Tilly tapped on her keyboard for a moment. “That night at the club, when Loren gave you our numbers, she stepped outside and called me immediately before she did it. Unfortunately, by the time I got my ass in gear and got moving to get over to the club, you two had already left. Loren said that when she went to go into the bathroom, Jack had stepped forward to stop her and she told him if he didn’t get the fuck out of her way, he’d wish he had.”
Betsy’s heart thumped. “I didn’t know.”
“I’m sure he didn’t tell you. But Loren said it wasn’t long after that he hustled you out of there.”
That was exactly what had happened. At the time, Betsy hadn’t known why. He’d asked her if Loren had said anything to her while she was in the bathroom, and she’d flat-out lied and said she’d heard someone come in and wash their hands, but hadn’t spoken to them.
All the while, thinking about the slip of paper hiding in her bra. She hadn’t had her purse with her. Jack had put her license in his wallet for the evening. He’d asked to see her hands when she’d walked out, and she thanked god she’d thought to hide the paper.
When she’d stripped upon returning to the apartment, yes, Jack had paid more attention than usual, and then his demeanor changed, going back to normal once she was naked.
She’d quickly let that incident slip from her mind. Mostly so she didn’t risk him thinking something had happened once he’d appeared satisfied that it hadn’t.
“So,” Tilly said, “when you start thinking you have this huge burden of guilt for what’s happening now, dump it. There are several of us shouldering our own burdens of guilt that you’re in this position. No, we can’t police everyone. We’re not a nanny state, for chrissake. People are adults and we can’t stop every bad decision out there. But several of us comparing notes realized too late, unfortunately, that we should have stepped in sooner. If nothing else, to get you alone, speak with you, and make sure you were okay. And we failed you as friends. And for that, we feel guilty.”
She’d had no idea. Betsy had assumed she was totally alone now. Well, before Saturday night. She’d assumed once Jack had cut her parents out of the picture that it was her against…well, everyone. Because Jack had sworn that if she tried to leave him, he’d ruin her, turn any- and everyone against her.
Then Loren had slipped her their phone numbers.
Never would she have dreamed that maybe everyone was already against him.
“This is how today will go,” Tilly said. “Finish eating. I’m going to make sure I can print something and access the Internet before they leave. We’re going to get you a shower and get you dressed and then we’re going to go see Ted Collins at his office to talk to him for a little while. I’m also taking you shopping. Back here, work on your resume, and then comes the hard part.”
That all sounded hard right at that moment. “The hard part?”
She looked grim. “We’re going to track down your parents, and you’re going to let me talk to them.”
Cold fear filled her. “My parents?”
Tilly set her laptop on the coffee table and turned to her. “You haven’t actually talked to your parents, have you?”
She shook her head.
“When and what was your last contact with them?”
“I sent them a Christmas card, but that was before Jack talked to them that night.”
“You mean the phone call you aren’t even sure really happened?”
“But I was right there when he called them!”
“He called someone, but you don’t know who. He could have called his own fucking voicemail, for all you know. Or he could have faked making a call.”
Betsy wasn’t sure if her thrumming pulse was from fear or hope.
“Maybe he did call them,” Tilly continued. “Maybe he called them and sent them pictures. Maybe he didn’t. But do you want to spend the rest of your life not knowing for sure?”
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered.
“Did they ever send you any mail?”
“No. I sent them my new address, too.”
“Sent them how?”
“I mailed them a card.”
“You mailed them a card?”
“Yeah, I gave…” Her voice trailed off.
Tilly grimly nodded. “You gave it to him and he supposedly mailed it for you.”
Heat filled her face. She nodded.
“Right. Here’s what I’m going to hope is the best-case scenario. That we contact your parents today and they are overjoyed to hear from their missing daughter, whom they were worried might have fallen off the face of the damned planet. Second-best-case is that Jack told them you didn’t want anything to do with them and they let it go. Worst-case is he did send them pictures and talked to them. But somehow, I doubt he did that.”
“Why?”
“Because he would have been risking your parents calling the cops to do a welfare check. I know if I had a daughter and some douche called me and told me what Jack supposedly told your parents, as soon as I hung up the goddamned phone, I’d be calling the cops to go check on her.”
“Oh.”
Tilly cocked her head. “What?”
It took her a moment to answer. “I felt really hurt by them just accepting what he said and did without wanting to talk to me about it.”
“You did, huh?”
“Yeah. He even made a point of twisting it around. Saying that he could accept me as ‘freaky’ but they couldn’t. Meaning he was right to take control over me because I didn’t belong with ‘vanillas.’”
And then he’d followed it with a tender session to “prove” to her that he loved her.
Betsy felt ludicrous admitting all of that now, but in the cold light of day, and in the safety of Kenny and Nolan’s living room, and with Tilly’s strong shoulder to lean on, she realized how deep she’d been dragged into Jack’s bullshit at the time.
“And you never, at the time, thought he might be pulling one over on you?” Tilly gently asked.
Her left eye blurred with tears as she slowly shook her head. “How fucking stupid am I?”
Tilly hugged her. “Okay, another rule. Stop saying that. You’re not stupid. You made a bad choice about who to trust. Believe me, we’ve all done that at least once in our lives. Eat your breakfast, and we’ll get through today. Hopefully by tonight you’ll have at least one emotional boulder rolled off your back.”
Chapter Ten
Luckily, Tilly hadn’t come armed with only her laptop. Before the guys left, Tilly went out to her SUV and brought in a shower chair. “This was Lan’s. I loaned it to Abbey after her back surgery because she wasn’t supposed to bend over.” She smiled. “Hopefully you won’t need it for long, but trust me, it’s your new best friend.”
After the men left for work, Tilly helped Betsy into the shower. Yes, the shower chair proved to be a godsend. Tilly made Betsy do some slow, careful stretching under the warm water, while Tilly held the shower head for her. Then she made Betsy shave what she could reach of her legs before Tilly helped to finish what she couldn’t.
“Feeling better?” Tilly asked as she combed out Betsy’s hair.
“Lots.”
Betsy forced herself to stare into the mirror at her reflection. Her face looked horrible still, some of the bruises already starting to transform from purple to an ugly brownish green that was almost worse. Her right eye was a little less swollen today than it had been, but it still looked horrific.
In the bedroom, Tilly started dumping bags of clothes that the men had grabbed from the apartment—what few there were—onto the bed and sorting them. The dresser drawers in the guest bedroom were empty, as was the closet. So Tilly started folding and putting them away.
“I’m noticing a distinct lack of any kind of professional clothes,” Tilly noted. “And remind me to give extra kudos to Kenny for what he picked out for you. Dude has style. Let me guess, Jack made you get rid of your work clothes?”
“Ye
ah,” Betsy admitted. Tilly had helped her dress in the comfortable jersey maxi skirt and a different loose top. They were some of the very few clothes Jack had allowed her to keep that weren’t fetish gear.
“Okay, seriously, what the hell?” Tilly asked as she finished putting everything away. “You’ve got like less than a week’s worth of regular clothes.”
“He wouldn’t let me wear clothes at home unless it was cold,” she said.
“Oh.” Tilly’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “I know some people do that, but they usually have exemptions for daily stuff. And they don’t throw away the rest of someone’s clothes in the process.”
“He decided what he thought I needed and I had to donate the rest to Goodwill.”
“Okay.” She sat on the edge of the bed next to Betsy and took her hands in hers. “Do you trust me?”
Betsy nodded. Tilly was one of the few people in this world whom she absolutely trusted.
“Will you please indulge me for at least the next few days?”
“What do you mean?”
She gently tucked Betsy’s damp hair back behind her ears. “I am not going to be able to be around much for you over the next several months once I start working for Leigh, Lucas, and Nick. So I want to do as much as I can, right now, while I can. June, Loren, and Eliza will step in as your primary mentors once I’m out of town, but I called dibs on getting the ball rolling.
“I have what most people would probably label an enchanted life, if they didn’t know my history. Which, quite honestly, isn’t something I’m going to burden you with today. Let’s just say I earned my good fortune. And I have a very rich husband. I also have no sisters or nieces or daughters, and never will. All I have are friends I’ve adopted as family. Meaning when I want to spoil them, I do.”
She gently took Betsy’s hands in hers. “Saturday was a symbolic birthday for you. A rebirthday. And I want, as your friend and someone who cares about you, to spoil you rotten over it. Can you please let me do that, without you feeling guilty about it? I wouldn’t be doing this if I couldn’t afford it. I will also admit it will help me assuage at least a little of my own guilt about what happened. All right?”
Betsy nodded. “Thank you.” She leaned in and hugged her. “Thank you guys for saving me.”
It was comforting to feel Tilly’s arms around her, holding her, stroking her back. It’d been a long time since she’d felt that kind of true safety and love.
“You can thank all of us by showing us the kick-ass woman I know you are, rising above this, and making us all proud.”
“I promise.”
“Good. Now, another question. How long’s it been since you’ve been to the hair salon?”
Betsy shook her head. “Since I moved in with Jack. Months. He wanted me to grow it out long.”
“How do you want it to look?”
“I…I don’t know anymore.”
“Well, we also have an appointment at my hair stylist. I bribed her to come in today. So we need to get you ready.”
“I can’t go out like this.” The last thing she wanted—the last thing she could emotionally handle at that time—was a salon full of nosy women staring at her.
“Yes, you can. She’s normally closed on Mondays. It’ll just be us. Wait here.” She left the room and returned with the tote bag. In it, a brand new, large, floppy-brimmed hat, large sunglasses, and some makeup.
“I wasn’t exactly sure of your skin tone, so I made my best guess. But honestly, that doesn’t matter. I was more worried about the concealer. Hold still.”
Tilly opened the new containers of cosmetics and gently started applying concealer, foundation, and powder to Betsy’s face and neck, being careful around her stitches and swollen eye.
Fifteen minutes later, she sat back and tipped her head as she examined her handiwork. “Put the glasses on.”
The new sunglasses still had the tag on them. Tilly reached over and ripped the tag off and handed them to her.
“Better. They hide the stitches and the worst of your eye. It’s obvious there’s something off, but let’s try the hat.”
Tilly removed the tag and handed it to her. Betsy donned it, then Tilly made a couple of slight adjustments to the hat before smiling.
“There. You look like a movie star going incognito.” She helped Betsy stand and made her look at herself in the mirror over the dresser.
Yes, there was a glimmer of who she used to be staring back at her, but the person in the mirror was still a stranger.
“Thank you for this,” Betsy said.
Tilly snorted. “Thank my husband’s black AmEx,” she said. “Girlfriend, we are going shopping later.”
* * * *
The hair stylist was nice, chatty, and pretended there was absolutely nothing at all wrong with Betsy’s face. She guessed Tilly must have warned her about how bad she’d look, or the stylist was lethal at poker.
Either way, two hours later, Betsy had her first haircut in the better part of a year, layered and hanging at her shoulders, where she’d used to wear it. The stylist had tsked at the poor condition of her hair due to no conditioner and the cheap shampoo Jack had forced her to use, and started off with doing a hot oil treatment that left it feeling better than it had in…well, a long damn time.
She also colored it, adding a few highlights to it and removing the grey starting to creep in, which made a huge difference and made Betsy look younger. Tilly asked the stylist to load them up with product Betsy would need and to add it to the tab.
Once Tilly helped Betsy touch up her makeup and put the hat and glasses back into place, she paid the bill and thanked the stylist with a long hug and a whispered something before taking Betsy’s hand and leading her out to her SUV.
“Where to now?” Betsy asked.
“Ted’s. We’re going to eat lunch there at his office while you chat. I can sit in with you, if you’d like, or I can wait outside.”
“With me, please.”
“No problem. I brought ibuprofen, too, for your pain. I’m sure you’re close to needing some.”
The pain wasn’t quite as debilitating as it had been, but yes, it still hurt. “Thank you.” Her right foot and ankle ached, but Tilly had examined her wounds and determined they weren’t infected.
Ted welcomed them with smiles and an especially gentle hug for Betsy before leading them into his office and closing the door. Tilly and Betsy settled together on the sofa. Betsy took her hat and sunglasses off and set them on the arm of the sofa.
“I’m going to order us pizza, if that’s okay?” Ted asked.
Betsy nodded.
Ted cocked his head. “Betsy?”
“It’s fine.”
She didn’t miss how he and Tilly exchanged a glance. “I’m fine with pizza, honestly. If there’s something I don’t like, I’ll pick it off.”
Tilly’s hand shot up like a kid in class. “Oooh, me! Pick me!”
Ted rolled his eyes, but waved a hand at Tilly to speak.
She turned and leaned forward toward Betsy. “Honey, this isn’t a dictatorship. If you don’t like pizza, or don’t want pizza, or specifically don’t want something on your pizza, say so.”
How long had it been before now since she’d had a choice? “Do they make a white sauce pizza?” she timidly asked, hating the way her voice sounded.
“They do,” Ted said. “A very good one. Would you prefer white sauce?”
She nodded. “Please. And I like mushrooms.”
“Sounds good to me. We have sodas, water, and tea, or coffee, here at the office. Is that all right?”
Betsy nodded.
“Good. Let me get it ordered and we’ll get started.”
Tilly reached over and patted her on the leg. “See? That was easy. Baby steps.”
Betsy thought about her sore right ankle. “It’s about the only kind I can take right now.”
* * * *
Betsy had never seen a counsellor before, had no experience with t
he process whatsoever. She wasn’t even sure what to expect and sat there nervously picking at her cuticles while Ted ordered the pizza.
With that done, Ted surprised her by starting with one simple question.
“Where do you see yourself in one year?”
She looked up when she realized he was talking to her. “Me?”
He nodded. “You.”
A flurry of flippant lines crossed through her brain but she caught herself. Jack had hated her one-liners, her quips, her comebacks.
She’d been backhanded plenty of times when she’d said something without thinking about it. Things others had always laughed over. She loved making people laugh.
With Jack, she’d learned to stay quiet.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
Ted didn’t say anything. He simply looked at her as if expecting her to continue.
“I really don’t know,” she said.
He arched an eyebrow but didn’t speak. Even Tilly remained uncharacteristically silent next to her.
Betsy thought about it and finally said the first thing that came to mind. “A year ago, if you’d told me I’d be sitting right here, under these circumstances, I would have said you were nuts. That I’d let a guy do this to me? No flipping way.”
“Were you involved in BDSM a year ago?” Ted asked.
“I’d just started, yeah. Had been to a few munches. A couple of classes. I knew this was what I wanted. Not this, obviously. But BDSM. I wanted a loving Dominant who’d respect my boundaries and make me feel safe.”
“Why?”
She blinked, staring at him. “Why what?”
“Any of that. Why?”
“I don’t know.”
He leveled his gaze at her. Now she felt a little of his Dom stepping out of the shadows and into view. She suspected this wasn’t something that normally happened with his other clients.
“Look me in the eyes,” he said, “and as soon as I finish asking the question, you immediately answer me with the first thing that comes to mind without censoring yourself or thinking about it, okay?”