Page 47 of Hendrix
After blinking at the bright light of day, I slipped out of bed to try the door (locked) and hunted for my cell (gone). Then, after brushing my teeth in the adjoining bathroom with the new toothbrush that had been left out for me, I’d looked in the closet to see Hendrix’s clothes hanging there neatly. I pulled a tee out and slipped it on, and since then, I’d lain on top of the bed, wondering how my life had come to this.
Six months ago, I was (mostly) happily married. Antoni and I had our bad days, but what marriage didn’t? I loved my husband, not in the way I loved Hendrix, but Toni had a piece of my heart.
I met Antoni not long after Hendrix left for Virginia. I visited Philly to complete a specialist class on highlighting techniques and went out for a drink with a few of the other stylists.
Toni sent champagne over, and within an hour, we were chatting like I’d known him all my life. There was an instant easiness between us, something that appealed at the time because my relationship and subsequent breakup with Hendrix had been as far from comforting as a girl could get. Antoni was easygoing and made me smile, the opposite of Hendrix, who, in the last months of our relationship, only ever made me cry. He’d wrecked me in a way where I knew I’d never fully recover all my pieces because that love, for me at least, was soul-deep.
Although with Toni, it wasn’t an all-consuming, life-shattering kind of love, he still made me happy. My marriage was something more realistic based on mutual respect and comfort until about a year ago, when I overheard Antoni on the phone sounding suspiciously like he was intimidating a local businessman we knew into helping him clean up some money.
That one event opened the floodgates, and I found myself looking deeper.
Whereas before, I’d wander into Toni’s study and not take much notice of his conversations, suddenly, I’d listen more intently, trying to ascertain if there was a threat behind it.
I began to ask Antoni more about his firm and who worked for him. I inquired about his clients and what exactly he did with their money that made him so successful that he could afford a house in an exclusive part of the city along with all our nice cars and expensive clothes. He proceeded to bamboozle me with financial lingo and changed the subject, and I began to grow more uncomfortable that my opulent lifestyle was being funded by something dark.
Coming to terms with the breakdown of my marriage was tough for me. My first marriage lasted six years. My ex-husband’s family and mine were friends and business associates back in Charleston, where I grew up. He cheated on me with his secretary (cliché, I know), and rather than stay in the marriage just to keep up appearances like my husband and our families expected, I rebelled and left.
That was when I landed in Wyoming.
That was when I met Hendrix.
And that was when, for the first time in my sheltered, privileged life, I fell head over heels in love.
It was crazy because Hendrix was nothing like anybody I’d ever known before. He was long-haired, muscular, tattooed, devil-may-care, and the most exciting man I’d ever met.
We started as a one-night stand that turned into two nights, then three, and before I knew it, I was hooked.
It didn’t take much for him to reel me in. Hendrix was a beautiful man who had an air of confidence that put stars in my eyes. I think I fell in love with him on our first night when I stumbled across a honkytonk back road bar just outside our hometown. He was there alone, playing guitar and singing, and we ended up talking for hours. That night, I opened up about myself for the first time ever. He made me feel like I could tell him anything and he’d never judge.
He made me feel safe.
Maybe the initial attraction was all about the challenge he presented or the blue eyes that could see deep inside my soul. Maybe it was the way we’d be having a lighthearted conversation, and then he’d say something so wise and profound that it would stop me in my tracks. Or maybe it was the way he’d fuck me senseless, then afterward, saunter naked to the bathroom with his muscles rippling and ink on show, securing his long, naturally sun-highlighted hair on top of his head as he went.
They were the best of times, fun and carefree, and I walked on air, if only for a while.
Hendrix made me want things I’d never desired before, and he made me dream of a life that was unattainable because it turned out that my dreams and his never really aligned.
The best of times turned into the worst of times. He played me, and it sliced me to my core. Hendrix left me without even telling me he was going, like I was insignificant to his life, and it battered my confidence.
Until I met Antoni.
A loud knock on the door made me startle. My mouth went dry, and my head turned slowly toward it as I heard the key twisting in the lock. A taut heaviness flooded my muscles as my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and I readied myself to spring from the bed and claw at the asshole who’d enclosed me in this room like I was some kind of fucking criminal on house arrest.
The door flew open, and a familiar voice called, “Anna, it’s me.”
My eyes widened, and my head reared back as I watched a beautiful brunette strut into my room.
“Freya,” I breathed, then suddenly I was up and across the room, wrapping my arms around my old friend. For the first time in weeks, I felt my shoulders relax, and I realized just how long I’d been walking on eggshells. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”
Freya pulled back and grinned at me. “I lost my shit when I found out Drix had locked you in here. For someone so smart, he’s really clueless about what’s appropriate, especially around pregnant women. He thinks he’s giving you time to adjust and letting you rest without people bothering you at all hours. Believe me, there’s curiosity about you down in that bar, and it’s killing a lot of cats, especially ones with big, fake tits.”
My heart sank. “Club girls.”
“Yeah,” she replied, leading me to the bed and gently sitting me down on the mattress beside her. “Do you want to know what’s been going on?”
“You mean with Hendrix?” I asked.
She nodded.
