2!A Stranger Instead!

ANDREA

Hearing those words from Marcus and Veronica is one thing but seeing them entwined on the bed is another.

My breath cuts in my throat and I feel the sting of betrayal cut deep.

I back away, my vision blurred by my tears, and flee the house, my heart pounding in my chest.

I get into my car and drive away, wanting to be as far away from them as possible.

I think of going back home but I can't. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to face anyone. I don't want to have to look at my Tío and Tía's face or even Veronica's. I can't.

I keep driving, my vision a bit blurry, and stop in full force as soon as I see the signage of a club.

I sit in the car for a moment, staring at the entrance. In four years with Marcus I have been to a club exactly three times. He didn't like it.

He said bad things happened in places like this, that men couldn't be trusted, that he needed to know I was somewhere safe. I believed every word of it.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes and hold them there until the burning settles into something I can manage.

What a fool I have been.

There is no plan. I don't know what I am going to do inside or how long I will stay or what comes after.

I just need to be somewhere that isn't my car and isn't his apartment and isn't the house where my Tío and Tía are waiting for a version of tomorrow that is never going to happen.

I am still moving toward the entrance when I hear a sharp horn directly behind me. I have drifted backward while parking, not far, barely enough to matter, but enough. I turn and see headlights and a car that has stopped just in time.

I pull forward quickly, cut the engine and get out.

The other driver is already out of his car and walking toward me with the particular energy of someone who has something to say.

I straighten up and prepare myself for it. I have nothing left tonight. No patience, no softness, nothing.

A man in a cream suit. I can see his face contorted in a mask of fury.

As he storms toward me I brace myself for a verbal onslaught. But as he draws closer I see the anger in his face morph into concern, and I realize I am not prepared for this.

As he gets closer the anger in his eyes softens slightly when he sees me, my face streaked with tears and my mascara smudged.

"What the hell were you doing? Do you want to get yourself and others killed?" He asks, his voice laced with a hint of concern despite his anger.

I open my mouth to speak but all that comes out is a choked sob. I slump back into the seat of my car burying my face in my hands.

I can see him hesitating, frustration warring with a flicker of worry.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asks, his voice softer this time.

I can't respond. I just keep crying, the sobs wracking my whole body.

"Are you headed to the club?" he finally asks, his voice gentle despite the throbbing vein in his throat. "I could stay with you if you want."

I shake my head. My voice is muffled by my hands.

The thought of facing anyone and explaining the mess I am in is unbearable.

"Come on," the man persists, his voice firm. "You are in no state to walk in there on your own. You will be eaten alive. Let me walk you in," he insists.

I don't utter a word. The image of Veronica and Marcus flashes before my eyes. A cruel reminder of my shattered world.

The man sighs, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. "Look, either you go in with me or I walk away and you can deal with all of that alone," he says, pointing at the group of men who already have their eyes on me.

I look up, feeling disgusted. He is right. If I walk into that club alone I will be eaten alive and won't survive it.

With a shaky nod I concede defeat. "Alright," I croak, my voice hoarse with tears.

"Good," he says, relief washing over his features. "Get in my car."

Reluctantly I nod and get out of my car. He guides me to his vehicle, helps me into the passenger seat, and signals his driver to take care of my car and bring it along.

I steal a glance at my companion as he gets into the car.

He is handsome in a rugged way with dark hair that sweeps across his forehead. When he turns to look at me, my eyes meet piercing amber-colored eyes that hold a hint of curiosity.

"Where to?" he asks, his voice still laced with concern.

I bite my lip, unsure of what to say. Anywhere. Literally anywhere as long as it isn't my home, isn't my life and isn't the nightmare I am running from.

"Anywhere. Just take me anywhere," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

The man raises an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "That's not very specific," he says with a faint smile at the corner of his lips.

My resolve hardens. I don't want a conversation. I don't want pity. All I crave is a temporary escape.

A brief release from the mess that has become my life. Suddenly a reckless thought, born out of desperation and heartache, crosses my mind.

"Your place," I blurt out, shocking myself.

The man's smile vanishes, replaced by a look of utter bewilderment. "My place?" he echoes. "What do you mean?"

"Anywhere you are going is fine," I insist.

He sighs, clearly uncertain but left without a choice, and drives toward the club garage.

The ride is mostly silent, only the echo of my quiet sobs filling the space between us.

As we pull up in front of an elevator that looks like it leads to a penthouse inside the club, the man turns to me.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home or somewhere else?" he asks.

I shake my head. The tears have finally receded, leaving behind a raw vulnerability inside me.

I can see him hesitating but after a moment he sighs.

"Alright," he says. "I don't know what's going on but if you want to talk about it I'm here."

"Thanks," I mumble as he helps me out of the car and leads me to the elevator that takes us to his penthouse.

Inside, he guides me to the couch and brings me a glass of whiskey which, surprisingly, I take with shaky hands.

"What happened?" he asks, sitting beside me. "Why were you crying?"

I can't bring myself to tell him. The words are too painful to say. I just shake my head, fresh tears falling down my cheeks.

Seeing that I don't want to talk he rises. "If you don't mind I need to freshen up. I've had a long day," he says and without waiting for my response he goes into his bedroom.

When he steps out of his bathroom he is surprised to see me in his room.

"What are you doing here? Do you need something?" he asks, the only thing covering his body a towel around his waist.

"Are you married?" I ask, looking at him with an unreadable expression that clearly shocks him.

He blinks in surprise. "No. Why are you…."

"Engaged? Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask, cutting him off.

I can see he is puzzled by my line of questioning but he responds anyway. "No."

"Would you have sex with me?" I ask bluntly.