To Get Over Her Grief
A heavy click followed by a humming noise made her freeze. Then the lights flicker and go out.
Eloise covered her mouth to stop the screams as her hands shook violently and her teeth chattered. She pressed her back against the door for support.
A bright flicker off to the left draws her eye, but it quickly dies, replaced by a dull orange glow. Someone is standing about ten feet from her, smoking a fat cigar.
She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. When she opened them again, she met with a mean set of eyes inches from her face. She was unable to move.
She knew this man. She had seen him a few times before and thought he ran this place. He puffs away, filling her nose with the nauseating scent of his Montecristo. She’d know that smell anywhere. Her father often had parties, and they seemed to be the most popular cigar among his guests.
Her knees weaken as he continues to stare silently at her. She hears his shoulder shift in his jacket as his hand comes up and grips her chin tightly. He flicks open and ignites his Zippo with casual ease, holding it up to inspect the growing lump above her eye.
The light goes out, and she feels his vise-like grip move to the back of her neck as he pushes her to move forward. He obviously knows the building well since it is still pitch black, and he directs her without hesitation. All she can hear is her hammering heartbeat and her short, ragged breaths.
Finally, they stop at the door, and he pushes it open and tosses her inside. She stumbles forward and falls to her knees. Suddenly, the lights came on, and she came face to face with the fat man, whose neck was now wrapped in a white bandage.
He holds his belt in his hand, snapping it for more effect. The last thing she remembered was being pushed onto a couch and the first crack of the belt along her lower back. This kind of pain she’ll never forget; it is permanently embedded in her memory. Thankfully, she slipped away into a blissful place she welcomed with open arms.
She woke to blinding pain, the slightest movement causing her to sob, which hurt even more. Her brain is cloudy. She can barely form a thought; even breathing is tricky. It took her a few moments to realize she was back in prison, lying face down on the squeaky bed. She let go and allowed the tears to flow. She needed something to think about, something to focus on.
She remembers the first day she came here. Christ—it seems so long ago.
“Hello, my love,” Eloise purred to her Keurig as she placed her beloved mug, which read, “Don’t talk to me until this mug is empty,” underneath and pushed the button. Her friend Mary gets a kick because Eloise can’t function until she has at least one large cup of coffee in her. She bought this mug for her twenty-sixth birthday.
It was tucked inside a basket she had done up, along with an airline ticket to Fiji for the two of them to escape her crazy world.
‘Man, what a trip that was.’ She hears her front door open.
“You’re in for it now, Eloise!” Mary shouts as she comes into her kitchen. She holds up a magazine, showing Eloise the cover.
As soon as Eloise read the caption, she knew she was in deep shit.
“Oh, no!” she snatched it from Mary’s fingers.
“Oh, yes,” Mary sighs, passing by and opening a cabinet. “So, I take it he hasn’t called you yet?”
Eloise shakes her head as she studies the picture in horror. The media has a photo of her at a bar last night, leaning over a table and showing off her behind. The caption reads, “Mayor’s Daughter Reveals All.”
“I was reaching for my purse!” Eloise shout. “It isn’t even my butt—this has been Photoshopped.”
“I know that, but will Daddy dearest believe you?” Mary sips her coffee, eyeing Eloise with concern. “Maybe you should call him first. It might look better if you do.”
She and Mary have been friends forever. They met in middle school the day they got stuck in detention for running their mouths and have been fast friends ever since.
Mary rode the wave of fame and publicity right alongside her. She is Eloise’s rock as she is hers, and they both consider themselves the sisters they never had. Perhaps Mary has a point.
She tossed the magazine aside, reached for her purse, and pulled out her cell. Three rings later, she heard his voice.
“Dad. How are you this morning?” Silence grows on the other end of the line. “You there?”
“Any reason why I’m staring at my daughter on the front cover of another popular magazine?”
‘Damn!’
“Dad, look, you know I haven’t been out much. I’ve been so careful after what happened last year. But this isn’t what it looks like—”
“Save it, Eloise. Do you have any idea what kind of damage you cause me? Three people are working on this, wasting their time on this crap!”
“Dad, please let me explain—”
“No, we’ll discuss it tomorrow night at dinner.” The line goes dead.
Eloise tossed the phone on the counter and rubbed her face with both hands. Mary touches her back gently, giving her a few moments to process everything. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. Mary moves in front of her, getting her to look at her.
“Come on, Eloise, let’s get out of here.”
After a hot shower, Eloise started to come around a little. She pulled on her favorite navy-blue dress with black boots and a black pea coat.
“Okay, okay, stop fussing,” Mary groans from her door. “You look fine.”
“If I end up looking like I have a hangover and the media finds me, you know they’ll have a ball with the story.”
Mary grabs her shoulders and looks at her in the mirror. “Who cares what anyone thinks? Anyone who knows the real you knows you have a heart of gold…and a quick tongue to put people in their place.” She grins. “What’s not to love?”
“I am pretty great,” Eloise joke.
They link arms as they walk out the door. They have to sidestep two painters outside in the hall, and as Eloise pushed the button on the elevator, she glanced at one of the men. He’s wearing a massive belt buckle that reads ‘Texas’ with a longhorn head sticking out of the center.
“He’s a long way from home,” she muttered.
Mary shakes her head. “Oh, please.” She laughs, noting the direction of Eloise’s gaze. “They’re a dime a dozen at any market.” Mary hustles them into the elevator.
Eloise sighed, not eager to face the outdoors.
“Ready?” Mary slips on her sunglasses.
“I guess so.”
“Stop worrying, Eloise,” Mary says through a bagel bite. “Your dad will get over this. You know how he is.”
“I know. I hate disappointing him, especially over something like this, and I’ve been so careful.” Eloise thought about the last time she made it on the cover of a magazine. She tripped over some drunk and fell flat on her face. It made an excellent story for the tabloids and an even bigger stink with her father.
Everything is about the image in the public eye, and she was just plain sick of it all. The idea of another four years is enough for her to run screaming for the hills.
“You got plans tonight?” Mary asks as she tosses her napkin on her plate.
“Yeah, I have a dinner thing for work I have to attend. We’re trying to win over another new client.”
Mary makes a sour face. “Sounds…fun.” Lucky for Mary, she works her own hours as an artist in her own studio, while Eloise works for a big marketing corporation. Even though she worked her butt off in school for years, she still felt like they used her to gain clients for her connection to the mayor.
When her mother passed away thirteen years ago after a long battle with cancer, she was mentally and physically exhausted. She changed her last name to her mother's maiden name when her father became more involved in politics.
She didn’t want people to know who she was right off the bat. Her father didn’t understand at first, but now she was sure he was fine with it. She just needed time and privacy to get on with her life and to get over her grief.