“Prey, it ain’t a gown. Sit your ass back down.” When I did, he asked, “Did my little gift help?”
“Yes.”
“I can get you more for next time.”
I had hoped he’d say that, but I worried about giving him another card to hold over me. “You’ll do that out of the kindness of your heart?”
“Hardly. I’m new to this gig, and I plan on making it work. If drugging you is the way to do that…”
“How did you even get this job?” With my newfound energy, my mind shifted gears, eager to collect every piece of information.
Bo took off his shoes and placed one foot in my lap. “Make yourself useful.”
I began to press and rub like I knew he liked it.
“They came to me while I was in prison.”
I wasn’t surprised he’d been to prison. “What were you in for?”
“It’s rude to ask.”
I glared at him. “You want to talk about rude?”
He chuckled and placed his hands behind his head, giving my crotch a stroke with his heel. “Fair point. Press harder. Ooh, that’s nice. I was in for rape.”
I almost expected him to say that, yet it still turned my blood cold.
“Don’t look at me like that, Prey—it wasn’t real rape. We were both wasted, and she didn’t remember going home with me. If her father hadn’t found out about it the next day, she would have kept her mouth shut. Hell, she’d have probably come back for more.”
“Did she say no?”
He shrugged. “Maybe once or twice, but she still moaned like a bitch all the way through. I can tell when someone isn’t into it, and she was into it. Anyway, they locked me up for eight years—no chance of parole. During my third year, the guards took me to a private room where a fancy-looking man waited. He saidhe could get me discharged in a matter of days if I accepted his offer. I told him I wasn’t allowed parole, and he said it wouldn’t be a problem.”
He wriggled his toes for me to continue massaging. “I can usually tell when I’m being bullshitted, but this guy seemed legit. He said I’d need to cut ties with the outside world and come work for a group of powerful people—The Society. My job would be to keep people well-behaved and obedient.” He winked at me. “He promised full freedom to do what I wanted with those unfortunate bastards, and after a few years, I’d be free to move on with a generous compensation. I still had five years in prison, so the deal was a no-brainer.”
It would not have been a no-brainer if he were a decent human being. I wondered if they only offered the job to rapists or if murderers were also an option.
“How many others like me are in here?” I asked, dreading the answer yet determined to discover more.
“Less than twenty, I think. I don’t know all of them. Don’t care, really.”
“Twenty? So they must be filming someone every day.”
“About two or three a day, I reckon.”
I tried to imagine The Director watching people being tortured every single day. Did he get off on it? Did he even care by that point?
“Are they all actors?”
“Nope, just random unlucky fuckers.” He lowered his foot and placed the other one on my lap.
“What did they tell you about whoever runs this place?” I asked.
“That double-crossing them would be the last thing I’d do, and you bet your ass I believe that.”
Since he seemed to be in a decent mood, I asked, “Can you get me some books and newspapers?”
“Newspapers? Why do you care about the news?”
