I couldn’t stop the perspiration from flooding my skin as it became the unbearable reminder that broken girls will never get away without scars. It’s the emotional ones that run the deepest and create total ruin.
I could hear the motor winding, delivering the elevator to the fifth floor. I needed to get the fuck out of there. I could hear Martie still arguing with the nurse as she kept yelling for Shane. The elevator doors sprung open and I hurried in. My body ready to flush out the pain of walking away. I pushed the button with the capital L before I repeatedly pushed the button that closed the elevator doors.
“Please, please, please close. Come on you bastard, please close,” I breathed. My heart pounding the same rhythm of my pleas; my finger must have clicked it over 150 times.
Seconds later, as if the elevator doors knew I wasn’t supposed to be here any longer, they began to roll closed. I peered through the shrinking opening, the sliver of reprieve I craved before I met Briggs downstairs. Trying to collect myself I looked straight ahead and watched as Shane showed up just in time to disappear behind the closing elevator doors between us . . . his face colorless, drawn, and filled with regret.
I didn’t need his pity. I really didn’t need the heartbreak of being left waiting for someone to come along and whisk me away from my menial existence as a prostitute. Been there, done that . . . I know how that turns out.
Without stopping the elevator dropped five floors, letting out a dull, tired chime as it passed each level until it landed with a soft thud at the lobby. I waited, pushing on the doors with my fingertips, hoping that it somehow could tell I just wanted to get out; I waited impatiently for them to separate and give me the freedom to hurry out of the hospital.
I slipped my sweater over my shoulders as I hustled across the lobby and over to the entry of the hospital. I made it to the front doors when I heard Shane holler. I turned back and saw him jogging across from the stairs. I pushed on the automatic doors trying to get them to open faster.
“Rose! Please! Wait!” Shane grabbed my upper arm and tugged me back around.
His expression filled with remorse—drizzled with guilt.
“Why?” I asked pulling my arm out of his grip.
“Because.”
“Because, why?”
“Come on, Rose, stop. Let me say something.”
“No.”
“I like you.”
“You like me? Are you kidding? This isn’t preschool, Shane. You can’t give me a handful of Blow Pops and think it will fix this. You don’t even know who the fuck I am.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you really don’t.”
“Yeah, I fucking do.”
“Just go back to your girlfriend, Shane.”
“She’s not my—”
“I have nothing to offer you. Do you hear me? Martie was right, I’m nothing more than a two-bit whore.”
“Rose,” he breathed, pushing closer to me. His aroma filled me as his hands tickled down the back of my arms collecting at my elbows.
“Shane. Please. Don’t.” I pushed him away.
“Do we have a wee problem ‘ere?” Briggs asked as he appeared from the direction of the parking lot. His arms twitched under his full sleeves of ink.
“No buddy, no problem here,” Shane spat at Briggs as his eyes never left mine.
“Doesn’t look like the wee lady feels the same way as you.” Briggs’ voice was demanding and protective. “Rosie gir’, you okay?”
Shane’s eyes grew as he looked at Briggs. I saw the wheels turning in Shane’s head. He didn’t have to say a word, it was written all over his face. He thought Key was my pimp.
“Go back to her, Shane. It’s where you belong.”
I turned to Briggs, he was ready to pounce if Shane was going to try and get violent.
“Rose . . .” Shane whispered.
“Will you please take me home, Key?” I asked. He nodded before he pulled me into his chest and I was swallowed in his embrace.
I looked back at Shane once, as Briggs put me into his Black Lexus SUV. I noticed that Shane was still standing there, watching me. My heart shattered for him, yeah, even when I wanted to be the one who broke his heart before he broke mine.