Love Under Construction (The Love Under Series Book 1) (2 page)

As I walked down the stairs, the aromas of my Mom’s cooking hit me. The smell of garlic, onions, and tomato sauce teased my nose and drew me into the kitchen entranced. 

“What’s for dinner, Mom? It smells delicious.”

“Beef stew, honey, I figured I would make your favorite before your weekend,” she said as she smacked my hand with the wooden spoon when I tried to snag a carrot from the pot. “Hey, did you wash your hands?” Mom asked, waving her spoon at me.

I rolled my eyes and headed to the sink to wash my hands and avoid getting smacked with her lethal spoon again. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. How long did you know about this?”

“Your father only told me this afternoon. I had no idea.”

“Hhmph. Well, it’s not exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend.” I sighed. 

“I know, Max. Just give it a chance, okay? For your father.”

“Fine, but for the record, I’m not happy.”

“Dually noted. Now, can you please grab some bowls? Let’s have some dinner, and you can be sore with your father later.”

I grabbed three bowls from the cabinet and headed into the dining room where my dad was already seated at the table. 

“I thought your mother said dinner was ready?” my dad asked as he looked over the restaurant supply catalog.

“It is; she is right behind me.” 

“Hold your horses, Rick. It’s coming,” my mom grumbled as she held the hot pot carefully with mitted hands, placing it on the trivets on the table. “Will you go grab the rice, Max?”

“Sure, Mom.” I went back to the kitchen to grab the bowl of steamy white rice from the countertop and returned to join my parents at the table, handing the bowl of rice to my mother.  

As my mom served the rice and passed the bowl to my father, she asked, “Do you have any schoolwork for the long weekend?” 

“No, with state exams in progress and all the test prep we have been having, the teachers are giving us a break, finally.”

“Good, then you can give your full attention to your Aunt Kelli and Uncle Mike at the ranch,” my dad chimed in.

I groaned my discontent as I shoveled spoons of stew into my mouth before I said something stupid. I didn’t want to ruin dinner or my weekend by pissing my dad off. All I needed was for him to call Uncle Mike with a “lesson to be learned” on the ranch. I didn’t need to add any components to the already crappy weekend I had in store for me.

“Let’s go,” Bill said, practically dragging me by my elbow off the dance floor. 

“Wait, why? It’s not even ten.” 

“We are leaving, now.”

As we reached the coat check, his demeanor changed from sharp to smooth as silk.

“Hey, sweetheart, we are calling it an early night. May we have our coats please?” Bill asked as he slid the coat check ticket across the counter. 

“Sure, I'll get them for you." The young lady in the coat room went to fetch our jackets as Bill continued to squeeze at my upper arm. He only released me when she handed him my coat. He plastered on an award-winning smile and held out my coat for me to put on. He didn't bother to put his own on, draping it over his arm, and grabbed me once more leading me out of the banquet hall.

I knew better than to talk to Bill when he was in such a state, but I just didn't understand what he was so upset about. I would surely have a bruise on my arm in the morning. We walked to our car at the end of the drive, and Bill thrusted me inside with his palm on top my head as an officer would with a criminal, except I had no idea what my crime was that time. 

Bill drove home a man on a mission. I tried to keep my composure, but when he took a turn too hard and I braced myself against the window and the dashboard, it simply amused him.

“Do you actually think I would wreck my car? You don't have to worry about getting hurt, I wouldn't scratch my car for that.” He chuckled menacingly.

After that, I believe he took the rest of the turns on the way home at top speed just to scare me.

When we got into the apartment, he went straight for the liquor cabinet. He poured himself some whiskey as I sat on the couch. When he banged the glass down on the counter, it startled me.

Bill came around the sofa, yanking me by my hair to look up at him. “Why are you so jumpy? Guilty conscience, you whore?”

“The glass …” I didn't know why I bothered saying anything; I was fucked either way. When he was in a mood like that, there was no right or wrong answer, even if it was the truth. 

He released my hair, returning back to the counter and his bottle. He poured himself more whiskey and came back to the sofa.

“This glass?” he said, taking a long swig. “You're scared of this glass?” He wrapped his hand in my hair again, jerking my head back so I would look up at him.

I couldn't nod or move my head if I tried he had such a firm grip on my hair. I whimpered as I felt hairs being pulled from the roots. 

“Stop your crying, I'm not even doing anything to you. No more than that guy did to you on the dance floor,” he yelled in my face, and the strong smell of liquor hit me.

I tried to rack my brain to think what he could possibly be talking about. The only guy I danced with was the guy in the design department’s boyfriend. “Marvin?”

“Is that the guy’s name you were rubbing up on all night?”

“Marvin is gay.”

My reply was so fast, and my instinct to roll my eyes preceded me. Before I could say anything more, the sting of the hard slap scorched my cheek, making my nose run and my eyes tear. I cupped my cheek in disbelief.

“You think I'm a
fool
?” he screamed in my face. “He had his hands all over you and in your hair. You want hands in your hair? I can yank hair too.”

“Bill, you don't understand; he's a hairdresser. This is all a misunderstanding,” I pleaded my case.

When his hand came back to hit me again, I tried to duck. Instead, he caught me across the eye and the nose. The blood started to pour out of my nose and on to my chest. 

“You had to ruin the evening. We were having such a good time. Now look at what you've done. Clean up this mess,” he spat down at me as I held my face in my hands in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding. He chugged the last of his drink, then threw the short tumbler glass against the wall. 

“This better be all cleaned up by the time I get back.” He grabbed his jacket and left me there bleeding.

I didn’t think he would do it again.
Last time he was so apologetic, but this time he made me bleed.
My nose and lip were bleeding, and all I could do was slump against the wall in shock. I couldn't do it anymore. He would surely come back drunker than when he left with whatever punishment he had in mind. I thought of my last resort. I grabbed my cell phone and called my best friend, my lifeline, the one person I could count on no matter what.

“H-hello,” a groggy Aubrey answered the phone.

“Aubs, it's me, Suzie. I need you”

“Oh, sweetie, what happened?” She was instantly on full alert.

“I need you. I have to get out,” I pleaded.

“What? Out? What happened?”

“Bill …” I couldn't even get the rest of the words out before my chest began to ache and tighten stealing my breath, and all I could do was cry as Aubrey spoke into the other end of the line trying to call me down.

“Suzie! Listen to me. Are you listening?” Aubrey screamed into the phone. “Suzie, get in your car and go to the Greyhound station. Take your purse and whatever will fit in a backpack and get your ass on the bus. Understand me?”

“I don't have any money; payday isn't until next Friday.”

“I will order you a ticket online as soon as I hang up. Just go pick it up and get your ass on the bus.”

“What? What about work?”

“It's Friday. We have until Monday to figure it all out. Now, go move your ass. Grab some clothes and let's go. It will be okay. We will figure it out.”

“I love you, Aubs”

“I do too, Suzie. I will see you in a few hours.”

I hung up and stared at my phone until the screen went black. As I continued to stare, I saw the swelling on the left side of my face as the bruise began to form around my eye and the drying blood crusted my lower lip in the reflection of my phone.

“How did I become this woman?” I asked myself as I slid along the wall to stand and walked into my bedroom. I grabbed my purple gym bag that was fairly large and grabbed all the clean underwear and socks in my dresser drawer. I opened my closet, and there was no way I could carry all of it. So, I just grabbed my favorite jeans, some yoga pants, a couple of T-shirts, and my favorite purple hoodie. I didn't know how long I would be gone, but it was enough for a few days. I stuffed my laptop in-between my clothes to protect it, zipped up my gym bag, and headed to the door.

I looked back at our apartment with all our happy couple pictures and then to the floor riddled with broken glass and remnants of Bill's whiskey and tried to think of when we took those pictures. Company party, his promotion celebrating the golf tournament he won, a gallery opening we attended—it was all about him. I grabbed the frame on the end that held the picture of my old cat, Theo, and shoved it in my purse as I walked out the door.

The next Greyhound didn't leave until the wee hours of morning, and it would be a longer ride than necessary, but at least I didn't have to drive. I’m not sure my car would’ve made it anyway. One of the guys in my office nicknamed my car Chitty Chitty Bang Bang because he said it felt like it was held together with duct tape and pure luck. He was probably right, but I couldn't afford anything else, and whenever we went anywhere, we took Bill’s car because he liked to drive.

I parked my car in the long-term parking lot in the furthest spot so no one would bother it and made sure nothing was visible so no one would be tempted to break into it or mess around. I grabbed my purse and gym bag and headed into the station. The clerk at the counter was watching the television on the wall of the waiting room and had the sound running through the speakers of the waiting room. 

“How can I help you?” she said with her eyes never leaving the screen.

“I'm here to pick up a ticket.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Oklahoma City.”

“Swipe whatever credit card you used for your reservation in the machine over there, and it'll print your ticket,” she instructed as she absently waved in the direction of the self-serve kiosk.

“I didn't pay for it.”

“So you need to purchase a ticket? Go over to the kiosk and just enter your destination and swipe your card and it will print your ticket.” She was still staring at the screen as a laugh track from the sitcom filled the waiting room.

“No, ma'am, my friend paid for the ticket. I need to pick it up.”

Now capturing her attention, she turned to face me with a huff. “What name is the ticket under?”

“Suzie … Suzanne Pierce”

She typed a few things into the computer. “This is a one way to Oklahoma City. Do you need a return?” she asked as she printed my ticket and the tag for my bag.

“No, I don't think so.”

The clerk paused and gave me a glance over. “Have your ID ready before you board. Please check your tickets that everything is correct before leaving the counter.”