Thanks SR for all the love and support. You always set me straight.
Disclaimer: SM is the queen and I'm the joker
I groaned as the sound of a ringing phone brought me out of much needed REM sleep. Deep sleep wasn't common for me and when it happened, I treasured every moment of it. After weeks of not having my own phone, I didn't recognize the nearness of the sound. I had gotten a cell phone that didn't require a plan so I wouldn't have to worry about the phone company announcing my location. If it weren't for my need to find a job, I wouldn't even worry about a phone but I needed income. My savings was withering and it gnawed on me to know that the money I had stashed away was wearing thin.
The phone stopped ringing just as I climbed off the mattress and I padded into the living room. It beeped once, indicating that I had a message. The only ones who had my phone number were places where I had filled out applications-nothing fancy: A diner down the street and a couple of grocery stores. Everything had to be within walking distance so I didn't have many options. A car certainly wasn't in my budget, even a clunker with engine problems.
Letting out a yawn, I checked my voicemail and listened to a message from the Office Manager at Crazy Jim's leave his return number. They were interested in an interview. The second message was from the diner. I wasn't sure how I was going to get away with working and not pinpointing my location but I didn't have the resources or the guts for fake identification. My Dad was a police chief for God's sake and no matter how ridiculous it sounded, breaking the law made me feel like I was twisting a knife in his chest. He would already be angry that I didn't come to Forks and trust in his protection—if he ever found out.
It had been a month since I'd left Oklahoma. I was sure that there were missing persons reports and I'd wanted to call my Dad several times to let him know I was fine. Each time I picked up the phone, I'd fold it closed. What if the bastard was somehow listening? I wasn't stupid. I knew these cheap pre-paid cell phones weren't traceable but I couldn't bear the thought of him listening to the conversation I'd have with my father. There had been several times he'd threatened my family.
"If you even think about trying to leave, I'll put a bullet in your daddy's brain before you can blink… I'll make sure your pompous mommy understands how wives are supposed to act before I slide a knife into her windpipe. Don't think I won't, Bella. Don't think I fucking wont."
What if he followed through on those threats? The thought had made me submissive to him and it tore me down, month after month until any internal strength I'd had, was shattered. I couldn't protect them anymore; I couldn't make sure they were safe by remaining in Oklahoma so the next best thing was to excavate me from their lives.
The job situation was surely a conundrum. Would I be able to convince an employer to break the law so that I could remain under the radar? Probably, not.
After a quick shower, I dried my hair and dressed in my best outfit which was black slacks and a dark blue blouse. I ate a granola bar and downed a glass of milk and headed out the door. My apartment had grown into a safety net for me and each time I crossed the threshold, my nerves shot into my throat. Looking in corners, staring at closed doors, and giving tall bushes a good glare was how I made it in the outside world.
Chicago was amazing and I felt myself get lost on the streets of downtown. People shuffled past me, talking on cell phones and texting on their Blackberries. They didn't give me a second glance. It made me feel safe to be amongst the pedestrians of the business world, going with the flow of traffic even though I had no where to be. Lost in the shuffle.
I was a half mile away from my house when I spotted a sign that pointed toward some outdoor steps along the side of a building: Blossom'sBookshelf. My mouth watered at the idea of holding a paperback in my hand once again. In Oklahoma, I wasn't allowed to read unless it was pre-approved which meant that all romances, fiction, and science fiction were prohibited in our home. Biographies and non-fiction weren't really my thing but I drank them in when I could.
Fighting my urge to run down those steps and never resurface, I kept walking until I reached Crazy Jim's food mart. People hustled out with bags around their wrists and unlocked their cars with the push of a button on their key chains. It was a small store but I still didn't think I had a chance of explaining my situation to them and coming out of it with a job. Asking a business to break the law on my behalf wasn't a fine point—perhaps I should have included that on my resume. I wasn't sure why I had even bothered to apply—I'd never be able to work at a place like that without the fear of him finding me.
The bastard was still running my life. He had me by the throat and was slowly squeezing the life out of me.
I made my way down the sidewalk of downtown, bumping shoulders with strangers and hearing bits of their conversations. My eyes searched the small storefronts for Help Wanted signs. If I were to find a small shop where the owner was at the premises, I might have had a chance to convince them. Then, I'd be taking a chance that they'd turn me in. I'd have to evasive about my situation.
My feet ached and my stomach growled by the time I turned back toward my apartment. When I reached Blossom'sBookshelf, I didn't have the heart to ignore it. I needed an escape, if only for an hour.
The concrete steps were steep and a bell rang out announcing my arrival when I walked through the heavy door. There were shelves of books, some old and some new. The shop was bigger than I thought it would be, given it was located in the basement. It was clean and tidy but books were crammed in tight to their temporary homes on the shelves. I took a deep inhale and closed my eyes.
"Can I help you?"
The soft feminine voice made me jump and my eyes shot open. A middle aged woman with dark hair and the hint of a smile on her face looked at me questioningly.
"I'm just looking," I told her, directing my eyes to the floor. "Thank you, though."
Out of my peripheral, I could see her shift on her feet but I kept my eyes glued to the floor. She didn't make me nervous but I hadn't earned her eye contact, yet.
"Okay, then," she said, softly. "Let me know if you need help finding something."
I smiled and nodded at the floor, watching my feet as they carried me toward the rear of the shop. As if they were a magnet, I found myself in the romance section. I ran a fingertip over the smooth spines, and suddenly, it all made sense to me. This was why I had left four weeks ago. I could buy one of these, if I wanted to. I could read it and get lost in the adventure of too-perfect men and big-busted women. Nothing was stopping me. If I wanted, I could wander over to Crazy Jim's and buy a gallon of ice cream for dinner. I could cut off all my jeans and only wear shorts. I could leave dirty dishes in the sink for days. I could sing in the shower. I could spill something on the floor and clean it up with a smile on my face. This was what freedom felt like.
"Have you read the latest Nora Roberts?" a voice said from behind me.
I jumped out of my skin and felt my hand cover my stomach. I found myself looking into her eyes, blue and confused at my reaction to her question.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I thought you knew I was behind you."
"Oh, it's okay," I offered. "My mind goes blank when I'm in the presence of literature."
She pulled out a book that my fingertip had just recently grazed: TheScotsmanandTheVirgin.My face flushed and I cleared my throat as I sensed her smile.
"My mind goes blank when I'm reading this stuff, too," she countered. "Are you a romance junkie?"
"I'm an any-kind-of-fiction junkie," I answered.
"Same here," she said with a laugh. "My husband thinks I'm out of my mind to keep my nose stuffed into these kinds of books,"—she held up TheScotsmanandTheVirgin and wiggled it in there air—"but he doesn't complain when the lights go out, if you know what I mean. Sometimes, these things are like instruction manuals."
My laugh was fake and shaky. I didn't have the experience to back up an agreement.
"I'm Esme," she said, offering her hand. I met her eyes and took it, shaking it as she gave my appearance a once over.
"Bella," I replied. "I'm glad I found this place. It's…amazing."
She looked around as if she were seeing it for the first time. As she focused on her surroundings, I looked at her face. There was sadness to her expression, even though a small smile graced her lips. Worry lines had taken up permanent residence between her brows and crow's feet highlighted the edges of her eyes. She was beautiful and I thought about how nice it would be to tell her everything. Esme seemed like the type who'd know just what to say; she'd whisper encouraging words in my ear as I let it all go. Of course, appearances were deceiving.
"Yeah, it is pretty amazing that we've come this far."
I felt like I was invading a private moment as her gaze washed over the bookshelves and past the check out counter, so I looked away.
"I'll be in the back if you need me," she finally said, and then smiled at me.
I returned her smile and proceeded to look around. Within ten minutes, I had my arms full of a variety of books—all of them fiction. When I delivered them to the counter, they toppled over like an avalanche.
"Wow!" Esme exclaimed. "You really found some good ones, huh?"
"I hope so," I told her. "Books stores are like a drug addiction for me. I'll need to find a job just to keep up with my literature habit."
It was a lame joke but she laughed politely.
She started scanning my books, her eyes glancing over at me occasionally. It made me nervous. I wondered how I looked to her, all scrawny and pale and shaking like a leaf.
"How long have you been in Chicago?" she asked, punching something into the cash register.
My mouth fell open a little as I wondered how she knew I was new to the area.
"You just don't have that born-and-raised-in-the-city look about you," she offered, answering my unspoken question.
I sighed. "I've been here about a month," I replied.
She was silent for a minute before speaking again. "And you're looking for work in the city?"
"I'm trying to, anyway," I said.
After clearing her throat she announced the total. I gave her cash and she punched it into the cash register.
"Would you like to work here?"
My eyes widened and my mouth fell open a little as she deposited my change in my hand. It would physically hurt to turn down her offer.
"I…I …" I stuttered. Heat rushed to my cheeks and my ears burned as she eyed me with curiously narrowed eyes.
"It's okay, Bella, if you don't want to work here. I just thought…"
"No! I'd love it! Are you kidding? It would be perfect for me."
She cocked her head in question and I licked my lips nervously. My mouth had gone desert dry and my throat ached as I swallowed. I looked around the store nervously, even though I knew there was no one else around.
"I…I've gotten into some trouble and…and if I…"
She cut me off, laying her hand on top of mine. "I know a troubled soul when I see one, Bella. If you need this job, we'll work around it."
My dry throat tightened and my chest ached at her kind words. I wanted to hug her and feel her arms around me, cry into her shoulder, ease myself into her embrace. It was crazy since I'd just met the woman. I'd also never been one to give affection, even to my own family.
"You could get into trouble if you hired me," I told her.
She quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Is it the law that is looking for you?"
That was a tough question since I wasn't sure if the law was looking for me. If they were, it wasn't in the sense that she inquired about so I shook my head.
"There's someone else you're hiding from?"
The skin on my face tightened and I let out a shaky breath as I replied, "Yes."
"Do you want to work here?"
"More than anything." It was the truth.
"When can you start?" she asked.
"Now," I answered, curtly.
She laughed. "How about tomorrow morning at eight."
I smiled at her and grabbed my bag of books off the counter. "Should I fill out an application?"
"Nah," she said, waving a hand at me. "We'll do a verbal application tomorrow when I'm training you."
"If you decide that I'm not qualified, you can tell me and I won't be offended."
"Well, you can obviously read so if you can push buttons on the cash register machine, I think you're qualified."
When I reached the front steps of my apartment building, I was smiling so hard that I forgot who I was and what I was running from. As I walked into the front door, I ran into a large rock that had been standing on the other side. With a bounce, I stumbled back and a hand grasped my arm to keep me from falling.
I panicked. The feel of firm, strong fingers wrapped around my bicep brought pain to my mind. I brought my other arm up to shield my face and my knees bent in an attempt to curl my body up in a tight little ball. The grasp on my elbow tightened as I tried to go down and I whimpered.
"What the…what's wrong with you?" a male voice grumbled. "I'm just trying to keep you from falling."
The voice was familiar but it didn't belong to the monster that chased me in my dreams and beat me in reality. I peeked up, between my fingers and found narrowed, confused eyes staring at me. With hesitant movement, I straightened up and he slowly released his grip on my arm. My books had fallen to the floor and TheScotsmanandTheVirgin had fallen out of the bag. Esme must have slipped that in when I wasn't looking. I was secretly glad—it was bound to be a good one to get lost in.
"The Scotsman and The…" he trailed off as he read the title, and his eyebrows twitched upward on his forehead. I took that moment to study his features which looked just about tense as his grip. His hair was reddish and messy, as if he had other things to concern himself with. A couple days worth of scruff grew on his straight jaw and his nose looked crooked, like mine. Must have broken it, I thought.
"Sorry, I grabbed you like that," he said, looking down at my arm.
I followed his gaze and realized that I was cradling my elbow in my opposite hand, like a mother would a baby. In that moment, there were many things I should have said like, "It's okay" or "Sorry for running into you" but none of them would come out of my mouth. My gut reaction was to get on my knees and clean up my mess which was what I did. My abdomen tensed instinctively, waiting for the brisk impact of the kick that may come.
My hands grabbed at the bag, shaking and not moving right, with him watching me. My fingers bent wrong and my hands pushed instead of pulled. When I had gotten myself together, I stood up and brushed my hair out of my face. I needed to get it cut. I hated it—always getting in my way. I decided right there that I'd do it tomorrow after work.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
My first mistake was letting my eyes meet his, seeing the obvious perplexity as they looked over my face. He was handsome. Too handsome, I told myself. Then I glanced at his broad shoulders then his firm chest that had almost concussed me. He was tall. In those gray work overalls, he looked like one of those serial killers on television that always gave me nightmares when I was a teenager. Michael…what was his name? All he needed was one of those white creepy masks and I would have peed my pants. When I watched his hand move from his side to the side of his face, I tried not to flinch but my instincts to protect myself took over. His hands were big, his fingers long. The power he could have over me with just the flick of his wrist sent a shudder down my spine. I swallowed hard.
"I'm fine," I told him and moved past him, careful not to disturb him as I made my way around him. He had a presence about him; like he owned the part of earth wherever he stood and you dared not touch it. Territorial.
He grumbled something and walked out the front door. My lungs released a breath and I practically ran to my front door. I shut it behind me and locked it before running to my corner. My back slid down the wall and I stared at the door, waiting for the man to come back. When he realized how weak I was, how easy I would be to overpower, he'd tear my door down and take what he could.
"Shit," I said, running my fingers through my hair. "I'm so damn crazy."
I knew I was irrational, stupid and so freaking tired of being afraid. All he had wanted to do was help me but all I could see was my fear. How did women who lived for years in fear, make it? I had been in my own personal hell for nine months and I was a paranoid weirdo. It wasn't like I could avoid men for the rest of my life. Deep down, I knew that a majority of men were good and kind and decent but all I could see them for was their strength. The Testosterone that made them want to own other people. There was a bit of that in every man, whether they knew it or not.
That night, instead of going to bed, I sat in my corner. For some reason, I felt safe as if I was secured in my own little bubble. If someone came busting through my door, I'd have first look at them. I wouldn't be surprised.
The next morning, I stretched away the aches and pains of cramped muscles as I showered. I dressed in khaki slacks and a nice blouse, hoping that the dress code was casual. Esme's clothes seemed casual enough so I followed her lead. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, determined to get it cut off at the Cut 'NGo on my way home that day.
I arrived at Blossom'sBookshelf fifteen minutes early. The door was still locked and the lights were off, so I waited on a bench nearby for Esme to arrive. Five minutes later, she was there, toting her purse and two coffees.
"You a coffee drinker, Bella?" she asked.
I wasn't an avid coffee fan but I nodded because she had gone through all the trouble to get me one. She smiled and thrust a cup toward me. I took it and took an enthusiastic sip. The hot liquid burnt my tongue but I held in the whimper as my taste buds flared up with pain.
"Ugh!" she groaned, "What a morning! Carlisle had to be up for a doctor's appointment and he's the biggest grouch in the mornings. You'd think I was pulling out his fingernails when I turned the bedroom light on."
"Is Carlisle your husband?" I asked.
"Yes, but he's sort of like a child, sometimes," she laughed. "Men are like trees; they take forever to grow up."
As she showed me around the shop, she told me about Carlisle and how they met in college. They were in the same Physiology class at The University of Chicago. He became a Pediatrician and Esme dabbled in different things, finally settling on being an Accountant. It was only five years ago they had purchased the little shop and turned it into a bookstore. They had wanted a coffee shop to be built inside but it was too small.
"It worked out nicely, though," she added. "A coffee shop has more health codes to work through where just a book shop is pretty easy to maintain. We don't do a ton of business but we do enough to get by."
As if on cue, an elderly woman placed a few books on the counter in front of us.
"Good morning, Mrs. Flecker! How are you today?" Esme asked.
The glasses that Mrs. Flecker had on her face had coke bottle lenses and tape around the nose piece. She smiled and showed off her remaining four teeth. Her white frizzy hair was pulled up into a bun and her jowls wobbled as she spoke.
"Oh, Esme, I'm doing all right," she said. "If they keep raising our property taxes, I'm not going to be able to afford all these books. I'm on a fixed income!"
Esme shot her a tight grin. "What are we going to do with all these politicians?"
We got another good look at her four teeth. "I'm going to start a petition! Would you sign it, Esme? No more property taxes?"
"You know I would, Mrs. Flecker! I'd sign all your petitions!" Esme winked at me and I grinned. "This is Bella, she's our new employee. Would you mind if she rang up your purchases today."
The elderly lady pursed her lips and gave it serious consideration. "Has she signed the confidentiality agreement?"
I frowned but Esme rolled with it. "Oh, absolutely!"
"I can't have my neighbors knowing that I like smutty romance novels. Edna McQueen would just love it if that got out. She'd start a rumor that,"—she leaned toward us and stage whispered, "I'm a trollop."
My eyebrows rose and I wanted to laugh. I bit the inside of my cheek and focused on the pain so that my face would remain sober.
"Our lips are sealed," Esme whispered.
Mrs. Flecker gave me another hard look but nodded once in allowance. Esme showed me how to ring up the books using the scanner and then how to total it out. It was fairly simple but oddly fun.
The rest of the day went smoothly and Esme told me that I did a wonderful job as I corded my purse strap over my head and onto my opposite shoulder.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Bella," she said, waving from behind the counter.
"Absolutely!" I said with a smile.
Just as I had promised myself, I stopped at the Cut 'N Go on the way home. I lost myself in a book as I waited for an available stylist. When my name was called, I hopped up and followed a plump, dark haired girl with flawless skin back to a chair.
"I'm Betty," she said, her gum popping on her molars. "What are you looking to do today?"
I looked at my reflection as I chewed on her question. The bags under my dull brown eyes were no surprise, and neither was my pale skin. My body was so small; I looked like a child sitting in that large barber seat. My hair swallowed me, hovering over my shoulders and along my back, weighing me down.
"I want to cut it off," I told her.
She stopped popping her gum and her eyes bugged out of her head as she looked at me. Her finger raked through the thick layers of brown hair and the tugging on my scalp only confirmed my decision. My hair had been used as a weapon against me, a makeshift mode of tying me down. I hated it.
"You sure? I mean, it must have taken years for this to grow. You really want to—"
"Please," I begged with a cracked voice, "Up to my shoulders is fine."
She sighed and grabbed her spray bottle off the counter. "I might need to wet it down over at the sink. Do you want layers or anything?"
Layers? Did I want layers? Did I want layers? I smiled because it was my choice to make.
"Yeah, I think layers would be nice," I told her.
She looked at me funny then shrugged. "Okay, let's do it."
A/N: Love you all. Peace out.