Chapter 10 #3
“Hopefully that’s a good sound,” he chuckles. “I have no idea what I’m doing here. Do I double cleanse? Use conditioner first? I don’t fucking know.”
“I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve been able to really wash my hair. Anything you do is a step above from the last few months. Mmm. That feels amazing.”
Troy continues what he’s doing, and his lips twitch in happiness that I’m enjoying it.
“Don’t women worry about frizz and things like that?” he asks.
“I have never thought about frizz in my entire life,” I shrug.
It’s true. I went from having great hair as a kid without much maintenance to being someone’s sex slave. If someone wanted my hair to look nice, they were in charge of making that happen.
At Slick Dreams, we all helped with hair and makeup because Bret insisted on it. I picked up things along the way, but outside of that? I haven’t had the opportunity to care.
“Why does it seem like you think you’re missing out on something?” he asks.
“Because you pay attention,” I grunt. “I would love mundane things to worry about. They’re just not a priority when you’re me.”
Troy is quiet as he rinses my hair and then shampoos it again. I’m nearly asleep as he works, and I can hear a comb running through my tangles as my eyes close.
“It feels wrong to leave when I just want to be here with you,” he grumbles. I can’t bring myself to say anything as drowsiness digs its claws into me. “Yet, you’re so damn understanding. Who are you, Alisa? Anyone else would be needy and I wouldn’t mind it one bit.”
“I don’t understand neediness,” I mumble. “I’ve only ever focused on survival, but the fallout is heavy when I do.”
“For you or someone else?” he asks.
“Both,” I sigh. The words won’t stop coming out. I can’t stop them, because I’m too comfortable and Troy’s gentle strokes with the comb make me feel taken care of. “Sometimes my choices come at too high a cost.”
“The fact you know this means there’s a chance for you to change once you’re not in a state of fight or flight,” he muses.
“I’m not a good person,” I insist, pushing my head up and forcing my eyes open.
“Again, I think you still deserve the chance to show us either way,” Troy says, his eyes on a stubborn knot. “How did those guys find you?”
“They followed me when I was walking in Savannah, looking for a place to sleep on the street. I was homeless,” I explain.
“How long have you been homeless?”
“Since…June. I don’t even know what month it is,” I realize.
“It’s February,” he replies.
“It was still warm when I was kidnapped, but fall was coming,” I remember. “Places come and go, just like people.”
Troy nods as if that makes any fucking sense, breathing a sigh of triumph as the knot comes apart under his careful work.
“How long has that been going on?” he asks.
I stare at the clean tile floor, unable to tell him. I’m a freak. I only have the social skills I have because of my owners. Smart whores made more money. My math is atrocious, but I can make decent small talk when necessary.
What Troy and I are doing? It feels too much like spilling secrets, and East told me I could keep mine.
“Freedom is something I’m still getting used to myself,” Troy muses. “Pack Mayor is very adamant when they want something, and they want us, Alisa. I’ve known them for a long time, but they never made a move until I got married to someone else.”
“Married?” I ask, grateful for the change of subject.
“Mmhmm. It was a terrible idea. She’s not a good person. She hated when I traveled, was whiny, and only wanted me for the money I made,” he explains. “Spiteful people are something I can spot quickly because of it. I have almost a terror of being around women, and do my best not to do it at all.”
The scent of tea tree oil surrounds us like a bubble as he works the hair mask in with the wide toothed comb.
“Women scare you?”
“Mmhmm. Hockey fans that only want to have sex with players have a certain name attached to them. They can be really handsy and refuse to understand why you don’t want to sleep with them,” he mutters.
“Ew,” I say before I can think about it. “Even if you weren’t married, you shouldn’t have felt pressured to sleep with anyone.”
“Thank you. That’s how I feel. I’ve been divorced from my ex-wife for a couple of years. Lyle is helping me completely cut ties with her because there are some legal issues there. My point? Fuck, let’s see if I can get to it, shall we?”
He reminds me of myself, only he’s not afraid to ramble out loud while he’s working through something. Troy is a big guy, but as he said, it doesn’t keep the world from trying to keep you down.
Sometimes, I wish I was bigger because everyone seems to be able to overpower me. Now it seems that life simply isn’t fair.
Troy continues to comb out my hair and blows out a breath as he stretches his neck from side to side to dispel some of the tension he’s feeling.
“When I’m near a woman, I feel anxious. It’s like there are bees crawling up my body,” he explains.
“I don’t feel that when I’m with you. While you were sleeping, I kept waiting to feel the need to run.
Then while we were talking, I waited some more.
It hasn’t happened at all. All I can think about is giving you some peace, because that’s how I feel when I sit with you. ”
I’m someone’s peace? The temptation of sleep bleeds away and I sit up a little straighter. I’ve never been described as that.
Not ever.