"Sure girlfriend," Monica replied, grabbing a cloth and heading behind a rack of clothes to get to the small sink. "I guess Mister know-it-all doesn't think I can go on solo." She reappeared from behind the clothes and handed Crystal the wet cloth. "Fuck him. I'll take advantage of having a Friday night off and go home and relax. You gonna be all right?"
"Ow, yeah I'm sure." She pressed the cloth gingerly around her lip, gently wiping the excess blood away. "I'm not spending the next year paying off an emergency room bill for a bloodied lip." Standing up slowly, Crystal walked over to the dressing table and slumped into the chair. "Shit. Looks like someone used me for a punching bag."
"Oh man, Crys, what happened to your back?"
"I landed on a cigarette, I think." She turned in her seat, craning her neck to see the blackened, ash-covered burn. She hissed at the sight of it. "Ooh that looks nasty."
"I think you need to have someone take a look at that," Monica said.
"No. I'll just soak in the tub when I get home. It'll clean it right up." She looked in the mirror to see the redhead's expression. "Don't worry. I've been through worse than this, I promise." I've never had a flashback in the middle of performance before, though, she admitted to herself. "Listen, Mon. Could you do me a favor? Wait until I'm done getting dressed and walk me to my car, will ya?" She cast a glance at the mirror, noting the purpling bruise forming around her left aureole. Other mirrors, other bruises flashed before her mind's eye, making her feel even more unsettled. "Please? I'll only be few minutes."
"Boy, you're really shook up, aren't ya?" Monica asked, setting her purse down on the table. "Of course I'll stay and walk you to your car. Where are you parked?"
"Over by the dumpster. You know they haven't fixed that light yet."
"Of course not. While it's not working they're not paying as much in electricity." She reached into the cubicle reserved and pulled out Crystal's clothes. "Here you go, girlfriend."
"Thanks." She took the shirt and, careful of her injured lip, pulled it down over her head. Next came getting it past her tender breast without rubbing against the cigarette burn on her back. Monica gratefully noticed her predicament and helped her get the shirt on. Crystal pulled her pants and sneakers on, stuffing her socks in her pockets. The noise from the patrons filtered through the wall, reminding her that she was only a few feet from where she'd just been assaulted. "Did Rick throw that guy out?" The pause was enough to give her the answer. "Of course."
"Crys, remember that guy is there with all his buddies. If Rick throws him out the others will leave too."
"Yeah yeah, I've heard it before." She angrily pulled a cigarette out of her pack, bringing it to her lips only to stop and move it to the opposite side. "I'm ready."
They walked out the side entrance and over to where Crystal's car was parked.
"Thanks again, Monica. You sure you don't want a ride to your car?"
"No, I'm right over here." She pointed at the minivan parked several spots down the row. "How long you think it'll be before you can come back?"
"It'll be a few days before the swelling goes down but with makeup, who knows. I'll give you a call." Looking at the brick building, a haze of smoke coming out the screened windows, Crystal felt her stomach churn at the thought of entering it again. Without thought, her right hand came up to cover her injured left breast. She closed her eyes and leaned against her car, hoping the night air would clear her mind.
"You really sure you're okay?" Monica asked.
"Yeah, sorry. Just tired I guess." She opened the car door. "Beep me Monday. I'll let you know what's going on." She stepped into the car and waited until she heard Monica's car door shut before starting her own engine and pulling out of the parking lot.
Crystal drove up the busy main avenue of the city, more than once looking around to make sure her car doors were locked. She didn't turn on the radio, preferring instead the solitude allowed by the silence. Her lip throbbed as did her back and breast, refusing to let her forget what happened that evening. She pulled into the brightly lit parking lot of the liquor store, noting that there were still time before they closed. The need to reach oblivion became stronger with each passing minute. A shortage of cash allowed her only one pint of whiskey but that didn't stop her from opening it the second she returned to the car.
"Dammit." She took another swallow, feeling the booze burning its way down her throat. "Why the fuck does this have to keep happening?" She pounded her heel on the steering wheel. "I'm so tired of this, so fucking tired." The sting of tears burned her eyes but she refused to give in, instead starting the car and squealing tires as she sped out of the parking lot.
Chapter Fifth
Laura heard the door unlock and stopped typing. A quick glance at the clock in the lower right hand corner of her computer screen confirmed it was far too early for Crystal to be home. "Crystal?" she called, rising to her feet and opening her bedroom door.
"Yeah, it's just me." As she stepped onto the landing, Laura could easily see the puffed lips and broken skin. "There was an incident at the club tonight."
"Let's get you cleaned up." She guided Crystal into the bathroom, pretending not to notice the paper bag in the stripper's hand or the way it was covertly set down on the floor next to the toilet.
"I can"
"No argument," Laura said, cutting off the protest. "Whether you want to tell me what happened or not is up to you but I'm not going to let you let this go untreated." She opened the medicine cabinet and took out the peroxide, cotton balls, and antibiotic cream. "Here, sit on the toilet and tip your head back."
"Is it really that bad?"
"You don't want to get a scar, do you?" Holding a cotton ball over the sink, Laura soaked it with peroxide. "I have to clean it first to see how bad it really is. Hold still, this might sting."
"Yeouch!"
"I told you. Now hold still." Cotton ball after cotton ball was used to gently cleanse the area. "That looks pretty nasty."
"I think he was wearing a ring."
That explains the jagged looking cut, she thought to herself. "So you want to tell me what happened?"
"Mud wrestling, a drunken asshole and an even worse asshole for a club manager," Crystal sighed. "Easy."
"Sorry. I really think you could use a stitch here just to be on the safe side."
"No. I really don't want to have anyone look at it."
"Okay. I think I have some butterflies in the first aid kit. But you have to keep it covered with the ointment to keep it from scarring." She stopped wiping and gently cupped Crystal's chin with her fingers. You have such a pretty face
The thought entered her mind and almost passed her lips. "Let me get the butterfly."
After the bandage was in place and the bruised area treated, Laura stepped back to give it one last check. "There. I think that will take care of it. You'll have to keep putting the ointment on but I think it'll heal up fine." She began straightening things up.
"Laura?"
"Yes?" She turned to see Crystal looking at her nervously.
"Um there's another place," she began, standing up and turning her back to the writer. "I figured I'd soak in the tub and that would take care of it but "
"Let me see." To her surprise, Crystal began lifting her shirt. "Where is it?"
"On my back. I think I fell on an ashtray and got burned."
Laura knelt down until her face was level with the small of Crystal's back. She reached up and took over the task of lifting the shirt. There on the right shoulder blade was the burn. "Ooh."
"It is a burn, right?"
"Oh yeah, looks like you landed right on a cigarette. I'll get the burn cream and a gauze pad." She turned away quickly, opening the linen closet and staring past the cream. Why do you always end up getting hurt? "This happened at the club?"