Day and Night Ch. 04

Quick word before we dive in.

Thank you to everyone who commented on the first three chapters. I absolutely love reading the comments (they keep me going) even if they are less than stellar because I'm always trying to improve. Case in point: this is an ongoing re-write and soft edit of the story formally known as Flirting the Fence. The characters are the same as is the plot and general trajectory of the story, but everything is a bit crisper and the characters have more depth.

On that note, I'm going to go ahead and put a warning on this chapter. Beth experiences domestic violence first hand that may be triggering for some people. Similarly, Day has a reaction to the police that—if you are a person of color—you might have experienced and might trigger you.

It would be wonderful if you left a comment, sent me a message, rated this story, and checked out my other work. But no pressure.

And one last thing, I've turned my profile into an FAQ page (sort of) since I've gotten several emails about other stories and what not. So, that's there to check out if you're interested.

On to the story!

-RSP

***

"He's asleep," Day murmured into the phone, startling Beth out of her reading. She looked up from her tablet as his face filled the screen: haggard, scruffy, but nonetheless handsome. Five days hadn't killed her attraction to Day or the tentative connection they had in each other's lives.

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't actually returned to her normal life. Setting her tablet on the hotel desk, she grabbed her phone and wandered onto her bed. Folding her legs under her, she watched Day as he moved around Brian's room: tucking him in, turning on the night light, putting away the book, and finally pulling the door nearly closed.

In the time she'd gone back to the apartment, found no fiancée and no ability to deal with where their relationship stood, she'd packed a suitcase and moved into a hotel. It was a very temporary fix as her finances dwindled, and the foreign escape of a hotel room was starting to feel more like a jail cell. Why should she have left her own home? Why did she leave the first time and why now?

But that running was ingrained in her. She'd run from Mike Brandish when he'd told Beth he liked her. Then, ran from Indianapolis after her brother died. Now she was running from a future she'd thought was made of stones but was barely held together with wet sand.

The only things that made this hotel-venture even remotely tolerable were Brian and Day. The kid loved to read and called her nightly for a story. The first few nights Day had been surly, though she couldn't blame him. But they'd gotten to know each other when Brian fell dead to the world halfway through the story. Day was growing on her, and Beth was pretty sure she was growing on him.

She'd extended the olive branch by asking how his day was that first night, and the ritual just stuck. The sights of the living room gave way to the hallway as Day made his way to his room. "Rough day?" she asked, as he propped his phone near the bed before collapsing onto the mattress.

"Meetings, lawyers, contracts," he said around a yawn, throwing his arm across his eyes.

She looked at what she could see of his body: shaved head, wife-beater stretched across his thick chest, just the hint of the thick cock he hid in his pants.

Ugh, when did I become such a perv. So they'd slept together? So what? Yeah, maybe it had been the best sex of her life, and his son was the most adorable thing on two legs, and there was an obvious connection between them. But that didn't mean anything. Connections of the heart never lasted. If they did, Beth'd still be kissing the magazine cutout of Johnny Depp she had as a teenager.

"How was your day?"

"Not bad. The project I'm working on is fairly simple and the client hasn't turned out to be a primadonna yet. But I'm not holding my breath."

"The Erikson one, right?"

Beth nodded before I realized he couldn't see her with his arm covering his eyes. "Uh-huh. And how are you? Generally."

He sighed deeply before rolling over to face her and propping his head on his hand. "We saw Shontell's mother today. I got her in a nursing home, but Brian doesn't like going there. Reminds him too much of the hospital visits. Same smell."

"That sucks." She paused before plowing on, "For a few years after my brother died, I had panic attacks."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm. They would hit at the strangest times, and I couldn't figure out what was triggering them until I went to a therapist." Looking across the room to the black and white, blown up image of the New York skyline, Beth tried to order her thoughts. "Guilt. Just so much guilt that I was alive when he wasn't. Guilt that I was doing all the things he couldn't do. Guilt that I was moving on."

"Beth, look at me."

She did, keeping a tight hold on her emotions. She knew Day could take them, absorb her pain and say the right things and make it better. But that wasn't his job. It wasn't fair of her to put weight on his already weighted shoulders just because it would make her feel better. Paul had been dead for a few years and Beth had made peace with it. She'd gone through the stages, had time lesson the wound, and all the other obligatory horridness that went with losing a part of your soul.

But it always came back. Paul had been crystal that'd slipped from her hands and broken into a million pieces. Beth always thought she'd cleaned up every pit of glass, every jagged edge and moved on. But every so often she'd get stabbed by a hidden wayward piece hidden and the pain who be instantaneous and brutal.

"I feel it too," he said quietly, acknowledging his feelings. It was strange. Day came off as this rock: the stereotypical man's man who kept his emotions in a titanium box at the bottom of the ocean. But that wasn't him; he was all emotions. Everything simmering just under the surface. Just had an incredible poker face. "Anger and guilt and fear. We didn't have enough time together. I don't know how to raise a kid. It's all there, all the time, and I just have to keep dragging it along so it doesn't hold me back."

"Your wife must have been one hell of a psychologist."

He laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She had a shelf just filled with awards and achievements and half a wall with the scientific journals that printed her research. Shontell was incredible."

They stared at each other, neither feeling pressured to break the silence. There was more to say, questions to ask, because Beth wasn't sure what they were doing. The sex could be explained away, just like eveything from that night and morning. But five days later? Video-chatting his son to read stories before bed, and then decompressing with Day about their days and real-talking for over an hour most nights? That was something else, and Beth wasn't sure she was ready to deal with it.

"I'm probably going to go back—back home," she stuttered, forcing the words out. "Tomorrow."

Day nodded, rolling onto his back again. "Probably a good choice. Get back to your life."

"At least give it a try." The words tasted like saw dust. That wasn't what she wanted to do and this wasn't anything she wanted to say. Not to him.

"Just," he paused, searching for the words on the ceiling, "Just be careful."

Day didn't know how loaded that statement was. She'd met Jason at a friend of a friend's Fourth of July barbeque. She'd been ten months into New York life and still trying to find the city paraded in magazines, TV shows, and movies. So far all she'd gotten were suffocating working hours, shoe-box sized apartments, and people willing to screw anyone over if it got them ahead.

The barbeque was hosted by Iowans, the email messages promising home cooking and classic lawn games. Beth had arrived with Ty and his boyfriend, melting in seamlessly to the crowd of red, white, and blue party-goers. It'd been just what she needed, and when a tall, handsome stranger had started chatting her up it was like the stars aligned.

Aligned and freaking blinded me.

She saw the beers he drank like water, simply writing it off as a high tolerance. And when he got loud and boisterous, knocking into people, she chalked it up to Fourth of July shenanigans. Because he was too perfect. With his hair, teeth, and last name.

Even the night ended perfectly. He asked for her number, put her in a cab and paid for it in advance. Texted her to make sure she got home safe even. Texted her the next day to ask for a date. All the boxes were checked, so she didn't look for what wasn't on that list.

Not until she found him passed out drunk in the living room after she came back late New Year's Day from Indiana. They'd fought. He'd broken a lamp. And that was the first time she was really scared of Jason. Scared of what he could do—everything he could do. He checked all the boxes, but those traits could easily be turned against her. Would people believe her if she said he hit her? Would they care? Would he do it? Would she let him to keep everything they'd built together?

All the signs Beth'd ignored had come crashing down like hail and he'd seen that realization cross her face. Seen it and flinched. Then came the drunken explanations. Never real apologies, but more meandering promises. The 'I don't know what I was thinking, but I know I'd never do that. You know I'd never do that.'

The hail melted. Of course it did, because this was her life. She wouldn't throw away her life over possibilities that might never happen. She'd made sure they never happened. "Stop drinking." Two words that lead to an even harder five months. But they'd been getting through it. Or so Beth thought.

"I'm always careful."

Day turned and gave her an incredulous look, a reminder of how they'd first met shining in his eyes. "You need anything, you call me."

"And you'll come rescue me?" she snickered, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah," his voice took on a serious note, forcing her to look back at him and see the truth on his face. "I will.

***

Beth swiped her credit card, entered the pin, grabbed her rolling duffle bag, and stepped out of the taxi with a murmured, "Thanks."

Since she'd started living with Jason nearly seven months ago, she'd never been scared to come home. Worried. Sure. Excited? Of course. But terrified? Never. Yet, there she stood, knuckles white around the handle of her bag trying to talk herself into going inside her own home.

"Beth!" a voice called, startling her. She turned to see her neighbor, Virginia Holiday, watching briskly down the street with her toy poodle cradled in her arms. In all the time she'd been living at The Winterfield apartment complex, Beth had yet to see that poodle touch the ground. Walked in a stroller, carried in her arms, or fastened against a chest? Of course. But never four legs on concrete and dirt.

"Virginia," Beth greeted with faux cheer. It was expected of her to acknowledge the woman who'd been born into privilege and influence just like Jason. She had to know how to navigate his world perfectly, because bluebloods were sharks just waiting for blood. "How are you this afternoon?"

The woman flipped back her blonde extensions, giving as much as a smile as the Botox allowed. She thought the cosmetic surgeries made her look younger than her fifty some-odd years. They didn't.

"Fine. Fine." Her eyes zeroed in on Beth's bag. "Coming back from a trip, dear?"

"A small work event."

"Strange." Her mouth formed into a moue. "Jason didn't mention anything about it at the fundraiser. You remember, the one for New York's disenfranchised youth. We missed you there, Beth."

"Well—"

"In fact," she continued and Beth narrowed her eyes, knowing that this wasn't a quick chat but an attempt to gather gossip. "Jason said you were sick in bed."

Beth's response was a stilted smile.

Flipping her hair again, Virginia stroked a manicured hand from the dog's head to tail. "In any case, I'm glad you're feeling well. It was such a pleasure to meet Simone. A miracle how Jason was able to snag such a... vivacious woman last minute."

These games were getting old. Way too old. Ever since she'd started dating Jason and transitioned to his fiancée, she was poked, prodded, and tested. Thinly veiled insults, gauntlet thrown down, accusations tossed with careless glee.

Virginia had never worked. She'd been born into wealth and all its games. She'd married the man her parents choose. Lived a life of luxury, boredom, and unfulfillment. Not for the first time, Beth saw this woman as a potential future. Would she become this harpy when she married Jason? Would their children be the type to throw money at a fundraiser simply so they could say they were 'good people'?

No. Money doesn't make people monsters, it just brings out what's already there and amplifies it.

"If you'll excuse me, Virginia, I need to get inside and unpack. I'm exhausted from travel."

"Well, of course you are." She smiled all shiny, straight, overly-perfect teeth. "Say hi to Simone for me. I don't believe I saw her leave this morning."

"Of course," I gritted, feeling a flush spread across my cheeks. She knows! She knows and now she's just taunting me. "I'll be sure to."

Beth forced herself to walk into the apartment complex, aware of the woman behind her and all the connections she had at the tip of her fingers. It chafed that she couldn't tell her off, that Beth had to play the stupid game.

None of the bullshit felt worth it. None of it felt equal to Jason Brucksworth II.

Thanking the doorman, Beth made her way to the bank of elevators and up to the 13th floor. As the floors dinged by, her anxiety rocketed. Simone was there. There was no doubt that someone in the lobby would have texted Virginia if she'd left. More gossip, and a nice chunk of change for the person who reported it.

No, Jason and Simone were there. They'd been to the fundraiser. So what was left of Beth's relationship with Jason? He'd already moved on, replaced her with a better model. Simone was an L.A. transplant; all beachy, sun kissed waves, perfect tan, and breathy voice. She'd been the fun girl in Beth's small group of girlfriends. They'd met at hot yoga, the one and only time Beth had gone.

Simone was all drama and stories and it was fun in a cringy, unbelievable kind of way. The stories she told were out there—things Beth would never do. For a while, lonely in New York, it was fun to live vicariously through Simone. Proximity made them friends, and longevity tacked on 'best'.

Stepping off the elevator, Beth steeled herself. There was no running away. Not now. She'd have to face them both eventually, and clean clothes waited behind the door. Everything was going to suck, but at least this time she knew what she was walking into. Didn't make it better or even bearable, but not getting blindsided meant she could control her reactions. Work face firmly in place—the smile she wore when clients quibbled about the length of a runner or the eggshell looking different on the entire wall than it did on a small portion of it—she turned the lock and opened the door.

For a few seconds, she waited at the threshold, wondering if Simone would stroll out in one of Jason's button-downs just to make a scene. But that didn't happen. The apartment was eerily still, almost like the air was holding its breath.

Nope. That's me.

Beth started to kick off her shoes out of habit, but stopped. Ugh. The uncertainty of everything was killing her. Jason and Simone were there. Had to be. So instead of tiptoeing around like a burglar in her own home, Beth decided to grab the bull by the horns. If they were fucking, it wasn't like she hadn't already seen it.

Striding across the apartment, she took one last look around. The place was beautiful in postmodern elements with a black and chrome color scheme. Everything was slick and smooth, chosen by her to be tasteful and elegant. At the time, it had seemed stupid to charge Jason for her design services. Sure, he was her boyfriend, but his apartment was going to be her home.

Now, as she looked around, all she saw was the energy she wasted, the time.

So much time that she wasn't getting back.

Sitting in that cool hotel room, Beth had really considered taking Jason back and moving on with her life. Afterall, he'd made one mistake. The drinking had been fixed, he'd got help. The sex was good. Her life was fantastic. Being Jason Brucksworth's fiancée had opened so many avenues and doors that she never would have been exposed to. Wasn't the gain bigger than the loss?

No.

Looking at the place she'd called home for almost a year, Beth realized the loss was the most valuable assets she had: her time. She'd convinced herself that Jason was the best option, because ostensibly he was. That didn't make him good. No, it made him a recovering alcoholic, living on his name and his inheritance, swimming in the pool of privilege and prosperity he'd had from birth.

Never once had he come to Indiana with her. Never once had he tried to understand her working class upbringing spent between her grandfather's farm and the casino where her mother waitressed. Never once had he worked to understand and contribute to her world.

"Please."

The soft, scared plea stopped Beth in her tracks as she moved toward the bedroom door. Suddenly, the thought of actually seeing them fucking again didn't hold as much appeal. Maybe I should just—

The sound of flesh hitting flesh startled her, the rough grunt and words following turning her blood to ice, "Shut the fuck up! I'm so sick of hearing your voice."

"Jason..."

Another hud.

"You think my parents are gonna accept you?" he laughed loudly as he spat the slurred words. "Beth was perfect. Was gonna get me the rest of my money. You? My father froze my fucking accounts because of you."

Something broke and Beth ran forward. Her mind was screaming at her to franuck, but every shred of decency she had urged her forward. Throwing the door wide, she paled at the sight of Jason standing over a prone Simone. Blood on his shirt, on his fists. His eyes were unfocused, body swaying as he tried to hold the domineering pose.

His reaction time was horrible as he finally turned to look at her, rubbing at bloodshot eyes. "Beth? Is 'at you?"

Get him away from Simone NOW! Her mind screamed even as every cell in her body recoiled at the idea. But Jason wouldn't hurt her. As Beth's eyes skidded to Simone's battered body, she ixnayed that idea.

"Jason," Beth kept her voice low and soft as she inched her cellphone out of her back pocket, rapidly clicking the power button. "What are you doing?"

He spread his arms wide and stumbled over Simone. "You came back! You're fucking late, Beth. You missed the fundser."

Taking a step back, Beth tried to lure him away from Simone. "Uh-huh."

"And I took that bitch," he seethed turning to glare at the woman again.

"Jason!" She caught his attention as his expression went from confusion to fury.

"You left me. Didn't even gimme a chance to 'splain."

The runner of the hallway was under her feet and she turned right, leading him into the living room. "I was shocked."

"Fuck you, Beth!" he screamed, startling her. "You left. And my dad liked you so much. Because of the no drinkin'. But I drinks with Simone. And he cut me off. My money, Beth. You stole my fucking money!"