Chapter 19
I spot the club from my window seat and pull the bell cord, alerting the bus driver to stop at the next designated area.
“Thank you,” I say, traipsing down the metal steps. “Have a good evening.”
“You too,” he chirps in a friendly tone.
I wish that were possible, but I’m too on edge. I tossed and turned all night, thoughts lingering on my ex-best friend, fearing he would be lying in wait to ambush me on my way to school.
Thankfully, he wasn’t, but that didn’t ease my mind. I took the long route versus cutting through the woods to play it safe. It doesn’t really matter, though. Sandman can get to me anywhere in Kent at any time. I know that with absolute certainty.
Every lesson went over my head, and my lunch was left untouched, despite skipping dinner yesterday evening and breakfast this morning. I can’t bring myself to eat anything.
Snake posed a whole other problem. He kept a watchful eye on me throughout the day—in the hallway, the cafeteria—and I even saw him standing outside several of my classes. No doubt reporting back to Sandman. His knowing glances and sardonic smirks sent my anxiety into a tailspin.
Meela and Leah knew something was up but didn’t prod for details. My trepidation grew and turned into a full-blown panic attack by the time last period rolled around. I had severe nausea and spent the entire class ensconced in the nurse’s office.
My life flashed before my eyes the instant the last bell rang. I was afraid to leave the building. Fortunately, Sandman hasn’t made an appearance thus far, but he can pounce at any given moment. He made it abundantly clear that my debt must be paid in tears, blood, and pain.
The worst part is not knowing when. Will he corner me today, tomorrow, next week?
Constantly looking over my shoulder is exhausting.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the Bible says.
But what about forgiveness? How much of my blood will it take to satisfy his bloodlust?
I hurt him. I don’t deny that, but does the punishment fit the crime?
The long cut on my torso and the teeth indentions on my clit are testaments to how ruthless he can be. Both war wounds are still tender, but it could’ve been a whole lot worse. He applied just enough pressure to inflict pain but not cause permanent damage or require a trip to the emergency room.
What untold horrors await me?
An icy chill skates through my veins at the thought.
June… I just have to survive him until then. I’ll be gone far away from here right after graduation. I’ll find somewhere to live until I can move into my dorm.
What makes you think he’s going to let you go?
I ignore the subconscious warning and peruse the black, windowless fortress.
Shadows is inscribed across a chrome, parallelogram-shaped backdrop high above the entrance. The pictures online don’t do this architectural beauty justice.
I press the shiny silver button on the intercom.
A woman’s voice crackles through. “Hello, how may I help you?”
“My name is Zilphia Kensley. I have a five o’clock interview with Mr. Hayes.”
After a subtle click, I pull open the heavy metal door and step into an aesthetically pleasing lobby.
Three lantern-style spheres hang from the chrome tile ceiling.
The red light bulbs inside the ornate fixtures cast a scarlet hue throughout the room.
Graphic photos line the black walls—bodies tangled, mouths parted, limbs knotted in pleasure and power.
I come to a dead stop, seeing two men wearing cuts standing guard. My heart kicks into overdrive.
Relax. Maybe the owner just hired them for security.
“Have a seat.” The woman behind the glass partition gestures toward a posh seating area. “Someone will be with you momentarily.”
“Thank you.” I sink into a butter-soft velvet armchair and place my tote bag on the stainless-steel table. I’m not going to let their presence bother me. I need this job.
After school, I changed into interview-appropriate attire—a red blazer, rose-print blouse, black pencil skirt, and ballet flats. I just hope it’s enough to make a good first impression.
Fifteen minutes later, the door next to the teller window swings open, and a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful afro steps through.
“Zilphia?”
“Yes.” I stand, offering a friendly smile.
“Imani Grove, Hawk’s assistant. Follow me, please.”
The receptionist buzzes us through the door.
I match her steps, entering the main section beside her.
An X-shaped stage is the focal point, with a dance pole at the base of each leg and three in the middle.
Barrel chairs are arranged around it for patrons who desire a closer view.
Small circular platforms are interspersed between the tables.
There are two bars: one to the left and another at the back.
Employees scurry to and fro, going about their daily tasks.
No customers yet—the club doesn’t open for another hour.
We ride the elevator to the fourth floor, making small talk until we reach a set of black, ornate doors.
She lightly knocks on the gleaming wood surface, and we enter once we’re given permission. “Zilphia Kensley, here to interview for the housekeeping position.”
God, he’s wearing a cut too. How many of these biker guys work here?
Mr. Hayes nods at his assistant, then approaches me, a broad smile defining his deep dimples. This man is a freaking giant—at least seven feet tall. If that doesn’t draw attention, his beautiful ebony-brown skin will.
“Nice to meet you, Zilphia.”
“Likewise,” I respond, accepting his outstretched hand. “I really appreciate this opportunity, Mr. Hayes.”
“Please, call me Hawk,” he says, motioning for me to sit.
Hawk settles into his chair and opens a drawer, pulling my résumé from a manila folder.
“You were a camp counselor,” he remarks, scrutinizing the tiny black text.
“Yes.” I force the lie past my lips. “For the past two summers.”
The small untruth is necessary to meet my end goal. I’m at a significant disadvantage here, especially considering the high hourly wage being offered and the limited opportunities for career growth in the county.
The interview roster likely boasts applicants who are significantly more qualified for the position than I am. My chances are next to nil without some work history. I’m fortunate to have even made it past the screening stage. I put a random day camp near my old neighborhood on my résumé.
Savannah agreed to be my pretend supervisor. I called her on a whim since she’s the least catty among my former clique. Moreover, she’s a consummate manipulator and could convince a priest to rethink his vows, which makes her perfect for the task.
I could’ve asked Meela to participate in my scheme, but I prefer someone with a Texas area code and Southern twang for optimum effect.
Savannah didn’t agree to help me out of the kindness of her heart.
In addition to her other skill set, she’s an unrepentant gossipmonger and craves recognition.
I’m sure she told everyone we know about the favor she’s doing for me by now and painted herself as a hero.
“Tell me about your time there.”
“Being a camp counselor was a very rewarding experience,” I respond with confidence.
“My responsibilities included activity planning, chaperoning field trips, and ensuring the children’s safety.
This role taught me patience, how to think on my feet, and how to handle conflict.
Also, cleaning the facility, equipment, and grounds throughout the day was an essential part of my duties, as outlined on my résumé. ”
Now to drive it home. “I’m fully confident in my ability to successfully perform the job functions listed for this position.”
Bam! Just how I practiced in the mirror.
Hawk asks a few more standard interview questions and jots down my responses.
“Are you available Tuesday through Friday, six to midnight?”
“Yes,” I answer enthusiastically. “That schedule works perfectly for me.”
“The weekend schedule is full, but I may need you to cover a shift occasionally. Is that something you can do?”
“Absolutely, I have no problem working overtime,” I assure him. “I’ll be here whenever you need me.”
“Good. Did you bring your driver’s license and high school diploma?”
Busted.
I drop my gaze to my clutched hands. “I haven’t graduated yet.”
“Excuse me?” Hawk snaps, his mouth twisting into a frown. “The qualifications for the job were discussed with you during the screening.”
“I just wanted a fair chance at this wonderful opportunity. Please accept my apology for being dishonest. I am eighteen, though.”
“Doesn’t matter, you’re still a high school student.” Hawk anchors his elbows on the desk and steeples his fingers, his dark-brown eyes glittering with anger. “I don’t appreciate having my time wasted.”
“Please give me a chance,” I beg, a desperate edge in my voice. “You won’t regret it, and I promise to be the best employee you’ve ever had.”
He stands. “My hands are tied.”
“Put me to work right now.” I lift my chin. “Let me prove myself to you.”
He stares a moment longer, unreadable. “Impress me tonight,” he says finally, “and maybe I’ll forget you lied.”
My breath catches. “Thank you. You won’t regret this.”
I’ve been on the move nonstop for the last three hours.
My body aches from all the bending, scrubbing, lifting, and hauling.
Shadows is more or less a brothel. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t refilling condom bowls, changing semen-stained sheets, and discarding drug paraphernalia. But here we are.