CHINA
I know I’m lying in the lap of someone. The body is strong. It smells of manliness, and I can feel their deep breaths. The heat that enveloped me with Officer Mason, though, has dissipated, which saddens me more than I’d like to admit. It shouldn’t affect me, but it does.
I fell apart. I totally shattered in public and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But he was there to catch me as I fell. Why would he? Why would someone I was so rude to and tried to shame, who is the linchpin in my crazy life, want to help and be there for me? It makes no sense at all.
“Har?” I squeak.
“Right here, lover. Behind you.”
Lifting my head, I turn to lay in her lap.
“We’ve got you,” Harlow quietly tells me as she strokes my hair. “Just relax, lover.”
“Hallee,” Cathryne says quietly. “Give me that clutch of yours. I know you always carry at least two sleeping pills. Hand ’em over.” Cathryne. Always the mother hen, caring for all of us better than our own ever have.
Harlow sets me back a bit off her lap and places the pills in my hand. “Sweetness, here, take these. It’ll help.” Leaning back on my elbows while trying to calm the shaking breaths that wrack me, I take the pills.
“It hurts,” I cry, full of snot and tears. I sound so weak. I’m never the weak one.
“We know, honey. Sleep now.”
Shuddering when I breathe, the intake rocks my body. You’d think the tears would have dried up by now, but they fall like Niagara Falls over the cliffs—hard and rampant. If you’d said to me that by the time I reached my twenty-first birthday that I’d lose both my parents, almost lose my closest confidant and next nearest sibling, and end up arrested because of a few stupid tickets, I’d have told you to stop smoking Hallette’s weed. Finding it hard to hate the cop that arrested me, I try to let the whole thing settle, taking in the insanity of it all.
I’ve become really good at avoidance and not talking about the crushing void in my life. But I shouldn’t have waited so long to let it affect me. The moment that the shakes slow down and my body starts to relax, that’s when sleep takes me.
~~~~~~
The sun rises through the bank of windows in my bedroom, stinging my eyes. I feel like I have the largest hangover known to man, and my chest hurts like a son of a bitch, burning like fire. Taking stock of last night’s events, I can admit to myself that it was a panic attack. My body needed to break free. I’d been sheltering the pain like a lost dog.
Rising out of bed, the thoughtful clothing the girls put me to bed in last night is a tell-tale of how bad I was. I’m wearing a tank that my Grammie gave me after a trip to Versailles, and the ugliest, most worn pair of sweatpants I own, that they know are my favorite. Nothing makes you feel better than comfort clothes. They wanted to make sure I was zen-like when I woke.
Am I, though? Am I relaxed? Sure, my chest hurts, and I’m not sobbing like a blithering idiot anymore, but am I better?
Maybe.
Be honest, Doll. No. No, you’re not.
Last night feels like a dream. No, it’s more like a nightmare with a dreamlike ending. Smelling myself, I take in the raspberry and soft vanilla cream that coated my body, and it makes me think of him. I laugh at myself for smelling my own skin, but I’m trying to pull in a memory that has no place in today. Today, I have an appointment with the LA court, and today, I’ll be dealing with the consequences of my carelessness.
Showering, dressing, and feeling presentable, I traverse down the stairs. Hearing the girls as they chat in the kitchen, more than likely giving Cassidy a rundown of my demise from last night, the total sum of their conversation seems to be centered on my savior.
“Who the hell was he? I’ve looked through the pictures from last night—”
“Honestly, does it really matter? He was wicked man candy.”
“Did you see how he handled her like she was just a blow up doll.” A side of snickers went around the table at the double innuendo Doll comment.
“Sure, but Trellis and him? That was tense. I’m not sure I want to know how those two know each other.”
Even as I want to be involved in this ruckus, I enter quietly.
“Hey, sweetness. Come on over. We had Cassidy make you some of your favorites,” Hallette says sweetly.
Pulling out a chair from the breakfast bar for me, Cathryne asks, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m better, Catty.” All of them are walking on eggshells, afraid to set me off, I know it.
Picking up an orange slice, I nibble and suck the sweetness off my fingers as it dribbles down. I’m relaxed, knowing my girls are here to help me through this. Peeling the pulp with my teeth, I place the rind on the plate and pick up a slice of toast.
“What are your plans today?” Looking at each of them, I take in their silence and stares.
“Did you think we’d leave you to deal with the pending incarceration alone?” Harlow procures my now sticky knife, dragging her finger along the edge and licking it off. “No, darling. We’re not idly standing by while you get measured for your new orange jumpsuit.”
“Harlow!” Everyone yells in unison.
She giggles at the admonishment and spins the swivel chair in circles like we’ve always done for as long as I can remember. Her long flowing hair sweeps around her face, catching her lip gloss. Leave it to her to find the light in any darkness.
“What? I’m just saying the same thing that the rest of you are thinking. The only difference is that I’m using my outside voice.”
“Harlot. I don’t need anyone walking on eggshells because of me. I’ve never been breakable, and I don’t intend on starting today.” Biting my toast, I wink at her and wait for the ensuing grin. When trouble finds me, it’s normally with Harlow in tow, or vice versa. I’d say ninety-nine percent of my childhood incarceration was care of Harlow Anne Palente.
Taking a few more bites, the conversation switches to nonverbal cues, asking with their eyes about how they think I’m doing. Their random thoughts are like air bubbles floating by.
“Harlow’s right,” I say, entreating each of them. “If I couldn’t handle what was going on last night and today’s newest fight, do you think my ass would be down here eating toast? No. I’d be upstairs, sequestered under my fluffy blankets, sucking my thumb and crying until you needed to medicate me again. By the way, thank you. I appreciate what you did to get me out of there without a video montage at NBC.”
Harlow shrugs her shoulders in answer and Catty smiles, knowing she did right by me. Hallette hugs me.
“We love you wickedly, CD.”
“I know.” Returning to my toast, I drizzle a bit more honey on the remaining bits before I suck back on my coffee, watching the interactions. Clearing the counter to avoid all conversations about men, Cassidy stays quiet. I bet she’s afraid I’ll bring the girls into the whole Ciccero date night. Honestly, I’ll wait to ask further when there are less opinionated ears around.
“Soooo,” Hallee drawls out. “That guy was hot.”
Rolling my eyes, I sink into the toast without another thought. I’m avoiding all conversations that deal with Mr. Universe Mason.
“Let’s not talk about him. He was nice and helped me out last night, but don’t forget he’s the one who assisted in my impending incarceration.”
“He seemed genuinely interested in making sure you were taken care of, CD.”
“I know, Hallee. Problem is, he’s the enemy. Right?”
“As enemies go, I’d let him be my enemy any day. That boy was hot, and he carried you around like a prize.” Sticking out her hands as if she’s waiting to be cuffed, Hallette has a gleeful look of mischief. “Arrest me officer, please. If she doesn’t want you, I’ll take you graciously. I’m sure I could put those cuffs to use.”
“The cuffs weren’t that much fun, honey. I wouldn’t recommend them, or the accommodations that came with them either.”
“I think you need to give that boy another shot.”
“And how, pre-tell, do you expect me to get his phone number?”
“9-1-1?”
“Really? Not happening, lover. I am not getting arrested to grab the cop’s phone number.”
Slamming her hands down on the counter, Harlow attempts to look serious. “If a strip search by him is part of the arrest, I’m in.” I can’t help but laugh. Even though my mind has drifted off to Officer Mason conducting a strip search, I reach for the freshly filled coffee urn that sits in the middle of the table. Refilling my cup and bringing my mind back to the present, I’m reminded that when I leave here, I’m off to the county jail. Officer Mason needs to be the last thing on my mind.
Muttering into her cup, Hallette giggles. “She’s thinking about it.”
As I pour my milk absentmindedly, almost spilling it across the countertop, I blush. “Ah, hell no. There’s nothing I can do about the good officer, Hallee. He’s not attainable, and I have bigger fish to fry. Let’s keep on task, sex fiend.”
“I am. I’m only thinking about your needs, and he’s something you need to sample at least once.”