Time to move on...

“Mace, you on that treadmill AGAIN?” Angela tried to raise her voice over the music I was playing to keep me going on a steady pace. The fast baseline of ‘Freestyler’ by Bombfunk MC’s was busting through my surround sound system. Pearls of sweat had formed on my face and I grabbed the remote to turn down the volume.

“Yeah, sure, you know I need to keep in shape!” I answered while still trying to maintain the same pace. It was one thing to work out alone, with some good music to keep you going, it was another to also talk at the same time. Angela gave me a pitiful look but I ignored her as I took a big gulp from my water bottle. I was going to get that firm ass and those sleek thighs, even if I had to work out two hours a day.

Angela walked out into the kitchen to get herself a drink and I tried to get back to focusing on the task that lay beforehand. Thankfully, time had flown by faster than I thought and my alarm was already going off. I slacked off my cooling down period and enthusiastically jumped off the treadmill. Not a smart idea after being on it for forty minutes. With a loud “OOMPH!”, I smacked to the ground just as Angela came walking back in. “Smooth moves Mace, is that also in preparation of your big night?”

I hated how she pronounced ‘big night’ in a condescending way. She knew what this night meant to me. It would be a chance for a new beginning. Stumbling back onto my feet I grunted: “Shut up!” in my defense. Angela just laughed and followed me to my master bedroom.
As I started stripping off my sweaty clothes I continued: “I want to look my best, you never know who I might run into!”

“Yeah girl, you might just meet your knight in shining armor, who knows.” Even though Angela’s voice got muffled a little because I continued my way into the bathroom, leaving the door half-open, I replied: “Hey, at least I am trying to do something about it!”

“Can’t deny that!” I heard her answer right before I turned on the shower. After a quick shower we took an hour and a half to get through all of my wardrobe possibilities and then ordered some take-out and spent the rest of the night on the couch.

***

“Mace, calm down, you will do fine!” Angela’s voice echoed through my apartment from the speakerphone in my bedroom. I was sitting on the floor in front of my bed, in a pair of pants and my bra, my knees pulled up, my arms leaning on my legs and my head resting in my arms. I was trying not to hyperventilate. “Angel, I can’t do this. I am not ready yet!”

“Sweety it has been nine months, it’s time to move on! He has!” She added on, mumbling: “Lord knows, he has.”

“You’re not being helpful!” I said in a scornful tone. I could hear her sigh on the other side of the line. “Ok, Mace, look at it this way, you paid forty bucks for this night. Drinks are included, at the very least you can get yourself drunker than ever for forty bucks!”

I burst out laughing. “Angel you are crazy, but you’re right.” My breathing was still uneven. “I need to lighten up a bit.”

“Time to put your outfit on, remember, you want to say sexy, but also distinguished and independent!” I crawled up from the floor and walked to my closet. I knew exactly what I would wear. I had the perfect black pants that I had bought months ago, one size too small, but thanks to my treadmill they fit now. On top I put on a blouse, with a fine crease pressed into it. The blouse was aquamarine blue, it brought out the color brown of my eyes. Leaving the top three buttons open I showed just enough cleavage to show it was there, but still be mysterious enough about it.

“Angel I need to blow-dry my hair, need to let you go, ok?”

“Are you sure you’re ready? Can I let go of your hand now?”

“Yes”, I sighed, “I am fine now, thank you! Love you, bye!”

By this time I was standing next to the machine and clicked Angela away right after these words. Time to get my hair and make-up ready, both of course had to look like I had put no effort into it at all, which result could only be achieved after at least an hour of work.

An hour later, after checking my butt in the mirror one more time, all ready and a little ahead of schedule I stepped into the elevator of my building.

“Excuse me, what floor is this?” Two bright green eyes looked straight into mine.

“Fifth.” I answered and I added a little smile to my answer. He returned the favor and at the same time stuck his hand out.

“I’m George.” His voice was a warm baritone. Besides the amazing green eyes he had light brown hair, in a neat cut, a dimple in his right cheek and an athletic posture. He was wearing a nice pair of designer jeans and a buttoned-down black shirt.

“I’m new to the building.” He added as he shook my hand after I had taken his. “In fact, I am new to the city.” I had already opened my mouth to introduce myself but he interrupted me.

“I am so sorry, I am being rude, please, speak.” His whole manor had something very gentlemanlike and I found myself very attracted to him.

“I am Macy, 5F.” I said in a way to businesslike way. Again he gave me his nice smile and I suddenly felt the need to lean into one of the elevator walls.

“So where are you from?” I asked him, hoping that I sounded casual this time.
“Other side of the country.” He answered short but amused. “I am from Charleston, North Carolina.”

“How nice to have a Southern gentleman added to our building.” My attempt to be friendly was lame, I knew, but I found myself not knowing anything better to say.

However he laughed at my remark and said: “You might want to leave the gentleman part out.” He added a little wink. Was he flirting with me? By this time the elevator bell dinged and we both had to get out on the ground floor. Southern gentleman or not, he let me step out first and then rushed past me to open the door for me.

“TAXI!” I had walked up to the curve and hailed a cab to get me downtown. No way I was going to take the subway in this outfit!

I got into my taxi and before it took off I glanced at my new handsome neighbor and wondered if my plans for tonight might be redundant. Perhaps I should look at what’s right in front of me. As the city started rushing by though, I quickly forgot about my conversation in the elevator and tried to poise myself for the night ahead of me.

After yet another hectic cab-ride (why do I still keep getting in?) I finally got there about ten minutes before it was supposed to start. I liked being early, especially when I had to go somewhere so far out of my comfort zone. It gave me a chance to score the room, make me feel more comfortable. The other advantage I found out was that I got to pick a table because I was so early.

Ten minutes later, after carefully scoping out the right table, the room started filling up very quickly with men and women my age. I looked at the women to see if there was any competition. I saw a bunch of women who must have been at least five years younger than me, it was more obvious in the way they dressed and handled themselves then by their faces. Women in their early twenties tend to dress a little more obvious. Show more cleavage and legs because in their minds more is less. When you pass twenty five you start learning that less can be more and sexy is not in the way you dress. I noticed a bunch of guys who would definitely go for these younger women, they were already eyeing them from the other side of the room. Well, I wasn’t looking for a man like that anyway. While I was still scoping out a possible date, suddenly a bell rang and a guy sat down in front of me.

I tried to smile and take my time but he started talking immediately, it was obvious that he had done this before. While he was introducing myself I had already decided that I wasn’t going to like him, since he was one of the guys scoping out the half-dressed girls earlier on. I guessed he was in his early thirties, a career man but even though he had the arrogance, he lacked a certain charisma and I guessed he wasn’t as successful as he made it sound. He had dark blond hair and a very standard I-go-to-the-gym-every-morning-posture. When the bell rang it felt like it had been an hour and I couldn’t remember saying much at all.

Soon enough the second guy sat down. I had to look twice and try not to laugh. A four foot five, bald and clearly middle aged guy, with glasses from the eighties and a history professor like tweed suit sat down and stuck out a small but sweaty hand. Out of politeness I took it as he began to speak with a voice more fitting a squirrel then a grown man.

“Hi, I am Donald, nice to meet you!”

“Macey, likewise.” I said with little to no enthusiasm. He seemed to be excited enough for the both of us. He couldn’t sit still on his chair as he was chattering away, constantly asking me the weirdest questions.

“Have you ever been married before? I have.”

“No.”

“What color are the walls in your house? Mine are all neutrals, I like neutrals, do you?”

“Sure.”

“What are your hobby’s? Do you like painting by numbers?”

“Not really..” I had no idea how to respond to this guy and couldn’t have been happier to hear the bell.

By now I had given up on the concept, I looked at the faces around the room, all still full of expectation. I wished I still had the innocent expectations some of the people here had, I had lost my naivety after Branden had broken up with me. He had cheated on me and not only that, just three months after our break-up they had announced their engagement. We had been together for six years and he never even hinted towards marriage, but apparently, while still with her, he had found the love of his life.

Lost in my thoughts I had not even noticed the next guy who had moved towards my table and had sat himself down. And somehow he had not felt the need to draw my attention.

“Are you as bored by this as I am?” The voice, that sounded somewhat familiar, woke me from my daydreams and I focused on the face in front of me. If I had meant to make a funny retort, my words left me the instant I looked at him. And to top of the wonderful impression I was making on him, I started stammering.

“I…uhm…well I wouldn’t say…he…eeerhm…Hi!”

“Wow, so boring it’s got you at a loss for words huh?” He had a slight grin on his face as he said this. Was he taunting me? He quickly glanced to the guy to the right from him, Donald. When he turned back to me his smile had grown wider.

“So this guy must make a really good chance, should I even talk to you?”

That finally broke the ice and I started laughing.

“I am sorry, after the guys that have sat down at my table so far I wasn’t expecting anything good anymore, especially not you!” Oh no! Did I really say that? Now he must think I am some weird sad girl. And just being here already added to that fact. But wait, he was here too!

“So what brings you here?” I dared to ask him. He smiled again and with his slight Southern accent said: “Figured it would be a good way to meet some new people here. Didn’t realize I was going to meet my neighbor, haha!”

I smiled and again found myself at a loss for words. Why couldn’t I just make conversation with a handsome guy? Even if this wasn’t going to be anything romantic, at least it would be nice to have a nice male friend in the building. Suddenly I heard Angela’s voice echoing through my head: “What do you have to lose?” and whether this was her speaking or my un conscious, I decided that the voice was right.

“Well, I’ll be happy to show you some nice coffee places and bars you can check out!” I gave him my warmest “I-am-not-trying-to-come-on-to-you-but-do-you-like-it?” look.

“Well that sounds like an excellent plan!” He leaned in closer and said: “In fact, why don’t we call this thing a night and go find one of those places?” I suppressed a giggle. Did he actually say that? Were they really that tacky in North Carolina? Because here something like that would never fly. And yet I could not stop myself from saying: “Good idea, I have seen enough here!”

I felt like a teenager sneaking out of school as we stood up, as casual as possible, and slowly started walking out of the room. I tried not to look at all the people looking at us, and in an attempt to do that, I looked at him. He gave me a warm smile and suddenly I knew walking out of here with him was the smartest thing I had done in months.

As we walked to the elevator I glanced at the organizers of the night and could see their surprised looks. One of them was definitely not a star in subtleness as she bent over to her college and whispered just a tad too loud: “I hate it when there’s two people who cannot even wait an hour until the night is over before they hit the sack together.” All I did was smile at her. Little did she know.

When the elevator doors closed he looked at me and said: “So, Macy, 5F....” This time his smile was seductive and slowly I leaned into the elevator wall again. This could become a very interesting night……

The price of freedom

I wrote this story as one of four versions of an entry for a short story contest. Allthough edited and revised (once) this story never made the cut. However I would love to get reviews on it, as I put in the effort and know I have much to learn. Fell free to leave me any constructive feedback. Thnx!

Brief synopsis:
I know this is not where I want my life to go. So after years of living in this hell, it is time for me to take a stand and fight for my freedom.


“I told you I have no idea where the money went!” I gasp as he slams me into the wall of the hotel room. “You’d better stop lying to me, cookie!” he growls in my face. I just turn my head away. We have been through this many times before, his threats don’t scare me anymore. He has broken my arms and ribs, bruised my body and hurt me so many times I have learned to shut myself down when he gets like this. I work very hard for this money and I hate it. Right now, it’s my only option will have to be strong like I know I can be.

He releases his grip on me and I drop to the floor. Even though I know it’s what he wants, I refuse to cry. I have cried my tears long ago. I stay seated and watch as he sits down on the bed. “What am I to do with you cookie?” He says, and I know it’s a rhetorical question. He gives me his ugly stare as he reaches to the back of his pants and draws out his gun. Here we go again, I think as he points the gun at me. I stare at him blankly. If we are going to have a sit down I am sure as hell not going to be the first one to give in. I start to observe him. His hair is too long, too greasy and it makes him look like an Eastern European mob guy, although his name is Clarence and he was born and raised in Greenwich, New York. I always wondered where picked up his street skills as he most definitely did not learn them growing up.

Some people say kids become criminals because of their environment. Not this guy though, I think he was born evil. He always dresses a little off. It’s like you can see he has money, but he just doesn’t know how to spend it. He wears a suit that looks like it was once very nice. Now it’s just faded and dirty, as if he hasn’t washed it in a month. I bet it smells murky as well, I am hopeful I won’t find out whether I am right or wrong today, but you never know with Clarence. He can be slamming you against the wall in anger one minute and the slamming you against the headboard in excitement the next. He says he does it to test his ‘product’. He needs to know what he’s selling. He knows I don’t buy into it and just let him have his way to get it over with. I stopped fighting him a long time ago, discovering very early in our ‘relationship’ that it was useless. He would just break my arm or ribs and still make me work.

The only thing about him that looks nice is his tie. He always wears a nice tie and I have never seen any of them more than once. Of course it’s one of his favorite instruments as well. Perhaps that’s why he always wears a new one. After five minutes, he’s still pointing his gun and staring at me. We have done this ritual so many times I am almost at a point where I want stand up and say: “Come on Clarence, let’s cut the crap here.” But I don’t. I let him have his little stare down, knowing it will eventually frustrate him beyond the point of reason and he will either beat me half to death, strangle me half to death or fuck me half to death. I’ve been through all three and no longer have a preference so I just sit and wait. I don’t think he can see how bored I am getting here. I wonder what’s going on in his mind. Is he deciding what he’ll do to me this time? Or trying to figure out where I could have hidden the money, which I have, but in a place where he’ll never find it. Is he contemplating where I ever went wrong?


He has let his head fall down almost between his legs and I can hear him sigh. He is getting just as tired of this game as I am. While he has his head down like this I notice his hair is getting thin on the top of his head and I realize I don’t exactly know how old he is. He sighs again, puts his gun back in his belt and looks at me. I almost mistake his tired look for a look of sympathy and for one whole second I feel the need to get up and crawl into his arms. But then my thoughts get back on track and I can see in his face I now have that vacant look in my eyes again. “Let’s just get this over with, cookie” he says, as he gets up and takes a step in my direction. I refuse to look up at him as it is a very powerful gesture in the power-scale between us. Not that the scale would ever tip my way, but hey, at least it won’t tip further to his side. I see his feet coming closer towards me and try to keep my breathing even. My minds is prepared for what is about to happen and couldn’t care less, but somehow my body always braces itself and so I start breathing more heavily. He bends over and I can smell my guess about his suit was right. He grabs my arm and pulls me up. I try as hard as I can to control my breath but perhaps it is a lost cause. He pulls me against his body and I can feel his hard-on. No doubt about what he’ll do to me this time. “You know I care about you don’t you cookie?” He whispers in my ear.

He throws me on the bed and starts puling at my clothes. I keep reminding myself that it is all worth it. Soon this will all be over and I will never have to lie down and give myself to some desperate guy again. At least Clarence doesn’t go through the trouble of undressing himself, he just unzips and whips it out. I close my eyes and try to picture what I am doing this for. Sometimes it’s hard to hold on t that thought, but Clarence is a fast and non-demanding ‘customer’ . I hear his breathing going faster and soon my head starts bumping against the headboard. Now I am fighting my tears just because it’s hurting my head and for no other reason than that. He speeds up, my head bangs against the headboard harder and faster and suddenly he sighs high and loud, he drops on top of me and I thank god it’s over. After a few seconds he gets up, walks to the bathroom and slams the door.

I pull my panties back up and sit up on the bed. The faded sheets are now all messy from the friction but I couldn’t care less. Clarence turns on the faucet in the bathroom. “Thanks cookie, I feel better now, don’t you? Glad we could work this out!” he yells over the sounds of the running water. After a few minutes he comes walking out of the bathroom. He stops half way through the room and turns towards me. I try to look relaxed on the bed and pretend that the past ten minutes never happened. I hate that he has this power over me. “Look cookie, I like what we have going here, but I have business to run.” His voice almost sounds warm, apologetic. “If you’re money is not correct next week I will have to take stronger measures.” And with that he turns on his heels and stomps out of the room. As soon as I hear the door slam shut I turn onto my side and curl up into a little ball.

After a while I get up and walk to the bathroom. I don’t bother looking at my face in the mirror. I have grown to know the circles under my eyes and the dead look very well. I don’t really recognize the face I see in the mirror anymore. I used to have little freckles, a constant smile and a tingle in my eyes. My eyes used to be a bright and bubbly blue and my mom always said she couldn’t help but smile when she saw my face. She should see it now. I look at least ten years older. My freckles seem to be in hiding, I have dark circles and my eyes are a flat grayish color. My hair used to be a warm and shiny red, it had volume and danced around my face. Now it’s closer to a brown and just falls down sleek. I usually straighten it when I work so it at least looks like I put some effort in it. I take off my clothes and step into the shower. The warm water always seems to have a calming effect on me. Slowly my muscles start to relax and my mind becomes clearer. I try to straighten my thoughts and mentally perform my plan.

Before I know it the water turns colder and colder and I have to get out. I know it’s time to start taking action. I dry myself off, blow my hair dry quickly and get dressed. I am almost getting excited now. Or it might be just anxious. I know so much can go wrong but I have to do this. It is time, I have waited long enough, have endured long enough. I pick up the phone and dial the number I know so well. A familiar voice answers: “Hello?” . “Debs, it’s me. I am ready, let’s get this show on the road!” “I am so happy to hear that, everything is ready for you, give me an hour to get things rolling, I’ll call you when it’s time.” “Thanks Deb!”, I answer and hang up.

The worst hour of my life has just started. There is no turning back for me now. I will have to see this through to the end and it is going to be hard. I start pacing up and down the room. My mind is spinning. Mostly with anxiety and fear. What if he knows? What if he finds out? What if he’s not going to be there? What if he shows up too late? All kinds of thoughts keep bouncing through my head like tennis balls shot from a machine too fast and then hitting the edges and increasing in speed instead of slowing down. I get to a point where I think my head is going to burst. And then the phone rings. With a very silent voice I pick up: “Hello?”, I sound like I am about to cry. It’s Debs. “Sweety, everyone is in position, Michael will be at your door within a few minutes.” And sure enough someone knocks at the door. “Debs, I think he’s here.” I say with a small voice.

Deep inside I am afraid it’s going to be Clarence, who has figured out what I am about to do and has come to take me and hide me in some dark place for good. I drop the receiver and with hesitation I walk towards the door. I can see my arm going up to pull the handle but am not aware of actually doing this. I open the door and there’s Michael. He looks rough and mean and pushes me into the room. As soon as he closes the door he wraps his arms around me and holds me in a close embrace. I wish he had never done this. The tears start flowing and I start heaving in his arms. For a whole minute he does not let me go. Then he slowly releases me and places his hands on my shoulders. I try to look up at him through my tears. “Everything will be alright soon, I promise.” His voice is warm and doesn’t match his rugged look. But he’s supposed to look this way, it helps our little scene.

Then, without warning he slaps me right across the face. I am used to getting beaten but his one slap causes more damage than ten of Clarence’s all together. I fall to the floor and bump my knee. It starts bleeding. I can also feel blood running down my face. “That should do it.” Michael says dryly. I get up and make my way to the bed. He starts tearing my clothes and messing up the bedding even more. Now it’s time for me to act so I start screaming as loud as I can. I scream in absolute horror. Michael hovers over me in an aggressive stance. I almost start believing our little act myself.

And then Clarence storms in. He sees me on the bed and a look of horror comes over his face. He turns towards Michael and prepares to attack him. Suddenly from behind him, through the open door three other men storm in, shortly followed by Debbie.
She drags me out of the room so fast that I cannot see what the men are doing to Clarence. I can hear him moan under some hard punches though. For a brief second I feel sorry for him, but Debbie starts pulling on my arm and takes me to a tanned minivan. Behind the wheel is a girl I have never seen before. Debbie introduces me and with a warm smile she sticks out her hand and says: “Hi, my name is Rhonda.” I know there will be plenty of time to get to know Rhonda during our ten hour drive to the border of Mexico. Debbie hands me a small black bag. “This has your money, a plane ticket to Europe from Mexico City and a fake ID. From now on, you will be known as Cassandra Young.” I look at Debs and tears run down my face again. I am at a loss for words and can’t manage anything more than: “Thank you so much Debs, how can I ever repay you?” She smiles and says: “By never contacting me to let me know where you are. My guys will seriously beat up Clarence, but he will be looking for you soon enough. The only way for all of us to stay safe is if you don’t contact me.” More tears start running down my face now, as I start to realize that with gaining my freedom, I lost my best friend and saving angel.

I get in next to Rhonda and she takes off. “I know what you’re feeling hun.” She says, “But trust me, it’s a small price to pay for freedom.” And I know she is right.