As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, I went about my morning routine, showering and applying makeup, attempting to dot on a layer of concealer over the marks on my neck. I was eerily calm, detached, like Billy had not just wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed. As if he had not just tried to kill me.
I folded clothes carefully, put them in the Louis Vuitton duffle, periodically glancing at Billy just lying there asleep. It would be so easy to pick up the knife and plunge it into his chest. Instead, I slid it under the cords still looped around my wrists, the ugly welts underneath leaving a reminder of what had happened. It wasn’t like I’d be able to easily forget.
Slinging my duffel bag over my shoulder, I gave the apartment one last glance. It was probably a mistake leaving him here in my place, but it couldn't be helped. I scooped up his clothes, phone, and wallet, removing the cash before I tossed the rest of it in a dumpster in the parking lot. I'm not sure why I took his stuff. It’s not like he couldn’t get new everything; his family had more money than God. At least it would inconvenience him.
I tied a scarf around my hair, matching the one already around my neck, and got the fuck out of there.
“Daddy?” I pressed the cell phone close to my ear, cupped my hand around it, hoping he wouldn’t hear the sounds of traffic passing. I had pulled off on a side road on the way out of town, so traffic was minimal, but still, my father was a perceptive man.
“Dani? Don’t you have finals this week?” He asked the question like any of my friends’ fathers would, their doctor, lawyer, hedge fund manager fathers. Except my father was not the doctor-lawyer-hedge fund manager type.
“Yeah, finals.” My voice faltered. Tell him you finished early. Tell him what happened. Tell him you’re on your way home.
“Listen, Dani,” he said, before I could confess. “Something’s happened.”
My heart leapt. Did he know about Billy? He couldn’t, could he? My father was omnipresent, everywhere; I would never escape his grasp.
“Daddy, I-”
“No,” he said. “Don’t even start arguing with me. I’m sending someone for you.”
“What? No.” Had he been spying on me, bugged my place? I wouldn’t put it past him. That sounded exactly like something he would do.
“Don’t say anything until I finish. It’s important. It’s about the man who killed your mother.”
“What are you talking about?” No, no, no. This is not happening. “He’s in prison. You said.” Not that I’d ever believed that story, even when I was fourteen. My father would have killed him. A Cuban necktie, I’d heard him say back then. He didn’t think I knew what it meant.
“You’re in danger. Threats have been made.” There were always threats.
“I don’t need an escort,” I said. At least not from one of his thugs.
“This is non-negotiable.” Nothing was ever negotiable with my father. He would control everything in my life, always. It was a fact.
“I’m not finished with finals for a few days yet.” It just came out. Lying to him is dangerous, I reminded myself. Just tell him now. You’ll have to tell him when you get there. He’ll be livid.
“I’m sending someone tomorrow.”
“I’m twenty-one. I don’t need an escort,” I protested. I’d be home by the time he found out I was lying. The last thing on earth I was going to do was sit around here and wait, in the same place where Billy had tried to kill me.
“End of discussion, Dani.”
Top down on the convertible, the scarf I had wrapped so tightly around my hair threatening to unravel itself in the wind, I pressed harder on the gas pedal as I meandered down the scenic Pacific Highway on my way back home. Home. Just like any other normal college student during summer break. Except things would never be normal for me. Not as long as I was my father’s daughter.
I could only imagine what my father would do now, when he saw what Billy had done. The trouble is, by going home I wasn’t sure whether I was signing Billy’s death sentence or my father’s.
The blonde in bed beside me stirred. What the fuck was her name again? Jessie? Jessica? Jane? Something with a J. I hope her name is "Judy". I've always wanted to fuck a "Judy," I thought. My head pounded like someone was driving a nail through my temple, and I tried to focus. Shit. I needed to take it easier on the partying when we made runs up the coast. I was getting too old for this. I went to take a leak, still groggy, but when I came back, I definitely started to perk up at the the sight of the blonde.
She was sprawled across the dirty sheets, her ass bare, tribal tramp stamp snaking across her lower back, accentuating her curves. Not that they needed accentuating. She had a nice ass. Of course, I didn't remember it from last night. Not at all. This morning, though- today was a new day, even with my splitting headache. My cock was getting hard just looking at her.
I slid my hand over her rump and she looked over her shoulder at me, face tired. Yeah, I’d definitely worn beer goggles last night. No matter. I didn’t need to look at her face.
“Aw, baby,” she said. “Aren’t you tired?”
“I was,” I said. “Now I’m not.” I pressed my cock against her so she could feel my hardness. Reaching around, I cupped her breast, feeling her nipple stiffen at my touch. She moaned softly, and I knew I had her.
I rolled over, reaching for a condom, and she watched me over her shoulder as I unrolled it on my length. She wasn’t a terrible looking girl- still young, probably early thirties, a few years younger than me, with a good figure. Not like some of the girls you’d see around the clubs, their tits sagging to their stomachs.