by L. C White
“We have a problem that needs resolving, as soon as possible,” he says into the receiver. “One Dwayne…” He walks up to me and loosens the gag. “Surname?” he asks me.
I seal my lips, not wanting to answer. The first time I haven’t done as I’m told.
The back of his hand swoops out, then strikes me hard across the face. My body jars back with the pain and buzzing in my head.
“Surname?”
“Please stop,” I cry out.
“Surname Friday, or you’ll be going in the dark room when we return,” he threatens.
“I can’t,” I croak. “Please don’t make me.”
“Friday, you have one last chance,” he says in a deep menacing tone. “Or you’ll be back out on the streets.”
I lower my head with guilt filling my lungs. “Schofield… it’s Schofield.”
“Good girl,” Trent says.
I didn’t want this. I hated Dwayne for leaving, but I don’t want him dead. Trent owns me. He won’t let me go. And I’m starting to think I’ve been so stupid. Dwayne got out and I didn’t. I’ve never really broken away from angry men.
I hear Trent give the kill order and Dwayne’s current location, as tears seep down my face.
He hangs up and looks down at my distress with a more placid expression. His hand comes around my shoulder to take the gag away, as he sits down on the edge of the bed with me.
“Friday, look at me.”
I swallow as I turn my head. His fingers come up and begin to stroke my face affectionately. A small amount of comfort from his touch, makes my eyes close.
“It will be quick,” he says. “You know how special you are to me. I won’t risk losing you. And I won’t allow my position or anyone else’s be threatened. Now,” he says, running his thumb over my tender cheek. “I’m going to take a shower.” He pushes himself up from the mattress, and fingers through his case to take out a set of handcuffs.
“You don’t need to use them,” I say, kneading my fingers together on my naked lap. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Just until this is cleared up.” He snaps the handcuff around my wrist, securing me to the bedpost. “Besides, I like the good old fashioned quaint restraints.” He places his lips on the top of my head and inhales deep, before making his way into the en-suite.
I give it two minutes, listening to the shower flowing before leaning my body sideways. I’ve never once attempted to escape, but now I have to. Keeping my eyes on the steam drifting out of the bathroom, I reach up and pull out one bobby pin from my hair. I don’t know whether this will work. I’ve never tried to pick a lock before.
I use my teeth to pull the clip out straight, and start to dig around the lock. Anxious sweat and heat consume me every second this takes, and my fingers keep losing grip. In frustration I stop, take a breath, and dig inside the lock again.
A snap sounds from inside, making me freeze for a second to make sure Trent didn’t hear it. The cuff opens. I haven’t got much time, so I hurry across the room and grab the hotels robe from the wall hook, then open the door as silently as possible.
Chapter Four
Dwayne
I stand at ease as the last guest, the Mayor, shakes hands with Commander Weathers before sitting down in the backseat of the bulletproof official limo. That’s it. I’m now officially done. A retired Staff Sargent, who’s starting over on Civvy Street.
The Commander strolls toward me, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.
“Sir,” I salute him formally.
He smirks at me. “No, it’s now Andy to you.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Drink?” he asks.
“Yeah, soon. Just need some air.”
“Not going to shed a tear are we?” He laughs.
“Over my freedom… hell no.”
He pats my shoulder, then makes his way through the red carpeted entrance.
I take off my cap and brush down the white rim. It’s been one hell of a strange night, and my head hurts thinking about Amber. I feel so guilty about leaving her all those years ago. God knows what she went through before Peter died of liver failure. I didn’t even attend his funeral, just wired Amber’s Mom the money to pay for it. I couldn’t go and pay my respects to the man who beat the living shit out of me since the age of four, after my mom died. I couldn’t face looking in Amber’s eyes to see the pain I’d caused. I thought I could escape it. Escape the girl I fell in love with. But she still owns my heart, and every fuckin beat of it.
“Dwayne,” Corporal Scott calls from the lobby.
I turn to see he has already removed his dress jacket, and has pulled out his shirt.
“That girl you were eyeing up, is running around the ball room in a dressing gown, looking for you.” He gestures his head, frowning.
I jog up the three steps and march passed the reception desk, like nothing matters other than seeing her again.
My heart pounds and my neck is on fire. I push open the double doors to see cleaning staff sweeping glitter across the dancefloor. Then I spot her. She’s alone, wearing a white robe at the end of the stage. Her eyes catapult me back eight years, because I know that fearful look on her face. I quickly stride toward her, watching her nervous hands clasp together.
“You… you have to get out of here,” she utters, her eyes scanning the room behind me.
“What’s wrong, Amber?”
“Look, I haven’t got time to explain. You just need to leave.”
I frown down at her, then glance around the room looking for Trent Moore.
“You’re scared of him?” I look back to her, noticing a small red mark on her cheek. “He hits you!” I shake my head down to my boots.
“It’s none of your business anymore, but I had to warn you. Trent and his friends don’t like complication. And you knowing me, has put you in danger. So you need to leave, or you’ll get hurt.” Her tone has an anger in it, like she hates me.
“He’s making threats?” I smirk. “Who the hell is he?”
“Trent doesn’t make threats. Look, I’ve got to go.”
She goes to hurry by me but I grab her arm. I gaze at her eyes as they start to create tears. I’m enraged that he’s hurt her, and I’m unbothered by his threats. I’m now committed to once more, making sure Amber is okay.
“I don’t scare easy, Amber. I haven’t seen you in years and find you like this. You know I’m not going anywhere.”
She yanks her arm several times until I release her. “I’m not that girl anymore Dwayne. I don’t need your goddamn help.”
“You’re using. Does he give it to you? Promise you the world?” I angle close to her. “I’m sorry I left you, but I had my reasons.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. You just have to leave.” She turns and jogs toward the doors.
I punch the stone pillar next to the stage, frustrated. I can’t go after her because I have no damn right to. But I can’t leave this hotel either, knowing that she’s wrapped up in something dark. This is so fucked up.
“Hey,” Corporal Scott yells. “You coming?”
I look at the guys all waiting for me, but I can’t leave. Not until I know what the hell is going on with Amber.
“I’ll meet you at Mackie’s bar. Need to finish up a few jobs here.”
“If a pretty little thing was running around this hotel for me in nothing but a robe, I’d have a few jobs to finish up too.” He laughs with the guys.
“Jimbo, I suggest you shut your mouth.” I smile. “Go get the beers in.”
I make my way to the reception, displaying a flirty smile for the middle age lady. She seems agreeable, and has that anxious flush appearing on her cheeks.
“Hey there.” I look at her name badge as I remove my military cap. “Paula, I was wondering if you could help me in my official capacity.”
“Yes, sure Sir,” she says, flicking her curly blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Mr. Trent Moore has a visitor in the ball room. A very important donor that couldn’t catch him during
the event. I know it’s late, but Mr. Moore insisted he meet my friend.”
“Okay. Would you like me to call him?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind.”
“And your friends name?”
Names of importance whizz around my head. After being a part of this event on several occasions, I’ve met my fair share of bigwigs.
“Judge Martin Patterson,” I say. “Don’t mention me. I’d like it to be a surprise.”
Paula picks up the telephone and her finger stretches out to dial. I immediately lean my torso over the desk, seeing her finger push down to call penthouse four. She frowns as I touch her chin as a distraction.
“You had a little something.” I smile, moving back as she presses the phone against her ear.
“Thanks,” she mimes.
I wait a few seconds as she speaks to Trent. He doesn’t seem too happy, but Paula is managing to sweet talk him around.
She exhales, hanging up. “He’ll be down in five minutes.”
“Thank you Paula,” I say, strolling toward the elevator.
I push the button for the top floor where there are six penthouses in total. I know this because I’ve had to do security sweeps over a dozen times here.
The elevator doors slide open and I step out onto the green carpet. I hang back and wait, watching Trent exit penthouse four, and head toward the elevator that takes you straight to the ball room. Once he’s in, I make my move, quick.
I tap on the door, knowing there isn’t much time.
“Amber,” I call into the wood.
The door flies open and her red raw eyes widen on me.
“Dwayne,” she hisses, looking left and right.
“I can’t leave until I know you’re okay,” I say. “Because I don’t think you are.”
“Oh god Dwayne. If Trent sees you here, he’ll kill you.”
“And that’s why I can’t go. You need to tell me who he is.”
“No.” She goes to slam the door on me, but I slip my boot fast between door and frame.
“I’m in danger?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll call the cops.”
“He owns the cops!”
“Why are you with him then?”
“Because… because he takes care of me.”
I’ve damaged this girl. I’ve changed her into someone who sees this kind of relationship as a normal thing. I left. I ran away. And she found comfort in an asshole who obviously abuses her.
“Trent will leave you alone if you never show your face. I can convince him. But I don’t want to see you ever again, Dwayne.”
“I’m sorry I did this to you.” I swallow down her cold words.
“I forgive you. Now please, leave me alone.”
I slowly slide my foot out from the door and gaze at her. She dips her head then steps back to shut it. But I can’t leave the conversation like this, and now my hand is pushed against the door to stop her closing it.
“Amber, the reason I left you was because I was in love with you. I couldn’t live with that. I had to get out. It was wrong.”
She stares at me then tries to push the door in my face. But I’m too strong and she growls in anger.
“You didn’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t have walked away. Now go, or I’ll call Trent myself.”
I’ve fought wars, seen death, and lost friends. But knowing this is my fault, has created a void bigger than all those horrific events put together. I back up, allowing her to close the door. I can’t protect her. I can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving.
Chapter Five
Amber
I’ve packed my things so we can check out for eight a.m. After I closed the door on Dwayne, I was left alone. It’s a bad sign. I called down to reception just after midnight, and was told Trent had booked an executive suite, and I was given instructions by the lady to be ready this early morning. I haven’t slept all night thinking about Trent. I’ve really pissed him off, and I’m worried about the consequences.
I brush my hair and tie it up in a loose ponytail, then thread my arms through my pink hoody. I feel frail, hot, yet the sweat coming from my pores is cold. My hands are shaky, and I’m starting to feel the withdrawals, as the anxiety increases my paranoia. I don’t know what to expect when I see him. There’s a minuscule part of me that says hide. But I need Trent and his goods. A fix that will numb me for a while.
I usually have a line when I wake, but not having slept, the coke I had last night has left my system already.
I shake my woozy head, lift up the handle of Trent’s hard shell suitcase, and pull the strap of my overnight bag over my shoulder. I leave the hotel room feeling an apprehensive burn in my belly.
The elevator doors slide open and I step out onto the polished oak floors. It’s so quiet, and all that can be heard is the kitchen staff in the restaurant area, getting everything ready for breakfast. Lugging the bags awkwardly, I make my way to the reception desk.
“Good morning,” I say quietly to the young slender man. “Can you tell me if Mr. Moore has checked out?”
“Yes Madame. You’re Ms. Amber?”
“Yes.”
“He told me to tell you he’s waiting in the car.”
“Thank you,” I choke on my words, adjusting my grip of Trent’s case.
I make my way through the grand entrance, to see staff rolling up the red carpet from last night’s event. My ponytail blows into my face as my eyes search for the black limo we arrived in yesterday. I spot it, rolling across the gravel, then coming to a stop. The tinted window rolls down and Trent’s driver, Harry, gestures his head. I lug the case quickly down the steps and make my way to the trunk. I lift and set the heavy case inside, then toss my bag on the top.
I’m praying that Trent has my fix in the back. But as I open the door, all I see is empty cream leather seats. I frown, clumsily climbing inside, and notice Trent sitting in the front behind the partition.
“You’re late,” he says, not even turning to look at me.
It’s only five past eight. But that is no excuse. Trent hates tardiness.
“Sorry,” I say weakly.
All he does is hum at me, then tells Harry to shut the soundproof partition.
The limo sets off as I fight to keep the tears inside. I’ve grown accustom to routine. My morning fix, and Trent’s unyielding attention in my presence. This has never happened before. I’m being left out in the cold, and don’t know what to expect.
I’m the one who wanted to get out of that house. But now all I need is shelter from the outside world. I want to be hidden away and for things to be how they were. Thanks to Dwayne, Trent no longer trusts me. But I still can’t help thinking about the boy from the past.
***
I follow Trent into the house, still responsible for all the bags. He’s wearing what he wore last night: black tuxedo trousers and a white shirt, but he’s lost the jacket and tie. I place the bags by the bottom of the wide spiral staircase, as my maid, Jenny, comes trotting out from the kitchen to take care of them. She frowns with concern as she bends over.
“Are you okay?” she utters so no one other than me can hear.
I dip my head, feeling the nerve-racking atmosphere in the house, knowing I’m the one who has caused it.
“All the girls are waiting in the lounge,” she says. “Be careful. Remember, you are Trent’s girl.” She pulls the strap of my bag over her shoulder, and wheels Trent’s case toward the laundry room.
My cheeks flush as I nervously make my way through the door of the lounge. Jenny was right, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday, are all sitting in their nightwear, watching me make my way around the huge suede couch. My eyes scan each of their worried face with a half-smile, half-lip quiver.
“Sit down, Friday,” Trent says, pacing before the grey marble fireplace.
I sit down next to Tuesday. She’s the youngest of us all. At just eighteen, Trent invited her into the family. She’s
petite and dark haired. She’s also one of the world’s orphans, and appreciates being here. I’ve spoken with her only a handful of times, and she’s a lot like I was at eighteen. Kind of rebellious. Often speaks before thinking. She’s fortunate to be here. I was living in an underground disused railway at her age. Occasionally, the lap dancing bar on the main street would give me a few slots, and allow me to use my earnings to pay for a room above the bar. And maybe if I was lucky, I’d have enough left over for a few lines to knock myself into oblivion, to forget my sordid actions. This place is wonderful in comparison.
“Okay girls. Listen to me very carefully,” Trent states, looking down at each one of us. “Each of you has a Master. And that Master must abide by the rules. However, it seems that some of you.” His steely eyes freeze on me. “Have not been forthcoming. This house is your house. You all have a choice, stay or leave.” He pauses as the girl’s anxiety becomes almost audible. “There are to be no ties to the outside world. So do any of you have any secrets?” He waits for an answer, but each of us is far too anxious to reply. He shakes his head down at his shoes. “ANSWER ME,” he yells, making my heart thump against my ribs.
Nearly in chorus the girls utter, “No.” But I can’t, Dwayne is my secret, and Trent is now fully aware of him.
“And do any of you want to leave this house?” he barks.
Again the girls say in sync, “No.”
My answer is unable to part my lips. Dwayne’s life is in the balance, and I feel this loyalty for all the times he took a beating for me when we were kids. It comes before Trent’s desires, my addiction, and my own safety.
I lower my head as a silence takes the room. Trent’s designer shoes come into my eye-line on the thick gray carpet.
“Friday.” His tone is dark and demanding. “Do. You. Want. To. Leave?”
“No Trent.” I’m still unable to lift my head to look at him.
“Look at me, and say it louder.”
I blink fast to stop the tears falling as I gradually elevate my head. He’s displaying a tender look. I think he’s afraid I will choose to walk out of the door.