Chapter 1
One
Talia
Money is the root of all evil. There is no way for most people to know that, though.
It's the type of knowledge that comes with firsthand knowledge of just what it’s like to be poor.
Counting all your quarters and dimes to afford public transit, eating peanut butter straight from the jar because you can’t afford bread this week, choosing between going to the dentist and being able to pay rent kind of poor.
I fidget with my necklace, the only piece of jewelry I have that my mother gave me as a child, and try not to grimace as I stand in the tiny bit of shelter provided by the building I’m huddled in front of.
The street is dark and the night rain-slicked.
I blow on my aching fingers to keep them from freezing as I wait.
Each minute seems to drag by, with me pulling my flip phone out of my pocket regularly to check the time.
No texts.
I pull a battered copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from my pocket and try to get lost in the story, but it’s just too damned cold for me to focus.
Across the street, I watch as a party of drunk people climb the stairs of The Raven’s Head Club, talking loudly and laughing.
These are the exact kinds of people I’m talking about.
The men are in dark overcoats, their expensive watches and designer suits showing as they reach for the door.
The women are huddled under umbrellas. Their expensive red-soled high heels clack against the stone pavers underfoot.
There is no doubt that beneath their wool coats are expensive dresses in showy colors, golds and silvers, and bright pink satin.
I detest these people. And to drive it home for me, as a group they are too involved with themselves to even notice me glaring at them, waiting in the chilly rain for my friend to show up.
Ugh, I am only waiting for five more minutes at the very latest.
Glancing at my watch, I shiver. Olivia is late, as is her wont. It’s basically her only flaw in a lifetime of wonderful friendship, so I let it slide.
But I’m still stuck waiting for her here, having stepped off the bus into the rainy early winter evening. Now I’m waiting for her to appear, as instructed, unsure about why I’m looking at The Raven’s Head Club. I’ve never seen the place before in my life, not that there is much to see.
Just a set of stairs, a large black door, and a little plaque telling the world that the club is by invitation only.
I hear a voice calling out and turn, hopeful that it is Olivia. But no, it's a group of girls whispering and cackling amongst themselves.
"Shhh," one of them says to the rest. "Hurry, we don’t want to be late. Burn was very specific about us being on time."
There is an explosion of giggles.
"Burn is so hot!" one of the women whispers in response. "It’s unbelievable that someone so rich can be such a hunk."
Another round of giggles, coupled with a couple of soft agreements.
"He’s dreamy," another girl says wistfully. "They both are."
"I like Dare. He’s so angry and brooding. It makes me think that he’s an absolute dragon in the bedroom."
Their names mean next to nothing to me, but the whispered comment does make me wonder. Who are the girls talking about? Obviously, the sort of men that inspire this kind of gossip in this group of well-to-do girls are something to be seen.
Then again, judging solely from the vacuous giggles and the long, expensive-to-maintain hairstyles of the group, the guys might just be the usual bland men in skinny black ties, designer black suits, and so much cologne that it makes you want to barf.
Yeah, on second thought, I probably don’t want to meet any guys that this crowd of women talks about. Hard pass.
I turn and scan the street, trying to see who they might be talking about. But it’s impossible to know. There are no men in sight, just brilliantly beautiful and flamboyantly dressed girls. Their faces are all young and excited, all exuberantly beautiful.
The girls don’t even look my way as they hurry across the rain-slicked street. It’s unlikely they even know I am here and I make no move to change the status quo. If they did spot me, what would they see?
Just a pale girl drowning in an oversized, shabby coat. A flash of coppery hair and a pair of bargain-bin ballet flats—the nicest shoes I have. A vintage boho bag, large and functional, with worn leather that is a dull brown.
Olivia spoke in the strictest tone when she called earlier and told me to meet her here... and to dress nicely. I knew from her tone that she meant something other than the bulky brown sweater and knee length black skirt I usually wear.
I am totally out of my depth tonight.
Across the street, I notice that the girls have paused at the entrance to the disreputable-looking gray building that towers over the street corner.
It must have been a very nice church when it was built.
But time and weather have done their work on the building's outside, with water leaving dark streaks down the side of the building and the windows mostly boarded up.
The girls seem to make a decision, falling into a vee formation as they climb the broad stone steps of the gray stone building. The girl at the front tucks her long blonde hair behind her ear and steps forward, all but disappearing in the church’s Gothic-styled hooded cupola.
As I look on, I cannot help but to count the extravagant, showy signs of great wealth that the girls have proudly chosen to wear.
One of the girls is wearing expensive, red-soled high heels.
I see a glint of diamond earrings nestled in the earlobes of another.
One girl clutches a tiny black Prada bag.
I cannot see what they are wearing beneath their black wool coats, but I am sure it is short, tight, and expensive.
For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to be one of those girls. What would my life be like?
I admit to myself that it is not at all like it actually is. These girls don’t have to worry about whether or not their next paycheck will be able to buy them groceries and pay the rent. It must be nice...
"Talia!"
I turn my head to see Olivia hurrying down the dark street. She holds a newspaper over her head to shield her from the rain, but it isn’t working. As she rushes toward me, a halo of droplets shines in her dark hair, and her cheeks are bright pink.
Try as I might, I can’t help but smile at my best friend. She's usually late and a little frazzled.
"Olivia!" I greet her. "How are you?"
She tosses the newspaper onto an overflowing trash bin, making a face and dusting off her dark jacket. Then she grabs me by the arm and pulls me along toward the church's front door.
"Hold on a minute, Talia." She calls out to the girls that have only just begun to disappear through the door. "Stacey? Wait! We’re here!"
The group ripples, stopping before the door in a graceful pack. A girl turns and looks impatiently behind her. I realize it's the girl with the bright red-soled heels.
My pulse speeds up. I clench Olivia’s hand. She’s too busy to do more than give my hand a pat in response.
"Oh." She stares down imperiously as Olivia rushes to pull me up the stairs to join them. "You made it after all. I thought you might bail."
"Sorry for the lateness," Olivia starts.
But Stacey has already dismissed her, ushering the other girls ahead of her into the gaping doorway. To the right of the doorway is the small bronze plaque that reads, The Raven’s Head Club, By Invitation Only.
My stomach does flip-flops. We’re in the seediest part of Harwicke right now, with the docks on one side and the run-down warehouse district on the other. The few blocks surrounding the church seem desolate. And yet, here is a plaque admonishing trespassers.
It’s all quite odd.
My eyes dart over the large, curved doorway, seeing only a black morass within. Aside from the pervasive rap music, there is not even a hint of what is inside.
"Olivia," I say. There is a bad feeling in my gut that demands that I absolutely should not go inside.
She clutches my arm tighter, hissing her reminder. "Talia, you’re the one who got all emotional and told me that you’re worried that something is wrong with you because you still haven’t lost your v-card."
My entire face floods with heat. "Shh! Are you crazy? Don’t announce that to the world."
"I’m not trying to shame you, Talia." She squeezes my arm and tilts her head. "My intentions are just to get you out of the rut you have been in. To meet some new people and let loose just once. I’ve known you for almost twenty years, and yet I can’t remember you ever just having a good time.
" She cocks a brow. “And this place? It’s apparently crazy inside. It might call itself a bar, but I hear that it’s really a sex club. ”
She drops her voice, whispering the last two words. My cheeks flush and I shake my head. “We aren’t the sort of girls that go to a sex club. You’re a frigging PhD student, I’m a retail employee.”
She cups my face, using her thumb and forefinger to squeeze my cheek. “Loosen up. If you want to shed your v-card so bad, there will be plenty of guys inside just lining up to claim it.”
I scrunch up my face, considering her words. She’s right about the fact that I cried on her shoulder about being an uptight virgin just last week. Could this party be a gateway into a more relaxed, happier life for me? I know it’s a sex club, but… I don’t want to die a virgin, do I?
"I know what I said," I acknowledge. “I just hoped that you had forgotten about the whole thing.”
She sighs and pulls me closer. "You promised me that you would come to this party. Give it a chance, at least."
I swallow the retort on the tip of my tongue and try not to make a face. "I know. I’m keeping an open mind."