One Bride for Five Mountain Men

Again I think of King.

It’s not him, it’s me. I’m the kind of person who attracts this. Who trusts too much, who believes what people tell them. I’m alone, I’m something to take advantage of. I don’t have anyone, and I never did.

I feel the urge to throw up again and as I turn to the stall, it’s already shooting out of my mouth. I’m projectile vomiting. Great.

The poor waitress.

It goes mostly in the toilet and I stab futilely at what didn’t with a balled up bit of toilet paper. My stomach churns like the bowl’s contents as I think of what on earth I should do now. I guess the feeling that I was separate from other people, that I couldn’t do anything without Kelsey was partly from other people and the way that they treated me. Who knows if any of them knew? Could my teachers have known? My classmates must have.

I remember someone calling me a slut, and I didn’t know why. But it must have been after I snuck my boyfriend of the time in my room and had sex with him. He mustn’t have known he was being watched, either. Unless he was in on it.

Now I don’t know if I can trust anyone. Why should I?

Is nobody trustworthy?

I’m the only one I can trust, maybe. But if I could really trust myself, I wouldn’t have ended up with R in that hotel room. I wouldn’t have let myself have a best friend betray me for my whole life.

Clearly I can’t even count on my own self when push comes to shove.

I wipe my face again. I have to go back out there, find out what the website is, see what I can learn about this. See if I can shut it down. Come to terms with the fact my whole life has changed. Nowhere is safe.

I wash my face in the diner bathroom sink, and look myself in the eyes once more. There’s something cold there that I haven’t seen before. Maybe something inside me is finally dead. Some, stupid, trusting and naive part of me is finally dead. And gone. I hope forever.

I shut the tap and grab some paper towels, running their rough texture over my skin. It doesn’t feel much better, but at least it’s private. Or at least I think so. I look around suspiciously, for cameras in the ceiling, in the soap dispenser, anywhere. Maybe nothing is private. Maybe privacy is an old, outdated concept.

Pulling the door open with a squeak, I walk slowly back to my table.

“You okay, hon?” the waitress asks. “Everything still good?” She’s suspicious. I wonder if she’s ever watched me. Does she know who I am?

“Fine, thanks,” I answer. “I’ll take that bill now,” I say.

“Sure thing,” she says, and the old register rings its totals and I hand her some money.

“Keep the change,” I say, and quickly stuff my things in my purse.

“Thanks,” she says. My stomach just rolls over and I leave, walking blindly out the door and into someone.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growls, and I tell him to “fuck off,” almost like a reflex. When he meets my eyes, I shiver. Does he know who I am too? Suddenly everyone’s an enemy. I pull my cardigan around myself tighter, scanning the street. The muscles in my face harden. There’s a street vendor, selling sunglasses across the way. The light’s almost ready to change, but I run out in the road, and make it across. I buy the biggest pair I can find and disappear into the subway. I grab a newspaper as well, to hide my face so that I can think things over anonymously. In New York City, one of the best places to hide is in plain sight.

I have no idea how to deal with this, who to ask, what to do. But I know only one person with the kind of money to hit the problem at its source.

Chapter 14

Raleigh

The security screen flickers to life along with the door chim

e. Jordan's face is in the center, blurry and slightly distorted from the fisheye lens, but that can’t stop me from understanding what I am seeing.

She knows. She finally knows. And she’s come to me.

I palm the access buzzer and open the front door, waiting with my heart pounding in my chest. Finally the elevator doors slide open down the hall and I can hear her footsteps, coming closer in a rush.

She practically falls into my arms as she comes through the doorway, shuddering and shaking like a leaf.

"All right,” I murmur as I hold her close to me, folding my arms around her and trying to hold her so tight she can’t tremble anymore. But she flattens her palms against my chest and pushes herself away from me.

“It's all a lie,” she spits out. Her upper lip curls back in an animal snarl and her hand tremble up to her hair. She looks like she is on the verge of a mental break.