“The former presidential candidate?”
She made a face. “My kid brother’s dog. The damn thing kept bugging me, so I dug this hole and…”
Megan couldn’t listen to the rest. When Giselle’s mouth stopped moving, she nodded. “So what happened to Bernie brought you here?”
“Hell no. That was when I was ten.” She sprawled on the floor and did leg exercises. “My kitchen blew up a few days ago. Stupid landlord forgot to fix the gas leak.”
More like someone wasn’t careful while playing Breaking Bad for real. “Sorry to hear it.”
“Shit happens. By the way.” She propped herself on her elbows. “Andros is mine.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want that blond hunk and I intend to get him.” She pointed at Megan. “If you even think of interfering, I’ll make you regret it.”
Poor Andros. A thought she never believed she’d have. “I’m here to work.”
Giselle’s hard features grew sharper. “Once I get through with him, he won’t be able to walk for a month.”
Screeeeeeech.
Crap. Megan’s shoulders rose to her ears.
Giselle didn’t even blink.
Dog whistles might work better on her. Megan gestured to the room in general and shouted above the noise, “Don’t you hear that?”
“Sure. Reminds me of juvey and prison. If someone wants me, they can come in here and haul my ass away. I’m not helping them.”
The high-pitched sound reached an earsplitting level and then cut off.
Her ears rang. “Did you grow up in foster care?” Before coming here, she hadn’t believed anyone was born bad. Each person had some redeeming qualities. Maybe she was wrong. “After your parents put you away?”
“Nope. Once therapy ended—which was a total joke—they welcomed me back. Sent me to the best private schools available.”
Megan didn’t understand. “They really busted their butts to give you the finest, huh?”
“Fuck, they could have bought the damn places given their millions. Dear old dad’s in progressive politics. A real FDR type. Totally easy to con. Mommy runs a nonprofit to save the world. Another easy mark.” She sat cross-legged, her cunt displayed.
Megan focused on her face.
“Given what pushovers they are, their outlook and mine didn’t jibe. I ran away when I was fourteen. Been living on the streets since then no matter how many times they tried to haul me back. I’m my own woman, you know?”
She didn’t. Giselle had everything she and Holly had longed for and had thrown it away. “I wish you well down here.”
Not that she needed the good will. This place existed for her type.
Her cold stare said she couldn’t have cared less about Megan’s kind wishes. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again. You into guys, girls, or both?”
“I’m here to work.”
“Bull. What about your downtime?”
The door swung in. A twentysomething woman with short blonde hair cut in a weird style, super plucked eyebrows, and light brown eyes gestured to Megan. “Come with me.”
“To where?”
She smoothed her funny-looking hair. “The club.”
Megan didn’t want to consider what might happen there with the patrons or Giselle, her new colleague. Disheartened at what she faced, she dragged herself toward the other woman.
“Wait.” The lady pointed at the counter. “Don’t forget your handbook. Before your shift, you can put it in a safe place.”
Burning it sounded better.
Once in the hall, with Giselle locked safely inside the room, Megan stayed close to the new woman who seemed relatively normal. No scars, tats, or coarse behavior. “Do you mind if I ask your name?”
“It’s Katie with an ‘ie,’ not a ‘y.’”
“Got it. I’m Megan. What are you in for?”
She stopped and looked uneasy. “Why?”
“Just asking.” To be safe. “I sold my soul to save my sister.”
Her mood softened. Sorrow rose in her doe-shaped eyes. “I did it to get a guy. He liked me afterward, but his affection wasn’t the same as if it had come from his heart, you know?”
She nodded and squeezed Katie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Did you break up with him before you got here?”
“If I could have, I wouldn’t be in this place. He didn’t just love me, he worshipped me, if you know what I mean. I couldn’t get away from him.” She shivered. “His attention was cloying, like being wrapped in a straitjacket with no way out. I figured my only chance to escape was if I—”
“That’s okay.” She hugged her. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. You simply wanted love. Your feelings shouldn’t have brought you down here. It’s wrong.”
She returned Megan’s embrace. “That’s what I told myself way back in 1923.”
She’d been here for freaking ever, her flapper hairstyle obvious now. New hope sparked within Megan. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“I won’t answer if it’s painful.”
“Agreed.” She leaned close to Katie’s ear. “Do you know how to escape this place, or as an alternate measure, how to get an audience with Satan?”
“Sorry. No. I gave up trying a long time ago.”
Damn. “No one will help?”
“Not Racan, Vespar, or Andros. They’re watching us now.”
Each was in the hall, arms crossed and legs spread, affecting their “it’s my way or the highway” stance.
“We’d better go.” Katie hurried in the other direction.
Megan caught up with her. “Have you asked anyone else except them for help?”
“No time. We only get an hour off each day. After I broke a heel, mine’s down to fifty-eight minutes.”
“They docked you for your uniform falling apart?”
“It’s in the handbook.” She inclined her head toward it. “In the back. You better use your time off to study hard.”
Wasn’t happening. The moment Megan had a second to herself, she’d look for a way out.
Katie stopped at gargantuan double doors that trembled from the walloping bass inside. She gripped Megan’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t be saying this, but it’s not easy in there. I’ll help you however I can, but I have my own problems to deal with, okay? Don’t speak unless spoken to, except when you relate orders to Cecil, the bartender. Just so you know, he’s a jerk. Worse than Giselle.”