6. Elle
6
ELLE
I t wasn’t until the next morning when I woke up to something that smelled very familiar but hadn’t indulged in for many years that I could say I had relief from the headache from the little noggin-knocking I had the previous day.
“I gotta pee,” I groaned as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. The whole process of unlocking me to use the restroom and then locking me back up like I was some sort of animal was getting old.
“Yeah, no problem.” Pulling myself up into a seated position, I waited for him to uncuff me. Once free, I rolled my shoulder and wrist. There was a visible red ring around my wrist from the cuff chafing the skin for the past day. “Are the cuffs really necessary?”
“Very necessary.”
Slipping off the bed, I made my way into the bathroom and did my business. Washing my hands, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like shit. There were dark circles under my eyes and my skin had lost the sun-kissed glow it normally had. I looked gaunt. No wonder my little seduction plan hadn’t worked. I wouldn’t touch me if I were him.
The thought made me feel very insecure.
It felt like the woman I’d been just over six months ago was a dream and I was awaking to the devastating reality.
A knock came at the door. “You fall again?” Dayton called out.
“No. I’m fine.” Splashing a little water on my face, I wiped it on the questionably clean towel and opened the bathroom door. The smell hit me again causing my stomach to grumble. “What’s for breakfast?”
Stepping aside, he waved me past him.
Sitting on the small wooden desk was a bag of McDonald's and two medium glasses of orange juice.
“I don’t?—”
My stomach grumbled a second time, loud enough to break the silence in the room.
As if reading my mind, he stated. “It’s what we have.”
Opening the bag, the smell of greasy goodness assaulted my nostrils. It smelled like heaven. Licking my lips, I snatched one of the breakfast sandwiches from the bag and a hash brown. Grabbing the orange juice in my free hand, I sat cross-legged in the center of the bed. Placing my drink on the nightside table, I began to unwrap the sandwich.
“It’s a bacon and egg McMuffin. Hope that’s okay?”
“It’s been over three years since I’ve had McDonalds.”
He laughed. “You’re fucking with me.” Unwrapping his sandwich he took a big bite.
“Nope.” Removing the top bun, I inspected the processed cheese and bacon before putting the top back on. “Being a model and actress isn’t all glitz and glamor. It requires you to maintain an image. Women are expected to be walking clothes racks with perfect tits and asses. You gain a couple of pounds and you’ve got a half a dozen people riding your ass telling you you’re getting fat. It fucks with you after a while.”
“Sorry, couldn’t do it. I love the grease, sugar, and salt too much.”
I looked him up and down. The black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest and thick biceps. I’d seen last night how defined his abdominal muscles were. Men in Hollywood worked out daily to maintain the form he was currently in. Yet, I didn’t see him as a gym rat type of guy. His physique came from a lifetime of physical training via hard labor. At least that was my guess.
Taking a bite, I hesitated before chewing it. As I began to chew there was a wave of sheer bliss that passed through me as the mixture of fat and salt delighted my senses. But mixed with the orgasmic taste came a wave of shame for indulging in something that could make me undesirable in the public eye.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s delicious. Too delicious.”
There was seriously something wrong with me when I couldn’t even eat fast food once and not feel shame. I shrugged the feeling off. My gaining weight was a problem for another day.
He cocked a brow at me, his dark eyes confused. “So, what’s the problem?”
“I’ve spent years being told I couldn’t touch this. Years of reading about myself in magazines or on social media criticizing everything from the shade of blonde of my hair to the fact my hips are just a little too plump. I’ve been willingly brainwashed into thinking that anything less than perfection is unacceptable.” I caught his gaze and shrugged, shooting him a lopsided smile. “Poor little rich girl problems, right?”
Finishing off the sandwich, his features softened. “People can be cruel to people they’re jealous of.”
I nodded. “That’s for sure.” I took another bite from the sandwich. Damn, it was good.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“What were you talking about last night? About these secret parties and gatherings of the elite?”
Shit…
Pulling my lower lip between my teeth I considered what I could and should tell him. If they thought I kept my mouth shut then perhaps I had a chance. If they felt that I could remain silent then there was a slim chance I could get out of this alive. If I told him what I knew then who knows what would happen. “I think it’s better for the both of us if you forget I even mentioned it.”
The world should know… A voice in the back of my mind nagged. You need to do the right thing...
Lives were at stake.
So many families had been torn apart due to the information I’d just acquired.
The voice was right, but I was scared. So fucking scared. I was currently balancing on a tightrope of keeping quiet and possibly keeping my life or telling what I knew and guaranteeing my own demise.
The selfish, self-preserving part of myself was keeping me from spilling all I knew. At least for now. Until I could find a better way to take it all down.
He started to unwrap another sandwich when he stopped and cocked his head to the side, eyeing me with a scrutiny that was so intense that it sent a shiver through me. “You do know something. And it’s something big, isn’t it? It wasn’t just your mind making you say crazy shit. If there’s something you know that can help get you out of this mess then I suggest you sing like a canary otherwise you’ll be going away for a long time, Elle. I’m sure I don’t really need to tell you this, but you’ll never last in prison—no offense.”
“I don’t know anything. You were right the first time. I was suffering from a knock on the head and was delusional.”
He stared at me a minute longer. “Suit yourself. I suggest you get dressed, we’ve got a long day of driving ahead of us.”
DAYTON
I’d heard rumors of questionable afterparties and illegal activities that many of the elite partook in. There was never proof. And who knew what was true and what was bullshit. Occasionally there would be an outlier that would hint toward wrongdoings. Those outliers seem to OD or disappear completely from the public eye not long after their declarations.
I looked over at Elle in the passenger seat, she was staring out the side window as if deep in thought. Unlike the other day where her mouth didn’t seem to stop moving; today she was more sullen and reserved. Why? Was it because we were getting closer to her destiny or was it something else? Could she have damning information, but was too scared to tell what she knew?
Maybe if I gave her more reassurance.
“You know, before I was a bounty hunter I was a cop.”
She turned her head to look at me with a hint of a smile on her lips. “You didn’t have to tell me. I already called that the other day. How long ago?”
“I joined the police academy straight out of high school. I worked for the LAPD for seven years. I’ve seen a lot of pain and suffering. There’s a lot of bad people and bad things happening in this world. It’s up to us, as a society, to bring those who hurt others to justice.”
“Hmm. Why did you become a bounty hunter?”
“I needed a change. Seven years was enough for me.”
“I can appreciate that.”
“My point is that I’ve lost count of the number of instances where we’ve arrested people, generally low-life wife-beating pieces of shit, who got off scot-free due to their victims' fear.”
“I see.”
“There’s a point where the abuse has to stop. A point where you need to be strong enough to take a stand to make a change. Because if an abuser isn’t stopped then they’ll just keep hurting others.”
She huffed and turned her head to look back out the window. “I’ll keep that in mind.”