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“Well you should be who you are and who you want. Because that is who got you where you are right now. In your success... in your life.... in this moment...”

I surprise myself at the certainty of my words. The months of heartbreak I had been going through was me doing just that. Feeling worthless, insignificant like I couldn’t imagine surviving in my world, and I was drowning. I wanted so much to be myself and continue on in my life, however I couldn’t seem to find my way. I was trapped, going through the motions playing out my horror story over and over. I too, wanted to feel significant again – feel like I mattered. To feel like I could have a life, other than the one I had pictured; that it was possible.

I could.

Why can I now just see that?

I beam enormously. It was a revelation. Perhaps that was this fierce intensity I felt when I met Jay that very first evening. On some deep, profound level, despite us being worlds apart – we were the same.

“God you are so beautiful,” he states interrupting my meditations and instantly I flush all over.

“So, when was the last time you came out here?” I scramble trying to distract myself from my heated cheeks. He glances away from me, pondering whilst taking in the scenery. Sitting here taking in the view of him laying beside me, so long and effortlessly sexy. For the first time I could really appreciate how attractive he was. He
looked
like a freaking rock star. I smile in a daydream just absorbing him. Every. Single. Inch.

“Shit. Ages... three years,” he hesitates sombrely. His tone enough to shake me from my daze as I feel the air change between us. Before I can stop myself, I am already forging ahead with more queries.

“What made you not want to come back here?”

I take a deep breath, staring at him eagerly awaiting his response. My thoughts buzzing about the reasons he didn’t think it was possible to live the way he wanted to anymore, and why he lost his faith in what this place means to him.

He takes a burdened breath. “Tahlia.”

Focusing on the ‘T’ and the way his voice broke a little, was like he hadn’t mentioned that name for some time. Perhaps it was painful memory for him, a memory that he didn’t want to remember. I shudder.

Tahlia?

Who the fuck is Tahlia?

Preparing myself for the 'X-Files' I realise that this conversation could get deep, profoundly deeper than I would be prepared to talk about myself right now. But intrigued by his confession I couldn’t help but press on.

“Who’s Tahlia?”

I notice him shift uncomfortably, regretfully – like he hated himself for mentioning her.

“She was.....” he pauses as I stare ever so intently on him. “She was just a girl.”

He stands immediately and offers his outstretched forearm, his eyes returning to their usual standoffish way. “We should go.”

Now?!

I was almost ready to hear about this woman who tore him away from his favourite place and the chance for him to live the way he wanted. He has basically baited me with this information and left me hanging impatiently. I can’t help but let out an over-the-top sigh, hoping he notices my disappointment as I reach up from my seated state slinging my wedges in my free hand. He pulls me up beside him and I sway from side to side uncomfortable on my bloodied toes.

Ouch.

They are definitely a little tender.

“Here.”

In one swoop he sweeps me up again in his capable arms and I fumble my free hand around his neck, not relishing in the closeness of our bodies and the sensations that accompany it. Suddenly realising he is going to carry me all the way down the hill, I blush and begin to refute.

“Please Jay. I can manage. Honestly. You don’t need to carry me,” I stumble panicked. The girlie insecurities about how heavy I would be when his usual companions would be lucky to weigh the same as an infant, rise to the surface.

“I can’t have you walk down there without footwear and you can’t put those shoes on either,” he states, as he begins heading towards the grassy decent.

“Seriously Jay I can.....”

“Penelope,” he interjects.

Case closed.

From his tone, I don’t continue to debate. I hang on begrudgingly as images of the gorgeous models and actresses that he has been snapped with on the internet, fill my mind uncomfortably.

When we finally reach the bottom, he doesn’t put me back down until we are at the passenger door to his SUV. As I glance around I am a little surprised to see that the gravel car park is still empty and at the same understand why this secluded spot used to be so important to him. I can imagine that finding somewhere outside the comfort of his own home where he can be by himself - would not be easy. As I hop into the vehicle and drop my wedges to the floor, I inspect my feet which are a pretty horrific picture. The dirt stuck to the wetness of the blood, has dried it into a blackened red, making them look like I ran through a bed of thorns.

“You might have to get them looked at.”

I tear my gaze from the bloodied mess to Jay, as he takes his place in the driver’s seat beside me. I smile convincingly.

“I’m okay. Really, they just need a good soak,” I answer, trying to rid the images of those perfect women who would never have had paraded such ugly feet in front of him. He turns his attention to his phone that seems to be silently buzzing in the centre console of the dashboard. He picks it up immediately.

“What,” he snaps.

I listen closely to see if I can make out the other voice, but it’s only distorted mumble.

“Yes, BarEnz. I haven’t forgotten. We are on our way now.”

I stare obviously at him while he is listening to his caller, his expression tensing with each and every second that passes.

“Yes,” he replies, before looking at me awkwardly and turning toward his door. “
We
.” He gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

Shit, was he talking about me?

Who is he talking to?

I silence everything I possibly can to try and hear what he is saying, but he is talking too softly for me to hear anything. I keep my eyes fixed on him, perhaps to decipher his facial expressions or learn the art of lip reading this very instant. He glances towards me and looks painfully sad, hauntingly sad. I swallow heavily.

After a few stiff paces in front of the car and kicking his boots at the random small rocks, he puts his phone back in his pocket and heads towards his door; halting for a minute before climbing back in. I keep my eyes glued to him and watch as he automatically fastens his belt over his lap and starts the engine.

“E-everything okay?” I ask shakily. The air in the car suddenly feeling awkward and uneasy, a sizeable contrast to what happened earlier.

“Yes,” he responds sharply.

As we speed off, dust whizzing around us furiously, I feel ill. I have been getting used to his mood swings, well kind of used to them, but this was something entirely different. Something I haven’t witnessed so far. I try to take my attention off him and look outside my window to my surroundings, but my mind can’t pre-occupy itself. Not whilst there is such agonising uneasiness in the air and despite my better judgement, I find myself unable to help but break the silence.

After all, I couldn’t make it any worse could I?

I edge an obvious throaty cough. “So where are we going?”

Subtle Penny. Real Subtle.

I roll my eyes.

Silence.

“Jay?” I ask tentatively.

He shakes his head as if deep in his own thoughts and miles away from me. “What?” he asks unaware.

“Where are we going?” I repeat slowly.

“I have something I need to do tonight, a work function if you will….” he starts cautiously before my over-anxiousness interrupts him.

“Sounds great. I would love to.”

He glances at me, peripherally, still keeping his head focused towards the road ahead. “I ah, thought you might want to go back to the hotel and rest. You have cut your feet up a little, so it might be best to stay off them and I can meet you afterwards.”

I squirm uncomfortably. His tone is cold and insincere. The man who had opened up to me in his favourite spot has vanished into thin air. This one was professional Jay. Routine Jay. The man who had shut himself off from the world for reasons I am still yet to discover in full. The thoughts surrounding me make me sad and in direct response I reach over to his forearm which is gripping the wheel. I gently wrap my fingers around him emotionally.

“My feet are okay. Really.”

He glances at my touch and shrugs me off him immediately making me feel further uncomfortable. I’m mortified that my bold action has been rejected.

“I insist Penelope. Please. I need to take you back. Now.”

I don’t reply. It takes everything inside me not to fall into character and listen to my scar beckon. For the remainder of the journey I grip my stomach just wishing the car would stop already. Jay is so rigid, so callous, and distant – I feel sick. As we approach the valet I am already unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for the handle before the car has come to its complete stop.

“Penelope.”

Jay reaches for my arm that rests on the seat beside me. I'm already facing the door ready to make my hasty exit. The shivers throughout my body explode at his sudden touch and the hovering tear breaks through the dam wall.

“I will come back later, when I am finished alright?”

There is a needing sound to his voice like he is utterly torn, but I am too emotional at this point to care. I shrug him off and leap out of the car, never once turning to look at him, and allow the water to trickle down my cheeks. Before I have time to even contemplate letting him see the hurt he has caused me after he so openly told me he never wanted to - I feel the breeze from his moving car as he speeds away.

He was gone.

After soaking in the hotel bath for almost an hour I had made such an effort not to think about him. The abruptness of him dropping me back to the hotel after his strange phone call, the sudden mood change - it was all too uncomfortable. I glance down at my feet as I raise them slightly out of the bubble filled tub to see they have returned to normal. The dried blood and dirt has been replaced with wrinkly skin, from the lengthy soak and the blisters look fresh and pale.

Damn it!

What’s with him?!

I splash my foot angrily back into the bath, allowing the water to spill over the edges from its force.

Why fly me over here, only to leave me here on my last night?

It doesn’t make any sense.

I’ve been here for hours and I still haven’t heard from him. My eyes drift to the scattered empty bottles of alcohol I had consumed from the mini bar, but unlike numerous times before – I don’t feel guilty about my drinking. I am far too agitated to think of anything else right now.

Made some rubbish excuse about my feet and it being a work function.

Is he ashamed of me?

Does he not want people to see me with him?

But I didn’t need to go in as anyone in particular!

It’s not like we are even dating really....

Are we?

UGH!!

My anxiety is out of control and without my mobile I am unable to call Rosie and hash it all out with her either. Not knowing what to do and in my over-emotive state - I make a rash decision. I hop out of the bath, not even bothering to let out the water and grab the nearest towel. As I hastily make my way to the foyer, slipping on the tiles from my still drenched heels, I pick up the phone which sits on the delicate side table.

“Good evening Ms Price, how may I help you?”

“Yes, hello. Can you please call a taxi, I mean a cab. Immediately please,” I state confidently.

“Of course Ms Price I will call them now and charge it to the room for you.”

“Thank you.”

He can afford it
, adds my evil conscious.

By the time I make my way to the valet area outside the hotel, the cab is already waiting. I didn’t bother to do my makeup or even dry my hair; I only piled it high on my head into a loose knot and downed another shot of alcohol. I straighten my posture and adjust my white cropped blouse, the same one I wore the first night we met and get into the backseat of the cab. The door open courtesy of the bellboy.

“Enjoy your evening Ms Price.”

I smile towards him as he closes the cab door.

“Where to Miss?”

As I recall the conversation I heard while he was on the phone earlier, the only part I remember besides his frosty reception, was a name.

Here goes.

“Umm, BarEnz?”

I hope that’s an actual place.

“I don’t have an address though,” I add quickly.

The driver chuckles. “I know where it is. That is a very popular club here.”

As he speeds off and turns up the radio, my thoughts are already in over drive.

Is he going to be mad that I followed him?

Should I really be doing this?

Should I have stayed at the hotel till later like he asked me to?

NO!

He is the one that wanted me to come here!

Why come here to sit alone in a hotel?!

Nervously my hands are fumbling in my lap, my heart is racing erratically and my head is frantically running over the entire day’s events. What feels like moments later, the pounding in my chest becomes louder, deafening me as the vehicle stops.

“Here you go Miss. BarEnz.”

Can I do this?

“Thank you.”

I step carefully out of the taxi ignoring the gentle sway of my alcohol-induced body and notice the blaring music thumping from the building. I am surprised to see it's almost a run-down looking warehouse and as I glance at my surroundings, I notice other similar concrete boxes. If it weren’t for the masses of people hovering outside, I would be thinking I could get kidnapped out here and no one would even hear my screams! As I eye the individuals loitering around outside I wrap my arms self consciously around my stomach. They are immaculately dressed and are all glamorously attractive. They look like the types of models you would see in the likes of Vogue or on a New York runway. I awkwardly re-adjust my outfit, as I feel way out of my league coming here especially on my own, but without any other real option and probably due to some liquid confidence, I had come too far to not continue. I impulsively make my way toward the front door and am surprised that the bouncer doesn’t even ask me for ID. He simply opens the door to let me pass and straight away the sounds I heard outside are overbearing. My immediate reaction is to cover my ears to help conceal this noise they obviously call music; but at the slight chance I would stand out for the wrong reasons – well more than I do already, I resist.

I manoeuvre skilfully through the mass crowd which feels endless. The smell of smoke, alcohol and probably party drugs surrounds me and I begin to worry that perhaps I may have come to the wrong place. Seeing everyone sway hazily around to the strange beat makes me think that this isn’t the kind of place he would even come to. Especially since he did say it was a work function.