Crowned with Guilt

by S. K. Rose

  Ding. Ding.

  I feel around groggily for the vibrating phone. Letting my eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the screen, I see a new username.

  Chase69: Reap, you awake?

  Bookbitch: Chase? How did you even find me on here?

  Chase69: Beth gave me your username, she didn’t tell you?

  Bookbitch: She did not, shocker.

  Chase69: hahahahahahahaha amazing

  Bookbitch: What do you want Chase

  Chase69: Can I come up?

  Bookbitch: Come up where exactly?

  Chase69: Your room

  Bookbitch: Absolutely not.

  Chase69: K good, cause I just crawled up the side of your house

  I hear a light tapping at the window. Stomping over, I throw open the curtains to see a pair of eyes peering back at me from the darkness.

  I slam the curtains back together.

  “Reap, c’mon.” His voice is muffled through the glass, but I hear the desperation.

  With a sigh, I fling the curtains back open and unlatch the window. Slowly, I slide the glass across trying not to make any noise. I back up when giant boots begin to swing their way into my room. Once I flip on the desk lamp I turn to scold him.

  “I said no what are y—Fuck. Chase, what happened?!” My jaw drops at his condition. One eye is swollen shut and purpling, his lip is busted and openly bleeding. He tries to smile, but it just morphs into a wince of pain.

  “Okay just. . . Jesus, sit down and I’ll be right back.” I run to the bathroom where I know Mrs. Blackwell keeps a first aid kit. After grabbing the kit and a washcloth, I sneak downstairs and get a small bag of frozen peas. When I open my bedroom door back up, I find Chase laying across the bed.

  “Got a nice setup going here, dontcha?” he muses, looking at the books and trinkets on the bookshelf. Crawling beside him, I sit cross-legged by his head and take a closer look at the damage. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” His eyes are full of shame and I see the ghost of my childhood reflected in them.

  “Shh,” I say gently and hand him a piece of cotton from the kit. “Hold this right here, we need to get that bleeding stopped.”

  “Frozen peas? For me? Oh, Reap, you shouldn’t have.”

  I roll my eyes as I gently place the peas on the worst of the swelling. He cringes away, but relaxes when I grab his hand and give it a squeeze. We sit in silence for a while as I help the swelling go down and begin to patch up the open wounds.

  “So, you aren’t going to ask me for details? Maybe try to use your womanly wiles to get some good gossip?” He looks genuinely surprised as he observes me.

  “Would you tell me the truth?”

  He looks away briefly and shrugs. “Touché.”

  “What are you gonna do?” Using a small swab, I clean out the blood from under his piercings. He’s lucky they didn’t get ripped out.

  “Same thing you’ll do.” I raise an eyebrow and freeze my hand that’s holding the swab of liquid bandage. “Get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.”

  I nod and continue to glue shut a smaller cut by his eye.

  “This isn’t your first time doing this, is it?” he asks with a newfound respect in his voice. I shake my head, but don’t offer any more information. “I can’t believe I was always such an asshole to you. I am sorry, you know?” He looks up at me, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

  “You don’t need to apologize. I pushed or scared everyone away on purpose. I was the asshole,” I reply honestly.

  “Yeah, but I should have seen through the act. If anyone was going to, it should have been me,” his voice tapers off with a frustrated sigh.

  “Okay it’s. . . a little better. I figured the liquid bandage would be better than giant Band-Aids on your face—although the bruising around your eye and jaw are looking rough.”

  “I was hoping you could try to make it a lot better, with makeup or whatever. I have a few parties tonight and I can’t show up like this.” He looks up hopefully.

  “Fine, ya needy bitch, but you're out of here right after I finish.”

  He nods quickly and smiles with the unscathed side of his mouth. I apply some foundation carefully and do my best to hide the discolored skin. There’s not much I can do with the swelling, but thankfully the peas helped bring it down quite a bit. Once I declare I’m finished, he goes to the mirror hanging over the dresser and examines my work.

  “Not bad, Reap.” He spins around and picks me up in a bear hug. He’s quite a bit taller than me and my face smashes into his chest. My first instinct is to punch him in the ribs, but surprising myself, I relax in his arms.

  “Thank you,” he says roughly and lands a chaste kiss on the top of my head.

  This week has been a fucking nightmare and the one person I want, I have to keep at an arm’s length, and it is killing me. I can’t tell anyone. I can’t do anything. I’m fucking trapped in his cage, no matter where I am. A hot tear slides down my face that I quickly try to cover up.

  “Holy fuck, Reap, did I break you?” His eyes look over me fearfully.

  “Shut up, it’s just been a long week.”

  “I’ve just never seen you look so. . .” His eyes roll up to the ceiling as he searches for the right word.

  “Human?” I deadpan.

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “I was thinking vulnerable, but yeah, that works. too. Is there anything I can do?” He pushes his hair out of his eyes to look at me.

  “You just did.” I give him a tight smile. “Now. . . get the hell out of my room Chase.” I demand as I push him back toward the window he came through.

  Chapter 41

  ─────

  Andrew

  It’s dark and my back is a little sore and stiff. Looking around, I realize I must have passed out in the living room. My watch reads that it’s a little past eleven. How strange that nobody woke me up for dinner. Reaching to scratch my chest, something on my shirt crinkles. Pulling off the note taped to my chest, I squint to read Mom’s neat handwriting:

  Honey, you’ve been tired and grumpy lately so I let you sleep. If you wake up hungry, leftovers are in the fridge. Love you, grouchy bear!

  With a grunt, I slap the note onto a cushion. From the corner of my eye I see movement on the stairway and still my body. It doesn’t take long to figure out who it is once I see the silhouette. Tessa doesn’t even glance over in my direction as she hits the last step and heads to the front door, never slowing her pace.

  Is she running again? Shit.

  Once the front door clicks shut, I jump up and sprint upstairs. I change into something clean and freshen up, grabbing my phone and keys I sprint to the garage. She can’t be far on foot, but when I peek out the window, I see her getting into a sleek, black sports car that speeds away into the night. Jumping into the Prius, I jam my key into the ignition, and the engine purrs to life.

  Yeah purrs, not roars, ‘cause we just had to get a freaking Prius.

  I back out of the garage and before long, I’ve caught up to the mysterious vehicle. As I start to recognize buildings, I have to take several deep breaths to calm myself.

  Of course, she goes crawling back to this. I wonder if she’s been here screwing random guys even after what happened between us.

  I force the nasty thought out of my head and remind myself that if she was just doing this for fun, why would I have seen so much fear in her eyes? Why was she so miserable this past week?

  I slink down in the car and watch as Tess and someone I recognize as an Oasis bodyguard disappear inside the club. Gripping the door handle, I pause before opening the door.

  Is going inside really my best move here?

  She clearly didn’t want me knowing she was still coming here, I should walk away, let her make her own stupid life decisions.

  I should put the key back into the ignition, start up this stupid car, and drive home.

  Right now.

  Just go home.

  Instead, her fe
ar-stricken eyes flash to the forefront of my mind. I swing open the door and head inside, fake ID pocketed, I’m ready to get to the bottom of this.

  It’s almost midnight, and the club is beyond packed. It looks a lot different from the last time I was here. Everywhere I look sweaty people move to the music, I feel like I’m in the middle a writhing snake nest.

  Music pounds so loud I feel the vibration in my bones. Behind huge frosted windows I see the silhouette of exotic plants as well as bodies in precarious positions. Barely clothed, flawless women and men can be found working the bar or dancing on lifted platforms. The women are glowing and disguised to look like creatures while the men are all oiled up in loincloths.

  My eyes are almost immediately drawn upward, it’s as if the ceiling has been replaced with twinkling stars. On the second level, guests lean over the balcony railings, throwing confetti over the crowd. Then there’s the weird giant cage where more girls can be seen dancing inside.

  I push forward, passing out shots to my left is a gorgeous girl sporting cat ears, whiskers, a tail, and glowing cheetah spots. Her tiny spandex outfit shows off her olive dark skin and enormous breasts. Dancing up on the bar is a tiny redhead, her pale skin covered in blue paint that resembles scales. Her swaying hips have caused her miniskirt to ride up until her ass cheeks are peeking out from underneath. A sheer top displays her small but perky tits.

  Where the hell am I?

  I snap my hanging jaw shut and remind myself why I’m here.

  It’s complete madness, but I get the appeal. Everything is so wild and barbaric. You can get lost in a place like this, where it feels like your wildest fantasies might come true.

  Refocusing, I start again to make my way through the crowd. A drunk girl stumbles into me, licks the side of my face, and disappears. Wiping off the saliva, I shake my head and press on, looking everywhere for my girl.

  After searching for twenty or so minutes, sick and tired of being propositioned by drunk girls (and guys), I’m about ready to give up. With a sigh I glance up to the birdcage, it’s in the VIP lounge and the only place I haven’t checked.

  I wait a few minutes for my chance and slip up the stairs unnoticed. All the guests up here are wearing masks, probably to keep anonymous. Spotting one unattended, I slide past and stealthily snatch it up and tie it on. The blackish-blue mask has a small beak and looks like the head of a crow.

  All the sections are full of small groups of people, and my mind races for my next move, when I’m roughly pulled into one of the curtained rooms.

  Crap, I’ve been caught. Game over.

  “Nick, you decided to come back and stop being a little bitch? Good choice, my friend.” A masked, clearly wasted guy is slapping me on the back and guiding me to his buddies. I nod and glance over at the other six guys, drinking and lounging on a U-shaped couch. I’ve stumbled into some birthday event for the blond one who’s apparently just turned twenty-one. As long as they think I’m this Nick guy, I have my ticket to the VIP lounge.

  A hush falls across the upper level as the lights dim and the music stops. Drunk guy is next to me again, hand on my shoulder steadying himself.

  “This is the best club man. Fuck Jen, you can do better. Check out these bitches in the cage. They are worth every damn penny,” he slurs into my ear, excitedly watching the cage for any movement.

  Black lights snap on and various platforms throughout the cage raise up with women on them. Each is disguised as some sort of bird or creature with wings. I spot one dancer with dragonfly wings and several other different types of birds, but the one closest to me is a butterfly with pale skin, dark hair, and unmistakable blue eyes.

  I came in pissed off, guns blazing, but the anger ebbs as I watch. Her hair falls in loose curls around her shoulders, framing a black mask that contrasts perfectly with her icy blue eyes. Designs swirl on her arms, legs, and chest glowing fiercely under the lights. Strips of black cloth wrap snugly around her body, the gaps between each strip reveal a different section of exposed flesh. A few smaller strips of cloth run horizontally across her flat stomach, and the rest of the material flows into a long skirt.

  She quite literally takes my breath away—until my chest seizes and I have to remember to inhale.

  I mentally yell at my dick for being hard when all I want is to be furious with her. Drunk guy isn’t drunk enough to miss my reaction either.

  “Good choice, man, the butterfly is fuckin’ hot. Don’t piss her off though. Buddy of mine once got a kick to the balls from that feisty cunt.”

  Hearing this asshole refer to my girl as a cunt makes my blood boil.

  Cool it, man, don’t get kicked out before you can talk to her.

  A favorite song of Marybeth’s suddenly blasts on—Dancing in the Dark, I think it’s called, and my attention is fully returned to Tess. All the caged girls begin dancing and the masked VIPs are pressed against the bars, cash waving around to entice one to head their direction. Two girls make their way to a platform against the bars where they grind against each other to the music, only stopping to make out.

  I don’t pull out any money. I step forward, grip one of the metal bars, and watch her dance, too mesmerized to do anything else. Surprisingly, she gravitates my direction regardless. When she’s on a platform only a few feet away, her body finds a seductive rhythm to the beat. Her body twists and dips perfectly in sync with the song. When her hand slides down her exposed thigh, she bites her lip and I’m about ready to burst. Beads of sweat glisten on her body and a peaceful look steals across her face as she becomes lost in the music.

  When the song ends, she hops onto the edge of the cage and grabs onto the bars directly in front of me. Meeting her gaze, I watch her lips part and eyes widen in recognition. An involuntary smirk crosses my lips, feeling smug to have the upper hand for once.

  “Andrew?” she whispers. The next song blares to life and she begins to dance, her eyes never leaving mine.

  I nod. “I thought you were running again,” I admit, glancing over my shoulder to my fake friends only to receive several big smiles and a thumbs-ups.

  “What? No, of course not. This is me, Andrew. This is my life. . . ” she trails off and looks away, but not before I can see the torment in her eyes.

  “Bullshit,” I retort.

  “This is my life, and you deserve better. I know it’s tomorrow, but you should see if Bailey has a date to the dance.”

  “Stop.” My raised voice causes a bodyguard to turn his head our direction.

  “You have to go,” she pleads, her eyes flitting around in a panic, searching for something. Or someone.

  “No.” I keep my voice firm, “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Her eyes close as she takes in a deep breath and shoots a nervous look back over to the bodyguard watching us. “Fine, just fine. Stick money into the strap on my hip, and once I’m out, you’ll take me over to that empty room.” She nods her head over to a small, curtained-off area with a few cushioned chairs and a metal icebox full of champagne bottles.

  “What? Tess, that’s—No. ” Conflicted thoughts race through my mind.

  Does she think she can seduce me to distract me? It wouldn't work. I have some damn self-control. It will not work.

  I’m almost positive.

  Fingers snap in my face, kicking me out of my horribly timed fantasy. “Now, Blackwell, it’s the only way we can have some privacy to talk,” she hisses.

  Fumbling a little, I take out the largest bills in my wallet and slide them under a strip of material that crosses over her shimmery hip. Giving the bodyguard some sort of signal, she opens the cage door nearest me and we head to the private room.

  Closing the heavy black curtain behind us, we’re free from prying eyes, and the blaring music allows us to talk without worry of being overheard. She leads me to a plush, circular chair that’s clearly designed for receiving lap dances. Dragging over a small, black stool, she parks it directly in front of me and slides on. Her hands fid
get in her lap, eyes glued to them as if she’s suddenly grown an extra finger.

  I remove my mask and place my hands over hers, and she finally lifts her chin to look me square in the eye. To my horror, she looks as if she’s about to cry. The hopeless expression on her face makes me feel wretched for all the shit I pulled today.

  “What’s going on?” I gently flip over her right hand and lightly trace figure-eights across her palm. She closes her eyes for a minute, and when they reopen I’m relieved to see the tears are blinked back and she looks a little more grounded.

  “Ace. . . he found me when I was out shopping with Beth.”

  “Who? That British guy from before?” I grimace, remembering the way his hands were all over her.

  “No, no, that was nobody. Ace is the owner of Oasis.”

  “Okay? Wh—” I start, but she shakes her head to stop me.

  “Just please, let me finish.” She retrieves her hand and rubs her temple in frustration. I nod and sit back, letting her know I’m ready listen.

  “You have to understand. It wasn’t safe to go back home when I left. I was sixteen, on the streets, hungry, and desperate. Ace found me one night curled up on a park bench, and he brought me here. He cleaned me up, fed me, and I started working here at the club, dancing, bartending, whatever he needed.” She looks at me fiercely, daring me to judge or pity her, but I do neither. I simply nod again for her to continue.

  She tilts her head back and lets out a long, exasperated breath. “I thought. . . I thought this was my only option. I danced in the cage, even gave lap dances sometimes, but I never fucked anyone, Andrew. He asked if I would, and the money would have been enough for me to get my own place, but I refused. I earned just enough to keep myself fed and in decent enough clothes to not be targeted by the counselor at school. I’m not a whore. God, I’ve never even fucked anyone, Andrew; not by choice, anyway. Dammit! I’m not a whore! Do you understand?” Eyes wild, hysteria creeps up in her voice, fists clenched so tight that her knuckles are turning white.