Mr Garcia (Mr Series)

Sebastian stares at me for a moment, and then without a word, he turns and walks inside the house.

My eyes widen, Sebastian is Brandon’s father?

What the actual fuck? He has a kid?

“Brandon!” I splutter as I march in after Sebastian. “We’re just friends.”

“April, you know it’s more than that,” he argues, following us.

Sebastian turns and glares at me with such contempt that I have never seen before.

“I swear to you, Seb, we are just friends.” I shake my head in a panic. “There’s nothing going on.”

Brandon looks between us in confusion. “How can you say that? You stay in my room all the time.”

“On the floor!” I gasp.

Sebastian’s eyes hold mine. His stance is cold and detached.

“I love you, April,” Brandon says.

Jesus Christ. What the hell? He chooses now to do this?

How the fuck is he Sebastian’s son? They couldn’t be more opposite.

“Brandon… enough!” I snap in an outrage, my eyes glued to Sebastian. “We are not a thing. Get it through your head!”

Sebastian’s eyes flicker red. “Do not speak to my fucking son like that.”

“But… he’s got it wrong.”

“I saw it with my own fucking eyes.” Sebastian steps toward me, and I step back, our eyes locked. “You think you can play him… while you’re playing me?” He whispers darkly.

I shake my head. “No, Sebastian. I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.”

Brandon looks between us. “Wait… what? Do you two know each other?”

I stay silent, scared to speak. Sebastian’s chest rises and falls as he struggles for control.

“Do you know my father?” Brandon demands.

Sebastian’s eyes are fixed on mine.

I stay silent.

“Answer him!” Sebastian yells.

My eyes fill with tears, and I nod.

Brandon’s eyes flick between us. “How?”

My heart begins to race. Sebastian’s scaring me. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s mean when he’s angry.

“Seb,” I whisper. “Brandon and I are just friends. I swear to you.”

“You stay in my room. We were just kissing not two minutes ago,” Brandon cuts in. “You know we are more than friends. Everybody knows it.”

Sebastian’s jaw ticks with fury.

“How do you know my father, anyway?” Brandon demands again.

Oh, for the love of God, just shut the fuck up, kid. You’re ruining my life here!

I look between them.

“Answer his question,” Sebastian whispers darkly.

“Sebastian.” I shake my head. “I swear to you…”

“Dad?” Brandon asks. “What’s going on?”

Sebastian’s eyes drift to Brandon. “She’s not the girl for you.”

Brandon frowns.

Yes, tell him I’m your girl.

“Tell him what you do for money, April.”

My face falls.

“Sebastian, stop.” I snap. If he says this out loud, he can’t take it back. We can’t go back. “I mean it. Do not go there.”

Sebastian’s chin tilts up, as if my words only throw fuel to the flame. “Cartier works in a strip club.”

Brandon’s face falls. “Who’s Cartier?”

“That’s the stage name April uses.”

“Stop,” I cry.

We stare at each other as the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

“April’s a prostitute who charges men to have sex with her.”

Brandon’s face falls. “How do you know that?”

No.

Sebastian’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Because I paid her to have sex with me.”

My eyes fill with tears.

“You had sex with April?” Brandon frowns.

“Yes.”

I let out an audible gasp of horror.

“She was playing both of us,” Sebastian whispers.

I screw up my face in tears. “No, I wasn’t.”

Betrayal floods my soul.

Sebastian’s cold eyes hold mine. “Get out of my house, you lying whore.” He steps forward. “Go near my son again and see what fucking happens to you.”

What the fuck?

Shame fills my every cell, and I sob out loud at his hurtful words.

“Get the hell out of my house!” he shouts at the top of his voice, as he loses control.

I turn and stumble. If he hit me with a physical blow, it would have been less painful.

I need to get away from him.

I can hardly see from the tears streaming down my face. I stumble out the front door and look around. It’s dark and starting to rain. I have no idea where to go.

I scurry around to the side of the house and stand up against the wall, hiding. I don’t want to see them… either of them.

“Get out of my house, you lying whore.”

I slap my hand over my mouth to quieten my sobs.

“April.” Brandon comes running out of the house, and I press myself further against the wall. “April!” he calls in the rain. “Where are you?”

Sebastian walks out after him onto the front lawn.

“What the fuck have you done?” Brandon turns and cries.

“She’s been lying to both of us.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I can’t believe you slept with her!” Brandon cries.

Silence.

Pain lances through my chest.

“Come inside,” Sebastian says.

“I love her,” Brandon cries.

“I know.”

“You’ve ruined everything!”

“She’s not the girl for you. I’m sorry, but I could never lie to you, and I could never keep a secret like that from you. I love you too much.”

My head rests back against the bricks. The rain is beginning to fall harder now, and I taste hot, salty tears on my lips.

What about me?

This is it for us. . . there’s no coming back from this.

He told his son that I’m a prostitute.

My chest tightens. I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true.

“I hate you!” Brandon cries.

“Come inside and hate me.”

Silence.

“Buddy, come on. Inside.”

I’m overcome with shame. I’ve never felt so abandoned in my life.

“Where did she go?” Brandon asks. “April!” he calls out.

The front door slams shut, and I put my head into my hands, crying in silence.

Sebastian walks out to the street and looks one way and then the other. He drops his head and pushes his hands into his trouser pockets. He stands in the rain for an extended time, and then eventually, slowly walks back inside.

The door slams shut, and I sob, my shoulders bouncing as the tears fall.

“Get out of my house, you lying whore.” The shame.

This hurts.

Is that how he sees me? All the time, while I was falling, he saw me as nothing but a whore?

“She’s a prostitute who charges men to have sex with her.”

My breath quivers as I try to hold in my sobs.

I take out my phone and order an Uber. I have to keep wiping my eyes so I can see the screen.

“Because I paid her to have sex with me.”

I’m embarrassed, I’m ashamed and so confused.

I’m fucking hurt.

And the worst part is, he’s right. What he said is all true. Why the hell did I work there?

“Go near my son again and see what fucking happens to you.”

With a shaky hand, I stuff my phone back into my bag and slide down the wall to sit on the ground.

And in the rain and dark, I cry… alone.

The television drones in the background of the hotel room. I’ve been here for three days. I couldn’t stand the thought of returning back to the dorm on Friday night after I left. I still can’t stand it today.

I can’t risk running into Brandon… or Lara. Anyone. What would I say to them?

And I don’t know what to do.

I’ve never been so low.

And not because of what happened on Friday night, but because of what happened in the two weeks before that.

I let poverty take my morals—something that should never have been for sale.

And I met him…

The permanent lump in my throat is big and it hurts, I can’t even think of our time together without crying.

I thought it was special.

Only it wasn’t. I was delusional, seeing something in a man that wasn’t even there.

He isn’t who I thought he was.

That’s the worst part: knowing that I let myself down. I was so blinded by his light.

My vision clouds as the tears come once more.

I’m at the precipice of my life. A turning point. But I just don’t know which way to go.

I want to go home. I want to pack up and return to America to be with my family.

But then this will just be another failure to add to my life.

My mind drifts back to my worst day. The day I came home sick from work and walked in on my beloved husband having sex in our bed with a girl he worked with.

The way he looked up at me… while he was still inside of her.

My stomach drops. I can still see it so clearly—can still feel the pain of my heart breaking. Still see him running from the room with an erection… for her.

I close my eyes and swallow around the lump in my throat, it’s big and it hurts the entire way down.

At least then I had my dignity.

I inhale with a deep and shaky breath, “You’ll be okay,” I say to myself. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I wipe a lone tear from my face.

But I don’t know if I will be okay.

This cut is deep.

The door opens.

“April.” The woman smiles.

I grip my handbag and stand. “Hello.”

“Come in, dear.” She ushers me into her office. “Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you.” I sit down while she goes behind her desk.

“I understand you are looking to transfer your scholarship to Manchester University?”

“Yes.” I force a smile. “That’s right.”

After a week in a hotel doing some serious soul searching, I’ve decided that I’m not letting another man take something from me. This is my dream, and damn it, I’m fucking keeping it alive.

The woman stares at me for a moment. “You do know that Manchester doesn’t have the credibility we have here in London.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t see why—”

“I need to get out of London,” I cut her off.

Her eyes hold mine. “Are you okay?”

“I need to get out of this campus. I can’t be here anymore.”

She stares at me. “Have you been assaulted?”

I shake my head, trying to keep it together. “Please, just organize the transfer.”

“Are the police involved? Can I get a counsellor to spend some time with you?”

“I’m fine. I just had a really bad break up, and I need to move.”

She sits back in her chair and exhales heavily. “Okay.” She types something into her computer. “When would you like to start?”

“Next month.” I shrug. “It’ll take a few weeks to move and get myself sorted.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Do you think it will be okay?” I ask. “I mean, do you think I will get in?”

“They’re not at capacity, and your scholarship is transferable.”

“I also won’t be needing dormitory accommodation.”

“Where will you live?” She frowns.

“I’m getting an apartment. Rent is a lot cheaper there.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tonight. As soon as I pack up my room.”

“Has something happened, April? Can I help you in any way?”

My eyes well with tears. Please don’t be nice to me… I’ll lose my shit. “I’m fine but I do need to leave now.” I stand to finish the conversation.

“Well, don’t sign a lease until I get this approved, okay?”

“Thank you.” I give her a weak smile.

I walk across the campus to my room. The classes are on at this time so the hallways are relatively quiet. I want to be packed up and out of here by three o’clock before everyone gets home.

I put the key into my door, and Penelope’s door opens, bringing her into view.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hello.” I struggle with the key, eventually pushing the door open to walk inside.

She stands in my doorway, holding the door open. “Where have you been?”

“I stayed with a friend,” I lie.

“Word has it that you’re turning tricks.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Who told you that?”

“Apparently Brandon is heartbroken. He confided in Lara.”

I nod as I get a running picture of events. “And Lara has told everyone.”

She crosses her arms. “Yep…pretty much.”

My eyes fill with tears of shame.

“You alright?”

I press my lips together and shake my head. “I’m leaving.”

“Now?”

I nod.

She walks into my room. “I’ll help you pack.”

She begins to fold my bed linen and take things out of my wardrobe and lay them on the bed.

I stare at her for a moment.

“Well, what are you doing?” she asks. “Don’t you want to be out of here before the gossip columns go into meltdown? You know what these fuckers are like.”

I give her a lopsided smile and pull my suitcase out of my wardrobe.

It’s rare that people surprise me.

“Thanks.”

SIX YEARS LATER. . .