Chapter 18: The Edge of Jasmine: Chapter 18

“HELLO, BRIAN.”

Brian turned to see the person who was talking to him, but already recognized the voice to belong to Kimberly.

Kimberly didn’t wait for Brian to say hello back. She said, “I’m here now. You can go.”

Brian looked back at Samantha, lying unconscious on the hospital bed, and took another sip of his coffee. He had gotten the coffee a hour before, the only time he had left Samantha’s bedside since they had given him entrance into her room. The coffee was long since cold. He sipped it anyway.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kimberly,” he said.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“I’m staying.” His voice came out a low growl.

Kimberly paused. “I don’t think you should be here when she wakes up,” she finally admitted. “I don’t know if she’ll want that.”

Brian swallowed another sip of his cold coffee and looked at her. “What would possibly make you say that?”

Kimberly crossed her arms. “Didn’t you two just have a big fight? Didn’t she basically tell you she doesn’t want to see you?”

“Yeah, and thank God I didn’t listen to her,” Brian said, motioning to the bed where Samantha lay quietly.

“I guess you would look at it that way. Don’t get me wrong, Brian, I’m glad you were there to save my sister. I’m grateful,” she said, facing down Brian’s glare.

“Glad to hear, since I had to save her from your insane boyfriend.”

Kimberly’s lips pursed into a hard line. “He wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. We broke up. And no one feels worse about this than I do. I can’t believe I couldn’t tell what kind of person he really was. How could I have been so stupid….” Her eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that,” Brian said, contrite. “You can’t always tell. Some guys know how to hide their psychosis really well. There was no way for you to know what Scott would do.”

“But if I hadn’t traded glasses with Samantha that night at the club, Scott would have taken Samantha home and raped her in her sleep. And I never would have known what kind of guy I unleashed on my sister.”

Scott, after regaining consciousness in the back of the police car, had confessed to his crimes in the hopes of getting a lighter sentence. He knew he had messed up, there was no way of hiding what he had done now. But he thought he could make a deal.

So he admitted to drugging Samantha’s drink, not once, but twice: once at Cat’s Club, and once in Samantha’s own kitchen, hoping each time he could rape her and get away with it. He didn’t use the word rape, of course. He said the drug was only to relax her, since he knew she wanted him, but was only holding back out of guilt, because he was her sister’s boyfriend.

He had also broken into her shop, just to scare her he said, so she would come running to him for help, and realize what a nice guy he really was. Of course, he hadn’t counted on Brian showing up.

“Don’t blame yourself, Kimberly. I’m sure Samantha won’t,” Brian said.

“I hope not.” Kimberly wiped away an escaping tear. “But you’re right, you can’t always tell what kind of guy you’re dating. Just look at you. I never would have guessed what kind of guy you are.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I know what you are, Brian. I looked you up. You used to work at this hotel where people go for sex. My sister’s been there, hasn’t she? My sister, of all people. I’m guessing that’s where she met you.”

“It’s none of your business, Kimberly.”

“Don’t tell me it’s none of my business. My sister is my business. She’s the only family I’ve got left.” Her voice lowered to a hiss. “Tell me something, Brian: do you enjoy beating her up? Turning her into some kind of whipping post? Your own personal slave?”

Brian had to remind himself this was Samantha’s sister, otherwise he would have snapped at her to shut the fuck up. “You have no right to judge. You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand. You’re a sick jerk. You’re no better than Scott.”

Brian squeezed the styrofoam coffee cup in his hand so hard it bent inward. “Don’t you dare compare me to that lowlife you dated, Kimberly. You don’t know anything about me, or about the kind of relationship your sister and I have.” The force of his words made Kimberly cringe, but she recovered quickly.

“Your relationship? What relationship? She told you she needed space from you, yet here you are, hanging around. Maybe you don’t understand your relationship with her as well as you think you do. I think my sister was trying to tell you she was done playing your games, done with the drama. But she was too nice about it, and you just didn’t get it.”

“What drama?”

“Oh c’mon, Brian. She meets you at some kind of fancy sex hotel, and then suddenly here you are, available for more fun. So yeah, she took her chance to get her kink on a while longer. But there was no way the two of you could have a real future, Brian. What did you think, she’d be willing to settle down with a guy who used to work at a hotel for sex?”

“The Hotel Bentmoore isn’t like that–you don’t understand–”

“No, you don’t understand. Or maybe you do, but you just don’t want to face the truth. How many women have you slept with, as part of your job? How many women did you fuck because you were paid to? You’re no better than a male prostitute, Brian. There’s no way my sister could ever end up with a guy like you. You should just face it now, do the honorable thing, and let her go.”

Brian wanted to argue with her. He opened his mouth to refute what she said, but then he recalled Samantha’s own words, and he shut his mouth.

I can’t always wonder if you’re introducing me to a woman you already know, someone you’ve had sex with, someone you’ve been intimate with from your years at the Hotel Bentmoore.

Had that been Samantha’s way of saying she couldn’t be with him because of his past? Was Samantha trying to make him understand she would never be able to come to terms with it?

But…but Samantha had told him she loved him. Didn’t that matter?

Not enough to make things work between them, not if Samantha couldn’t stomach Brian’s former life. She said she couldn’t tolerate the secrets…but maybe that wasn’t the truth, or at least, not the whole truth. Maybe Samantha couldn’t see herself spending the rest of her life with a former Hotel Bentmoore host.

After all the wrangling, and arguing, and second-guessing, maybe it really was that simple.

Brian had always trusted his intuition, and his intuition had told him Samantha was the woman for him. But maybe he was not the right guy for Samantha. In another life, he could have been…but not with his history. And there was nothing he could do to change it.

Samantha was right, secrets could ruin a relationship…but the truth could be a bitch.

“When she wakes up, please tell Samantha I decided to go to Chicago on that business trip after all,” he said. “Please tell her…please tell her I wish her all the best.”

“I will.”

There were no laden looks between them, no goodbyes. Brian threw his half-filled coffee cup into the trash and left.