lie with the intent of manipulating me.
Yeah, I met with HR, but I wasn't the first person to make the complaint. It had been everyone else. He had picked me out like a serial killer or something, observing me until he could make a move. And then things got messy and then this happened.
I imagined him, locked away in his room every night, counting down the days until Jack's big event, his hands clenched into fists, his veins bulging. It was clear that he was trying to hurt Jack as much as he was trying to hurt me. I was just lucky as hell that he hadn't succeeded. It made me want to sit down with him and ask him why.
Or, maybe not.
Honestly, with the newfound knowledge regarding Sam's criminal history, I worried that maybe he'd raped others as well, victimized women just like myself who didn't get so lucky. Maybe they could connect him to those crimes now and finally find justice for those poor, abused souls.
What would I have done if he'd actually raped me and then run off? I wouldn't have known who did it unless they could have identified him from the rape test. The thought made me feel sick again.
God, I was probably going to have nightmares from this failed attempt. I couldn't even imagine what the real thing would have been like.
F*ck you, Sam.
After the police left us alone, Jack turned to me, his expression so fragile. "It happened again." Everyone else was waiting outside for us, but he didn't seem to be concerned about them.
"Jack, it's okay. I'm okay. You're okay. He could have killed us, but he didn't."
"But I swore I wouldn't let it happen again. I swore I'd watch you better. I just got caught up in my own stupid world." His features were so tense, so clenched up as he coped with the mistake he believed he had made.
I felt something flare up inside of me, something powerful and borderline angry yet supportive. "Jack, snap out of it. You did save me. You're acting like the girls that blame themselves for getting raped just because they wore a skimpy dress. Sam was a f*cked up guy and he was probably planning this for a while. He lied to me, and now he did this." I hugged him, feeling weak, the tears resuming as I cried into his chest.
"Oh God, Effie," he said, his composure returning after witnessing my vulnerability. "I love you so much. That was so f*cked up. It's just hard to comprehend."
"I know," I moaned between shirt-muffled sobs. This was the first moment we'd had alone since the police and doctors had cleaned up the mess. "I love you so much too," I said remorsefully, like I felt bad for allowing myself to hurt him at all, even if it was totally outside of my control. Plus, the painkillers were making me extra emotional.
"We're gonna be fine," he said. "If we can survive this, we can survive anything together."
No matter how many mistakes we each thought we made, no matter how many ways we could have acted differently, he was right. I knew that I would probably forever scrutinize myself for walking toward that alley—Jack would have his own qualms as well—but then again, I did it because I was trying to be a good person, trying to help someone I believed was in need.
Could I really be mad at myself for trying to help someone else? That was ridiculous.
"Can we handle moving my stuff tomorrow?" I said, laughing in unison with my crying.
"I think we'll take a rain check on that. It's after five now. We need to f*cking sleep sometime."
Holy shit. He was right. It had indeed been all night. We should have stayed and partied.
"Can we do something weird?" I asked, struck with a sudden pang of hunger.
"What's that?" he asked, concerned look on his face.
"I want pancakes. Can we get diner food before we go to bed?"
He smiled huge. "Yeah, that sounds better than anything right now."
We checked out from the hospital and said our goodbyes to Jack's band mates. It was incredible that they had stuck around all night with us, trading their sleep for sitting around in a hospital.
Once again, it was clear why Jack had chosen them for his band. Although we invited them to breakfast, they all politely declined due to sleepiness, and that was just fine with us. I wanted to soak up Jack all alone, just like my pancakes would soak up butter and maple syrup.
And when the food arrived, bliss hit me like a drug and followed us home until we fell into a carb-induced slumber.
***
As expected, we skipped moving on Saturday, instead sleeping until late afternoon. Jack got up before me, but I wasn't sure how much earlier. I only knew because he was standing in the doorway when my eyes opened.
"I should call my parents," I said, the first words out of my mouth after achieving consciousness. "They'll hate me for telling them, but I have to. I want to." The decision felt somewhat impetuous and random, but I simply could not help it.
"Do it," Jack said, fiddling with his phone. He was shirtless, the bandage on his side a painful reminder of what we had just survived. He sat down next to me on the bed, my body still buried under blankets.
I don't know why that feeling of longing rushed in, but it did. Last night, I had only really thought about Jack, thought exclusively about the disruption of my immediate surroundings. Disruption of my current world.
As much as it would trouble my parents to hear about their daughter narrowly escaping rape and murder, it would be a way to reconnect, a way to re-include them in my life in a very real way. I had barely escaped danger, and now I desperately wanted to hug them both, the people that had raised and protected me through the earliest portion of my life.
My brain overflowed with memories of growing up, learning to ride a bike, Christmas mornings, family vacations to the beach. I was suddenly imagining my dad with a mustache and laughing inside. He had shaved it off almost a decade ago, but prior to that, it was a serious part of his appearance. My mom always jokingly suggested that he should grow it back and he always grumbled about it.
Good, sweet, loving memories. Jack was my now, and they would always be my then. Stress made the desire to reconnect more poignant than ever before.
I hadn't called my mom since I asked her for rent money, something I regretted every time I remembered it. Life had sped up after that, and I hadn't really wanted to get into the details of my love life. The money sat in my account the whole time, unused as Jack's finances covered us both—and my new job's very plentiful income sweetened things further.
My phone was cracked again, so this call would be the last prior to repair/replacement. It felt symbolic, in a way. My life had been fractured similarly, and now I'd look to repair it as well.
I couldn't believe how bad my luck with cell phones had been. Honestly, I had gone for years with my first cell phone, never having any issues or breaking it. Now, I'd smashed two in two months. It wasn't entirely my fault, however. I wasn't as much of a klutz as I was making myself out to be.
After so much potent introspection, weeping came easily, and Jack comforted me, holding me in his arms. "Just cry," he whispered. "I'm here for you. Always."
"Shut up," I complained. "You're too perfect and it's just making me cry more."
He handed me a wad of tissues and groaned as he stood up from the bed. "God, I'm so sore. Everything hurts."
After he said it, I realized how sore I was as well. It felt like I had been through a very rough and competitive boxing match. "I need painkillers," I said. "We need to go to a pharmacy." My head was throbbing slowly with my heartbeat. The doctor had given me a prescription last night, but after all the drugs at the hospital, I had been set to make it through the night.
"I already took care of it," he said with a smile. He tossed a bottle of pills to me. "Don't get addicted to these now. Vicodin is serious stuff."
I greedily dumped one onto my tongue and swallowed it with water. "Oh, God, thanks again." Medicinal relief couldn't come soon enough.
"It's nothing. Every f*cking second with you is worth it." I guess we were both being a little extra dramatic and verbose after such a terrible event.
I smiled, picked up my phone, and started dialing, feeling extra brave after hearing Jack's powerful words—and then my calm failed the second I heard my mom's voice. "I almost got raped and murdered and I'm okay and I swear I'm all right and my boyfriend, Jack, saved me!" A flood of tears soaked the sheet as I reflexively used it instead of the giant pile of tissues to my right.
Unsurprisingly, they booked a flight and were on a plane to NYC the next morning—and I would have to introduce them to the man of my dreams, face to face. I think I subconsciously made the call because I knew this would be the end result. I couldn't hide anymore. I would peel off every layer, every bit of mask that I had hidden behind.
I hated that I had so much to tell them, so many details that hadn't arisen at all due to the distance I had created between us. And not so much the physical distance as the emotional distance. I had taken their advice and come to New York, but I guess I had hidden myself upon arrival, trying to make it on my own without relying on them for support, emotionally, financially, or otherwise. I hadn't gone home at all, even though they would have paid for the plane ticket.
They obviously knew about my breakup with Timothy, but they didn't know about his moving here and attacking me. Yeah, I would have hours of conversation already queued up in my head before we even said hello.
This was my world now, a world that was becoming clearer all the time. They needed to be part of it, needed to be a part of Jack and me, because it wasn't about to end anytime soon.
Jack insisted upon meeting them at the airport in a limo. It was ridiculous, but at the very least, they'd get a kick out of it. We drove slowly to JFK, dressed in casual clothes as we sat in the back of Jack's regular method of luxury transportation. No champagne today, and I was okay with that. I didn't want to be drunk when they arrived.
My mom had called me to inform me that they were waiting outside the arrivals area as we pulled into the airport. I told her we'd pick her up, and when she asked what we were driving, I just told her that she'd know when she saw it. I giggled to myself after hanging up the phone, amused at the surprise I was harboring.
"What?" Jack asked.
"Try not to be too charming," I said jokingly.
"You're terrible," he complained. "I can't just turn it off!"
I kissed him deeply, my tongue darting into his mouth. "I love you," I said post-kiss. "I can't believe the shit we've been through lately."
"No kidding," he said, lightly stroking my hair. The midday sun was glowing on his skin, framing his beautiful face as he touched me. I was glad to see him feeling better already.
We pulled up to the arrivals gate, navigating past the scores of people and cars that littered the area. Everyone was picking someone else up at that same moment, and this happened to be the only place to do it. Percy found a space right next to the curb, big enough for the limo, a minor miracle given the chaos. When I peered out the tinted window, I saw my mom and dad standing there, staring at our ridiculous car with weary eyes, oblivious to the fact that I was nestled away inside it with Jack.
"Are you ready?" I asked Jack.
"I've always been ready." He gave me that gorgeous wide smile, and I almost passed out like I had the first time I witnessed it. Jack kissed my cheek and pointed at the door. "You first."
I took a deep breath and then opened the door, hiding behind it before I stepped out. My parents were still aimlessly looking around, trying to find the mysterious vehicle that I had refused to identify. And then, my dad's eyes met mine and he was frantically tapping my mom's shoulder and pointing.
They walked briskly toward me, roller suitcases following behind them. "Effie, sweetheart!" My mom's voice soared over the ambient noise. I felt fragile, but I kept walking.
"What the hell is this damn thing?" My dad's voice was full of lighthearted curiosity as he tried to digest the bizarre situation.
They hugged me together, and I wrapped my arms around both of their bodies. A rush of relief hit me at once as I felt something quite like reunion. I was going to come clean to them, to let them know the real me from this day forward. And the real Jack, of course.
"Oh, God, honey, we're so glad you're okay." My mother looked better than ever, but a bit frail given the macabre circumstances that had brought her to New York.
"You gave us quite the scare," my dad said softly, his excitement mild and subdued. "We're just glad you're all right." My dad's hair was freshly trimmed short, his usual, familiar clean-cut look intact even after my months away from home. Everything was exactly how I had left it—and still no mustache!
"I'm okay," I mumbled. "I'm just fine. Just fine." I fought and swallowed the urge to cry about the hundredth time, and then I realized that Jack had stepped out of the vehicle behind me and was approaching our group.
"Is that him?" My mother whispered it in my ear, her voice shaky and surprised. I pulled away from them and proudly joined Jack's side.
"Mom and dad, this is my boyfriend and boss, Jack. Jack, this is my mom and dad, Joy and Dean."
"It's such a pleasure to meet you both," Jack said, hitting them with one of those borderline deadly smiles of his. I had never been prouder of anything in my life. A beautiful collision of worlds was taking place in front of me.
"Likewise," my mom said, stepping toward Jack and meeting him with a hug. My dad caught him with a firm handshake as soon as he stepped away, their hands rising and falling as they both chuckled and grinned.
"You've got quite the thing going for you, Mr. Jack," my dad said, pointing at the limo, an obvious indicator of his success.
Jack wrapped his arm around my back and paused. "I do, Dean." He glanced down at me, and then back at them."She's beautiful and I'm the luckiest man in the world to have her."
If I had died right then and there, it would have been fine. Hell, it would have been perfect.
But life was even better than that.