Freda's Freedom

Chapter 1

Freda

I have always enjoyed watching my hands straighten damp hair. It was strange, but I enjoyed seeing the cloudy swirls of steam as the hair dried into shiny, straight slivers.

"Do you think the length is okay?" Tessy asked me, her face hopeful in the mirror.

"Yes, darling, you will look great," I assured her, brushing stray hairs from her shoulder. I looked around the salon; we were unusually full today.

"Freda!" From behind me, I heard Trench's voice calling. "Are you done? I need two hands here."

"Nearly!" I returned the call while stroking Tessy's luscious blond hair. To show her how she looked, I held up a mirror for her. With her signature dimply smile, she exclaimed, "Thank you! This is exactly what I desired!

"That's great!" I said. She was one of my regular customers, someone I always enjoyed chatting with. "Is there something going on in town? Half our block is getting decked up here."

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" she asked me incredulously.

"No, what?"

"Ken Forester has returned to town." She grinned conspiratorially.

I stared at her. "Who is that?"

She gave me a quizzical look. "You don't know who Ken Forester is?"

"Freda!" I heard Trench yell from behind me. My eyes met with the crowd waiting on the couch for their appointment, and I cursed my pace.

I lifted a finger at Tessy. "Walk and talk?"

"Cool," she said, skipping beside me as I strode over to Trench's station.

"Finally," Trench mumbled, handing me a chunk of thick black hair to hold. "Oh, Tessy, you look lovely!"

"Thank you, Ms Becky!"

"What are you wearing this evening?" she asked Tessy, who sat down on a stool beside us.

"I'm thinking of an emerald gown."

"-I see, it goes with the blonde-"

"Exactly."

"Where did you get your gown?" the woman in our chair asked unexpectedly, turning to look at Tessy.

"Kelly's."

"Oh, she gave me a red gown for tonight!"

"Hello!" I interjected. "Anyone wanna tell me what's going on? Who's this Ken Forest? And, why is everyone getting dressed up?"

"Forester," Trench corrected me. "He was in our class, don't you remember?"

"Who?"

"The scrawny computer science geek who got in a load of trouble with Mrs. Hoover for hacking into the school's system and erasing all our grades..."

I put my hand on my mouth, my eyes widening. "Oh my God, yes. Ken. Oh, I remember him."

Trench snorted. "Of course you do. Your boyfriend spent 12 years of school torturing him."

"He didn't torture him-"

"Freda, the guy was a lunch money vending machine for Drake."

I huffed. "Yeah... I know." Drake had always been the abrasive kind. I shared a dark look with Trench who pressed a calming hand on my wrist.

Not now.

"So Forester is back in town – so what?" I asked.

Tessy rolled her eyes at me. "He came back a multi-billionaire."

My mouth fell open. "He's what?"

"A multi billionaire. He's filthy rich now! How have you not heard about this?" she asked, tossing a magazine at me.

I shrugged. I preferred reading things with slightly more meaning to them than pop-culture magazines. I held the glossy book and glanced at Trench.

"Oh, go ahead. We're almost done," she said.

I flipped the magazine open. "What do you want me to see?"

Tessy shook her head. "Not inside. The cover."

I frowned, slamming a magazine shut. A handsome, muscular man in a pressed navy shirt grinned back at me from the front cover. I blinked. Above the chiseled, tan jaw, I saw Scrawny Ken's familiar green eyes.

I gasped and looked at Tessy who was nodding with a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat.

"No," I whispered.

"Yes," she said assertively. "He has somehow turned into a freaking catch in four years."

"Little Ken who was scared of bouncy castles," I murmured, unable to believe his transformation.

"I remember, my thigh was wider than his tiny head," Trench said, chuckling.

"Unbelievable," I said.

"And, his parents are hosting a giant party for basically the entire town," Tessy continued.

"His mother always liked to show him off," Trench said, doing the final brushes on her customer's hair. "She was a real bitch – no wonder – he's out of the house two years, and his whole life changes!"

"Is that why you're all dressing up? For this party?" I asked.

"Yeah! I mean, it's not often that a multi-billionaire holds a massive party and I get invited," Tessy said, shrugging.

"I didn't get invited," Trench said flatly. Her defiant nonchalance almost made me smile. "Did you?" she asked me.

I scrunched up my forehead. "I do remember an email from Mrs. Forester... I sort of just ignored it."

"Oh my God, you should totally come!" Tessy said, excitement glowing in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know." I said, pulling out a pair of scissors as a customer sat down. "They're celebrating him – he shouldn't have to see my asshole boyfriend who bullied him his entire life."

Tessy nodded, pursing her lips. "Then go without him."

"I can't do that." I said, suddenly feeling my throat dry up. "Drake... He gets mad if I do that, so..."

Trench stepped in for me – thank God. "Okay, enough chit chat. You've got a customer waiting."

"Alright." I said, giving her a grateful smile. "I'll see you later, Tessy?"

"Sure, hon," she said, giving me a hug. "Try to come tonight."

I smiled at her, choosing not to respond. There wasn't much I remembered of Ken Forester except the times I had seen him with Drake, but those memories were enough to know one thing: he absolutely hated the both of us.

There was no way we were going to this party.

"THERE IS NO WAY WE are going to this party!" I yelled.

"God damn it, Freda, why do you have to be such a bitch?" Drake screamed, stalking into the room with a force that scared me. My hand itched to grab the lamp next to me so I could hurl it at his advancing figure. I waited too long – he strode forward and grabbed my arms with crushing strength. His breath smelled of gin, his hazel eyes out of focus as they bored into me with threatening intensity.

"Do you know how long I haven't had a job?"

"Yes, Drake," I said through gritted teeth.

"How long?"

"18 months," I said, venom leaking into my voice. I couldn't help it.

"And, you're the one who's always being a cunt about it, right?"

"I was not being a cunt!"

"Yes, you were!" he roared. "And, you're being a cunt right now."

My bottom lip trembled as tears threatened to escape me. Mustering up my courage, I yanked my arm out of his reach. "He hates you," I said softly, trying to fight the lump in my throat. "He would never give you a job."

Drake grabbed his ironed suit and marched to the bathroom. "I'll find a way to get one. No matter how rich he gets, he's still scrawny Ken inside – I know it."

"Drake, you cannot start a scene there-"

"I know!" he snapped. "I'm not a fucking idiot! I'm just gonna talk to him. Now get off my ass, will you?"

He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I clenched my fist so hard, my nails threatened to break my skin. I was going to do whatever I could do, but I would not break.

I stared at the messy bed and the cream walls of my bedroom, feeling as though I could no longer recognize it as my own. I gently touched the quilt on my bed – my nana had given it to me. I had also passed out on it after Drake punched me in the face.

I flicked my fingers back, feeling boiling hot rage bubbling inside of me. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I strode over to my closet, opening the door and peering into the cool darkness. I took deep, haunted breaths.

"What are you just standing there for?" he asked from behind me.

I am suffocating in this house.

"Looking for clothes," I said.

"Do it faster. We can't be late for the party. Got a lot of sucking up to do. "

No multi-billionaire would be dumb enough to hire someone like you.

"I can't wait!" I said, pulling out my go-to black dress. If Drake was going to insist on taking me out to a very public party, then I was going to use that opportunity for something I had been putting off for a long time.

Far too long.

The car ride to the Foresters' place was tense. Drake was not a complete mule, after all; he could sense that something was weighing on me. He could sense that I was thinking, measuring, planning.

He didn't like that, at all.

"What did I do now?" he asked sulkily.

You've turned my house into the place I hate most.

"Nothing, honey," I said.

"Always..." he mumbled, annoyed. "Women and their 'nothings.' There is always something, cause you're out there, giving me the cold shoulder, but when I ask, you say nothing."

Because saying something would get me a beating.

"That is not true!" I said, forcefully. I grabbed the wheel with great force, trying not to expel the words building up in my mouth.

I tried to recall Trench's advice: when it's a beater, always end it in a public place. I glanced at Drake trying to imagine the boy he was when I'd met him. It seemed like he had curled inward on himself like a deranged venus flytrap, thorns and spikes and all.

And, I had my arm stuck in that trap.

Getting myself out would not be easy. Even now, I could feel the strange click in my jaw that had been there since he last slapped me. It racked me with fear each time. Had he broken something? Trench kept telling me that a broken bone of any kind would lead to unbearable pain, and I would know it. But the anxiety, the panic, and the relentless sense of doom would not go away for long. They are frequent visitors when someone is using you as a punching bag for their insecurities.

A short man dressed in all blue walked up to my car and knocked on the window. "Yes?" I asked him.

"Valet for Forester party?"

"Oh. Okay." I took my purse and strode out of the car. I handed him the keys and saw ten other men in the same uniform walking about with people, dealing with their keys and parking.

Full valet. Woah.

"Looks like Forester's gone the whole way huh?" Drake asked, injecting some sarcasm into his voice. It was strangely reminiscent of the times he spent bullying Forester in school, and I felt my stomach turn.

"Definitely more than you have."

He turned to glare at me. "Excuse me?"

I faltered. Had that just slipped out of my mouth? I knew my subconscious ramblings would come back to bite me in the ass one day. Drake reached for my wrist, and his furious expression prepared me for a headlock, a twisted arm, or worse, a tight slap in the face.

"Freda?"

I looked up out of the darkness and onto the front porch of the Forester house. Tessy was waving at me excitedly, her shiny blonde hair bouncing in the street light. She looked extremely tall in her fitted emerald dress. Drake's arm was frozen midway between us. I stalked away from him with more confidence than I would have had we been alone. I had never been so glad to see Tessy before.

"Tessy, the dress is amazing!" I told her, reaching out to her with my arms wide open.

She cheerily gave me a hug, "Look at you! You clean up well."

"Haha, thanks. I'm not covered in stray hairs and scissors like the days you usually see me."

Drake cleared his throat from behind me. "Oh, this is Drake; Drake, this is Tessy."

"Hi, nice to meet you," he said, smiling almost like his old, charming self. Almost.

"Is this the boyfriend that I've never met before?" Tessy asked casually.

"Um," I faltered again, unable to act in time to save my hide. Why were my nerves failing me today?

"Yes, I am," he interjected for me. "We've been together since we were 14."

"Wow, guys. That's intense." She nodded sagely.

"Shall we go in?" I asked, wrapping my arm around Tessy's waist so she couldn't leave me alone with Drake. Already, I could see him fuming about me not calling him my boyfriend right away. Perhaps defiance was finding its way into my speech, now that I was so close to freeing myself of his baleful presence.

Whatever it was, I knew I needed a couple of drinks in me before I confronted Drake. I stared at the throng inside the Forester house through their windows and took a deep breath.

It was time to be brave. It was time to take action.

Chapter 2

Ken

I had known my mother would embarrass me the second I landed in town, but I hadn't quite pictured the extent of her neuroticism.

I should have. About three seconds ago, 120 relatives and friends of the Forester family jumped out from behind the furniture and screamed "Surprise!" in my jetlagged face.

And, I was giving them nothing but a fixed smile. So what? I'm a tech man, not a PR professional.

"Woah!" I said, so lamely, I almost rolled my eyes at myself. "I can't believe you're all here!"

"It's all for you, darling! They're all here for you." My mother gushed, rushing over to grab me in a tight hug. I politely hugged her back, not bothering to inform her that she had invited her friends to celebrate my success –- the same friends of hers who had pitied me as the scrawny, rebellious geek who lacked the backbone to succeed in life.

Was part of the reason I came here just to show these people that I did, in fact, have a backbone?

Maybe.

Elegant lights wove along the sides of the walls, throwing shadows around us all. Alcohol was being freely passed – too freely, I noted, for a party thrown by my mother. I encountered several people I went to high school with. And, a few people whom I didn't recognize at all. Most of them were slightly tipsy by the time I had decided to engage in the party properly.

By the time it was eleven, the party was downright raging. I had to admit, it wasn't too bad.

The entire front yard and the porch were decorated with fairy lights that ran up and down through the foliage – my mother's handicraft, no doubt. Inside the house, alternate rock and general hip-hop drifted through the air, mingling with the chattering voices of what looked like half the town. People seemed more than happy to join wholeheartedly in celebrating a person they couldn't remember.

They couldn't even recognize me. Well, most of them couldn't.

"You owe me," a voice behind me exclaimed. My head whipped around to see Amalia's skinny figure pulling my best friend and right hand man, Felix, behind her.

"I can't believe you came!" I exclaimed, grabbing Felix in a tight hug. "Thank God you're here."

"Wow, you've been around your mother for half a day, and you're already cracking," he joked. I laughed jovially, slapping him on the back.

"You have no idea." I said. Felix Baker and I were the team, and we had been for the past 6 years. We swung back and forth in our hug, almost toppling over – he was quite buzzed already.

"How come you came?" I asked him.

"Oh, they said it was a false alarm," he said, smiling. His father had recently gotten the terrible news that his cancer had returned.

"False alarm?"

"Yeah, there was some new growth around the same place as before. They checked it, but it is completely benign."

"He must have freaked."

Felix nodded, thoughtfully. "He did. And, so did I."

"I'm really glad you're here," I said, grinning at him, grabbing the man into the tightest hug I could muster. He was the guy who had stood by me through all the terrible teens – the years of bullying, ridicule, and social awkwardness felt lighter than they did at the time when you've got someone on your team.

"Aw, you guys should be a couple," Amalia said, squeezing my cheeks.

"Yeah... Ken's not really my type," Felix said. She chortled.

"Your asshole brand of humor won't get to me tonight," I told him, grabbing another glass of champagne off the table for each of us.

"Speaking of assholes..." Amalia said, pointing her chin towards someone behind me.

I turned around to see who she was talking about. I felt the anger bubble before I even registered the man's identity. I grit my teeth together. Drake Dunstable.

The man was gigantic – 6 feet 7 inches of absolute dick, if I recalled correctly. His neatly-pressed suit was a giant departure from the days of leather jackets and football jerseys I remembered him from.

"You're a big man, Dev. I wouldn't have invited him," Felix commented, throwing Amalia a dark look. Felix was no stranger to the menace Drake Dunst was, although I had usually taken the brunt of his bullying. Drake was actually why Felix and I had become friends in the first place. I remembered the day so clearly, it kind of surprised me.

It was the third day of eighth grade. I was thin, gawky, and quiet, my head weighed down by prescription glasses that made my eyes look like a frog's. In only three days, I had learnt that I was far, far below on the rungs of social status than I had ever expected to be. Eighth grade was crueler and colder than even sixth grade, a most vicious year, as I recalled. I was brooding over the gut-wrenching social anxiety courting me as I stuffed my books into my locker when I saw her.

It was her cascading, wavy, dark brown hair that hung below her waist that hooked my attention. Her sky blue eyes seemed to glow against her tanned skin, trapping my gaze in a vice-like grip. Oh my God, a girl, my fourteen-year-old mind had wailed.

"Hey!" I yelled, unable to hold myself back. I had to talk to her. She wouldn't mind if I just said hey, right? Maybe I shouldn't have just yelled like a psycho? Too late to worry about that now, I thought as her head turned to face me. When she looked at me, I suddenly felt extremely...visible.

"Hey," she said, a small smile tilting her plush lips.

Holy shit. She said hey to me. I blinked at her nervously, feeling absolutely flustered. I cursed my father for not teaching me tips on how to talk to girls before he ditched us. All I got in the form of girl advice was from my mother repeatedly telling me, "Just be honest." I gnawed on my lip and took a deep breath. Okay. Just be honest.

"You're really pretty," I said, forcing my face into what I felt was a somewhat normal configuration.

"Why are you making that face?" she asked me, looking concerned. I promptly relaxed my muscles – whatever I thought was normal was clearly not working.

"Sorry..." I mumbled, shuffling away from her, admitting defeat.

"Hey..." she called, yanking me back by my sleeve. I let her pull me closer like it was the most natural thing. "Thanks for saying that. It was sweet."

I gave her a toothy smile, my heart running double time. "You're welcome! Maybe...if you don't have any plans...we could go somewhere... Not that you can't be alone or that you need company per se, just you know, coffee and... with me... Th-that might be fun-"

"What's going' on here?" a voice boomed from behind me. I shut my eyes, cursing the gods above and below. I would know that obnoxious voice from a mile away. "This guy bothering' you, Freda?"

"I was just leaving," I mumbled, turning around and walking away from them. However gorgeous this girl was, if she was connected to Drake In any way, I was out. Drake had never really grown past the kindergarten phase where you sucker punch anyone who touches your "toys," and those are the kinds of people I like to avoid.

"No, he's not. He just said that I was pretty," I heard her respond. I closed my eyes slowly.

Idiot. She just got me killed.

I increased the pace of my limbs as much as I could without actively running, but it didn't matter. Drake already chased me and grabbed me by my hood before I could take as much as two more steps. He hung the hood onto the edge of a locker, leaving me dangling a foot off the ground before the whole hallway.

"Blondie wants to play with Drake's girlfriend," he mocked me, his dark eyes full of malevolent pride.

"I-I didn't know she was with you-" I began.

"Like you had a shot with her in hell even if I wasn't here," he said, chuckling. He leaned down to the level of my face, making me squirm uncomfortably. "Nobody wants you here. You know that, right? Nobody wants you around. I'm just the only one who openly tells you."

"Tyler, come on," the girl – Freda, Drake had called her – said. "You're being mean."

"Is it meant to defend your girl from creepy geeks who wanna get in her pants? Then, I'm fucking mean." With that, he placed a well-aimed punch right in my gut that made me crumple inward in pain, clutching my stomach as tears threatened to leak out of my eyes. He laughed aloud, pulling the hood off the locker before he left so I crashed to the ground in a boney heap. I sniffed, my eyes boring into the ground, my teeth tight around the insults on my tongue that I could never use, at least not if I wanted to get out of school alive.

I raked my hand on the floor around me – my glasses had fallen off, and I was basically blind without them.

"Here," someone said. I felt the familiar heavy plastic of my glasses touch my fingers.

"Thank you," I said, profusely, shoving my glasses back on. They had been stepped on almost four times last year – an expensive loss that got me a nice whooping from my father each time.

I looked up to see the face of my helper. A bug-eyed teen with a dopey grin was staring at me.

"You alright?" he kept asking me. I was aware that I wasn't responding, but my head was reeling. Was someone in Jefferson High trying to be nice to me? I blinked at him. Surely, it was a ploy for further bullying.

"Did he hang you up by the locker?" he asked casually, as though we were talking about the weather. "That's every Monday morning for me."

"You know Tyler?" I asked, my face scrunching up as his name left an acrid taste in my mouth.

"Yeah." The cheery boy's face seemed to dim a little. He glanced around us and leaned into me. "Drake Is a cunt."

I laughed darkly. "He'd whoop you for saying that."

"Well he's not here, is he?"

"No, he's not..." I trailed off. I realized I was still sitting on the floor. I looked up at the guy, "Why does he hang you up?"

"I'm in his English class."

"So?"

"Does he need a specific reason?"

I nodded in understanding. "Probably not."

"What did you do?" he asked me.

I gave him a dry smile. "I told his girlfriend she's pretty."

"Ha ha!" he said, slapping me on the back. "You're a badass!"

"Not really," I told him, "I didn't know she was dating him."

He shrugged, "Still. You went up to a girl and said words. More guts than I have."

I smiled; that made me feel better. Even though I'd basically gotten my ass kicked and suffered crippling embarrassment, before Drake's gorilla self barged in, the girl seemed to think I was sweet.

"I'm Felix," the boy said, extending his hand. I felt my smile grow.

"I'm Ken," I said, grasping his hand. He pulled me up with surprising strength. "You good?"

"Yeah," I said, awkwardly. "Thanks for helping me out, man."

"It's no problem."

We stood next to each other silently for a few moments. There were still 26 minutes to go before the next class began. I glanced at Felix; he seemed to be in no rush to get anywhere, either.

"So, what do you wanna do?" I asked him.

He stared at me for a beat, as if debating whether to tell me something. Then, he leaned in and whispered, "Have you ever smoked a joint?"

"Yo!" someone yelled, snapping me out of my memories. The base of the music rose, thundering tremendously. The party was in full flow. My head swerved to see Felix nudging me pointedly in the ribs.

"What?" I asked him, shoving his elbow aside.

"She's coming here," he said through gritted teeth, giving me a fake smile.

"Who?"

"The girl you spent your entire school life mooning over," he snapped, pushing two drinks into my hands. Before I could protest, he grabbed my shoulders and spun me...and I came face to face, very suddenly, with Freda Steely.

She looked surprised to see me. Her hand was outstretched as if she were about to tap me on the shoulder. She looked like a walking, talking, human incarnation of elegance as she gave me a small, coy smile.

"Hey," she said.

You have to say something. You are 22 years old. Act like you've had a human conversation before. "Drink?" I asked, offering her one of the glasses Felix had handed me.

"Yes, please." She grabbed the glass with an almost unnecessary urgency. She took two very long gulps. It occured to me that she seemed nervous.

"Enjoying the party?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she said, nodding, her mind seemingly elsewhere. "Congratulations...on your life and everything."

I couldn't help it – I had to laugh at the way she said that.

Suddenly, she leaned in and grabbed my sleeve. "Is Drake Behind me?"

"N-no," I said, cursing myself for stuttering. Act. Normal.

She looked up at me earnestly. Her crystal blue eyes seemed to trap my gaze under the throbbing lights. "I'm very sorry for what he put you through. And, I'm very happy that you're doing so well."

"Thank you. That's very kind of you to say," I told her, honestly. My eyes were still rooted to hers – she had a force in her gaze that always surprised me. I did not know her very well. I had been so ridiculously infatuated with her throughout high school that I couldn't ever speak to her, let alone get to know her. Also, there was Drake

"I'm glad you guys came," I said, smiling politely.

She looked away from me, her eyes ridden with guilt, her shoulders hunched defensively. It was a posture I recognized from the lessons Felix gave me on how to read our investors' body language. Freda seemed out of place – a strangely tense presence in a room full of otherwise loose and happy people.

"Do you want a drink?" I half-shouted over the music.

"I'm sorry I brought him here. He insisted on meeting you..."

I rolled my eyes, "Don't worry about it. He'll find me harder to punch this time."

She let out a small laugh, "Yeah, you're not so tiny anymore."

I sniggered, "You're dating a six foot seven tree. Of course, I look tiny to you. You must look tiny to you."

She laughed – for real this time. Feeling distinctively proud of myself, I handed her a drink.

"Cheers," she said. "To improve your life."

How very specific. "To improve your life."

I took a sip, enjoying the cool wine washing down my dry throat. I had spent a majority of the evening talking to people who wanted to exchange the same stories over and over again. Where have you been? How did you do this? Are you dating someone? Do you want to listen to the cool startup idea my uncle gave me? The sheer number of questions was baffling.

"Can I ask you a question?" Freda began.

It took everything I had in me to not roll my eyes. "You already did."

"Another one, then."

"Go on."

She bit her lip, "Why did you change your hair color?"

I stared at her, surprised at her question. "I did that in 10th grade. Why are you asking me now?"

She shrugged lightly, sipping her drink. "I liked the blond better. I always wanted to ask you why you changed it, but never really got the chance."

It was my turn to be defensive. I frowned, shaking my head, "There were a lot of chances, to be really-"

"Hey!" I heard a very familiar voice boom. I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders, careless with its weight, and DrakeDunst's leering face appeared into my view.

"Little Ken!" he said, grinning at me.

"Drake Dunst," I finished, lamely. Was I supposed to make an effort into coming up with an equally moronic nickname for him? Perhaps. Was I supposed to at least exchange a few pleasantries with him since he was a guest in my house? Maybe. But I was drunk, and it was easy to forget my manners and become firm in my convictions.

I ducked out from under his arm, without giving him a warning. I slapped him on the back, "Have a good time, man. It was nice to see you, Freda."

She nodded at me as I spun away. I felt Tyler's hand grab my shoulder and stop me midway.

The wave of rage I felt at this simple action was astounding. It was a dejavu of the worst kind – the one where you relive your petty childhood traumas over and over again. I am a grown man now. There was no way I was going to let Drake Dunst hang me up by some locker. But I remembered the way he stopped me then, and it filled me with as much rage then as it did now.

"Where are you going, man?" he asked me jovially, smiling from ear to ear. "We gotta catch up!"

I liked to call this the "billionaire syndrome."

"Sorry, bro, I gotta go help out my friend. I think she's throwing up on the couch," I said, quickly ducking away and twisting and worming my way into the crowd so he wouldn't try to stop me again. My temper was close to the surface these days, and it wouldn't do well to break into a fight over petty, age-old rivalry. I had to be better. More mature.

"Bunny!" I heard my mother's voice from my left.

Shit. I tried to worm into the crowd, but I was blocked by five extremely drunk people engaged in sort of a five-way dance/grind jig. I'm too sober for this.

I felt my mother's talons piercing my arm as she grabbed me and dragged me toward the kitchen. There was no escaping her once she got you by the claws.

"Jesus, Mother," I growled, pulling myself free but following her. She gave me a piercing glare, her lips pursed into a frown. My eyes met Felix on the way, who was holding Amalia's hair back as she threw up at their feet.

He knew I would switch places with him in an instant.

I had only stepped in halfway into the kitchen when my mother's rant began. She couldn't even wait for me to adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting. "Absolutely uncultured brats – no sense of dignity – they're humping in your grandparents' room!"

I shrugged noncommittally. "Nobody's lived in that room for six years."

"So what?" she yelled.

I let out a low whistle, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Ma, you gotta calm down. We talked about this party. I told you this would happen-"

"So this is my fault-" she began, bitterness in every syllable.

"Ma, I told you not to have a party. You went ahead and did it, anyway!"

"I wanted to celebrate with you!"

"You hired an entire team of bartenders! Our living room looks like a 1980s disco! You went way fucking overboard!"

"Don't you dare talk to me that way-"

"So don't lie to me about doing this for me. You did this for you, as usual."

"Oh you are just like your father," she snapped.

"Here we go-"

"Manipulating my words and making me sound like an asshole," she seethed. "Your friends are trampling and screwing on top of our furniture! All of my friends are holed up inside the basement terrified of the things people are doing-"

"Your friends!" I yelled. "You invited them! Not me! I had no part in this. I landed here two hours ago!" She opened her mouth to argue, but I couldn't take it anymore.

"No – listen. You called half the town here. You gave them the booze. You gave them the music. I suggest you consider yourself a generous party thrower and just leave them alone. You can't control these people, Ma."

She stared at me, her lower lip trembling. "You are thankless," she spat.

I screwed my forehead as tight as I could. "I need some air."

"Ken-"

I didn't wait for her to finish. I simply marched out of the backdoor of the kitchen, slamming it shut behind me.

My chest was heaving as I took long, deep breaths, trying to calm down. I had been driven out of my own house by the madness of those inside. I lit a cigarette and took a big puff. It was a toxic remedy I had come to depend on after fights with my mother, which were always plentiful. I didn't think it had much to do with actually smoking the cigarette, rather than just puffing smoke out of your mouth, letting the five minutes feel like a "break" from life.

I took another drag and stared off into the distance. My mother had taken to our garden after our father left, obsessively pruning and maintaining each shrub, flower, and tree with care. The garden had flourished, branches of a variety of plants weaving in and around each other. It was a dark and soothing labyrinth.

"Stop it, just stop!" someone screamed. I immediately stood up, my head whipping to the source of the noise. Freda Steely charged along the path beside my garden, closely followed by Drake's hunting figure.

"No, you stop!" Drake yelled, slurring his words a bit. I glanced worriedly at them, feeling intrusive. "You wanna break up with me? We're soulmates!"

"No, we're not. I hate you!"

"It was you... You bitched behind my back, didn't you? To Forester? He totally ignored me... It was you-""It was you... You bitched behind my back, didn't you? To Forester? He totally ignored me... It was you-"

"No, I wasn't!"

"I saw you laughing' it up with that b-brat!" he accused, sounding almost incoherent.

"Drake you have to fucking control yourself, right now!"

Even from this distance, I could see his face crumpling. He raised his arm and in a powerful swing, slapped Freda across her right cheek. I saw her slam against a branch, hitting her head and crumpling onto the ground.

"Don't you fucking dare tell me what to do," Drake snarled at her.

Unfettered, boiling hot rage rose in my throat like lava. I felt anger so intense and pure, I could taste it in my mouth. Unthinking, I raced up to Drake, my cigarette's butt crushing under my iron grip. He whipped around as he heard me approach and without hesitation, I took my cigarette and stubbed it on his arm.

"Holy shit!" he cried, jumping away from me. Without missing a beat, I whipped my right arm around and clocked him directly in his chin. The crunch of the impact was loud, and Drake fell to the ground, unconscious.

hapter 3

Freda

This is why I didn't want to come to this party.

Ken Forester stood before me, his chest heaving and his hands still bunched up into tight fists as he stared at Drake's limp body on the ground.

He offered me his hand kindly, and only then did I realize that I was still lying crumpled in his garden. I also realised he had seen me get viciously slapped. Tears of embarrassment rose to my eyes without permission. I gritted my teeth together and stood up without taking his hand.

"Thank you," I said mutedly. What was I thanking him for? Taking care of the situation because I wasn't able to do it? I wondered.

"He should be the one to thank me," Ken said. "I knocked him out before you could murder him."

I let out a short laugh, but chose not to respond. Would I ever have hurt Drake in return? I had never done that before. I wasn't a violent person, and I had always seen it as something beneath me.

But watching Ken punch Drake in the face had been strangely cathartic. Has it been that easy all along? One punch and he would shut up? Had I been wasting my time and energy trying to be civil?

"Hey, are you okay?" Ken asked me.

I couldn't see his eyes. My heart was weighed heavily by an ugly combination of guilt, disgust, and self-hate. My legs itched to run to my house and hide until tomorrow came.

"I'm gonna go home..." I said, staring at Drake's unmoving figure. Was I just going to leave him here?

"You can leave him here," Ken said to me. "I'll have someone put him in my old room."

"TELL THEM TO WATCH out for him. He's violent."

"

An unerring silence settled between us. My thoughts felt all in disarray, and I felt the familiar blanket of anxiety wrap me in its arms. I had made all the wrong decisions and wasted years of my life on a useless piece of shit. Drake was beginning to stir a little bit, and I couldn't handle that. I spun on my heel and began to walk toward the exit.

"Bye, Ken . I'll see you later," I called as I rushed out. "Thanks for helping out."

He jogged after me. "Hey, hang on, hang on."

I huffed, reluctantly coming to a stop. Why couldn't he see that I wanted – that I needed to be alone?

"Yes?" I asked him politely.

"Are you sure you're good to go home alone?" he asked me.

"Yes, Ken -"

"'Cause I gotta say, you got crazy eyes."

I stared at him. "Excuse me?"

He seemed to stammer a bit, "Your-uh, eyes. They look like you're feeling kind of crazy." I blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

"Look," he began, pulling his hands close together, "that was really upsetting, what just happened. You shouldn't be alone right now."

I crossed my arms before me. "And, why not?"

He blinked as if he were wondering if it was a rhetorical question. When I stared at him mutedly, he said, "Well it's 1 am, which is pretty late and the street dogs chase you at night. Also you're emotionally distraught and I... Well, I wouldn't leave a friend alone that way."

I laughed bitterly, my tears finally leaking onto my cheeks. "A friend! I don't deserve that from you. I really don't. I watched you go through this shit for – what – ten years, and I never lifted a finger. I did nothing!"

"You protested sometimes-"

"Oh! I protested sometimes. Did that help you when Drake crapped on your life every single day?"

"No, but I saw enough to know you weren't a bitch," He said sharply.

I shook my head at him, letting out a hollow laugh. "You just struck him down... It was always that easy. I could never do it. I never did it. That makes me as much of a bitch as he is... No, that makes me a fucking wuss!"

"Jesus, you were not a wuss, you were just a normal human kid in love!" He threw his hands in the air. I had no idea why this now strange man was here, trying so hard to comfort me. I wiped the tears glazing my cheeks. "People do dumb shit when they're in love! Drake is the asshole who wants everyone to behave exactly how he wants it or he gets violent, and the dumbest thing you could do is to go charging alone into the night over someone as worthless as him."

I shrugged. "Well, I already gave him years of my life. I guess I am dumb."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Look, Ken , I'm really, so amazed at how kind you are. It's almost unbelievable. I thought Drake wrecked you for good-"

"Pfft, he can try."

"But I've already taken enough of your night to have you walk me all the way home. I'll just ruin your evening further."

He sighed, resting his hands on his waist. "Come on, you'll be doing me a favor. I can't go back to that party."

"Why don't you wanna stay at your party?" I asked him.

"Same reason you don't."

"Avoiding people and confrontation?"

"Yep," he said without skipping a beat.

"Alright," I said, warily giving in. "Come on."

I swung the gate open and stepped out, my dress trailing behind me. The night was cool and crisp, a light breeze filtering through the shaded lanes. Ken fell in step beside me with ease. I threw him a glance, noticing he really had grown taller.

"There are a lot more trees here than before," he commented.

I cleared my throat. "Your mother started a green initiative thing with the city council two years ago."

He glanced at me with surprise. "She did?"

"Yeah. The council spent a chunk of money getting these saplings into the city." I gently touched a nearby branch. The leaves shone with the subtle sheen of silver moonlight. "She led the charge really well."

"Yeah, she can be fierce."

"She's...formidable," I breathed. I had watched Lyla Forester take on the slowest, sleaziest players of the city council to get what she wanted. She was ruthless. Relentless.

"She's a pain in the ass," I heard Ken mutter. I turned to look at his expression. Even under the shadowy blanket of the night, I could see his brows turned down into a rather defensive frown.

"I thought she was inspiring," I said honestly. He rolled his eyes.

"The relentless, tunnel-visioned activist is only tolerable from a distance. It doesn't work when her switch never turns off, even when she's home."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing to someone who hasn't experienced it."

I gave him a look. Just because I hadn't lived through something, didn't mean I couldn't practice basic empathy. "Try me," I insisted.

He gave me the side-eye. "Were we planning on a long walk where we discuss our feelings?"

I gave him a small smile. "I don't know. Were we?"

He huffed, his pace increasing marginally. I recognized the Pizza Hut six blocks away from home.

"I don't know how I feel about discussing family troubles with...well, a stranger," he said, giving me a crooked grin.

"I think I'd like it," I told him. "You became an unwilling participant in a very private moment in my life. Maybe I'm just trying to even out the playing field."

He chuckled, "That's fair, I'll give you that."

I sidestepped a late night jogger and fell in step beside Ken . It seemed very strange to look at his face – someone I had known for so long, and at the same time, someone I knew so little.

"How did you...do all this?" I asked him.

"All what?" His eyes met mine as we walked.

"Your company, all the money, all that success..." I said. "It must have been hard."

"Not really." He paused thoughtfully. "Don't get me wrong, it took some really long nights. But it was an easy venture because I was fulfilling a need society has. Every new technology has to do that, or it withers away. You can't really go wrong with a product that's vital."

I listened to him with rapture, remembering the early days of Drake and I living together, back when he worked for a startup and did things he was actually excited about. We'd sit together every evening, drinking tea and smoking a thin joint to relax and let loose.

The memory made me sad, and I wrapped my coat around myself, huddling within and trying to shield myself from the devastated feeling everyone has to suffer through after a break up. The fact that Drake and I lived together made the whole situation even more complicated.

"Fuck," I mumbled.

"What?" Ken asked.

"I gotta start packing when I get home," I said more to myself than to him. I pulled out my cell phone. "Maybe I'll stay with Trench for a while."

"You and Drake live together?"

"Yeah, we do," I said, punching a quick text to Trench . "I don't want to discuss the apartment with Drake right now, and I don't want to see him alone. I'd rather run, quite honestly."

Ken threw me an uncomfortable glance, as if debating something in his head. The expression was arresting, his eyebrows were pulled together slightly and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"What are you looking at me for?" I asked him.

"I was just wondering...has he hit you before?"

I felt my jaw lock up as I glanced away ahead, straight into the empty streets.

"I didn't mean to be intrusive, but-"

"But, you are. You keep demanding answers from me, while you want to say nothing about yourself," I said simply.

"You're right," he admitted, to my great surprise. "I did that."

"Thank you for admitting it."

"Let's level the playing field, then." He turned around to walk backwards and gave me a sly grin. "Ask me anything."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Anything?" I confirmed.

"Yeah."

"Ummm..." I bit my lip. This was an unexpected opportunity. What did I want to know about Ken Forester's life?

"Okay," I began, lifting a finger, "I have a ready one. Why do you hate your mother?"

He laughed. "You're not letting that go, huh?"

"It's just a different side of her I'm hearing about. I'm curious."

He sighed, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. "She expects perfection in all forms, at all times, from everyone. Obsessively so. It gets exhausting, that's all."

I nodded without offering a response or a deeper question. I didn't really understand the situation, and I didn't want to push it since he seemed to harden up a bit every time I mentioned her.

"She makes me feel trapped," he finished.

That, I understood. The suffocating blanket that tries to drown you in its throes was an old, familiar friend of mine. You can only spend so long imagining it doesn't exist. It demands your attention, forcing your actions into a sluggish haze where you don't really feel like you're making decisions in your life anymore. You're just floating.

Until tonight. No, tonight was different. Tonight, I took action. I told Drake, for the last fucking time, no. I would not be a slave to his impulses. It was not my job to fix him. The future was really uncertain now. I had known so little of life outside Drake. But it would be better. It had to be.

I smiled at Ken . "I'm glad you left the party, then. Who has time for that suffocating shit, right?"

He grinned at me, the crinkles around his green eyes deepening. "That's right. Felix is gonna kill me, though."

"Felix?" I asked.

"Felix Baker? He went to our school?" he said. I shook my head at him. "You really don't remember?"

"No, I was kind of a bitch in high school," I told him truthfully.

He laughed out loud. It was a pleasant, jovial sound that made me smile, as well. His hair flipped back with a lazy abandon. Damn, he's pretty, I thought.

"I thought you were alright." He gave me a weird, knowing smile.

His tone made me giggle. "What? What is that smile?"

"What smile?"

"Your face!" I said, pointing at him. He was grinning from ear to ear, a single dimple I'd never noticed before punctuating his right cheek.

"What about it?"

"Tell me what you're all smiley about!" I insisted, skipping a little.

"Well..." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets again. I noticed he tended to do that when he was discussing something he was nervous about. "I never exactly told you before, but I had a crush on you in school."

I nodded, smiling. "Oh yeah, you told me I was pretty once."

"Yeah, well, that was the first day we met. I liked you for like, three years or something after that."

My mouth fell open. "You what?"

He looked taken aback. "You really couldn't tell?"

"I had no idea!"

"You'd have to be dumb not to see it. I was so fucking obvious, it was pathetic."

"Oh wow," I said, going over the already hazy memories of school in my mind. Ken had been on the edges of my life, a few polite conversations here and there, and that was that. I was surprised, and what was more surprising was that it was a pleasant surprise. "I really never knew. Drake always told me that you were," I made finger quotes, "'hot for me,' but I just thought he was lying."

"Why do you think he started kicking my ass extra hard in 8th grade?" he asked, giving me a smile that was somehow cocky and self-deprecating at the same time.

"Well you can't expect me to be a mind-reader," I told him. "You never really said anything to me."

He shrugged. "That's true."

"Chicken." I was accused.

"I was too chicken 'cause I thought your boyfriend would murder me."

"Ex-boyfriend," I clarified.

"You guys are really done, then?" he asked me, his eyes twinkling.

I let out a short laugh, matching his gaze. "Maybe I'm wrong, but you look kind of happy."

He matched my grin. "Maybe I think you deserve better."

"You're a smooth talker," I said, suddenly realizing we weren't walking anymore. We were standing quite still, our bodies inches apart from each other, leaning in. I took a deep breath. Ken smelled incredible. I felt as though his entire body was radiating heat.

Who is this guy? I wondered, trying to reconcile the nervous blond boy I remembered with this dark-haired wisecracker before me.

His breath brushed across my face as he opened his mouth. "We're at your house."

I blinked. "What?"

"Your house. This is your house right?" He pointed to the familiar brick building behind me.

"Oh, yes." I nodded. He shoved his hands into his pockets again and glanced at me from under his lashes, and I had to smile.

He's freaking adorable.

"Do you..." I trailed off. Was I really considering this?

I glanced at Ken 's face and felt that unusual feeling that had been recurring all night. We were strangers who weren't strangers. Old friends who were meeting for the first time. I didn't want him to leave. I wasn't sure what I really wanted to do...but I wanted him to stay.

"Want to come help me pack?" I finished. "There's a lot of stuff, and I'm not sure I can get it done in time."

He blinked at me, his poker face slipping for a moment. How cute. "Sure, I'd love to help."

I WAS NERVOUS. I COULD clearly remember the last time I had sex. It was five months ago, right before a party celebrating Tessy getting into law school. I didn't want to go to the party, and I certainly did not want to go with Drake. It had begun to embarrass me to be around him when he lost his temper, or got hammered or both. I had begun to avoid public events and parties at all costs. I remembered staring at my reflection in the mirror while talking to him sometimes and feeling as though the person in the reflection was nothing like me anymore. Not a smidge.

However, that was a big night for Tessy. I had to be there for her, and honestly I was a little excited, too. I had, somehow, managed to convince Drake not to drink at the party. It had been a long, tiring conversation.

"You look marvellous," he'd said as I walked out of the bathroom in my attire for the night.

I smiled at him. "Thanks, babe. Are you ready?"

He walked over to me with a smile, "Now wait a minute, how can we just leave when you look so damn good."

I had to giggle as he wrapped his arms around me, rubbing me up and down. I felt the acrid smell of whiskey reaching my nose. I pushed Drake back with full force, boring my eyes into his.

They were unfocused. Red.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked him.

He tilted his head. "You know I don't like it when you ask me that. I'm not some kind of an addict."

"I didn't mean it that way. I just thought we had an agreement that we weren't drinking tonight-"

"Shhh." He quieted me down, grabbing my ass in his massive palms. "You never said anything about drinking before the party."

"Drake, that's-"

"And, I thought about it, and it sounds stupid. It'll be weird if I don't drink at the party. Your friends will think I'm not mingling."

"That is not what they will think."

He ran his hands up my sides and cupped around my neck. I felt as though he would strangle me for a second. "Then what will they think?"

I stared at him, trying not to show any fear, or God forbid, disgust.

He tangled his fingers in my hair. "Don't worry about it already, you're totally ruining my life."

I think that's the whiskey, asshole.

That was the very last time Drake and I had sex. Thankfully, he never pushed me beyond a certain point for sex – that was one line he never crossed.

I tucked my hair behind my ears and looked into the bathroom mirror. Ken Forrester was in my house, right now. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror and being an epitome of indecisiveness was not going to help me out.

Donning my best poker face, I stepped out into the living room. Ken was seated on the couch, slumping lazily on the back. He had this almost boyish way about him. I went over to him and asked, "Drink?"

He blinked at me and fished out something long and thin from his pocket. "Joint?"

I grinned at him. "Hell yeah."

"Can I light up inside?"

"Please, go ahead," I said, sitting down on the couch.

He stood up. "I don't mind some wine, actually."

"Oh, alright," I said, standing up.

He raised his hands to stop me. "Please, I got it. Tell me where it is?"

"In the fridge," I responded, following him to the kitchen anyway. "Top shelf."

He found the wine while I pulled two glasses out of the cupboard. I felt as though I were performing a charade, my eyes flitting over and over to the smooth lines of Ken 's back under his navy blue shirt. I wanted to spread my fingers across his chest. His eyes met mine, and he fumbled with the bottle, spilling wine all down the front of his shirt.

"Ah, shit!" he exclaimed, pulling his shirt away from his skin. Wine ran down his chest in tiny rivulets, dripping onto the floor. I turned around to grab a few paper towels for him and turned to hand them over.

I froze. He had taken off his soaked shirt, revealing his finely-chiseled chest underneath. His chest heaved as he breathed, and I tried to keep my hormones under control as I stared at the way he patted himself down with a thin paper towel. I imagined biting the taut skin on his shoulder.

"Here, let me," I said as he glanced around for more towels. I pressed one napkin against his chest, slowly running it down to soak up the wine. His abdomen was hard, his breathing quickening infinitesimally as my skin grazed his. When my eyes rose to meet his, he was looking right at me, his green eyes dark with desire, twinkling lusciously, as a small smile dotted the corners of his lips. They look so perfect and soft, I just wanted to crush them against mine and let myself melt into oblivion. It was like they were drawing me in, pulling at me, unyielding...telling me that this was the moment to give in.

In that instant, all my indecisiveness vanished in a puff of smoke. I stood on my toes and pressed my lips against his, my fingers tracing his jawline. He kissed me back, slow and smooth at first, and then his fingers dug themselves into my hair, pulling me closer to him so that every inch of my body was pressed up against his.

Ken 's tongue dipped in and out of my mouth as I kissed him back, ripples of pleasure running down my back as he did so. He moved his mouth to my neck, kissing and sucking on the underside of my ear as I wrapped my right leg around him, arching my back. The hair on my arms stood on their end – the phenomenon seemed to follow wherever his hands touched me.

My hands tangled themselves in his hair, tracing every muscle on his shoulders as hell kissed his way around my neck. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, and it made me wet as I slowly ground myself against him, all previous shyness forgotten. His hand reached under my legs and lifted me up so he was carrying me in his arms.