“Is he picking you up?” She’s back to staring at the sink she’s cleaning. That’s what happens every time I bring up the subject of her scumbag ex-fiancé. It’s been two years though––and officially time to worry.
“It’s impossible to get him to stop. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
I walk to the end of the bar to clean up the well area when, out of nowhere, the flash of a cellphone blinds me. I rub the floating orbs out of my eyes to see a middle-aged woman––with a raging Botox addiction by the waxy texture of her face––giving me a sly, tight-lipped smile.
“Star News. Would you like to comment on the rumors that Calvin Shaw is impotent?”
“What?!” I shout in outrage. “He’s not impotent!”
That’s my first mistake.
“So you are sleeping with him. Does he know who you are? Who your husband was? Are you after his money?” She pelts me with questions so fast I don’t have time to do anything other than stand there frozen. The flash of her second photo snaps me out of a deep freeze. I search for Amber and find her busy mixing drinks for a fresh set of customers. I have to get out of there, away from the prying eyes of this woman before I break down in front of her. Ducking out from behind the bar, I march double time toward the kitchen with the reporter hot on my heels.
“Mrs. Blake? Mrs. Blake one more question––” The urge to refute whatever she hurls at me gets the better of me. My steps slow.
That’s my second mistake.
“Does Calvin Shaw know your husband killed himself to protect you?”
As the words hit me, the ground beneath my feet seems to fall away. The oxygen is sucked out of my lungs and my heart beats so hard inside my chest I’m pretty sure it’s about to implode into a black hole.
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.
But it’s too late. The panic attack sets in before I can head it off. On noodle legs, I somehow manage to stumble to the employee lounge and lock myself in the bathroom. Splashing water on my face doesn’t help. No matter what I do I can’t catch my breath. Sucking in gulps of air that never seem to be enough, I lean against the bathroom wall as long as I can. My knees buckle and my body does a slow slide down. Struggling for every tiny breath of air, it gets too much to fight against. I’m tired beyond measure, so goddamn tired. I just want to sleep for a thousand years. Until all of this fades away. Until I fade away. I don’t have the energy to fight it any longer. Resting my forehead on my knees, I close my eyes and let go.
“You selfish, fucking prick!”
Amber’s voice jolts me out of the dark numbness I’m drifting in. Her ladylike shout is followed closely by a bang, bang, bang. The door rattles on its hinges. I’m actually surprised it doesn’t splinter into a million pieces. Where am I? Oh yeah, I’m huddled on the floor of the bathroom, arms wrapped around my knees, forehead resting on said knees. I have absolutely no concept of time. As in what time it is, or how long I’ve been sitting here.
“If something’s happened to her, I swear on all that’s holy, they won’t find a single tooth of yours to identify, not a goddamn filling.”
Who the heck is she screaming at? The banging persists. Then I hear the click of the lock. The door is pushed open and a large man crams inside the small space. Calvin? What the hell is he doing here? Suddenly he’s on his knees in front of me, scowling fiercely. What’s his problem? Because I can’t take any more crap tonight. I just can’t. He grips my arms way too tightly.
“Ouch.” That startles him. His grip immediately relaxes.
“Let go of her, you pig.” Amber is trying with zero success to push the big man out of the way.
“Are you okay?” Calvin’s worry is palpable, his face tight. “What happened?”
‘Your husband killed himself’…the memory comes crashing back.
“I had a panic attack,” I mumble. My eyes flicker between the fury on Amber’s face and the concern on Calvin’s.
“This is all your fault,” she growls at Calvin, who continues to act like she’s not standing there ready to murder his ass. He runs his extra large and very warm hands up and down the length of my arms. God it feels so good.
“Is this the first time?” he asks softly. Shame robs me of the ability to speak. I shake my head, my eyes moving away from his perceptive gaze. I should be stronger. I should be able to control this. “Can you tell me what happened?”
After exhaling deeply, I start to form actual words. “Reporter from Star News was here…asking about us.”