Blind Side, page 2
“Hmph,” she said, looking at her father. “I wonder what it would feel like to have two men love me like they love her? She’s going to be okay. They will make sure of it.”
“Karli, what are you talking about? I don’t think I want to even ask,” he said.
“The Doctor and Uncle Slow, they both love Aunt Lizzie, but not in the same way,” she said. “You don’t like her either way, but they love her.”
“How do you know?”
“She reached out to me for help because Uncle Slow was expecting her and she had a date with The Doctor. Aunt Lizzie didn’t want to die,” she said. “Good night, Daddy.”
“But why you? How is Hump connected to you, and how did she know to reach out and you’d feel her pain and know it was her?”
“Because she loves me. I can feel people who love me,” she said, looking at him and grinning from ear to ear. “Aww, Daddy. I love you too. Sleep well.”
She walked away as if what she’d just done was normal. None of it was normal. Normal left his life a long time ago and didn’t plan to come back for a visit to have tea on a Sunday afternoon. Ironically, Karli said Hump connected to her through love. He didn’t think the woman had it in her wicked soul to love anything or anyone, let alone a child, but he’d been wrong before.
They all had been wrong about her and it would be weeks, tough, physically demanding weeks before they saw the real Elizabeth Perkins, the woman who had been through the wringer, loved wrong, used often, and cast aside like worn shoes with the holes in the bottoms. They knew the Lizzie who survived getting over the hump and learned from being blindsided once too often to allow it to happen again.
In Louisville, a weakened Elizabeth Perkins recounted how she’d gotten to such a saddened stage of her life with nowhere to go but down and no one to travel the dark road to end her journey. She had saved one this time. There was no way to save more.
The irony was cruel. She lay in a bed owned by a man who barely made eye contact with her in conversation. She was attended by another who only made eye contact when he spoke with her. Life wasn’t fair. She had learned the hard way that love was also a vindictive bitch who had turned her into this monster that she’d become a lifetime ago in her younger years, from loving a man named Trey.
Chapter Two- Boundary
2008- Tybee Island, Georgia
Time is slow-moving in this world. It was an age-old story, of an overprivileged, rich handsome boy and a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. However, not only was Elizabeth from the wrong side of the tracks but she also was born into the wrong color of skin, at least by their standards. That didn't stop her from idolizing Trey McCallister and his world of advantage.
She wanted more than anything to be part of the exclusive world of country club memberships, fancy cars, expensive clothing, and shiny baubles to hang at her throat and wrists - and she was hell-bent on getting there. Although she was not born of wealth, she had been honored with a glossy mane of curly black hair, or good hair as the Geechees of Tybee Island called it. Standing at 5 feet 7, with long, well-shaped legs, ample bosom, and a smile that would make any orthodontist proud, she was by any standards a high-yellow thing. There were rumors among the Island natives that her mother was a descendant of a wayward McCallister's youthful indiscretion, which accounted for her good hair and very fair complexion. It irked her to no end that she should be a part of his world and by whatever Southern slave-herd mentality, she had to forfeit her life of luxury because her grandmother, or great-grandmother, had cleaned the kitchens of the McCallister’s' ancestral home.
By all rights, it was her home, too, and she would break the mores of a time that should be long forgotten and hook that McCallister boy with love and determination to make her his wife. Wife, not lover, not mistress, not monthly payment of child support. She wanted to come home to Windsong, the McCallister ancestral home – each night, climb into the feathered bed and rest her head on the same pillow as Trey. She had only but to get his attention and nature would do the rest.
Trey McCallister was the star quarterback of Johnson High School. Elizabeth had loved him long before that, though; she could recall when she first saw him at Ms. Murphy's first-grade class tea party at St. Michael's Catholic School. Ms. Murphy, a traditional Southern belle, firmly believed that all the young men and women would have appropriate table manners, and she was determined to give them their first lessons. Elizabeth had sat in the chair behind Trey and smiled inside at his boyish laughter, laughter that, each time she saw him or was within any proximity of his person, made her heart skip a small beat. Those feelings continued all through elementary school and into high school.
Elizabeth had tried out for cheerleading and in her first year, made the squad. By her senior year, she was head cheerleader and among the most popular girls in the school. Yet she and Trey McCallister had never said two words to each other until April 1, 1998. Ironically, Elizabeth had used the April Fool's celebration as a day to develop a spine. If it failed, then it had been a joke. If it succeeded, then she was well on her way to becoming Mrs. Trey McCallister. The spring dance was less than two weeks away and the Senior Prom loomed in the backdrop. It was now or never.
Upon seeing Trey walk down the corridor, she followed him at least five steps behind. Normally, he was never alone and was either accompanied by some idiotic blonde, an overdressed brunette, or a trio of "good ol' boys" that dogged his every step and gave in to his every command. But today he was alone. She approached him slowly and opened her mouth, willing the words to form on her palate.
"Trey," she whispered in an almost inaudible voice, and he turned slowly to see who had called his name.
His eyes raked her slender form slowly from head to toe, slowly returning and settling upon her full lips. She gave a nervous smile, drummed up the self-confidence she was inevitably known for, placed a manicured hand on her hip, and extended the other toward his middle. "Trey, hi, I am Elizabeth."
Pausing to watch his reaction, she then continued, "Elizabeth Perkins, and I was wondering if you would be interested in grabbing a burger with me later this evening?"
His eyebrows went up and a sardonic smile crossed his lips. Her chest heaved a slow rhythmic pattern that seemed to hypnotize his stare, and in that instant, she wanted to turn and run. He took the hand into his own.
"Well, what a pleasure to finally meet you, Elizabeth."
His slow Southern drawl epitomized years of cultured breeding that spoke volumes of his background. She smiled slightly and inclined her head slightly to the right awaiting his rejection of her offer, but it was slow in coming.
Instead, he surprised her by saying, "We have shared the same classroom, school bus, field trips, and school committees all our lives and have never," the smooth Southern drawl sent rivets through her body, "until this moment, been formally introduced."
His eyes now met hers with an intense gaze, which brought about the sudden realization that he knew who she was, and furthermore, had been aware of her soft presence. She did not mention the coincidence of being a member of all his organizations or the social clubs that would allow her entry. In a word, she had been a silent stalker all his life, but that was no matter now. She was touching him and felt rewarded with this bounty.
"I know," she said, "and I thought that I should rectify that little misfortune here and now."
Withdrawing her hand with ease and practice, she was thankful for all the babysitting jobs she had taken to pay for the manicures, the name-brand jeans and blouse, and the top-of-the-line shoes. Her extra money and allowance had also gone to Ms. Murphy for the past 10 years on etiquette courses that allowed her to drip the same honeyed tones as any well-bred Southern Belle. Outside of her address, no one would ever know that she was not a lady of breeding and class.
He lowered her hand. "Well, I am so glad that you did; however, if this is some form of April Fool's joke, beset upon my person by one of my many pals, I will not be amused."
The seriousness of his tone made her heart go out to him and she moved closer, half expecting him to take a step back, but when he did not, she snaked her hand out and placed it upon his chest, right above his heart, and was pleased to feel the increase of the beat - that dissonance against her palm.
"It's no joke, Trey, and I am very serious,” she said as she moved even closer.
"Oh, are you really?" he asked, placing his hand over hers.
Her breath came out low and husky, and she decided to take a step back. "Yes, I am really. It is not every day that I ask a man out on a date, and I am starting to second guess myself."
His other arm slowed her movement as it went around her waist, pulling her back closer. She placed both hands on his chest and again pushed herself backward from his grasp.
"I said burger, Trey McCallister, not a seven-course meal."
She raised her eyebrow to see if he understood her offer and did not misunderstand her offer. He seemed to read her thoughts and loosened his grip.
"I would be honored, Ms. Elizabeth Perkins, to grab a burger with you after school. Where shall I pick you up?"
Her mind was racing as fast as her heart. She had prepared herself for this moment for 11 years. She knew exactly where she wanted him to pick her up.
"I will meet you out front in the quad at 3:20."
She waited with bated breath, for this moment would tell her whether he would be honored to be seen in public with her or ashamed that he would be seen in public with someone outside of his class and race. He took her hand in his and giving it a small kiss on the palm, "Make it 3:30," he said with ease.
He dropped her hand and in that smooth glide of walk, he sauntered away from her like a panther seeking a place to rest after a large meal.
SHE ATTENDED THE SENIOR Prom with Trey. They both applied for college at the University of Georgia in Athens and drove home together for the holidays. They would have dinner with her parents on Christmas Eve and dinner with his parents on Christmas night. The changes in Trey were slight, and his ease into lascivious mischief was even slighter. They had decided to spend New Years of their senior year in Athens, and Trey decided to have a party of his own for a few of his select friends, or his constituents as he liked to call them, one of whom worked for a large firm in Atlanta where, if he was lucky, he would land a job that would help him cut his teeth before returning to Tybee Island to take over his father's business.
These were special people and he "HAD" to make a good impression. Elizabeth agreed that she would help any way she could and something in his eyes as he spoke to her made her uncomfortable. "I am so glad to hear you say that, darling. It does truly mean the world to me," and he recited the words of their song, "I'm everything I am," and paused.
In a parrot fashion, she replied, “Because you loved me."
In a dark room off the main corridor, he offered Lizzie to his constituent as a means to close the deal. Elizabeth, or Lizzie as he now called her, closed her eyes as the pot-bellied man slobbered on her breast and pawed at her body, grunting and groaning as he slavered over her labia with his crusted lips. He wanted to enter her and she forbade him, saying that she "felt filthy even allowing him this freedom."
No other man but Trey had ever touched her in this way, and if doing this meant he would get the job he wanted to ensure their future, then this would be her sacrifice to the cause. She did not realize that her self-sacrifice would be called upon every other week for the next year.
Trey landed the job in Atlanta at a prestigious architecture firm, and although they had discussed marriage, he had purchased the condo and moved her in, saying that now was not the time. It had been five now, and the past year of indiscretions with his "constituents," or his clients had become taxing on her nerves. In the past month, there were repeat "customers," as he called them, who pressed her for more participation, and for the last act, Trey insisted upon watching, encouraging her to perform fellatio on his biggest client as he watched. She was sickened to her stomach, but to please Trey, she complied.
She could hear Trey moaning in the corner as he masturbated to the act he was witnessing, and she thought her humiliation could get no worse until he crossed the room and ejaculated upon her hair and face, which brought his lip-humping friend to a frenzied climax, and he made his deposit on the other side of her face. Trey patted her shoulder as his client gathered himself and said, "Ahhh, need a drink, my boy!"
Trey escorted the beefy man back to the living room, and over his shoulder, as casual as he would ask her to pick up his dry cleaning, he said "Honey, get yourself cleaned up while I take care of Joe."
She scrubbed herself clean until her skin felt raw and climbed into bed with her back to the side where he slept. He entered the bedroom three hours later and placed his platinum American Express card on the nightstand.
"You and I should both enjoy this bountiful windfall," he said and added, "Go and pick yourself up something real nice tomorrow, honey, and treat yourself to the spa on me," he cast over his shoulder.
Whistling, he walked into the bath and started the shower, humming that fucking Celine Dion song.
THE TWICE-A-MONTH SHOWS increased to once a week. The "constituents" progressed from one each to two, and then three with Trey in the room rounding out the quartet. It no longer became about oral acts but had declined gradually to her being a slab of meat on the floor of hotel rooms while men she did not know filled every orifice of her body. When they were done, she would shower and Trey would give her a shiny bauble to either hang at her throat or wrist or an expensive item of clothing. He would run his fingers through her jewelry chest like a pirate admiring his bounty. However, for this last act of humiliation, he had rewarded her with a fancy car, a two-seater with all the lights and buzzers. She felt sick, so sick that she could not shake the feeling and took to her bed.
Three days later, she could not get out of bed. She was depressed. She called his office and was informed that he was no longer employed at Hillard and Holfrum and had not been for the past year. Her nausea grew. She called his cell phone and got his voice with a great deal of laughter in the background, which sounded like women.
Putting on her best face so that he could hear it through the phone, she asked, "Hey, honey, where are you? I was wondering if we could meet for lunch."
She paused for his forthcoming excuse of why he could not make it, but instead of giving him a moment, she continued, "I will be by your office. I'll just pop up and get you." The back-ground music stopped and the laughing voices subsided.
"No, honey, why don't you join me here at the Country Club for lunch?"
His voice sounded strained. Anger grew within her because if he was straining, it was probably to hold back the orgasm that was about to explode in some idiotic blonde girl's mouth, or even worse, some over-dressed brunette was probably wrapped around his waist, fitting his below-average pecker. And in the past year, after so many men that he had pimped her out to, she came to realize that he was just that—below average.
Forcing a smile to her lips, she said, "Of course, sweetie. I will meet you there at one?"
With grim determination, she shook off the depression, got dressed, and made her face up to cover the dark circles under her eyes, grateful they were not swollen but she had not cried in the past four years. Tears seemed to have evaded her for the past two years as she performed sordid act after sordid act for Trey and his “constituents."
Placing her Romeo Gigli sunglasses upon her pert nose, she made her way to her brand new convertible red Jaguar that he had traded in the Lexus to purchase. Upon walking into the Country club, she was informed that Mr. McCallister was in the Sun Dancer Suites and she was instructed to join him there. Entering the room, she nearly choked from the smoke from the cigars.
She recognized all the men in the room to include James McCallister, Trey's father. Outside of his father, she'd had some form of supervised sex with every man in this room and a terrifying thought tore at the back of her mind. He couldn't, he wouldn't...her eyes implored Trey's in a state of panic, while his only response to her was a wicked grin that seeped across his face. Big Jim McCallister stepped forward.
"Ahhh, heah man feels real special, purty lady, that you have quite a talent for making and considering it's mah birthday, Aah am all aquiver to see what yah is going to do fah me.
Her eyes were frantic, her heart raced and she knew deep inside that Trey McCallister had never planned to marry her and never would, after all she had done. No common whore would ever live at Windsong or rather be the mistress of the manor. He had only used her to obtain his goal, but what was it, to be a low-life, upscale pimp? She had to get out of here, but where could she go, what would she do? She had a marketing degree but at Trey's insistence, she had never worked. She had no job experience, outside of giving good blowjobs to strange middle-aged white men. Big Jim broke her train of thought.
"My great-grandaddy had a fondness for black women, and Ahh excused my boy while he sowed his oats, and Ahh must say, Aah am eager as a beaver to try yah skillsets mahhself."
Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed back the nausea. Then they threw her away like a worn pair of shoes, hogtied in the trunk of her own car to be squeezed to death by a car crusher.
ELIZABETH PERKINS DIED that day and Lizzie was born—born to seek vengeance on men who used women. Lizzie swore after that day that every hard-on used against a woman or a child as a form of subjugation would feel her wrath.
She made a point of it. She made a point of never allowing love to get in her way. She made a point of protecting her heart.
She made of point of killing bad men. Then she ran into Michael Neary, who introduced her to his cousin Gabriel, a man she immediately respected because his eyes always stayed on her face, and when he made eye contact with her, it was to make a point and not hit on her or find a means in which to get her in bed. For this, she appreciated the man and wanted to be in his circle.
