“I suppose that would depend on what my new master would desire, wouldn’t it?”
“No, there are contracts, insurance, it’s all pretty tightly run. And everyone’s of age, Kerri, or they’d be paying a lot more than half-a-million.”
“What happened to the full mil?”
Yvonne shrugged. “Being realistic, I’d say three hundred thousand easy. But if you negotiate that tax bill, you can cover it, get back on your feet. And who knows, you might enjoy it.”
“Or I might get chopped up and turned into cat food.”
“Who would pay so much money just to kill a person when they could find some whore for fifty bucks? Like you said, Kerri, this is Hollywood.”
“You said that.”
“So did you ! And you’re right, we both are. They pay for class here, Ker, they pay for discretion, they pay for the very best.”
Kerri sighed as she considered her options. Reading her slowly turning skepticism, Yvonne said, “If you really want to piss your mother off; I mean, you know how she'd feel about such a thing.”
Kerri chuckled. “She didn’t even want me to grow tits. When I had my first period, I thought we were going to have her committed.”
“No wonder you turned into such a voyeur.”
“Yvonne, I am not a voyeur!”
“Really ? Your profession, your career, was to be treated like a sex object, then chased around and murdered, usually just before, during, or after having sex. And a big part of that was having people watch, perhaps millions of people. Now tell me that idea didn't turn you on. Tell me the shame that brought your mother didn't make you feel just a little bit more powerful than her?”
Kerri thought about it and sighed. She couldn’t deny the truth of what her incisive best friend was saying. She knew she couldn’t bullshit Yvonne but even her powerfully conflicting feelings about her mother weren’t enough to get her to agree to that wild scheme.
Kerri silently resolved, There has to be some other way.
That evening Kerri went for a long walk around her hilly Los Feliz neighborhood, at the foot of massive Griffith Park. She strolled past mansions of varying styles, lined up like Beverly Hills North.
Maybe I never should have come here, Kerri couldn’t help but reflect, even as she saw it all dissolve right in front of her eyes. Maybe this is a place I was never meant to be, a place I shouldn’t remain. Maybe I should just cut loose of it all, start fresh somewhere else.
Going over the numbers in her head, she frowned; they were grim. After paying fees on the sales of the mansion, plus the mortgage, which Mark had nearly doubled in the last year of his life, there’d be virtually nothing left of the proceeds even if the taxes were covered in the bargain. In all likelihood, she’d still be out of pocket and out of luck.
There was just simply no way to earn that kind of money, not even prostituting herself either privately or publicly, something she was loathe to do.
Well, she silently rationalized; it isn’t really prostitution, any more than anybody else does every time they step in front of a camera. At least that’s better than auctioning myself off to some rich weirdo for a weekend,- Yvonne!
Maybe I can stall all this tax business and get some crappy role, cover a down payment and then figure something else out next year. As Kerri approached her own huge and increasingly empty home, she saw clearer ways of staying where she was, maybe even yet moving up in the world.
I just need a little more time.
With a turn of her key, she stepped into the foyer. The house was quiet, grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the living room. Suddenly, a hard hand clamped around her throat as a heavy body spun her around and shoved her back against the wall. Before Kerri knew what was happening, a big, black gun was shoved into her mouth, the metal cold and oiled. Her heart nearly burst, her body trembling, her brain racing through scenarios desperate for escape.
Her focus was quickly drawn to the gun, in her open mouth, pushing her tongue back, scraping against her palate, blood already trickling down her throat.
A man she didn’t recognize stood mere inches in front of her, snarling, his olive skin clean shaven. “Not a word, sweetheart, not a word.-” Kerri was slow to calm, her focus on that gun and on what would surely be the last moments of her life. She was blinded by confusion, dazed with fear. “Atta girl,” he said as her breathing slowed, “Very good, very good. You gonna be a good girl, be nice, behave yourself?”
Kerri could only nod, noticing for the first time a second man standing only a few feet away, wearing a black duster to match his friend’s. The first man said, very slowly and quietly, “You listen to me now; I’m gonna take this gun out chor' mouth. One peep and I’m gonna knock your teeth out. Right?” Kerri nodded, but the man repeated even louder, “Right-?”
Kerri nodded, mouth open and around that terrible tool. The man nodded too and slowly removed the gun from her mouth. Kerri’s muscles were cramping, the sides of her face hurting as her heart threatened to explode behind her ribs.
The man stepped back and the other stepped forward. “Missus Mark McCall, aka Kerri Abernathy? Former B-movie actress.”
“That’s right,” Kerri managed to say, but just barely.
The first man said, “My name is … well, that’s not really what’s important, but you can just call me Mr. Death.” The name sent a wave of cold fear through Kerri’s body. He spoke with a very deliberate professionalism that only revealed his ignorance. The strong Jersey accent didn’t help. “That’s my associate, Mr. Kill.”
Kerri looked at the man and tried to smile, failing miserably.
Mister Death said, “I know you’s is wondering why it is we’ve come here … unpronounced, as it were.”- He smiled, apparently had no idea how far off his language was. “Missus McCall, when your late husband was still among us, he accrued quite a gambling debt which, as you may imagine, has increased over time, what with the interest and penalty payments and whatnot.”
Kerri repeated, “Gambling?- On what?”
“Football, mostly. I tried to collect from his business manager, one Morrison Talbot, but he no longer seems to be available.”
“Yeah, they say he left of the country. Try Barbados.”
Mister Kill smiled. Mister Death didn’t. “Perhaps one day,” Mr. Death said as Mr. Kill paced around the big entryway. “But for now, I would like to collect on your late husband’s debt, so that I may close the books on this whole situation.”
Kerri sighed, shaking her head. “How much?”
“The entirety of the debt is currently at two-hundred thousand dollars American,” Mr. Death said, overly articulate. “We would prefer a wire transfer, for reasons which I am sure that you may construe.”
Kerri shook her head. “Well look, I just don’t have that. I’m sorry, but … I don’t have it. Talbot stole all my money. — ”
“That is not our problem, Mrs. McCall. And it won’t remain your problem for very long, if you catch my drift.”
Kerri’s blood ran cold, mouth going dry. But she mustered her strength, driven by an anger and an impatience she didn’t know she had. Her late husband had been haunting her long enough.
“What do you mean, breaking into my house and threatening my life?”
“That, Mrs. McCall, is a question which answers itself. Today is Thursday. Next Friday you’ll owe another ten thousand, for a total of two-hundred-ten. I suggest you do what you can to ensure a friendly business transaction, and that includes keeping this strictly private, especially where the cops is concerned.” Mister Death looked her over before leading Mr. Kill to the front door. On the way out, he said to Kerri, “The alternative will not be pleasant, I assure you.”
They left, closing the door behind them, and Kerri’s knees gave out from under her. She dropped to the cold marble floor, barely able to keep from passing out as she regained her senses and began to mull over her alternatives.
She only had one.
Chapter Three
>
Yvonne went with Kerri, and she required little convincing. Kerri could never have gotten in without somebody who’d already been there, and Yvonne was one of the very few. They pulled up to a huge mansion and stepped out, both wearing their best black dresses, Kerri’s blonde hair pulled up in a bun, ringlets around her pretty face.
The men wore tuxedoes, the women fine eveningwear and dazzling jewelry. Kerri didn’t recognize any of the faces, even though she’d partied with just about every A-, B-, and C-lister in Hollywood over the previous five years, pretty much in that order.
Yvonne glanced around, even nodding to one or two people and catching Kerri’s eye. “See some old friends?”
Yvonne chuckled. “Maybe some potential new ones.”
“Yvonne, be serious ! You’re here to help me with all this, not get swept up and disappear for some weekend of slap and tickle.”
“All right, Kerri, don’t be so nervous.”
“Nervous ? I’m not nervous, I’m … I’m scared to death, actually.”
Yvonne chuckled. “Relax, you’ll be fine.” A young man walked by with a tray of Champagne flutes, and Yvonne took two, handing one to Kerri. It was chilled and delicious, bubbles tickling her nose. “You may need a few of those.”
“I think I’ll need my wits tonight. Still, I’m sure one won’t hurt.”
“No,” Yvonne said with a knowing half-smile, one brow raised, “Of course it won’t.”
Kerri looked around, searching for answers that only inspired more questions. “So how does this work, exactly?”
“I’m not really sure, I’ve never been auctioned but Hamilton said the money is held in escrow over the weekend, delivered on Monday morning without fail. The Swedes handle it; apparently, they’re great at that sort of thing. Hey, that’s not racist, is it?”
“I think it might be.”
“No, it can’t be racist; they’re white. Anyway, let’s take a look at the auction room, shall we?”
Kerri was more interested in avoiding that very thing, but she knew she had little choice. It was why she came, why they spent hours getting ready. She knew what she had to do, what was waiting for her in a week’s time if she didn’t do it; so she followed Yvonne across one of the big main floor rooms to a pair of double doors guarded by a big man in a black suit. She nodded at him and he back at her, then he stepped aside to open the door and let them pass.
Dead silence filled the big room as Yvonne led Kerri toward a large crowd of men and women standing around an elevated stage. The stage was built into the walnut bookcases and pillars, everything highly polished.
But that wasn’t what caught Kerri’s eye.
On the stage stood a beautiful young woman, a brunette with a gorgeous face straight out of a 1930s movie, cherubic and sweet. Her body was perfect, slinky in a clingy satin dress. A man in a tuxedo spun her slowly around. Another man stood on the stage nearby, also in a tux. He wordlessly interacted with the audience by pointing at one person, then raising his hands, various fingers extended; one on his left, three on his right.
Yvonne leaned over to Kerri and whispered, “One hundred forty thousand, I’m pretty sure.”
Kerri’s head started to swim. The man clapped again, raising his fingers, scanning the crowd as some nodded. The man would choose one; clap and point, then raise his fingers to indicate an even higher number. “I think that’s three hundred thousand,” Yvonne whispered.
The smell of brandy and perfume combined to sweep up Kerri’s nostrils, nearly making her faint. Men turned to glance at her and Yvonne, some with suave smiles that barely disguised their vicious intent.
The man on the stage clapped again and raised his hands, five on each, flashing his fingers five times. “There’s half a million.”
My God, Kerri couldn’t help but think, What are they going to do to that girl for their half-million dollars ? What devious, demented practices does she have in store?
Yvonne glanced at Kerri, setting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Relax, Ker, she looks like she can handle herself.”
“She can’t be more than twenty-one.”
“Nah,” Yvonne said, waving Kerri off and sizing up the brunette as she was escorted off the stage. “She can’t be a day over nineteen.”
A nervous curl turned in Kerri’s stomach. “No, this … this is just too weird, Yvonne. I wanna go, we should go.”
“Kerri, calm down. It wasn’t easy to get in here.”
Looking around, Kerri’s heart beat faster. “I don’t care; we should go … right now.”
Yvonne put both her hands on Kerri’s arms and looked right into her eyes. “Kerri, take a minute to collect yourself, okay ? It’s going to be fine, trust me.”
But she was getting dizzy and nauseated. She knew if she stayed their much longer something embarrassing was going to happen; precisely how embarrassing would depend on which part of her body gave out first.
Kerri turned and rushed for the double doors, Yvonne on her heels. She stopped short when a man stepped into the room toward her. His eyes locked on hers, his green to her blue, his black hair short and well-styled, just a touch of grey creeping over his sideburns.
Opening her mouth to speak, she had no idea what to say and no reason to say anything at all. Everything was happening too fast, and her overriding instincts to get out of there pushed her toward the double doors with Yvonne following close behind.
Kerri knew she was drawing stares, but that only made her legs pedal her faster, cold sweat collecting on the back of her neck. Once through the big living room, Kerri felt like the doors of the foyer to the outside were getting farther and farther away the harder she tried to reach them.
“Kerri,” Yvonne rasped, but it was too late. Kerri was quick to push her way out of the foyer and into the front of the mansion. Once outside, the cool air braced her, but she could barely stop walking until Yvonne finally grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Kerri, take it easy, will you ? I thought you said you didn’t have a choice!”
Stopping, she looked up at the big mansion stammering to find the right words. She hadn’t told Yvonne about the visit from the loan shark, the money she owed him, what was waiting for her if she didn’t, how little time she had. But she knew it to be true, and once again being on the outside of that mansion meant that she might have thrown her only bid for survival right out the window.
“Okay, you're right,” Kerri said, “You’re right, I’m sorry, I … I just freaked out a little bit there.”
“A little bit ? I don’t think I’ll be able to get us back inside!”
“Oh no, Yvonne, you gotta get us back in, I have to do this, I … I need to do it.”
Yvonne took a closer look at her old friend. “What is it that you’re not telling me, Ker?”
“I owe money, Mark owed money, I told you that. But … some of it needs to collect sooner than the rest of it.”
“Some ? To whom?”
“Some guys from New Jersey, gambling debts.”
“Oh Christ, Jersey ? The mob ? You know I’d loan you the money, but we’re tapped out too; Harvey hasn’t worked in ages, Joanne’s private school is killing us-”
“It’s okay, Yvonne, it’s not your responsibility.”
“Still and all.” Yvonne turned and glared at the mansion, taking Kerri by the hand. “Let’s get you back inside and sell you off before we both get wacked.”
Yvonne managed to get them back into the mansion, but returning to the auction room was another matter. The doorman was grim-faced, arms crossed in front of his chest as he shook his head. Yvonne flirted and rationalized and even pleaded, eventually inspiring the doorman to ask, “Bidding?”
A nervous wave passed through Kerri’s legs, making them tremble when Yvonne said, “On the block, actually, my friend here.”
The doorman looked Kerri over, his eyes slowly crawling up her creamy, taught legs and compact, gymnast’s physique. His eyes lingered over her face, lips pouty and red, eyes catlike
and blue. Finally, he shrugged and stepped back, opening one of the two big doors and allowing them to enter.
Kerri walked in and looked around, instantly drawing the glare of a few of her fellow revelers. She walked at an even pace, slow but resolved, approaching the stage. Kerri scanned the room, not seeing the handsome gentleman with the piercing green eyes and chiseled features. She passed from face to face, everybody around her reeking of wealth and power, the best and the brightest, and the darkest, of the Los Angeles elite.
She arrived at the foot of the stage and one of the two men noticed her immediately. He extended his hand to her and Kerri stood there, nervously looking around. Yvonne jutted her head, gesturing for Kerri to take the man’s hand and get up onto the stage. But Kerri was frozen with nerves, unable to move.
Do it, Kerri urged herself, you have to do it ! Take control for once in your life!
Kerri extended her hand and the man in the black suit took it, pulling her gently but firmly onto the stage. He led her wordlessly to centre stage and spun her slowly around. Kerri could feel the eyes of the people in the crowd, undressing her with their imaginations, already conceiving strange and seductive practices for her. She paused to face them so they could take in her face, her breasts, her complete facade.
These people don’t care about me, she knew, it’s completely about what’s on the surface.
The silent auctioneer pointed at the nodding men and women in the crowd, clapping and raising various combinations of fingers. Kerri couldn’t follow the numerical process, and with nobody saying a single word, she couldn’t even guess how much they were bidding for her. But with the frequent claps and different combinations of fingers, she knew that they were bidding a lot, and that the price was going up fast.
Her heart skipped a beat to be on that stage, the object of fascination for people she didn’t know, people who didn’t know her. It brought back the old days, her time as a bubbly scream queen, a masturbatory fantasy for young boys and old men alike.
SOLD: Auctioned to the Billionaire (Steele Series Book 1) Page 2