Colt snorted, having traded his boxers from earlier for a pair of swim trunks. The hat and boots remained, and a towel was looped around his neck.
“The White Sheet Speedway is ready for racers.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of his and Callum’s bedroom.
“The what?” I asked but went unheard as Colt continued.
“Y’all in, or are we going without you?”
Darby adjusted his hat where the wide brim curved over his horns. “You can’t leave me, Colt; it’s my name on the guest list.”
“Ain’t no guest list at a pool,” Colt retorted. He looked past Darby to where I was stuffing my feet into a pair of flip-flops, then gave a wolf whistle. “Hot damn, Cherry. That bikini’s hanging on tighter than my last nerve.”
“And it looks fabulous,” Darby said. “Now, let’s go. Time’s wasting.”
Colt dipped into the hall, and Darby shooed me out afterward. I felt awkward and anxious and all kinds of confused, mostly about how we were getting out of here and what the “White Sheet Speedway” had to do with it.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Zephyr
When I saw the rope of knotted bed linens trailing out of Colt and Callum’s bedroom window, everything made sense. I also saw the bars, removed from their window in a grid, leaned against the wall like a door they took off anytime it got in their way. Today was clearly not the first time they’d used this escape route, but it was new to me.
Shimmying down the long cotton rope took every ounce of courage I possessed. Not because of the height. Of everyone, I should have been the most adept at climbing a strip of fabric. But Maslow’s withdrawal had left my grip weak, and if Oz hadn’t been on the ground below, promising to catch me, I might have stayed behind.
Thankfully, this side of the Dollhouse faced away from traffic, or the sight might have prompted someone to call the police. It looked like a jailbreak, and the six of us made for the strangest inmates scuttling along in brightly colored beachwear and sandals.
I lagged with my head on a swivel. It was the parking lot, then so much farther. Every step ahead felt like another breakout. Another escape. And it came with equal parts elation and anxiety.
It was always bright outside the Dollhouse. I’d seen it through my bedroom window, the sun setting the sky ablaze and bouncing off the pavement in shimmering waves. But out here?
Out here it was blinding.
I’d told Beck the world felt bigger once I finally stepped into it. It stretched far beyond the static image I’d stared at day after day. It was no longer just a picture behind glass, but something real, vast, and more incredible than the tales told by my nightly customers.
The Dollhouse had always been the center of my universe, but out here, it was just one star in a sprawling galaxy. Towers of glass and steel rose like they were trying to claw their way free of the earth. LED screens pulsed with jackpot numbers, celebrity chefs, and a magician balanced on the back of a tiger.
It should’ve been gaudy.
Itwasgaudy. But it was also spectacular.
People swarmed the sidewalks like ants, pointing this way and that and laughing into their phones. Showgirls shook tall sprays of tail feathers, walking arm in arm past tourists snapping photos. Music bled from everywhere, and the air smelled like hot concrete and sweat.
A Ferris wheel spun lazily in the distance, and for a second I forgot where I was. I felt disconnected, like I was watching a movie starring someone who wasn’t me. Not one of Maslow’s dolls, not a walking, talking sex toy, not a man glimpsing heaven for the first time.
While I marveled, the other guys rushedahead, laughing and chatting with casual enthusiasm. Only Elliot didn’t hurry, trudging along with his hands in his hoodie pocket and his head ducked. He was also the only one not in swimwear, having donned instead his typical black garb and a beanie hat.
My heart rattled, and I was practically panting despite the steady pace. I tried in vain to settle so I wasn’t oddly gasping when I came into stride with Elliot.
“Do they, uh… Does this happen often?” I asked, tugging at the towel wrapped around my torso.
His red eyes narrowed against the sun’s glare as he looked ahead. “Just when Mazzy’s out. He has a standing engagement at the Basilica. Once every couple of months. Last one was before you got here.”
“What if he gets back?” I asked Elliot. “Before we do?”
“He won’t,” came the clipped reply. “Darb has this down to an art. Bus schedules, walk time, and how to turn like a hot dog on a roller grill to lock in that perfect tan.”
The unexpected bit of humor stunned me along with the fleeting quirk of his lips. So, he was enjoying this too. It was equally unexpected to see Elliot enjoyinganything, but especially a pool. He fit in at the club, all black, red, and broody, but in the Nevada desert, he stood out like a shadow in broad daylight. A lone storm cloud in otherwise clear skies.
