“Not that I do much sleeping,” I mumble to myself.
“Talking to yourself?” a soft southern accented voice asks from behind me. “I’ve heard it’s only dangerous if you answer.”
I jump off the bench and spin around.
Isaiah stands behind the bench, hands in his pockets and his signature smile on his face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Instead of answering, he comes around the bench, lifts an eyebrow and, at my nod, sits down. “I found this park a few weeks ago. It’s not far from my condo. I like to come here early in the morning when it’s just me.”
“Sorry I interrupted your private time.”
“There’s no reason to apologize. What brings you out this early?”
He saw me at dinner with Theo, and Isaiah is smart man. He already knows what I am and what I do.
“I’ve had a bad day.”
He gives a low whistle. “And it’s only five in the morning. That’s really bad.”
He means it as a joke, but his words bring back just how alone and destitute I am. I’m not able to stop the sob that rips through my throat.
I drop my head into my hands and give into the tears once more. I curse myself for being such a crybaby, but that doesn’t stop the tears. I cry, not caring that Isaiah is there, not caring if he gets up and leaves. Somehow, the cry is restorative. As the sobs lessen, I’m aware of a presence beside me. I sniffle and glance out of the corner of my eye. Isaiah. He hasn’t left.
“Better?” he asks.
I shrug.
“Here.” He hands me a cloth handkerchief. I take the soft piece of material and run my thumb along the monogrammed ISM. Isaiah Samuel Martin. I’m not sure what surprises me more: that Isaiah carries handkerchiefs or that he’s letting me use it.
I hold it back out to him. “I’ll mess it up.”
“It’s just cloth, Athena. Wipe your eyes, blow your nose if you want. You’ll feel better.”
I dab my eyes, just using a corner of the cloth.
“For goodness’ sake.” He snatches the handkerchief from me with one hand, holds my face with the other, and proceeds to wipe my face himself. All the time under his breath, he’s mumbling. I hear something along the lines of ‘stubborn woman’ and ‘piece of cloth’.
His hands are soft and gentle against my skin. When he brushes the handkerchief under my eyes, I close them, relishing his warmth. His touch is so different from what I’m used to. His fingers make me think of comfort and affection and something else that causes my stomach to flip flop.
“There,” he whispers, and I open my eyes to find his face mere inches from mine. His hand still cups my chin, and his thumb traces my cheekbone.
“Thank you,” I answer in my own whisper.
He swallows, glances at my lips, and drops his hands. “It was nothing.” He scoots away as far as possible.
I glance down at my hands, unable to meet his expression. I hate that he’s sorry he touched me. Even though we are alone in the park, it suddenly feels too stifling. I need to leave. To get away. Figure out what I’m going to do. I stand up.
He holds out hand. “Don’t leave. I moved away because I didn’t want you to think I was coming onto you.”
“I’d never think that.”
“Sit down and tell me why today’s so bad.”
I don’t want to tell him too much about Mike. I don’t know how close they are ,and I’m not stupid. I keep it simple. “I want out.”
He nods. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere, it seems. I’ve managed to save some money over the years. Not a lot, but enough to get me out of here. I went to get it,” my voice drops, “it’s gone.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.” I reach into my pocket. “There was a note.”
He takes it from me and reads with a solemn expression. “Who would do this? How could anyone do this?”
“Real easy like.”
His eyebrows wrinkle up. “It has to be someone who’s watching you.”
“I have a few ideas, but it’s nothing I’m in a position to pursue.”
He sighs. “You should call the police.”
It sounds just like something a naïve know-it-all would say. “Did you miss the part about me not being in a position to pursue anything?”
“I guess I need you to explain it to me, because the way I see it, you’re the victim of a crime and it’s the police department’s job to help you.”
I glare at him, but can’t find it in my heart to be angry. I guess for some people, life really is that black and white. Too bad the rest of us have to live with all the different hues in between.
“Look,” I finally say when he continues to look at me with his hopeful expression. “I know you weren’t born yesterday, and that in your world life is full of this is right and this is wrong, but you have understand that most of us live somewhere in between the two. The police won’t listen to me. Even if they did, I have no way to prove that money was mine or even existed in the first place.”
He drums his fingers on his thigh, and I see his mind spinning with ideas, possibilities he could offer. “I could talk to Mike –”
“No!” I jump up. I tremble just thinking about him talking to Mike. Of what Mike would do after.
“Mike and I are close, and he’s powerful. He’ll help, I’m sure.” His expression looks decided. “I’ll just explain –”
“What part of no don’t you get?” So much for keeping Mike out of the conversation.“You don’t know how Mike is. What he’s capable of.”
“He’s a good man. He’s helping me.”
“He’s evil.”
“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
I stomp over so I’m in front of him and place my hands on my hips. “You don’t believe me about Mike, and yet you think the police will believe someone stole ten grand from me?” I snort. “Yeah, I’m going to the police department. Right now. Know what? Forget I brought it up. I got myself into this, and I’ll deal with it.”
“I’ve upset you. I’m sorry.”
My breathing is deep and heavy. “I just thought if anyone would believe me, it’d be you.”
His eyes lock onto mine. “I believe you.”
I sit down beside him again, making sure not to touch him in the process. “I’m still out ten grand.”
Somehow, it feels better knowing he believes me. Granted, it doesn’t feel good enough to make up for losing all my money, but I don’t feel quite so alone. “I’m right back where I started.”
“No. You’re not.”
“You’re right. I’m worse off. Before, I had money.”
“Don’t you see?” he asks. “You’ve made an important decision. You decided to get out. To leave.”
“Lot of good that’s done, right? I can’t leave if I don’t have the means.”
“I don’t see why you can’t just walk out.”
“And go where?” I sigh. “It’ll take me another ten years to save that much money again. I don’t think I’ll last that long. And I tried to leave once before.”
He looks at me warily. “What happened?”
At the moment, I want nothing more than to soak in a hot, steamy bath. I feel so dirty. Truthfully, though, anything would better than sitting here talking about things I’d rather forget.
“I’d been in Vegas about a year and a half.” I close my eyes, picturing the one other time I’d gathered up the nerve to leave. “I had a pocket full of cash and thought I’d head back home, try to finish school. But as I waited for the bus, I knew I didn’t have enough money and that’d I’d be right back to selling myself.”
“What did you do?”
I shrugged. “When the bus left, I was still here. Choking on exhaust fumes and trying not to look at Mike’s self-satisfied expression when he walked outside to take me back.”
“You never tried to leave again?” Isaiah asks.
“I thought about it a time or two, but never acted on it.” I never told anyone so much about me, not even Vicki. Of course, I don’t share with him how Mike forced me to show my ‘gratitude’ when he took me back.
“After a while, it gets easier to stick with what you know. The way I saw it, I had a nice room, food, clothes.” A tear forces its way through my eyelids, even though I close them tight. “I just had. . . I just had to give pieces of myself away, night after night after night.”