Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
Charlie
“ C heers to a step in the right direction!”
Anne practically vibrates with barely contained excitement. No doubt she’s mostly patting herself on the back for her great and wonderful idea of making Lillian my fiancé just over a week after meeting her for the first time.
I raise my glass, letting her clink against it, and have a taste of the brown liquor. She keeps talking, so I tune her out to scan the small crowd gathered for our event. It’s a sea of muted colors that sounds like gowns brushing the floor and crystal clinking together.
Just another fundraiser.
We’re raising money to pay off community medical debt in the next city over from Shade Valley as part of our campaign. We don’t need the funds for campaigning—I’ve already got that covered. So after spreading the message to the people, I hold a separate fundraising event afterward, something toned down and formal.
It generates great press.
That’s not what Anne is talking about. She keeps going on and on about how well Lillian was received. They got great shots of her coming in and out of Emerald and caught the rock on her finger as expected.
“She was beautiful,” Anne exclaims. “Did you see?—”
“I was there, Anne,” I remind her gently.
“Yes, I know, but reality doesn’t always translate well into pictures. She was lovely! The consensus is?—”
I know what the consensus is.
I look for familiar faces in the room, anyone outside of the campaign team I might need to chat with. Tommy stands off to my left somewhere, keeping an eye on things.
It’s only the Monday evening after our date, so no one has had the chance to suggest Lillian might be a ploy to make me look good. She is, but to Anne’s credit, she doesn’t look that way at all. In the paparazzi shots, Lillian looks like a flower by my side, blushing and demure. We look good together. Anyone who slings mud at her will need a damn good reason.
I let the alcohol burn my throat as I take another drink.
I didn’t expect her to keep her cool at Emerald. She didn’t. But the waiter was none the wiser.
“You know, we’ll have to get her on the campaign as soon as she moves in with you,” Anne leans in closer and continues quietly. “They’ll start asking questions, so we’ll need to finish up your backstory, how you met, what your dates were like, about her family—oh, right. Her parents are dead, so that’ll be a sensitive subject.”
“Her parents are dead?” I repeat, raising my eyebrows. So much for the wholesome background. “That’s not going to be a problem for us?”
“No, no, no, I don’t think so.” Anne appears to think about it, then shakes her head firmly. “No. It’s nice, you’re giving family back to her, creating a new family with her. It’s perfect.”
Anne’s convinced herself. She looks satisfied as she looks around and, thankfully, suddenly shoots herself off with an apology and an excuse. Something about checking the donations.
So her parents are dead? For the campaign’s sake, I better look through the information Anne gathered on her. Can’t get caught saying something contradictory. I should have done it already, but interviews won’t be scheduled too soon. I have time.
Lillian.
I grin to myself and recall how hungry she was for my fingers. She was a bitch in heat, begging for it with her hips if not with her mouth. The way she lost herself, dissolving into a puddle right in front of me, I can tell.
She’s never had a man like me.
Next time, I’ll make her do it sober. The girl can’t handle her liquor, clearly. And she’ll do it. She’ll do whatever I tell her to do, when I tell her.
Lillian wants me.
I’ll make her tell me how she wants it, where she needs it.
“Ch-Charlie?”
At the sound of that voice, the room seems to fall away for a second. Why is she here? What hole did she even crawl out of? And I mean that literally—a girl like Lottie would live in a hole.
Because that’s where I told her to go.
“Charlie, it’s you! Ohh, I’ve been—oh, I mean, well, I wanted to see you!”
“Lottie.” I force a smile and look her over. She’s anxiously trying to decipher my expression with her searching green eyes. Her thick black hair, usually like a nest around her face, has been wrangled into a bouncing ponytail. Long bangs fall over the huge round lenses of her glasses. In the simple black dress, her white skin looks paler. Her dress, with its bell skirt, is so long that I can’t see her feet. She’s like a ghost.
Lottie’s been the same since high school.
“Charlie.” Lottie whispers my name longingly and keeps staring at me, as if she can’t believe I’m standing here. “I?—”
“Tell me what you’ve been up to since I last saw you,” I cut her off. I don’t want to hear what nonsense she’s about to say with that look on her face.
“Yes!” Lottie perks up and nervously starts plucking at her long sleeves as she gathers her thoughts. I shoot Tommy a glance over her head, who’s as tense as I am.
What the fuck does she want?
“Welll, actually, I really haven’t been up to much.” Lottie stops talking to look at me shyly.
“No?”
“I live with my parents. I work from home programming so I can help you with—ah, I mean, i-if you needed help, then I’d, I could do that for you. Like in college!”
“You kept up with the programming? I thought you weren’t good at it.”
“I wanted to be useful to you,” she finishes with a whisper.
I look away from her and empty my glass.
Lottie is my plaything from high school. She was so tall and awkward—still is—that she was easy pickings for anyone who was having a bad day and wanted to take it out on her. I found her one day in the woods behind my house, hiding out from one thing or another, and it was the first time I had been alone with another girl before. Mom kept me on a strict schedule to and from school, no time to socialize with any girls other than my sister. I didn’t find her attractive then. I never did. But that didn’t mean Lottie couldn’t show me a good time.
Lottie was easy to break. I kept her around all through high school. Hovering around me meant that she wasn’t bullied by others anymore. Just me. And Lottie developed a taste for my violence. By college—she aimed for my choice—I was passing her around to Tommy. He walked in on me fucking her in the men’s room, so I offered her up.
He’s been my right hand ever since.
But Lottie.
“What are you doing here?” I finally ask the question on my mind.
“I-I bought a ticket!” she answers simply. When my eyes land back on her, stony, she flinches. “Charlie,” she whines.
“I told you I never wanted to see you again, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but?—”
“And here you are. What do you want?”
Lottie squeezes her eyes shut. “Mmm. Charlie, I want to help you!” Her voice is pleading. I look around to see if anyone has caught the tone in her voice, then soften my expression. I’ll need to play this carefully.
“Help me with what, Lottie?” I ask gently.
She peeks at me, looking up at me from beneath her bangs. She’s not much shorter than me—it’s just the way she carries herself.
“I saw y-you’re engaged now, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you aren’t.” Her voice takes on a singsong quality, and her lips curl into a knowing smile. “You can’t be.”
“What makes you say that?” I dare her.
“You hate women.” Lottie bites her lip. “There’s no way you’d be interested in a pristine girl like that. I know— I know what your tastes are, Charlie. You’re, you got her because she’ll make you look good, right?” she asks quietly.
“Where are you going with this?” I let her know she’s treading on thin ice.
“I can help you, Charlie. I can make you look good and satisfy your urges. Your Lottie can do it all, Charlie. You don’t have to settle?—”
My laughter cuts her off as I immediately brush off what she's saying. “You, Lottie? You look like you should be hanging out in a cemetery. Have you even seen the sun lately?”
“I could?—”
“I know what you can do, Lottie. Listen,” I discard my glass and level with her—after motioning subtly for Tommy to head over. I can’t be seen with her much longer. She needs to turn into a well-wisher who’s on her way. Lottie can’t be an old friend. “You’re right. Good job, Lottie. Our campaign plan is already in motion, though. You’re too late. If I wanted you to serve this position, I would have called you. But I don’t. You know you don’t fit the image we’re going for, not even if you dyed your hair and got a tan. You don’t mingle well with others, you don’t have anything that even resembles a poker face, you’re not right for the job.”
I watch her face to see if it’s sinking in. She’s deflating, her eyes darting around in search of a rebuttal. She’ll keep protesting if I let her. Only one thing can divert her attention in a situation like this—if she can’t get her way, then a punishment will do.
“Tell you what. How about I get Tommy here to invite you back around one of these days, and we’ll catch up, huh?”
“I-I wanted to?—”
“Are you getting greedy, Lottie?”
“No!”
“You’ve turned into a greedy, calculating girl since the last time I saw you.”
“No, I haven’t!”
“Haven’t you? I told you not to come around again. And here you are, on a Monday evening, in a different city. You followed me here.”
Lottie chews on her bottom lip.
“Don’t look scared!” I snap under my breath, looking around for someone else to move over to. Is that Gary? What’s he doing here? “Give your information to Tommy, and I’ll send for you. Alright?”
Lottie looks like she wants to protest, but Tommy places a light hand on her back. She stiffens, expression going blank. It’s a warning. She’s overstepped.
“O-okay, okay, Charlie. I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”
“Are you going to keep causing a scene and jeopardizing my efforts?”
“No, no!” Lottie smiles hard, raising her eyebrows too high. “Thank you, and good luck with everything!” She finishes loudly, finally catching on.
With a nod to Tommy, I stride away to go see why Gary showed up. His campaign is over, and I don’t fully buy that he’s here to promote me for free.
More importantly, just what the fuck am I going to do with Lottie?