I rolled back onto the couch to ease the pain of my aching ribs. Closing my eyes, I tried to push away the memory of Aaron’s fists hitting my side and the pain shooting through my bones as he punched me over and over. He was probably back at the house by now, furious that I hadn’t cleaned up the mess he’d made and left without telling him where I was going.
A spike of fear pressed into my mind. What if he figured out where I was and came looking for me? If he found me here, Gemma could get hurt, along with her beautiful apartment. Pushing myself up, I slowly swung my legs off the couch to stand. I needed to get out of there before anyone else found themselves on the receiving end of Aaron’s anger or his fists.
“Hey, I got you an interview for Thursday night. What are you doing?”
I looked up and saw Gemma staring down at me. “I have to go. I don’t want Aaron to find me here and hurt you too.”
She placed her hand on my shoulder and stilled my movement. “Abbi, sit down. I’m not going to get hurt, honey. Don’t worry. If he comes here, I’ll get the cops and they’ll take care of him.”
I lowered myself to the couch and hung my head. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt too. He’ll be furious if he figures out where I am.”
“Then he’ll have to deal with me. I’m pretty fucking sick of his bullshit, so he doesn’t want to mess with me today. For now, you can stay on that couch until you feel better. I don’t have work tonight, so I’ll be right here the whole time. I won’t give him the chance to hurt you again.”
Looking up at her, I saw in those beautiful green eyes of hers she meant business. “Okay. I think the Vicodin are kicking in anyway, so I’ll just stay here and hope I feel better.”
“Good. And when you wake up, I’ll make the Arancini. Then tomorrow you can start a brand new life and in a few days you can start a new job.”
I closed my eyes as she chirped away about all the great things I truly wished would come true. A brand new life and a new job sounded exactly like what I needed.
SIX O’CLOCK Thursday came fast, but the closer my interview came, the more unsure of myself I felt. My ribs still killed, and the bruise on my cheek had turned a deep reddish-purple color. As I stared into Gemma’s bathroom mirror, at least I could be thankful that my face no longer looked like a Botox appointment gone horribly wrong.
Blowing my bangs off my face, I shook my head in disbelief that Gemma would ever find a way to make me look presentable. I looked mangy. That’s what I felt like too. Like a stray dog who’d been kicked too many times and just couldn’t believe life would ever be any better than it was right at that moment, bruises and all.
I heard her buzzing around in her room getting ready for her shift at Club X and couldn’t help but be infected by her enthusiasm. Gemma was like that. When she felt happy, she made everyone around her happy. I loved her for that, especially since it was her strength that had made leaving Aaron possible. Her singing, no matter how off key, made me smile, and looking in the mirror again, I saw something of that person I’d been before everything happened with Aaron.
God, how had I let myself get so torn apart?
“Hey, chickie, what do you think, black pants or blue? I like the black. Blondes always look great in black.”
I turned around to see her holding two pairs of dress pants up in front of me. Gemma leaned her head toward the black pair and rolled her eyes toward them. “I guess the black then since you’re doing the mind trick thing to get me to pick them. But wouldn’t a skirt be better?”
Her gaze traveled to my legs, and I looked down to see a huge black and blue mark on the inside of my left knee. I hadn’t realized Aaron had caught me there. Sheepishly, I looked away, too embarrassed to face her.
“Easily explainable, if you want to wear a skirt, Abbi. I mean, people trip over things every day. No biggie. I doubt anyone will even notice it.”
“No, you were right with the pants,” I said quietly as I took them from her hand. “What do you think I should wear on top?”
She began fussing with the back of my hair as she explained what she’d picked out for me to wear as a shirt. “On top, I think you need to let Kane see the blessings the good Lord has given you. I have an adorable little top that you’ll look great in. You get the pants on and I’ll be right back.”
I did as she said and stripped off the T-shirt she’d given me. Standing there in front of the mirror in just my bra, I looked down at the blessings the good Lord had given me, thankful they weren’t bruised too. I examined my arms to make sure Aaron hadn’t caught me anywhere with a wild punch, but somehow I’d been pretty much spared from the neck down, except for my ribs, my left hip that still ached, and that bruise on my leg.
Gemma came up behind me and held out the shirt for me to see. “Check it out! I admit I’m partial to green, but even I don’t look as great as you will in this pale green number. I love the bows on the shoulders too. So cute! You’re going to look fantastic in this.”
Slipping the top over my head, I straightened the bows over my bra straps and looked in the mirror. When she was right, she was right. The light green next to my pale blond hair looked great, and the shirt did just what I needed it to.
Smiling, I looked behind me at her in the mirror. “It’s great, Gemma. And best of all, it makes my boobs look great.”
She twirled the back of my hair again and rested her chin on my left shoulder to look into the mirror with me. “Your boobs look great all the time. This just makes them even better. Now how do the top and pants feel? You need to look confident in the interview, so I don’t want you having to fidget because you’re uncomfortable.”
“They feel great. I think if I wear my own shoes it’ll be okay, right?”
“I think so. They’re pretty nice and have that good platform heel action that we tiny girls need. Other than that, just remember to stress your time as a Storm cheerleader and knowing me and you’ll be fine.”
I nodded and wished I could feel as positive as she did. From the neck down, I looked great. From the neck up, well, that was an entirely different story. How we were ever going to cover up that horrible bruise just under my eye I had no idea.
Gemma must have been reading my mind because she set to work digging through her makeup bag on the back of the bathroom sink, pulling out tubes of concealer and every possible kind of cosmetics to make me look like a normal job applicant and not some girl who’d been used as a punching bag just a few days before.