Authors: Lydia Michaels
“You were a fucking virgin?” The look of complete revulsion on his face when he said the word as if it were a curse crushed her.
She quickly rallied her dignity and got right in his face. “I
was
.”
He released her arms so fast she practically stumbled backward. Through gritted teeth he growled, “How old are you?”
“What?”
“How old are you?”
he roared. “You told me you were twenty-seven. I know that's bullshit. Your paperwork said you were twenty-two. Is that a lie too?”
She stared at him, just stared.
“Answer me!”
She jumped then quietly answered, “I'm twenty-two years old.”
He shut his eyes and gave a humorless laugh. “A twenty-two-year-old virgin?”
“It's true. So what? I'm an adult. You didn't rape me. What's the problem?” She was growing more self-protective by the minute.
“The problem is I don't believe you,” he seethed. He was no longer shouting, but she preferred him yelling at her to the icy calm he spoke to her with now. Those whispered words seemed underscored with the creak of heavy walls slamming up between them. The space flanked by them grew, though neither of them moved.
“Well, that's your problem then, because I'm telling you the truth.”
“When's your birthday?” he snapped. When she didn't answer, he glared at her. “Well?”
“I don't know,” she admitted pathetically. “I was born in the winter twenty-two years ago. I don't know what month.” He suddenly ripped the top blanket off the bed and marched out of the room. “Where are you going?”
“I'm sleeping on the couch. You can have the guest room.”
Scout didn't know how to cope with the unexpected pain accompanying this disappointment. He simply abandoned her there as though she was not worth the trouble. Her lip quivered and she blinked rapidly. She felt ashamed and used, but the worst feeling came from his admitted lack of trust.
This was never going to work. She was leaving tomorrow.
She didn't cry. There was no point. Her hands worked at removing the soiled linens as her mind replayed his words like some sort of loop of torture. She washed the sheets in the tub, never once letting a single tear fall.
Chapter 16
Gone
Scout left her makeup on the counter of the vanity, zipped her bag and crept out of the bedroom. Stopping at Lucian's desk, the first place she had met him, she wished she could leave him a note but figured it was for the best that she couldn't. Approaching the door, she turned and looked back at his sleeping face one last time. His black eyes were watching her.
“Sneaking out?”
Keep it simple. Keep it honest.
“I have to go to work.”
“I'll arrange for lunch to be sent up after your shift,” he said, not bothering to sit up.
Scout nodded. “Thank you, Lucian.” She turned and left.
Work dragged. Her schedule was incredibly light and she suspected Lucian had done something to make it that way. By noon she was dusting the same furniture in the common areas that she dusted that morning. When her shift was over she went to the basement to get her bag and slipped out the back entrance of the hotel.
Paranoia that she was being followed hit her the minute she stepped into the sunlight. Her legs quickly propelled her forward for a few blocks. Blood pumped through her veins, which helped to warm her body, but after she'd traveled about a mile her face was flushed from the cold and her fingers were chilled and starting to chap. She shifted her bag and pulled out her hoodie. After the sweatshirt was over her uniform she continued on her way.
St. Christopher's wouldn't be opening its doors for at least five hours. She had a good idea of a few places Parker might be, but she didn't want to waste any time. She hadn't seen Pearl in days and her worry had become almost too much to bear.
“Hey!”
Her skin stiffened. Scout turned and saw Dugan coming after her. She pivoted and ran.
Her legs pumped hard over the pavement. Ripping around a corner, she ducked into an alley. Her heart raced and she waited, too afraid to peek behind her. Heavy footsteps fell and a flash of black leather ran by. Waiting a few seconds, looking to see Dugan running in the direction she had led him, Scout pulled up her hood and went the other way.
Her cheeks were frozen when she got to the tracks. Slipping under the open garage door, she moved quickly to the hall where she'd find Pearl. The mill smelled of burning leaves, and there were many more residents now that winter had fully arrived. Scout passed a man tying off his arm as his companion pulled the end of a dirty needle over a battered spoon. She cringed and kept walking.
As she turned the corner into Pearl's hall, there was a soft flickering glow seeping from her door, and she was glad her mother had the sense to make herself a fire. She slowed her steps so as not to startle her. She turned the corner and found her hunched over a mirror sifting through a fresh batch of H with a razor.
When she heard her she turned, her weathered, emaciated face vicious. Pearl shot her arm holding the razor out, as if to ward off a thief, and cradled her supply with her other arm. Scout stilled by the door and gave her a moment to recognize her.
“Go way,” she mumbled.
“Momma, it's me, Scout.”
Pearl narrowed her eyes and glared at her. “You're too fat to be Scout. She just a lil' thing.”
“Pearl, it's me.” Scout stepped forward slowly and lowered herself to her knees. “See?” She pulled her drawing of them out of her bag. Pearl stilled and stared at it.
“Where you get tha'?” she slurred. It was obvious she was already high.
“It's us. I got it from the man who drew it. Do you remember?”
Her mother's brittle laugh was slow and then too enthusiastic. “Scout hated that hat.”
She smiled. “Yes, I did.”
Pearl's dirty fingers went back to separating her stash. Her movements were painfully slow and unsteady. Dried blood crusted with the filth already clogging the little canyons of wrinkles on her brown fingers. Scout looked to the corner and saw the soaps she'd brought her a few days ago.
Once her mother had her supply in order and tucked away on her person, she found a bowl in the pushcart. It was dirty, but would have to do. She reached into her bag for a washcloth and poured some rainwater Pearl had collected into the bowl.
She scooted as close as Pearl would let her and drew her attention. “You makin' som'in?”
“I'm going to help you wash your hands.”
“My baby does that when she visits.”
“Does she?” Scout's throat tightened.
She carefully bathed her mother's fingers, hands, and arms. Pearl chatted about a man she met by the water that Scout assumed was a figment of her imagination, and she also told Scout about how she was mad her daughter didn't visit anymore. She assured her mother that her daughter loved her and fought back her emotions. Life was quite unfair at times.
By the time she finished with Pearl's arms she was on her fourth bowl of water, and the little bar of soap was merely a sliver of black. Scout didn't want to use all Pearl's water, so she rinsed the cloth and washed her mother's face. Enough.
When she left, Pearl waved her away as if she were a stranger or a pesky stray dog. She didn't thank Scout and Scout didn't expect her to. Her mother had begun to nod out toward the end of her visit, and she promised herself she'd stay away, for her own good, for at least four days this time.
Looking into her mother's lifeless eyes and seeing not a speck of recognition was agony. She didn't know how many more visits like that she could take.
It was still light out when Scout arrived at St. Christopher's. There were cars in the parking lot of the old school, which was unusual, but not unheard of. The shelter had a board of trustees that kept it operating and dissuaded the township when they tried to close the shelter's doors permanently.
It was an ongoing battle for those who ran St. Christopher's to keep its doors open. Last winter had been a nightmare, never knowing if one day they'd return only to find the doors locked and the fancy billboard of a strip mall coming soon.
Seeing the cars there made her anxious. Winter was here. If they were going to shut the shelter down, they could at least wait until spring. She waited on the abandoned brick flowerbed beside the steps of the school. The cars parked along the dilapidated chain-link fence were all new and shiny. She was certain there was a meeting going on with the board.
Shivers transcended to a full-body seizure by the time the doors finally opened and the meeting let out. Scout cursed herself for not changing into her jeans before leaving the hotel, but her humiliation urged her to escape quickly and she hadn't been thinking. Already, the effects of living in the lap of luxury were affecting her common sense and making her forget the need for practicality. Curled into her sweatshirt, she tried to find a hidden pocket of body warmth. It crossed her mind that Lucian would be aware by now she wasn't coming back.
A few women bustled out of the building, followed by a man in an expensive trench coat with shiny leather shoes. He looked vaguely familiar. As he slowed, he removed his phone from his pocket and stood for a moment to press a few buttons. That's when she recognized those piercing eyes. Slade.
Shit.
She ducked her head so he wouldn't recognize her. Out of her peripheral she saw him walk away.
“Holy shit! Scout! You're back.”
Goddamn it Parker!
Scout looked up and behind a smiling Parker stood Slade, staring at her through narrow blue eyes.
“Hey, Parker,” she mumbled, standing up and walking quickly through the doors of the school.
“Where you going? Aren't we gonna eat? Scout, wait up . . .” He followed her into the shadowed hall of the school. “What's going on . . . ?” His question faded as he followed her gaze. “You know that guy?”
“Not really.”
Slade stared into the shadows after them and then turned and climbed into his car. When he pulled away she breathed a huge sigh of relief. Turning to Parker, she smiled.
“So . . . looks like I'll be staying here again,” she said with false cheer. “Let's eat.”
Chapter 17
Intruder
Scout awoke with a start and her back protested against the hard tile floor. Something was going on. It took a moment for her sight to adjust to the dark shadowy room. Eyes wide, she studied the door of the gymnasium. Bodies lay out like guests of a morgue after a natural disaster, creating an obstacle course around her.
Unseen voices carried over the sound of bodies breathing. She listened. She couldn't make out the words being said, but she sensed the hostility of the situation.
“Shit.”
Scout quickly untied the shoelace around her wrist. Her fingers fumbled over the knot. The voices grew louder, coming closer.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she hissed.
The knot came loose and she turned onto her knees. Rushing with fumbling fingers, she untied the laces attached to her bag's zipper. Footsteps echoed in the hall.
She recognized George's voice. “Sir, you can't go in there. If you don't leave, I'll call the police.”
More voices added to the commotion, but others had begun to rouse. Moving blankets and whispered questions made it impossible to hear one thing clearly over another.
When the knot around her zipper came loose, she hurried to slip on her unlaced shoes. Preparing to sling her bag over her arm and haul ass out of there, grabbing Parker on her way, she turned.
“Evelyn!”
“Sir, you can'tâ”
“Scout!” Parker yelled as Lucian turned and grabbed George by the collar. She worried for George's heart condition, but Lucian released him the moment Parker tore into the gym. “Scout, run!”
What happened next had everybody screaming. Lucian grabbed Parker and Parker turned and punched Lucian right in the nose. Women screamed, men shouted, babies cried and suddenly Dugan and Slade were there as well.
Scout lowered her shoulders and pulled up her hood, trying to remain unseen. Parker was pushed aside roughly and Lucian marched over mats as women from the shelter scurried out of his way. The gym was dark aside from the light spilling from the hall.
Lucian approached a woman with long dark hair. She gasped as he drew her close and he discarded her quickly.
Parker pushed away from Slade and shouted, “Scout, get out of here!”
She made to stand. Lucian towered over the fright-filled room and looked around. “Evelyn, don't move.”
She froze. The sound of heavy dress shoes clicking over the linoleum came close until she found herself, once again, staring into their shiny surface.
“We're leaving.”
Scout looked up at Lucian. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess and tension gave his dark eyes a haggard look. Parker skidded up behind him and jumped between them.
“Get away from her,” Parker growled and Lucian cocked his head.
“Aren't you cute? Move.”
Parker's eyes narrowed into a menacingly evil expression she had never seen before. “Fuck you.”
“Evelyn, you have one minute to get your ass out of this building and into my limo. One second longer and I'll haul you out myself.”
She didn't understand why he'd come looking for her. She gave him an excuse to let her go. He clearly didn't want an inexperienced virgin, or recently devirginized woman, in his bed. And now he knew exactly where she had come from. Her many kept secrets were getting exposed faster than she was comfortable with. Scout didn't like being so transparent.
Rather than cause anymore of a scene, she figured it best to go with him. She'd let him say his piece. This was more about her leaving without permission than the fact she'd gone. He could have the last word and then she'd return to St. Christopher's tomorrow, all back to the way things had always been. But she couldn't afford to piss him off. She didn't need to look for a new job on top of all this.
Scout gently laid her hand on Parker's sleeve.
His pleading green eyes met hers. “Don't go anywhere with this asshole, Scout. You don't have to do a damn thing. He's not taking you anywhere.”
“Parker,” she said softly. “It's okay. He's my boss.”
“That doesn't make him the boss of you.”
“Wanna bet? Thirty seconds,” Lucian said.
“Parker, listen to me.” She forced him to turn and face her. Her friend was tense and ready to spring. “This is Lucian Patras. He owns the hotel. He's . . .” she sighed. “My friend.”
“Ten seconds.”
Parker looked at her with such desperation in his eyes. He whispered, “Don't go with him, Scout.”
What a disaster. “I can't stay here, Park.”
“Time's up, Evelyn.”
She reached for her bag and Parker stayed her hand. Lucian caught his arm and growled, “You don't touch her.”
“Lucian!
Knock it off,” she hissed and brushed his hand off of Parker's arm. “Listen to me, Park. Everything's fine. I'll be fine. I shouldn't have come back here. I need to go. I'll come find you in a few days.” It should take that long to say her good-bye to Lucian Patras. “Do me a favor and if you get a chanceâ”
“I know, check on Pearl. I will.”
He looked back at Lucian then turned to her and whispered, “Be careful, Scout. They aren't like us. Don't let them make you believe they are and get yourself hurt.”
She smiled sadly at her friend. He would never leave this place because he'd been on the other side before and, in his mind, had failed. He'd never escape this world until he started believing he was good enough.
“I'll be all right.”
She walked past him, lugging her bag, and Lucian grabbed for her arm. She yanked herself away from him and stomped out to the limo. Just because she was agreeing to go with him did not mean she was excusing him from embarrassing her in front of everyone at the shelter and getting Parker upset.