Scandal: The Reckless Series, Book #3 (The Reckless Crew) (5 page)

“
F
eeling okay
?” Kip asks from across the room.

“Actually, I am.”

Even though his father just worked me over checking out everything.

“Need anything before bed?”

I shrug and then shake my head from side to side.

“You’re a shit liar, Chloe.”

“How do you do that?”

“It’s pretty easy with you. Crackers and water?”

“Yes, please.”

I work my way down in the covers, feeling exhausted. The girls and I chatted for hours while the men yelled at the game. Charlie slept through most of it on her daddy’s chest. Our conversation lingered from light topics all the way to the heavy ones. Darby and Ava reassured me to just take it from day to day and not over analyze anything.

I’m scared to death on the inside. I’m falling from one crutch to the next and can feel it in my bones. I latched on to Zack and endured his wrath because he was my drug of choice. I know it was all-wrong, but couldn’t seem to break from the vicious cycle.

I’ve found the opposite in Kip, but it’s still the same moot point. He’s now slowly becoming my drug of choice, a much healthier one, but a drug all in the same. It’s wrong, so damn wrong, but my heart is gravitating to him. It’s his light touches, caring gestures, and constant kindness. I’m in a trance. A scary fucking trance.

“Here.” Kip sets down the water and crackers on the nightstand.

I grab his wrist before he can turn to leave. “Do you think I’m a…”

“A what?” He booms out the two words.

“Wrong for kissing you?”

“Did it feel good?”

I nod my head.

“Then why would it be wrong?”

“I’m married,” I whisper, dipping my head.

“Legally, yes. But Zack obliterated the temple of marriage the first time he regulated your food and laid a hand on you. That’s not a marriage.”

“I’m confused, Kip.”

He crawls over me only covering my body for a brief moment, before rolling to his side. He props his hand up on his head.

“Talk to me.”

“I like you. Jesus, I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours and mauled your face and your…” I point to his crotch.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “I’ll be honest. I’m confused as well. I’m not sure what it is. But, Chloe, I’ll promise you this. I’ll never hurt you and I know you’re in a tough spot right now. I just want to be here.”

“I want you to be here. I’m so thankful. It’s almost like I don’t deserve it.”

“I went into the bathroom when they showed up and stared at myself for a long time in the mirror. I know what we did was so fucking wrong, but then I’ve kept thinking about it all night and thought, fuck it.”

“Fuck it?” I ask, sinking down further into the bed.

“Yeah, fuck it. There’s no rulebook to life. Shit, how are we supposed to know what to do?”

“You’re right. Fuck it.”

“I also promise to make you feel beautiful again.” He scratches his head. “I already think you’re a knock-out that just needs a few more sandwiches.”

“No more Chinese for a while, Poop Patrol.”

He laughs hard. “See this is what we need. Forget about what’s right or wrong and just enjoy the moment. I have a really hard time doing that.”

His last few words trail off, but I hear them. It’s more than I expect from him, but it makes me so happy he gave it to me.

“The girls are going to pick me up tomorrow.”

“For?”

“Spa day.” I roll my eyes.

“Just make sure they bring you back.”

“Deal.” I roll to my side to face him.

He jumps up from the bed and rounds the bottom of it before he’s on my side. “Scoot.”

I follow his command, scooting to the center. The bed dips when he crawls in and then his chest is pressed to my back. His arm pulls me further into him and I melt.

“Is this okay?” His words vibrate on the sensitive part of my neck.

“Perfect, actually.”

“
I
’m not getting
a damn pixie cut.”

“You have the perfect face,” Darby counters.

“Then cut off your mop first.”

“Okay, not a pixie cut, but we need something drastic. I mean, she looks like a drab 80’s curtain.”

The hair stylist continues to play a neutral role in the conversation, not wanting to piss either side off.

“Okay, let’s do a shaggy bob.” I gesture to right above my shoulders. “And I’d like to go back closer to my natural color.”

The stylist parts my hair, examining my roots. “Okay, that’s doable, but I’m going to be taking off a good seven inches and will have to use bleach to lighten your hair.”

“Perfect,” I nod.

Darby smiles in victory even though she didn’t get her choice of a cut. Ava’s back in the torture zone getting a Brazilian done. For once, I’m not envious of her life. It only took me one time of suffering that pain to never do it again.

Darby spins round and round in the empty chair next to me, randomly giving her opinion to other customers. I swear she was never diagnosed with ADD. I feel bad because I nod off every once in awhile feeling so relaxed and still exhausted. I was relieved to wake up to little pain this morning, so I skipped my morning pain meds. It just seems my body is beyond exhausted at this point and just needs some good old-fashioned sleep.

“I’m going to kill you, Darby,” Ava hisses, rushing to our side.

Darby responds with a gut-rolling laugh. Her face flushes red with tears rolling down her face.

“What did I miss?” I spy over at the two out of the corner of my eye.

Ava huddles near my side and tries to whisper. “The bitch told me to get a Brazilian wax.”

“Yeah, so?” I shrug with confusion.

“I’ve never had one and I like my little landing strip.” She grits between her teeth.

“You’ve never had a Brazilian?” My voice comes out loud and shocked.

“No, have you?” she asks.

I nod.

“You both are goat fuckers. I swear.”

Darby tries getting out a few words, but can’t muster it between her laughter. It takes her several attempts. “I would’ve loved to have seen your face when she asked you to get on your hands and knees.”

“Well, it didn’t happen.” She pauses. “It was a he!”

And I can’t help but die of laughter right beside Darby.

Ava stomps her foot and points her finger. “This goes to our grave, assholes. Zane would kill the poor guy who just shredded my lady locker.”

Darby wipes the tears from her face. “Good thing you’re not a stripper because that would be at least a once a week appointment.”

I shudder with that thought because that shit isn’t even worth the good money.

“Do you think the guys got waxed when they stripped?” Ava asks. “Because if they did and Zane finds out about this, I’ll have some dirt on him.”

I’m whirled around in my chair to face both of them. I’m guessing the gal is tired of my trying to crane my head.

Darby shrugs. “Ask Kip.”

“Good idea,” Ava adds. “Give me your phone Chloe, mine died.”

“Did you two get into my pain meds?” I ask. “Because you’ve lost your damn marbles.”

“Give me your phone. Kip would know.”

“Kip’s a bartender.”

An awkward silence floats between the three of us. Darby and Ava share a few exchanged glances before looking at me.

“He used to be the bartender, but since Rhett’s accident and decision not to go back, Ross needed a new Don Juan to whirl his wiener on stage.”

I swallow down the…well I don’t know what I swallow down. It can’t be hurt or anger, maybe confusion with a hint of bitterness.

“Are you okay?” Ava asks.

“Oh yeah,” I nod. “I just can’t believe every guy in this town is or has been a damn wiener whirler at that club.”

I study their expressions and exhale when I see they’ve bought my response. The truth is, I don’t know how it makes me feel. I have no right to feel anything actually. He’s doing a good deed by taking care of me. My mind is so fucked up right now.

“Wait.” I hold my hand up. “Was he stripping when I had my bachelorette party there?”

“You mean your death sentence?” Darby asks.

Ava elbows her in the ribs. “Don’t be an asshole. No, he was the bartender. Kip hasn’t been stripping long. Just helping out Ross.”

“He seems to be quite the gracious Samaritan.” This time there’s no disguising the thick annoyance dripping from every single word.

Ava does a fantastic job of lightening the mood the rest of the afternoon, exploring all kinds of topics us girls need to catch up on. Just like in college we’re sporadic, discussing everything from new fashion trends to the size of our last poop. I’m sure we’ll have to go a town over if we ever want another spa day.

At the end of the long morning that blends into late afternoon, I’m left a with a long bob that floats just above my shoulders. I have thick bangs and a gorgeous caramel brown color with hints of auburn highlights. It’s the trendiest I’ve looked since before Zack and I can’t help but smile.

On the ride back to Kip’s I play with the loose curls framing my face and realize even though I’m at the lowest state of my life right now, I’m happy. It’s a weird happy laced with guilt, embarrassment, and hurt. The happiness lingers like a single fleck of gold in a cold stream of water. Barely there, but there. It’s the sign of a tiny promise of hope in a monumental sea of despair.

“Ladies.” Kip nods and opens my door before Ava has her engine off.

I study him before he sees me and watch his expression. I’m not sure why it even matters how he reacts, but I’m a fool and can’t help but stare.

“Chloe.” He ducks his head down in the back seat. “Wow.”

His brown eyes dilate and his toothy smile lights up the backseat. My insides quiver and fingers begin to tremble. This was a bad idea, such a bad idea. Tears well up in my eyes and my gut wrenches.

“Chloe,” he whispers.

Sweat beads up on my forehead and the vortex whirling around in my belly threatens to expel.

“Move.”

The pain shooting through my arm makes me dizzy when I hoist myself from the car and run for a trashcan outside the garage door. The lid is barely off before the storm inside me spills out. Once the liquid is gone the dry heaves begin.

I feel hands on my back and can hear my friends’ voices. Kip’s is a bit louder, demanding answers from them. My brain knows it’s not Zack, but my body goes straight to autopilot. It is Zack and he’s livid with me for doing something without his permission. My arm spasms, intensifying the pain and fear coursing through me.

The longer the situation goes, the more out of control everything feels. He still has power over me, controlling me, and I can’t even fight it miles away.

“Hey, baby. We’re home.”

I’m nervous as hell when I enter my home with Jenna. Her husband is Zack’s new big dog lawyer and they’re the closest to our age among all of our so-called friends. She invited me to the salon with her today and ended up convincing me to get a makeover.

My life is a tricky one. It’s a strategic poker hand I always have to play carefully. I can never show fear and have to make the best decisions on my feet to represent Zack in the best light.

“Back on the patio.” His words are a bit slurred and I cringe knowing when he drinks it’s the worst.

“Our guys are going to be so excited.” Jenna picks up the pace. “Sam loves it when I do this; says it’s like having a new woman.

If she’s playing a poker hand then she’s a damn card shark showing no fear or reservations. Me, on the other hand, I should have folded instead of going all in. My nervous fingers strum my curls. It was only a few inches and a couple highlights, nothing drastic at all.

Jenna leaps into Sam’s lap spilling some of his drink onto the white patio chair. I flinch when the dark brown liquid hits the white material and then notice Zack’s jaw flex and fists ball up.

Jenna and Sam are too wrapped in dirty talk and light kissing to notice any of it. Zack squints his eyes at me and I know it’s going to be bad, very bad. I begin to tremble, but he sends me a slight nod and I know better.

“Zack, what do you think of Chloe’s hair?” Jenna asks with a beaming smile.

He rises from his chair and I know he’s too smart to hurt me while they’re here. Actually, I pray they never leave tonight. He closes the space between us, until his hand snakes up the back of my neck until his hand is fisting my hair. He pulls on it so hard, I can hear the hair rip, but like I said he’s a smart man and talks at the same time.

“Pretty lady.” He leans down, so only I can hear. “You look like a fucking white trash whore.”

He stands back up and kisses the tip of my nose.

“Did you guys have fun golfing?” I ask, controlling the fear threatening to over take my tone.

It’s small talk that lasts like this for the next two hours. Zack is so toasted by the time our company leaves I’m hopeful he’ll pass out. But no such luck. As I finish washing my face and flipping off the master bathroom lights, I’m ripped down by the hair.

My cheek slams into the cold tile floor making me see stars. Everything goes black, but the overwhelming sensation of my hair being pulled on and the carpet below me burning my skin wakens me. I pray to pass out again.

“What in the fuck made you think I wanted my wife to look like a cheap whore?”

“I’m sorry, Zack.”

“I take one afternoon off to golf with a friend and you think it’s national become a whore day.”

I look up in time to see him pull a shiny golf club from behind his back.

“You show me no respect and one day you’ll learn, but I’m starting to think you’re too fucking dumb.”

He takes a swing, connecting high on the side of my outer thigh. The sharp edge of the club slices my skin. He connects again, cutting me further open. I’ve learned to never scream or it will only last longer.

My crimson blood flows from my body, soaking into the pristine white carpet. It’s a sponge and my mistake is being absorbed by it.

He finally bends down, swaying back and forth from all the whiskey he’d drank. It takes him a bit to kneel down by me. The golf club is only feet from my reach. All I’d have to do is reach over and swing it at him.

He clutches to the back of my hair, pulling my face back up to look at him; his eyes are wild with no signs of his reign of hell stopping anytime. He’s a switch and can flip anytime. It’s society, the stress, and me fucking up that are his triggers.

“Now you’ve stained my carpet, you bitch,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “All because you’re an ugly ass whore.”

I place a hand on his chest, hoping it will calm him. It’s a mistake and I should know better.

“Don’t touch me. You’re not good enough.”

He pulls me by the hair until he has my face inches above the pool of blood on the carpet.

“You will not clean this or have it replaced. You’ll see this stain every single day and it will serve as a reminder to never disobey me again.”

My face is smashed into the cold liquid. I can barely get my nose and mouth to the side to breathe. He applies so much pressure to the back of my head, I swear I’m only inches from having my neck snapped.

I hear the sound of his zipper and then feel my skirt rip from my waist. He doesn’t remove my panties before he impales me. He’s in my ass without warning and I want to scream out my pain. It hurts so bad. All of it hurts. Every single thing hurts.

“Move.”

Kip’s voice pulls me from the horrible memory. I panic and pull at the ends of my hair, disgusted with myself. I hate myself. I fucking hate myself. My chest is heavy and I can’t pull air into my lungs with each second that goes by. I realize how pathetic and worthless of a human I really am. I’m in a downward spiral and can’t pull from it.

Ava and Darby back up, letting Kip near me. He bends down, holding out his arms and I panic.

“No,” I scream and slam back into the wall of the garage. “No.”

“Chloe, you’ve been triggered and need to calm down. I need you to breathe and work through it.” He raises both hands and steps back. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but you need to breathe in and out, okay?”

Kip’s voice is soothing and trained. So are his facial features and hand gestures. He’s a good guy trying to help and it only guts me even further. It’s the final fucking dull knife buried deep in my gut and is being slowly twisted.

“Who am I?” I whisper, before sliding down the wall and collapsing on my butt. I bury my face in my bent knees and sob.

I feel a hand on my leg and know it’s too little to be Kip’s.

“Please go,” I whisper between my sobs. “I can’t do this.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Ava responds.

I wail harder into my kneecaps.

A body slides down next to mine and just from the scent, I know it’s Kip. He doesn’t touch me and doesn’t talk for a long time. His breathing becomes rhythmic and I study it. It calms me down, but the silent tears still roll.

“I like your hair,” his deep voice finally booms.

“Chloe, you need to talk, honey. You can’t keep this all in.” Darby holds my other leg.

When I look up, Ava and Darby are sitting in front of me and Kip is at my side. I’m a numb shell of a person who’s lost her final gleam of hope in life. Memories of Zack will always haunt me. I’ll never be able to escape him. It’s like a prison sentence no matter how far I run from him.

My head becomes heavy on my shoulders, so I lean to the side until my cheek hits the top of Kip’s shoulder.

“The last time I had my…” I pause. “my hair cut. It was bad.”

“Go ahead,” Ava nods.

I relive the nightmare again when I let it spill from my soul. I don’t have anything left to puke this time and the tears have dried up. The invisible layer of shame and guilt blanket me.

My three friends remain frozen when I’m finished talking. Not one word is spoken. There’s no it’s going to be okay or you need to file charges. I’ve left them stunned.