Wilde Velvet Read online

  “Are you stalking me Mr Wilde?” I say playfully. He laughs, but he doesn’t look embarrassed as he replies.

  “In your dreams, Ashley,” I can’t hold back my smile. My jaw is starting to hurt from my constant smiling. I must look silly. Grinning from ear to ear at everything he says. “If you must know I really like the food here.” he explains. I almost buy his answer. He scans the menu and then he turns to me.

  “What can I get for you?” I ask, managing to control my smile this time.

  “What would you suggest?” he says. I press my lips together.

  “I thought you liked the food here? So you should know what you like?” he laughs and blushes a little. I like that I make him blush. It makes a change from my constant burning cheeks.

  “I had steak the last time, but I’m not in the mood for steak tonight.”

  “Then what are you hungry for?” I say, not realising how sensual my question sounded. He smirks at me. I wait for his reply.

  “Estoy hambrienta por ti!” There he goes with the Spanish again. Man I wish I knew what he said. I should really write down everything he says in Spanish and Google it to see what he’s trying to say to me. But I am too cowardly for that. Deep down I don’t want to know. He could either be saying that he loves me, or that he hates me and wishes that I were out of his life. I am defeated by him.

  “What does that mean?” I ask. I instantly regret my question. I don’t want to know the answer any more than he wants to tell me.

  “It means something that I can’t say to you in English.” I panic, now I am desperate to know. No Ashley its better if you don’t know. My subconscious screams at me. I agree and focus back on the job at hand, taking his order.

  “The omelette is really good.” he cocks his head to one side, handing me the menu as he does.

  “That’s sounds perfect,”

  “Would you like something to drink with that?”

  “Beer,” I nod and excuse myself. I shake off the feeling of him as I head to the kitchen. I shout the order to the chef and then I grab a bottle of corona from the bar. I click open the bottle and I feel like swigging it down myself. He leaves a toxic taste in my mouth, a taste that I would love to wash away. Another couple leaves and now there’s only Jonathon and the family of four in the café. He’s texting on his phone as I make my way back over to him. He places the phone onto the table as he sees me coming. Those eyes consume me.

  “Here’s your drink. Your food shouldn’t be long. We aren’t exactly swamped as you can see.” I say looking around the empty café.

  “Thanks. Do you wanna… join me for dinner?” he blurts out. I am flattered and confused.

  “I can’t I’m working,” I say embarrassed. He rolls his eyes.

  “You said yourself that you aren’t busy.” he pleads. I want to say yes, but I can’t. It would be against my rules and it would make things a whole lot more complicated.

  “I can’t. Sorry.” he looks upset, hurt even. I feel bad, but I know it’s for the best. I excuse myself as I see Sal walking across the room. I run over to her. “Sal can I talk to you,” I ask. She looks tense, but she allows me my minute.

  “What’s bothering you Ashley?” she says staring at me. I take a deep breath.

  “I was wondering if there are any extra shifts going?” she laughs at me.

  “Look around sweetie; we aren’t exactly mobbed now are we?” she does have a point, but I need the extra money.

  “Please Sal, I need the money. My mom is getting married in few weeks and I can’t afford the flight home.” Sal looks compassionate.

  “Ashley you know that I would help you out if I could. We just aren’t getting enough business. I’m sorry. I but can’t offer you extra work.” I am confused.

  “But we had some really good nights last week,” she agrees, but I get the feeling that she means no when she says it.

  “One good night isn’t equal to seven bad ones. We just can’t afford to pay you double right now. I’m sorry.” My whole world has come crashing down. What am I going to do? “Maybe your mom can help you out?”

  “No I can’t ask her to do that. She works really hard for what she earns and she deserves to have her dream wedding. I can’t ask her for money, when I know how tight it is for her right now.” Sal pats my shoulder. I can tell that she feels for me. I know that she would help if she could. I understand. Times are tough and she and Kevin have two children to support. I feel bad that I even had the cheek to ask her for more money. She walks away from me. I run my fingers through the ends of my caramel coulouerd hair. What am I going to do? I hear the bell for Jonathans order. I compose myself and put my worries out of my head as I head over to the kitchen. I grab his food and I march over to his table. He looks edgy as I place the plate in front of him. He doesn’t look at the food, just at me.

  “What was that all about?” he asks in a concerned tone. I sigh and flop onto the seat opposite him. I rest my elbows on the table, and he reaches across and grabs onto my arms. I look up at him, with my heavy eyes. “What’s wrong?” he says soothingly.

  “Nothing,” I lie. I don’t want to bother him with my money worries. He doesn’t believe my answer so he pry’s some more.

  “I know you’re lying. I can tell when something’s bothering you.” I give in and tell him.

  “My mom is getting married in a few weeks in Dallas. The flights are really expensive, and my boss can’t offer me any more extra work. I’m broke and I have no idea what I’m gonna do. I can’t ask my mom for money. She doesn’t have any to spare, you know.” he sighs and looks sorry. He runs his fingers along my hand and he whispers.

  “Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll find a way.” I shake my head. He doesn’t understand. I should never have told him. I pull my hand away from him as he starts to eat his food. I force a smile and I excuse myself.

  I arrive home an hour or so later. I’m exhausted. I brush my teeth and head into my bed. I grab my phone and check the time. It’s nine thirty here, so its eleven thirty in Dallas. I was supposed to call my mom tonight and from what I can remember, she doesn’t go to bed early. I take the plunge and dial her number. The phone rings. I have put the speaker phone on. I am too tired to hold the phone to my ear. My mom answers me rather quickly. I hope that I haven’t woken her.

  “Ashley?” she says in a bright tone. Great she wasn’t sleeping.

  “Hey Mom,”

  “How are you sweetie, how’s your music going?”

  “Really good, I have a song.” she screams a high pitched squeal. Thank God for speaker phone. I would have gone deaf from her pitch.

  “That’s wonderful sweetie. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks Mom, enough about me, how have you been? And Pete is he good?”

  “We are both great, busy with all the wedding stuff, you know.”

  “Yeah about that,”

  “Ashley, have you thought about being my maid of honour?” Fuck, just the conversation I was dreading. What I am going to say?

  “Mom, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I was thinking that one of your friends would be more … suited to the role.” The phone is silent. I hope I haven’t hurt my moms’ feelings.

  “What do you mean, more suited?”

  “It’s just I’m not around and with everything that’s going on. I just feel like I wouldn’t be a very good maid of honour. You deserve to have the most perfect day, and you deserve to have a maid of honour, who is gonna be there to help you in a way that a maid of honour is supposed to.”

  “I’m really proud of you for the way you’ve changed your life. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that I have missed you so much that it hurts. If you feel that you don’t deserve to be my maid of honour, then take some time off, come home and help me plan my wedding.” her voice is shaky I know that she is choking back tears. I hate doing this. I hate that she makes me feel guilty for moving on.

  “Mom I can’t.”

  “Ashley, I know why yo
u’re holding back. It’s because of Brandon, isn’t it?”

  “Moving away from you was the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do. You know my reasons, and I hope you can understand how hard it’s gonna be for me to come back there.”

  “Of course I understand, but Brandon isn’t around anymore. He’s outta your life. Stop using him as an excuse.” her words are firm, almost hurtful. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I know she’s right. I do use Brandon as an excuse. But how can I not when he hurt me so badly.

  My mom and I talk for a bit and then we hang up. Saying our goodbyes and telling each other how much we love the other is heart wrenching. I really miss my mom. I am really anxious about going back to Dallas. It’s a negative city and I have terrible memories of living there. But my mom loves that city, and I could never miss her wedding. I just don’t know how I am going to get there. I have come so far and my mom is right, Brandon isn’t around anymore. He can no longer hurt me. It’s not entirely him that I am scared of. I am scared of myself. I am terrified that I will go back to being the girl that I used to be. I am scared that Dallas is going to relight that burning fire in me. I have come so far. I am not going to ruin what I have spent a year building. Going back to Dallas will be a test for me. It will either make me, or break me. I have to be brave and face my demons.

  The air in my room is hot, and the soft feather pillows feel really good against my cheek. I have images of Jonathon, and a terrifying one Brandon, rushing through my mind as I fall into a deep sleep.

  “Ashley, come here!” He shouts in his deep, southern accent. I immediately pull myself out of the car, and walk across the parking lot towards Brandon. Today is an important day for him. He has been working towards this Saturday evening for so long. Every minute of his time has been consumed by planning. This meeting –or drop off as I like to call it, needs to go off without a hitch. Nothing can go wrong. Brandon doesn’t have a run-of-the-mill job. He dabbles in a lot of things. Not all of them good. When I first met Brandon, he worked for a guy called, Jacob. I don’t know how to describe him. I guess if you think ‘Goodfellas or The godfather’ then you know exactly what kind of guy Jacob is. Brandon broke away from him and started out on his own. Now Brandon is the leader and Jacob works for him. It was a long and tough rise to the top for Brandon. He had to do thing’s Jacob’s way for a while. That included robberies, club raids, muggings and drug dealing. I wasn’t around for that period of his life. I just came into the picture once he rose to the top of the gang-leader ladder. I never witnessed the things that he used to get up to. I know they were very real, but something inside of me ignored them because of the way I feel about him. Brandon is everything that I ever wanted and on paper he is perfect, but I wish that our relationship were perfect. Perfect is something that he and I will never have. How can I describe our relationship? That’s such a tough question. I close my eyes and I remember the first time I saw him. He was amazing. It was love at first sight. It wasn’t just me that felt it. Brandon tells me every day that in that first moment that our eyes meet across the bar, that he knew that he wanted me. He swept me off of my feet. He took me to all the best restaurants. He treated me like a princess and bought me everything that I desired. He had illegal money to burn, and I had no worries in burning it for him. I had everything, from the latest ‘Birkin’ to driving his ‘Escalade’. I was never used to being treated this way and it seduced me. I didn’t mind that Brandon was going out and selling drugs or robbing old ladies, so that we could have a luxurious lifestyle. But the perks had their downfall. Brandon wasn’t the guy that I thought he was. He was aggressive. I saw him beating on one of his workers. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and then I started to be the focus of his aggression. He started to beat me, the way he would a punch bag. I have had bruises on every part of my body. I have scars and not just physical ones. He mentally tortured me. He made me feel small and worthless. I was his possession, one that he was free to do whatever the hell he wanted with. I accepted his abuse, I was submissive. I felt that it was karma, you know. I didn’t bat an eyelid at what awful things he was doing. I ignored it and cashed in on the perks. I am a terrible person, I know that. I can never be forgiven for the role I played in so many tragedies. I know it’s a pathetic excuse, but I put what I did, down to loving him. With every beating, there would be the soothing moment after it. He would get me a drink, scotch or vodka. He would sit me down, force me to drink and then he would pull me into his arms. I would be crying and terrified of his acid touch. He would gently stroke my hair and tell me that he was sorry and that it would never happen again. His dark eyes consumed me and I was in love with him. I believed him. I let myself forgive him. I believed his lies, every time they passed from his dangerous lips. I gave myself to him in every way possible. I was under his control. He made me believe that my family and friends were out to get us. That if they knew what he did, they wouldn’t understand. He claimed that they would rat on him and that I would be brought down with him. The only friends I have are the other girlfriends of Brandon’s colleagues. They are treated the same way as I am. Battered and then paid off with expensive gifts. This isn’t a life, it’s a living hell.

  I have no relationship with my mom. We haven’t spoken in four months. It’s awful. I hate being away from my family, but I know that there’s no other way. I can’t be around my mom, Brandon would never allow it. The thought of what he would do if he caught me even thinking about seeing my mom, is unthinkable. My mom and my friends have tried to make me see sense. They didn’t know the extent of my relationship with Brandon, but they aren’t stupid. They know what’s going on, when they see me with a black eye and bruises on my arms. They would never say what they thought; I guess it was too tough. They uttered subtle messages, telling me that Brandon was wrong for me. I didn’t pay attention. I ignored their pleas. In the end, it was easier for me to stay away from them. If I didn’t see them, then I wouldn’t have to face their questions or opinions.

  My life is a mess, I am broken and I’m in love with a thug. How can I break free of him?

  I walk across the lot. He has a bulky guy at each side of him. He looks tense, furious even. I reach him. He turns to me, nostrils flared and hands shaking.

  “What is wrong with you? I asked you to stay in the car.” I sigh. Here he goes.

  “Baby, you asked me to come over.” he screams and lunges towards me. He grabs onto my shirt, clasping a fistful of my skin. It hurts. Tears are welling in my eyes from the sting. I feel helpless. I am pathetic.

  “Don’t talk down to me, don’t you ever talk down to me. You’re just my bitch, nothing more.” he screams, eyes raging, lips quivering. I am terrified of him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in a broken voice. He laughs at me. He loves to see me helpless. It spurs him on. I hate him right now.

  “Now give me your phone and get back into the car.” I nod and pull my phone out of my designer jeans. He grabs the phone out of my hand. He scratches my skin and blood starts to trickle from a long scratch. I look at him and he sniggers. He releases me with a firm push away from him. He turns back to his associates, and I slowly make my way back over to his car. I open the door and slide into the passenger seat of the luxury ‘Escalade’. It’s cold tonight and I start to shake from the temperature. I want to start the engine and blow the hot air onto my cold face, but I can’t. That sort of behaviour wouldn’t be acceptable and Brandon is already in a foul mood. Now that I have the chance to think about it, he looks really tense. He hasn’t told me the full details of tonight’s drop- off, but he isn’t usually the drop-off guy. He has minions to do that sort of thing for him. Tonight must be high priority. I never stopped to think about his business, not tonight at least. I have so much weighing on my mind. I know that I don’t want this anymore. I love him, but I don’t want him. I don’t want to stay in this life. I want to change. I want to break free of him. I want to be … me again. I just don’t know how to leave him. He would never let me. He would follo
w me wherever I went. He would torture me and my family. He would make what life I have left, a living nightmare. I have messed up, I know that. I can never be forgiven for my sins. I lie awake at night, in his king-size bed praying for a way out. I tell God that I am sorry for ignoring Brandon’s behaviour, and sending my thoughts and prayers out to every one of his victims. I don’t know what to do. I wish that God would hear my prayers and answer just one of them.

  “Mom, please let me in!” I scream, battering down the door. Tonight didn’t go as planned; in fact it went just about as horrible as it could have. Brandon’s deal went sour. The cops came and I have no idea what happened to him. I am guessing that he’s been arrested. I did nothing to help him. I saw the flashing lights. I knew they were coming for us. I left before they reached us. I don’t know what came over me. Something sparked fury inside of me, and I knew that if I ever wanted to break free from Brandon, then that moment was my only chance. I took it and now I don’t know what to do. I am guessing that I need to leave town. Living in Dallas isn’t an option any more.

  “Ashley, sweetie you’re shaking. What’s happened?” I leap into my moms’ arms. I start to sob. She pulls me into the house. She escorts me into the living room. I haven’t been in this house in what seems like a lifetime. I scan the room, through my tear soaked eyes. The house looks the same as it always did. The same old sofa is centre stage. The flower print curtains are the same, the same old cushions and ornaments finish off the room. There is one change. A flat screen has replaced the old, chunky TV set. I sob again. I have missed this house. I have missed my mom. “Hunnie, please tell me what’s wrong?” My mom pleads.