We return to the dining room table, and I see that Liz has brought me a sandwich. We sit, and she watches as I eat slowly. My stomach is in knots and nauseated, and I can’t quite decide if it is from emotional turmoil or from the physical turmoil my body is in. All I know is that every bite is hard to swallow and hard to keep down.
Liz knows me so well at this point, and without my saying a word, she says, “Spill it. What’s going on in your head?”
I tell her everything. Everything that Derek now knows, she knows as well, and then some. I tell her of my dreams about him. I tell her about confessing that I love him. As I cry in my stupidity, I tell her about his lack of any real response to me. She is shaking her head, with sadness for me written all over her face. Finally, I tell her of the one-sided conversation I overheard, and his cold and distant treatment of me as he left.
Liz continues to watch me with a furrowed brow before she responds, “Ash, I can tell you his conversation was with Mr. Grayson. He told me as much when he came to see me right before I came to you … but I don’t know who Morgan is. Maybe he’s a friend of Derek’s or … a manager that used to work here?”
This makes sense, of course, but again I feel the conflict between Mr. Grayson and Derek that I just can’t wrap my head around. He was obviously refusing to let me work for my benefit, and yet the moment he’d hung up the phone, he was itching to be away from me. Mr. Grayson was obviously threatening him in some way, but how?
Liz continues. “You should have seen him yesterday, Ash. He was crazy with panic when I arrived back here after you were taken. I’ve never seen him so upset and … insane!”
Her head is shaking in incredulity at her memories. I know what his terror must have felt like because it’s the exact terror I felt when I heard the man threaten Derek’s life. But how can he feel such a strong emotional need to protect me, just as I do him, and yet, not be in love with me? I thought he loved me, and my heart sinks again at the realization that he doesn’t.
But Liz isn’t ready to give up on us. “Ash, he loves you. There is no doubt in my mind that man loves you.”
Again she’s shaking her head. She’s passionate about this. She means it, and the sincerity in her voice is an unwelcome comfort. I want to sink into her world where Derek loves me beyond all doubt. I want to share her strong belief in this, but after the morning I’ve had, and the complete conflicting behavior that Derek so harshly subjected me to, I just can’t let my heart go there with her. As I shake my head in defeat, and she sees that I’m not on board with her matchmaking agenda, she gives up trying to convince me.
Instead, she pulls me to my feet and lets me in on another plan. “So … Derek has ordered that you stay with me all day! Out of sight, out of your room, and out of his…” Her face falls as she realizes what this means to me. But her face brightens, albeit forcefully, as she continues. “Movie night. Don’t get too excited. We’ll be driven and escorted by Frederick, but Derek doesn’t want us at Trimbles. Makes sense after what you’ve told me, but I have to admit, leaving doesn’t sound any safer.”
I smile at her feigned positivity before responding, “Oh, I don’t know. I’d almost rather take my chances out there than in here at the moment.” The sarcasm in my voice is dripping from the words I speak. “You don’t mind if your movie date is hopped up on Vicodin, do you?” More sarcasm, but I do my best to soften my tone with a small, pathetic smile.
She laughs at my attempt at humor, before assuring me that she does not. And so, for the remainder of the day, we lay low, eat junk food, and get ready for our night out on the town … well, guarded by Frederick, who, come to find out, used to be in the Special Forces branch of the Army before he retired and decided fucking escorts would be more fun than risking his life for a corrupt and crooked government. I can see the choice was likely an easy one. Apparently Frederick is a good man to know.
My medication is doing its job well, and I’m comfortable and pain free. However, I stagger slightly in my Vicodin haze as we leave out the same back door that Derek escorted me from less than a week ago. Frederick walks us to his waiting car, another luxurious SUV that I could comfortably and happily live in. I’m starting to think he and Derek are perhaps something of a chip off the same block. Frederick obviously has a good deal of respect for Derek, and vice versa from what I’ve gathered. I’m starting to wonder if either one of them truly belongs in this place.
Liz is actually wearing jeans, and she wears them well. She puts me to shame in her tight, dark jeans and knee-high black boots with a rather dangerous looking heel that would leave me sprawled on the ground. Her top is a shimmery, grayish silver that falls loosely across her chest while fitting her hips snuggly. Her long blonde hair is knotted at the side of her neck, trailing down her chest. I, on the other hand, am also wearing jeans, but mine are rather faded, and though they fit, they aren’t a tight fit. They are a low-rise cut that hangs at my hipbones. My shirt is on loan from Liz, a recommendation after she saw the plain V-neck T-shirt I intended to wear. It is a dark, burnt orange color that is beautiful and fitted from top to bottom, my burn safely concealed under multiple layers of large bandages. The neck falls wide on my shoulders and low on my chest and back. The only complaint I have is that the bottom of the shirt isn’t nearly as close to my bottom as I’d like. It falls slightly above the waist of my jeans, showing a small strip of tummy skin. I’m wearing a particularly interesting pair of brown, leather heels that have a very narrow but squared toe, and look like they are straight out of The Witches of Eastwick. They are funky, and were I in a mood to appreciate anything at all, I would love them. Regardless of my loaner clothes, I still pale in comparison to my sidekick.
We have dinner in a quiet Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village, and I miss Derek terribly as I watch Frederick and Liz talk comfortably with one another. Frederick is at ease touching Liz, but I can tell it isn’t because she is an escort and used to being touched. Instead, it is an intimate and personal touch, and it isn’t a new one. They have a relationship of some kind, but I can’t guess what it is or how they’ve managed to keep it a secret. Or perhaps they haven’t. Seeing them in Derek’s room the night before, he seemed so at ease in their presence. I wonder if, in fact, Derek has known about their relationship, whatever it might be. But thoughts of Derek are a cloud over my mood, and I try to push them away. He naturally pops into my mind constantly, and it becomes an exhausting battle not to allow my anxious mind to dwell on him. I want to see him, and I’m counting the minutes until we can return to Trimbles for the night and I can.
But when I approach his door a few hours later, my knocks are met with silence. Eerie and unexpected silence. After knocking a number of times, I give up and retire to my own room for the evening. I’m exhausted, and as I take the next dose of pain medication, I’m eager for the medicine to wipe me out. I’m depressed, and sad to be away from him, and I can’t guess where he could be. Is he just avoiding me? Was he sitting in his apartment simply waiting for me to leave? Is he visiting another escort for the evening? I’m torturing myself, and I’m doing a really good job at it. But as I continue to torment myself with images of other women, my mind blessedly starts to go fuzzy, and then fade away altogether. It is a relief when I finally drift away for the night. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day.