8. Phoenix
Phoenix
It’s late by the time I leave the trailer and start making my way back to the resort, the fading sun leaving streaks of fire in the sky. I catch glimpses of horizon between the dark hulk of buildings as I stride with purposeful steps down the sidewalk, my old flip phone clutched in my hand.
Inside my bag is the card that Mr. Masterson’s assistant gave me. The thick cardstock is embossed with his name, not hers, and a phone number. I have no doubt that any calls made to this number go straight to his assistant, though, and not him.
He’s too busy to be bothered with details. He made that much plain by his dismissive attitude .
Anyway. This is the number I’m supposed to call, whenever I’m ready to take the deal, or if I have questions.
It’s well past five o’clock, and I’m sure she won’t answer, but I can at least leave a message and then find somewhere to sleep for the night.
To my surprise, she answers on the first ring.
“Mr. Masterson’s office. How may I help you?”
“Oh. Hi…I wasn’t expecting…I mean, this is?—”
“Phoenix Jones. How may I help you?” Her demeanor is cold but professional, and I can appreciate wanting to get to the point. I take a deep breath.
“I’ve decided to take Mr. Masterson up on his offer. When will I be able to come in and sign the contract?”
“He’ll be in his office until seven o’clock tonight. I’ve been directed to let you in at any time.”
“So I can come now?” This was surprisingly easy. Too easy. My gaze flits back and forth, watching the growing shadows that breathe between the buildings. I’m waiting for one to jump out at me. To snatch this opportunity away before I can even begin.
“Shall I tell Mr. Masterson to expect you within the hour?”
“Yes. Thank you?—”
The line goes dead, and my stomach twists. I don’t know if it’s hunger or fear… maybe both?
I don’t want to be the Titan’s babysitter—not for a year, not even for a week—but what are my alternatives? If I can do this…if I can get enough dirt on the Titans and deliver it to the mob, then they’ll have to leave me alone.
I’ll be off the hook for my father’s debt.
Part of me cringes at what the mob might do to the Titans, but I shake my discomfort off.
They’re more than capable of taking care of the mob—paying them off or whatever it is Mr. Masterson does to keep his son out of jail.
It’s not like a bunch of low rent thugs can actually get close to them… right?
And even if they do, the Titans are far more capable of handling themselves than I am .
Once all of that is handled, my only remaining obligation will be to finish serving out my contract. One year, and I’ll get one point two million dollars. I’ll start over. Phoenix Jones will die here in Savannah, and I will be reborn as someone else, somewhere else.
I do know that the longer I wait, the less likely my nerves will be to hold up.
The walk to the casino isn’t too long, only a mile, but at night when I’ve already been roughed up, with my body aching and sharp arrows of pain jolting through my arm, it seems to take forever.
I jump at every sound the city makes around me.
Even a cat startling from a stoop almost has me crawling out of my skin.
Not nearly soon enough, but eventually, the buildings thin into a more open expanse adjacent to the river. The lights of the casino boat shine on the water as it heads out on a brief nighttime voyage, and I take a deep breath in. The resort is just beyond, on the other side of the dock.
The tall tower of the main building rises from the riverbanks, bright, shiny, and luxurious with lights shining in scattered windows. A beacon of modern elegance that somehow fits with Savannah’s slow southern crawl .
It’s also oddly foreboding, the parking lot surrounding the building quiet and devoid of people.
Every fiber of my being tells me to turn around, tells me to run and not to stop running until I’ve hit that Georgia state line.
If only that were an option.
Straightening my spine, I walk forward, trying to draw upon a core strength that I simply don’t have. Fake it til you make it . I force my legs to keep moving closer and closer to what is definitely going to be the most dangerous, impossibly difficult, and painful year of my entire life.
What if it doesn’t work? What if I lose everything—and I still don’t make it out alive?
Peril lurks around every single corner. The mob that demands I pay my father’s debt…if they decide that the information I give isn’t worth my father’s debt, they’ll beat me until I’m broken and then whore me out until I’m dead.
And If the Titans find out that I’m leaking information to someone else, someone meaning to do them harm, they will kill me. Even if Con did love me once. Maybe even because he loved me.
And who knows what they’re planning to do to me for the span of the year?
Every time I blink, I see Conrad Masterson’s dark blue eyes staring down at me, his shapely lips twisted in that cruel smile as he touches me, knowing that he can control my entire body with just a word and the tips of his fingers.
Worse, he had touched me in places that were so intimate he had no doubt regarding my body’s response to his every command.
Unbidden and unwilling, perhaps, but my body responded.
I couldn’t deny that I liked him hovering over me, pushing me against the wall and trailing his fingers over my skin.
Touching me in places no one other than he had ever touched me before.
And I hated that I liked it. Hated that my body betrayed me, heat curling low and wrong in my gut.
What was Con going to do with that information? I didn’t know, but I was fairly certain that he wouldn’t stop, not when he had me at his beck and call .
Then there were the other Titans. What would they do?
I arrive at Masterson’s office on autopilot, surprised to find that only minutes had passed between my phone call and my arrival. The walk here felt hours long. In my fear, I guess I had actually walked faster than my normal pace.
“Miss Jones.” The secretary looks me up and down, her lip curling just a little as she takes in my dirty clothes, my worn duffle, and my overall disheveled appearance. “Mr. Masterson will see you now. You can go right in.”
“Thank you,” I say as I ducked my head and walked past her, into the lion’s den.
“Miss Jones,” Mr. Masterson says, standing and plucking a file folder from his desktop. He lifts his arm to guide me to a table positioned on the other side of his massive office.
I sit in a chair at one side of the table, and he sits opposite me, facing me.
“ I understand you decided to take the job.”
“Yes, sir,” I answer, my voice low and my head down. I don’t want him to see how desperate I am for this, or how equally afraid of it I am.
“Well, the Titans have added a few stipulations.” He takes a few of the papers from the file folder and slides them across the table so I can look at them.
“First, they want complete access to you.” He pauses for a moment, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, and then pushes his large shoulders back and looks at me again.
For a second, I think I see concern flash through his blue eyes, so much like his son’s, but just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. Replaced with cold indifference.
“Complete access.”
He clears his throat. “That is correct.”
I release a shallow breath through my nose and nod once. The gesture satisfies him, and he relaxes a fraction in his seat.
“First, I want to reiterate that you are not to stop the Titans from doing anything. No one is expecting you to intercede in their activities, only to report upon them.”
“Yes, sir, I understand.” I place my hands in my lap, twisting and pulling at my fingers under the table where he can’t see them.
He nods and looks back at his copy of the contract, shaking his head slightly.
“The Titans require that you adhere to the lifestyle in which they live. That means that you will be required to do whatever they ask of you. This includes, but is not limited to, wardrobe, sleep schedule, drinking, games of all varieties, sexual acts to be determined at their discretion, as well as drugs.”
He ticks each item off the list like he is reading a grocery list. I wonder for a moment if he doesn’t actually agree with what his son and his friends want. Maybe he doesn’t approve but has decided it is the path of least resistance.
“I don’t do drugs,” I reply. My hands shake under the table until I tighten them into fists. “But it doesn’t bother me if that’s their thing.”
“Good. The term of the contract is for one year; however, there is the option to renew if required. I hope it is not required.”
“I understand,” I say again .
He nods and hands me a pen that probably costs more than the trailer that I just left.
“I assure you, the contract is legitimate and legally binding. The casino’s lawyers have already looked over it, but please read it, take it all in, and know what is expected of you. Specifically, the itemized list.”
I look down at the paper, skimming through the legalese until I get to the job expectations.
The list of sexual acts is extensive, including things like double penetration, anal sex, BDSM with pre-approved safe words, filming of pornography that shall not be shared outside of the Titans, deep throat training should it be required, and the eager participation in any orgies and gang bangs that included the Titans and other women.
There was also a paragraph that explained that my body was to be limited to use by the Titans and for their pleasure only. I could not date and would not be allowed with any other men or women without their express approval or demand. Then there was a line that had my eyebrows shooting up.
The signee may not pleasure herself without the permission and supervision of a Titan .
I blink. Read it again. They can’t be serious.
“Did you read this?” I ask, raising my gaze to Mr. Masterson’s.
And I thought my dad was bad .