Chapter 5
NOVA
Jayne’s eyes lit up with delight, her hand dropping back down. She nodded for me to continue, her gaze deceptively comforting, maternal.
“Daphne was always getting, um, bound and gagged by the villains,” I said over the sound of blood rushing to my ears.
“And I didn’t know what sex was—I wasn’t exposed to anything sexual until I was much older.
I just liked it, and I didn’t understand why, but I somehow knew to feel guilty about it.
I don’t know how I knew it was shameful, but I did.
I liked when the boys play-chased us on the playground.
I liked it in a way I knew was different from everyone else.
It made me feel alive. The others were trying to escape, but I wanted to be caught. ”
My vision grew tunneled. The walls were closing in. My heart raced, my palms clammy. I felt disgusting and freakish, unworthy of standing inside this space built for worship, this space built for God.
And more than that, I was angry with Jayne, angry with myself for caving to her transparent cult guru tactics. I was angry with Lorelei most of all.
“On the other side of fear is freedom, Nova,” she said. “Authenticity is the only way up.”
I needed to get the fuck out of here. Lorelei could rescue her own damn self.
“Please enjoy complementary reiki healing on your way out. It will help you integrate your newly awakened innermost self with its greater whole. Join us Friday at eight.” Her smile was radiant, not an angelic curl out of place. “Your password is Daphne.”
I bolted through the door next to us without answering. In the adjacent room, ocean sounds and binaural beats played through a speaker, and four massage tables were set up side-by-side, two of which were occupied by…
Pregnant women.
They were face-up, young and smiling, holding hands in the space between their tables, wearing flowy dresses. Over each stood a reiki therapist—and each therapist had her eyes closed. They waved their hands above the women’s bodies, as if praying over them.
One of the reiki ladies paused to open her eyes and glance at me. “You can take any of the available tables, and someone will be with you shortly. Do you have any specific areas of healing you’d like addressed today?”
“Not a fucking chance.” I fled through a nearby door. This time, I didn’t stop until I’d found the staircase back to the entrance hall. The bitchy receptionist didn’t even glance up from her laptop, but I swore I caught her smile out of the corner of my eye.
I whipped out my phone to tell Hudson and Delilah I was heading to the rendezvous point, only to see a text from Hudson first.
Hudson
Basement laundry machine is broken again, and Inara had a scarf-and-barf situation. Text us when you’re done getting your ‘chakras’ aligned and we’ll meet at the diner by McCarren.
I also had received a DM on PicWave from @O.
@O
Friday’s soirée is a tasteful middle ground between an orientation and a party. Dress accordingly. We will keep play PG-13. Participation is optional. Consent is mandatory. Phones will be collected at the door. We hope to see you there.
“It’s a cult!”
The waitress set down two sodas for Hudson and Delilah and a chocolate milkshake for me. “Ready to order?” she asked us, entirely uninterested in my exclamation.
“Please give us a minute, thank you,” Hudson said to her.
She wordlessly left us.
I’d been buzzing with so much adrenaline, I almost didn’t notice Hudson and Delilah’s matching black shirts and plain black baseball caps.
“Are those your disguises?”
“Oh, fuck, wait a minute.” Delilah reached into her bubblegum pink purse and dug out a plastic pouch. She expertly applied her fake brown mustache without so much as glancing in a mirror.
“It’s the Joe from You method,” Hudson said, tipping his hat. “We’re virtually unrecognizable.”
Delilah leaned over the table. “Spill.”
I sipped my milkshake, instantly feeling better. Sugar and chocolate were excellent balms for shame. “It was literally just a meet and greet, but with champagne and caviar and mind games.”
Plus a really hot tattooed man, but I decided that wasn’t relevant enough to voice. There was no way Wes was invited to the soirée with his defiant, antisocial attitude. And that definitely did not disappoint me in any way whatsoever.
“You’re joking,” Delilah drawled. “After all that? How long were you even there? Like an hour?”
If even. “I think they were just making sure the attendees were hot enough to keep the rich clientele happy.”
“Damn,” Hudson said. “Please tell me you have juicier details to back up the cult allegations.”
I took another sip of my milkshake, cleared my throat, and then sat back in the booth, drawing out suspense in a way that made Delilah lean forward and Hudson roll his eyes.
“Okay,” I said. “First of all, they call becoming a member ascending, which I believe you can only do after humiliating yourself and giving them emotional ammunition.” I swallowed, pretending to look at something out the window and refusing to admit I’d caved to that tactic almost immediately.
It had been for the greater good. “They have celebrity members, allegedly. And huge parties no one misses—where I’m hoping to find Lorelei, because none of the underlings seemed to know who she was.
” At least, the two I asked hadn’t heard of her.
“Which means she stays higher up in the organization.”
Hudson snorted. “You did not just call other human beings underlings.”
“My word usage is a reflection of the cult’s ethos, not my own,” I defended. “Also, get this.”
Delilah’s eyes sparkled. The waitress returned.
Hudson regarded her apologetically. “Give us one more minute. Sorry, we just have so much to catch up on, you know how it is.”
“We’ll focus,” I promised her with a determined nod.
The woman’s customer service tone didn’t match her uninterested expression. “Take your time.”
“This girl I was talking to said she met a guy at one of these orientations who now pays for all her bills. Electric, gas, phone, rent…”
“Yes, Nova, we know what bills are,” Hudson said, impatient.
“Damnnn,” Delilah said. “What a queen. Does she have to make fun of his small penis for it?”
Hudson shook his head. “Okay, Nova, some of these elements are definitely sounding culty, however—throw a rock in FiDi, and you’ll hit three sugar daddies.
What you’re describing is pretty standard New York City.
There are hundreds—thousands—of men here who have so much money, they barely know what to do with it. Trust me, I’ve dabbled.”
“That is not normal!” I argued. “Regular people don’t get their entire shit paid for by old bankers.”
Delilah sighed. “Hot people do,” she said with a shrug. “Sorry, I agree with Hudson on this one. Even I’ve taken a dip in the sugar bowl.”
“You’d be propositioned the same if you didn’t ghost everyone before they could offer,” Hudson said.
I didn’t want some lonely finance bro’s money. I wanted my own money.
“You have no idea our plight on those godless apps,” I said, looking to Delilah for support as I defended my dating behavior.
Men should’ve been paying me for merely attempting to talk to them on a dating app when, nine times out of ten, they were either boring or evil or overly horny—and also evil.
Maybe I was old-fashioned, but I wanted love, not some guy named Chadwick telling me in the first message that the innocent-looking ones were always the most secretly naughty. Insert winking emoji.
Nor did I enjoy wasting my Friday evening on a first date with men who failed to ask a single question about me, turning dinner into an agonizingly dull one-way interview.
Last time I tried using one of the alternative dating apps, I received a ping from a man who used the words anal gape in his opener.
His opener! That was his attempt at a glowing first impression he thought would surely win me over.
It was far less disappointing to not try at all.
“And now I’m with Nova again.” Delilah nodded in support, seeing her own endless horrors play out across her mind’s eye. “Okay, what else?”
“I saved the juiciest bit for last,” I said.
“Hottie alert,” Hudson interrupted, looking over my shoulder.
Delilah oohed and ahhed in appreciation.
“Hey!” I snapped my fingers to get their attention back.
They both slowly returned their gazes to me.
“There were pregnant women doing reiki in a back room.”
Hudson appeared slightly more intrigued now. “To play devil’s advocate…”
“As always,” I muttered.
He continued. “People do get pregnant, Nova, especially if they’re having a lot of sex. Or, you know, want babies for some reason.”
“Two of them!” I hissed. “Holding hands like sister wives! They were in their early twenties, Hudson. In the city! Is that even legal?”
“Early twenties in New York is like preteen in Midwest years,” Delilah agreed with an enthusiastic nod and wide, shocked eyes.
Hudson pretended he was weighing this information fairly rather than just being difficult for difficulty’s sake. He tilted his head from side to side as he pursed his lips. “Okay, yeah, you’re right—that’s fucked up,” he finally conceded. “The reiki part especially.”
“Exactly.” I drank more chocolate goodness.
“Well, did you ascend?” Delilah asked animatedly.
“Not yet. But I got an invite to this second glorified meet and greet that is apparently going to be spicier than the first.”
“Well, I would hope so,” Hudson said.
Ignoring him and his perpetually unimpressed attitude, I continued. “The thing is, the girl I met had been at it for six months trying to ascend. I don’t want to do all of that.”