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Chapter 1
Tiffany
“Sorry.I’dloveto,but work has me cuffed by the wrists,” Mario said in response to me practically begging him to come over. Ever since the blowout at Lion’s Bar, Mario, Jared, and Anthony treated me like the plague. “You know I’m just trying to get your apartment back,” he groused.
In the meantime, he was letting me use one of the empty apartments that hadn’t been sold or leased yet. That was nice, but it didn’t ease my frustrations. Even though he went through a lot of trouble to make it look and feel like mine. My frustrations weren’t entirely with him, although him avoiding me was part of it. My frustrations had to do with how the whole situation unfolded.
As far as the apartment went, however, he tried his best. Since he was the one who decorated the apartment Chris had gifted me, he had all those purchases stored on his books. It was easy for him to just go ahead and repurchase everything. The interior was practically the same: bluish-teal accents with hanging white lights in the kitchen and living room, the golden couch that doubled as a sofa bed, and even the cream-colored beige throw blanket that was my cuddle buddy on nights in front of the same flat-screen TV.
The doors that led to the visitor’s bathroom and my bedroom were painted in pale yellow. My double bed had soft pastel-blue sheets, and there was a blue armchair by the window. This apartment was only two doors away from my old apartment, so the view from my bedroom window looked out onto the same mountains. The sun wasn’t as blinding and didn’t hit my skin the same in the morning, but it was close enough.
He spent many nights and mornings over at my apartment, so he knew where everything was kept. He replaced every piece of silverware, he tried to replace all my hair products except for the holding ones, which meant I had to change up my look again, opting for soft, loose ponytails and messy buns instead. He forgot tampons, panty shields, and Q-tips. There were no makeup options for days when my confidence wasn’t soaring through the roof. My special coochie spray was mostly hidden from the guys, so he didn’t know about that and therefore couldn’t replace it.
Not that it was needed since it was used on my underwear in emergencies, to mask the smell of sex. They had abandoned my coochie, so there was no sex scent to mask.
“Why are you avoiding me, Mario?” The words slipped out of my mouth. We were on the phone as I was getting ready for work. A quickie in the morning was my sole request. It felt like years had passed since either of them had touched my body, even though it had been no more than a week.
Mario grumbled in frustration, which only fueled my own frustration. “I’m not avoiding you, Tiffany…” he started.
“You know what, forget about it. I won’t beg you to fuck me, to look at me, touch me, want me, or choose me. If you don’t want me, fine. Someone else will,” I said before hanging up the phone.
Immediate regret flushed my cheeks as heat tingled my body in embarrassment. He didn’t deserve that. The fact that he’d done so much for me, didn’t fly over my head. My heart soared with gratitude and appreciation for him and Jared, who got me new work clothes and shoes. Anthony, well, he went M.I.A. Still, it felt like luck had fallen upon me after what could’ve been a lot worse after my family deserted me. But that didn’t ease the frustration building up with each passing day.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that I hadn’t been fucked in a week, or perhaps it had something to do with my family turning their backs on me. It could also be about money and my parents freezing my bank account while they worked on putting a stop to their weekly deposits and detaching me from their accounts. It could have to do with the repercussions of their decisions and the shame I felt having to rely entirely on the men who looked at me like spoiled milk for any and all financial necessities.
At least I’d only have to rely on them until my pending paychecks came into the new bank account. Not that my paycheck was anything to write home about as a first-year associate at a start-up law firm. It was far below average. That wasn’t a problem before brokenness became a part of my identity. Okay, maybe being ‘broke’ was a stretch; the guys had no problem helping but somehow, not having my own money made me feel imprisoned. It was also revealing to me that I didn’t have my own money before and was imprisoned by my family. And that revelation was depressing.
Chris gifting me the apartment, having an abundance of money in my account, having my own car, it was all a facade. None of it was ever mine if it could be taken from me as they had been. They were loans contingent on their approval of me. That realization made me feel vulnerable with Mario, Anthony, and Jared; they could do the same thing to me. That fear wasn’t helped by them not wanting me sexually anymore. It was more like I was a charity case to them now, rather than a lover.
Anxiety grew inside me in fear of how quickly the life I accustomed myself to could vanish. Just as it did this weekend. In the blink of an eye, Chris decided to make me homeless, and my parents decided to stop financially supporting me. Similarly, Mario and Jared could wake up tomorrow and decide they were over providing for me. Whether or not I wanted them to, they could abandon me as well, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I was at their mercy.
Mario could rip the apartment from under my feet. Jared could demand for me to give him back everything he’d ever bought for me. And all that could happen if somehow, I failed to be perfect enough in their eyes or upset them in some way. It awoke something rebellious in me and made me want to sabotage myself before they could. Something in my chest was being wound so tight, it was only a matter of time before it ripped me to shreds.
Groaning, I flopped back onto the sofa and attempted to put on my shoes. Leaning forward alone to slip my shoes on was like trying to move a mountain. Everything felt harder, my head hurt, and nausea attacked me out of nowhere. To make matters worse, the new pair of shoes I had just tried on to go with today’s suit felt a lot smaller now than it felt in the store. It was scraping the shit out of the back of my heel and squeezing the hell out of my toes. Breaking in new shoes wasn’t fun, especially when there were perfectly comfortable shoes in my apartment… excuse me,Chris’apartment.
Tossing the shoes across the living room, I sank my head into my hands, feeling a pimple on the side of my cheek. Maybe my period was on the way. Great, everyone at the firm would be stuck with pimple face for now because concealer was scarce. And the awkward request for tampons would have to be made to one of the three guys—two since Anthony disappeared like a ghost in the night. Well, not exactly. I knew he was fine since the guys said they had heard from him. It was just me he was trying to avoid.
Breathe, Tiffany. Patience.That was the name of the game. Mario was right. He was working on getting my apartment back. Calling it ‘my apartment’ felt sickening. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted it back. But I for damn sure wanted the stuff inside the apartment thatI bought.
Since Chris was choosing to be uncooperative for all of it, Mario had resorted to getting a court order to allow me to collect my stuff. He volunteered himself to be the one to work on that since Chris bought the apartment from him. That didn’t make much sense to me, but something told me he was just trying to protect me from ripping Chris’ face off and making things worse for myself. To think all of this was happening because Chris couldn’t handle the fact that I was grown enough to sleep with whomever, and that ‘whomever’ happened to be his three best friends. He decided to throw a tantrum and take back all his toys. He and my parents were the same. He claimed he wanted to be different, but it was still all about control for him.
Imaginetelling a grown woman that she couldn’t sleep with whomever she chooses.Imaginetelling three grown men that they needed your permission to sleep with a consenting adult! The audacity.
It would be understandable if he were freaking out about his best friends sleeping with his woman or something. But his sister? Me? The same person who didn’t care about his sex life, yet he was all up in mine? There was a difference between protection and control. He was treating me like an underaged kid who couldn’t consent to three grown adult men. He was dirtying it and turning it into something it wasn’t. He needed to show me where the danger was. Apparently, he was the only one capable of seeing it.
This was so stupid and uncalled for. Grunting, I threw my feet into the shoes of death, grabbed my faux leather handbag, and grimaced on my way to the door. The sound of tinkling wind chimes brought me to a stop as my phone rang from the couch. Good thing, or it would’ve been left behind.
These damn shoes were killing me.There is no way I’ll be able to walk through the office today in these damn things,I thought on my way back to the couch to grab my phone.
It was my boss, and it was already fifteen minutes past eight. Fixing my mouth to apologize for running late, I answered the call.
“Ms. Sau…” My words were cut off.
“Ms. Levine, please don’t worry about coming into work today,” Ms. Saunders said.
My words flew back into my throat as my skin prickled with anticipation. This didn’t sound good to start with.
“As you know, Bronkers & Associates is a start-up firm, and we’re trying to create a reputation for ourselves. While we appreciate how you helped us win a case against Crawford & Beam, which was a good look for a small firm like ours, we can’t be associated with the negative press around you at this time. It wouldn’t look great for our image. Therefore, we regret to inform you that it will not be necessary to complete your probationary period with us,” she continued.
