. his name was Rich,” she says softly, her head hanging low. I hate him already for making her feel like this. “He and I met at work.”
“Stella’s?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“No. I was doing couple of nights a week at Stella’s, but at the time, I was also working an office job. Rich came in. He was an executive for a company and had an appointment with my boss. He was persistent and kind, brought me flowers and coffee when he came in every time after that first meeting. I was flattered, so I figured what the hell and gave him my number. We started dating not long after. Everything was peaches and cream . . . for the first couple of months or so.”
“And then?”
“It started with words. How I needed him, how he’d take care of me because without him, I couldn’t make it on my own. Then, eventually, a smack on the ass became . . . more. And each time, he’d remind me that I’d be nothing without him.”
I sit on my stool, my hand clenching around the green glass bottle of Perrier as I imagine this asshole treating Madison that way.
“It came to a head one night. He grabbed me, held my wrists really tight, and dragged me to the bedroom saying he was going to teach me a lesson I’d never forget. He pinned me down, held my wrists, and laid on top of me.” She rubs at her wrists mindlessly as she talks. “I cried out, loudly, I guess, and a neighbor knocked on the door, threatening to call the cops. Rich was worried about his image, so he stopped, but I’d already seen the truth. He crossed a line that night, and neither of us came back unchanged. So when he went to sleep, I packed a bag as quietly as I could and left.”
“Where’d you go? May’s?” I ask, horrified at her story.
Madison shakes her head. “No. Aunt May had done so much for me, I didn’t want to ask for even more unless I had no other choice. I had a key to Stella’s from when I closed up, so I went there and slept on the couch in her office. Stella came in the next morning and asked what happened. I cried as I told her the whole story and she held me. I had to hold her too because she wanted to go after Rich. But finally, I convinced her that I just wanted to live my life . . . free of him and on my own two feet. She offered me a place to stay and bumped me to full-time so I could quit my office job and I wouldn’t have to see him again.”
I nod. “Have you seen him or has he tried to contact you since?”
“No! Thank God,” Madison says, her bottle rattling a little. “He never even came to Stella’s, just wrote me off like I was nothing. I don’t know what I’d do if I did see him. Some days, I think I’d beat the shit out of him for all the times he hurt me. Others,” I admit to myself, “I’d probably just hide and avoid him.”
I growl and down the rest of my water to calm myself a little before replying. “He'd better pray to God he never comes around when you’re with me.” I see her stiffen, and I lower my voice as much as I can. “Do I really remind you of him?”
“No,” Madison admits and looks up for a minute before she continues. “It’s just those qualities you possess . . . strong, powerful, dominant, confident. Like Tiff says, it’s definitely my type. But it also makes me wonder what will happen when you don’t get what you want.”
Her words jolt me a little. I’m not going to lie. I feel very possessive of her right now. But only to protect her, not to control her. I’d never hurt her, definitely not physically, and not emotionally. But I worry I am already, just by being myself. And while I’d pluck the moon from the sky for this woman, I don’t know if I can change who I fundamentally am for her. I don’t think she’d like me if I did either.
She stares at me, noticing the turmoil on my face. She reaches up, placing a hand on my chest, and starts tracing a finger over my tattoo through my shirt, already having the