Sydney Bay Janes

I was sitting in the open window with highway facing views, eating lunch with Chyna - we had Chipotle, a personal fav.

Rielle and Amber were watching old episodes of Jersey Shore on Hulu and bagging on Ronnie. Then there was Lana who just scrolled on Tiktok and liked every video she saw about how trash men are.

Otherwise, it was a normal Saturday in the middle of September.

Tony hadn't shown his face in three days since the last incident, that's the longest he'd ever left me alone at a time.

Chyna wasn't showing much trust in me lately, either. Our conversations got shorter after she asked if I was going to keep seeing him. I couldn't explain why I put up with him-- no one knew about my past. So, to Chyna I just looked like the other dumb girls who couldn't leave toxic men behind. Though, she stayed by my side, probably thinking she's protecting me.

"--Alright, Delaney, I have to go; it was nice talking to you," I spoke in the phone.

My God-mother had just called to catch up. She asked a million and one questions which I dodged by getting her to talk about herself and whatever man she was dating this month.

She said "I love you," and then let me hang up after fifteen minutes.

I sneezed.

"Bless you," Chyna mumbled, breaking the silence.

I smiled at her and scooted closer.

"Back up, white girl," she teased, finally warming up.

"Oh, Chy," I pouted, putting my head on her shoulder, "are you mad at me?"

Her facial expression as a reaction looked pain. She relaxed her posture and exhaled through her nose. "No, Syd, I'm not. I'm just-"

"Disappointed, huh?" I sulked.

She did a double take. "Well how can I be mad at you with those Barbie-doll eyes? You're so cute. Look, Syd, I just want you to get out of that relationship before you get hurt."

I nodded but let it go in one ear and out the other.

Rielle, Lana, and Amber eavesdropped. Ri gasped and led her and Amber over to us.

"What the Hell, who's hurting you, Syd?" she asked, worried.

Amber put her hands on my shoulders for comfort.

"I hate men," Lana murmered.

I looked up at them, not knowing what to say. "Oh. No, yo guys-"

"Don't be like Sammi!" Rielle blurted, referencing the reality stars turbulent relationship.

While Chyna, Lana, and Amber sucked their teeth at Rielle for her poor take, I found her funny.

I squeezed Amber's supple hand.

"I know every dumb girl says this, but I know what I'm doing, and I'm fine. You guys just don't understand," I made clear. I even sat up and smiled to come off more confidently.

Chyna didn't look convinced, still.

"We should go out tonight," Rielle suggested. We all agreed, getting excited at the idea.

"Yeah; go out, find some hot guys. I mean, we're all single," Chyna commented, side-eyeing me.

"Um, I'm not," Amber scoffed.

All other six eyes rolled, knowing now she wouldn't shut up about him.

Amber went on, "Oh my gosh, did I tell you guys what Tim did today? He's so cute, he-"

***

When I stepped out of the shower I walked through my bedroom area with a towel covering my body.

I sat down on my bed and as I applied moisturizer to my legs and arms, saw my phone light up with an incoming call from Tony.

My hand reached for it but the other pulled it back.

"Ssss," I hissed at an aggressive headache. They were frequent since the accident but usually passed after some minutes with no medicine. Except, this one was stronger and didn't want to leave. I didn't want to take some meds since I would be drinking, but I needed it.

Feeling at least a bit better, I got up to find an outfit for the night-- something that said "I know I look fifteen, but I promise I'm not." Something that was sexy but not trying hard. And I had just the thing: a 'Lucy in the sky' Jade scrunch two piece skirt set in gold that looked nice against my tan. With it, a black pair of strappy sandal heels that I didn't tie all the way up my leg.

Around nine-thirty, the girls came to pregame. After an hour of snapping pictures and approving the best ones, we were off.

We had barely made it into the club before eleven and got in free.

At the loud music, people shouting, and hypnotic music, my head was pounding.

"Hot exec checking you out," Chyna informed me.

I knew I had to be discrete when trying to look at him so I waited at the opposite end of the bar until Chyna danced away.

Finally I looked up and pushed the hair behind one ear.

The man was smiling at me from afar in his button-up shirt. He didn't look like my type, but I needed attention from any male other than Tony.

Me smiling back gave the man confidence to come over and talk to me.

"You look way too innocent to be in a place like this," he started with.

"Aheh," I sounded. You have no idea.

I flipped the hair over my shoulder and looked him over to get a better feel.

"Looks can be deceiving," I hummed, accepting my drink order from the bartender - an old friend from college named Brett.

His smile was crooked. "I'm Max, and you? Ay bartender, close my tab... looks like I'll be gettin' outta here soon."

During another scan of the man, I saw Max had a wedding ring on his finger and was sweating bullets. I gathered he was probably on a drug - maybe X. Typical sleaze, I hate how all these married men get off a long day at work where they probably act like upstanding citizens, go out, cheat, and then go back home to their wives and families.

My lips straightened into a thin line.

"As if," I said to Max, putting the straw to my pout.

"I didn't want you anyway," Max snarled, turning his back to me to harass the girl on my right.

Brett winked at me and I narrowed my eyes on him, unsure what he was about to do.

"Excuse me, sir," Brett said to Max, "your card declined."

The poor girl Max was flirting with laughed in his face. "What a joke," she cackled, switching away.

Max began throwing a tantrum, claiming he could buy everyone in the club a drink and there'd still be no way his card would decline. Meanwhile, the club owner jumped in his face to talk him down.

Brett, cleaning a glass, looked at me and laughed.

"Alright, Brett Baker, one drink on you," I teased.

He threw his head back to laugh and slapped the towel over his shoulder. "No, on you, you're the rich one."

I shook my head, still smiling small. "You got all that tip money and can't give little ole' me a free Blue Hawaiian? Noted. Hm, who was it that got you through pysch and communications freshman year? Oh, um, me."

Brett chuckled. "You're still annoyingly cute. Here, free drink on me, but you have to let me surprise you. I made up a drink I wanna add to the menu, I call it: the zodiac attack. Here, try it."

He slid me the glass and my face animated at the sight as I had no idea what it consisted of. However, I took it back.

"So," he pestered, "what do you think?"

I flickered my lash extensions his way and twirled in the stool. "I think you need a new name. It was good."

He fist pumped with excitement and asked if I wanted another.

"Jesus," my raspy voice hitched, "no! You trying to kill me? I'm a lightweight."

"Well don't say it like it's a good thing," he laughed at me.

I threw a crumbled napkin at Brett, the dirty blonde, and joined in the laughter.

That's when my phone vibrated in my right hand and I saw it was another text from him.

My headache came back, this time stronger.

Turning my phone off, I massaged my temples.

"Alright, Brett Baker," I hiccuped, "I'll take another-- on you."

2:34am

"Good night, girls," I exclaimed, stumbling out of the Uber. "Get home safe. Lana, stop flirting with the Uber driver-- ugh, whatever. Night."

Chyna put down the back window and hung out of it, drunk.

"You sure you don't want us to spend the night?" she asked me.

I struggled to fish for the correct key to my place but waved her off.

"Yes, Chy. Text me when you get home," I said.

"Love you, mean it!" Chyna shouted.

My three other friends followed up with a synchronized, "Love you!"

I waved with a loopy grin and made my way inside.

After a nice shower, I enjoyed a bowl of leftover Chipotle in bed where I sat up criss-cross and tuned into the news.

"This just in," the reporter talked, "what you see on your screens is a live broadcast of the scene outside of Tony Becker's three million dollar home. Sources say he's locked himself inside with his agent and is threatening to quote-unquote 'end it all.'"

My jaw rotated as I pushed my meal away.

Jesus Christ, Tony, what are you doing?

Stressed, I grabbed fistfuls of hair and held my breath until I heard more of the story.

There was a small percentage of me that hoped he'd just... do it. Although, I knew if he did, I would feel even more guilt.

The sound of my phone ringing was enough to make me jump out of my goosebump-ridden skin.

"Donovan," I exhaled, "h-hey."

"Sydney," he spoke fast, "please. I need you."

"I'm on my way."

*

In the next half an hour, I was shoving my way through a sea of reporters and paparazzi. The place was like a circus.

No one really knew who I was, they just thought I was someone on his team - a stylist.

"That's Cindy Janes, Tony follows her online, let's get her!" One pap pointed out.

"It's Sydney," I rasped, correcting them.

"So you do know Tony? Why are you here? Do you know what's going on? What happened with Lena and Tony, where is she?" They interrogated me, cameras flashing in my bare face.

As I was in my pajamas, with nothing more to say, I covered my face and kept quickly walking to the front door.

Donovan was standing on the inside, looking out as he talked to someone on the phone.

Seeing me, he opened the door and let me in.

"Thank God," he pushed out a sigh of relief.

My eyes shot to something cooking on the stove. "How can you cook at a time like this?"

He shrugged. "What, I'm stress-eating? You know what it's like dealing with him. It's either that or drugs, so."

I looked around the cold home with my arms crossed over my chest since I was uncomfortable. It was never good when I went to Tony's.

"How much has he had to drink?" I asked.

Donovan looked pained to say, "Let's just say he's far from sober. He's making 2007 Lindsay Lohan look like a saint."

I shook my head at that.

"Look, Donovan, I can't do this anymore. I'm not his keeper. I came to ease my conscious but this is it," I put my foot down.

Donovan stopped and listened to the noise coming from a room down the corridor.

"Go. Handle that, I'm gonna clean up this mess with the reporters outside," he stressed, rubbing my arm. "Call me if things get ugly."

He meant uglier.

"Oh," Donovan circled back, "and don't let me forget to turn the stove off when that finishes boiling."

I had no idea what I was walking into, but I started down the hallway to the study where it sounded like the commotion was coming from.

Upon pushing open the door, I saw Tony finishing off a bottle of Jack.

As worried as I was, I stepped inside.

Standing at the burning fireplace where he threw the glass bottle, Tony looked over his shoulder and glanced at me.

He burped first and used the back of his hairy arm to wipe his mouth.

"I suppose you're here to witness my magic trick?" he grumbled, pushing off the mantle.

My head shook another time. "What are you doing, Tony?"

"I've considered jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge, playing a little game of Russian Roulette, and even crashing my McLaren," Tony dragged his words, "but now that you're here... I think I might just burn this bitch to the ground."

He pulled out a lighter and stomped around the authentic area rug.

"You don't have to do this, Tony," I mewled.

I almost said "you're better than this," but he's not and I'm no liar.

With every step he took towards me, I inched away. While I didn't want to appear scared of him, it was hard to try and console such a belligerent man.

Seeing the way he clenched his fists, I said, "I'm getting Donovan, you need help."

Tony didn't like that too much and he lunged towards me.

He grabbed my arm, I knew there would be a bruise.

"Let go of me, Tony. I can help you," I said, my voice trembling.

He looked me over and nestled his nose in my hair.

"You want to help me?" he asked in a darkened tone.

I looked up into his dark grey eyes and nodded me head. "Yes," I whispered.

He must've taken my caring as submission and tried ripping my clothes off.

I put my hand on his chest and with a curled face, tried scooting away, but he only got more rough. So I pushed him off and he stumbled.

"Enough, Tony. I'm done with you, goodbye," I huffed, looking at his disoriented face.

That was as patient as I could be, it was time to move on.

"Donovan!" I shouted as I started down the long, dark hall.

The kitchen, I could see, was smoky and I immediately then remembered Donovan was cooking.

I started to cough and squinted to see where the exit was as the house was full of smoke.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Tony screamed, tackling my body.

My feet were lifted off the ground and I struggled to escape his grasp.

Finally, after Tony took an elbow to the corner of his eye, I was back on the floor where I crawled some before standing back up.

I looked around, dazed, not knowing where to go as the house began looking like a maze and my headache had come back swinging.

When I turned, there was Tony. I gasped and the back of his hand connected with my face.

Back on the ground, I caressed my stinging cheek.

"Sydney, wait!" Tony immediately called after me as I stormed away.

"No!" I swung at him just so he'd back off. "I told you you would never hit me again! I'm done."

He dropped to his knees and took my hand to kiss it.

"Sydney, baby, please don't do this to me. I need you. I'm sorry. I'll change, I promise," he whimpered.

With all my might, I tried making my exit but he latched onto my leg and ankle, making me drag him along the floor for a couple inches.

At long last, I reached the door and kicked my foot. When he let go, looking up at me with glossy eyes full of regret, I just stared down at him with disgust.

In ran Donovan, asking a million questions.

He picked Tony up who then fell over. Donovan tried chest compressions while I watched, no thoughts in my brain.

He screamed for someone to call 911. That's when the ambulance and cops swarmed in, pushing me out of the way.

Tony woke up, choking. He was put onto a stretcher and transported outside.

As I walked to my white 2021 Audi RS7, I heard Tony call out my name.

"Sydney, Sydney!" Reporters raved. "Can you give us a statement? What happened?"