Chapter 4
Icould hear the bass thumping through the floor before I even got the damn door open.
I stopped with my hand on the handle.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Tapping the metal frame with my knuckle, I tested it, exhaled, and finally pulled it open.
“You coming, Cry Baby?” Melodie called over her shoulder, her auburn hair twisted nearly into a bun on her head.
After the awkward shower, where she just stared at me, she’d changed into a lingerie-looking thing. It was a pink lacy top, paired with a black leather skirt, and finished off with heels that made her tower over my five-foot-eight frame.
I jogged a bit to catch up and forced a laugh that made the itchy fabric of my own outfit choke my neck.
“I guess so, but I was considering faking my death,” I said.
“You’d still have to come inside, stiff or not. You know Natalie.”
“Shit. That’s probably accurate.”
She laughed, grabbing my wrist before I could think of another excuse, and dragged me forward.
The place was packed, and my ears already were ringing.
People were shouting over each other, everyone afraid that their damn mouth might not be the loudest in the room. The alcohol wasn’t helping in the slightest.
Glasses clinked together, and I tried not to count them and to focus on Melodie’s words instead.
“Do you even know anything yet about flirting?”
Ice rattled and I focused on the sound, and then a pool ball cracked somewhere behind me. The bartender slammed a cocktail shaker onto the counter…
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
My jaw clenched.
“That’s a no,” Melodie said. “What’ll you have?”
“I’ll take crippling anxiety with a splash of lime.”
She snorted.
“I meant to drink, dork. You’re funny. What’s your name? I know it’s not Cry Baby.”
I shrugged, already uncomfortable any time I tried to think of my past. The counting always became extra intense and I rarely got out of the vortex when that happened. Instead of curling up and bawling my eyes out like a bitch, I shrugged.
“Dunno.”
The bartender walked over to us and eyed me suspiciously, like always.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll have an old fashioned,” Melodie said, and slid her sparkly eyes toward me. “And he’ll have…”
The bartender cut her off. “ID?”
When I gave Melodie a sheepish look, she surfed her purse for her own ID and looked at me again.
“The kids menu then,” the bartender said to me, and I felt my jaw clench.
“How old are you, No Name?”
“I’m twenty,” I said, and then added, “Don’t start.”
Melodie rolled her eyes.
“Natalie needs to get you a laminate.” To the bartender, she said, “Give him a Shirley Temple.”
My cheeks flamed with heat.
“A fucking Shirley Temple? Really?”
“Yes, little baby. You want an extra cherry? It’s better you stay sober, to be honest.”
“Ugh. No…and why?”
Melodie smiled, satisfied, and fixed her tits in the reflection of the glass behind the bar. “You said you wanted to learn.”
“I didn’t realize sobriety was part of the curriculum.”
She smirked. “It absolutely is for your first hunt.”
The bartender slid the drinks over, and Melodie took a sip, then nearly downed the thick liquid. I just wrapped both hands around the glass of my stupid girly drink like it was an emotional support animal.
She stared at me and smiled wider.
“What?”
“You look like a virgin in a nightclub.”
“Shocker.”
Another burst of laughter escaped her.
“Okay, rule number one.”
“I already hate it.”
“Stop hunching your damn back, and stop looking at the floor.”
“I’m standing.”
She caught my gaze and lifted my head with her nail like the Mistress always did.
“Stop, dude. It’s like you’re apologizing.”
“I usually am.”
Melodie sighed and shook her head, exasperated. “Not anymore, baby boy! Now, shoulders back.”
I exaggerated it so hard my chest puffed out like a damn peacock, and I set my glare on her. “Happy?”
“You look constipated.”
“I contain multitudes.”
She reached over, shoved one of my shoulders down, fussed with my hair, and then nudged my chin upward again.
The reflection in the bar mirror looked strange to me, staring back at us.
“There. A sex god in the making.”
People kept walking up behind us, staring at us like we were meat slabs, and the discomfort made me squirm, but Melodie had a special look for each person—a catered beauty tailored for each gaze.
She was a master of her art.
Every perfume that passed me smelled different, and it made me nauseous.
Someone’s keys jingled near my ear, and I swiveled my head around.
Jingle.
Clink.
Jingle.
Clink.
The bartender dropped another glass in front of Melodie, and Melodie downed it like the one before, sitting down on the barstool and gesturing for me to do the same.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
I swallowed.
“You’re counting.”
“No.”
“You just counted.”
“I absolutely didn’t.”
“Cry Baby. You aren’t the only lie detector. Natalie put me on the case because we’re a lot alike. I have autism, and my ‘tism can recognize your OCD.”
My what?
“What’s autism?”
Melodie held her heart sympathetically.
“It’s a different way of seeing the world. For you, the world is louder than it is to others. Counting grounds you. For me, sex makes me feel more human.”
“Maybe a little.”
She softened for half a second, and her smile seemed different, less fake, more…friendly?
“Too loud for you right now?”
I nodded once.
“Too many sounds?”
Another nod.
She leaned against the bar, tapped the wood for another drink, then turned back to me. “Then quit trying to hear all of them.”
“I don’t exactly have an off switch,” I argued.
“I know.”
That surprised me enough to stop counting.
“You know?”
“I’m not that different. But it is a choice. You have to keep your cards close, or Natalie will devour you. Don’t want that, do you, Jailbait? She already has a special attachment to you. Why is that?”She looked me over, studying me as if for the first time, despite the earlier voyeuristic shower.
“Dunno. Been with her since I was a kid.”
Melodie shook her head. “Jesus, kid. I’m sorry. I got into this life by choice, but I know I don’t exactly have a choice about leaving it now. People like us only leave one way.”
I swallowed, and despite the fact that I knew already, I asked, “How?”
“In a body bag. That’s the only peace for us. We can’t survive as normies. It would kill us more surely than a good death.”
The way she spoke the words was so nonchalant, as if she thought of her death often.
“I don’t want to die,” I stated stubbornly, and she shrugged.
“You will. It’s a matter of time.”
Unsettled by that, I grew silent again, but she kept talking.
“You’ve counted every loud noise since we walked in.”
“Have not.”
“You tapped the door four times before coming inside.”
Damn it.
“You noticed.”
“I notice everything. Remember, my ‘tism sees your ‘tism.”
Silence.
That was all I wanted. Silence.
“So...,” I started.
She smiled.
“Let’s teach you how to flirt before you die alone with seventeen cats and Natalie as your baby mama.”
“I don’t even like cats.”
“Then perfect!” She beamed, clapping her hands excitedly, her childish nature surfacing. If she didn’t have massive tits and drink alcohol like a fish, I’d have believed she was even younger than me.
“Why’s that, Mel?”
“Men love a good challenge, Jailbait.”
“I thought confidence was attractive.”
“It is, but your shtick can’t be like a mafia man. It doesn’t fit you at all. You need to lean into your innocent doe-eyed dorkiness.”
“I don’t really know how to be anything but me, so cool…but why would they like me?”
She grinned and waggled her eyebrows at me. “Because beneath all that sarcasm is a pretty face and enough emotional damage to fuel an orphanage full of horror novels.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“Well, duh. Because it is.”
I wanted to question her further, but she scanned the room and squealed. “There!”
A guy who was actually pretty handsome sat alone at the other end of the bar, scrolling on his phone, smiling softly every now and then. He looked nerdy, maybe even shy.
Melodie nudged my shoulder and looked at me pointedly. “Homework.”
“I suddenly remember I forgot to wash my ass.”
“You did not. I watched you.”
Fuck fuck fuck.
I’m not ready.
“I left…my microwave on?”
“You don’t even own one.”
No!
Deep breaths.
One.
Two.
Three.
“I’ll buy one.”
She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “No escaping, Cry Baby. Go get your flirt on. Mama’s watching.”
I groaned into my Shirley Temple. “I hate this class already.”
“Oh, sweetheart, just wait.”Her grin turned wicked, and she smacked my ass when I got to my feet. “We haven’t even started.”