Consumed (11 page)

I wake up feeling like shards of glass are poking at the back of my eyeballs. My head pounds relentlessly and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Alcohol.

Clubs.

Roofies.

I groan and silently make a vow never to drink again. I can almost hear my brain scoff at me. I’ve said it too many times for it to be reliable and now my own body doesn’t trust me.

I roll off my bed and straighten myself. I feel like shit. No, I feel worse than shit…what’s worse than shit? My brain hurts and I can’t be bothered answering my own damn question.

I pull my dressing gown off the back of the door and slip into it. Drowsily, I make my way to the kitchen. When I step into the lounge room Selena is passed out on my couch wearing a black t-shirt and matching sweat pants—they’re mine. What a surprise.

I open the cupboard and pull out a saucepan. I take a metal soup spoon from the drawer and I slowly trot over to Selena. I bang on the base of the saucepan, filling the room with glorious, headache inducing noise and she practically jumps out of her skin.

I tower over her and she blinks a few times to get her bearings. “What. The fuck, Olivia!” She shouts, covering her face with a pillow.

“Oh no you don’t.” My voice is hoarse and dry. I grab the pillow and pull it from her. “If I can’t sleep in then neit—”

I glance at the clock on my microwave.

4:00 P.M.

Shit.

Shit.

“Shit.” I gasp.

“What is it?” She groans, claiming her pillow back and turning away from me.

“I’ve missed work! Mason is going to kill me. I’m so fired.”

Ignoring my banging head and dry mouth, I sprint to my room and throw on some clean underwear. I can’t locate a proper bra so I opt for a sports one. On top of that, I throw a red tank top and a pair of yoga tights. I haven’t done the washing in a few days so I’m out of respectable work clothing. I have to go down there and explain to him what happened.

“Olivia!” Selena calls out to me from the lounge room, but I ignore it.

I pull my hair into a ponytail and decide to skip make-up all together. I pull a pair of socks on and run to the front door for a pair of joggers. I am so screwed. I’m going to have to ask him to dinner to get out of this one.

“Relax, Sporty Spice.” I don’t stop. I slip my feet into my shoes and begin to tie the laces. “I called Mason last night and told him what happened. He knows you’re not coming in today.”

I stop and look at Selena. She’s smiling lazily at me. “And you didn’t tell me sooner?”

“I tried to.”

I exhale, deeply. “He knows that I was drugged?”

She nods. “Well I had to tell him the truth otherwise he’ll think you drank too much and have no sense of responsibility—blah, blah, blah.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I head toward the kitchen. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” She pulls the pillow over her head as I scull back a bottle of cold water from the fridge.

“Oh, you’re not going back to sleep.” I state, putting the water back in the side door. “We’re going to the gym.”

“Have fun with that.”

Selena never goes to the gym. I don’t think she has the motivation to do anything that doesn’t require alcohol and boys. I pull the pillow off her and throw it to the other side of the room. She doesn’t budge so I pick up my saucepan and spoon and bang away. After a solid minute and a half of annoyingly loud clangs and bangs she climbs to her feet and knocks the saucepan from my hand. “Okay fine! Just let me pee.”

While she pees, I grab two breakfast bars from the cupboard and throw them into my gym bag. I pack an extra towel in case she wants to shower afterwards, as well.

When she comes back, she’s wearing a pair of huge sunglasses and the same clothes she slept in. “This will have to do because I cannot be bothered getting dressed.”

“It’s fine.”

I throw her a hair tie and she pulls her blonde hair into a messy bun on the top of her head and strands of her light hair frame her face. We leave the house and climb into the car. As we drive toward the gym I thank her for last night.

“That’s what friends do—look out for each other.” She shrugs.

“True. Sorry I ruined that thing between you and rich boy.”

She flicks her hand at me. “Nah, forget about it. I Googled him when we got home and his dad is the one with the money. Little douchebag coasts off his dad’s reputation.”

Ha! People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

“Says little miss
I own a law firm
.” I shoot back at her.

Her smile widens and she laughs loudly. “Shut up!”

***

The gym is buzzing with fitness freaks this afternoon and Selena wants to sit over in the boxing section to get a closer look at all the buff boys slamming each other. Thankfully, Seth isn’t there so I agree to it. She sits on a seat behind a spare bag and watches in enjoyment through her sunglasses.

“Hey, perve,” I laugh. “You’re here to work out, not ogle.”

She brings her knees up to her chest and leans back in her chair in a way that’s no doubt horrible for your spine. My back aches just looking at her sitting like that. “Incorrect.
You’re
here to work out. I’m here for support.”

The long, glass wall beside us takes up a good portion of this side of the gym. Inside are training rooms for mixed martial arts or yoga or anything else sports/class related. People in suits line the glass wall of the room next to Selena and I. I push myself onto the tips of my toes, curious to peek in. Usually, when the room is taken, the glass turns black preventing anyone from looking in. Today, the people using it didn’t seem to care that the glass was still see-through.

I pull hand wraps from my bag. I got them when I was sixteen. I used to take boxing classes when I was younger. Selena did too until she dropped out because she thought her biceps were getting bigger. I’ve been meaning to replace these wraps with newer ones, but I like how light these are and they came with a thumb loop and Velcro, making it easier to wrap. Selena helps me slide into a small pair of gloves. They’re tight, but I can feel the support around my wrist. I bend my knees slightly and slam my gloved fists into the bag. I count out even rhythms and numbers in my head. I love boxing. I haven’t done much of it over the past few years, even less now that Seth dominates this area, but it’s a nice release for me. Blade doesn’t like females boxing, apparently, there’s something emasculating and manly about it. Pfft.

“Olly?” I glance up to see Dad stepping out of the training room. He’s wearing a hooded jacket and a pair of black sweat pants—something I haven’t really seen him wear in a while.

“Good morning Mr. James.” Selena greets him, sliding her sunglasses onto the top of her head. She’s always referred to my dad as Mr. James even though they’ve known each other since I was in primary school.

“Hey Sel. How are ya? How’s ya dad?”

“I’m good and he’s great, thanks for asking.”

Dad turns his attention back to me. “I haven’t seen you box in a while.”

I glance down at the gloves. “Yeah, I felt like it this morning.”

“Come, I want to show you something.” He grabs me by the forearm and he pulls me toward the training room.

“Can’t you just tell me what you want to show me? I have a good imagination.” I say, knowing very well that Dad wants me to see something that has to do with Seth. Selena jumps out of her chair to follow closely behind us. A man with flawless dark skin steps out of the room, preventing us from entering. His eyes are a nice golden color with dark brown specks. They’re comforting. My eyes drop to the stopwatch that hangs around his neck and I realize he was here yesterday, too.

“Uh, Rick. I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s in a pretty foul mood this morning.” He says to Dad.

“It’s only my daughter, Darryl. He’ll be fine.”

Dad steps past Darryl, pulling me into the training room and I gasp out loud as I witness Seth drive his knee into his spar partner’s face. My hands immediately cover my mouth and my pulse kicks up a notch, sending dangerous levels of nausea through my stomach. Seth whips around to face me at the sound of my gasp. His eyes are as dark as volcanic glass and they startle me. I don’t like fighting—play, practice or otherwise and being in the presence of someone who does it for a living makes me uncomfortable. Thankfully, the spar partner has a face guard on and isn’t hurt too badly, but I still can’t bring my hands away from my face. The sparer—or victim, rather—climbs shakily to his feet and saunters to join the rest of them on the other side of the room.

“Awesome.” Selena whispers beside me.

Seth’s chest rises and falls rapidly. Under the lights, I see the sweat glisten on his body. He’s wearing a pair of shorts with the slits in the side and his hands are wrapped in white. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s soft gauze and surgical tape.

When I look away from Seth I notice everyone else in the room. There has to be at least twenty people in here. Twelve of them are in suits and lined against the wall taking notes and discussing things under their breath. One is the coach and the others are battered spar partners stretching out their wounds and groaning in the far corner. Had Seth hurt them all?

Of course he had.

Beside me, Dad is all giddy and excited, making me feel even more nauseous. I drop my hands to my sides as Dad looks at me. This is what he wanted to show me?

“You don’t look too well.” Dad says, chuckling at me. He knows exactly how I feel about fighting. Whenever he made me watch his MMA fights I’d sit next to him with my eyes squeezed tightly shut. I don’t know what it is, but every time flesh connects with flesh... I feel sick.

“If you think that’s bad, you should have seen her last night.” Selena laughs. I snap my head over my shoulder, shooting daggers in her direction, but she doesn’t seem to get the message. “She got roofied at Lux’s.”

Dad’s brows furrow. “What’s roofied?”

“It’s a—”

“An alcoholic beverage.” I interrupt quickly, cutting Selena off. “A strong one.”

Dad looks completely lost. “All that new age stuff is confusing. I remember walking into a bar when I was young and only having three choices. What’s wrong with a good old fashioned Jack Daniels?” He chuckles. “As long as you’re having fun and you’re careful, I don’t care how many roofies you drink.”

Selena snorts as she catches a laugh in her throat. I shake my head and she mouths her apology to me before turning and leaving the room. My gaze finds Seth’s face again and his eyes are glued to me. Heat spreads under my skin as I realize his stare is anything but playful.

“Dad, could you give me a minute with Seth?” I ask, quietly.

I have no idea what I’m doing or what I’m going to say, but I get the feeling if Seth doesn’t talk to me right now he’s going to flip out.

Dad nods curiously. “Okay...”

When my dad leaves, Seth orders his people out and soon it’s just me and him. As the door closes Seth storms over to me, each step he takes becomes more purposeful, more frustrated. I’m painfully aware people are watching through the clear glass and I feel like an animal in a zoo.

“Can we have more privacy?” I ask him before he reaches me and his large body moves over to the wall to flick the button. The sheet of glass darkens and we can see out at the people in the gym, but no one can see in.

No one can see us.

I swallow hard at the realization. He watches me from the wall and I can’t help but to stare back at him. Darryl said Seth is in a bad mood today and he isn’t wrong. My hands are sweating inside my gloves and I can’t wipe it away on my pants.

“You look sexy in a pair of gloves.” His voice is unbearably intimate, but his eyes are eerily dark. I don’t reply. I have absolutely no idea what to say to that. His chest is still moving quickly and I’m slightly worried. How hard are they working him?

“Are you alright?” He asks me.

I nod.

“Did anything... bad happen to you?”

Bad? Is he referring to something sexual because I was drugged? I shake my head. “No, Selena took me straight home and I passed out.”

His eyebrows rise and fall slightly in relief. Why does he care?

“If you had come to dinner with me it never would’ve happened.”

“That’s true, but I didn’t.”

His thick arms swing slightly as he makes his way over to me. My heart stops cold, and I feel clammy moisture beginning to spread across my palms as I keep my eyes glued to his approaching form. Each purposeful, frustrated step brings him closer to me until we’re pressed flush against each other. I have to force myself to breathe slowly as his rough hands slide into the nape on each side of my neck. He presses his forehead to mine and his head is damp with sweat, but I don’t care. He exhales through his nose, controlling his fast breathing and then lets me go. My head spins a little and I have to change my stance to bring it back into focus.

“One of my friends, from the steakhouse, saw Selena dragging you from the club. He said you were in pretty bad shape.” He tugs at the tape, un-wrapping it from his hand. “I was worried.”