Chapter 7 Willow #2
My skin flashes hot and cold and then hot again, the waves of anxiety making me feel like I’ve got a fever or something.
It’s like I’m a different person now. Like everything that happened before last night happened to someone else, and I’m trying to step into this new person’s life and figure out how to navigate it.
Campus is the usual busy mess of students. People call to each other from across the grounds, and someone goes whizzing by me on a skateboard, laughing as they head toward another group of students.
For a second, I just stand on the paved walkway, blinking in the bright sunlight. It feels like the first day of school all over again, and I have to force myself to remember what day it is and what classes I have to go to today.
“Hey, Willow!”
The voice jerks me out my thoughts, and I turn my head to see Colin DeVry heading toward me.
He has an easy going grin on his face, and on any other day, the sight of him would probably have my heart racing a little. Colin is handsome in a classical way. Sandy blond hair falls over his forehead, and he shakes it away from his clear blue eyes as he comes to a stop in front of me.
“Hi, Colin.” My voice sounds raspy and weird to my ears, and I wonder if it sounds the same to him. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Same old, you know.” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “So listen, I was wondering something about the reading we’re supposed to do for Fowler’s class. Have you done it yet?”
I can barely remember what homework assignment he’s talking about, but I shake my head anyway. “Um, no. Not yet. Have you?”
“Yeah, I started to. I just don’t quite get what Fowler is looking for in the response.” Colin makes a face. “Anyway, let me know when you finish it. Maybe we can compare notes before we turn our stuff in, yeah?”
“Oh. Sure.” I nod, trying to put a convincing smile on my face. “That would be great.”
“Cool. Catch you later.”
He grins at me again, then turns and heads across the quad toward a few of his friends who are hanging out nearby. I watch him go before finally forcing my feet to start moving.
Colin is a lot more popular than I am, and he’s one of the few people on campus who hasn’t followed April’s lead by either bullying me or ignoring me.
We’ve never really hung out, but he’s asked me to study with him a few times, and usually, talking to him first thing in the day like this would put me in a good mood.
But nothing can break through the cloud that seems to follow me across campus like a dark haze.
It clings to me as I go to each of my classes, wrapping around me and making goosebumps rise up on my skin as the professors drone on.
It follows me out onto the quad at lunch, so thick around me that I barely even hear April and her cronies making fun of me as they walk past.
The only thing that pulls me out of my stupor for a moment is the sight of the administration office as I pass by it on my way to the bus stop at the end of the day. A sharp pang of worry shoots through my stomach, cutting through the knot that already sits low in my belly.
The money for my tuition is still due soon, and I still don’t have a way to get it. Selling my virginity was supposed to be the answer, but since the man who was going to pay for it is dead now, that clearly didn’t work.
And now I have no idea what to do or how to get the money.
I sit in the back of the bus on the way to work, keeping my head down and letting my long blonde hair fall around my face like a curtain, blocking everything else out.
After getting off at the usual stop, I walk the rest of the way to Sapphire like I do every day. On top of how I was already feeling, nerves twist in my gut at the thought of going back to the club after what happened.
Part of me—a huge part, actually—wants to call in sick and not have to deal with Carl or anyone else today, but I know it’s probably for the best to just go about my life as if nothing has happened.
So when I reach the club, I take a deep breath and step inside.
“Willow!”
Carl barks my name as soon as I step through the door. I jump at the sound of his loud voice, pressing my hand to my chest to try to calm my racing heart as I glance over at him. I don’t know what he’s doing out on the floor. It’s pretty rare to see him outside of his office.
The few patrons already at the club are lost in their drinks, so they barely even glance at me as I make my way over to where Carl is standing, his arms crossed over his chest.
“My office,” he says, jerking a thumb at me as I approach. “Right now.”
“Okay.”
My heart starts to beat faster as I follow him to the back, the hairs on my neck prickling. What does he want?
Inside his office, Carl closes the office door with a snap and then sinks into the chair behind his desk, his eyes narrowed as he looks at me. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me with an expectant expression, like he’s waiting for me to speak.
When I don’t, he huffs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. “What the fuck happened?”
The feeling of ants crawling over my skin intensifies. “I… um, I don’t—”
“Apparently, the brothel burned down last night,” he interrupts. “The whole fucking place went up in smoke.”
My eyes widen, the breath freezing in my lungs. Holy shit. That must’ve happened after I left. Maybe it was an accident, or…
No.
It wasn’t an accident. Those three men who killed the Russian guy did it. They must’ve burned the brothel to cover their tracks.
“Giselle died in the fire,” Carl continues, I can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset about that or not. I didn’t get the impression the two of them were close friends—more like reluctant business associates.
He raises his eyebrows at me, clearly demanding some kind of explanation.
“I didn’t know about any of that,” I say, my throat tight. “I-I wasn’t there long. The john who came in, he… he kicked me out before that happened. He wasn’t happy with me.”
It’s only a half lie. The Russian man really wasn’t happy with me. He made that clear enough before everything exploded into chaos and he was killed.
Carl sits back in his chair with a snort. He looks me up and down slowly and then shakes his head. “Guess I can’t be surprised about that.”
My stomach clenches. Of course that’s how Carl feels. He thinks I’m a freak, so why wouldn’t he believe that the Russian sent me packing instead of fucking me, even though he was willing to pay more for a virgin?
“Hey,” my boss says, snapping his knobby fingers. “Pay attention.”
“I am,” I reply, biting back everything else I want to say to him.
“You keep your mouth shut about all this, you hear me? I don’t need the cops poking around and asking questions.”
He glances around the office as if a police officer might somehow be hidden behind a filing cabinet or something.
I know he just doesn’t want them to find out that he was funneling girls to a brothel if they decide to investigate, but he’s not the first person who’s told me to keep what went down last night a secret, so I nod.
“Of course. I won’t say anything. I promise.”
“Good.” Carl nods, looking satisfied. “Now get to work.”
It’s a relief to leave his office, even if it does mean putting on the work uniform I hate so much.
After running through the streets half naked and barefoot last night, wearing this moderately revealing dress makes my skin tingle with discomfort, but I try to swallow it down and stay focused on my job.
Even with everything else going on, I can’t afford to get fired.
I’ve worked at Sapphire long enough that I can wait tables on autopilot, which is good. It might not be the best service I’ve ever given, but whatever. People get their drinks.
As the evening wears on, the club starts to get busier.
A table of seven comes in at one point, and it sounds like they’re celebrating something—either a birthday or a promotion.
It’s hard to tell, since it’s clear they’ve already been pre-gaming somewhere else.
I lean in close to get their orders, and from behind me, I feel a hand on my ass.
I jerk in surprise, more jumpy than usual after being manhandled so much last night.
It’s not the first time someone has tried to cop a feel on me at work. Mostly, everyone’s focus stays on the stage, but sometimes the men here get so shit-faced or horny that they can’t tell the difference between the dancers and the waitresses.
“Sir, you—”
I start to tell the guy off, but before I can, someone grabs his hand in what looks like a crushing grip.
The man yelps in pain, and I look up and suck in a sharp breath when I realize I know the person who’s come to my rescue.
It’s Ransom.
His lips quirk up at the corners like he’s about to smile, but there’s ice in his eyes as he turns his attention to the drunk club patron.
“You wanna keep this hand?” he asks conversationally, squeezing it even tighter and making the guy contort to try to ease the pressure. “Then don’t put it on that girl. Ever. Got it?”
He releases the man’s hand as he finishes speaking, and all the guys’ friends stare at the two of them, probably wondering if there’s about to be a fight or something. The guy cradles his hand against his chest, puffing himself up a little with what’s probably a lot of liquid courage.
“Oh yeah?” he slurs. “And who the fuck is gonna stop me? Huh? You?”
Ransom shrugs, his eyes glinting. “If that’s what it takes, then yeah.”
The man stands up from his chair, lifting his chin like he’s about to go toe to toe with Ransom, but something he sees in those blue-green eyes makes him back down almost immediately, taking the wind out of him.
“Whatever,” he mumbles, dropping his head and slinking away through the crowd.
Ransom watches him go for a half second before turning his focus back to me, and my stomach drops with a sickening lurch as our gazes meet.