Broken (Breaking the Rules) (2 page)

Present

“Come on, Andi! I don’t have all day. Some of us have been ready for hours,” Pepper called to me from the living room. Of course she’d been ready for hours. She was wearing jeans and a sweater for crying out loud, and it probably took two minutes to readjust her bun.

“Perfection takes time,” I told Olive, who was sitting on my bed while I applied the last of my makeup. “You sure you don’t want to go with us, hon?” I asked, turning to look at her. Olive was our new friend. She was a gorgeous black girl with legs that went on for miles. Her hair was smooth as silk and her eyes were the palest orbs that contrasted vividly against her chocolate skin.

Olive moved in with us about a month ago. She somehow managed to escape an extremely abusive relationship but had nowhere to go. When I found her crying at the café one day, I took her under my wing, praying Pepper would be okay with it. Of course Pepper fell in love with the leggy chocolate goddess as well, and she’d been living with us ever since.

Olive got modeling gigs left and right because she was perfection personified. But her fears of her ex sometimes cripple her socially.
A lot of times.
Like tonight, she was adamantly shaking her head to my offer. She had a fear that she might run into Drake and he’d drag her away from us, never to be seen again. It always gave me the shivers to think about what he must have done to her to make her so afraid. And the fact that she refused to ever let us see her without being fully clothed made me wonder if he’d done something to her body. Just the thought made me sick to my stomach.

The modeling jobs she took were mostly for magazines. She absolutely refused to do any live modeling at shows even though that would have been the best way for her to get noticed by more well-known agents. Olive gave us money when she got paid on these jobs, but we never asked her for any. We just wanted our girl safe with us.

I didn’t make much money at the café so Pepper was our breadwinner. Well, if you call having a monthly trust fund “breadwinning” then she was definitely it. Her dad was a high-powered attorney there in the city and didn’t want his little girl to hurt for anything. We lived in a sweet little apartment and didn’t hurt for much either thanks to Pepper being “Daddy’s Little Girl.” Oh, and she played the part so well. The girl could be downright bitchy, but when—Daddy—was around, her voice was as sweet as sugar.

Thankfully, I was going to start my new job on Monday and would be able to help Pepper out more than just buying the groceries. Even though her dad took care of a lot for us, I still felt guilty about being a total freeloader. Today was my last day at the café and now we were going to celebrate. It took several months after college of applying all over the city to finally land a job at Compton Enterprises. The job I really wanted was to be an architect, but working as an assistant at an architectural firm was a good foot in the door. Everyone has to start somewhere.

“One day I’ll go with you guys. But it’s just too soon. Please have fun for me. I have a date with American Idol,” she smiled at me.

“Okay, fine. But I’m holding you to it. Now, how do I look?” I asked her, flipping my hair over my shoulder.

Ever since the day I found Brayden cheating on me, something in me snapped. Gone was the blond-haired innocent. Gone was my optimism. My outlook on life and love had been ruined the moment I saw that girl’s big tits bouncing as she rode my man. He had stolen it all away from me when he decided to sleep with some bimbo after almost four years of dating.

Now, I was this hard, jaded woman. Away had gone my conservative ways and I had welcomed my inner skank. I glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. My platinum-blond hair was flat-ironed perfectly straight halfway down my back. I had carefully made up my face, complete with smoky eyes and plump red lips. The dress I chose to wear was black, tight, and short. Just the way I liked it. The plunging neckline revealed my adequate cleavage. My red pumps put me up three inches higher than my five foot seven frame.

“You look beautiful as always, Andi,” Olive genuinely assured, making me smile at her.

I was in “Man-Killer Mode” as Pepper called it. I’d have them falling at my feet tonight. One of them would get lucky too. I was on the prowl, and even Pepper wouldn’t be able to tame me. This Friday night was about to get crazy.

“Thanks, babe. See you in the morning,” I waved to her as I grabbed my clutch and walked out my bedroom door. Pepper was curled up in the recliner reading a book. “Let’s go, bitch,” I told her as I shrugged into my coat.

“About time, bitch,” she shot at me, picking up hers from the back of the chair as she stood up.
Man-Killer Mode: Activated.

A DARK TWO WEEKS…

Today, I am absolutely sick to my stomach. Not eating hardly anything for several days straight has sent my body into a tailspin. My head throbs, I’m weak, my body hurts, and now I am throwing up. Pepper told me earlier that things were getting out of control, that she was going to drag me out of the bed if I didn’t get my act together soon. I just flipped her off and threw the covers over my head.

Thankfully, I was caught up on all of my classes before the “incident.” I was really just waiting to take my finals. I have worked my ass off for four years. Surely I can take the week off without catching flak from Pepper. Wishful thinking.

My heart still hurts so fucking bad. I keep playing reruns over and over again of “what-ifs”. Every scenario ends the same. Bray is a cheater. He even had the nerve to come to my dorm room, but luckily Pepper ran interference.

Hearing his voice successfully caused me to break down all over again. He was begging her. She was cussing him out. I was sobbing uncontrollably.

Will it ever get better? I’ll never be able to love or trust again. Brayden was it for me. Now I have nothing.

The cab ride only took ten minutes since the new bar we wanted to go to was just a few blocks away. On the way there, I thought about how my life had gone from spending every weekend with my fiancé to sleeping with a different guy each weekend instead. Since Bray had left me a broken mess with his infidelity, I woke up one morning needing a different way to live. The way I could cope was to sleep around with successful, hot men and drop them before either of us could get invested emotionally. It made for exciting weekends full of free dinners and lots of unattached sex.

In the last five months, I had morphed into this succubus—taking their energy and keeping it for my own. And I loved every minute of it. Unfortunately, there were always the guys who would seem genuinely hurt when the weekend was over. Thus—our little escapades would effectively be over too. Somehow I was a bitch and a whore even though the little shits knew from the get-go what to expect. Pepper said that I needed help. I thought I was doing just fine. My heart never hurt anymore, that’s for damn sure.

Once we had graduated and moved into Pepper’s apartment, she had gotten a job at the museum as an assistant production manager. Her degree was actually being put to some use. I was still whipping up lattes and running out deli sandwiches to a busy crowd. Finally, though, things were looking up, because I had successfully ended my last day at the café today and would embark on my future on Monday. My interview had gone great at Compton Enterprises. The owner of the company, Jordan Compton, was who I would be assisting. He’d told me that the ability to advance at the company was available if I were willing to work for it. I was eager to finally start my career after all these months since graduation.

When the cab stopped, I paid the driver and we got out. For a moment, we drank in the atmosphere of the new bar. Dempsey’s was glowing above the entrance in red—promising a new tantalizing adventure. I’d heard that it was an Irish pub-like bar that was modern and cool. They’d only been open a few weeks and had already hosted some great local bands. Tonight, a new local favorite, The Remains, were supposed to be playing.

When I walked to the entrance, the meaty-looking guy checked our IDs and grumbled, “Twenty-dollar cover each.”

“What the fuck?” Pepper exclaimed. “Twenty dollars just to let me in the door and then I still have to pay you to drink the damn alcohol?” She was glaring at him, pissed at the overpriced cover fee.

Just as I was about to tell Pepper to chill out, another man whispered into Meathead’s ear, causing him to frown. “Nevermind. You’ve been paid for,” he muttered gruffly, stepping aside so we could pass. I looked down at my very naked, very long legs.
Score one for Andi.
Smiling at Meathead, we entered the bar.

The smells instantly intoxicated me as we walked in. The mix of smoke, lager, and an oaky smell permeated my senses. Clearly the band hadn’t come on yet because all that could be heard was the dull roar of people talking. The bar was quite spacious, and it exuded richness. The tables and barstools all were dark mahogany. I looked around and noticed that the walls were lined in mahogany paneling from floor to ceiling. I almost thought this place could be a library at a really rich person’s house.