Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Uh, sorry, but I think I’m supposed to be here?”
A voice cuts into the moment. I’m so relieved I let out a soft sob as the man releases me. I step back, rubbing my wrist. A fourth person sheepishly approaches, looking around like he’s lost. He’s a few inches taller than me, out of shape, not terrible looking but a pale wisp of a human compared to the monster who nearly broke me.
This newcomer is dressed in a cop’s uniform and he’s carrying a boombox.
“I think your entertainment is here.” The monster gazes at me a second longer before waving once at the men beside him. “Stand down. Enjoy your evening, June.”
I lean against the door, heart hammering, as he walks away, followed by his two men. Neither glances in my direction like I’ve completely disappeared already.
In their wake, I’m left horrified.
What the hell just happened? Who the fuck was that guy?
I feel like I narrowly escaped with my life, but I don’t understand why.
It’s like I met true evil in person.
I touch my wrist, wondering if I’ve been poisoned by that creature.
That beautiful monster.
“Uh, excuse me? You okay? I’m looking for a bachelorette party—“
The door to the hotel room opens and screaming spills into the hallway. Beth pokes her head out. “Hey, everything okay? They’re getting restless. Oh, is that—“
“It’s the dancer,” I say, gathering myself together the best I can. “Let’s take him to see Marnie.”
Beth looks at the guy skeptically. “You sure it’s him?”
“Hey, babe, don’t worry, I put on a great show.” The dancer grins. His teeth are crooked. He does a few hip-thrusts that aren’t too bad. “You got a place I can plug this in? And maybe charge my phone? And some coke if you got it?”
“Jesus Christ…” Beth leads the real dancer into the room by the arm. “No, we don’t have coke, but there’s a plug over here.”
I take a moment in the hall. The monster and his two men are gone, turned the corner, vanished into nothing. Who was that guy? And why do I feel like he’s still standing beside me? His smell infuses the hall, leaving his mark.
I run a hand down my face with a groan.
What would I have done if he had tried to drag me off?
Nothing, I don’t think.
What the hell is wrong with me?
There’s a shriek from the hotel room followed by laughter followed by the low thump of terrible techno music, and I drag myself into the party, putting thoughts of that man behind me.
2
JUNE
Islip out into the hall several hours later with the ice bucket and make my way to the vending machines.
The hotel room is quiet. Except for Marnie puking and Beth holding her hair, everyone’s passed out. I feel a headache coming on.
I want something cold to press on the back of Marnie’s neck while she yaks up all the alcohol she dumped into her stomach.
The stripper was a hit. Party Bill really did come through. The guy wasn’t much to look at, but he was funny, high-energy (especially after taking a snort in the bathroom one of Marnie’s party-girl friends offered him), and willing to degrade himself for dollar bills. His show lasted an hour, then there was the club, and another club, and the lounge, the afterhours bar…
Now we’re back and I’m ready to drop.
In all that mess, I’ve had a total of two drinks. Enough to keep me going, but not enough to get me impaired. Someone had to be sober, and that someone’s usually me.
It’s my job. Or my self-imposed role, anyway. The party mom, the responsible one. Out late and lost your keys? Call June. Got lost and need a ride? Call June.
I’d say I hate it, but I don’t.
It’s who I am. Grandma Hattie taught me young. Or really, forced me to learn.
Someone’s got to take care of everything. And that someone might as well be me.
I reach the machines and scoop ice into the bucket. I feed some cash into the soda machine and push the button for a Diet Coke. It thumps down loudly. I bend over, grab it, and straighten again.
A shadow’s on the far side of the narrow room, blocking the door.
“You never asked my name. Some people might think that was rude.”
I go very, very still.
That voice. That smell. The same cologne. The dull musk, clean and fresh.
I turn and he’s there. Alone this time, lingering close by. The jacket is gone, though he’s still in a dress shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbow, the top two buttons undone. Black tattoos etch every inch of his skin. What kind of businessman has that much ink? His watch glitters in the low light. His gray eyes gleam as he drinks me in.
I shiver and that fear comes back, but not as strong this time.