Peering up, I look at Cal’s face. His nostrils flare with each breath, and I smile at his vulnerable state. These past couple months have been tainted with bad luck and bad experiences, but Cal is right, eventually, this will all be over and we’ll be able to start our lives together. For the first time in a long time, that glimmer of hope has returned.
Part of putting all the bad behind us includes making sure Cal’s company is running smoothly. He’s been so caught up on protecting me and the search for Byron that I’m worried his employees are suffering—particularly the young females who were brainwashed. Possibly Cherry.
I lift Cal’s arm slowly and rest it on his chest. He squirms a bit but falls back into a deep sleep. In just his tee shirt, I climb out from under the comforter and get out of bed.
One last look at him and I’m grabbing some clothes from my bag on the floor. Cal has told me many times that I should unpack, but unpacking means accepting that we’ll be here awhile, and I refuse to do that.
I tiptoe out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar to keep from waking him when I return. Instead of using the bathroom in our room, I go to the extra bathroom and change out of my clothes.
Fuck. I forgot my bra, and it just so happens that I grabbed a white tee shirt from the pile and Cherry had mentioned it was ladies’ night, complete with a wet tee shirt contest—not that I’ll be participating.
My fingers run through my hair and I wipe my thumb under my eyes to try and force the bags away. It doesn’t work, though. Those bags are a sign that I need to start getting more sleep. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try. Tonight, I have something to take care of.
Quietly, I grab the key card, from the drawer I stuck it in yesterday, and my black zip-up hoodie that’s lying on the barstool, so I can cover up my breasts showing through my top.
I go out the door to the hall, and a few minutes later, I’m flashing the card at the guard. He gives it a double take, looking from me to the card, then holds up a hand. “Wait a damn minute. You’re the girl Mr. Ellis escorted out of here the other night. Are you sure you’re supposed to be here?” His hand rests on a walkie-talkie attached to his jacket, like he’s about to rat me out.
Think fast, Bella. “Mr. Ellis happens to be my fiancé and if you know what's good for you, you might not wanna piss me off.”
My heart is racing so fast, but I think I handled it well.
He sighs heavily, before opening the door and letting me inside.
I smirk, rolling my eyes like a bitch, though I feel really bad for threatening the poor guy.
Ignoring all the action going on around me, I skim the open room for Cherry.
This place is completely packed. Way more than it was the last couple times I was here, and it’s mostly all men. I’m pushing through crowds of people who are standing around talking—likely waiting for the contest to begin.
I walk straight toward the pool room, remembering where it is from the time I was invited in. As I reach for the door, the crowd behind me begins shouting profanities. I turn around, catching the stare of a grouchy man. “Hey, lady. You can wait in line like the rest of us.”
Stretching my neck, I look down the line of men and woman, and it extends all the way to the door I just entered.
I look down at my zipped hoodie, bite my bottom lip, and go for it. In a swift motion, I jerk the zipper down, exposing not only a white tee shirt, but also my puckered nipples that peek through the see-through fabric. “Actually, I’m part of the show tonight.” I smile, hoping they all bought it.
No one says a word, so I open the door and step inside. Standing around the pool are about two dozen girls, all in white shirts. Some tank tops, some swim tops, and some tee shirts like my own. I seem to be the only one wearing jeans and a pair of flip-flops, though. But at least I’ve got half the outfit right.
The oval-shaped underground pool isn’t huge, but I’d say it could hold at least one hundred people, assuming they want to touch body-to-body. The entire wrap-around area is furnished with lounge chairs, some round tables with stools, and even a tiki bar in the far corner.
“Brooke,” Cherry hollers, and I catch her making her way toward me from the other side of the pool. “Or should I say, Bella?” Her arms cross over her chest, pushing her cleavage up through her V-neck bralette.
“Look, Cherry. I’m really sorry about that. It was a nickname, much like yours.”
With a scornful look, she plants a hand on her hip. “It’s not the name I’m upset about. It’s the fact that you’re one of them.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. “One of who?”
She shakes a finger, pointing around the entire space. “Them. The owners. The assholes. The ones who treat us like dirt.”
“No. I’m really not. Cal…err, Mr. Ellis and I are together, but I promise he’s not like Byron and the other guys who run the clubs.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. It’s your word, baby girl. But I don’t trust ya.” She checks me with an eye roll and spins around, strutting back to her girl gang.
I jog after her, grabbing her by the arm. “Cherry, wait.”
Sneering, she snaps back around and pulls her arm away. “Do you have a death wish, Bella?” She emphasizes my name for added effect.
“I know what Byron, or Mr. Davis, or whatever the hell you call him, does to you all and I want to help you.”
“Help me?” She laughs, the sound mocking, but fully loaded with sarcasm. “Help me, what? Make more than minimum wage? Work less than seventy hours a week? Or are you referring to my cracked and bloody feet because I’m forced to wear high heels with no breaks?”
“I…I had no idea it was that bad.”
“Of course you didn’t. Because you’re living up in your ivory tower with the riches, while we’re all down here in rags,” she snaps the waistband of her black miniskirt, “literally.”
I look around at the girls who are all watching us, some looking like they’re ready to attack if I so much as make the wrong move. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
Cherry looks over her shoulder then back at me. “Fine,” she breathes heavily, “but make it quick. In about two minutes, those doors open, and men will be swarming.”
I follow behind Cherry, and she opens up a door to leave the pool room. Inside is a long hallway, with more rooms that section off.
We walk into a large room that’s decked out with vanities covered in makeup, racks upon racks of costumes, and open boxes scattered all over.
I reach down into one and pick up a platinum blonde wig, wanting to try it on for good measure. I’ve always wondered what I’d look like as a blonde.
Cherry clears her throat, grabbing my attention. “You wanted to talk?”
“Yes,” I clutch the wig, running my fingers through the golden locks, “listen, I know this all seems very odd to you and I’m not even sure why I’m about to fill you in on what’s going on, but I like you, Cherry, and I’m also worried about you.”
An annoyed smirk replaces her indignant look. “Worried about me? You hardly know me.”
“I know enough. You were kind to me and made me feel welcome.”
She waves her hand through the air, trying to move this conversation along.