The valet left the tire iron on the ground from earlier. I snatch it and wield it like a weapon.
Parker laughs. “Ju-Ju. You can barely hold that thing. Put it down.”
He’s never going to learn. He’ll keep hurting people as long as he breathes.
Why didn’t I report him? Even if it would have brought awful scrutiny into my life.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins. Once, I loved him. The mere idea seems preposterous.
I pull the tire iron back and slam it against his passenger-side mirror.
A loud popping noise reverberates as my hands tingle from the impact. The mirror jiggles for a moment, then drops and hangs by a single wire.
His eyes flare. “What the fuck!”
I slam it down again, hitting the glass of the windshield. It emits a sickening crunch and spider webs.
“Stop it, you crazy whore!”
Not that word. Not ever.
“Whoa,” the valets calls, giving himself plenty of space as he approaches us. “Let’s bring this down a notch.”
My chest rises rapidly, the metal stick heavy in my hands. I swallow thickly, but don’t want to let the anger go.
The other valet returns with Eric’s truck and the headlights flash in my face.
Parker throws open the door and stalks over to me, hands raised. “You stupid—”
I raise the weapon back up. “My next shot will be your balls.”
He freezes, gauging the situation. “Why?”
Why?
“Leave. Eric. Alone.”
“Yeah, all right! Fine!” he snaps, then without warning, he reaches and tries to grab it from me. I swipe it down, connecting with his knuckles.
“What the—what the fuck?” He grabs his hand. “We’ve got a bowl game, you—”
I take the tire iron in both hands and press it up against his chest and shove.
He stumbles to the ground and our eyes connect.
I laugh, the sound a little off.
“How does it feel? To be scared?” I ask. “That’s how I felt when you tackled me and took me to your room.”
With one last glare at him, I drop the tire iron and walk to Eric’s truck. Half of my hair is out of the up-do, so I remove the clip and shake it out, letting it fall to my shoulders. My heart beats rapidly. My skin feels singed by fire. I feel . . .
Alive.
By the time I pull out, Parker has jetted away like a scalded cat.
I crank up the music as I pull out of the drive. I hit a couple of dead-ends as I try different roads to get out of the subdivision. Soon, the mansions give way to smaller row homes, and in the blink of an eye, I’m in Sparrow Lake.
My hands ache as I clench the steering wheel.
I am my own universe. I’m made of black holes and glittering galaxies.
It doesn’t matter that I take my clothes off for money.
I matter.
I fucking matter.
The truck pulls into the police station. I get out of the truck, walk in, and approach the lady at the front desk. She’s wearing a uniform. Her name tag says Officer Carden.
She gives me a careful look, taking in the dress. Probably my wild hair. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to report something. I’m not sure what to call it when a man throws you over his shoulder, unwillingly, then handcuffs you to a bed without your consent. He kissed me. He grabbed my breast.”
She stands. Looks me over. “Come back and have a seat. Did this happen tonight?”
I fidget as I sit, crossing my legs. “A few weeks ago. I saw him tonight, though.” I stare down at my hands. “I beat his car with a tire iron and threatened him. He’ll probably report it. His name is Parker Cavendish.”
She blinks. “I understand. Let me get a detective.”
30
Julia
I’m in bed at two in the afternoon when my bedroom door bursts open and Taylor waltzes in and plops down. “Rise and shine, love. I’m back from Christmas and wanna hear everything about your party at Eric’s.”
Like a splash of happy, he’s wearing green pants and a bright yellow sweater.
I’m so happy to see him that I squeal and throw my arms around him.
“You have no idea what’s been going on,” I say as I sit up in bed and pull my knees up to my chest. My mirror against the wall tells the story. Tangled hair, red eyes, and there’s even a spot of red pizza sauce on my chin.
In the five days since the party, I’ve barely noticed life. I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my mom and put on a happy face, but when I came home—alone—I ate whatever I could find and watched a long line of Christmas movies. Last night I worked at the club bartending and was glad to be around people.
I’ve been to the police station once more since that first night when I sat in a small room and wrote my witness statement. At the last visit, I was interviewed by a special investigator. I recounted my relationship with Parker, his phone texts, his brothers who wouldn’t let me leave the Kappa house that night.