Flawed Beauty (18 page)

“
Jace
,
please call me. It wasn’t what you think, please call me,” she said through great,
drawing breaths.

“You’re getting blood all over the
place. You should really do something about that,” Nick said coldly from the
doorway.

Despair at losing
Jace
and anger at Nick’s part in it, had her throwing
herself at him. She lifted both fists and pounded his chest.

“Why? Why did you do that? What did
I ever do to you to make you hate me so much? You, bastard! I hate you so
much!”

Nick easily captured her wrist in
his grasp and shoved her away from him. “What did you do?
What did you do
?
My life was perfect before you came. But then there you were, all big-eyed and
vulnerable. My parents couldn’t do enough for you. They walked around
pretending that you weren’t white trash. Well, I remembered and it made me
sick. I wanted them to see you for what you really were. But you know what?
Now, they won’t have anything to do with me. They wouldn’t even pay for my
college. I was forced to go to work…
to work
, while all my friends – and
even you,
you
who is worthless – went on to college. Imagine my surprise
when I looked inside their mailbox and found an envelope addressed to
you
,”
he spat. “I couldn’t
freakin
’ believe it. They turned
away their own son, but will still
associate
with the
likes of you,” he scoffed. “My life went to shit and I just wanted to return
the favor… and now I have. Looks like I won’t have to use this after all. Why
don’t I leave this here for your viewing pleasure?” he said, placing a CD on
the counter. “I have another copy so don’t worry; I’ll never forget our special
time together.”

With tears streaming down her face,
she screamed at him, “Get out of my house and don’t come back! I don’t want to
ever see you again!”

With a mocking laugh, he said, “As
I’ve said before; I. Don’t.
Care.
What.
You.
Want.” He punctuated his words with a jabbing finger in
the air.

Her shoulders sagged as the burning
fire extinguished as quickly as it’d been ignited. “Please just leave, Nick.
You’ve done what you set out to do. You have succeeded in destroying my life,
yet again. Mission accomplished,” she muttered quietly.

Walking past her to the door, he
punched her lightly in the arm. “Glad I could return the favor.
Until next time.
I’m heading back to
Illinois,
I have to go back to work.
Good to see you,
sis.
”

Without another word, Nick pulled
the door closed and whistled as he went down the stairs.

Picking up her
cellphone
,
she began to punch in
Jace’s
phone number once more.
She’d gotten halfway through the number when she hesitated. How would she
answer his questions?
Who was he? How do you know him? What is your
relationship with him? Why was he in your house naked?
Slowly, she clicked
off her phone.

She looked down at her injured hand,
it was a mess. The stitches that
Jace
had so
carefully put in it were all destroyed… just like everything. She ran her hand
under the water in the kitchen sink to remove the bits of gravel and dirt
that’d come embedded during her fall. She knew she should probably go back and
get more stitches, but couldn’t face
Jace
.

As she turned to go to her bedroom,
her foot slipped on something on the floor. Looking down, Tate saw the cupcake
Jace
had brought. It had been smashed on the floor. Her
heart broke at its sight. What a difference a few hours could make. She
swallowed convulsively at the thought of
Jace
taking
time out of his busy schedule to get her a cupcake and bring it to her. It was
the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. Seeing the crumpled delicacy,
Tate decided it was probably best the way things happened. She didn’t deserve
him – truth be told, he didn’t deserve her and all her baggage.

Sliding down the cabinet door, she
drew her knees up to the huge hole where her heart had been and mumbled through
her tear-clogged throat, “Happy birthday to me.”

Sobs ripped through her as the
reality of her life without
Jace
hit her.

Chapter 6

As
much as she didn’t want to, Tate dragged herself off to school the next day. In
the three classes she had with Tiffany, she carefully avoided sitting next to
her. She just couldn’t deal with her petty issues today. While she felt as if
she had an elephant sitting on her chest, she refused to cry any more. She’d
learned about the hard knocks of life a long time ago. She was thankful for the
money Alan had sent for her birthday. Between that, and money she had saved,
she could pay
Jace
back for the software program he’d
purchased. She’d make sure he got his money back and then she’d be done with
him. She wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with him at Zeal’s.

She was exhausted by the time she
got home due to her sleepless night, and her hand was swollen and throbbing.
She
unwrapped
the bandage and the slash running across
the length of her hand looked even worse. She carefully cleaned it out and
re-bandaged it before enclosing it in a glove. She was halfway down the stairs
when she realized she’d forgotten to eat today. Her stomach turned at the
thought of food anyway, so she kept going.

Thursday night was ladies night at
Zeal’s, and was busy, even with the use of a DJ. She refused to even pretend to
be civil to Nelson. The DJ had betrayed her to Nick and she’d never forgive
him.

When she moved to the bar for an
order, Thor asked, “How’s your hand?”

“Good, getting better,” she lied.

“Bet the doc was surprised to see
you, huh?” he asked.

“Yes, he was.”

She was surprised at how calm her
voice was. She could do this.

§§§

When she woke the next morning, her
hand really hurt, she felt headachy and very hot. She thought she was running a
fever. She downed a couple of ibuprofen on her way out the door.

By the end of the day, she had no
idea what had been discussed in any of her classes. She was happy Friday was a
half day. She crawled up the stairs to her apartment, forced herself to eat
some soup, before downing more ibuprofen. She curled up on her bed, longing for
sleep to come and claim her, but her chaotic thoughts wouldn’t let her rest.
Maybe she could just tell
Jace
the truth about
everything. He might understand. Her mind went back to their first date when he
told her with pride about his own family with the exception of his brother in
prison.

Rising from the bed, she opened the
closet door and pulled on the string which clicked on the naked light bulb
suspended there. With her uninjured hand, she patted across the shelf built in
above a rod extended the width of the closet. She finally felt the shoebox
shoved in the back. She had to stretch as much as she could to get the box
within her grasp. She pulled it down and went into the kitchen to look at its
contents.

At the table, she took the lid off
the box, turned it upside down, and let the contents scatter onto the table.
She looked at the old, yellowed newspaper clippings. This was all she had left
from her life as
Patanga
Moon. Her fingers shook when
she unfolded the brittle paper. In one corner was a grainy photograph of her
father, Travis Moon. His dark hair and eyes appeared black in the picture. Next
to it was a photo of her mother,
Tilda
Moon. She’d
always thought her mother might have been pretty once, but it’d been a long
time before the picture was taken.
Tilda
Moon kept
her hair bleached a white blonde. From years of smoking, her lips and the area
surrounding them had fine lines grooved into them. Her dark eyes were brittle.
She’d always had such a hard edge. Tate had never felt her mother loved her or
her older sisters.

Glancing away from the photo, Tate
thought momentarily of the sisters she’d not thought about in years. Her three
older sisters had all disappeared from her life, for what, at the time, had
seemed mysterious reasons. Now, Tate knew they’d probably suffered the fate
intended for her. She looked back down at the clipping and read the bold
heading:
Local Couple Involved in Child Sex Trade
. Tate ran her
fingertip over the words. She didn’t have to read the story any further; she
already knew the story by heart.

She set that clipping aside and
pulled another out. This particular one wasn’t folded, but had been cut out of
a small section of the paper – it was all the notoriety her mother received
from being shot to death after killing the police officer. Another clipping
outlined her father’s trial and how the people of the state were outraged he
hadn’t been sentenced to death, as the death penalty had been abolished in
Illinois just the year before. If the same thing happened today, he would be
sitting on death-row right now.

Scattered on the table amongst the
clippings were a couple dirty hair bows and a small bracelet which had turned
green over time. Tate picked up the bracelet and read the word stamped on the
small heart:
Angel
. She scoffed at the notion. Her life had been hell
for as long as she could remember. They’d lived in an old rented house in the
middle of nowhere. The yard had been composed mostly of dirt with a few grassy
patches. Her mother had not been much of a housekeeper and dishes were
continuously piled up high in the sink.

Her parents were big drinkers and
pack-a-day smokers and their house reeked of vomit and cigarettes. Once Tate
was old enough to understand the squalor of their existence, she never invited
any friends over – she was too embarrassed. She shuddered as she remembered the
night her father had ran his hands over her exposed body. Nick was right; she
was nothing but white trash.

No…
Jace
would never understand any of these things. She didn’t want
Jace
to
have
to understand it, or be touched by it in any way. She wanted him
to remember her time with him as it had been – beautiful, untainted, and pure –
the time before Nick, anyway. She wanted him to remember Tate Morgan, the
full-time college student who worked in a nightclub and gym to pay her way; not
Patanga
Moon, the dirty, poor, white trash nothing
whose own parents had found her worthless. The girl who’d slept her way through
high school.

She cringed at how her supposed
betrayal had hurt him; just as he’d been hurt by Brittany. But she’d rather him
think of her as a cheating tramp, than the sordid trash from the other side of
the tracks she actually was. She remembered a quote she’d read years before by
Dorothy Dix:
Confession is always a weakness. The grave soul keeps its own
secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.
She’d not defend herself
against what
Jace
thought he saw. That truly was the
least painful way.

§§§

Sometimes in life, the most horrific
nightmares happen when you’re not sleeping. The problem with them is… you can’t
wake up. Tate felt
Jace’s
presence in the bar long
before she ever laid eyes on him. His special brand of synergy caused the air
to crackle; it seemed to sizzle along all her nerve endings. She was standing
at the bar, waiting as Thor filled her tray with drinks, when
Jace
walked in through the back door. He wore distressed
jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. On his arm was a sultry
brunette with an hourglass figure showcased in a short skirt and red cowboy
boots. Her stomach clenched painfully and her body tensed in pure-out defense
of actually seeing him – but to actually see him with someone else was almost
her undoing.

He’d never returned her call and she
was thankful because she didn’t have any answers for him. She glanced up when
the tension got too great. Their eyes met briefly – his impenetrable cold stare
piercing her heart. She swallowed repeatedly at the huge knot lodged in her
throat and looked away quickly. She now knew what a crane must feel like when
trying to swallow a fish down its long, narrow throat.

She blinked rapidly and took several
long breaths to try to ease the discomfort in her chest. She looked up to find
Thor giving her a speculative look with raised eyebrows. She just gave a small
shake of her head, begging him silently not to comment or ask – she couldn’t
endure it.

Clearing her throat, she said,
“Thanks, Thor.”

“Anytime, doll,” he murmured.

Tate carefully lifted her tray in
her uninjured hand and balanced it as best she could. She kept her back to the
band, not having the fortitude to chance seeing
Jace’s
stony gaze. She plastered a fake smile on her face and continued on to her
tables. She decided to concentrate on her customers and keep the peripheral
things where they should be… just beyond her thoughts. She could do this. She’d
been through much worse things than this in her life and she’d survived… at
least that was the speech she gave herself.

Tate was feeling pretty proud of
herself for maintaining in the face of such a daunting task as being in the
same room as
Jace
. And she had maintained, until the
lights dimmed and he stepped up to the microphone to sing a song originally
sang by Jesse McCartney called
Beautiful Soul
. She tried to tune him out
of her head and not listen to the words or his soulful voice, but he pulled her
into him as surely as if he’d lassoed her.

Partially hidden behind a wooden
support beam, she leaned her shoulder against it as she turned woeful eyes to
the stage when he sang,
You’re
the one I
wanna
chase, you’re the one I
wanna
hold. I won’t let another minute go to
waste,
I want
you and your beautiful soul.
Tears stung her eyes – beautiful soul indeed.
She hoped
Jace
could find his beautiful soul. Despair
made her shoulders sag as if a hundred pounds of bricks had been placed on top
of them. He would move on and find someone more suitable for him. But she’d
never find anyone she’d want, need, or love more than him.

As his song came to the last chorus,
even through the darkened room, his eyes seemed to seek hers out as he
finished:
I won’t let another minute go to waste, I want you and your
beautiful soul.
As the musicians continued to play out the song,
Jace
threw back one of the shots continuously lined up for
him, left the stage, and scooped up the dark-haired girl with the impossibly
short skirt and red cowboy boots, spun her lightly into his arms before
lowering his head to hers, kissing her long and hard.

The breath left Tate’s body at his
intentionally cruel display. He didn’t have to prove to her he could have
anyone he wanted, or that she, Tate, was of little consequence to him. She
already knew that – she had always known it. Breathing rapidly, she turned
away, her eyes bright with unshed tears. It was indeed over; and one day she’d be
happy about it… but not today. 

The dull throb just behind her eyes
kept in perfect beat to the throb of her hand. Tate moved to the bar.

“Hey, Thor, can I get a glass of
water?”

“Sure. You okay? That was quite an
impressive display there.”

Taking a deep breath to calm
herself, she replied, “I… we decided to see other people,” she murmured.

She reached into her pocket and
pulled out two more ibuprofen for her hand. She’d never get through her shift
without some relief for the pain. She tried to squeeze it into a fist but it
was so badly swollen she could barely get her fingers to curl. This wasn’t
good. She’d have to soak it tonight after her shift. Just a few more hours and
she’d be free. She took the water Thor gave her and tossed back the tablets.

“Thanks. I need two pitchers and
eight glasses,” she told Thor.

“Listen, why don’t you break the
order in half and give your hand a rest?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,”
she answered as she raised a hand to her flushed face.

As much as she tried not to continually
glance his way, Tate found it hard to keep her eyes off of
Jace
and the dark-haired girl. They’d danced several dances together and shared a
drink. She watched as he playfully tucked her hair behind her ears.
Jace
deserved a nice, normal girl, from a nice, normal
family.

It was just too painful after that.
Heartsick, she heaved a huge sigh of relief when Last Call was finally given.
Reggie and Sabrina, the other two waitresses, volunteered to finish the cleanup
once everyone was gone.

Turning to Thor once more, she
reached into her apron and pulled out an envelope with
Jace’s
name scrawled across it.

“Hey, Thor.
Can you give this to
Jace
for me?”

“Anything for you,” he said with a
grin.

“Thanks.”

She glanced once more in
Jace’s
direction before heading out.
Jace
and the girl with the short skirt and cowboy boots were standing at the back of
the club, close to the band dais. She had her back against the wall and
Jace
had his hands flat against the wall, leaning into her.
Tate turned away the instant before his lips met hers. With a heavy heart, Tate
turned and left the bar.