I pushed the thought aside and leaned in slightly. “Sir, would you really pay me for something like that?” I covered my mouth, feigning shock. “Even if I didn’t enjoy it?”
His face turned red—whether from embarrassment or alcohol, I couldn’t tell. I was winning, and it was my first time playing. It was almost thrilling.
He stumbled over his words. “Well… yeah… anything to help you get there…”
My drink had turned mostly to water by then. I finished it in one go, forcing it down, and set the glass down harder than intended. “Let’s get a few more drinks, and I’m yours,” I whispered, adding a small smile at the end.
Was that what they liked?
Without hesitation, he called the bartender over again and ordered two drinks. The bartender set them down, giving me a brief side-eye but saying nothing. Not his problem.
The beer was much easier to drink than the brandy. Bitter at first, but it grew on me. I forced myself to slow down. Things were starting to feel… lighter. Funnier. My focus slipping.
So I pretended to drink, secretly spitting it back into the bottle.
He was too trusting. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him. He was close to falling off the stool, rambling about his life—his job as a mechanic, his wife thinking he was working late, his son Timothy playing soccer and scoring a goal, his dog Brutus.
I was running out of time.
I didn’t feel the need to hide my reactions anymore. He couldn’t tell. My face twisted at the mention of his family, unseen.
My thoughts swung wildly—I can do this. I can’t do this.
Back and forth, like a pendulum I couldn’t stop.
I had gotten halfway through the first beer he bought me. It was time to quiet my brain before it spiraled back toI am going to crash and burn. I can’t do this.Prove to myself I could. I reached out and touched his hand, fixing another smile as I took it and started to pull him off his stool toward the door. He nearly fell on top of me as he tripped over his own feet, but thankfully caught his balance and managed to keep up. He smelled like diesel and tobacco smoke—but not the cigarette smell I was growing used to. My first guess was he was a pipe smoker.
I pulled him toward the door, through the haze of parking lot dust and smoke and loud laughter, yet no one noticed we were leaving. I wondered if Erich would get worried when he had the chance to check on me and realized we weren’t at our stools anymore—my half-empty beer bottle still collecting condensation at the bar. I opened the door, thankful for my jacket as the night breeze hit our faces.
I scanned the parking lot, searching for a place where I could rob him without anyone noticing. I heard him digging in his pocket for his keys, holding them up as he wobbled and nearly fell into me.
“We can do it in my car.” His voice was deep, with a noticeable slur. “I can turn the heat on if you want. Don’t have air conditioning, though…”
I bit my lip, gently to avoid reopening the wound, and crossed my arms. Absolutely not. No. I was not getting into his car. There was too much risk. And if he touched me… what would I do? I’d be liable to break. I was already fighting back the weight of trauma and conscience just to prove to Erich I could handle this.
“I was hoping for something quicker… like against the wall or a dumpster…” I said, trying to sound innocent, though I couldn’t hide the edge in my voice.
And then it hit.
The flashbacks. The pain. The betrayal. His voice.You are so simple.
He dropped his keys and stumbled, catching himself against the bar’s exterior wall before fumbling to pick them up and shove them back into his pocket. He straightened slowly, one hand dragging along the wall as he moved toward the back.
I followed behind him, slower now. The pep talk I had been giving myself was unraveling. I could feel it. I was losing control of it. If this went too far, I might actually break.
There it was—the dumpster. Just as foul as I imagined. I wondered how many people had passed out on top of those bags, or how many rats called it home.
“It’s cute…” he slurred, smiling at me. I nearly gagged at the sight of it. “That you’re into stuff like this…”
The strain of my forced smile made my lip throb. Honestly, if it split open, I’d have an excuse to leave. A clean exit.
I forced myself forward anyway, reaching for his hand and brushing it lightly against my chest—then immediately dropping it. Not part of the act. My body was rejecting it. My heart dropped, my blood went cold.
Every shadow around us began to take the form of my brother.
You’re mine.
“Sir, before I go any further…” I forced concern into my voice, masking the way my breathing shortened and my pulse spiked. Even then, my voice came out small. Fragile.Get out, Camille. Get out now.“You need to pay me up front.”
