Chapter 4
“Hey Barbie, can I be your Ken?” a weak pickup line from a short man made me laugh. It wasn’t the first time a guy referred to me as Barbie.
“How about you buy me and my friends a round of shots, then call it a night?” I replied as I bopped his nose.
He knew I was out of his league, but I gave him props for trying.
While attempting to get the bartender's attention, Tiffany shouted over the music, “Why aren’t we at a table?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to know I’m here,” I shout back. “I just want to have fun before Alfie gets here without a thousand eyes on me.”
“Umm, that’s not possible,” Natasha replied. “There’s a reason why guys refer to you as Barbie.”
I laugh at the reference and try to be modest, “I don’t look like Barbie.”
“You’re right; Barbie has blue eyes and not green. What a shame.”
Tiffany said, “If those long legs and blonde hair don’t scream Barbie, then I don’t know what does. Pair that with big tits, and you got yourself a Bethany DeCarlo.”
“Ladies,” Alfie appeared with a friend around his age. “This is Mark. Mark, this is Bethany, Natasha, and Tiffany.”
I’ve never seen Alfie hang out with anyone besides the fellas, but it felt good to know he had a life outside the lifestyle. Maybe there’s hope for him after all.
“How does it feel to drink legally now?” I shouted over the music.
“Not as fun,” Alfie shouted back, “Something about doing things against the law is always more exciting.”
“Boys will be boys,” Natasha laughed.
“Our table is set up on the second floor,” Alfie motioned for us to follow.
The club's second floor was open in the middle so that you can look down onto the dance floor. It was a bit quieter and more secluded.
“I’ve never seen you around,” I said to Mark, who stood beside me at the railing, looking down onto the first floor.
“I go to college out of state,” he replied. “I try to visit every once in a while.”
“How do you know Alfie?”
“We met in one of the foster homes. We kept in touch. I’m graduating and have no job. Alfie said he would hook me up with something.”
“What exactly is he able to hook you up with?” Alfie had no outside connections aside from my brother.
“Honestly, I don’t care. My student loans aren’t going to wait for me to get a good job to start paying them.”
I nodded my head. “Well, good luck.”
“Let’s dance!” Natasha pulls me away and drags us onto the dance floor.
It wasn’t long before men swarmed us. I was enjoying myself as I swayed to the music; a pair of hands grabbed my waist from behind me and pulled me toward their body as they grind against me.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw it was an average-looking guy.
Finding someone taller than you to dance with wasn't easy when I wore my high heels—I was already tall. To see the man fit my body to his perfectly made me flashback to the sex party, which shot a thrill through me. Grinding against him got more intense as the music played. I shut my eyes, picturing that night. His hands were on my hip, keeping me attached to his body. His head nuzzled against my ear as my head fell back onto his shoulder. One of his hands slowly moved down my thigh toward the hem of my dress. A crowd of people surrounded us. I wasn’t sure who noticed, but at the same time, I didn’t care.
It felt good having someone touch me rather than use my vibrator.
His hand went up my dress, creeping toward my core, but before his finger could even touch the surface, I felt his body completely ripped away from me.
It was instant and unexpected that I lost my balance and fell onto the floor.
Annoyed, I look up and find Emilio glaring down at me.
The man I was dancing with wasn’t even in sight.
He grabbed me by the arm and hoisted me to my feet without a word, dragging me off the dance floor.
Taken to the back private room area, demanding the few people to leave, Emilio didn’t let his grip go until we were alone and out of sight.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Bethany?”
“What does it look like?” I spat out, “Having fun. Like any other normal person.”
“You’re not just a normal person,” Emilio replied, looking at me from head to toe. “You’re dressed like a prostitute.”
“It’s the same thing every girl in here is wearing.”
It was a black strapless mini dress with corset detailing on top and a sweetheart neckline. The bottom was a Milano rib jersey skirt that covered just enough. The underwired cups pushed my boobs up, making the dress look more provocative than it normally would on someone with a smaller chest.
“You’re a DeCarlo. Your ass doesn’t need to be shown to half of Chicago.”
His words lit a fire under me. “Aren’t you a bit old to even be here?”
Emilio smirked at my attempt to insult him. “Oh, you got me,” he placed his hand over his heart, “My feelings are so hurt.” He tried his best not to laugh.
“You work for my brother,” I remind him, “You shouldn’t be speaking to me this way.”
“Flexing your muscle now, are you?” there was a gleam in his eyes as though he enjoyed the challenge.
His sarcasm got under my skin even more. He was known to be heartless, so nothing I could say would phase him.
“It’s Alfie’s birthday. I’m surprised you didn’t know since you know every damn thing that happens.” I had my hand on my hip and popped to the side.
“What I know is you were told to take him out. What I saw was you dry-humping some random guy on the dance floor.”
“We were not–"
“His hand was up your dress in an open crowd of people.”
Emilio wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t a good look at all. I had left the house feeling sexy and confident wearing this dress that looked a lot shorter on me, but it wasn’t my fault I had long legs—especially with heels on.
“If you’re going to tell my brother, just go ahead. Get it over with.” I cross my arms against my chest.
“Is that how you think of me—a tattletale?”
“Right now, you don’t want to know what I think of you.”
The side of his mouth curved slightly in amusement, “I always love when people tell me about myself. You already called me old. What else ya got?”
I stared at him, thinking about a comeback.
Emilio had to be in his mid-30s, not much older than Luca, and his wasn’t phased by his age.
Maybe I can pick on his outfit, but that wouldn’t work either.
He was dressed nicely in a black button-down and dark jeans.
His gold chain that hung around his neck was visible as the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.
In my 5-inch heels, we were eye to eye and I could slightly peek down his shirt.
The door swung open, and in walked a girl, “E, are you ready to go?”
Emilio turned his attention to her, “I’ll meet you out front.” Once she left, his focus returned to me. “How about this one time I cut you some slack? If you go home now, I won’t say anything to your brother.”
I place my hands on my hip, “You’re bullshitting me.”
“Maybe,” Emilio shrugged, “But there are other things I’d rather be doing tonight than dealing with this.”
Shifting on my feet in embarrassment, “So you are going to hold this against me instead?”
“Not if you go home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” I protest.
“I’m not giving you an option.”
“I’m not giving you an alternative.”
Emilio clenched his jaw. “I’m not asking.”
“I don’t care.”
“Okay.”
I wasn’t sure what to expect as he walked toward me, but I knew there was no way he’d lay a finger on me. But to my surprise, Emilio effortlessly threw me over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?!” I shouted as my perfectly waved style blonde hair was tossed around like a rag doll.
“Taking you home.”
He carried me through the club to his grey-colored Maserati Gran Turismo parked out front and tossed me into the passenger seat. The smell of mint and eucalyptus was embedded into the black leather. Upset, embarrassed, and frustrated, I began to go off on him once he sat in the driver’s seat.
“You can’t do this!”
Unphased, Emilio replied, “I believe I just did.” He sped off, driving as though he owned the road.
“This isn’t fair.”
“Saving you from embarrassment isn’t fair?”
“Saving me?” I spat out. “You’re the one who embarrassed me!”
“You should be thankful. Do you think no one knows who you are? I was approached five times by five different people about you being here. And I let it be. I never thought it would be true when I was told how you were behaving. If it were Luca there, how would it have gone down?”
Remaining silent about the information made me feel worse about myself.
Emilio felt bad for me—I could tell. He should have interfered after the first person said something, but sometimes, he lets things slide as long as they don’t get out of hand.
Looking out the window, the tears streamed down my face.
I felt something on my lap. Looking down, I saw Emilio handing me a handkerchief.
It was the square pocket he always had paired with his suit of the day.
The kind act made me even more embarrassed.
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be crying,” he said, trying to sound gentle.
“I don’t need your pity,” I sniffled.
“At least take this and wipe your face.”
Taking the handkerchief from him, I wipe the tears that wet my skin. “Who carries these anymore?”
“I’m old, remember.”
It made me laugh, but I still avoided eye contact and focused on looking out the window.
We reach the house, and my stomach knots up.
If Luca saw me walk in dressed like this, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Anything too tight, short, or see-through was not optional wardrobe attire.
I was lucky to have left the house after he had gone out himself.
“He’s not home,” Emilio said, reading my mind.
“It’s late. Where is he?”
“We all have needs, Bethany.”
It took me a moment to understand what he was telling me. Luca was with a woman.
“His car…,” I remembered, “I had driven it tonight and left it parked on the street.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Nodding my head, I get out of the car and go inside.
The house was quiet as I walked through the foyer.
The sound of my heels against the marble floor echoed through the house.
Pulling my phone out of my bag, something fell out.
When I pick it up, I realize it’s the business card from the sex party.
All it had was a phone number. I knew I shouldn’t entertain it, but I couldn’t help myself.
An ache for thrill coursed through me, and I couldn’t help but give in.
I dialed the number, and to my luck, there was a party tonight.