Shane has this natural talent to make me feel like a plain, ordinary girl and well, being ordinary makes me feel like I’m something special.
On my way back from the bathroom, I figured I’d stop in on Shane and find out what’s taking so long to find my Blow Pops. His office door was partly open and I saw through the door crack that he was still sitting at his desk. He wasn’t rummaging through his drawers; instead he was looking over to the other side of the room, talking to someone.
“You know how hard it is to find you?” I heard a female voice tease him. I froze in my tracks.
“Well, I haven’t been hiding,” he answered lightheartedly.
“Maybe not, but I just thought you’d reconsider my offer to thank you properly for your kindness,” she replied.
My heart throbbed in my chest. I inched closer to Shane’s office to see who in the hell he was talking to. I saw that she had on a long black trench coat and matching spiked stilettos. Jealousy stabbed at my gut.
“Oh, I appreciate that, but—” Shane’s voice had echoed against the flimsy walls.
“Well, I just want to return the favor, even if it’s paid back in a little different way. You know, this offer does expire. A girl can only be turned down so many times before she stops offering.”
The woman had spun his chair around and wedged her stiletto between his legs. I craned my neck around to see what the hell this woman was going to do to my man. Shane had let out a nervous chuckle before he answered.
“Well, Crystal, you are a very beautiful woman and like I’ve said before, if I was ever interested in your type of service, you’d definitely be the first woman I’d call. But right now I’m pretty satisfied in that department of my life, and truthfully, I don’t think my girl would like this very much.”
Shane volleyed his hands back and forth. “But, hey, just knowing you’re okay is enough for me. No disrespect, I’ve just never been into . . . this.” He slipped his hand down between his legs and removed her foot.
My heart thrashed in my chest before crashing incessantly against my bones, my ears filled with a slight buzz. All those shitty feelings of unworthiness I buried deep began to boil to the surface of my skin. I was burning, aching for the possibility that Shane would see me for something more than a fucking whore. But his words to Crystal were clear and I heard them . . . he could never be with someone who sold her body to other men. The voice in my head took the opportunity to twist and stab his words into my already battered heart.
You will never be anything more to him than a dirty whore. Just turn around and leave.
Damaged goods.
I pushed off the wall, hurried back to the washers and yanked all my damp clothes out. That was it; I listened to the advice from the voice in my head. Shane rejected me. Unknowingly or not, he basically told me that he could never be with me, even if his words were aimed at Crystal. She and I were prostitutes, whores, women who laid down with men for money. Adrenaline coursed through my veins feeding the urgency to leave, I couldn’t breathe anymore. I stuffed my laundry sack with my clothes and swung it over my shoulder before I high tailed it outta there. Questions poured through my mind and my inner voice was happy to answer.
What the hell was Crystal doing there anyway?
Well, Ro, you’re a whore, you know what she was doing!
I never saw her come in. When did she come in?
She came in expecting to fuck Shane and he turned her down, just like he’ll turn you down. Told you to fucking cut him loose.
My back aching, barking at the pain of carrying what felt like a body flung over my shoulder. I never stopped until I was at my piece of shit ‘92 Le Baron. I tossed the laundry sack into my trunk, squeezed in between the door and drove home. Broken by the evidence that he’d never accept what I was, the words he spoke seared into my head. If I was interested in your type of service . . . I’m pretty satisfied in that department.
I wasn’t supposed to let him in. I should have never come; I didn’t need to hear him say he had someone. Words began to saturate my mind, the same voice that always tried to bury me in my nightmares, attempted to lock me in the darkened closet I’d always thrown the most vulnerable part of myself.
Come on Rose, you were the one all ready to leave him. Keep him wanting you, remember? You should have known he wouldn’t want your kind even before you came up on his conversation with that whore. Pull your shit together; be grateful it wasn’t more than a flirty moment in a crappy laundromat. Cut your losses.
Major mental fucking note . . . avoid laundromats and dark alleys.