Stay(20)

And then I threw up.

He shoved me forward, causing me to slip in my own vomit. “What the fuck?” he yelled. My body retched again. “What’s wrong with you?” He hurried off the bed and glared at me. “I specifically asked for no sick ones!”

“The rash is gone, so I thought I was better,” I blurted. My heart pounded and my head throbbed, though my stomach felt a tiny bit better.

His face wrinkled in disgust and he picked up his boxers. Hopping on one foot while he yanked them up, Travis snarled at me. “I didn’t pay for this.”

I just shook my head and looked at the vomit-covered doll. I wiped my hands on the bedspread and then wiped my mouth with my hand. Travis stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. I didn’t know what to do. Was he going to come back? I thought about making a run for it. Maybe the front door was unlocked since the house had clients in it. My foggy mind created the image of a perfectly manicured lawn for me to run through.

The springy, green grass would be covered in cool dew, and my bare feet would slip as I sprinted to the road. I’d have to climb over a fence that I was sure was stationed at the end of the driveway, and gravel and bits of broken pavement would jab into my heels as I made a desperate dash down the dark road. I would see headlights, and I’d run into the middle of the street, waving my arms like a crazy person. The car would pull over and I’d get in. We’d go straight to the police station, and everything would be okay.

The door opened. I wasn’t escaping, not today.

“What’s going on?” Zane demanded, his blue eyes narrowed with anger.

I swallowed hard and wished for a glass of water to wash the taste of barf from my mouth. My eyes flicked to the doll, then back to Zane. “I got sick,” I stated flatly.

“Why?” he demanded as if I did it on purpose.

“Rochelle gave me something,” I blurted, my mind still too hazy to make much sense of anything. “It made me sick.”

“What did she give you?”

“A little white pill.”

Zane’s face relaxed. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms. He really was good looking, and the black t-shirt he had on was tight across his chest, showing off his firm muscles. “Come here,” he said, his voice gentle.

A bubble of nerves popped inside me as I slid my feet off the bed and padded across the hardwood floor. I stopped in front of him.

Zane gently tucked a loose curl behind my ear. “Get some sleep,” he whispered, his eyes locking with mine.

I wasn’t sure if it was the drugs, but I thought I saw something almost gentle in his gaze. Zane took my hand in his, softly rubbing my palm with his thumb. It took me by surprise. Then I shook myself. Even drugged, it wasn’t going to work on me. I snatched my hand back.

Zane’s face darkened. His shoulders tensed, and he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. I wobbled but held my ground. With a huff, Zane stormed past me, disappearing down the hall. I exited the room to find Jackson waiting in the hall, his eyes cast to the floor. He looked up at me for a split second before holding out his hand, beckoning me forward. I clung onto the railing as I wobbled down the stairs. Travis was in the living room, still only in his boxers, with a scowl on his face.

“Pathetic,” he said when he saw Jackson escorting me through the room.

I stopped in my tracks. “Me, pathetic?” I raised my eyebrows. “Says the guy who has to pay to get laid.”

Jackson gave me a slight push to get me walking again. He loudly cleared his throat, covering up a snort of laughter. “You shouldn’t talk like that,” he whispered when we walked into the kitchen. “You’ll get yourself hurt.”#p#分页标题#e#

I spun around and stared at him. “I don’t care.” I twisted back around, bare feet squeaking on the cold tile floor. The lie cut into me and my eyes twitched as I fought the tears.

Don’t cry.

I did care. In fact, I cared a hell of a lot, and I hated myself because of it. I cared about my body and myself. I cared about my safety. I cared enough to feel my constantly racing heart and painfully tense muscles.

And I had cared about helping a crying stranger in an alley just a few days ago.





CHAPTER NINE





A PUFF OF steam rose from the curling iron as Rochelle unwound my hair. She took a step back and blasted the tendril with hairspray. Three days had passed since I had been taken upstairs to fill in for Rochelle. I hadn’t left the basement since.

“There.” She set the curling iron down and gently fluffed the curls. “You almost look hot.”