“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you never answered my question a few weeks ago.” Collins tossed back his drink without so much as a cough. “Are you seeing someone? Have a boyfriend that you’re hiding?”
I had ignored the question because I didn’t know why he was asking it. Whether it was his own prurient interest, or because he believed women should be virgins until marriage, or even because he wanted to set me up, I’d wanted none of it.
I’d broken up with my last boyfriend, Christopher Sullivan, right before we’d graduated. Chris and I had gone our separate ways. He and I had promised to move to Boston together, but he’d changed his mind at the last minute leaving me jobless, homeless, and brokenhearted. Over the weekends in Baton Rouge, the attention I’d received from guys had given me confidence in at least one area, that I was attractive enough. Those were not facts I wanted to relive or share.
“There’s nowhere to hide anything in this studio,” I deflected. “What you see is what you get.”
“Can I get what I see?” Seth’s pulpit smooth voice had been replaced with something that bordered on seductive.
I blinked.
He had a wife. Everyone knew that. Rosalee had come through the offices more than a few times. There was even talk of giving her a small office next to Seth’s for her new “First Lady” of New Day activities and obligations. I might not be a saint, but I did not mess with other women’s husbands or my boss or anyone who my family would be embarrassed to see me dating. It’s why I kept my weekend escapades to myself.
“What are you asking?” It was the first time I’d spoken plainly. Six months of subtle hints and beating around the bush had gotten me nowhere. Not that he’d ever made a pass or sexually harassed me. He was skilled with his words and everything had been far more subtle than a cartoon villain.
“Do I have to spell it out for you, Kiki, Nicky Mouse? Can I call you one of those?”
“It’s Nicole. I…” I trailed off. This part of relating to men never got any easier. They almost always wanted something I was unwilling to give. I tried to figure out the nicest and most oblique way to shut it down. Direct sometimes worked. But direct could get you at best, cursed at, yelled at, slut-shamed. At worst, assaulted.
Men and their capacity for violence was a crapshoot. A bit likes a Forrest Gump box of chocolates, you never knew what you were going to get. Something in my gut said that while Collins claimed to like straight shooters, demanded it, in fact from his staff, he wasn’t ready to hear my honest answer.
“Yes, Nicole,” he parroted.
“I’m super tired.” More deflection.
“How do you like that bed?” Collins pointed toward the purple sugar skull comforter—one of the few things I’d brought from home when it became clear I wasn’t ever going back. “Comfortable?” His voice pitched lower the longer he continued to speak. “We bought everything in bulk, so I never got to test out the mattresses.”
“A unit just opened up,” I said, though it was likely he was already aware. He had an eerily detailed knowledge of everything that happened at New Day, no matter how small. I gestured vaguely outside my own studio. “That pregnant girl downstairs had her baby. Moved in with her aunt in Florida, I heard. You should visit that apartment.”
“I don’t want to visit that one.” His voice was so whisper quiet that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he said. But his tone caused shivers of fear to run up my spine nonetheless.
Seth Collins stood, hefted his drink, and walked across the room. A place that had felt spacious for one was suddenly claustrophobic for two.
“What was that music you were playing earlier?” His voice was casual. Too casual. He had a wife, even a couple of picture-perfect, cherubic-faced kids that I’d seen walking through church one Sunday. I wanted him to think about them and not me.
“What did your family do today?” I asked, but then I rushed on before he could answer. “Aren’t they missing you? I’ve got everything covered workwise. Why don’t you get dessert with them? What’s your favorite? Apple pie? Pumpkin pie? Pecan pie? My dad’s favorite this time of year is candied pecans. Aubrey makes them sweet and spicy. He can’t get enough of that nut. Not my favorite by any stretch, though.” My voice petered out. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before Collins spoke.
“Speaking of nuts…”
Deflection and politeness were getting me nowhere.
“Seth, I’m trying not to be rude here, but I’m tired,” I said plainly. “The drive was long in the rain and fog. My niece and nephew gave me a headache. They’re lovely, don’t get me wrong, but they’re toddlers without volume control. Anyway, I just want to take a bath, read for a few minutes, and put myself to sleep before spending the day dialing television stations. So if you don’t mind…”
My hint couldn’t have been any bigger. I wasn’t beating around the bush any longer.
“I love a woman with Southern charm.” He tossed back the rest of the amber liquid. Lonely ice cubes clinked against the side of the glass. He put the drink down on the coffee table. Stood. Stretched. Adjusted his tie. Looked ready to give me some much-needed alone time. “You can do all those things now. Sorry to impose.”
I nearly groaned in relief. Maybe my gut feeling had been misplaced nerves about something else. My compass could have been the wrong way round. Collins was just a workaholic and maybe a control freak. Without my father around, he was inserting himself into every damned decision about New Day. He was no different than any of the young micromanaging bosses that my college friends complained about. Collins’ only difference was that he quoted the Bible more often.
“Thanks for your consideration.” Years of charm school made my smile almost genuine.
I stood and went to the little bathroom. The tea lights were still flickering. The tiny candles didn’t last long, though. I hoped they’d make it through the bath. I took my own umbrella from the bathtub and stood it in a corner of the bathroom. Then I hefted Collins’ out. Shook the rain out the best I could. Wrapped the slippery nylon band around the flaps. I heard his footsteps come from the front part of the studio toward the door. I stepped out of the small room.
“Here you go.” I thrust the umbrella toward him, creating a space between us as long as my right arm. “See you tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Collins grabbed it into his fist. Tilted the wood handle toward me in a goodbye gesture, then opened my door and walked into the hallway. I pushed the door closed behind him. Turned the deadbolt. When I could no longer hear his footsteps, I slipped off my clothes right there by the door. Didn’t bother to put some things in the hamper or hang others in the closet. When I paid my dry-cleaning bill, I’d regret this moment, but that was for later.
Naked, I sat on the edge of the tub, my bum cold on the white surface, while I waited for it to fill. Tried to reconcile my study of religion with the practice.
Belief was one thing.
Business was another.
Before the bath overflowed, I ran back to the coffee table, poured myself more of the amber alcohol hoping it truly provided the same relaxation I’d seen in the ads at the distillery.
A little buzzed, I was drunk careful so I set the glass on the flat edge of the tub, turned off the water, and slipped under the blanket of lavender-scented bubbles. The relief I’d been wishing for most of the holiday washed over me.
At last.
The sound of the rain was absent in this windowless room. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Whether it was for ten seconds or ten minutes, I couldn’t figure out because the next sound I heard was so unexpected that I bolted upright and sloshed water over the edge. The wave took the glass of alcohol with it. It hit the floor and brown liquid mixed with the soap bubbles. Shards of glass went everywhere.
“Let me help you, Nicole,” Collins said.
I sat up even further when the cold hit me. As quick as I could muster shame, I crossed my arms over my breasts.
I hadn’t been wrong. A key had turned in my lock.
“What…what are you doing?” I tried to sink down and cover myself with what was left of the bubbles.
“I forgot something, I think,” Seth said. “Let myself in with the pass keys. Heard the commotion.”
I tried to think what he’d brought in with him besides the golf umbrella. Nothing came to mind other than the sudden chill I felt and discomfort at being naked in the same room as my married boss. New Day may be modern and hip by church standards, but naked girls with married men wasn’t something anyone would excuse.
“If you just give me a minute,” I sputtered. “Hand me my ro—”
Before I could finish my request, Collins’ arms had snaked behind me. One across my back and under my armpits, the other under my knees. Without any apparent effort, he lifted me out. I banded the arm across my breasts again to hide my exposure. With the other hand I splayed it to cover the juncture of my thighs. His loafers crunched on the glass.
Collins carried me to the bed. I hoped he was going to drop me there, run back, and get a towel. The bed part happened, but not the next.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. He laid me down like I was made of glass. But he looked at me like I was made of flesh. His hand smoothed my hair from the side of my face. “I was going to go home. Eat a second slice of pecan pie like you suggested. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. How sexy you’d be in the bath.” He circled my wrist with one hand. The grip was viselike.
“Seth…please,” I pleaded, not sure what I was asking for, but hoping I’d get it.
“Please. That’s the word I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Please.”
Every ounce of propriety and politeness left me after his distorted imitation of my words of supplication.
“No. Not please. No. I just want to sleep, Seth. Go home before you do something you regret.”
He made no move to go back through the door he’d let himself in.
“Let me dip the crane into your oil well. I know that’s what you’re begging for. Look at your body, hon. Four hundred years ago, you all arrived on our shores and men were lost. Women like you were made for sin. I’ll be a saint on Sunday. Tonight I want to be a sinner.”
“Please…don’t do this,” I begged. He was a man of words. Maybe he’d be swayed by mine. My heels dug into the jeweled eye sockets of the skull on my bed. I tried hard to push away from him.
He shook his head very slowly.
“Africa brought us temptation. My flesh is weak. That’s Matthew twenty-six, forty-one,” he appended as if I needed the source.
“Matthew…” That was the last word I got out before Collins’ mouth was on mine. Bourbon and something else was on the tongue that he pushed deep into my mouth. I couldn’t look at him.
My eyes flicked up. The ceiling wasn’t quite white.
Then they flicked sideways. There was a crack by the window I’d never seen.
Seth’s fingers tunneled into my hair, then fisted tight. Pain pricked my scalp. His eyes glazed over with what I assumed was lust. I squeezed my own tight, then went as deep inside my own mind as I could.
“I love these tits,” I heard him say before I gasped when he pinched my left breast—hard. “Your nips are dark. You definitely have a more than a little bit of the Creole in you after all.”
My eyes opened, focused for a second when I heard his buckle, when he pushed my legs apart, when there was pain inside me like a burn. He pulled out and pushed inside even harder, again, and again, and again.
Then all I could see was the pattern on the ruched curtains. There were ten vertical seams, which means there had to be eleven panels. I’d always gotten straight A's in math.
Collins yelled and grunted at the same time. I could feel his wet penis rub against the inside of my thigh as he pulled out. He blew out a breath and rolled off me on the side toward the wall. I closed my thighs tight, swung them over the side of the bed, pushed my hands against the coverlet, then stood.
When Collins made no move to stop me, I ran to the bathroom. Slammed the door only moments before Thanksgiving dinner came up into the white ceramic toilet bowl. I retched, then flushed three times. My throat was on fire, but my stomach was empty.
I pulled the drain plug, then got in the bath standing up. Wrapped the white curtain around the tub, then turned on the shower. Hot water blasted out. I didn’t turn on the cold tap. I stood there, scalded, waiting until the hot water ran out. When I got chilled, I stepped out. Pulled my robe from the hook on the back of the door. I pressed my ear against the thin wood. Listened. There was nothing but the absence of sound.
The rain must have stopped. I didn’t know what to do next, so I put down the lid and sat on the toilet seat and waited and waited until I couldn’t wait anymore.
Finally, I tiptoed toward the door and pulled it open. I poked my head around the jamb. It was still silent. I took a step, then a flash of pain like fire seared up my leg. I lifted my foot. Blood was dripping from a jagged cut near my heel.
I’d forgotten about the glass. The one I’d broken when Seth had come back into the apartment. The floor went from white to pink to red and yet, I couldn’t move.