“Okay, sounds good to me,” she says, finally smiling again. I breathe a sigh of relief and finish my drink before standing up. “I’m just going to use our private bathroom to freshen up before we hit the dance floor. You good to wait here?” I ask, and she waves me off.
“Absolutely. I might see if I can find a man to take home tonight. I really could do with some stress relief, and if I can convince them to leave the mask on, all the better. There’s nothing more illicit than a one-night stand with a stranger.” I leave her eyeing the masked crowd below us and head toward the employees only exit. My brother has an office back there, and attached to it is a bathroom. Nice and quiet and private, exactly what I need.
Moving through the crowded VIP area, having people I know wave and touch me on the way past, makes me want to vomit. Thinking about going downstairs with Hope is going to require a little more than liquid courage.
When the employees’ door closes behind me, the sudden quiet is a little disorienting. Soundproofed for my brother’s sanity, it’s a sudden shock I hadn’t been expecting, so I lean my back against the door as I get my bearings. My drinks have gone straight to my head, only having drunk water prior to them.
Finally, I push up and walk down the corridor to my brother’s office, grateful that the boots that go with this costume have chunky heels. I key the combination into the touchpad next to his door and push it open when the green light flashes. The familiar scent of my brother greets me when I walk through the door, and I have a small moment of guilt that I quickly shake off before heading to his bathroom. A few minutes later, when I’m washing my hands, I finally lock eyes with my reflection, not at all happy with what I see looking back at me.
ChapterTwo
Jacinta
Before me is a woman who’s clearly suffering from some kind of trauma—survivor’s guilt or PTSD or something. I can see it in the terrified look in her eyes, and I have no clue how no one else sees it too. Maybe it’s because I’ve become adept at projecting the same self-centered, confident woman I’ve always had to be. But I’m not. I’ve reverted to that scared teenager I was when I realized my mother had used me to break in and kill someone.
All that therapy I had afterward, where they assured me none of it was my fault, is gone, and left behind are so many feelings and thoughts that I can’t control. How can Jaxon and Harlow even look at me after everything they’ve been through? Peter made them take drugs and fuck at gunpoint! Jaxon got shot and almost didn’t make it. I nearly lost the other half of my soul. I ran away like a coward, but I should have stayed and helped them escape too. I didn’t, and they paid the price.
Reaching into my bustier once more, I drag out a little plastic bag full of white powder and a dollar bill, laying them down on the marble sink in front of me. My nervous habit of chewing my lip comes back in full force while I stare at the baggie. I tried to convince myself I don’t need this. That I could go out into that crowd and enjoy myself tonight. That I could fake it until I make it, and no one would be any wiser to the turmoil inside my mind.
A week ago, I’d been forced to attend a fashion industry award show. I wasn’t able to avoid it because I was supposed to present a Neighpalm Couture sponsored award. Although I didn’t want to leave my brother, he insisted he was fine. According to him, it was time to start getting our lives back to normal, but if this is normal, my new normal, then I don’t fucking want it.
Normal had officially left the building. The thought of going out in public and being surrounded by people who really are no better than strangers was terrifying. How many other people out there have thought about using us for our money? It’s only going to be worse now that the news of being the heirs to the Bucataru fortune is about to break. How do I ever trust any kind of human interaction again?
I’d put on a smile and gone. Granted, I was escorted by a couple of the security guards that have become our norm for the time being, something to make Dad feel better, but I hadn’t been able to stop shaking during the limo ride there. The guard who had sat in the back with me took note and poured me a large glass of whiskey. I threw it back without hesitation before asking for another. The man didn’t even raise an eyebrow. He just poured the drink for me. By the time we arrived, I was feeling looser and more confident. Luckily, my award was early in the evening, and I was still doing a good job of pretending to be sober when I presented it.
After that, it kind of went downhill. I drank copious amounts just to keep the whispering demons at bay. The guards were able to keep me from making too much of a fool of myself, and I made sure they got a bonus from Dad. Getting a drunk heiress to her suite in the hotel probably wasn’t part of the contract, but they did it without any complaint or drawing unwanted attention.
A conversation from early on in the night was vividly stuck in my mind. I was using the bathroom and overheard the models talking about a casting call they had attended.I managed to catch their first scandalized words when the door opened.
“He wanted you to dowhat?” I was taking a moment to hide out, trying to calm my nerves after having to play nice with the editor of some popular fashion blog. He was a complete asshole, but he was an asshole with a lot of sway over industry minds. Those who didn’t play nice often ended up on his shit list, which could be a career’s kiss of death.
“He said that I could walk in his show if I let him fuck me in the ass.” The other voice sounded blasé, like it was an everyday occurrence, and I didn’t doubt it.
“And did you?” The first voice had lost a little of the scandalized tone, now sounding more curious.
“Sure. I mean, why not? He has all the good drugs too, and he gives you a little party favor once he’s gotten his rocks off.”
“What did he give you?”
“A little baggie of coke.” I heard a sink running, then it turned off again.
“Oh, nice. People say it’s good at calming nerves. I’ve thought about trying it before I go on a casting call. I always get super nervous and end up tripping or something. I’ve tried dexies, but they just make me twitchy and paranoid.”
“Yeah, it’s great. I use it before a show too. It helps me block out all the eyes on me and lets me focus on what I’m doing. I also don’t get hungry, so that’s a bonus too. Helps me keep my figure looking like this.”
“So, was the sex good?”
“The guy has a small dick, so it makes anal easier, and he likes to call you Mommy while he slaps your ass and fucks you. Thankfully, we popped an X beforehand, and he pinned me against a bed while he was doing it, so I could muffle my laughter in the blankets.” The door opened again as the two women walked out, leaving me alone.
The next day, I snuck upstairs to the sex room at Willow Castle and took one of the bricks of cocaine that had been rewrapped and returned to the safe after Jaxon and Harlow’s ordeal with Peter. I wasn’t sure why they didn’t flush it down the toilet, but I was kind of glad they didn’t. Back at home, I had put some of it into some small baggies. I wasn’t sure why since I had no plans to actually use it, but something in me felt a little better with the knowledge that I had it ready just in case. That same something, though I couldn’t pinpoint what, had made me slip one into my costume tonight.
I’m no stranger to drug use. Drugs are widely available in the fashion industry, not to mention in the music and film industries as well. My brothers and I have been around it all our adult lives, and I know some of them have indulged from time to time, but I always avoided it. I used to bear the brunt of my mother’s meth rages, not that I knew that was what they were at the time, but I always swore that I would never be like her. I rarely drink to excess, preferring to be in control around the vipers that surround me all the time, but hearing those women talk about the lack of nerves and being able to block out everyone’s eyes really resonated with me. It sounded like exactly what I needed.
I open the little bag and tap a little bit out onto the marble counter. Opening the drawer, I scratch around, looking for something to help me cut it into lines. The only thing I can find is a comb, so I grab it and run the toothed edge through the powder a couple times, getting rid of any lumps, before flipping it over and working the fine white powder into a line. It’s only a small amount since I don’t want to overdo it my first time. I could end up hating it and curled into an even bigger anxiety-ridden ball at the bottom of a bathroom stall out on the public level.
Picking up the dollar, I roll it into a straw and, pushing my hair behind my back, bend over. Sticking the straw up one nostril, I block the other and inhale, running it along the length of the line. The powder coats the inside of my nostril, the burning sensation bringing tears to my eyes until it slowly numbs. I breathe in deeply before breathing out. While I wait for something to happen, I clean up. I don’t need more rumors floating around about me. Leaving the dollar rolled, I tuck it and the baggie back into my top. I don’t know how long a coke high will last, especially because it’s my first time, but I may need more later. It’s still early, and I’ll be expected to hang around for a good portion of the night.
Using a nearby folded washcloth, I wipe the sink, removing all traces of coke residue, before folding it and leaving it on the sink in case I need it again. I can feel the exact moment the coke starts to work. My body coils with anticipation, and all the nerves and guilt and other overwhelming emotions just seem to drift away, leaving me feeling confident and alert and ready to face the world. I look at myself in the mirror, and a small smile creeps across my face. Now, I finally feel like I match my costume. Turning away, I exit the bathroom into my brother’s office just in time. Hope has the door cracked, peeking in, a relieved look on her face.
