Freda's Freedom

Chapter 1

Freda

I have always enjoyed watching my hands straighten damp hair. It was strange, but I enjoyed seeing the cloudy swirls of steam as the hair dried into shiny, straight slivers.

"Do you think the length is okay?" Tessy asked me, her face hopeful in the mirror.

"Yes, darling, you will look great," I assured her, brushing stray hairs from her shoulder. I looked around the salon; we were unusually full today.

"Freda!" From behind me, I heard Trench's voice calling. "Are you done? I need two hands here."

"Nearly!" I returned the call while stroking Tessy's luscious blond hair. To show her how she looked, I held up a mirror for her. With her signature dimply smile, she exclaimed, "Thank you! This is exactly what I desired!

"That's great!" I said. She was one of my regular customers, someone I always enjoyed chatting with. "Is there something going on in town? Half our block is getting decked up here."

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" she asked me incredulously.

"No, what?"

"Ken Forester has returned to town." She grinned conspiratorially.

I stared at her. "Who is that?"

She gave me a quizzical look. "You don't know who Ken Forester is?"

"Freda!" I heard Trench yell from behind me. My eyes met with the crowd waiting on the couch for their appointment, and I cursed my pace.

I lifted a finger at Tessy. "Walk and talk?"

"Cool," she said, skipping beside me as I strode over to Trench's station.

"Finally," Trench mumbled, handing me a chunk of thick black hair to hold. "Oh, Tessy, you look lovely!"

"Thank you, Ms Becky!"

"What are you wearing this evening?" she asked Tessy, who sat down on a stool beside us.

"I'm thinking of an emerald gown."

"-I see, it goes with the blonde-"

"Exactly."

"Where did you get your gown?" the woman in our chair asked unexpectedly, turning to look at Tessy.

"Kelly's."

"Oh, she gave me a red gown for tonight!"

"Hello!" I interjected. "Anyone wanna tell me what's going on? Who's this Ken Forest? And, why is everyone getting dressed up?"

"Forester," Trench corrected me. "He was in our class, don't you remember?"

"Who?"

"The scrawny computer science geek who got in a load of trouble with Mrs. Hoover for hacking into the school's system and erasing all our grades..."

I put my hand on my mouth, my eyes widening. "Oh my God, yes. Ken. Oh, I remember him."

Trench snorted. "Of course you do. Your boyfriend spent 12 years of school torturing him."

"He didn't torture him-"

"Freda, the guy was a lunch money vending machine for Drake."

I huffed. "Yeah... I know." Drake had always been the abrasive kind. I shared a dark look with Trench who pressed a calming hand on my wrist.

Not now.

"So Forester is back in town – so what?" I asked.

Tessy rolled her eyes at me. "He came back a multi-billionaire."

My mouth fell open. "He's what?"

"A multi billionaire. He's filthy rich now! How have you not heard about this?" she asked, tossing a magazine at me.

I shrugged. I preferred reading things with slightly more meaning to them than pop-culture magazines. I held the glossy book and glanced at Trench.

"Oh, go ahead. We're almost done," she said.

I flipped the magazine open. "What do you want me to see?"

Tessy shook her head. "Not inside. The cover."

I frowned, slamming a magazine shut. A handsome, muscular man in a pressed navy shirt grinned back at me from the front cover. I blinked. Above the chiseled, tan jaw, I saw Scrawny Ken's familiar green eyes.

I gasped and looked at Tessy who was nodding with a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat.

"No," I whispered.

"Yes," she said assertively. "He has somehow turned into a freaking catch in four years."

"Little Ken who was scared of bouncy castles," I murmured, unable to believe his transformation.

"I remember, my thigh was wider than his tiny head," Trench said, chuckling.

"Unbelievable," I said.

"And, his parents are hosting a giant party for basically the entire town," Tessy continued.

"His mother always liked to show him off," Trench said, doing the final brushes on her customer's hair. "She was a real bitch – no wonder – he's out of the house two years, and his whole life changes!"

"Is that why you're all dressing up? For this party?" I asked.

"Yeah! I mean, it's not often that a multi-billionaire holds a massive party and I get invited," Tessy said, shrugging.

"I didn't get invited," Trench said flatly. Her defiant nonchalance almost made me smile. "Did you?" she asked me.

I scrunched up my forehead. "I do remember an email from Mrs. Forester... I sort of just ignored it."

"Oh my God, you should totally come!" Tessy said, excitement glowing in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know." I said, pulling out a pair of scissors as a customer sat down. "They're celebrating him – he shouldn't have to see my asshole boyfriend who bullied him his entire life."

Tessy nodded, pursing her lips. "Then go without him."

"I can't do that." I said, suddenly feeling my throat dry up. "Drake... He gets mad if I do that, so..."

Trench stepped in for me – thank God. "Okay, enough chit chat. You've got a customer waiting."

"Alright." I said, giving her a grateful smile. "I'll see you later, Tessy?"

"Sure, hon," she said, giving me a hug. "Try to come tonight."

I smiled at her, choosing not to respond. There wasn't much I remembered of Ken Forester except the times I had seen him with Drake, but those memories were enough to know one thing: he absolutely hated the both of us.

There was no way we were going to this party.

"THERE IS NO WAY WE are going to this party!" I yelled.

"God damn it, Freda, why do you have to be such a bitch?" Drake screamed, stalking into the room with a force that scared me. My hand itched to grab the lamp next to me so I could hurl it at his advancing figure. I waited too long – he strode forward and grabbed my arms with crushing strength. His breath smelled of gin, his hazel eyes out of focus as they bored into me with threatening intensity.

"Do you know how long I haven't had a job?"

"Yes, Drake," I said through gritted teeth.

"How long?"

"18 months," I said, venom leaking into my voice. I couldn't help it.

"And, you're the one who's always being a cunt about it, right?"

"I was not being a cunt!"

"Yes, you were!" he roared. "And, you're being a cunt right now."

My bottom lip trembled as tears threatened to escape me. Mustering up my courage, I yanked my arm out of his reach. "He hates you," I said softly, trying to fight the lump in my throat. "He would never give you a job."

Drake grabbed his ironed suit and marched to the bathroom. "I'll find a way to get one. No matter how rich he gets, he's still scrawny Ken inside – I know it."

"Drake, you cannot start a scene there-"

"I know!" he snapped. "I'm not a fucking idiot! I'm just gonna talk to him. Now get off my ass, will you?"

He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I clenched my fist so hard, my nails threatened to break my skin. I was going to do whatever I could do, but I would not break.

I stared at the messy bed and the cream walls of my bedroom, feeling as though I could no longer recognize it as my own. I gently touched the quilt on my bed – my nana had given it to me. I had also passed out on it after Drake punched me in the face.

I flicked my fingers back, feeling boiling hot rage bubbling inside of me. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I strode over to my closet, opening the door and peering into the cool darkness. I took deep, haunted breaths.

"What are you just standing there for?" he asked from behind me.

I am suffocating in this house.

"Looking for clothes," I said.

"Do it faster. We can't be late for the party. Got a lot of sucking up to do. "

No multi-billionaire would be dumb enough to hire someone like you.

"I can't wait!" I said, pulling out my go-to black dress. If Drake was going to insist on taking me out to a very public party, then I was going to use that opportunity for something I had been putting off for a long time.

Far too long.

The car ride to the Foresters' place was tense. Drake was not a complete mule, after all; he could sense that something was weighing on me. He could sense that I was thinking, measuring, planning.

He didn't like that, at all.

"What did I do now?" he asked sulkily.

You've turned my house into the place I hate most.

"Nothing, honey," I said.

"Always..." he mumbled, annoyed. "Women and their 'nothings.' There is always something, cause you're out there, giving me the cold shoulder, but when I ask, you say nothing."

Because saying something would get me a beating.

"That is not true!" I said, forcefully. I grabbed the wheel with great force, trying not to expel the words building up in my mouth.

I tried to recall Trench's advice: when it's a beater, always end it in a public place. I glanced at Drake trying to imagine the boy he was when I'd met him. It seemed like he had curled inward on himself like a deranged venus flytrap, thorns and spikes and all.

And, I had my arm stuck in that trap.

Getting myself out would not be easy. Even now, I could feel the strange click in my jaw that had been there since he last slapped me. It racked me with fear each time. Had he broken something? Trench kept telling me that a broken bone of any kind would lead to unbearable pain, and I would know it. But the anxiety, the panic, and the relentless sense of doom would not go away for long. They are frequent visitors when someone is using you as a punching bag for their insecurities.

A short man dressed in all blue walked up to my car and knocked on the window. "Yes?" I asked him.

"Valet for Forester party?"

"Oh. Okay." I took my purse and strode out of the car. I handed him the keys and saw ten other men in the same uniform walking about with people, dealing with their keys and parking.

Full valet. Woah.

"Looks like Forester's gone the whole way huh?" Drake asked, injecting some sarcasm into his voice. It was strangely reminiscent of the times he spent bullying Forester in school, and I felt my stomach turn.

"Definitely more than you have."

He turned to glare at me. "Excuse me?"

I faltered. Had that just slipped out of my mouth? I knew my subconscious ramblings would come back to bite me in the ass one day. Drake reached for my wrist, and his furious expression prepared me for a headlock, a twisted arm, or worse, a tight slap in the face.

"Freda?"

I looked up out of the darkness and onto the front porch of the Forester house. Tessy was waving at me excitedly, her shiny blonde hair bouncing in the street light. She looked extremely tall in her fitted emerald dress. Drake's arm was frozen midway between us. I stalked away from him with more confidence than I would have had we been alone. I had never been so glad to see Tessy before.

"Tessy, the dress is amazing!" I told her, reaching out to her with my arms wide open.

She cheerily gave me a hug, "Look at you! You clean up well."

"Haha, thanks. I'm not covered in stray hairs and scissors like the days you usually see me."

Drake cleared his throat from behind me. "Oh, this is Drake; Drake, this is Tessy."

"Hi, nice to meet you," he said, smiling almost like his old, charming self. Almost.

"Is this the boyfriend that I've never met before?" Tessy asked casually.

"Um," I faltered again, unable to act in time to save my hide. Why were my nerves failing me today?

"Yes, I am," he interjected for me. "We've been together since we were 14."

"Wow, guys. That's intense." She nodded sagely.

"Shall we go in?" I asked, wrapping my arm around Tessy's waist so she couldn't leave me alone with Drake. Already, I could see him fuming about me not calling him my boyfriend right away. Perhaps defiance was finding its way into my speech, now that I was so close to freeing myself of his baleful presence.

Whatever it was, I knew I needed a couple of drinks in me before I confronted Drake. I stared at the throng inside the Forester house through their windows and took a deep breath.

It was time to be brave. It was time to take action.