by E. M. Snow
“I didn’t steal your car!” I argue, snatching away from him. “Gideon told me I could use one whenever I needed. I wanted to visit my grandma, and I had to come to work—”
“That wasn’t Gideon’s permission to give.”
“What the hell is your problem?” I shout, then flinch. Casting a wary glance toward the backroom, I draw in a deep breath before I continue in a whisper, “Why are you following me like some crazed stalk—”
“Is everything all right out here?”
Shit.
I glance over my shoulder and meet my boss’s curious stare. He’s standing in the doorway to the back, taking in the scene in front of him with a concerned frown.
“We’re good,” Phoenix says, his green eyes hard. “She’s taking off early tonight.”
I jerk my gaze back to him. “What? No, I’m not.”
He bares his teeth at me. “Yes, you are. You’re coming home with me. Now.”
“Josslyn, who is this boy?” Mr. Parker asks, edging closer to us. His cell phone is in his hand, his thumb hovering over the button to unlock the screen.
My eyes bounce between him and Phoenix as I struggle to come up with an explanation. “This is … this is …”
“Someone who doesn’t need an explanation,” Phoenix answers for me, his tone harsh and shadowy. “Josslyn and I have some personal issues we need to discuss. In private.”
“It doesn’t seem like she wants to talk to you,” Mr. Parker says, a steely edge entering his tone as he jabs a finger toward the front door. “I think you should leave. This establishment is for—”
“Yeah, I got it.” In an instant, Phoenix pulls his designer wallet from his back pocket and slaps a crisp hundred on the counter. “Now that I’m a paying customer, I think you should mind your own fucking business.”
My boss bristles at that, and heat scalds my cheeks. “Get out of my store before I call the police.”
Phoenix snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back a little like he doesn’t have a care in the world. To be honest, I guess he doesn’t. “Go ahead. You actually think they’ll lay a finger on me? You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”
“Then why don’t you enlighten me, you little shit?” I’ve never seen my boss so angry and aggressive before, and I know I have to do something before things get physical.
“It’s okay, Mr. Parker,” I quickly say, holding up my hands as if I’m trying to ward off a wild animal. In truth, I should be more concerned about the wolf at my back, but the last thing I want is for Phoenix to do anything to my boss that would put him or his store at risk. “I-I’m staying with his family. It’s a long story, but there’s nothing for you to be worried about, I swear. They’re good people…”
God, that lie tastes like poison on my tongue.
Arching an eyebrow, he stares me down. Clearly, he doesn’t really believe me, but we both know there’s not much he can do about it.
At length, he sighs. “Joss, are you sure—”
I probably resemble a POP doll, that’s how hard I bob my head. “I am. He’s all talk and no bite, trust me.”
I hear Phoenix release a snort behind me, but I ignore him.
Mr. Parker scratches at his head as he gazes around the store. “Well, things are pretty slow tonight. It should be fine if you take off early.” He glares up over my head at Phoenix, his jawline tense. “This will not be a repeat performance.”
Satan chuckles darkly. “Grab your shit, Luna. I’ve got somewhere to be and you’re wasting my fucking time with your games.”
I whirl on him and level him with a glare of my own, but he just smirks, knowing no matter how furious I am, I’m going to do as he says. What choice do I have? If I continue to resist him right now, I’ve no doubt he’ll do something to Mr. Parker. That’s what Phoenix Townsend does. Uses and threatens a person’s friends and family to get what he wants. He’s like some kind of twisted Mafia don, playing people like chess pieces and eliminating them from the game when they no longer prove useful to him.
A shudder runs down my spine at the thought. What will happen to me when he no longer finds me useful?
Am I insane to pray he simply lets me go? Definitely. He’ll likely want to make some kind of example of me, along with Jasper, so that others think twice about fucking with him and his family.
“Get. Your. Shit,” he bites out, his green eyes flashing with impatience. “I won’t tell you again.”
God, I hate him. I never thought I’d be capable of this level of loathing toward another human being, but there’s a very good chance Phoenix Townsend isn’t even human to begin with. Gritting my teeth and holding back the snappy remark that longs to leap off my tongue, I pivot from him and bend down to snatch my backpack and purse from behind the counter. I quickly pack my homework and make my way out from around the register area to stand next to Phoenix. He grabs my bag from my hands and slings it over his shoulder.
I know better than to think he’s being chivalrous or considerate in any way.
Chances are, he’s holding onto my personal belongings so that I’m not as tempted to run away from his sociopathic ass the moment we hit the sidewalk outside.
Avoiding my boss’s concerned gaze, I give him a half-hearted wave as I follow Phoenix out of the store and let out a sigh of relief that Mr. Parker doesn’t say another word or try to stop us. When we get outside, the night air cools my burning face and temper, but it does nothing for the embarrassment and rage that simmers in my veins.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“You pushed, I pushed back and won. See how that works?”
“You’re a piece of work,” I hiss, turning to go to the car I borrowed. When my eyes fall on the place where I’d parked it, my body stiffens.
The car is … gone.
“Looking for something, Luna?” he drawls.
My mind begins to scramble as I try to think of what to do. I was careful to lock the doors, and this isn’t a terrible neighborhood. That means nothing, though, because now it’s gone.
“I had it towed, you little fool,” he announces from behind me in the most pleasant voice I’ve ever heard him use.
Slowly, I twist around to face him, my jaw dropped in disbelief. “What?”
He slants me with a look that’s one part annoyed, two parts amused. “The car was missing—stolen, as far as I was concerned. I had it towed.”
My entire body vibrates with humiliation. “You son of a bitch, you knew I was the one who took the car. It wasn’t stolen. I was going to bring it back!”
“Next time you’ll think twice before touching what doesn’t belong to you.”
When I shove at his chest, he catches my wrists, tightening his grip as I fight him. “That includes me.” Even though his breath warms my face, I feel goosebumps rising on my arms and legs. He lowers his head until his lips skim my temple. “Though I’m inclined to give you a little taste if you get on your knees and say please.”
He stands upright, one eyebrow curving toward his hairline, as if to say, “Your move, Luna.” I open my mouth to fire back at him, but then pause and press my lips together again. Why give him what he wants? He’s not worth it, and any argument we have will just be fodder for his already oversized ego.
“How am I supposed to get back to your house, then?” I demand, although it doesn’t take a genius to figure out his plan. I just want him to say it out loud.
“You’re riding with me.” Dropping my wrists, he takes off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, and I’m forced to jog to keep up with him. We reach his Aston Martin, and he opens the passenger side door for me. Again, I’m under illusion that any of his actions are out of the kindness of his heart. He’s just making sure I get in.
I skewer him with a glare as I slip into the front passenger seat, and he slams the door shut behind me. He moves around to the driver’s side and gets in, shoving my backpack over into my arms. I hug it tight to my chest and don’t speak
to him. In fact, I don’t even look at him as he starts the car, and we take off down the street.
If I can just make it back to the house without exploding on him, I won’t give him another reason to add to my torment.
“How many times do I have to make it clear?” he demands. “You don’t go anywhere or do anything unless I tell you to.”
I do my best to pretend he doesn’t exist, even though his words make me burn with fury. He falls silent for a bit, and I think perhaps he’s given up, but I should know better by now.
No one gets to disregard Phoenix Townsend, especially not a girl like me.
“That place was a dump, anyway,” he says, his voice a low rumble, a vicious taunt. “Someone should just buy it and have it torn down. The space would be better used as a parking lot than some low-class music store. Can that skinny old stoner even afford to pay you? Or does he pay you in sticks and stems?”
I dig my nails into my arms to keep myself focused. I won’t lash out. I won’t lash out. I won’t lash out because it’s exactly what he’s waiting for. What he craves.
I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“If you’re so desperate for money, all you have to do is ask. I have plenty and you…”
I hate when he trails off like that because it sends my brain into a frenzy. Again, that’s what he wants from me. For me to wonder what he means, what thoughts are flowing through that nightmare of a brain. I grit my teeth. I won’t break. I won’t break. I can’t break…
He’s not done, however. “You will quit that job. Consider it one of the benefits of being my pet. And as far as your grandmother is concerned—”
“I’m not quitting my fucking job!” I snap, unable to take his bullshit anymore. Fine, I lose. Whatever. If I’m going to survive in that house until Jasper makes his grand reappearance, I’m going to have to stand up for myself.
“Careful, Luna.”
“And I’m not going to stop visiting my grandma either,” I continue, not caring about his warning. “She’s all I have now. You wouldn’t understand, of course, seeing as you have no heart, and your parents don’t give enough fucks about you to even come home.”
“Luna,” he says on a deep breath. “Make it easy on yourself and shut the fuck up.”
But I can’t. Because at this point, he’s not making it easy. He never will, so that’s why I can’t stop talking, even though a hundred alarms are sounding off in my head all at once.
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe they keep extending their business trip”—I curl my fingers into air quotes on either side of my head—“because they realize they’ve spawned Damien 2.0 and they’re trying to cut their losses before you become a Netflix serial killer documentary—”
“Fuck it.” Without warning, he jerks the steering wheel, veering the car off the interstate and onto the shoulder. He’s seemingly unconcerned with the tractor trailer that nearly rear ends us, but I care. My breath whooshes from my lungs in several, and I hold onto the armrests as I stare at him in horrified silence. Is this bastard trying to kill us?
Throwing the Aston into park, he twists toward me and unbuckles his seatbelt so he can lean over the console between us and get right in my face. I sit frozen in my seat. I don’t even have the presence of mind to draw away from him, so our faces are mere inches apart, the dark hair falling over his forehead brushing mine.
“What’s wrong, Luna? You had so much to say mere seconds ago, so give me everything,” he spits out. “Speak, bitch, tell me everything. I’m dying to know how you feel about me.”
“I…” But the words don’t find me. All I can think about in this moment is how fucked he must be in the head. How fucked I am for even engaging with him. I’ve spent most of my life afraid to speak up, and when I do, it’s to argue with a person like Phoenix Townsend.
Not a person, my mind yells at me. A monster.
“That’s what I thought,” he snarls when I don’t say anything. “You have no idea what I understand, Luna, so maybe you should think about shutting the fuck up, yeah?”
I shake myself from my stupor and flick my tongue over my lips. He watches me, his green eyes darkening. “Th-then maybe you should tell me.”
“Why? Do you want to make my problems yours, too?”
“If that’s what it takes for you to treat me like a human!”
We stare at each other for several long moments, deadlocked in some power struggle I don’t know all the layers of. I’m just trying to get through this situation and survive him with as much of my regular life intact as I can manage.
We stare at each other for so long, in fact, that I actually begin to wonder if he’s going to give me actual insight.
I really should know better by now, though.
Without a word, he suddenly leans away and puts the car into drive, pulling back out onto the road as if nothing has happened. A minivan just misses the bumper of his car, and Phoenix responds to the driver’s honking by shoving up his middle finger. I study his profile, at a loss for what to do next. He is so mercurial. One second furious and in my face, the next ignoring me completely. I must have pushed a button. Hit a sore spot.
It’s foolish, I know, but I make a mental note of this—the moment I rendered Phoenix Townsend speechless.
Chances are, I’ll have to do it again if I’m going to survive him and this.
The rest of the drive is spent in complete silence. I eventually stop gazing at him and look out my window. There’s no point trying to figure him out, not tonight at least. I just want to get back to the house and hide away in my room.
As we turn up the driveway to the mansion, my jaw drops.
“What the hell?”
When I risk a peek over at Phoenix, his jaw is tight. “Gideon,” is his answer, though it sounds more like a curse he’s muttering to himself.
There are cars lining the whole driveway, and I can already see through the windows that the house is packed with people. Gideon Townsend is hosting another party. And I have a sinking, terrible feeling that I’m about to be put on display like a dead carcass for a flock of vultures.
16
My goal is to just get through the foyer to the stairs before anyone notices me. That way I can go up to my room, lock the door, and avoid this whole venomous circus. As soon as Phoenix parks, I’m out of the car and hurrying to the front door. I don’t want him to try and keep me around, so I’m determined to get inside before he can reach me.
Unfortunately, when I step through the door, there’s a group of girls lingering in the large open doorway that leads into the living room. They catch sight of me before I can slip by and their eyes light up with surprise, and then darken with disdain and disgust.
“I smell desperate whore,” I hear one girl snark. She’s not bothering to keep her voice low, and there’s a disgusted expression on her face. “Seriously, what the fuck is she doing here?”
My ears burn, but I keep moving. I’m so close to the staircase. So close.
“I mean, she is the maid,” another girl with a high-pitched voice says. “Who the hell do you think cleans all this shit up once we’re gone, Kira?” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her staring down my orange Sublime T-shirt like it’s been washed in vomit.
“Good point,” Kira says.
“I bet she’s fucking one of them. I see her with Gideon all the time. Ugh, he’s so hot and—”
“Um, have you ever seen him with anyone? He’s batting for the other team, you ditzy bitch.”
If Gideon is, that’s definitely news to me considering some sophomore girl stayed over just last night. They weren’t exactly quiet either.
I lower my head, determined to ignore the girls as they continue on with their shit talking. It pisses me off that they think I’m here by choice, but it’s not like I can go and correct their bullshit assumptions. I continue on toward the stairs, barely keeping myself from breaking into a run. Just as I reach the bottom step, a voice makes me stop in my tracks.
“Joss? Where are you going?”
Slowly, I turn around, shocked to find Margaret behind me, a drink in her hand. She’s decked out in a skimpy royal blue number that she’s paired with sparkly platform booties, and her auburn hair is loose around her shoulders. Next to her, I’m even more aware that I look like hell in my ratty old jeans, oversized T-shirt, and messy black bun that I might as well take down since it’s starting to fall.
Tilting her head, she studies me intently. I try to discern any sense of warmth or that familiar comradery that we shared before she decided to stop talking to me, but her expression is hard to read. Mostly, she appears curious.
“I-I was looking for Reina,” I lie, knowing damn well that Reina’s not here. Which is another unanswered question. Gideon claims that she stays with friends most nights, but I rarely see her hanging out with anyone at school.
“You’re not going to hang out?” Margaret probes. “It is a party, after all. And—” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve missed you, okay?”
If she’d bothered to ask me what was going on the last few days, she would know this party is the last place I want to be. I stop the bitter thoughts from overwhelming me. It feels like it’s been forever since we were together, and I don’t want to waste time being angry with her. I’ve missed her way too much and with Gia gone now...
“I suppose I could stick around for a little bit,” I say cautiously, knowing damn well it’s the shittiest idea in the history of shitty idea. I gesture toward her cup. “Do you ... do you need a refill?”
She glances down at her drink and then looks back up at me with a shrug. “Sure.”
I abandon my escape plan and tentatively walk with her through the thick of the party toward the kitchen, where one of the large islands is covered with food and alcohol and a remix of Saint Jhn’s “Roses” pulses from the surround sound. People cast us—or rather, me—dirty looks, but I overlook them, focusing all my attention on Margaret. She grabs the bottle of vodka and pours it into a red plastic cup, then mixes in some cranberry juice. Without a word, she hands me the drink and I take it with a hesitant smile.
