Emerald (Steele Investigations) (10 page)

Chapter 8

“I can’t,” I choke out.  Tears well in my eyes and threaten
to spill over.  The irony is not lost on me that I have finally found someone
who is willing to share my load, but I can’t share at the risk of his life.

“You tell me.  I’ll decide whether it’s a threat to me.  If
it is – I’ll back off and let you do this your way.”

Okay. That sounds fair.  He’ll definitely see it’s a
threat, he won’t say anything to anyone and he’ll be safe.

“Okay.  Only if you promise that when I tell you and you
do
realize it’s dangerous to you, you have to keep it to yourself.  It’s very
important that you don’t tell anyone.”  I plead as the tears stream down my
face.

“Okay, baby.  I’ll give you that.  Stop crying, Jemma,
babe.”

I give a very unladylike sniffle, wipe my cheeks with the
back of my hand and under my eyes using my thumbs.  Then I tell him my story. 
Well, part of it.  I can’t tell him all of it.  It doesn’t matter anyhow
because I know once I tell him, he’ll leave.  He won’t want anything to do with
me.  But, the part I will tell him isn’t even the worst.

I don’t look him in the eye because I don’t want to see
disgust, rejection or repulsion in their emerald depths.  I keep my eyes
trained on my knotted fingers in my lap.  My voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m an only child.  Growing up I live with both my parents
in a small house outside Austin, Texas and we were poor.  My mother spent most
her days locked in her bedroom, only venturing out on the days she knew my
father would be home for dinner.  We never had much money, so food was a
novelty.  My mother only cooked on nights my father would be home.  If he
didn’t have a plate of meat and vegetables sitting on the table when he walked
through the door, he’d take it out on her with his fists.

I can’t remember how old I was the first time he came into
my bedroom at night but I remember he came in every time he was home.  He
explained to me that if I wanted a happy daddy then I would have to touch him,
and let him touch me.  He drummed it into me that if I ever told anyone about
our ‘special times’, he would bring my friends over and do it to them.  Hence
why I never had a friend until I met Rae, Tom and Kami.  He would also make
lewd comments as I got older, but I was confused as to what he meant, so I did
my best not to dwell on them.

When I was sixteen, my father came home one night and told
me that he had a special surprise for me and that we had to go for a drive in
the car.  I was excited because driving in the car was a novelty.  I very
rarely got to go in my dad’s car, and it was a nice car – shiny, new, black,
sleek.  Anyways, he took me to a nondescript house.  I can’t really remember
what it looks like on the outside, or the inside to be honest.  A man met us at
the door.  He was big, like tall, and his eyes scared me-,” I pause as a shiver
runs through my body and I swallow hard at the memory, “-my dad said he was
leaving me to the expertise of Bert.  Then he said something which confused me
even more at the time, he said, make sure he gets his monies worth, Pony.  So
my dad left and Bert led me in his house, straight into the bedroom and … he …
uh … took … he took my virginity over and over and over.”  I hear Travis’s
breathing get louder and I feel the tension, thick in the air, but I don’t pay
attention - I keep on, the words coming out of me like verbal vomit.

“My dad picked me up the next morning and I could hardly
walk.  I was in so much pain. 
Jeez, the pain.
  My dad was so excited. 
He kept telling me how proud he was of me and how much money I was going to
make him.  I didn’t even comprehend what was going on.  We got back to our
house and my dad took off before I even cleared the front gate.”  I shake my
head at his carelessness.

“I went inside and my mother was there, waiting.  “You have
to go,” she told me.  “I’m sorry, Jemma.  So sorry.  Here’s some money and
plane ticket.  Take it and go to this woman; she showed me the piece of paper
in her hand.  “Get some stuff and go now, Jemma.  Now.”  So I gathered some of
my belongings and left.  The woman on the piece of paper gave me a job.  She
was so lovely to me.  I’d been working for her for about a month when my father
paid me a visit.  He told me that if I wasn’t going to earn money working for
him, that I would have to pay him.  So I send him a large amount of money every
month.  I was late this last month by a week, so he paid me a visit and made it
clear that I should be on time with my dues.”

I finish my story and my stomach is in tightly coiled
knots.  I feel sick.  I feel like I’m going to vomit.  I can’t look him in the
eye.  I don’t want to see repugnance staring back at me. 
Oh, god.

Finally he speaks.  His voice carefully control but the room
is thick with something – anger?  Disgust?  Abhorrence?  I don’t know.

“Shit, Jemma. 
Fuck! 
Your father
sold
your
virginity. 
Fuck.”

I don’t know what to say.  I can’t say anything.  There are
no words to describe how filthy I am or the filth I come from.

“How,” he pauses as if to rein in his temper, “How do you
think this puts
me
in danger?”

“Because if he finds out you know, he will hurt you,” I
whisper.

“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” he snarls.

“Travis, please. 
Please. 
You said you would leave
it if you were in danger, and you are, so you need to leave it.”  I grab both
is hands in mine and finally look into his, not caring if I see what he thinks
of me; I just need him to be safe.

“No fuckin’ way, Jemma.  No. Fucking. Way.”

“How much do you pay that piece ‘a shit every month?”

“A thousand dollars,” I whisper

“A
thousand
fucking dollars.  Fuckin’ hell, Jemma.”
He spits.

“It’s either that or the alternative, Travis.  So if I’ve
got to go without heating or cooling my place, if I’ve got to catch the bus or
walk everywhere – so what?  It makes it worth it because I’m not working
for
him.  Don’t sit there and fucking judge me.  It’s my life and I didn’t want to
include you in the sordid details of it. 
You
should have just left it
alone.”  My tone is snappy and towards the end I’m shrieking.

“I’m not fuckin’ judgin’ you, Jemma.  I’m trying to understand
why you pay that worthless motherfucka any ‘a your money.  You don’t owe him
shit,” he snaps back.

“Look, your mine now, Jemma.  I take care of what’s mine. 
That means I’ll be takin’ care ‘a you.  Your father is a weak piece of fuckin’
shit and I can assure you I’m in no danger.  Now, neither are you.”  His voice
softens and I close and reopen my eyes.  Looking into his, I don’t see disgust
or revulsion.  I see warm, caring emerald pools filled with steely
determination.

“Come here,” he whispers.

Immediately, my body leans into his open arms.  He embraces
me tightly, burying his face in my neck.  My arms wind around his waist and I
relax into his body.  I feel safe.  Lighter.  The knots in belly unfurl and I
feel …
peaceful
.

“I’m sorry you went through all that, babe,” Travis shocks
me by quietly talking in my ear.

“It’s okay.  I’ve had a lot of therapy and counseling, both
at independent offices and rape crisis centers.  I’ve dealt with it and I know
what was done to me was in no way my fault.  The rape crisis center always made
sure I knew that sex between two consenting people was wonderful and that I
shouldn’t let this experience put me off should I find someone in the future.” 
I give him a small smile as my face flushes what I’m sure is  a very unattractive
shade of beet red.  Me and my loose lips.  I cannot believe I just shared
that.  After going my whole life sharing nothing, I go ahead and share
that
little tidbit.  Well, shit.

“He’d be a lucky guy,” he says giving me smug smile.

“Yeah, he will be.  When I find him of course,” I add,
giving him a cheeky grin.  I’m thankful the mood has lightened. 

“Think you’ve already found him, babe,” he whispers, leaning
into to touch his lips to mine.  Gently, softly.

“You think,” I whisper.  Mainly because I feel like I should
say something but I’m entering a Travis Trance at lightning speed and I can’t
think straight.

He continues to kiss me gently, sweetly.  Never deepening
the kiss, but not breaking it either.  I melt into him and take all he’s
giving, hoping that I’m giving as much as I’m getting.  Almost imperceptibly, I
feel the fire of desire start to warm my blood.  Shifting my legs, I feel how
moist my panties are a dull ache starts to develop.  My nipples pucker and
strain against the satin of my bra.  I push harder into Travis hoping he’ll get
the idea that I want more.  He doesn’t.

It’s like a bucket of ice water is dumped on my head when he
pulls back. 
How could I be so stupid?  I’ve just told him how fucking
filthy I am.  Why on Earth would I think he wants to sleep with someone as
damaged as me?
  Humiliation rips through my body as I blink back tears.

“I’m sorry, Travis.  That was totally uncalled for.  I don’t
know what came over me,” I squeeze my words out past the golf ball sized lump
that has taken up residence in my throat.

“Hey,” he coos, “Jemma, babe, look at me.”  I look up into
his liquid gaze, no sign of the regret I thought I would find.  “I want you,
babe.  Trust me, I do.  But not today.  Not tonight.  You laid some heavy shit
down today, and I’m not gonna take advantage of your emotions and shit.  You’re
mine, Jemma.  Right now, I just wanna relax and cuddle my woman so she knows
that nothin’ is gonna hurt her anymore.  Then later, I wanna take her to my bed
and wrap my arms around her tight.  I wanna wake up next to her in the morning,
grab some breakfast and see where tomorrow takes us.  Sound good?”  He kisses
the tip of my nose and gives me a heart stopping smile.

Hell yeah, that sounds good
.  Well, well.  What do
you know?  Selfish Jemma has returned from sea, looking all tanned and wind
swept.  She smiles brightly at me, so I give her a menacing scowl in return.

“Okay,” I breathe, giving a small smile as my heart stutters
at his sweetness.

“Right, you wanna pick a movie?  I’ll go and get us some
popcorn.”

******

In my dream I’m warm.  Too warm. 
I stretch out to the side, hoping to feel cool air.  I can’t figure out why I’m
hot.  My eyelids flutter open and I panic.  Bolting upright, my eyes dart
around the room.  My heart pounds hard with fear. 
Travis.
  Looking down
beside me in the massive King bed I’m in, I see Travis.  Or, more correctly, I
see Travis’s beautiful face – relaxed by sleep, his jaw with that five o’clock
shadow I swear has been tattooed on, his bare, sculpted chest – complete with a
sprinkling of hair and two perfectly round man-nipples. 
Lordy. 
My
heart begins to slow as I realize I’m in Travis’s bed (heart stutter –
with
Travis
) and him being pressed up against me was the reason for my body heat
overload.  I remember we watched Step Brothers on DVD, then Travis ordered us
Chinese Takeout from Wing Lin.  We ate that and settled in to watch 21 Jump
St.  I must have fallen asleep towards the end because I definitely don’t
remember walking to bed.  Which means Travis must have carried me.  My insides
clench automatically at the thought of being cradled in those muscular arms.  A
thought occurs to me - for the first time in as long as I can remember, I slept
the whole night through.   Like a log.  No dreams or nightmares waking me.  No
sudden anxiety attack onsets jolting me from my sleep.  Nothing but a solid
good nights slumber.  I like the fact that even in sleep, Travis makes me feel
protected.  I like that he can make me feel that safe when I’m not even
conscious.  I like it
a lot
.  I'm just not sure I like how much I like
it.

I sit admiring for the view of all
that is Travis Steele until I can no longer ignore the pressing need to use the
bathroom.  I slide my legs as slowly and quietly as possible, so as not to wake
him, out from the covers and turn my bottom so I’m sitting on the edge of the
bed.  Just as I’m about to stand, I feel his hand snake around my waist.

“Where y’goin’?”  He asks, his
voice husky from sleep.

“Uh,”
Crap
.  I can’t tell
him I’m going to the bathroom.

Don’t be ridiculous, Jemma.  Everyone
has to go to the bathroom.  He’s not going to say anything.  Jeez!
  Selfish
Jemma has awoken, stretching out on her Sealy Posturepedic Queen bed, her satin
and lace night gown rides up her thigh and she looks as though she’s had more
than her fair share of forty winks.

For once I have to agree with
her.  Take a deep breath and say you’re going to the bathroom.  The hardest
part is taking that first step.  You can do this, Jemma.  You can.
Rational
Jemma looks refreshed from a comfortable nights’ sleep, though she looks a
little pissed that she had to agree with little miss Selfish.

“Jemma,” he murmurs and my gaze
lifts to meet his, “you’re safe here.  Don’t matter where we are – your place,
mine, the boutique, my office, fuck, even walkin’ down the street,  when you’re
with me you’re safe.  You. Are. Safe.  Safe to say what you want, do what you
want, be who are. 
I’m
your safe place, baby.”

Oh.

My.

God.

I take a big deep breath in, filling my lungs with courage. 
I can do this.  It’s natural.  My father isn’t here to know that I haven’t kept
‘private things private’.  Of course I know how petty it sounds that I find it
difficult to say something as simple as ‘I’m off to the bathroom’, but I was
conditioned my entire life to be guarded and keep secrets.  I guess old habits
really do die hard.  But here I am; about to take another step in leaving my
father behind, leaving my old life behind.  I exhale, and then, without turning
to look at him (baby steps), I say very quietly, “I’m going to the bathroom.”