Page 53 of Playing Pretend

“I know.” Exhale.

My Mother and I stayed quiet for a few minutes, and then I gathered enough courage to do what I should have done two months earlier.

“I need your help, Mom. Tell me what to do.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sweetheart. You have to get yourself out of this.”

I shut my eyes, and lifted my face up to the sky long enough to feel the warm, sunny rays warm my eyelids.

“I don’t know how.”

“You do,” said my Mother. “But you have to decide if you’re willing to do what it is necessary versus what you think you want.”

I chewed on that for a moment, and came to the undeniable realization that my Mother knew me a little better than she’d ever let on. She’d also given me something to think about.

“I wish it was that easy,” I replied honestly.

“Caring about someone never is, but sometimes you have to care about yourself more.”

Wasn’t that the truth.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I wish you’d spoken to me sooner. Are you going to be okay?”

I wasn’t entirely sure, but with Caleb away I had time to get myself there and come up with some kind of plan, however temporary.

“I will be,” I promised. “You don’t have to worry.”

My Mother snorted. “I always worry about you, Kadence. I love you. It’s my job to worry.”

“I love you too.”

We spoke for a few minutes longer, and when I said goodbye, I felt a little more like myself, and less like a ten-dollar hooker who screwed her boss. Which reminded me of the money Caleb had left in my bedside drawer. Curiosity, that disgusting little bastard, made me wonder how much he thought our night together was worth. I wanted to pull out all those bills and count it, but eventually decided against it. Call it self-preservation, but I had no desire to really know what Caleb thought I was worth.

I SPENT THE REMAINDER of my day roaming the streets of the city, and treated myself to lunch in Bryant Park. I took a slow walk up 5th Avenue, through Rockefeller Center, past Radio City Music Hall and then circled back before catching a cab back to Caleb’s penthouse. It was well after 8p.m. and after tiring myself out, I was ready for a hot bath, a hot new romance novel and bed. My plans, however, were derailed the moment I stepped out of the elevator where I was greeted by the sight of a frantic-looking Aaliyah. Dressed in distressed jeans, stiletto heels and a black cap-sleeved blouse, she looked as though she’d come from a date.

Her heels clicked as she paced the floor, talking into her phone, and the moment she caught sight of me, her expression broke into one of pure relief.

“It’s okay,” she said into the phone. “She just walked in.”

I frowned, wondering who she was talking to.

“Okay,” she sighed, rolling her brown eyes. “Calm down, Caleb.”

Never mind.

I no longer cared about who she was talking to.

Hecould go deep throat a cactus.

Bastard.

With a fractious shake of my head, I walked past her, and went in the direction of the guest bedroom.

“Uhhh…” she muttered from behind me. “Yes, she looks fine. Not a bruise or a scratch that I can see.”

Caleb’s concern only fueled my ire. He had no right to show concern after how he’d treated me earlier that morning.