Surrender (18 page)

“Get away from me!”

He grins—those gold teeth are all I can see. He reaches for my hair, but before he can grab it, he’s yanked backward. I see Wesley and Winston. Then I see Garrick. He’s holding the guy by the front of his shirt, punching him repeatedly in the face.
Oh. My. God.
Blood gushes from the guy’s nose and mouth. Winston pulls me to my feet.

“Come on, Robyn.” He looks around worriedly. “This place is gonna detonate in two minutes.” He hooks his arm firmly around my shoulders.

My thoughts whirl uncontrollably. “Where’s Macey?” And I don’t want to leave without Garrick.

“My brother will grab her,” he says. Winston pivots left, so we’re standing in front of the emergency exit. When he kicks it open, the alarm sounds. We’re outside—a few minutes later Macey and Wesley join us. “Take her, bro.” Winston delivers me into his twin’s custody, then sprints for the door.

Tears burn my eyes.
Where’s Garrick?
I try to follow Winston, but Wesley stops me instantly. “Stay here, Robyn. There’s nothing you can do.”

I’m covered in blood. After I threw the first punch, the whole place exploded in violence—a barroom brawl. Winston appears and grabs me by the arm.

“Let’s go—the cops are on their way,” Winston warns.

I trail him through the chaos, the red neon exit sign over the main door our target. He guides me around the west side of the building, where my truck and friends are waiting. Wesley and Macey are standing outside the open passenger door, with Robyn sitting inside. The minute she sees me, she gets out and runs to me. I open my arms. “Come here, baby.”

I embrace her. Then I pull away, assessing her condition. There’s a large tear in her dress near the left shoulder, and her hair is loose. “Are you hurt?”

She nods, staring at the ground. After spending all this time with her, I’m accustomed to her body language. That means
Yes, but I don’t want to tell you.
 

I’m not mad at her. “Tell me.”

She cups her left hand. “My wrist is broken.”

“Let me see it.” She holds it up. It’s swollen and bruised. Her wrists are no larger than a ten-year-old’s, so it wouldn’t take much to snap her delicate bones. “We’re going to the hospital.” She frowns, but I won’t take no for an answer. I’m going to take care of her.

“No one has
ever
protected me like that.” She’s wide-eyed and surprisingly calm.

Her amazement is both aggravating and humbling. What kind of father and brothers does she have? Didn’t they stand up for her as a kid? What kind of loser boyfriends did she date? It’s not the right time to ask those questions. I want to know, but she’s been through a lot tonight.

I shake hands with my buddies. “Thanks, man.” Macey stays with Wesley. “I’ll call you as soon as we’re done.” I climb in my truck. Three squad cars speed by as we turn onto South Padre Island Drive. “Which hospital, darlin’?”

“I don’t have insurance, Garrick. I can’t afford to go to the ER.”

Does she think I’ll let her go without medical treatment? “I’ll pay for it.”

I see her shaking her head in my periphery. She’s the most stubborn little thing I’ve ever known. “Yes. Pick.” It’s settled in my mind.

She crosses her arms over her chest, wincing in pain. “Fine. Go to Driscoll Hospital—my mom is on the late shift.”

We arrive at the hospital and I park. There’s a clean shirt in my gym bag. I reach over the seat to grab it and change. I don’t want her mother to see me covered in blood. Robyn looks petrified. “Come on.” I take her good hand and she slides across the seat, exiting on the driver’s side.

“Garrick,” she stops midway, “I can’t let my mother see me this way.”

I look her over. Her dress is trashed. I run my fingers through her hair—better. Her makeup is smudged a bit, nothing major. “She’ll understand.”

“Hah! You’ve never met her.”

Something inside tells me I don’t want to. We go through the main entrance. The waiting room is pretty empty. We walk to the administrative area. There are half a dozen glass-encased cubicles and an open reception area. The secretary recognizes Robyn.

“Here to see your mother?” she asks.

Robyn nods. “Is she still here?”

“Her shift ended an hour ago; she’s in her office doing paperwork.” She waves us back, pressing a button underneath her desk. The automatic doors swing open. Robyn leads me down a long hallway. There are offices on both sides. We stop midway and I notice the brass nameplate on the closest door:
Dr. Andrea Gonzalez, MD.
Robyn knocks.

“Come in.”

Robyn goes first. I lurk in the doorway.

“Robyn?” Her mother stands. “What happened?”

“I fell down, Mom. I think I broke my wrist.” She offers her injured wrist for inspection.

Instead of fawning over her as any mother would, Dr. Gonzalez puts on her best
I’m a bitch
face. It makes me sick. “Out drinking? Serves you right.” She examines Robyn’s hand for a split second. “I doubt it’s broken.”

That’s it? No X-rays? No hug?
My blood pressure spikes. I bite my tongue, then fold my hands behind my back. I try to envision my own mother treating me that way. I can’t. It would never have happened.

“I just want you to check it out before I go home,” Robyn requests.

“Before I do anything,” she says, “go to the bathroom across the hall and wash that makeup off your face. I don’t want anyone to see you this way.”

Robyn sighs, hanging her head. In seconds, this woman has reduced my brilliant girlfriend to a pile of emotional mush.
Not okay.
I step deeper inside. I deflect Dr. Gonzalez’s repugnant stare. “Come on, baby,” I say without introducing myself. “We’ll go to a
real
hospital.” I gently persuade Robyn to leave her mother’s office.

“She’s going to kill me—I won’t get to see Marisela for a year if she has her way,” she says.

I’m at a loss for words. Mothers and daughters should be close. I want Robyn to feel loved—safe. The way Gretchen felt growing up. What can I do? I stop. “Come here, baby.”

She turns around, shakes her head, and glances up. I hug her.

“Sorry you had to witness that,” she says. She’s embarrassed. “I’m frustrated and pissed.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I assure her. All my protective instincts spark to life. I pull back and take her hand. Fifteen minutes later, we park at Spohn Hospital.

Chapter Seventeen

We’re back at my place after spending three hours in the ER getting X-rays and a soft cast put on. Robyn is upstairs taking a shower.

“I don’t understand,” Gretchen says, joining me in the living room. “She’s a trouble magnet. Are you really going to pursue this relationship, Garrick?”

I’m not surprised by her reaction. It’s hard for a girl like Gretchen to understand Robyn. Gretchen has never gone without a family or love. “She’s innocent. If I thought for a second she did anything to instigate that fight, I’d be the first one to question her.”

Gretchen shifts on the sofa cushion. “Every time I turn around she’s being chased or attacked—it’s surreal. Like a movie. I’m deeply sorry her mother treated her the way she did. My heart breaks for her in that respect. But . . .”

“Gretchen,” I say, resting my face in my hands. “I can’t condemn her for being beautiful.”

My sister slants her head. “You’re really in love with her.”

Isn’t it obvious? “Completely.”

“Does she know?”

“I can’t say.” I’ve been fascinated up to this point with how easily my heart opened up to Robyn. Gretchen’s blue eyes narrow. “Why spread the misery?” I ask.

She jeers. “Love isn’t supposed to be miserable, Garrick. I can’t remember any of our friends going through half the crap you are. It’s hard to sympathize with people when they won’t help themselves. If her job is so damned dangerous, why doesn’t she just quit stripping? That’s half the problem. Girls like that . . .”

I cut her off with a serious look. Where is this coming from? “Why are you opposed to her all of a sudden?” I ask. “Are you jealous?”

“Of what? Abusive men? Drug dealers? Barroom brawls? Don’t be stupid. I’m concerned about
you.
You’re thinking with your little head.”

Maybe I am.
Hell.
I hate Gretchen’s sudden disapproval and premature judgment. “She’s a good girl.”

“Not good enough for you. Think about it.”

I hear a strangled sob come from the hallway.
Shit.
I turn. Robyn is staring at us. I stand. “Baby—”

Gretchen bows her head.

“Don’t . . .” Robyn starts. She holds up her casted hand.

We’re only a couple of feet apart. “How long have you been standing here?” I ask, afraid she’s overheard everything.

“Long enough to know I’m no longer welcome here.” She turns to go.

“Robyn,” Gretchen calls, walking into the hallway. “I’m sorry.”

Robyn gazes over her shoulder, “Don’t ever apologize for being honest, Gretchen.” Robyn lifts her chin, a glint of rebellion in her eyes. “I’ve been on my own a long time.” She reaches behind her neck, then flinches in pain. I’m sure her wrist hurts. “Here.” She dangles the necklace I gave her in my face. “I didn’t ask you for
anything.
” I refuse to take it. She lets it drop on the floor.

She makes it halfway down the hall before I block her path. “Where are you going?”

“Where I belong,
my
home.”

“I don’t think so.” I grasp her arm. I won’t let her storm out of here without an explanation.
Damn Gretchen.

She lifts her head. “I’m tired of defending myself to you and my family. If you didn’t like what I do for a living, you should have thought twice before chasing me. That’s on you. And if you cared so much, this conversation would have never happened. Get out of my way.”

“How can you even say that?” I ask. “Haven’t I proven how much I care?”

She nods, but doesn’t say anything.
Actions speak louder than words, girl.
If she’d only set aside her pride for ten minutes, she’d see I’m right.

“Garrick,” Gretchen says. She’s standing behind Robyn now. “Let her go.”

“Both of you have a happy life.” Robyn jerks free, then storms away.

“Hey,” Gretchen starts, “I’m sorry . . .”

“Be quiet, Gretchen.” I give her an embittered look. “You’ve done enough damage for one night, don’t you think?” I can’t stay here. I want to smash something. I need a drink and time alone to think. I go outside.

I hurl myself on my bed.
Garrick.
Heartache descends on me like nightfall. There was no doubt Gretchen was telling the truth. She and Garrick are tight. They don’t mince words. And she’s not the type to speak off-the-cuff. To them I’m just a lowly little stripper. At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. I don’t pass judgment. I don’t do drugs, get drunk every day, or sell my body for money like so many of my coworkers do. I’m in school. I strive for bigger and better things. I’m entrepreneurial. Smart. Faithful. And totally miserable without him already.

I punch my pillows. “I can’t believe it.”

Hours ago we were playing. Enjoying music. Dancing seductively, his hard-on jammed against my backside. I love his body. I love
him.
He’s the first person to ever defy my mother, protect me from drunk guys, and show any real interest in my personal feelings and life. Why did he let his sister get away with bashing me? Why can’t he accept me for who I am? I’m so damned confused. I know he cares. But it’s too little too late. We’re done. Even if he came crawling back, I would never subject myself to that humiliation again. And maybe he deserves someone more conservative. The kind of girl he can be seen in public with. A teacher or attorney. Or Suzy Homemaker, the very thing my best friend accused me of being. I smack the wall with my good hand.

I’m not changing the course of my life because my boyfriend is a jealous control freak. My plans are made already. The ones I formulated the day my mother disowned me. I hate this city. I loathe the small-mindedness of the people who live here. The social divide. The hypocrisy. There’s a solution: finish my education and get the hell out. I need to put distance between my ex and me. I check my alarm clock. Ten. Plenty of time to get dressed.

An hour later, I drive into Lipstick Saloon’s parking lot. I’m impressed. It’s packed for a Sunday night. I lock my car and head to the entrance. The doorman IDs me and I go inside. There are three levels. I head to the bottom floor, where the main bar is located. I vaguely know the bar manager, Jeff. He’s shooting the shit with a customer and I wait impatiently. Once he finishes, he smiles at me.

“Robyn, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, offering my hand. “Are you hiring?”

His gaze sweeps over me. “Depends who’s asking.”

I know his personality type—slippery as a serpent. “
I’m
asking.”

“What happened at the Den?” he inquires.

In my business, everyone knows everything going on at the different clubs. “I need a change of scenery,” I fib.

“You’re a beautiful girl.” He fingers a strand of my hair. I go numb. I don’t want to be touched by a man ever again. “Be here Friday night and we’ll see how it goes.” He reaches behind the bar, grabs a pamphlet, hands it to me. “Read the rule book before your first shift starts. Is that injured hand going to be an issue?”

“No, just a bad sprain. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

He shrugs. “Want a drink?”

He doesn’t care that I’m underage. Most club managers don’t. “No,” I answer. “I have school tomorrow.” I feign a smile and leave.

As I walk to my car, my cellphone explodes. Three calls and five text messages in the span of five minutes. I let voice mail pick up, then scroll through the call list. Garrick. Macey. Garrick. I check my texts. I roll my eyes. Garrick is sorry:
Please come back—where are you?
Macey’s message is even more pathetic:
Please come home, Garrick wants to see you.
My ex must be hanging out with
my
best friend and her new lover—Wesley. I’m bitter.
Damn right I am.
I’m standing next to my car. I kick the rear tire. Now I know why I always look over my shoulder when things are going too well. I’m irrefutably cursed.