Violet is Blue (Hothouse series) (8 page)

“I don’t think so.”

“C’mon,” she gyrated next to him. “I know you want to.”

He glanced at me.

“You better go, or she’ll hump your leg.”

He laughed. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Dahlia led Patrick to the dance floor and she elbowed out a spot for them to dance. I watched them for a bit then my gaze roamed as I sipped my drink. I spotted a tall, dark haired guy in black on the floor, rubbing up and down on a busty girl with a lot of tattoos. I couldn’t see his face, but it looked like Devon to me.

My heart sped up a little as I watched him move his hips and his hands over his dancing partner. Then his head came up a little, and I saw it wasn’t him. This guy was much older, and not nearly as attractive.

I turned away but felt a presence behind me.

“Having a good time?” It was a whisper in my ear.

I swung around to see Jordan standing behind me, a bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

“What do you want? Did you follow me here?”

“Dating your mom’s secretary?” He gestured toward the dance floor.

“None of your business.”  I didn’t like that he was here, obviously alone. It meant he’d only come here for me.

“I’m surprised you’re not here with that freak Devon.”

“Why would I be?”

“I heard you two got something going. It’s all around school now.”

“Whatever. Just leave okay?”

He took a sip of beer, then said, “Did you get my message?”

I gaped at him, my hands starting to shake. “What did you say?”

“My message. Did you get it?”

My heart leapt into my throat. He was the one. He had been sending me flowers and gifts and stalking me.

“Stay away from me.” I took a few distancing steps back.

He frowned. “What’s your problem?”

“I said stay away.” My voice was raised this time, and other people looked over at us.

Dahlia and Patrick rushed to me in seconds.

“Is there a problem?” Patrick asked, his gaze on Jordan.

“Please make him leave me alone.” I turned into Patrick, nestling against him. He put a protective arm around me.

“You heard her. Get lost.”

“I don’t think so. We have some unfinished business to discuss.”

Patrick waved one of the bouncers over.

“What’s up, Pat?”

“This guy is harassing my girlfriend.”

The bouncer scowled at Jordan. “You heard the man. Let’s go. You’re out of here.”

“Fuck you! She’s not his girlfriend. She’s mine.”

“Out now.” The bouncer reached for Jordan’s arm.

“Get your hands off me!”

After more scrambling, the bouncer, who was much bigger than Jordan, managed to get a hold on him, and ushered him to the exit.

Jordan yelled, “You’ll be alone sometime, Violet.”

I shuddered, and wrapped my arms around Patrick. He rubbed his hand down my back. “You’re all right. I got you.”

“Jesus,” Dahlia said, “What the hell is wrong with him? It’s like he snapped or something.”

“I want to go home,” I mumbled into Patrick’s chest.

He stroked my hair. “Okay, honey. Just let me make sure your friend is out and not hanging around.”

He pulled back, and rushed off toward the exit.

Dahlia hugged me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded.

“I can’t believe Jordan acted like that.  Do you think he’s your guy?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it’s looking that way more and more.”

“Wow, just when you think you know someone, they turn out to be a psycho or something.” She shook her head. “Wait till people find out at school.”

“Don’t say anything,”

She frowned. “Why not?  He deserves to be ousted as a psycho.”

“I know, it’s just that, school’s almost over. I just want to be done with it.  Finish my finals, graduate and move on.”

“Okay, I won’t.” She hugged me tighter. “But I really think you should tell your mom.”

I didn’t say anything, but I knew she was right. I’d been foolish to not tell her right away. If something had happened to me, I knew my mom would blame herself for not knowing, not seeing it. I didn’t want to do that to her.

Patrick returned. “All right, he’s gone. Let’s get you girls out of here.”

As he ushered us out of the club, some revelers stopped to gawk at us, having probably witnessed Jordan’s scuffle with the bouncer. I kept my gaze downcast. But there was one set of eyes that drew my attention and I looked up.

Devon leaned against one wall, drinking a beer, and watched me with an intensity that made me shiver.

I looked away and continued out of the club with Patrick and Dahlia.  Once outside, Patrick led us back to his car, which was parked around the corner.  The moment I came around on the sidewalk I knew something was wrong.

Patrick had stopped dead in his tracks.

I glanced past him to his car and put my hand to my mouth and gasped.

His car had been totaled. All the windows had been smashed in. The bumper was dented in several spots. The side passenger mirror had been kicked off and it hung from a few wires. And the wheels had been slashed. The car was now rested in its rims.

“Holy fuck,” Dahlia breathed.

“Oh my God, Pat.” I came up next to him and touched his arm.

He swallowed, then looked down at me. He was smiling but it was forced. “I’ll call a cab and get you two home.”  He dug out his cellphone from his jacket pocket and walking down the street a little dialed a number.

Dahlia stepped in next to me. “Do you think Jordan?”

“I don’t want to think it was him.”

“How would he know this was Patrick’s car?”

“I’m pretty sure he followed us here.”

Patrick walked back to us. “Cab’s on its way.”

“Are you going to call the police?” I asked.

He nodded. “Already done.”

“I’m sorry Pat. I feel like this is my fault.”

“Don’t. This is
not
your fault Violet.” He reached for me, and cradled me to him. “Just stay safe, okay? If you feel threatened in any way, from this guy, or anyone else, call me. I will be there ASAP.”

When the cab finally came, I felt like crying. I didn’t want to deal with this anymore. I wanted it all to stop.  Why was this happening to me? Did I somehow invite this into my life? Did I somehow give Jordan permission to treat me this way?  I’d read about girls getting into trouble, being abused by their boyfriends and I’d always thought that would never happen to me. That I was too strong, too knowledgeable. That only ignorant weak girls allowed this to happen to them.  Like it was their fault.

Now I was thinking the same thing about myself.

––––––––

I
flipped over onto my other side and pulled the blanket up tighter to my face. The light from my window nearly blinded me, so I grabbed another pillow and put it over my face. I never wanted to get out of my bed.

When I’d gotten home last night, I’d gone straight to my bedroom and locked the door. I’d gotten into bed with my phone in my hand, and then laid there for hours wide awake, taking turns between staring at the door and the window. I didn’t know what time I’d finally fallen asleep, but I knew it had been close to dawn because I’d seen the sky pinken before I’d closed my eyes.

My door opened and my mom came in. I closed my eyes hoping she’d think I was still asleep. But that didn’t deter her. She sat on my bed by my feet.

“It’s one o’clock, hun.”

I opened my eyes and looked at her.

“Are you feeling okay?” She reached over and laid her hand across my forehead.

“Just a headache.”

She removed her hand but she didn’t look convinced. Instead she handed me a small box. “This came for you this morning by courier.”

I didn’t want to take it, fearing who it was from, but I couldn’t let her know.  I took the box, and set it down on my table. “Thanks.”

“Violet,” she started, grabbing my hand. “Is there something you want to tell me? I know something is going on with you.”

“Mom, I...just need some time, okay?”

She patted my hand. “I’ll give you some, but remember I will never judge you. Ever. Whatever it is, you can tell me without consequence.”

“I know, Mom.”

She stood, and then kissed my forehead. “I’ll make you some crepes when you come down.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too, baby doll.”

When she was gone, I picked up the box. I shook it. Something moved inside it. Something broken possibly. I took a pair of scissors and slid open the box.  I opened it to find a bunch of broken glass inside.  Underneath it was a rose bloom and a note. I reached in to grab the paper when I nicked myself on a piece of glass. Blood beaded to the surface of my skin, and then dripped onto my bed sheets.

The note read: A little souvenir.

My cell phone rang and I dropped the box. Glass shards scattered over my bed and floor. I snatched the phone and answered it.

“Violet?”  It was Dahlia and her voice was unsteady.

“What’s happened?”

“Jordan’s in the hospital. In a coma. Someone kicked the shit out of him last night.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe it. “Oh my God.”

“You don’t think Patrick did it, do you?”

“No. He wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know, V, he was pretty pissed off about his car. I mean damn, Jordan fucked up his shit.”

“We don’t even know if it was Jordan who wrecked his car.”

“Things are out of control, Violet.  You need to tell someone about what's been happening.  I know there's more going on then what you've even told me.”

“I know.”

“Do the smart thing and tell someone, today, before someone else gets hurt or worse.”

Tears welled in my eyes. I rubbed at them to stop the tears from falling. I sniffled.

“Do you want me to come over? I can be there in ten minutes.”

“No.  Maybe later.  I'll call you.” I hit end on my phone, then quickly cleaned up the glass and put it back in the box.

I jumped off the bed and went for the closet. I got dressed as quick as possible. There was someone I needed to talk to.

I found my mom and Mark in their office going over some paperwork.

Mark spotted me first.  “Hey, what’s up?”

“Do you have Patrick’s home address?”

He frowned. “Yeah, why?”

“Could I get it please?”

My mom looked at me then Mark. “It’s in your rolodex isn’t it?”

That seemed to prompt him into action, and he flipped through it. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“He’s helping me with a school project.”

He gave me a smile. “I thought I was your project helper.”

“I know how busy you’ve been, and Pat offered to help. So?”

Mark handed me a card. “Here it is.”

“Thanks.”  I took it, and slid it into my pants pocket.  “I’ll be back later.”

“You don’t want those crepes before you go?” My mom asked.

“I’m just going to grab a smoothie on the way.”

“Okay, hun. See you later.”

I gave her a small smile then left.

As I drove to the address Mark gave me, using my Tomtom to get me there, I wondered if he suspected something. He hadn’t looked too happy to give me Pat’s address, or that he was ‘helping’ me with a school project. I mean, they both had to know that was a lie. There was only two weeks left of school, what kind of project could I possibly be doing?

I drove past the cemetery where my father was buried, turned left, then right again. My GPS system announced I had reached my destination. I parked in front of a neat little bungalow, with a flowerbed and a well-kept lawn. I hadn’t realized just how close Patrick lived to my house.

I went up to the front door and rang the bell. I waited for a couple of minutes, but no one answered the door. So I knocked, and still there was no answer. I put my ear to the door, but couldn’t hear anyone inside. It was a nice day maybe he was in the back and couldn’t hear the doorbell.

I went around the side of the house, and opened the gate on the fence. The yard was as immaculate as the front. Patrick must’ve done a lot of gardening. Although I just couldn’t picture it. He didn’t seem the type.

He wasn’t in the yard, so I walked up to the back door intent on ringing the doorbell. But that’s when the dog door, which I hadn’t noticed, opened and a very large, very menacing dog came bounding out to bark at me.  I did the last thing I should’ve done, and ran.

And of course the dog chased me.

I ended up cowering against the back fence while the dog jumped at me and barked.

“Max! Back off!”

I looked past the giant black dog and saw Patrick on the back stoop, rushing toward me.

The dog immediately sat on his backside and stopped barking. Instead his long tongue lolled out from his jaws of death, and it looked like he was smiling at me.

Patrick grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet.  “Are you all right?”

I nodded, although I wasn’t sure I was all right. My body was shaking violently.

“Go lie down,” he said to the dog.

It did while Patrick led me into his house.  He sat me in a chair at the kitchen table. Then he opened a cupboard, took out a glass and poured alcohol into it. He put it in my hands.

“Drink it.”

I did, and nearly choked as it seared my throat.  “What the hell was that?”

“Scotch. It should calm your nerves.”

“It’s not working.” And I held out the glass.  He filled it half way and I drank it down.

I didn’t choke this time, and my belly was getting warm.

“Better?”

I nodded.

He sat down beside me. “You should’ve called first. I would’ve penned up Max.”

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“There is a lot you don’t know about me.”  He poured a scotch for himself and pounded it back. “Now, why are you here?”

I stared him in the eyes. “Did you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I want to know if it was you.”

“You’ve lost me, darling.”

“Jordan was beaten into a coma last night.”

Patrick sat back in the chair. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s horrible.”

“Is it?”

“Ah, I see, you think I did the beating.”

“He trashed your car.”