chapter nine
Wren
Friday morning starts with a security meeting. Jay and I sit across from Hawk’s desk as he shows us the new security features that were placed in my house. He turns his monitors so we can see the video display of multiple cameras. There are a few workers putting some final touches on the paint and one directing a hauling company.
“As you can see, there are cameras on every exterior door and window in the home and cameras monitoring the entire exterior property. We, of course, have allowed privacy in each bedroom and bathroom. Though one camera focuses on the panic room in Wren’s bedroom. Wren, do you see it is not facing out into your room?”
“I see it,” I say.
“Do you agree with all the camera placements?” Hawk asks.
“Yeah,” I say dismissively.
Jay clears his throat before saying in a voice just above a whisper, “The gable just outside the master bedroom. Has it been secured?”
“We have cameras that have it in immediate focus, yes.”
“And what are the windows made of…?” Jay continues.
“They are bulletproof, I assure you. Tested it myself,” Hawk says proudly.
“Oh, I’m sure my new neighbors loved that,” I say sardonically.
Nobody answers me.
“Each time an exterior door is opened, it will send alerts to your phones and us here at headquarters,” Hawk continues his lecture.
“That’s convenient and not annoying,” I say and cross my arms over my chest.
“We don’t care how many times you go in and out of your front door, Wren. You could make that your entire occupation. We only care if that door gets opened in the middle of the night or by someone who should not be gaining entrance,” Hawk scolds lightly.
“And is Jay supposed to be standing guard all night?”
“No, Jay will sleep when you sleep,” Hawk answers. “We will have a night guard Crow watching the cameras, just like we have here.”
“Your watch,” he says and points to my wrist that holds one of Dad’s company’s highest tech watches. “Will continue to monitor both of your locations and biometrics. I will warn you it will take us longer to respond to emergencies. And the response would likely be the local law enforcement before us. This is why there is a panic room in your master bedroom, the center of the first floor, and in the basement. All three will be coded to unlock with your retinas at your walk through.”
“Very high tech,” I say.
“This technology has been around for years, Wren,” Hawk says with a long-suffering sigh.
“Did you tell him he can talk yet?” I ask, changing the topic.
Hawk shuffles at his desk like he was not prepared to discuss this. “I had not explained the change, no.”
“Okay, well, Jay, you’re allowed to talk to me now,” I say and flourish my hands as if banishing a muting spell cast on him.
Jay looks at Hawk.
“Once you two move to the new house, you can speak to her… about your life together,” Hawk says awkwardly.
“Ugh,” I groan. “He means when we watch a movie, we can share opinions. When we hear music, we can talk about it or sing along. You don’t have to tell me your real name or your social security number, but we can be friendly to each other. I can’t stand the idea of a mime roommate.”
“Understood,” Jay says in that soft, barely audible voice again. And the quiet of it makes me more irritated.
Hawk drones on about security details I don’t care about. I’m not in any danger and have likely never been. The measures they put in place for my safety are so over the top it’s astounding they believe I still needed a Jay with me. The amount of eyes on me at all times in my own home is unnecessary and upsetting.
While Hawk and Jay mumble and grumble security terms and other bullshit, I become more determined to eliminate Jay completely. I don’t need him. I am perfectly safe in my home and by myself. Even though I just got permission to talk with Jay, I still want him gone.
After Gemma left yesterday, I spent the day researching that club, Cock’s Nest, and their themed nights. Every second Friday is Mask Night, where members are welcome to wear masks. People who like masks know to come for that kink. I can’t tell from my online research what kind of masks would be there. Lacy masquerade ones? Halloween ones? Animal ones? It doesn’t matter to me as long as Jay won’t be kicked out for the wrong mask. I don’t think we will be there long before he finds some arbitrary threat to my safety and makes us leave. Hell, maybe it will be enough for him to quit just before I move on Monday.
Jay stands up and clues me into the end of the meeting. Outside Hawk’s office, I turn to Jay and say, “Wear something sexy tonight. We’re going clubbing.” I spin and walk down the hall, my hair whipping him in the chest.
****
I have a driver drop us off outside Cock’s Nest. Jay’s clueless call to headquarters was a little treat for me. He does not know about this club. I guess I don’t either other than Gemma having modeled for their rebranding a few years ago. She dressed as a type of bondage Barbie doll and had posed out on the sidewalk trying to lure people in. She got paid well for the job despite all the leers she endured on the city streets.
We check in with the bouncer who laughs at the Safe House Security Card Jay gives him. “Nice try, pal, but I need a real ID.”
“It is a real ID. Swipe it,” Jay says to the bouncer. It’s standard procedure that Jays give a security card that says, “Safe House Security Pseudonymous Operative” and when swiped through the card readers, it allows him access to any club I attend. It was rare anyone questioned it. I figured most bouncers really didn’t care much. This one evidently does. Or at least on mask night, they need to be extra careful.
He swipes it with a sarcastic grin that falls when he sees the readout on his scanner. “Oh, go ahead. Sorry,” he says and opens the gate for us to enter.
The bouncer waves us past, and I excitedly enter the club. We are earlier than the bulk of the crowds, but it is still more crowded than I expected. I didn’t know how popular a mask kink is. Apparently, people are freaks. I like it.
A person in a mask like the Scream character walks by and nods at me. I smile back, but it’s an awkward smile. I don’t like that I can’t see his or her eyes. Maybe a mask kink isn’t for me. But I’m not here for myself. I’m here to mortify Jay.
“Wren,” I hear him say warily behind me, but I’m too busy staring at the woman walking up to us. She’s a tall, voluptuous, redhead wearing only high waisted leather panties over fish nets and nipple clamps connected to a black studded collar. My eyes bug out of my head as she walks up to Jay, her hand on his chest as she speaks into his ear.
His blue eyes, bright even in the dim light of the club, bounce from the woman to me and back again. He gently pushes her away and shakes his head, saying something to her. She isn’t upset as she turns back to me with a wink and an “Atta girl” expression. I would laugh, but Jay’s angry eyes turn to me, and I swallow it.
We need to move away from the door before he hauls me back out of it. I squeeze past a couple standing nearby- a man in a mask like a muzzle and a woman holding his leash- to the bar. I order one of their fancy mixed drinks called Ghost Lover. Only because it comes with a little plastic gun as a garnish. It would be fun to give to Angelica for enrichment play.
“Blair Waldorf, I like it,” a woman in a black dress and a little matching masquerade mask over her eyes says as she leans against the bar next to me.
“Hm?” I ask as I sip the lime green drink.
“Blair Waldorf. From Gossip Girl,” the woman says, her husky voice sharp like she’s in a business meeting. “You’re a tourist, right?”
“No,” I say and shake my head.
“The headband and prissy dress, it’s what she wears,” she says matter-of-factly. Like it isn’t insulting. And I guess maybe it isn’t, considering our location. But dressing more provocatively would have raised too many alarms before I even left the penthouse. I look down over my fitted pink cocktail dress. It’s a timeless dress, and it pairs well with my kitten heels. A feeling of self-consciousness fills me.
“No, uh, my boyfriend likes it,” I say and jerk my head back to where Jay is scanning our surroundings. He isn’t listening to my conversation, and likely can’t hear it over the music.
“Oh, cute. Another Ghost,” she says and nods as the bartender returns with her drink. “Want to go dance?”
“Sure,” I say and give a shy smile. There is something to her dry, husky voice and unapologetic manner that has me desperate for her approval. I want her to think I’m cool and not someone who dresses “prissy.” Even though I very much am, apparently.
We carry our drinks to the dance floor, staying well within Jay’s view. I catch his angry expression once as his eyes zero in on me. My sour green apple flavored drink glows in the club lights like a glow stick. I dance with my new friend as we suck down our drinks in the sweaty throng of dancers. She fits her body against mine, belly to belly, and we dance and sway to the music. The bass is deep and thrumming and I finish my drink and tip back my head as we dance. I feel sweat dripping down my back and neck, but I don’t care. The lights dance behind my closed eyes and I wish Gemma was here. She is my dancing buddy… well, my only buddy, if I’m being honest. But she and I love dancing together. This woman is a good substitute. Though, her hands roam a bit more. I don’t care. It feels nice.
At some point, my empty glass is taken from my hand and the crowds close in on us. In the back of my mind I know I’m in trouble with Jay, but that is kind of the whole point of the night, isn’t it? To make him upset?
“WREN!” I hear a deep male voice bellow.
Even over the music, I hear the anger and panic in his voice. I open my eyes to see my new friend grinning at me with understanding and a hooded eyed expression. “I get it!” she laughs.
“Get what?” I ask her and look around for Jay.
“WREN!”
“The role play! You’re his bratty… what, hostage? Little girl? What is it?” she asks over the music.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I shake my head as I lay eyes on Jay, using his size to barrel through the dancers that joined the floor and had blocked his view. The sheer panic in his eyes has me pausing. Is he really that upset? I haven’t gone anywhere. He comes to a halt and lightly moves my new friend over. Her eyes flash with approval as she looks him up and down.
“We’re leaving,” he says, relief and annoyance warring in his eyes.
“No, I’m dancing with my new friend…”
“Lexi,” she supplies and bites her lip as she looks between me and Jay.
“My new friend Lexi,” I finish and cross my arms over my chest.
“No, I’ve had enough,” Jay says as a man runs his hands over Jay’s shoulders as if to massage him. The guy says something to Jay and Jay shrugs him off with a growl.
I tuck my lips into my mouth to hide my amusement.
“Well, I haven’t. I want to see the performance,” I say and gesture to the stage with the flashing lights that count down for a show. The dancing was fun, and it felt good to let loose. I want another of the green drinks and to see a good show. While I’ve never been into kink before, seeing it openly and proudly displayed seems to get the closest to scratching the itch I’ve never been able to scratch with any of my boyfriends. Especially not Maxwell. Maybe I can convince him to see this place and try some stuff out.
“It’s a Masked Bondage performance, I think,” Lexi supplies. “Is that your thing?”
“Yup,” I say just as Jay says, “No.”
Before I can open my mouth to say I would honestly like to see the bondage performance, Jay has his hand around the back of my neck. His hand is hot and tight around the base of my neck as he uses it to steer me away from my new friend and toward the edge of the dance floor. I give a little wave to Lexi, who is grinning in return. There is something about his grip that has me shutting my mouth and following his direction. No Jay has ever put hands on me. In fact, nobody has ever put hands on me in this way. Not even a boyfriend. I likely wouldn’t have tolerated it from anyone else, but there is something about a man trusted with my absolute safety abusing that trust just a little that has me listening. And a little bit heated up. But I chalk that up to our overtly sexed surroundings and not my bodyguard’s large, firm hand surrounding my neck and leading me like a collar.
Outside the club, I’m led to lean against the brick exterior while Jay mumbles, “We’re needing to be picked up outside Cock’s Nest. Destination home.”
Someone must have asked him a follow up question because he presses the communication earpiece again and replies ruefully, “No issues. A misunderstanding about… the type of venue. Understood.”
I say nothing, only shrug to get him to let go of my neck. His hand drops from my skin like I burned him. I stand sullenly with only the smallest pout while we wait for our car and he huffs out a sigh. His irritation is exactly what I was hoping for, but it still grates on me to have to endure it until he quits.
The car was only a minute away from the club and brings us promptly back to the penthouse in tense silence. I have enough time in the car to think about my experience at the club. I liked it. Mask kink may not be something I’m into, seeing as most everyone I saw daily wore masks, but the other parts intrigue me. The collars, the leather, the soft-looking ropes, the whips and paddles. There is an entire world I’ve never explored right inside that club.
Once home, I head straight to Angelica’s room. Jay goes into the security room, and I continue down the hall. But I hear the Crows snorting with laughter and a deep mumbled response from Jay. I hope they are making fun of him and not me.
“Hey Bitch,” Angelica greets with a fluff of her wings.
“Hey Bitch,” I repeat a little half-heartedly.
I feed her some snacks and think about Jay’s hand around my neck. He hadn’t been choking me, but his grip had been firm enough to make me acutely aware of my heartbeat. It had been enough to shut me up and that realization had goosebumps rising and a little chill going through me. I touch my neck gingerly and bite my lip.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” A whispered question from the doorway behind me.
I whip around to see Jay leaning in the doorway. I blink and hand Angelica the little plastic gun that was in my drink earlier. She takes it with a squawked “Pretty!” and flies over to the highest perch to inspect her gift.
Jay waits patiently but tensely for my answer.
“No.”
His shoulders relax a fraction.
I stare at him. “What does your voice sound like?”
His eyes flash with confusion and he tilts his head. “I’ve spoken to you before.”
“In whispers and mumbles. Your real voice.”
He clears his throat but Angelica interrupts. “Shut the hell up, Bird!” She spoke in an imitation of a man’s deep voice and then ruffles her feathers in a manner I’ve long suspected was equivalent to tossing one’s hair over one’s shoulder.
I look back to Jay to see his eyes are smiling back at me. He quirks his eyebrows and jerks his head as if to say, “Well, there ya go,” before he leaves the doorway without a word.