by C. R. Jane
“What was real? In your case, pretty much everything from the point that I got naked and let you sketch me. I felt real things then. Nutty, over the top, sometimes horrible things. And so then, my uncle threatened to kill you and that was that.”
“That was that?” He stared straight at me, a million questions in his eyes. “You just left?”
“Yes. Had a nervous breakdown and went.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
Funny, here in this cheap hotel room, while I sat on a toilet seat wrapped in towels, beat up, and miserable, I could still feel those moments. The way leaving had killed something inside of me. I’d been prone on my side for days. Jamie had broken me, but he hadn’t been the only one to hurl me down that road.
There were some pains that had names. I could identify mine perfectly well. Steven. Graham. Charlie. And Jamie. They were a constant ache. There had been cons in between each of them and since, but no one had ever replaced the holes they’d left in me.
Not that I got to indulge in that since clearly, I’d fucked with their lives so much, they’d watched me kill someone and now had to hang out in this shitty hotel.
“And me?” Charlie asked from the chair. “What part was real?”
I chewed on my lip. Ouch. “From the point that you saved that woman in the restaurant. It was real. But I still stole from you and left. There wasn’t a gun to your head, Charlie. I am just that bad. I had a job to do, and I did it.” I cleared my throat. “Because that’s who I am.”
He leaned forward. “You almost didn’t. In the car. When I think back, I can see that look on your face. You almost didn’t. And then you said something to me, and I didn’t pay attention.”
I couldn’t let him think he’d missed something. That was just cruel. “Charlie, by then, I had what I’d come for. In your case, you can blame me entirely. I picked you. I was supposed to be after Mrs. Nicholson’s nephew. But, I decided I wanted you. I gave your name to my uncle, and he approved it. I’m afraid you’ll have to blame me entirely. He had no beef with you or your family, other than coveting your stuff.”
Charlie lifted his lids slowly to meet my gaze. “You wanted me?”
“I did. For a few minutes, I felt like… like a normal woman. I saw this man, and I wanted him. Sure, I then had to ask my uncle if I could have you. That’s not normal. I know that. But that’s about as normal as I get. And I knew how to make you like me.”
He shook his head. “Holly, most women know what to do when they want a man to like them. They know how to try.”
“True, but most of them haven’t been doing it since they were fifteen. They don’t know that they can get men killed by not getting it right. They haven’t… they haven’t had to learn how to seduce men to survive.”
Charlie’s face fell, but the anger and disappointment I expected to see there wasn’t what I read in his expression. In fact, I couldn’t seem to read him or Jamie right then.
The conversation shifted. If they expected apologies, they didn’t get them. I was so past asking for forgiveness, knowing there was none to be given.
I really wanted them to understand just how dark I was. Sitting here, with my eye swollen and my ass reddened, I might give the impression of being pathetic. They needed to really get who I was, so they could understand just how dark things might get for them if they didn’t let me handle this.
“I like it. The game. The seduction. The winning. Sometimes, I even love it. That’s who I am, and my uncle saw it. He recognized it in me. That’s how I got to be this person. I am just… dead inside.”
Chapter 10
Holly
Past
It took me a few weeks until I was recovered enough to feel like a normal human being. My uncle had people who worked for him give me IVs every day to get me up and running, since he had brought me near death with dehydration.
I didn’t talk much during this time, just lay on the bed in the bedroom that he had given me, completely broken and a shell of myself.
I knew my reprieve was up when he walked into the room with a tray of food and his signature brownies. I hated those things.
“You’ll be going back to school tomorrow,” he said calmly. “And I expect progress to be made with Brandon.”
As broken as I was, the thought of doing what he wanted still made me sick.
“You know I’m a virgin, right?” I asked softly, keeping my eyes averted so he didn’t think I was challenging him. I glanced back up at him when I was answered with nothing but silence.
“You’re right,” my uncle said, sounding as if he was deep in thought and surprising me with his answer. “We aren’t going to waste something as handy as virginity on a mere boy. You can get what you want from him with a blow job.”
Right. A blow job. The thought still made me sick.
He set my tray down and started to walk away. “I expect progress to be made, Holland,” he told me sternly. “I want it done in the next week, while I figure out what to do with your virginity,” he added before leaving the room.
I was shell-shocked as I sat on the bed. What kind of world had I found myself in where my virginity was perceived as a commodity? I had never really held any importance to it. I just hadn’t met anyone yet that I was interested in giving it to… or really had time for guys at all. Suddenly being faced with its imminent demise made me think harder about it.
I went back to school a few days later. It was amazing how a couple of weeks had changed my whole life. I’d never been particularly social, but now, I felt as if I didn’t belong at all.
Brandon Daniels was in two of my classes. He was popular, a football star who ruled the hallways. And he was rich, that was the part that was important to my uncle. Walking into class that day, I examined him closer than I usually did. Brandon was good-looking in that All-American way that tended to make high school girls act silly. Dirty blond hair and hazel eyes with a body honed from his football workouts. He was definitely easy on the eyes.
Besides exchanging a few words with him, we had hardly had any interaction. So when I sat next to him during class for the first time, I understood his surprise.
“Hey, Holly,” he said almost nervously. I cringed at his use of the name Holly. It was like my uncle had tortured the nickname out of me. I was Holland now.
“Hey, Brandon,” I replied sweetly. He continued to study me nervously, which I didn’t understand. I knew I was a pretty girl. You couldn’t not be pretty with blonde hair and eyes like mine. My boobs and butt had come in when I was a freshman and were better than the average high school girl.
Yes, I was pretty, but there were lots of pretty girls at my high school.
But he was staring at me as if I hung the moon.
A little thrill went through me, but I tried to push the feeling away. I was being forced to do this, I reminded myself. I didn’t enjoy this at all. I didn’t want to do it.
“I’ve been out a few weeks. Sick with pneumonia,” I said as my uncle had instructed. “I’ve been trying to keep up with all my classes from home, but…”
“Do you need help?” he asked eagerly.
I smiled at him and nodded, pretending to be shy. It was weird that this was so easy.
Again, that weird little feeling of power passed through me.
“Yes, that would be great. Do you want to meet up after school?” I asked.
Disappointment passed over his face. “Football practice,” he said. “Could you meet me after that? The season is almost over though, so I should have a bunch more time to help soon,” he said eagerly.
“That would be great,” I said, reaching out my hand to touch his shoulder briefly. I could tell that he liked that.
Class started right after that, and I could feel Brandon’s gaze on me every couple of minutes.
When class ended, Brandon waited for me to gather my things, then walked me out to the hallway. There were so many eyes focused on us. Anytime Brandon walked with a girl, students were going to watch. But I didn
’t like all of that attention. It struck me just then that I wasn’t sure how I was going to get away with stealing the Rolex. Wouldn’t he know it was me if it disappeared right after I was at his house? I would have to talk to my uncle about that later. Maybe I could pin it on the maid or something? Even thinking about pinning that on an innocent person, who was just trying to make a living, didn’t sit well with me.
Brandon took the initiative to sit beside me in our next class as well. And then he asked if I wanted to sit with him and his football friends at lunch, too. I really didn’t have very many other people that I talked to, so it worked out well.
He surprised me. I kind of expected him, well, to be a douche. A lot of his football friends were crass, disgusting, talking about their latest conquest, but Brandon didn’t participate. He was polite and attentive. He even paid for my lunch. He could’ve been acting that way for my benefit, but I got the feeling that he wasn’t. His friends weren’t sending him amused glances at his behavior, nothing that he did seemed to surprise them. By the end of one day with him, I was thinking that he wasn’t such a bad guy.
When I got to the house from school that day, my uncle was sitting in the kitchen eating a brownie and reading the newspaper.
“How was school?” he asked, and I knew that he had no interest at all in how my academics had gone and was really asking about my work with Brandon.
“I’m meeting him in an hour at his house to study,” I replied, and he nodded, a pleased little smile on his face as he continued to read.
“You know, I think someday I’m going to get myself a Super Bowl ring,” he remarked randomly. I peered at what he was reading and saw that it was an article about the prospects for playoffs this year.
I didn’t bother to respond, I didn’t think he was really talking to me.
“After your study session, we’re going to continue your training,” he said.
Shiver of dread ran down my spine. “Training?” I asked, my voice rising at the end as I thought about the “training” I had received in his little basement of horrors.
“You’ve told me how inexperienced you are,” he said, before stuffing another bite of brownie in his face. “Your training will help you to become a little… less inexperienced.”
A rush of panic seized me. “I thought that you said that you were going to save my virginity for something that mattered,” I clarified quickly.
His eyes shot up at me. “Are you talking back to me?” he said.
“No,” I stuttered back quickly.
“The only reason I’m not caning you is because you have that study session tonight. Don’t make the mistake of doing it again,” he hissed.
I quickly nodded.
Seeming satisfied at my blatant fear, he sat back in his seat. “To answer your question, you won’t be having sex tonight. You are, however, going to learn how to please a man,” he said calmly, as if we were talking about what we were going to have for dinner, and not what sex acts he was planning on having his fifteen-year-old niece learn. At least there were no sexual undertones in his words. I hadn’t gotten any inclination that he had interest in me—or interest in anyone for that matter.
I was merely a commodity. At least I could take solace in that.
“One of our whores is going to be taking you with her to meet with a client. You’re not to give any indication about your age, or there will be hell to pay,” he snapped. “Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes,” I responded softly, not wanting to experience what he thought equaled hell.
“And before you get any ideas, let’s not forget who you belong to,” he told me. I simply nodded and left the room.
I couldn’t hide that something was wrong during my study session with Brandon. His family lived in a really nice house. Much more decadent than my uncle’s, even though I was sure that the amount of wealth my uncle possessed ran circles around theirs. I could see there was a pool out back with a full basketball court. And Brandon’s game room, where we were studying, felt like it could fit five of my uncle’s living rooms in it.
We were going over the Revolutionary War. Not that I actually needed help with that. I had a photographic memory. I think they called it an eidetic memory or something like that. I could see something once and immediately remember it. I never had trouble in school. I probably could’ve skipped a grade the past couple years, if my life hadn’t been such a shit show. It was funny. I had once dreamed of college, building a life like my parents had together, doing something good with my brain.
That wasn’t going to happen now.
“You seem distracted,” Brandon commented. “Are you still not feeling well?”
It took me half a second to remember that I was supposed to be recovering from pneumonia and not from being starved to death in a cell in the basement.
I smiled at him, hoping that it looked real. “It was just a long day being back at school,” I told him reassuringly.
He closed the book that we’d been studying. Appearing nervous for a second, he took a deep breath. “I’ve liked you for a while,” he said earnestly. “I just wanted to get that off my chest.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You have?”
“You just didn’t seem interested, and I didn’t want to push,” he told me, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.
“I’m interested now,” I said softly, trusting my instincts when it told me to lean in closer to him. His eyes flicked from my lips back to my face several times. He started to lean into it as well. Our lips met. It was just a brush, but it seemed to give him the confidence that he needed. He leaned in farther, strengthening the kiss.
So this is what it was like.
Brandon ended the kiss a second later. There was no tongue involved. It was just a sweet, perfect first kiss.
I swear I could see stars in his eyes when he pulled away. “Wow,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I said breathlessly. My phone buzzed just then. A text message. It was my uncle reminding me of my “appointment” tonight. All of my good feelings disappeared in a flash.
“I’ve got to go,” I told him quickly.
Brandon looked panicky. “I didn’t overstep? Right?” he asked worriedly.
I leaned in and gave him a peck and pulled back. “You were perfect,” I said, enjoying the grin that spread across his handsome face. If only things were going to be the same tomorrow as they were right now, I thought. At least my first kiss had been with someone that I kind of liked.
I left Brandon’s house with plans for us to hang out again the next day. I walked to my uncle’s house, my mind conjuring up all the different scenarios of how tonight was going to play out.
I thought the house was empty when I walked in, until I got to the kitchen. There was a woman sitting at the table drinking a glass of water. She was thin, scary thin, with bright red painted lips and platinum blonde hair that I knew wasn’t natural. She was pretty, as if she’d been shaped that way though and not born with those looks. I could tell that her breasts were fake, and she looked like she had a spray tan.
She glanced up when she saw me enter.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said, rolling her eyes as she eyed me. “How old are you?” she snapped.
This must be my uncle’s whore, I thought.
“Fifteen,” I said defiantly.
Her eyes flickered with regret. “I’m going to hell,” she muttered. She took a deep breath, as if she was preparing herself for what lay ahead, and then stood up. “Are you ready for this?” she asked, brushing past me as she walked into the hallway.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” I asked.
She turned and gave me a little smirk. “Ashley.” She smiled. “And you’re Holland, my new trainee. Welcome to the club,” she said sarcastically as she walked around me in a slow circle, scrutinizing me from head to toe. I watched her suspiciously.
“You need to change before we leave. I’m sure that the boss has gotten clot
hes for you that will work tonight,” she said. When I didn’t move, she snapped her fingers. “I have clients waiting, hurry up.”
Turning around, I stiffly walked to my bedroom. Sure enough, there was a new skimpy black dress that hadn’t been there when I’d gotten dressed this morning.
I stood there holding it, not sure that it was going to even cover the bare minimum to make it decent for me to walk outside.
Ashley had followed me in.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” she said. I glared at her and then went behind the closet door to change. I had been right. The dress barely hit under my butt and showed a deep amount of cleavage. I looked more like a whore than Ashley did.
She took a makeup bag out of her purse and started pulling out eyeliner and red lipstick. “Put this on,” she said, holding the items out to me.
I stared at them blankly and reluctantly took them. I hadn’t really ever worn make-up before. I started trying to line my eye, but Ashley quickly took over, muttering expletives under her breath.
“I don’t have time to give you a lesson right now, but you’re going to have to learn fast. He likes us to be presentable at all times,” she said. A couple of minutes passed while she pasted things on my face. She hummed a little as she started to put mascara on my eyes. “Never seen someone with eyes your color. They’re probably why you’re so important to him.”
At that moment, I wanted to burn my eyes out with hot poker sticks. I used to always like my eyes, because they reminded me of my mom, it was something that we shared together. But if they were one of the reasons I was in this predicament, I hated them now.
When she was finished, I gazed at myself in the mirror. I seemed at least a couple of years older, old enough that whoever her clients were tonight wouldn’t be worried about potentially breaking the law. She didn’t give me much time to ponder my looks anymore, however. She took my arm and started to hustle me out of the house. We got in her car, an Acura. Picked especially because it was nice but not too nice, according to my uncle, she informed me.