Cut So Deep Page 3

  She shrugs and turns her back as she spreads mayo on a slice of bread. “It was in the kitchen, I figure it’s fair game,” is her only response.

  “But you know I buy it especially for when I have cravings.”

  She shrugs again.

  I bite my cheek and huff out a breath. It’s not worth getting into a fight over. It’s not worth getting into a fight over. If I repeat it enough times, I’ll start to believe it, right?

  I unwrap what’s left of the bar and take a giant bite. The chocolate on my tongue makes me feel slightly better. At least until I reach for the bottle of wine. And see that it’s only half full.

  “What the hell, Shannon?” I all but explode.

  She finally turns around to look at me. “What?” She crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Stop eating my chocolate and drinking my wine.”

  “They didn’t have your name on them.”

  It’s such a goddamned childish thing to say.

  “What are we, nine-year-olds?”

  Her jaw locks. “Apparently some of us live as if we were.” She nods toward the manila envelope on the table behind me that so far I’ve managed to avoid thinking about. “You live like a child, as if you don’t have any responsibilities.”

  I step up to her, forefinger pointed at her chest. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I all but growl.

  She smacks my finger away. “Don’t I? I’m the one who’s here, living with you and helping you raise your son because you’re the naïve idiot who got knocked up by her married professor. You actually thought he’d leave his wife for you?” She shakes her head.

  Even after all this time, her words sting. Because I was exactly what she’s accusing me of. I was naïve. I was stupid.

  I was officially a junior when I took David’s class, though it was my first year on a real campus. I transferred to Stanford with credits built up from AP classes and an accredited online college. It was unusual that I got in like that, but apparently my entrance essay won over the board—impoverished, small town beauty pageant girl dreams of studying computer science and becoming a robotics engineer.

  Then I took philosophy my first semester and met David. He was so charismatic, so worldly, so wise. It was thrilling when he, a professor, wanted to spend time with me outside of class. When he said he wanted to mentor me because I had such a unique mind, unlike any he’d seen in his fifteen years of teaching, I was star-struck.

  The night I first kissed him, he pushed me away at first. It seemed like a genuine fight against his conscience before he finally returned my embrace.

  My stomach sours now at the memory. He should’ve taught acting instead of philosophy. He certainly had me fooled. I believed everything. I believed him when he said he’d never met someone like me before. That he’d never even been tempted to start a relationship with a student before me. That I was special to him. When he said words like forever, I swallowed them hook, line, and sinker.

  “He said they were divorced—” I defend weakly.

  Shannon rolls her eyes. “Sure, sure. I’ve heard your sob story a hundred times. I stood up to Mom and Dad for you.”

  “You didn’t do it for me,” I say, calling her on it. We were always at each other’s throats growing up. She thought I was spoiled. Our parents’ golden child. Until I wasn’t. “You did it for Charlie.”

  “Well, someone had to,” she fires back, eyes blazing. “Someone had to take care of that baby. Or do you not remember when I bailed you out of jail while you were pregnant? It’s not Charlie’s fault…” She stops herself, but just barely.

  “Just say it,” I spit at her, my heart pumping wildly. I’ve always known this was what she secretly thought of me. This is just the first time she’s even come close to letting it out.

  Her arms lock tighter around her chest and her lips purse. “Say it,” I demand, but finally I just say it for her. “It’s not his fault who his parents are.”

  I pull back from her and for a second, I can see myself how she sees me. Really, isn’t it the vision I try to fight against every day? That used up, pathetic, broken mess I let David make of me?

  We talked so often about a future together. When I was throwing up on Easter Sunday and peed on four sticks to quadruple check it, I felt confident David would welcome the news of our coming baby. When he instead said that this was a sign things have been moving too fast, gone too far and that I needed to get rid of it… I was so shocked I thought it was a nightmare. I kept waiting to come to. I started slapping myself to wake myself up. David said I was crazy and I needed to leave. He said he’d been getting tired of our arrangement anyway and this was the last straw.

  I went a little insane.

  I don’t exactly know what happened then, though the shame of it will follow me until my dying day. I was so weak. So horribly weak. David was my everything, it was all I could see.

  I camped outside his door for a week, begging him to tell me what was wrong, to take me back, to do whatever we had to in order to fix it. I would have done anything, been anything for him. It literally just wouldn’t sink in why he was acting the way he was. I had crazy thoughts, like someone was forcing him to say the things he was, that his ex-wife was blackmailing him, like happened in the books I read—somehow he was being forced to lie to me when in actuality he loved me as much as he’d always said he did.

  But none of that was true.

  He threatened to call the police if I didn’t stop harassing him. Little by little, it finally started sinking in. My beloved David had turned into a stranger and I felt like I was living someone else’s life. Even living in someone else’s body because of the changes the pregnancy was wreaking on me. It was like being dropped into a parallel universe where no one and nothing was the same. Nothing made sense. Except that I realized David was a liar.

  After going days without sleep and having David threaten to call the cops on me, I slid even further down the stupidity ladder. I came back to his house in the middle of the night, bashed in all the windows on his car and then set it on fire. He really loved that stupid car.

  The satisfaction at having done it was short-lived, however.

  The cops finally came.

  Having morning sickness while being in County lockup? Yeah, that’s exactly as fun as it sounds. David only agreed not to press charges as long as I promised to leave him alone. That and not report him to the administration. Relationships with students weren’t grounds for dismissal—the faculty involved was supposed to report them as soon as they started and David hadn’t. Because unofficially, they were frowned upon. It was why he said we had to keep it a secret the whole time we were together. By the end of the whole mess, I would have said anything to be finished with all of it.

  Or so I thought. After all that, I never thought about having him sign documents officially giving up paternity of Charlie. Everything settled down and I got counseling at a local women’s center. The last thing I ever expected was for David to suddenly decide to fight me for custody two-and-a-half years later.

  And win.

  Ever since the initial hearing, David’s been getting Charlie each Wednesday and every other weekend. I laugh bitterly to myself. Because it’s not just David—it’s him and his wife who swoop in and take my little boy away from me twice a week. It’s her who has the trust fund and whose father is a judge.

  Yeah.

  I don’t know why out of the blue David decided he wanted to be part of Charlie’s life, but I suspect it had something to do with the shrew wife. Maybe her biological clock finally started ticking, but it was too late to do anything about it—that thought makes me happy, the idea of David with a dried-up old shrew. But no, from the little he told me, she’s a few years younger, only in her late thirties. So, maybe she doesn’t want a baby to disturb her perfect figure.

  Either way, she found out about my Charlie. Now she’s trying to take him for her own.

  And if I don’t find the money for ev
en a semi-competent lawyer… We’re so screwed…

  Shannon’s eyes fixate on the manila envelope. It’s opened and I know she’s read through every page. She runs her hands through her hair and then down her face. All of the sudden, the bitchy attitude drops and when she looks back at me, I can see how scared she is.

  “What if they take Charlie away from us?”

  It’s what I’ve been fighting not to think about. But seeing Shannon, my always untouchable older sister, look afraid puts the fear of God in me.

  “They won’t.” I reach out and grab her hands. “I won’t let them.”

  She scoffs and tries to pull out of my grasp, but I don’t let her.

  “I swear, Shannon.” I move so I’m standing closer to her, forcing her to meet my eyes.

  “I got a job today.” As soon as it pops out of my mouth, I know it’s the only way. I don’t even blink as the realization sets in.

  I have to keep the job.

  Everything was so insane earlier I didn’t get the exact salary, but I know from my research before I applied that similar positions in the area can bring in as much as sixty or even seventy thousand dollars a year. I can’t turn down that kind of money, not when it means the difference between keeping Charlie or not.

  Shannon starts to speak, but I cut her off and squeeze her hands even harder. “Not just another waitressing gig. I’ll be making real money. Enough to hire a great lawyer.”

  I can tell she doesn’t believe me but I shake her a little. “I swear. I’m not going to fuck up this time. We won’t lose Charlie. We won’t.” And as I say the words, I’m making a solemn vow. I will do whatever it takes, no matter what.

  Which means, tomorrow morning, I’ll be heading straight back into the lion’s den.

  Whatever it takes.

  Chapter Three

  “Good morning Miss Cruise, I trust you slept well last night?”

  I nod and my best pageant smile is back out and in full force. I didn’t win Little Miss Siskiyou County for nothing.

  For Bryce’s part, he’s all easy-going charm. If anything, he seems amused by the front I’m putting up.

  “Lovely.” He waves me forward into his office from where I’m standing by the door. “To get started, I’ve got a stack of forms from HR. Then we’ll begin going over your list of duties. Your office is beside mine.”

  He gestures at a door I hadn’t realized was there before. It’s on the side wall, perpendicular to the wall of the door I entered through. With a touch of a button under his desk, the glass unfrosts and a door slides open to the side. I can see every inch of what will be my office through the now-clear glass. My eyes widen.

  “I find it most convenient,” he smirks, “to have my personal assistant close by whenever I may have need of you.”

  I swallow, stepping toward the door and taking in the room. Like Bryce’s office, the three internal walls are made of glass that can be clear or frosted, with the fourth a window to the outside. The offices have a spectacular view of the Bay.

  With only the wall between us unfrosted, no one from the rest of the office will be able to see in. I look back at Bryce. He’s still just wearing a casual smile, like we’re friends out for a beer after work.

  My chest feels tight. So… what? We’ll be, like, having sex in here while everyone else just goes about their day? How exactly will this work? I hate the not knowing.

  “So what are my, um,” I stumble over my words, then blink, hating that I’m put in this awkward, bumbling position, “duties?”

  I lift my chin higher. Screw him. I might have to do this, but I don’t have to lose my dignity.

  His head quirks to the side. “You’re here of your own free will. Remember that, Miss Cruise. If you enter into this—” he tilts his head to the side as if searching for the right word, “—arrangement, I’m not forcing you.”

  Then the easy charm dissipates and the edge from yesterday comes back into his voice. “But if you agree and sign those forms, you’ll not betray my trust. If you ever do, things will go very badly for you.”

  Chills race down my spine. Not the good kind. This motherfucker’s scary. Scary like he was at the end of the ‘interview’ yesterday when his easy-going-guy façade dropped and I saw the flash of pure meanness. What the hell am I getting myself into?

  But then I think of Charlie, nestled so secure in his bed last night. I think of my promise to Shannon. I think of my empty bank account. I can’t let David and his wife take Charlie from me.

  “I won’t disappoint you,” I manage to say through my tight throat. “Also, um, we never discussed the actual salary for the position.”

  “Didn’t we?”

  “No.” I would have remembered. “Is it an hourly wage or yearly salary?”

  “Yearly.”

  That’s all the bastard offers, even though it’s obvious what I’m trying to get at. It feels like some kind of power play, him making me beg for every scrap.

  “And what is that yearly salary?” I say, smiling with gritted teeth.

  “Ah, of course.” He looks down at his desk and searches through some papers there. “Procuring employment is such a mercenary business, isn’t it?” he says in the way someone would an off-handed comment. “All about what services or part of our souls we’re willing to part with for such and such compensation.”

  The words sting like a slap. Sure he just described business as a whole, but it was also basically the definition of prostitution.

  “Here we are,” he holds up a paper with a broad smile on his face. He runs his finger down the page, eyes scanning back and forth. He mumbles under his breath, as if skimming the document, then announces, “Eighty-five.”

  I stop breathing. Wait. Does he— “What?” I squeak out when I finally manage to gasp a breath.

  “Eighty-five,” he repeats, looking over the top of the paper at me.

  “Thousand?” I ask, my voice still unnaturally high. “Eighty-five thousand?”

  “Yeeeeeees,” he draws out the word. “That’s what I said.” Both his eyebrows lift until he’s staring at me as if I’m especially slow. It’s not completely unfounded either. My brain is moving slow. Eighty-five thousand. Holy shit. That’s about twenty thousand more than I was really expecting. With that kind of money…

  Finally my brain catches up to the moment and I shake my head to clear it.

  Once it does, I don’t hesitate. “I need an advance on my first paycheck.” I keep my eyes firmly on his and manage not even to show my nerves by swallowing like I have the sudden urge to do. “Today.”

  He doesn’t hesitate. “Done. Direct deposit information is part of the packet. Fill out your information and the money will be wired to your account by the end of the business day. Now, I’ll give you a couple of hours to get through the forms and set up your email on your computer. You’ll also find a cellphone that I expect you to have on you at all times, so set that up as well. Then I have a meeting at eleven that I’d like you to attend and take notes for.”

  “Oh,” I say, trying not to sound too surprised. So I will actually be doing real work. Thank God. I smile, and it’s the first genuine one since I’ve walked through the door. “Excellent.”

  He smiles back and waves me toward the door to my office, then sits down at his desk. He turns to his computer that’s gone dark in the time he’s been away from it. He leans over, puts his eye to an eye scanner I’m just now noticing is attached to the side of his screen. Then he lays his hand on another small dark rectangular plate that lights up at his touch.

  Damn, if I didn’t get it that I’m working with some top-secret high-tech shit, it’s starting to sink in. This company must deal in big stakes. I know they make drones and just got a big Department of Defense contract from what I read online, but damn.

  I pull my purse up on my shoulder and head the way he gestured a moment ago.

  “Oh, Callie, one last thing.”

  I look over my shoulder. “Yes?”

&n
bsp; “After you sign the non-disclosure agreement, take off your shirt. You’ll work the rest of the morning until the meeting with those fat juicy tits of yours on display. No bra either. I want to see your nipples and remember what it was like having them between my fingers.”

  Then he goes back to his computer, typing in something on what looks like a password screen. Like nothing unusual just came out of his mouth.

  Meanwhile I just stand there for a second, slack-jawed. He can’t be serious. What the hell? It’s only the hundredth time I’ve had that thought in the brief time I’ve spent with this guy.

  He’s not just some small-time grocery store manager. He has big time government contracts, for fuck’s sake. But then it sinks in. Of course. He’s a wealthy, powerful man. Used to getting whatever he wants.

  And I’m a nobody.

  Don’t even think of ever telling. No one would believe you, you little bitch. It’d be your word against mine. And who’d ever believe a little nothing bitch like you? I’m the richest man in town. I’ll fire your father and then you’ll have nothing. Nothing.

  I cringe at the memory and then shake my head. This is nothing like that. I’m not a teenage girl anymore. I’m a grown woman with choices.

  Choices. Right. I could always choose to walk away, knowing it could mean I lose my son.

  Eighty-five thousand dollars a year.

  So maybe I don’t have that many more choices than I did when I was sixteen after all.

  Screw it. Choice is overrated anyway. Besides, it’s not like it’ll be that much different than working at Hooters. There was just thin fabric separating my boobs from guys staring at them all day when I worked in the restaurant.

  And I already decided last night. Bryce just momentarily threw me off guard by being courteous and professional and then it was all boom out of left field, ‘take off your shirt.’ But yeah, I gotta always keep it in mind—as far as Bryce Gentry is concerned, civility is only a slim mask.

  I let out a slow breath and walk toward my office. The room is decorated very similarly to Bryce’s. It’s smaller, but it has the same chrome and white furniture and ultra-modern feel—the kind of place you imagine a Bond villain would use as his lair.