Christine Zolendz: Brutally Beautiful

Unclasping my first aid kit, I tore through the bag looking for anything that I could use.

Tearing off the cap of a bottle of peroxide, I poured it straight over my hands, letting it spill all over my lap. “DAMN, that HURTS!” I screamed out when the cold liquid flowed into my cuts, making my body explode with white-hot pain. I bit my teeth into the soft leather of the front seat headrest to silence my cries.

Jen pulled out a few butterfly bandages, and when the stinging of the peroxide settled to a dull ache, I began methodically cleaning and sealing my lacerations, biting down on my lip hard when the pain was too much. It was a freaking miracle that there were no deep puncture wounds, but still, this was enough. It was all enough…I’d had enough. I could feel how bruised and swollen both my eyes sockets were, and my lip felt as if it was split in half. Thank God, it wasn’t . When the reality of the situation hit me, I looked up at her, “We need new names, don’t we? And we need to get rid of my car.”

We gave each other a measured stare. Without a doubt, we both knew there was no fixing this situation. We did what we had to do, and now we had to move on. There was no going back, and truthfully, I was so relieved . I inhaled deeply, and then slowly puffed out my breath. Even though it hurt like mad, I smiled. I was free .

Her lips curled into a smile to match mine. “I want to be Bree Masterson and I want to be at least five years younger than I really am. Think I can still pass for 28?”

My laughter made me grimace and moan in pain. “Sure, just clean off all the blood, that’ll take at least two to three years off you.” After scrubbing my face with a few scrunched up alcohol swabs I found, I slowly pulled on clean clothes. “I like the name Lainey. Lainey Nevaeh. I don’t care about my age though. I’ll stay 32.” It was the only name that kept repeating itself in my head as I cleaned myself. It meant something to me, although I didn’t think anybody else would have understood.

“Ah, yeah, because you never were like any normal teen and roasted yourself in the sun, you could still pass for twenty-one. Why the last name Never?” she asked slipping her legs into a clean pair of jeans in exchange for her bloodied ones.

“Not the word never. N. E. V. A. E. H, it’s heaven spelled backwards. I don’t know, maybe because, I’m not in that hell anymore. ” Pulling a compact mirror out of my purse, I tried to cover up the redness of my swollen eyes as much as I could. “There’s no use with the make-up, is there? Let’s just get a few drinks and find a place to sleep. We are so deep in the Adirondacks that we should be fine here for a few days.”

The bright pink neon light that flashed the bar’s name read Mc Smexymelts , with a dancing neon ass-shaking animated sign next to it. “Holy crud, Sam… ah damn …I meant… Lainey, we’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Trying not to limp too much with the burning sting from the cuts and scrapes on my legs as they rubbed against the material of my pants, I made my way to the entrance of the bar. “Yeah, Bree , we are really going to have a drink in a strip bar. I don’t care how many lap dances I see or how many snail trails decorate the poles. We both need a drink after all of that .” I waved my hands in the air in the direction of the dark patch of highway we had just come from.

She touched my elbow before I could reach for the door, a slow smile building on her battered face. “No, I meant, we’re really done with it all. We’re not going back, are we?”

“Freaking LOOK at me. I will never go back there. I don’t care what I just gave up. None of that stuff is worth my freedom and my sanity. To hell with them all,” I said, meaning every word. Then I laughed. I laughed and smiled for my freedom. Hell, I wanted to break out into a cheer, but I needed that drink first.

The cozy warmth of the bar was the first thing I noticed, the second was the sweet smells of cinnamon and vanilla. It was like a slutty Bed and Body store. The walls were painted a deep rich burgundy and the tables and chairs were a dark cherry wood. A long bar graced one whole side of the wall and a dimly lit stage decorated the backdrop.

Having never stepped foot in a strip joint before, Bree’s eyes widened as they scanned around the room, taking it all in. Me, I’d been to tons of them when I was younger, the result of being stuck around so many guys and never having many girlfriends to relax with. It didn’t faze me a bit.

Grabbing Bree’s hand, I pulled her to the bar and settled myself on a tall elegant stool, complete with velvet cushion. The stage was empty, and just a few patrons, a mixture of male and female, sat at tables, eating and drinking.

“Well, this stinks. I thought I was going to see some strange cooch climbing up some poles,” Bree chuckled, as she slid her body over a stool.

“Dancers don’t come on ‘til ten, love,” a deep voice called out from nowhere. Bree and I both looked at each other, and then scanned the bar for the person who belonged to the voice that answered us. We came up empty. Her eyes met back up with mine, wearing a furrowed brow.

“Wow. Impressive. Hairy McTittieBounce’s Bar has an invisible bartender,” I chuckled. “Well, Mr. Invisible Bartender, we need the strongest drink you can make.”

A head of thick sandy blond hair rose up from behind the bar in front of us, and the prettiest face you ever saw was attached to it, complete with a pair of clichéd baby blue eyes. No, not pretty, beautiful . Blah, like a damn Ken doll. God, men weren’t supposed to be that pretty . Handsome, yes. Pretty, no. But, this guy? This guy was beautiful .

It kind of made me want to roll my eyes and gag. I might have, if my face didn’t hurt so much.

The moment he laid eyes on us, the Ken doll’s eyebrows arched up to his hairline and he made a little strangled gasp-like sound. “Are…Are you okay?” he asked me. A light British accent tinted his words. Well, wasn’t that a bowl of yum . A beautiful man with an accent; it was going to be impossible to get Bree out of here.

I offered him my best smile, which caused one of the cuts on my lip to bleed again and he quickly handed me a wad of cocktail napkins. “Are you saying I don’t look okay ?” I gasped in mock horror, and then tried for a wink with my less swollen eye. “What? Do I have something hanging from my nose?” I asked, laughing absurdly and patting my lip with the napkins he had offered.

I had to crack jokes and laugh at myself, because the reality of the situation was too much for me otherwise. Life is tough; you have to endure the bad with the good, because the alternative is so… final .

I will endure this .

Next to me, Bree put her head down, covered her head with her arms and giggled into the wood. The bright purple welt across her cheek was darkening by the minute and didn’t help her look any better.

The Ken doll paused to examine my face and reached out his hand, touching my chin lightly, while I tried not to flinch, “Well, it can’t be too bad if you’re both laughing about it, yeah? You need me to round up some boys and give somebody an arse kicking?” If my cheeks weren’t so discolored with bruises, he probably would have noticed the hot blush that surged right under my skin.

“Um, no. Thank you, though. Just a few drinks, okay? Anything that will numb all this puffy loveliness we got going on,” I said, slowly leaning my face away from his hand. Why in the world would a man think it would be comfortable for a woman to be touched when she looked as battered as I did?