“I do?” Mercy asks Whistler and the confusion on his face makes me want to laugh.
I have to pinch my lips together to stay professional.
“Yeah, you do. This is going to be the club bar, Prez.”
“No,” Mercy growls. “I don’t care about us hanging out here or the house attached. You’re right. It’s a good idea and that should be the home base, but I didn’t buy this place and set all those workers free to fall into the same place. Those girls that worked here needed a safe place and they didn’t have it. I refuse to let it happen again, goddamn it.” Mercy kicks a board, and it flies across the room.
The loud thud of the slab hitting the wall has me jumping and closing my eyes, the noise reminding me of when Kenneth slams me against the door. I can still feel a bruise the doorknob left in my lower back.
“Hey,” Whistler stands in front of me and tilts my head up with his fingers. They are rough with callouses and stained with grease. I bet it’s from working on his bike. “He wouldn’t hurt you. You’re safer here than you are anywhere else, Charlie. I promise you that.” He feels so different from Kenneth. Where Whistler is rugged and tough, Kenneth is soft from moisturizing his hands. Where Whistler’s touch is softer than I’ve ever felt, Kenneth’s is the hardest.
Appearances aren’t everything.
Angels and devils are all the same.
It’s the place they take you to that matters.
And I’ve lived in hell already.
What’s heaven like?
“No, I’m sorry. Damn, I’m screwing all this up? No, I hate abusers and the women that worked here before, they were all running from something. I want this place to be a safe haven of sorts, which means the rooms here in the bar are off-limits to members. If the club is going to be here, then abuse is out of the question, got me?” Mercy questions me for the first time as a member.
“I got you, Prez. You won’t hear any complaints from us,” I say.
“This fucking paint is ruining the leather of my boots!” One bellows from somewhere else.
I giggle and step away from Whistler again. “Okay, so like a bar, restaurant, shelter?” I step around broken pieces of floorboard and look up at the second floor that’s sealed off from us. “What’s up there?”
“Spare rooms. Upstairs used to be where the girls could be rented and… have sex. I changed that. No sex up there. Ever. Those rooms are all complete. I only want the main floor to be the focus and the house attachment.”
“Okay, that’s a lot of work. The numbers aren’t going to be low.”
“I don’t expect a low number. I think I did more harm than good trying to do this on my own.”
“No,” I try to sound reassuring, but I know the truth can be heard. “Let’s highball. I don’t want to give you a low number and then you be surprised if it costs more. Let’s shoot for sixty thousand. High number, so you can prepare—” Mercy cuts me off when he reaches around the table and two stacks of money appear. “Here’s a hundred thousand. Do what you need to do.”
“I…” I open my mouth and close it. I do that a few times as I stare at the money. I’ve never seen so much in one place. I feel dirty like I’m doing a drug deal. “I’ll throw in a sign for the place?” I squeak. “What’s the name?”
“Mercy’s,” the distinguished man in charge says and if I’m not mistaken, I hear a tone of sadness.
“Color and font?”
“Blue. She liked blue,” Mercy answers.
I don’t know who he is talking about but she sounds important and something bad must have happened if he is talking in the past tense.
“As for font, I don’t care. Surprise me. I’m calling it a night. Thanks for coming Charlie. I’ll expect a phone call on when you will get started.”
“We will be here tomorrow. Business has been slow so we’re kind of desperate for work.” I shouldn’t have said that. He might pull back the offer now.
“Great. Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Did I say something wrong?” I whisper to Whistler as I watch Mercy walk away.
“No, he’s been through a lot lately. The sign to this place is important, so make it beautiful. He’d want that.”
“Sure, not a problem. Well—” I gather the stacks of cash awkwardly “—I guess I’ll be seeing you, Whistler.”
“Wesley,” he corrects me. “You can call me Wesley.”
“Wesley.” I try it out. “It suits you. I like it.”
“Let me walk you out.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t care. You’re safer with me at your side.”
If he only knew how true those words were.
Help me. Save me. Can’t you see the plea in my eyes?
We walk in silence as he escorts me to the truck. My wedges can’t handle the parking lot gravel too well and my ankle bends. Wesley is there to catch me again.
Always catching me instead of letting me fall.
“You have to get rid of those shoes, Cupcake. You’re going to get hurt and what if I’m not there to catch you?”
The next time I get hurt will be tonight and he won’t be there anyway.
“I’ll be alright.” I tug away from his arms, and he frowns, opening the truck door for me when he notices my hurry.
“Charlie, you’d tell me if something is wrong, right?”
“I don’t know you well enough to tell you if anything was right, Wesley,” I say honestly. “I’ll be seeing you around.” The truck grinds as I start it, struggling to start as I turn the key. It always does this.
The engine finally comes to life and grey smoke comes from the exhaust. “You know, I can fix that for you.”
“It’s alright. It’s as good as it’s going to get.” I wonder if he catches the hidden meaning behind that statement.
“Be safe, Cupcake.” He walks next to the truck as I reverse.
“I always do my best.” I turn the wheel and begin to drive away, and he taps the side of the truck with his hand to say goodbye.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see him watching me as I go. My eyes burn and my fingers curl around the steering wheel to hold on tight. Why does it hurt to pull away? It’s like any chance I had at being saved disappeared into a cloud of smoke.
I want nothing more than to turn this truck around and run into his arms. I don’t know why I’d put blind faith in a man I hardly know but my gut tells me his embrace is safer than Kenneth’s.
I sniffle and wipe my cheek as my phone rings. “Hello?” I answer.
“Where the hell are you? You’re ten minutes late and fucking dinner isn’t ready.”
My stomach curls in fear and any strength I had with Whistler vanishes when I hear the anger in Kenneth’s voice. I become the compliant wife, the one that lost her backbone a dozen beatings ago. I try to do everything right, I do, but it’s never enough.
He always finds something to get angry at me for.
“My Dad needed me to stop for a job estimate, Kenneth. I swear, I’m on my way home.”
“You could have called me! I’ve been starving. You know how I like to start my evenings when I come home.”