Chapter 3
Ashanti
Perfect. Wonderful. I should have expected that this was the next step in my slow climb down to hell. What did I do to deserve this punishment, again? She looked behind her, at Troy following her with his eyes right on her ass, and rolled her eyes. That jackass, beautiful though he is, is about to be forced onto me as a husband.
Even though she knew it was inevitable, it still didn't feel real to her. Being forced to marry was never even on her radar as one of the possibilities for her life.
It didn't help that she actually never had a boyfriend before. She didn't have many friends in high school, and never even made the attempt to talk to men because of how they teased her as a kid. She thought that, one day, the right man would sweep her off her feet and claim her.
Someone strong and handsome, that would protect her and provide for her while never treating her like a burden or a piece of meat. That was the kind of man she wanted.
Turned out, it was going to be the wrong man instead. The absolute wrongest man it could ever possibly be. A perverted, asshole whose dick she had already seen by accident.
It was a pretty big dick, though. The kind of dick she wouldn't mind losing her virginity to.
Ugh! She thought, shaking her head at herself. Get a grip! This is exactly the kind of thinking that got me into trouble in high school! He's not into me. He'll never be into me. I'll think of some way out of this, somehow.
There was always the possibility that he could say no, she realized. Maybe he was independently wealthy and didn't need the money, or he was too proud to take it and wanted to make it on his own. Surely Ashanti's grandma couldn't hold that against her.
Roman sniffed around at her couches, but was swatted away by Ina when he tried to lick her hand. She already didn't like the woman before, but anyone that didn't like dogs had to have a black heart.
“Troy! My favorite grandson,” Ina said, standing up to hug him.
He returned the gesture and helped her to sit back down. “Grandma, I'm your only grandson.”
“That doesn't mean you're not my favorite!”
Giving her a lopsided grin, he looked to Ashanti's grandma. “And who is your lovely friend?”
“Oh, this old bat! This is Rosalinda, Ashanti's grandmother.”
“You can call me Rosa, everyone does, dear.” Rosa stuck her hand out and Troy took it, kissing it with a charming smile. Rosa's face went pink as she gave a small sigh of satisfaction.
Then, turning to Ina, “Grandma, I'm having some trouble and –”
“No, I don't want to talk about that yet. Take a seat. I have some news for you.”
Here we go. We're going to see him freak out, maybe even storm out. And then Grandma will tell me I can keep the house and my trust, and we all live happily ever after, far away from each other. Ashanti smiled and stood near the door, watching the conversation from afar. Roman sat next to his master, laying his muzzle on his leg.
“We have a stipulation for your use of your money. As you know, you must get married.”
“Grandma, you know about my problems with that.”
“Yes, but in this case you'll have to suck them up.” She took a deep breath, raising her chin. She must have been where Troy got his stubborn chin. “You see, you've been promised to that young lady behind you since you were both very young. You are to marry her within the week, and stay married for a year.”
A week?! They didn't tell me that! She watched Troy closely for his reaction, but she was disappointed when he sat back with a thoughtful look on his face. There was no explosion, no snide remarks about his pride being more important than money.
“I accept,” he said, and Ashanti felt her eyes bug out, her mouth drop open. “On one condition.”
“Oh? What is your condition?” Ina asked, leaning in. She clearly didn't expect that, and the change had piqued her interest.
Troy sighed, leaning against the arm of the chair. Ashanti wanted to kick him right out of her house, and preferably kick his ass, too. The lawyer excused himself, leaving out the front door and driving away.
“Grandma, my bills are getting out of control. I need some help.”
Ina's eyes watched Troy's face, her expression stoic. Then a nod, and a smile. “I know that you've had a hard time since you got back. Once you two are married, all of your expenses will be taken care of for a year anyway. If you marry, I will make sure part of your trust goes to your medical bills.”
Troy's face looked relieved, then went back to that same stoic expression he shared with his grandmother. Ashanti wondered exactly what kind of bills he had. Had something happened to him? He seemed perfectly healthy, but then he did have the papers for a therapy dog.
Then reality set in. She was going to be forced to marry Troy. “I can't believe you're fine with this,” she hissed, crossing her thin arms across her chest. “This is ridiculous! Do you just have a hard time getting girlfriends or something? Find someone else to marry!”
Troy turned to her, his eyes half-lidded and his lips thin. He wasn't showing it, but she could tell she had hit a nerve with him. “As a matter of fact, I do have a hard time getting girlfriends. And lady, you got no idea how many problems this solves for me.”
“You have no idea how many problems this causes for me!” She cried, starting to grow flustered. If she wasn't careful about how emotional she got, she would break down crying. There would be nothing more humiliating at that point.
Ina asked, “Oh, do you have a boyfriend?”
Her face burned red, her eyes falling to the floor. “No, not right now.”
“Then I don't see a problem here. Rosa, I think we ought to get to our hotel for the night.”
“Grandma, wait, I only have my hotel room for one night. Where am I staying?”
Ina huffed. “I told you not to get a hotel room. You're staying here. Cancel your reservation.”
Rosa kissed Ashanti's cheek, and then both of the older women left. Ashanti stood perfectly still, watching the door as it closed. Troy went out and came back in, holding a backpack he had left on his motorcycle.
“So, where do you want me to stay?” He asked.
“Out in the streets would be preferable to me,” she answered, then turned and walked up the stairs. “I have a guest room up here.”
Troy
On the outside, Troy was doing his damnedest to keep a calm mask on. He didn't want Ashanti to see him as weak. She might use it against him.
Internally, however, Troy was shaking worse than ever before. Having to sleep in the same house as a strange woman could utterly destroy all the good that his psychiatrist had done for him, especially since he had no medication because he couldn't afford it. It was going to be a night of really bad nightmares, and he was not prepared for it.
Roman followed them both up the stairs, whining quietly. The dog could sense Troy's emotions as if he were an empath or something. Having him nearby would at least make the night easier. If Roman wasn't there, he would have already been a sobbing mess on the ground.
“Hey, I do have a night at the hotel that I already paid for. I can go back there, if this makes you uncomfortable. Or I can give you the key card and let you stay there.” He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the card, holding it out to her as she turned to face him.
“No,” she huffed. Troy could see her throat tighten. “We have to listen to our grandmothers. Come on.”
Troy was becoming very irritated by her attitude. He didn't sign up for this crap any more than she had. If this actually happened, and wasn't just some cruel joke by their grandmothers, he hoped that her bitter attitude would eventually go away. He didn't want to be married to some harpy, not even for just a year.
Cocking an eyebrow up, he smiled. “So, gonna set me up in your bedroom then? I think I know something that could help us both relax.” He hoped that she would laugh.
She didn't.
“No, and don't expect a ring and fake marriage to change that. We are never, ever having sex. Got that?” She pointed a finger and shoved it into his chest. It hurt, a little.
His mind started to race when she touched him, but he didn't curl up into a ball and fall into flashbacks. Ashanti was starting to seem less like a threat, and more like a challenge. He would take that over PTSD any day, so he went with it. He'd have his fun with her, and maybe convince her to fuck him. Yeah, that sounded good.
“Is that so?” He stepped closer to her, purposefully invading her personal space. She reacted just how he wanted her to. The carefully crafted wall of anger she put up around herself started to crumble, and she showed just how fearful and small she really felt. She was beautiful with a slight wobble in her bottom lip.
“I have to imagine that you have your own reasons for agreeing to this marriage. What is it? Bills? School? This house?” She let out a short gasp that told him that was his answer. “Ah. So you do have a weakness. Why all of this hostility? I'm not forcing this on you. In fact, don't you think you owe me, since I'm helping you keep this house?”
“Owe you?!” She screamed, raising her hand to slap him. His withering look made her think twice about it. She stepped back again, crossing her arms. “You said something about medical bills. I think you are the one who actually owes me, dick!”
He chuckled and stepped right into her space again, dropping his voice to a growling whisper. “Oh, so I owe you dick now, huh? I think I can agree to that.”
“Oh my God!” She yelled, throwing up her hands as she spun away from him. “That's the guest room! You're staying there, and far away from me. Got it? I'm locking my bedroom door, so don't even try to come in.”
“Wait, Ashanti,” he tried to stop her, but she was down the hallway and closing her door already.
“Just leave me alone!” Her voice told him he had better listen.
Troy felt bad for exactly thirty seconds before he had to laugh. She was going to be fun, but he hoped she wouldn't hate him forever. Maybe he shouldn't have been so hard on her.
Still, if being a prick made it easier on him to live with a woman, he had to take it. He couldn't risk hurting himself, or even worse her, during a flashback.
A flashback to that woman with the golden-brown skin, her blue scarf blowing in the night wind. The way she stepped closer to them haunted him, the slightly erotic, seductive nature of it. He remembered the sound of his friend's voice, speaking in Arabic, asking if she needed help. She only smiled as she cried.
Troy fell to the floor, the breath completely gone from his lungs. Oh, fuck, he thought, crawling into the guest bedroom. He opened his backpack and pulled out the sleeping pills he hated taking. He hated how they made him feel the next morning, the way they blocked out any dreams at all, leaving him only with blackness.
But blackness was better than red against yellow sand. Blackness was better than visions of a missing hand and a half-gone face. Blackness was better than the orange, yellow, white of the explosion. He would prefer blackness over the memories.
Crawling up into his bed, Roman following closely behind, he kicked off the covers and wrapped his arms around the second pillow, shuddering into the lingering memories. The only thing that took his mind off of them, for just a moment, was thinking about Ashanti's face. She was the only distraction he had.
“I think I like her, Roman,” he told his dog, running his fingers through the fur. Roman was asleep, his back pressed up against Troy's stomach. Troy clenched the pillow closer to his chest, shutting his eyes tight as the silent blackness finally overcame the sights and sound of the desert that were permanently etched into his mind.