Word of warning: this is a little more daring than anything I've ever written before. I'd give you the "Don't like, don't read" if I thought that actually had any semblance of meaning around here anymore. The world of TM fanfiction isn't the safe place it used to be.
I cherish reviews, but I laugh at flames… :)
Kelsey rolled over when she heard the shower being turned on, and closed her eyes. She relaxed, enjoying the feel of the soft comforter and even softer pillows. It was a far cry from what she was used to.
He picked a different hotel every time, but they were always nice – spacious rooms with elaborate mini-bars and bathrooms that seemed to be made for royalty. He always booked the room for the night but immediately after she'd satisfied him, he would get up, shower and leave, leaving her to enjoy it.
She remembered her very first time with him, not quite two years ago. He was a good-looking man; a perfect face with beautiful, dark eyes that could make every woman go weak in the knees – even women like her. Still, she'd been anxious and uneasy, not trusting him for a second. He seemed dangerous; he was gruff and awkward and seemed like someone who could go off at any second without warning.
She'd learned early on he wasn't a sadist. Those were the worst ones; the quiet ones who seemed friendly enough outside of the bedroom and only revealed their true colors between four walls. The ones who somehow got her to do unspeakable things, the ones who made her relive her worst nightmares over and over again.
He'd called her on it once while she was undressing.
"What's that?" he asked quietly, fingering a cigarette burn on her shoulder.
She subtly twisted away, avoiding his gaze. "It's nothing, okay?"
He didn't say anything, and she didn't have to look at him to realize he knew exactly what it was. She continued taking her clothes off in silence until spoke after a moment.
"You should be more careful. There are a lot of really sick people out there."
"I can take care of myself," she bit back.
He stood still for another moment, then scratched the side of his face and nodded before pulling his t-shirt over his head. He never said anything about it again.
A few months and several of their encounters went by, and although her faith that he was a decent guy who would never hurt her grew each time, her confusion grew at equal lengths.
In her line of work, the "good guys" she came across were mostly all guys who were sweet albeit a little whiney, who hadn't been too blessed when it came to looks and who generally felt too insecure to look for sex the normal way. These were the ones who liked to be pampered and fussed over, who wanted to cuddle afterwards and who she often had to warn against falling in love with her.
Tony wasn't like that either (she wasn't even sure if that was his real name; she pretended not to notice how he would check in under a different name almost every time). The sex with him wasn't rough, wasn't dominant; but it certainly wasn't affectionate either. Kissing didn't seem to interest him. He shoved her hand away whenever it sensually ran across his skin, and he never, ever looked her in the eye during the act.
"D'you have a girlfriend?" she once asked him while he was getting dressed. She really couldn't picture him as one of those guys who claimed to love the women in their lives but complained that they didn't know how to please them. She asked because she was running out of options.
He raised his eyebrows at her, then finished buttoning up his shirt and said simply, "No."
He'd been seeing her a good six months when the thought hit her quite suddenly that maybe he was a cop. Maybe he was just an asshole cop on a job who would bust her the first opportunity he got.
The next time they got together, she rose from the bed as soon as she heard the shower running, pulled on her underwear and frantically started searching through his things. All she could find in his jacket were a few fake IDs stashed away in an inside pocket, so she hurriedly moved on to his jeans. She found his wallet, which held a surprising amount of cash. For a second she was tempted (he'd already paid her, after all) but then she remembered she didn't do that with her regulars. She'd learned everything the hard way, including this: if you stole you didn't get called back if you were lucky, and you ended up the ER with a black eye, a broken arm and a few cracked ribs if you weren't.
The wallet further contained nothing out of the ordinary, and she let out a sigh of relief and was about to scold herself for being so paranoid when something else caught her attention. Hidden in a side compartment, she pulled out a folded piece of paper that was obviously very worn. She opened it and was surprised to be looking at a picture.
Tony smiled back at her, looking happy and carefree in a way she'd never known him, his arm around an exceptionally pretty woman with dark curls and warm, expressive eyes.
She was so intrigued that she didn't hear the shower being turned off, didn't hear the bathroom door being pushed open.
"What the hell is going on here?"
She started violently and turned around, even though is voice and low and quiet. "Goddammit!" she blasted, "You scared the shit out of me."
His eyes narrowed, and it dawned on her he had caught her in a very compromising position. Get yourself out of this now, she ordered, you're good at that shit.
"I thought you said you didn't have a girlfriend," she stated flippantly, trying her hand at playfulness and flashing the photograph in front of his face, "She's pretty, I don't get why you'd want to-"
He snatched the picture from her fingers and she immediately sobered when she saw a dangerous glint in his dark eyes.
"Get out," he growled.
She stared at him in disbelief and laughed hesitantly. "Hey look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
He took a step forward and she flinched, suddenly afraid he might hit her. "I said get out!"
"I thought you were a cop, okay?" she blurted out, desperately trying to calm him down. "That's why I was going through your stuff. I'm sorry, I won't-"
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!"
She froze, unable to move, and without warning he lunged for her, grabbing her elbow and dragging her across the room. With his free hand he managed to grapple for the remainder of her clothes and before she knew it he had opened the door and shoved her out into the hall, throwing her clothes after her. The door slammed shut and she stood there shaking for a few seconds before she could force herself to get dressed.
She'd thought that was it for the fancy hotel rooms and the client she'd actually had respect for, despite hardly knowing him. She'd miss the chance to escape, she knew. To pretend, even for a little while, that she could stay in those soft, clean beds listening to him take a shower.
He called her two weeks later.
"Kelsey…"
He so very rarely used her name, and this caught her attention even if she was still wary.
"What?" she snapped.
He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about…" He didn't finish his sentence and she felt no desire to do it for him. She heard him hesitate. "And I understand if you never want to see me again but uh… I feel like I owe you an explanation. I mean… if you want it."
She told herself not to bite, that he'd proved to be less trustworthy than she thought. But before she knew it she'd given in and they were making plans to meet at a hotel just a few days later.
They entered the room together and he went straight to the mini-bar to pour her a drink, like he always did. He never drank, and she'd pouted once that it was no fun drinking alone. When she'd asked him why, he'd answered, "Because I'm afraid if I did I'd never be able to stop."
That day they sat in silence while she nursed her drink. He seemed uncomfortable and while part of her felt for him, she refused to make it easier on him in any way. Silence with alcohol never seemed quite so awkward anyway.
When his finally spoke up his voice was calm, lacking its usual gruffness. "The woman the picture…" She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed, staring ahead. "She was my wife. She… she was killed a couple years ago."
Kelsey took a sip, not saying anything. She knew about loss; ever since her father died when she was nine and her mother replaced him with the man that had eventually driven her away at sixteen because he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Still, knowing about it didn't make to easier to know how to respond to it.
She settled for saying quietly, "I'm sorry."
He nodded, like he'd heard those words many a time. He continued after a moment, his voice filled with a kind of pain she knew could only come from deep inside him. "I never was any good at controlling myself where she was involved. There was no right or wrong… there was just her." He sighed. "And I guess that hasn't changed, even if… even though she's gone now."
He slowly got up and stood by the window, his hands in his pockets and his back to her. "That picture you found…" She felt herself nodding even though she knew he couldn't see her. "It's the only one I have left of her."
She felt surprised at this. "How come?"
He shrugged and she watched him shake his head. "Long story," he murmured. "Anyway uh…" He cleared his throat and turned around to look at her. "I'm sorry for what I did. You're a good girl and I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."
She looked at him for a moment, then set her glass on the table. She stood up slowly and tugged her top over her head…
One rainy afternoon a few months later she sat there with him in yet another hotel room, sipping her drink as he stared into the fire. She eyed him, noting how his dark clothing only accentuated his handsome face and his short, nearly black hair. He sat leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his fingers interlocked in front of him. He was quieter than usual (and that – for a man who was never particularly talkative – was saying something), and she noticed he had a far away look in his eyes.
"Do you miss her?"
The words had tumbled from her mouth before she knew it, and she held her breath when he shot her a sharp look.
"I don't like talking about her," he said, his voice not unkind, but firm and closed off.
She nodded, understanding – she didn't talk about her father either. But then he looked at her and she swore she could sense him soften just a little.
"But yes…" He turned his head, staring into the flames. "I miss her."
She nodded. She'd figured as much.
Kelsey was shaken out of her reverie when she heard the bathroom door open, and Tony walked into the room wearing only his black boxers.
She understood a lot more about him than in the beginning; she understood his pain, his anger, his regret. She understood he had to mourn.
She didn't understand why he kept calling her. She didn't understand why he didn't try to start over… find someone else to spend his life with. She didn't understand why he didn't grab the shot at a second chance in life with both hands. He could have one if he wanted it. She was starting to think she never would.
She watched him get dressed in silence, surprising herself when she called out, "Hey…"
He looked up, grabbing his wallet and shoving it in the back pocket of his dark jeans as he waited for her to continue.
She struggled, not wanting to offend him, but finally blurted out, "How come you pay for sex when we both know you can get it anywhere? For free."
If he was surprised at her question he didn't show it. He gave her one of his rare half-smiles. "Money's not a problem."
She knew this. She'd sensed it early on, even without ever having asked him what he did for a living. It wasn't the way he dressed or the way he acted. In fact, sometimes she thought the money he spent on her was the most extravagant thing he did financially.
"Yeah but…" She shook her head in bewilderment.
He turned to face her, standing at the foot of the bed and crossing his arms over his chest. "This way there's no confusion that it can never be more," he answered simply.
"But…" She cringed, hating how hopelessly naïve she sounded. After thirteen years on the streets she really shouldn't be asking questions like these. "Don't you ever wanna fall in love again?"
He shook his head, reaching for his jacket and throwing it on. "I can't."
"Can't or won't?" she challenged, sitting up and covering herself with the sheet.
It didn't have the effect she's anticipated. He didn't even stop to think about his answer.
"Both," he answered. She noticed he didn't seem troubled by this. On the contrary, he looked like he'd made peace with it a long time ago.
He patted her foot through the softness of the sheets. "I'll call ya."
She nodded, watching him disappear down the hall and pull open the door, leaving Kelsey to enjoy the luxury of the hotel room until morning.