Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Wanting something I’ve only experienced once before—at the bonfire—keeps me wound tight with anxiety. They accepted my weirdness then. Surely, they’ll notice how awkward I am this time?
No, these nerves twist my insides with a different kind of tension. Why?
The porn stars? Maybe. I have zero experience or knowledge about that industry. Coffins, embalming, formaldehyde ratios, flower arrangements, grief management—those I can handle in my sleep. I can sew a shattered jaw shut and make it look like it never happened. But sex on camera—lighting, angles, what positions look the best for an audience? Nope. That’s a whole different universe. One I have no map for. No script. Just insecurity and a lingering fear that I’ll be the weird, awkward outsider who wandered onto the wrong set.
My creepy doll story probably won’t help me at this party.
Hope reaches out, giving my arm an affectionate squeeze. “Go ahead. We’ll be in soon.” She flicks her gaze to Jigsaw. “Wait until you see what the guys did to your clubhouse.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“It has to be seen to be believed,” Hope promises.
As we step inside the doors, a black curtain blocks our view. Red glows around the edges. A biker standing to the side pulls the curtain back, motioning for us to move forward.
“What the fuuuuck?” Jigsaw mutters.
Rooster leans in and shouts, “It gets worse, don’t worry.”
We step into a large room glowing with bloodred lights. The furniture to the right appears to be all black leather couches, chairs, and ottomans. At least seventy inches of television screen takes up the wall behind one couch. Congratulations, Stella! scrolls over the screen with 500K underneath.
“Why does it look like the devil’s darkroom in here?” Jigsaw asks Rooster.
More like vampire’s whorehouse.
A low, sensual beat thrums from hidden speakers. Loud enough to add to the ambiance but not drown out conversation. Gasping, thumping, and grunting comes from one corner, and I crane my neck, looking past Jigsaw toward a pool table being violated by at least three people.
“Oh my,” I gasp and quickly look away.
Jigsaw curls his hand around mine. “Do you want something to drink?”
I eye the bar straight ahead of us against the wall. Two girls in what looks like red lingerie are behind the long wooden counter, serving drinks to people. “Uh, sure.”
Rooster follows us over to the bar.
“What’s with all the red?” I ask Jigsaw. “I thought your colors were blue and silver?”
“I have no idea.” Jigsaw pauses. “No, I have an idea.” He slides a look Rooster’s way. “Stella’s ‘theme’ for the night?”
“Got it in one.” Rooster points at Jigsaw, then nods to a hallway on his left. “Other rooms have purple lighting,” he adds in a sarcastic tone, “blue, green, and I don’t know what else.”
We stop at the bar and one of the girls slides over to us. “Hi, Jiggy!” Her bright gaze lands on me. “Hi, Margot, right? We met upstate.”
She looks familiar. The only club girl who’d been decent to me up there. Unusual name. L something…“Lala, right?”
Her smile widens even more, pleased I remembered her name. “That’s me.”
“Hi, again.” I lift my hand in a quick, dorky wave. Lala responds with a similar gesture, helping me feel less goofy.
“What can I get you?” She turns slightly, the movement shifting the lace covering her breasts enough that one almost falls out. What an uncomfortable outfit for serving drinks.
I glance up at Jigsaw but his grim stare’s focused on the shelves of bottles on the wall, or maybe the mirror behind it.
“The selection’s not bad tonight,” Lala says. “Pretty much any soda you might want, some fruit juices, lots of different beer, and I can do some mixed drinks. Our signature drink for the night is what we’re calling the Velvet Crown—it’s champagne with a splash of blackberry liqueur.”
“Oh. That sounds interesting.” I glance up at Jigsaw. “I’ll try that.” My voice comes out almost like a question.
Why am I asking his permission to have a drink?
One corner of his mouth tips up and he brushes his knuckles over my bare arm. “Have anything you want.”
“Coming right up!” Lala says.
I’m so focused on watching Lala make my drink, I don’t notice the other woman sliding over to Jigsaw.
“What do you want tonight?” she asks in a raspy tone.
I glance over and she’s leaning on the bar with her boobs pushed so far out of her lacy top I spy areola.
“Just a beer, Bonnie. Thanks,” he answers without looking at her.
Lala passes me a champagne glass. Under the strange red lighting, the bubbly liquid takes on a muddy hue. Lala garnished it with a plump, fresh blackberry on the rim. I pop that in my mouth first, then take a sip.
Bonnie slides down closer to me. Mean-girl eyes focused on my face.
I take a sip, blinking against the unexpected rush of sweetness.