Waiting To Exhale

Fifty

My bikini is black and a little more than revealing. Monica complements me on my strong, muscular legs and my tight ass. I can thank Mason for that, always having me work out and eat healthily. I'm just thankful I'm not showing. I don't know how long before I do. I don't even know if I'm going to keep it.

Monica calls her chauffeur. When he arrives we head down. He opens the door for us and I thank him.

The hotel is quite nice. It's beautiful and expensive but apparently, Monica knows a guy that knows a guy that knows a guy. Quite simple. The hotel is amazingly large and clean. Sand is laid out around the pool to give off the illusion that we're actually on a beach somewhere. I feel like I'm on an island somewhere. The decorations are quite tropical too. The bar looks amazing. Monica tells me they serve their drinks from a giant bowl-cup. I stand to the side and wait for her to order our drinks. I know I won't drink all of it. And I know I shouldn't be drinking now that I have this thing growing inside me but I want to. I shouldn't even be pregnant. I'm only sixteen...

I clear my head as I take a sip of my fruity drink. It tastes amazing, with barely any alcohol as I can tell. "See, this is fun. Come dance with me." Monica demands, grabbing my arm when some weird music starts playing from the large sound system near the end of the pool, away from any accidental spilling of drinks or knocking over. I don't resist. I get up and follow her to the dance floor. We join the mass of sweaty bodies. Monica and I sway our delicate bodies to the slow rhythm of the music;

"Whine slow for meh, tick-tock on me. Baby, I love it like that. I wanna move slow to you. Move cautiously. Baby, I love it like that."

I'm not one for reggae but this song is just touching my body. I don't even care when I feel large hands around my waist, hips pressed against my butt. Monica dance in front of us with a handsome young guy on her. My body moves in sync to the beat and I let it. "Damn girl, you know what you doing." The guy in dancing with complements. He's pretty short for a guy but he's really muscular and has a gorgeous tan and nice smooth pink lips.

I smile. "Thanks."

"What's your name? Number?"

"Look I have a boyfriend and we're probably not going to see each other after this. Let's just have fun now," I admit, remembering the last time I went partying. As if that didn't cause me enough trouble. I have no business being in places like this anyway. I'm underage and this fake I.D. is only going to get me so far. I don't want anything like this on my record. It would ruin my chances of a scholarship, not that I'm actually considering going to college anymore. I really don't need to. I have Mason. He makes me happy and he supports me.

He makes me happy and he supports me.

That's what I have to tell myself. That's what I have to convince myself. He's not just going to let me go and so I have to learn to deal with this. I have to stop making him angry. I can't do that anymore, especially not with this thing in my stomach. Until I decide what to do with it I need to be cautious. Whatever happens, needs to be on my terms, not anyone else's, or due to any circumstances. I feel the pinch of a headache wash over me. I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them again. I peel away from the handsome guy I was dancing with. He whines in protest but I brush it off. Monica grabs my arm and yanks me back gently. I tell her I just need to go home when she asks where I'm going.

I can't afford to be a kid anymore. And what I'm doing, sneaking into clubs, drinking and dancing upon strangers is a childish thing to do. I burst through the double doors, running into a woman in the process. I apologize and try to maneuver around them.

"Liv?"

I pause. Looking up, "Jen. What're you doing here?"

She toys with the string of her silk dress as she looks down at me, biting her gloss-covered lip. "Olivia I thought we were friends. I told you things I haven't even told Kenyan or Frankie and you just up and leave like that. The hell's your problem?"

"I just...did you know?" I ask in a quiet voice. Jen looks at me confused. I stand up a little taller and ask her again, "did you know he put his hands on me, that I'm not the first girl he's done it to?"

"He puts his hands on you? I had no idea, Liv. Oh my gosh...are...are you okay?" She uses her free hand to cover her mouth. Her eyebrows crease with worry as she awaits my response.

I sigh, "so you really didn't know?"

"Of course not. Liv I'm no saint but I'm a decent person. I would never have let you stay with my brother if I would have known. I can't believe he actually puts his hands on females. He told me he would never..."

"Your brother's messed up in the head. He needs help."

"Wait a minute now. Don't you try to act like no saint. Kenyan told me all about you and Dylan. You cheated on him. He loves you and that's what you did for him," she says.

"I feel awful about that but I can't do anything to change that now. You chose to stay even after he hit you so that's your fault," She says, her voice raging with anger. She takes a step towards me, dating me to try anything. I step back. I'm no fighter and I've seen what Jen can do. She and the girls beat those girls down when they tried to jump me.

I place my hip and stare at Jen. She had no right to say that. "You know how manipulative your brother is. I don't come from anything-"

"That's right. You don't. You wouldn't be anything if I and my brother hadn't come along and saved your ass. You should be grateful. We didn't have to do it." She rolls her eyes and pushes past me on her way out. I turn around and watch her leave. She's supposed to be my friend. How could she say those things to me?