Give And Take: Taken Part 14

It's seven in the morning, and I've slept like c.r.a.p. I have no idea if I want to stay on the project or not. Okay, I know I want to, but I don't know if it's because of the project or because of you. Maybe both and that scares me. I need to stay away from you and clear my head.

Talking this through with someone would help, but Shannon would tell me I should go for it, that I was stupid not to sleep with you on day one, and have a plane ticket in my hand before I could object.

My mom-not an option. She can't be unbiased when it comes to me, or unselfish. She'd have me living in my old bedroom already if I gave in to her constant badgering.

Aunt Jan would be good to talk to, but how do I get her on the phone without Mom knowing and b.u.t.ting in?

I dial her number and when she picks up, I cut her off before she can speak. "Don't say who's on the phone. Did you tell Mom already when you saw the number?"

"Uh...no."

"Good. I need to talk to you, but I don't want her knowing about it. Can you find a time to call me when she's not around?"

"She's in the shower right now, Rachael. What's going on? Are you okay?"

I let out a sigh of relief and lean back in my chair at the kitchen table. "I'm fine. I have...man problems and need someone to talk to."

She laughs. "All men are problems. What's this one done? And let me guess, Merrick?"

"Yes. How'd you know? I thought I threw you off that trail." I smile. My aunt has always had a way of knowing what's going on with me.

"A man does not sh.e.l.l out the cash Mr. Rocha did to send a girl's mother and aunt on a cruise to get her alone unless he intends to make a move. I'm guessing it's that move that you're having second thoughts about?" I hear the amus.e.m.e.nt in her voice.

I pound my fist on the oak table. "He's so frustrating. You can't imagine. I didn't even agree to run this project-not really, not that I remember saying in so many words-but somehow he got me to do it. I find myself going along with him and then wondering what happened, like I was in some kind of haze or something."

"Love does that to you," she says, laughing. "Or l.u.s.t. You can be the judge of which you're feeling."

"Maybe a little of both. Or a lot of one and some of the other. I don't know. That's just it. I can't come to terms with how I feel about him." For reasons I can't divulge to anyone.

"Well, there are obviously reasons why you can't come to terms with how you feel. Do you know what those reasons are?"

I knock on the table with my knuckles. "Yes."

"Are they valid, or based on irrational fear?"

"Irrational fear?" I lean forward.

"Yes, irrational fear. n.o.body falls in love without running the risk of getting hurt. It's irrational though if you trust the other person not to hurt you. Do you trust him?"

"No. Not yet. I don't know if I ever could."

"Then your fear is valid. Don't give your heart away to someone you can't trust, Rachael."

I close my eyes and lean back again. "I know. I wish...I wish I could trust him. He doesn't hurt me intentionally. He's just so stupid when it comes to feelings. He does things that he thinks will make me happy, but destroy me instead. He doesn't get it."

"Sounds like a lack of communication, not so much that he's intentionally hurting you. Can you teach him to communicate?"

"I was going to try, but I left."

"You left? You're home?"

"Who's home?" my Mom's voice shrills over the line from somewhere in the room.

"I'm sorry," Aunt Jan whispers. "Rachael's home. She's not sure how long though."

"Did something happen?" Mom's panicked.

"No, she--"

"Let me talk to her." There's scrambling with the phone. "Rachael?" Mom says. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom. No need to worry." I rub my aching forehead. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid.

"Did something happen with Mr. Rocha?"

"No, Mom. I just came home to get some clothes." Why am I saying this? I'm not going back.

"How long are you staying?"

"I fly back tomorrow." I cringe. I hate lying to her.

"Oh. Well, have a safe trip. Call when you get there."

"I will. Tell Aunt Jan goodbye for me."

When we hang up, I lay my head on the table. This situation is so ridiculous. There's nothing left for me here. I have no job, an apartment and roommate I'm avoiding, and I'm lying to my mom. I don't want to be here or there with you, but there's no door number three at the moment.

I'm lying to myself, too. I do want to be there with you, but I can't be. Even Aunt Jan said it-I can't be with someone I don't trust. Can I teach you? I don't know. Will you devour me, my heart, and my emotions before you learn?

It feels like I'm circling a fire, debating on whether to pounce into the flames or not. People don't dive into flames unless they're stupid. I'm not stupid, but I'm acting stupid. You're making me act stupid.

Ugh. I bang my head gently against the table. The ping of an email alert on my phone has my head popping up.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Decisions Rachael, I did a lot of thinking last night. I apologized to Joan. I'd like to make it up to you somehow.

Apologies are far more effective in person though.

Hope to see you soon, Merrick Good luck with that. I'm not going back.

From: [email protected] To: RE: Decisions Merrick, I haven't made up my mind. There's a lot to take into consideration.

You've already apologized. What's done is done.

Indecisive, Rachael After sending off my reply, I lay my head back down on the table. My stomach growls. I need food, but Mom made sure to clean out the fridge before leaving for three weeks. If I had the energy, I'd go out and get something.

My phone rings. It's Shannon. I can't bring myself to talk to her, so I let it go to voicemail. Then I send her a text letting her know I'm home and at my mom's, and I'll stop by the apartment later today. I feel terrible avoiding her.

I wander into Mom's room hoping to find a book to read. After perusing her bookshelf for a while, I pick a memoir that looks like it has zero romance and crash on her bed to read. I get three pages in when there's a knock on the front door.

I should've never told Shannon I was here. Now she'll pester me to get out of my ratty old bathrobe and do something with my hair and go shopping. Maybe she'll want to go to lunch though. I'm still ready to chew my fingers off. I should order Chinese.

I grab the doork.n.o.b and yank the door open. "I knew you'd show up."

She's looking s.e.xy as always in a black halter top and jean shorts. Her golden blonde hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, her skin is bronzed to perfection and I'm left wondering how we ever became friends we're so completely opposite. She whips her sungla.s.ses off and looks me up and down. "You look like s.h.i.+t."

"I feel like s.h.i.+t." I stand back and let her inside.

"So, what the h.e.l.l happened to you?" She plops down on Mom's couch, picks up a magazine from the coffee table and crosses her legs. I sit next to her. "Last thing I knew," she says, flipping through the celebrity rag magazine, "I left you at the club eyeing up some hot piece of man meat. Then you disappear, and I get a call from some woman telling me you're in Florida doing work on that hotel project you turned down. How'd that happen?"

"I...well, it's...wait. How did you get your car?"

She shakes her head. "What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? You left it in the driveway."

Merrick must've taken care of that, too.

"Rachael? h.e.l.lo?" She snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Something's going on with you." She swivels to face me. "What happened?"

I rub my arms and try to think of a way to start this conversation. "You know the man meat? That was Merrick Rocha."

She stares at me blank-faced.

"Of Rocha Enterprises. You know, the billionaire businessman who offered me a job?"

"Oh!" She c.o.c.ks her head and gives me a strange look. "He's not old."

"No. He's not. Anyway, we left for Florida that night and that's where I've been. At the hotel on Turtle Tear Island in the Everglades."

Her eyebrows shoot up and she clucks her tongue. "Alone with the billionaire? Is he a s.e.x G.o.d, too?"

I can't help the sigh that falls through my lips. "I wouldn't know. It's...complicated."

She grabs my shoulders and shakes me. "Rachael. He's hot as h.e.l.l. What's complicated about that?" Her hands drop. "He's married."

I laugh. If only that were the problem, our relations.h.i.+p would be cut and dry-friends only. "No. He's not."

"Gay?"

"Not even close."

"Then there's something wrong with you, cuz the man I saw at the club had a serious body and a face that could soak panties from here to h.e.l.l and back. What is the problem?" She tosses the magazine onto the table and leans back folding her arms. "I know you're not saving it all up for marriage. That cherry's been popped. So, what is it?"

I grimace. "Do you have to talk like that?"

She waves her hand at me. "We're not in middle school."

"I told you, it's complicated. And it's over, so whatever."

She takes my hands and swings them back and forth between us. "What happened? Tell your bestest friend in the world what happened."

Her sing-song voice cracks me open. Sobs break from my throat. Tears lurch from my eyes. "I can't talk about it. He...he..." I gasp for air. "He's so stupid!"

She laughs. "Of course he's stupid. He's a man. They're all stupid. That's why we're here-women were put on earth to smack some sense into them. They think with their d.i.c.ks. We're their brains."

I sob and sniffle some more. "I don't want to have to tell him how to act. He should know these things...the things he does...he hurts me."

"Does he hit you?" She jumps off the couch. "I'll kick his a.s.s. I'll get a whole gang of guys to kick his a.s.s!"

"No!" I grab her hand and pull her back down on the couch. "He thinks he's doing nice things that I'll like, but...gah! I can't explain it." I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my robe.

She twists her lips in annoyance. "Well, you're being a little vague. Maybe it you actually told me something it would help."

I lick my lips and rub them together before blurting, "He brought another woman to bed with us the night I decided I was going to have s.e.x with him."

Shannon is speechless. She sits and stares at me, blinks a couple times. "That's never happened to me."

I'm not sure if she says it for comparison's sake, or if she honestly has no idea how to respond. "First time for me, too."

"What did you do?" She leans forward and folds the collar of my robe, straightening it.

"Nothing at first. I went along with it. Until things got a little too...personal. Then I ran out of the room and locked myself in the bathroom."

"Was it-what was it like?" She bites her nail.

"I don't know!" I stand up and take a few paces to the window. "It didn't last long. I freaked and ran out."

"Huh."

When I turn and look at her, she's still biting her nail. "What?"

"I've always wondered what I'd do in that situation, but somehow it's never come up. I'm kind of surprised it happened to you first."

"Jesus," I mutter, and turn back to the window. It's bright out, looks hot. Not as hot as Turtle Tear. I wonder what you're doing right now, how the renovations are going today.

"How'd it end?"

I spin around. "I left. I told him I couldn't deal and ran."

She shrugs a shoulder. "Seems a little drastic. I mean, he's kinky, so what?"

I shake my head. "No. No, it's more than that. I told you, it's complicated. You just have to take my word for it. It can't work out."

Shannon stands and holds her arms out. "Okay, I believe you. Come here."

I cross the room and she pulls me into a big hug. "My heart hurts."

"I know. I know it does." She pats my back. "What you need is a few cosmopolitans and new s.e.xy underwear."

"I'd rather have ice cream and sweatpants."