“Winder, man, you’ve been holding out on us. Where you been hiding this pretty little thing?” The man tugged me close, and I pulled back as far as I could in his tight grasp. He leered, looking down my dress, a line of yellow teeth exposed behind chapped lips. “We could have some fun, you and I.”
Even twisting my wrist, I couldn’t get him to let me go, and the panic I felt whenever I was trapped grew. “I’m good, thanks.”
I felt Winder behind me before I saw him, a solid presence that blocked out all the bad thoughts. “Don’t you know not to touch what’s mine?” His voice was lead, cool and heavy.
Mine. What would it be like to be his? All I could picture was safety. Complete and utter safety.
Mine. The word pulled on my heartstrings before I had a chance to trample it with rationality. This was an act, on both our parts, and he had to make it seem realistic.
The man dropped my wrist, and Winder picked up my hand without another word. My hand in Winder’s felt too right. Like it had been here before.
Like it was supposed to be there.
We walked through the still night. Winder didn’t let go of me like I expected him to. Something about his touch, his presence, made all the dark thoughts go away. The shadows that lingered at the edges of my consciousness, the ones I did my best to scare away with nightlights and work.
The ones that called my name when I dared to listen.
We were still in the same neighborhood as Winder’s house, but the bass of a party song began to grow louder as we walked, something I’d heard on the radio in passing. People were milling around the lawn where the music originated from. A woman stumbled out the front door, leaning over the rotten porch to scream to her friend.
“Whose house is this again?” I asked.
“Leon’s,” was Winder’s curt reply, as if five minutes ago, he hadn’t been ready to snap a guy’s wrist for touching me.
Great. Good thing I knew who Leon was. For someone who had called me a brat, he really had an attitude problem.
The porch creaked and groaned under our weight, and I imagined it splitting in two, swallowing us whole. My palms started to sweat over the completely irrational fear. I guessed my nerves had to go somewhere if my worst nightmare was already becoming reality. Winder glanced back over his shoulder for the first time, and even though he said nothing, he pulled me closer as we entered the cramped house.
The music was overwhelmingly loud in the busy space. I could barely hear myself think over it, but I wasn’t sure I wantedto hear what my thoughts had to say. Couches were pushed against the wall, and people were everywhere, gyrating and grinding on the makeshift dance floor. Smoke hung heavy in the air, giving the dancers an ethereal look.
They had to be high, or drunk, or both, but they danced like they didn’t care who watched them. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.What would it be like to be that free?To not give a shit what anyone thought, or what my next move would be?
I must have let go of Winder’s hand while I watched, because his face was in front of mine, mouthing words I couldn’t make out. I shook my head, pointing to my ears.
Winder pressed his mouth against my ear to be heard over the pulsing music. “Stay close.” The words tickled, sending a shiver down my spine.
I rolled my eyes, and stood on my tiptoes to speak in his ear. “I know the drill. Stay close. Trust no one.”
“Good girl.”
Apparently, Winder didn’t understand sarcasm. He led us deeper into the party, amidst the grinding bodies, moving to the beat. Drugs were everywhere I looked. In the corner was a handful of pills being passed. The smoke was enough to get me high without trying.
Getting high wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world…it might even help me forget everything that I had already forgotten, in a strange twist of events. Someone must have turned the volume down on the speaker, because my ears suddenly had room again.
A girl bumped into Winder, her eyes dilated, her breasts barely contained in her tiny corset top. “Wy guy! I missed you! Do you have anything special for me?” She pushed her cleavage out as far as possible, and I could only imagine what special things Winder had given her in the past.
“Not today. Have you seen Leon?” Winder didn’t give her more than a five second glance, and I didn’t know what to do with that information.
She pouted, but pointed to the couch at the far end of the living room. A man with messy brown hair sprawled on the leather couch, with a dazed woman’s head in his lap. He watched everyone in the room and exhaled, adding to the smoke in the air.
We pushed our way through the people, but before we were close enough to draw Leon’s attention, Winder stopped, grabbing me by the shoulders until I faced him.
His eyes locked onto mine. “Leon doesn’t touch the hard stuff, but he might ask you to smoke. It’s his way of making sure you’re cool. If he offers, you accept. We need him to want to tell us what he might know.”
I laughed. “According to you, this is my scene. I’m not sure you need to ask if I’m okay with drugs.”
He squeezed my shoulders lightly, before dropping his hands.
“The Blaire I saw at parties did drugs. I’m beginning to realize that’s not the same person as the one standing in front of me now. You have two sides to you. One is going to make you popular, and one is going to make you powerful. And right now, I need you to be the Blaire who threatened me with a knife in my kitchen without a second thought.”
