Free Hold Me in Contempt by Wendy Williams Page B

no to sex I never asked for, get down on my knees and give him head to convince him to make love to me, and then thank him for giving me an orgasm . . .  ​I never asked for.
    â€œCan I say one more thing before you lock me out again?” Paul asked, holding his foot in the doorway so I couldn’t close him out.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou were perfect last week. Knocked the ball right out of the park,” he said, and made the cracking sound of a bat hitting a ball. “And I mean that. It’s about time for you to move to the next level. You need to be thinking about that.”
    â€œI know,” I said more meekly than I intended to.
    â€œGood night, Kiki—”
    â€œDon’t call me that!”
    â€œBut it’s so cute,” Paul whined.
    â€œGood night,” I said, looking down at his foot in my doorway.
    â€œOkay!” He slid his foot out, and I slammed the door on the start of another sentence I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t know how much longer my no s would last.
    I looked down at my exposed stockings and panties and cursed myself for pouring the last of my wine away. It was going to be a long night.
    I went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to get two of the painkillers I normally took before I went to sleep. There was only one left. I’d have to call the pharmacy in the morning.

Chapter 4
    â€œI t seems you’re out of refills, Ms. Kind. You’ll need to call your doctor.”
    â€œNo. There must be an error,” I said into the phone, though I could clearly see there were no remaining refills by reading the label. “I just saw Dr. Davis a few weeks ago. He’s the one who gave me the prescription.”
    â€œI see that here in the computer, but it appears that you’ve had the prescription refilled three times in the last two months.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œYou’re out of refills.”
    â€œThere must be an error.”
    â€œMaybe there is. You can call Dr. Davis and have him call it in. Or we can call. Would that help?”
    â€œNo. I’ll call him myself.”
    â€œWonderful. Please give us a call back if we can do anything else to serve you.”
    â€œThank you.”
    I hung up the phone and used speed dial to call Dr. Davis’s office, ready to lean into whoever was unlucky enough to answer the phone at 9 a.m. I’d been to Dr. Davis’s office too many times over too few months for there to be any problems with any of my prescriptions. But somehow there always seemed to be an issue, and at some point I’d be on the phone with someone, sounding like a crazy lady. Dr. Davis would want me to come in. To talk about my pain. To discuss my levels of pain—look up at the chart of scary to smiley faces on his office wall and try to pick out one to describe my pain. How consistent it was and where it was. Sometimes I’d point to ten, the harshest of pain, the crazy face with red eyes and tears streaming. “Everywhere! All of the time!” I’d say. “I feel it everywhere at every minute of the day.” He’d leave the room, come back with a small square of paper with chicken scratch on it and his signature at the bottom. I’d deliver it to the pharmacy and we’d start the dance again.
    As angry as I’d get, I knew he was just doing his job. Everyone was just doing their job. But my job was to manage my pain. And while it wasn’t always everywhere at every moment, sometimes it felt like that. And worse, when I had to think about it, I’d have to go back to how it started, why it was there. Kim 2 and I leaving the mansion that night in the Hamptons. It was Diddy’s birthday party, and Kim 2 had gotten us on the list. We were so drunk, but we had to get back to the city. I knew Kim 2 had popped some pills earlier, but I was more messed up than she was and I couldn’t get caught driving drunk. She said she was okay. I