Page 10 of Chance Happenings
Shocked at Chance’s abrupt cooperative behavior, I continue to play nice as well. “Ok, give me thirty minutes,” I say, ushering him back out of the room and locking the door.
Chance
That went well… I think, walking out the door to get ready. I don’t know what’s pissing me off more, this stupid smile on my face or Alexa’s avoidance. She has to know there’s a discussion about her safety to be had.
Thirty-five minutes later, she meets me in the main living area. Ready to go, looking sexy as hell. Normally, I would describe that as a female with smoky looking makeup and a formfitting dress. But that’s not Alexa. She has a natural face with black pants hugging her in all the right places, a sleek looking grey top and some ankle boots. A look that is all her and nothing like I expected when Cacey was given free rein as her personal shopper for this business trip. Right now, I really don’t care who picked out the damn outfit. I was just thankful to be on the receiving end of a genuine smile from Alexa. True to form, she takes charge as we leave the hotel, hailing the cab and giving specific directions the driver should take to the restaurant. As a result, we end up arriving with plenty of time to spare.
As good as the food is, I really don’t want to ruin it by bringing up Pearce, but at this point it can’t be helped. I’ve been bursting at the seams all day to get to the bottom of whatever Cacey was hinting at last night. I know once we get back to the room, Alexa will lock up and shutdown, figuratively and literally, so this will be my only opportunity. When the waitress comes back with Alexa’s third glass of Chablis, I decide to make my move, so to speak.
“So, tell me about your time in New York.” I say, trying to break the ice gently.
“Which part?” She fires back, taking a big gulp of her wine. I can already tell she’s ready for a fight, so I decide against this breaking the ice bullshit and just jump right in with both feet.
“How about the part where you turned complete pussy, start letting dudes beat on you for kicks, stay with them and then lie about it.” The statement’s not delicate and I’m going about this all wrong, I know. But when you piss Alexa off, you get an honest reaction.
“Wow,” she says, laughing. Sufficiently dousing some of my anger and confusing the hell out of me at the same time. When she finally stops, her smile turns dark, and I don’t know if she wants to crawl under the table and cry or throat punch me. So I give her a minute. She starts to speak, and I know then she’ll go for the throat punch if given the opportunity. “I can’t believe that you’re going to sit here judging me and demanding I tell you anything. In case you haven’t realized it, I don’t owe you shit… never have. But since you already know anyway, waiting to bask in my humiliation, I’ll tell you the whole story. Not that it’s any of your business.” She goes into her story, getting lost in the moment, still managing to sneer at me with unshed tears in her eyes. She’s beyond tipsy at this point and is spitting out some of the most disturbing shit I’ve heard tell of happening to anyone I know.
I can’t believe while I was back home resenting her for running away tofindherself and what she and Cacey call a checklist boyfriend, she was fighting for her life. Living with her supposed dream guy and worst nightmare all rolled into one. As she continues to talk, I feel the urge to stop her knowing that I can't listen to too much more without saying fuck this itinerary and start combing the streets for this dude ASAP. But since I'm the one who instigated this conversation, I let her get whatever she needs off her chest. I’ll deal with the repercussions later.
Sometime during the conversation, I schedule an Uber to get us back to the hotel. The restaurant employees were nice enough to let us be, and we were able to make it out right before closing time. I leave a big tip for the waitress, who was nothing but accommodating to us, before leading Alexa out of the restaurant with my hand on the small of her back.Don’t ask me why. I guess her vulnerability has brought out my protective side.
The ride home is quiet, and I’m wondering what Alexa is thinking about the entire way to the hotel. Outside of that fucked up story, I'm sorry our night is coming to an end. But glad to know from Alexa’s own mouth that her life with Pearce is over.
Even though I hated the girl that she was when we were kids...my nemesis...my rival. I hateeven more the woman he forced her to become. She’s no longer that fiery, smart mouthed, quick-witted girl that left so long ago, instead she’s just a shell of herself. Since her return, I’ve occasionally been able to ignite some of the fire she once held in her youth. If I’m being honest, many times that we were at odds, I'd purposely instigate the confrontation just to see a spark.
Breaking the silence, I say the first thing that comes to mind as an idea forms in my head to make this night last a little longer. “You know what, I have an idea. This is your city, and I made plans for dinner. Why don't you show me some of the nightlife and we hit up a bar or something?” I let my words hang as I wait for a response. Alexa looks at me like I’m crazy and politely declines, citing the long day we have planned for tomorrow. That’s a totally logical response. So I decide not to push my luck and remain silent for the rest of the ride.
Alex
The dinner with Chance was surprisingly refreshing. Outside of his rude request badgering me to divulge things that I no longer wanted to think about, I enjoyed his company. I can’t believe I spent the whole time spilling story after story and voluntarily embarrassing myself in front of this man that I hate. But for the first time since we met, Chance became one of the easiest persons to talk to. Tonight, he was the oil that loosened my lips and the inner workings of my mind, allowing me to freely tell secrets that were only for me to know. Instead of being the oil to my water, repelling me at every turn. Or maybe it was just the alcohol.
When we get in the Uber, I notice a car like the one that was in front of my house last week. It was a blacked-out SUV, which is nothing out of the ordinary for vehicles in New York, but I knew that this was no coincidence so when Chance brings up the idea of us going out to a bar I politely declined and continued to look out for the vehicle following us.After blocks and blocks of monitoring the SUV, we reached our hotel and I’m pretty sure I was the only person noticing it following us. As we get out of the car, Chance once again puts his hand on the small of my back, leading me into the hotel. I'm not sure what’s come over him, but he sure has been playing nice this whole trip.
As soon as Chance opens the hotel room door, I’m struck stock-still as a familiar scent assaults my senses. Without walking further into the room, I’m 100% sure that Pearce had been here. Chance stops to turn around, giving me a questioning look, waiting for me to come further into the room. But I’m unable to think of anything besides the possibility of facing Pearce again tonight.
“What's wrong?” Chance asks. He’s now completely still, focusing all his attention on me.
“Nothing, I just have this odd feeling that someone's been in here.” At that statement Chance clears the suite, room by room, like it’s his day job. He comes back, escorts me to my room, and asks if anything looks out of place. On sight I say no and tell I’m going to bed.
After changing into my night clothes and getting into bed, I feel a piece of fabric against my leg underneath the covers. Angrily I flip back the comforter, thinking about these trifling housekeepers not properly cleaning the linens at a place they're charging $800 a night for, and stop dead in my tracks. The fabric is a pair of red lacy underwear…mine to be specific,or a pair that used to be mine before I left them behind. I remember the morning I got this pair of underwear and the feeling I had as I opened the La Perla bag. It was part of a set that Pearce bought me after the night I fought back…
“Why doesn’t this Cacey chick get the message and stop calling you,” Pearce asks. I roll my eyes, thinking, here we go again with this bullshit before I answer.
“I don't know, Pearce. I told her I've been busy.”
“Are you sure it's her and not that brother of hers?” I laugh at the hilarity of his jealousy, thinking Chance would ever call me. But as always, that was a move that provoked him even further. “What the fuck is so funny? You taking me for a joke. Am I telling jokes now?”
“It’s a misunderstanding,” I say. Just wanting him to calm down. “I just think it’s funny you would think he's calling me when he hates me.” This seems to make him angrier as he rushes to get in my face.
“Yeah, you’re saying that now. But it’s always Chance this, Chance that. I don't believe the words coming out of your lying mouth and don't think I didn’t notice you conveniently worded that it was him that hated you and not the other way around.” What I did next ignited the beginning of an onslaught of brutality that I never want to experience again.
“I'm lying!!! What about you lying to me about all these random numbers calling throughout the night!” I immediately remember wanting to take the words back as soon as they left my mouth. But love and pride will make you do crazy things. When I looked into Pearce’s eyes that were getting darker by the second, I went with love and pride instead of my good sense. “What? You don’t have anything to say now that I'm calling you out on your shit!” I let out a small chuckle as I turned to walk away and head to the bedroom to sulk, only to be propelled forward by an outside force, tightly gripping the back of my neck. I remember the burst of pain as my face hit the door…. I remember a series of blows that followed as I crumbled to the ground, curling up into a ball as Pearce cursed and ranted about me disrespecting him…. I remember the louder he yelled and the harder he hit me, the less I heard and felt…. That was the first night I went to my safe place.
Bang! bang! bang! I’m jolted out of my thoughts by a banging at the door.
Chance
I don’t know why, but I get the urge to go pester Alexa again. I just can’t leave well enough alone and leave tonight on a semi-good note. When she opens the door, she has on those damn short shorts again, looks sort of pale and is scowling at me something fierce. I ignore it as usual, pushing my way into the room. When I look around thinking about her earlier concern, I scope out a pair of red panties peeking from underneath the comforter. Alexa must notice them too because as I go to pick them up, she races across the room to grab them before I can. But I’m quicker. I reach for the panties while completely blocking her path with my body. As soon as my hand touches the fine silk, my senses are jolted by her soft, warm body that slams into my back. She lands on top of me, trying to take them away, but there’s no chance of that happening. I realize this current situation is inappropriate on so many levels, but I can’t even bring myself to care. Alexa on top of me is all that my mind and body registers as a painful swell forms in my pants. She must feel the connection too because after a couple of long paused seconds, she jumps away from me like I’m on fire. Which I very well may be judging on how hot it’s gotten in the room. I ignore Alexa scowling at me as I inspect the pricey undergarment.
