Page 76 of How We End
“I had this inflated idea that I was special because I was pretty.I would step off that bus and the world would fall at my feet.”I laughed at how fucking stupid I had been back then.How small I thought the world was.
“But LA is filled with beautiful people.And at eighteen, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.I had no skills, and my parents couldn’t help.I slept on couches and floors.Worked shitty jobs and dated even shittier men just so I had a place to sleep.Then I met Cricket.She said I needed to stop givingitaway.That I could make a lot of money with a face and a body like mine.She worked for this service.I applied and got hired.”I wasn’t a victim.I did this to myself.I knew the risks.
“I did not know what I was doing.”I laughed at how stupid younger me had been.“My first client was the owner of a bar.I made three hundred dollars.Then my second was an accountant.I made six.My third was a casino owner.I made a thousand.It was more money than I had ever seen.
“But the agency took forty percent.I wanted more, and that made me careless.I thought since they were rich, I wouldn’t end up likethosegirls.I didn’t stand on the street corner.Men sent cars for me.I wore designer clothing.
“A regular offered two grand for three hours if I booked him off the record.He liked to call me names, slap my ass.He was harmless.Or so I thought.He booked a hotel in Beverly Hills.But this time…” I fought the memories of that night.They clawed their way, leaving their bloody prints all over.“I thought it would be fine.A couple slaps, and he’d be done.But that was just foreplay.”
“He couldn’t get it up unless… he, um… he broke three of my ribs, fractured my jaw and orbital bone.When he started choking me, I hit him with the alarm clock.”I remembered the sound of the heavy clock hitting his head and blood and the blind fear of getting out of there.“I got away in nothing more than his suit coat.”
I couldn’t look at Julian.I didn’t want to see his pity.I wasn’t a victim.I brought it all on myself.“I made it to the lobby.He said I attacked him and stole his wallet.Which was in the suit coat.They arrested me.”
“Wyatt.”Julian breathed out my name.
“Don’t.I don’t want your pity.I’m not a victim.I fucked up.”I had told no one what really happened that night.Margo knew a version.Jackson knew what Maverick told him.Even Maverick didn’t know the extent.
“I’m sorry.”Julian stood behind me.
“For what?You didn’t make me get on that bus to LA.You didn’t tell me to go to that hotel room.Those were all my decisions.”
“I’m sorry so many people failed you.”He turned me to face him.His eyes searching my face for the proof of all the broken bones.If he looked close enough, he could see the scar by my ear, the one in my hairline.Maverick had made sure I had the best plastic surgeon.Richard Valentine.
“There is nothing to apologize for.”
“Was it Maverick?”
“No.Maverick was number three.”He had wanted something young and beautiful to spend time with.That was me.He took me to dinner and bought me clothing.We’d spend weekends together.He spoiled me.I thought that meant he loved me.
“I called him because I had no one.My mother told me to figure it out.I don’t know what would have happened to me if he hadn’t sent Jackson.If his wife hadn’t nursed me back to health.”When Dana learned this, she was furious—not that Maverick brought his mistress to Las Vegas, but that Jackson was helping me shower and caring for me.
She showed up with movies, homemade soup, and drew me a bath.I cried for the first time that night as Dana gently combed the tangles out of my hair.She stayed that night and the next three with me.
“I should kill that fucker.Break every one of his ribs.His nose and face and all the bones attached to them.”
“He’s dead.”The man in the hotel was.But he died an easy death compared to the life he lived.
“Not him.Maverick.”
“Didn’t you hear me?It was Maverick who gave me somewhere to live.My mother wouldn’t even do that.He gave me Jackson and Margo.A place to do what I do.”
“No, Wyatt.He took advantage of you.He is still taking advantage of you.I’m so sorry.”He pulled me into his embrace, grunting through the pain.“I’m so fucking sorry.If I could change it, I would’ve been there.I would have protected you from these fucking men.”
I looked up at him.“And at eighteen, what would you have done?”
“Anything.Given you options.My bed.My last dollar.Anything but what he did to you.What he is still doing.”He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.I didn’t know what to say to that.It was so easy to say what we would’ve done.
Neither of us said anything.My confession sucked all the air out of the room.“I shouldn’t have told you.”People’s pity was why I didn’t tell them.
He ducked to meet my gaze.“I want you to listen to me and remember this.If we end tomorrow, and three years from now, you need something, you call me.I’ll be there.Wherever you need me, I will be there.”
His words took my breath away.To tell someone you loved them was simple.People love things all the time.But this.This was bigger than that.“Why?You’d owe me nothing.”
“I don’t want you to ever have to make another decision based on fear or because you have no choice.I will always take care of you.I promise.”
I had to quit.Because that tug was threatening to tear me open.“Where have you been all my life?”
“In all the wrong places, love.With all the wrong people.”
