Page 93 of Brutal
“Giulio called me Mimosa,” I say, mostly to change the subject. “Because you were Champagne.”
Irene doesn’t quite look at me. “He made some really disgusting comments about a sister act,” she mumbles.
I laugh bitterly. “Yeah, I heard that one.” I fumble with the blanket and bend forward, squeezing my eyes shut. “Irene, I want to hate you. You’re the reason I went through all that shit. But…” My voice cracks again, and all my blinking isn’t stopping my eyes from watering. “I think I need my sister right now.”
“Oh, Amber,” she breathes, and without hesitation, she gets close and throws her arms around me. “I understand how you could hate me, I really do. I hate myself for it, too, but I’m just so glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re finally safe. I love you, sis. No matter what. And I’ll do my best to take care of you.” She winces. “I don’t have much, but I’m at least not working for Giulio Pavone anymore.”
I rest my head against her shoulder and sob quietly, my shoulders shaking. “Good. Fuck him. Fuck all men. They’re all fucking pigs.”
Irene strokes my hair gently and nods. “They really are. Fuck.” She keeps me held close, squeezing me. “You’re staying, aren’t you?” she asks, sounding anxious. Fragile. Part of me wants to resent her for that when I’m the one who’s been through hell, but then… I don’t know what she’s gone through, either. “I only have the one room, but I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“We can share the bed,” I say. I wipe at my eyes. “But yeah. I’ll stay. It’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to go.”
Because, just as I’d expected, Drake had taken what could have been good and ripped it apart.
Breakfast is simple instant oatmeal, bland and boring. It’s comforting too, though, because this is what Irene and I used to eat every morning back when she was still caring for me.
“Sorry I don’t have anything more filling,” Irene says, probably for the third time.
“I’ll buy groceries later.” I finish the oatmeal and get up to do the dishes. “Do you work today? I can sort out the household and start job hunting while you’re gone.”
She nods. “I’ve got a shift starting at noon.” She pauses, then adds, “At a restaurant. I’m not doing… that anymore. And I promise, it’s not run by the mafia.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “At least, as far as I know.”
“Oh.” I turn the water off and stare at the sink, now half-filled. “Pavone let you out? Was that before or after?—”
I cut myself off. No. I don’t need to dwell on the past. She can’t change it; I can’t change it. Ultimately, the real people who caused all this shit are men like Giulio Pavone and… and…
Irene flinches. “You don’t have to do the dishes, you know.” But she’s stalling, and I pin her with a look until she goes on, “I honestly don’t know. One day, I was working at the shittiest strip club he owns, and the next, he said someone bought out my…” Her lips twist in distaste. “Contract.”
The spoon I’m holding splashes into the sink. “What? Bought? When?”
“About a week ago now. He gave me enough cash to catch up on rent, then kicked me out. I got the job waitressing right after,” she says.
A week ago.
I cling to the side of the counter and force myself to take deep breaths. “You don’t know who ‘bought’ you?”
Irene gets close to me, putting an arm around me. “Amber? What’s wrong? No, I don’t, but Elena — Giulio’s manager — told me it was final, that there were no strings attached. Somehow. She was really cagey about the whole thing.”
“I know Elena,” I snap. “But if it was a week ago…” I let out a mangled laugh. “Shit. Did he really? Did Drake really fucking buy you without even telling me?”
Confusion flits across her face. “Who?”
“Drake—” I stop myself before I reveal his last name. “He bought me. Used me. But I guess he started liking me, and tried to change, only yesterday he kicked me out, and…” I laugh again. “You know, I told him that doing a nice thing just to win approval wasn’t really nice at all. But he did this without even so much as hinting at it?”
Irene still looks perplexed, but she steps away from me. “I really don’t know,” she says apologetically. “But this… Drake? He bought you, but he let you go? That sounds like some real Beauty and the Beast shit right there.”
“Beast in personality, I guess, but he’d have an easy time getting women.” I stand straighter and go back to the dishes, this time washing them more forcefully. “Anyway, he was having a fit yesterday and kicked me out because he couldn’t deal with me not taking his attitude. So this is better. It’s definitely better. I don’t need to put up with him, and if he’s surrounded by people who hate him, that’s his own fucking fault, and…”
“Of course it’s better. If he bought you and—” She averts her eyes. “And did things to you, good fucking riddance. He bought you, Amber. You’re just lucky he kicked you out instead of doing worse.”
I’d expected him to. That was why I’d taken my shirt off. I figured I’d just get it over with, let him fuck his anger out while I zoned out and pretended I wasn’t heartbroken over him going back to his old self.
Only he hadn’t done that. He’d tossed me out instead.
I sigh and run wet fingers through my hair. “He probably kicked me out to stop himself from doing worse,” I say quietly. “Because he didn’t want to hurt me anymore.”
It’s clearer now. My heart still aches, my mind is still rebelling, but if I look at things closely, I can follow Drake’s less-than-rational line of thinking.