Devil's Girl(27)
I rushed home to get dressed. I was running low on cash, too, so I could use the tips. Wait, did I even collect any cash after the contest? That should have been a big fat wad of cash. I'd have to talk to her about it.
Dressed in tight leather shorts and a flowy white blouse, I hopped into my truck and took off for the clubhouse, nervous and excited and anxious all at once. Gonna grab a drink as soon as I get there.
But I never got there. A little ways down the woodsy road just a couple miles from my destination, two motorcycles roared around my truck to either side. They pulled to a stop in front of me, forcing me to brake in the middle of the street.
The first thing I saw was a pair of unfamiliar beards.
The second thing was the guns. My blood ran cold as they opened my door and led me out onto the asphalt.
"Leave the purse." I dropped in from my shaking hands. It landed with a dusty thud next to my front tire.
They frisked me quickly and found nothing. I did own a gun, but it was in a lockbox under the passenger seat. I hated the thing; I'd never learned to properly use it. It scared me too much. See how well that worked out?
I didn't fight. Didn't scream. I froze like a terrified animal. My hands and feet felt numb as they led me to their bikes. They tied a blindfold around my eyes and snapped a helmet on my head - I guess they need me to live for a while - instructed me to hold on, and took me back the way I came, up the road, away from the clubhouse. They're leaving my car. Is this another warning? Another "fuck you?"
It wasn't important. I needed to pay attention to where we were going. Even if I couldn't see, maybe I could sense it. Sun sets in the west. It was almost down but I could still see a sliver of light through the fabric. I quickly lost track of the twists and turns we took, but then we were picking up speed and heading straight ahead. A highway. Heading west. Hopefully knowing that information would help me. Maybe I could get my hands on a phone.
I clung to that hope as we rode for hours. I clutched the stranger in front of me as the wind and night air numbed my hands. The roar of the bike - a sound that I normally loved - was low and sinister. The vibrations that were usually pleasurable only rattled my nerves. When will this end?
I lost track of time. It must have been a good few hours before we finally stopped. As their bikes quieted down, I strained my ears, praying that someone had given chase. The road was silent.
They helped me from the bike and removed the helmet and blindfold. My legs were weak after the long ride, and I tottered as I got my bearings. We were in the parking lot of what looked like a strip club. Bright red neon lights glowed, “XXX, Eagle’s Starlets.” Not a totally unfamiliar name - it was owned by none other than the Northern Eagles. Who else would it be?
I shivered. "What are you going to do with me?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it." They led me inside.
The place reeked of old sweat and stale cigarettes. I didn't get a good look at the club area, with the bar and the stage. Some sort of show was going on but they led me right down a dark set of stairs and pushed me into a tiny concrete room. A man sat at a card table counting stacks of cash.
He looked me up and down with dark, beady eyes. Dead eyes. Like a shark. I felt his gaze like oil - leaving a residue behind everything they touched. My stomach clenched but I fought to keep my cool.
"Name?"
"Ivy."
"She's with the Devil's," one of the men behind me said. "Right from the inner circle. Clubhouse bitch."
The shark grinned. "Excellent. Your club, missy, has crossed us just a few too many times."
"You all used to get along," I whispered.
"Until they started confiscating our merchandise." He pointed at me and squinted. "You, sugar, are a replacement. Understand? I had a nice girl lined up for this job. Pretty. Better tits."
"What's the job?" I felt so small. My voice was softer than a mouse's squeak.
He just laughed. The mirthless, cruel sound echoed through the tiny room and lodged in my brain, and I knew I'd never be able to erase it.
Too late. Why am I always realizing these things too late? God, I’d been so lucky and I never knew it. I’d been oblivious, naive, careless, and now I was paying for it.
Shivering in the bathroom, I pulled on the skimpy sequined costume. The florescent lights flickered as I checked myself out in the mirror. Pale. Ill. Why are they doing this? Why couldn't they just fuck me?
The drugs would keep me from trying to escape, they said. They barely needed to keep an eye on me anymore.
Four days had passed, or at least, that was my best estimate. I had nightmares every night. Not about shark eyes. Not about the men I serviced. Only about the needle. That very first one.